“What did I do to deserve all this?” asked Toli when they released him at last.

“I would not have believed it if I had not been standing here to see it!” Ronsard shook his head in amazement.

“I am not sure I believe it yet,” added Theido.

Esme threw her arms around Toli’s neck and kissed him. “How do you feel?”

“Feel? I feel…” He paused and glanced around him at the ruin of the temple, and then down at his own blood-soaked clothing, “I feel as if I have missed out on something… Nimrood! Is he-”

“Dead. They are all dead,” said Quentin. “But you have rejoined the living.”

“Did Nimrood do this to me?”

“A mortal wound, sir,” said Theido. “I saw him strike you down. Do you remember it?”

Toli shook his head dazedly. “I remember knocking Gerin free and falling backward. I remember his face above me… then nothing-until I woke up here.”

“The Most High has restored your life to us, Toli,” declared Alinea. “Great is the Most High!” They all joined in praising the god and thanking him for raising up Toli. Their joyous cries rang in the empty yard and echoed among the heaps of fallen stone as they started down the winding trail to the valley below. Above them the smoke and dust still ascended from the ruin, drifting and fading on the wind as the clouds rolled away to reveal a sky of sparkling blue.

By the time they reached the valley and passed before the wondering stares of the people lining the trail, word was already winging throughout Mensandor proclaiming the triumph of the Dragon King and the power of the new god, the Most High, the only true god, who caused altars to crumble, temples to fall, and dead men to rise up and walk.

IN THE massive great hall the Dragon King sat on his high throne. Dressed in his most regal finery, he wore a royal blue cloak with the insignia of the dragon worked in gold; the cloak was secured by a gold dragon broach and chain. On his feet were high boots of soft red leather; and his gold ring-the ring Eskevar had worn-sat high on his finger. Across his lap he held the Shining One in its sheath, his hand resting lightly on its bejeweled hilt. The great carven doors of the hall had been opened wide to allow all who would come to crowd in to witness their King dispensing justice. The people stood in ranks among the gleaming black columns, lined the balustrades of the upper galleries three deep, and pressed forward to the steps of the dais.

When all had gathered in, the trumpeter sounded a call. The noise died to a whisper in the hall and Quentin said, “When I was a boy I stood in the court of King Eskevar and watched him mete out justice and favor with a wise and generous hand. And I vowed that if ever such a task fell to me, I would try to be at least as righteous and good as Eskevar.

“A King does not often have the opportunity of rewarding those who serve him as they deserve. But today I will do my best. First, however, I will punish the offenders.” He nodded to the trumpeter standing on the dais, wearing a tabard emblazoned with the royal device. The youth blew a strong, clear note, which was answered by the sound of marching feet.

Into the great hall came a contingent of knights dressed in their best armor, their breastplates burnished bright and their long scarlet cloaks billowing as they approached. Between them marched Lord Ameronis and his friend Lord Lupollen, both in chains. Both were gray-faced with dismay and kept their eyes lowered, not daring to look at the King.

“Lord Ameronis,” said Quentin when the knights had pushed them forward to the foot of the throne. Look at me, sir. The chagrined lord raised timid eyes. “It is with a distinctly altered attitude that we meet again, eh? You have had time to think on your crimes, and so have I.”

At this Lord Ameronis trembled visibly, expecting the worst.

The King continued. “Your crime is one of ambition, which I can understand and forgive-for I, too, have been ambitious in my own way. You wanted this crown and throne for your own, but that if nothing more than any lord dreams of one time or another, and so I forgive you there.

“You caused me anguish and inflicted hurt upon me while I was suffering under the grief of great loss. You took the sword, Zhaligkeer, which you knew to be mine and which you knew would have saved my son, and yet you withheld it. These are hurts practiced against me, and as one man to another I will forgive them, for you were blinded by your power-lust.

“But your actions caused great hurt and injury to soldiers who had no choice but to defend their King with limb and life. Many brave men fell in battle, some never to rise again; and their blood calls me to do justice.

“I could have you executed” -here Ameronis flinched -“but what would the shedding of your blood accomplish? Very little, I am persuaded, though there are those among us who would take some measure of satisfaction there.

“No, I have decided that you shall live, and that the support of all the aggrieved widows you have left without husbands, and all the children you have left fatherless shall be placed in your hands.”

“Ahh!” cried Ameronis. “I will have to sell half my land; and all my gain for the rest of my life will be forfeit!”

“So be it,” said the King flatly. “At least you will live to set the wrong you have done redressed. The families of the slain will become your families, the maimed will become your brothers. And so you will treat them, for if ever complaint is raised against you hereafter, your life will be ended.

“And you, Lord Lupollen,” continued Quentin, “you chose to throw your substance to the support of your friend Ameronis. As you thought to share in the spoils of his victory, so will you share in the loss of his defeat. For the sentence I have pronounced upon him shall be yours as well. I have no doubt that Ameronis will welcome your aid now and in the years to come.”

Next the remaining lords were brought before the throne. They paid homage respectfully, but remained grave and stolid. “My lords, I am of two minds about you,” said the King. “You had it within your power to turn Ameronis aside before he carried out his scheme, and you did not. Yet, unlike Lupollen, you saw clearly enough who to serve once the issue was forced.

“Therefore, Lords Edfrith, Gorloic, Relkin, and Denellon, I do hereby condemn your disloyalty. But I stand ready to call you friends again if you will swear fealty once more to the throne.”

The lords went down on one knee and swore before all the assembly an oath of loyalty to their monarch. When they had finished, they took their places with the rest.

“As for the others,” continued the King, “Nimrood, the High Priest, and their foul flock-their punishment has been delivered by the Most High, the final judge of all; and let no man say they received more than their due.” The pronouncement brought a murmur from all gathered there.

“Now then,” said Quentin, “bring forth my new friends that I may reward them.” The trumpeter sounded his call again, and the onlookers craned their necks to see a small boy, not much older than Prince Gerin, approach the throne timidly, followed by Pym the tinker and Tip, his dog. Quentin beckoned to the youngster’s parents who hung back meekly in the ranks. “Come closer, good people.” The farmer and his wife crept forward shyly and came to kneel beside their son and the tinker.

“Rise, my friends,” said the King. “For you are my friends-as true as any who have ever served the Dragon King’s throne.

“Renny, your young heart yearns for knighthood, but you have already shown yourself as brave as any knight in the realm, though you possess neither horse nor armor. Is it still your wish to be a knight?”

“Yes, Sire,” came the small voice in reply. “More than anything.”