He experienced a weird, fleeting moment of pity for the seven warriors who had had to battle this man, bringing merely swords or spears, and armor and two good legs to meet him in a night grove.

Those arms like tree-trunks and the message in those eyes told Devin all he needed to know about which way the balance would have tilted in those battles despite the ritual maiming, the severed ankle tendons, of the consort who was supposed to die in the grove, to the greater glory of the Mother Goddess and her High Priestess.

Marius had not died. For anyone's greater glory. Seven times he had not died. And now, since that seventh time, there was a true King in Quileia again and the last High Priestess was dead. It had been Rovigo, Devin remembered suddenly, who had first given him that news. In a rancid tavern called The Bird, either half a year or half a lifetime ago.

"You must have been slipping or lazy or already fat last summer in the Grove," Alessan was saying. He gestured toward the scar on Marius's forehead. "Tonalius should never have been able to get that close to you with a blade."

The smile on the face of the King of Quileia was not, in truth, a pleasant thing to see. "He didn't," Marius said grimly. "I used our kick-drop from the twenty-seven tree and he was dead before we both hit the ground. The scar is a farewell token from my late wife in our last encounter. May the sacred Mother of us all guard her ever-blessed spirit. Will you take wine and a midday meal?"

Alessan's grey eyes blinked. "We would be pleased to," he said.

"Good," said Marius. He gestured to his guards. "In that case, while my men attend to laying things out for us you can tell me, Pigeon, and I hope you will tell me, why you hesitated just now before accepting that invitation."

It was Devin's turn to blink; he hadn't even registered the pause.

Alessan was smiling though. "I wish," he said, with a wry twist of his mouth, "that you would miss something once in a while." Marius smiled thinly, but did not speak. "I have a long ride ahead of me. At least three days, flat out. Someone I must get to, as soon as I can."

"More important than me, Pigeon? I am desolated."

Alessan shook his head. "Not more important, or I wouldn't be here now. More compelling perhaps. There was a message from Danoleon waiting for me at Borso last night. My mother is dying."

Marius's expression changed swiftly. "I am deeply sorry," he said. "Alessan, truly I am." He paused. "It could not have been easy for you to come here first, knowing that."

Alessan gave his small characteristic shrug. His eyes moved away from Marius, gazing past him up the pass toward the high peaks beyond. The soldiers had finished spreading a quite extravagant golden cloth over the level ground in front of the chair. Now they began laying out multi-colored cushions upon it and putting down baskets and dishes of food.

"We will break bread together," Marius said crisply, "and discuss what we are here to discuss, then you must go. You trust this message? Is there danger for you in returning?"

Devin hadn't even thought about that.

"I suppose there is," Alessan said indifferently. "But yes, I trust Danoleon. Of course I do. He took me to you in the first place."

"I am aware of that," Marius said mildly. "I remember him. I also know that unless things have greatly changed he is not the only priest in that Sanctuary of Eanna, and your clergy in the Palm have not been noted for their reliability."

Alessan gave his shrug again. "What can I do? My mother is dying. I've not seen her in almost two decades, Bear." His mouth crooked. "I don't think I am likely to be recognized by many people, even without Baerd's disguises. Would you not say I have changed somewhat since I was fourteen?" There was a slight challenge in the words.

"Somewhat," Marius said quietly. "Not so much as one might think. You were a grown man even then, in many ways. So was Baerd when he came to join you."

Again Alessan's eyes seemed to drift away up the line of the pass, as if chasing a memory or a far-off image to the south. Devin had an acute sense that there was much more being said here than he was hearing.

"Come," Marius said, levering his hands on the chair arms. "Will you join me on our carpet in the meadow?"

"Stay in the chair!" Alessan rapped sharply. His expression remained incongruously benign and untroubled. "How many men came here with you, Bear?"

Marius had not moved. "A company to the foothills. These six through the pass. Why?"

Moving easily, smiling carelessly, Alessan sat down on the cloth at the King's feet. "Hardly wise, to bring so few up here."

"There is little enough danger. My enemies are too superstitious to venture into the mountains. You know that, Pigeon. The passes were named as taboo long ago when they shut down trade with the Palm."

"In that case," Alessan said, still smiling, "I am at a loss to explain the bowman I just saw behind a rock up the trail."

"You are certain?" Marius's voice was as casual as Alessan's, but there was suddenly ice in his eyes.

"Twice now."

"I am deeply distressed," said the King of Quileia. "Such a person is unlikely to be here for any reason other than to kill me. And if they are breaking the mountain taboo I am going to be forced to rethink a number of assumptions. Will you take some wine?" He gestured, and one of the men in burgundy poured with a hand that trembled slightly.

"Thank you," Alessan murmured. "Erlein, can you do anything here without it being known?"

The wizard's face went pale, but he too kept his voice level. "Not any sort of attack. It would take too much power, and there is nothing here to screen it from any Tracker in the highlands."

"A shield for the King?"

Erlein hesitated.

"My friend," Alessan said gravely, "I need you and I am going to continue to need you. I know there is danger in using your magic, for all of us. I must have honest answers though, to make intelligent decisions. Pour him some wine," he said to the Quileian soldier.

Erlein accepted a glass and drank. "I can do a low-level screen behind him against arrows." He stopped. "Do you want it? There is some risk."

"I think I do," Alessan said. "Put up the shield as unobtrusively as you can."

Erlein's mouth tightened but he said nothing. His left hand moved very slightly from side to side. Devin could see the two missing fingers now, but nothing else happened, so far as he could tell.

"It is done," Erlein said grimly. "The risk will increase the longer I hold it up." He drank again from his wine.

Alessan nodded, accepting a wedge of bread and a plateful of meat and cheese from one of the Quileians. "Devin?"

Devin had been waiting. "I see the rock," he said quietly. "Up the path. On the right side. Arrow range. Send me home."

"Take my horse. There's a bow in the saddle."

Devin shook his head. "He may notice, and I'm not good enough with the bow anyhow. I'll do what I can. Can you arrange to be noisy in about twenty minutes?"

"We can be very noisy," said Marius of Quileia. "The climb back up and around will be easier to your left as you go down, just past the point where this path bends. I'd very much like this person alive, by the way."

Devin smiled. Marius suddenly roared with laughter and Alessan followed suit. Erlein was silent as Alessan swept an imperious hand out toward Devin.

"If you forgot it then you can fetch it, thimble-brain! We'll be here, enjoying our meal. We may leave something for you."

"It wasn't my fault!" Devin protested loudly, letting his smile fade to petulance. He turned back to where the horses were tethered. Shaking his head, visibly disconsolate, he mounted his grey and rode down the path along which they had come.

As far as the bend in the trail.