Then three men stepped from the forest. Not even a year previous I’d stopped in the same spot.

Back before all this had begun.

Back before I knew who I was.

The largest stepped to the fore. “There’s a toll on this road, friend.”

“Blood or gold?”

“I’m sure you’d rather be paying gold instead of blood.”

I shrugged and shifted in the saddle. “I’ve killed your like on this road-in this spot-since before the Time of Black Ice.”

Two of them laughed, but the third slowly clasped his hands at the small of his back.

I glanced back over my left shoulder. “In half a week an army will be coming up this road, to lay waste to Moriande. Now you can go to Moriande and be useful, or you can die here.”

The leader laughed again and looked at his two comrades. One laughed with him, but the other kept his hands behind his back. The leader frowned at his companion. “What’s with you?”

“My mother lives in Moriande.” The goldfish crest on his robe shimmered as he shifted from foot to foot. “If what he says is true…”

“He’s lying to save his skin.”

“But we saw the army head south.”

“That was Pyrust, and good riddance to him. Let him rule in Kelewan. He’s never coming back this way.”

I straightened up and looked at Goldfish. “Come to Moriande. Find me through Serrian Jatan. I’ll give you honest work.”

The other underling, who wore a crest of a seated dog-probably stolen from a Helosundian deserter-looked up. “Me, too?”

“Hurry.” I smiled at the leader. “Coming to Moriande, or do we make the road a little less thirsty?”

His companions stepped away, isolating him. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“The quiver in your voice suggests otherwise.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid for my mother.” He brought his head up. “S-she lives in Moriande, too. I think.”

“Good. Wait here for my army. Ask for Ranai Ameryne. She will bring you into Moriande. Dunos will take you to Serrian Jatan. I’ll find you there.”

The three of them straightened into a line and bowed. I returned the bow and rode on. I would see two of them again. This gladdened me, but only for as long as it took them to disappear into the woods. A month from now, none of them would be alive.

I doubted, a month from now, that Moriande would be alive.

Prince Cyron greeted me in Wentokikun’s throne room. He looked different than when last I’d seen him, and it was not just the half-empty sleeve. He’d lost weight and had that haggard look of a man with too little sleep. Yet his blue eyes still possessed an inquisitive quickness that marked the sharpness of his mind.

He waved me forward and came halfway down the red carpet to welcome me. “I know it’s not me you wanted to see, but I needed to see you. Are you prepared to direct the city’s defenses?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What?”

“I have no skill at defending against a siege, Highness. I will be on the walls fighting the kwajiin, but if I had any skill at resisting sieges-or any inclination toward that art-I’d have died in Kelewan.”

Cyron stared at me. “But you were the leader of the Emperor’s Bodyguard.”

“You’ve forgotten. He died. Not much of a recommendation.” I smiled. “I sent you the best man for the job. Count Jarys Derael.”

“Yes, but he’s…”

“Crippled?” I frowned. “His body’s hurt, but not his mind. You must have an appreciation for that situation.”

Cyron’s face flushed crimson. “Point well made. I have been sending him information. Humoring him, really, since you sent him. I thought…but, never mind. I will consult with him.”

“And act on his plans?”

The Prince laughed. “Yes. No need to twist the only arm I have.”

“He’ll know how to defeat them.”

“What of Pyrust?”

“Dead, probably. I don’t know. I sent a messenger offering to ransom him.”

“And Vroan?”

“He survived. I did not like him, so did not extend the same courtesy.”

“Pity. We could have spared a bucket of warm horse piss.” Cyron sighed. “I had planned to monopolize you to go over facts and figures, but I shall leave that for Count Derael.”

“I am interested, but…”

The Prince nodded. “She waits for you in my sanctuary. She hopes you won’t be angry with her.”

“Why would I…?”

“There are some things, Master Soshir, that only the Empress knows.” Cyron smiled. “Best not to keep her waiting.”

The palace’s sanctuary made it easy to forget the horrors to the south. Lush plant life filled several acres, drawn from throughout the Nine. Flowers clung to trees, and sweet fruits I’d not seen in eons hung from branches. The thick vegetation deadened sound from beyond the walls. The yowls of exotic animals echoed through the jungle, and if not for the white stone pathways, I might have thought myself in the depths of Ummummorar.

The scent of one flower, paryssa, conjured memories that carried me further away. I smiled and drifted deeper into the sanctuary. Lost in memories, I saw little of it. Wrapped in enchantment, I really didn’t care.

I first saw Cyrsa in Kelewan, at an elegant brothel called the House of the Jade Maiden. The big, rectangular building possessed an interior courtyard garden very like the Prince’s sanctuary. I’d spent the night with a woman Nelesquin had recommended-his taste in women had always been exquisite. I had awakened and stepped into the garden very early, before the sun had evaporated the dew. From deeper within I heard girlish giggles and the clacking of sticks.

The garden path opened onto a crushed marble circle. Two young women played at sword-fighting. Paryssa had red hair back then, and her silver eyes flashed brightly. She circled the other girl, stalking her, then struck quickly.

Her foe shrieked, then ran past me, sucking on her fingers. I could only smile, amazed, as Paryssa saw me, bowed, then struck a pose meant to be fourth Tiger. How odd it seemed, her being trained for pleasure when she could fight skillfully.

I had been taken with her immediately. In free moments I would school Paryssa in the way of the sword, indulging her, praising her. She incorporated what I taught into a dance, which delighted warriors. They, like me, came to enjoy her company in all ways.

And then, at Nelesquin’s urging, I bought her and gave her to our father, the Emperor, as a gift.

I entered a marble-strewn clearing and my guts tightened. She stood still, her back to me, bearing a willow switch. I allowed the stones to crunch beneath my feet, but she did not turn. Her head sank just a little, then she looked back shyly-again the young girl even though we had known each other for eons.

“Do you think, Master Soshir, you can come to love me again?”

I bowed to her deeply, as befitted the Empress, and remained low as befitted the one who had long since captured my heart. I slowly straightened.

“Your question presumes I stopped loving you.”

She turned to face me. She wore a white robe trimmed in green. Black thread had been used to embroider crowns on the breast, back, and sleeves. The same thread tiger-striped the hem, and worked hunting tigers onto the ends of her sash. Her open gaze searched my face. The slight narrowing of her eyes betrayed concern.

I waited, not reacting, leaving myself open to examination. I had no idea what she was looking for, but she seemed not to find it. She smiled and idly twirled the switch in her hand, then turned away from me and began to walk deeper into the sanctuary.

A twitch of the willow branch invited me to follow.

“How shall I address you, Highness? Do you answer to the name my father gave you, or…”

“Or have I taken to changing my name as you warriors often do?” She spun and lashed me playfully with the switch. “Here you may address me as you wish, but formality shall be observed at court. And how shall I call you?”