"Wise," Idrys said in his low, travel-worn voice, "and a wonder to the people of Henas'amef to be so trusted by His Majesty, to be sure."

That ironic observation might be the underlying truth, but the people waved in unfeigned jubilation, and with the bells ringing and the echoing commotion outside, Tristen brought his small party inside the gates.

"The Lord Commander and his men are riding back immediately," he said to Uwen, and to Lusin, sliding down from the sorrel's bare back. A boy ran up to reclaim the horse, and now Tristen saw Tassand had hurried out into the nippish air and down onto the west door steps, ill dressed for the chill wind: "Her Grace is our guest, Tassand."

Those three he needed tell, and everything else happened—boys running for ponies to ride down after remounts, master Haman shouting, and Tassand hurrying up the steps as fast as his agile legs would carry him. Lusin, too, dispatched messengers with the necessary instructions for others of the staff, all of this in motion before they had reached the steps. Tristen promised supplies, clean clothes, hot baths if the men would wait that long.

"We have no time," was Idrys' protest, but Tristen swept Ninévrisë and the Lord Commander at once up the steps and inside. Down the hall only a short distance he brought them into the old great hall, far more intimate than the newer one the other side of the stairs, and nearer the kitchens. Servants whisked chairs into position, moved a small table, and had a pitcher of wine and a steaming teapot and service ready almost before they could settle in the chairs—and immediately after that a cold meat pie, cold bread, cheese, and sausage. The servants were hard-breathing, his guests a little dazed by the instant flood of amenities, but Cook had learned since Cevulirn had gone to the river that Tristen's messengers and his friends arrived ravenous and left with bags and wallets stuffed with food, and every such arrival met this hospitality unasked and unadvised.

Hot herbal tea and honey met instantaneous approval.

"Her Grace is carrying the heir to the kingdom," Idrys said, first of all, to Tristen's dismay. "And has risked a great deal in coming this far."

"I'm very well," Ninévrisë said shortly, cherishing a warm cup in hands pale-edged beneath the spatters of mud.

Another prince, leapt immediately into Tristen's essential understanding, though why he should think sonscarcely skimmed his wits. He had not heard the child as he heard Tarien's, but he had no disposition to doubt it.

"This message," she said. "This message of yours, and Cefwyn's…"

"Cenas carried it," Idrys said, "with the king's writ and seal. And had ample time to be here."

"He's not come," Tristen reiterated.

Uwen had joined them cautiously: he was bidden listen to all councils. "Gedd," Uwen said now in a quiet voice, and drew a darting glance from Ninévrisë and Idrys.

"Sergeant Gedd carried Cefwyn's last message," Tristen said, well understanding, "and was days late. He had to let go his horses and hide and move by night: he was followed out of Guelemara."

"Two of my men never came back from that ride," Idrys said. "Now Cenas. And he left without fuss."

"Gedd weren't clear of the town before they were on 'im," Uwen said. "I think ye should hear Gedd, sir."

"There's no time," Idrys said, "not an hour.—Send him with me, I'll hear him and send him back again as we ride."

"With no difficulty," Tristen said quietly.

"What's this about Ryssand?" Idrys asked him. "What do you know?"

He began to reply, and only then realized the Lord Commander might believe in his walking through walls, but would not understand it. "There's a doorway of sorts, where the old mews were. And it goes to places. Ynefel is one. But the lord of Meiden overheard a hall in Ilefínian, where wizards and Tasmôrden and his men were holding council."

"The lord of Meiden."

"Crissand," Tristen said. "They know about Lady Tarien's baby; that's one thing. And Hasufin isn't dispelled."

"The wizard." Idrys knew precisely what wizard, what trouble, and that it presaged nothing good. Ninévrisë knew, and it was two troubled looks he had. "Lewenbrook didn't suffice, then."

"It sufficed," Tristen said, "to drive him back, but he tried again, and I think he's with Tasmôrden."

"Grim news," Idrys said.

"But he didn't break through, here," Tristen said, offering the best news he had on that matter. "He tried to take Tarien's baby, the way he did the prince at Althalen…"

"Oh, dear gods," Ninévrisë said, and her hand flew to her heart.

"But he didn't," Tristen said quickly, seeing what distress it brought her. "It didn't happen. Orien's dead. She tried to help him, and she tried to get free, but she couldn't, and she died. Hasufin's still in question, but he isn't here. The baby is safe."

"Dear gods," Ninévrisë said again.

"Came here," Idrys said darkly. "How? Like what happened on the field?"

Tristen shook his head. "More quietly. The wards wouldn't let him in. There's the gap in the wards where the old mews were; there's another at Ilefínian…"

"And he came from there?"

"Not fromthere," Tristen said, "but he was there, at least . . · he had influence there."

Idrys' face, unwashed, spattered with mud and filmed with dust, seemed carved of stone, the lively flick of a dark eye the only expression.

"He seems to have influencemany places, Amefel."

"He does."

"And the earl of Meiden overheard this plot."

"He and I," Tristen said. "Tasmôrden knew about Tarien's baby, and sent Lord Cuthan to Ryssand, to make trouble."

"That he did," Idrys said.

"But more than that," Tristen said, "Ryssand's agreed to kill Cefwyn. That's what I sent with Anwyll. Cefwyn mustn't let Ryssand's men near him."

"That the letter told me," Ninévrisë said in anguish. "And Cefwyn knows it… but late. I don't know how I know, but I did learn it late, didn't I? I felt it, the farther I rode… part of it was late! And if he'd known—if he'd known when Ryssand was in court—"

"Wizardry," Tristen said. "The weather—everything's gone back and forth, from what I wish, what Tasmôrden's wizardry wishes, wherever it comes from."

"Wizardry indeed," Idrys said darkly, "and I belong with my king."

"I don't wish to keep you," Tristen said, "but let Uwen come with Gedd, too, since Uwen's heard all we've done here. They'll ride with you as far as you need. Cevulirn is already at the river, with Sovrag and Umanon. Pelumer's rangers are wherever they need be, not mentioning Aeself's band, Elwynim, who watch up and down the river. All our supplies are in place: we can be across the river in one night and reach Ilefínian in three."

"Do you say so?" Ninévrisë said, as if all the weight of days on the road had lifted. Rarely, too, did Idrys' grim countenance ever show his heart, but his relief in hearing that was visible in every line of him.

"Well done." Then, more sharply, as if a thought had come to him. " Sovrag'sthere, you say. With boats."

"One boat, always, if not others."

"Can he set me ashore at the Murandys bridge? Can he possibly ferry the horses?"