PROLOGUE (28 page)

The moment Beor saw Alain, he spat on the floor. It took Mother Orla herself, raising her walking stick, to restrain him from charging through the crowd and attacking. The hounds, waiting outside, barked threateningly.

Although Beor was almost beside himself with a warrior's hot

anger, he contented himself with a hard glance at Alain before launching into an involved and desperate tale. Certainly something far more serious than a man's jealousy had afflicted the village this day. As Beor spoke. Mother Orla's stern features showed not one sign of weakness even as those around her and the ones who crowded outside set up a moan in response to his words.

Thunder cracked and rolled, bringing a moment's silence in its wake. It began to rain.

"Where be Adica?" Alain demanded, swinging down the bundle containing her holy garments so that they all could see that he had recovered it for her.

Beor roared like a wounded bear, overcome by fury. The others wailed and cried out. Although they had few words in common, it didn't take Alain long to understand.

Adica was gone, stolen by the raiders.

ON the roads traveling north from the Alfar Mountains, following the trail of the prince, Zacharias found it easy enough to ask innocuous questions when opportunity arose and to make himself inconspicuous when necessary. After an unfortunate detour to escape a pack of hungry wolves, in the course of which he lost one of his two goats and picked up a nagging infection in his left eye, he found himself among a trickle of petitioners and pilgrims walking north to see the king. Some of these humble souls had heard tell of a noble fighter who had single-handedly vanquished a pack of bloodthirsty bandits.

"Truly, he must have been a prince among men," he said more than once to the folk he met, trying to keep the sarcasm from his voice. At last one fellow agreed that he had heard from a steward riding south that indeed Prince Sanglant had returned to the king's progress.

When he came to the palace complex at Angenheim and found the court in the throes of making ready to leave, he hoped to press forward among the many plaintiffs come to beg alms or healing or justice from the king. He didn't look that different from the filthy

beggars and poor farmers camped out in the fields and woodland outside of the palace fortifications. Most people liked to gossip. Surely no one would take any special notice of a few innocent questions put to the guards.

But after seven years as a slave among the Quman nomads and a year traveling as an outcast through the lands of his own people, Zacharias had forgotten that his ragged clothing, disreputable appearance, and easterner's accent might cause people to distrust rather than simply dismiss him.

In this way, he found himself hauled up past the impressive fortifications and into the palace grounds themselves. Once they had taken away his goat and searched his battered leather pack for weapons, guards marched him through the handsomely carved doors of one of the noble residences. By prodding him with the butts of their spears, they tried to make him kneel before an elderly lord seated on a bench with a cup of wine in one hand and a robust and handsome young woman next to him.

The old lord handed the cup to her and looked Zacharias over with a frown as he tapped his fingers on a knee.” He refuses to kneel." He had a touch of the east about his voice, blurred by the hard stops and starts characteristic of the central duchies.

"I mean no offense, my lord," said Zacharias quickly.” I am a frater and sworn to kneel before none but God."

"Are you, then?" As the lord sat back, a slender, middle-aged servant circled around to whisper in his ear. When the guardsman had finished, the lord shifted forward.” Do you know who I am?"

"Nay, I do not, my lord, but I can hear by your speech that you've spent time in the east."

The lord laughed, although not as loudly as his young companion, who gestured toward the embroidered banner hung on the wall behind a table laden with gold and silver platters and bowls. The profusion of food made Zacharias' mouth water—apples, pears, bread, cheese, leeks, and parsley—but the sigil on the banner made his blood run cold and his mouth go dry with fear. It was only then that he noticed that the lord had only one arm; one sleeve had been pinned back so that it wouldn't get in his way.

"The silver tree is the sign of the house of Villain, my lord," he said, cursing himself silently. That had been his mistake among the Pechanek tribe: he had let those in power notice him, because in those days he had still believed in the God of the Unities and thought it his duty to bring their worship to the benighted, those who dwelt in the darkness of ignorance.” Can it be that you are Margrave Villam? I crave your pardon, my lord, for truly he was an old man in my youth, so it was said, and I thought the old margrave must be dead by now and the margraviate gone to his heirs."

"I pray to God you are not dead yet," said the woman boldly.” I trust you have enough youth in you to play your part on our wed-. ding night."

Villam had an honest smile.” They say a horse may die if ridden too hard."

She was, thank God, not a giggler, but she laughed in a way that made Zacharias uncomfortable because it reminded him of what Bulkezu had cut from him.” I hope I have not chosen a mount that will founder easily."

"Nay, fear not on my account, for I'm not in my dotage yet." He took the cup of wine from her and gestured to a servant to refill it.” I pray you, beloved, let me speak to this man alone."

"Is this intrigue? Do you fear I will carry tales to Theophanu?"

If her youthful teasing irritated him, he did not show it.” I do not wish the king disturbed on any account, since he means to leave in the morning. If I am the only man to hear this tale, then I can assure myself that it will go no farther than me."

She did not retreat easily from the field.” This frater—as he calls himself—may carry tales farther than I ever would, Helmut. He has a tongue."

The horrible fear that they, who had the power, would take from him the one thing he prized above all else caught Zacharias like a vise. His legs gave out and he sank to his knees. It was hard not to start begging for mercy.

"So have we all a tongue, Leoba," replied Villam patiently.” But I will have solitude in which to interview him."

Although clearly a woman of noble station, Leoba was young enough to be Villam's granddaughter and therefore, whatever equality in their stations in life, had to bow to the authority that age granted him. She rose graciously enough, kissed him modestly on the cheek, and left. The old man watched her go. Zacharias recognized the gleam in his eyes. The sin of concupiscence, a weakness for the pleasures of the flesh, afflicted high-and lowborn alike:
I

Once she was gone, the old margrave returned immediately to the matter at hand.” I do not wish to know your name, but it has been brought to my attention that you have been asking questions of the guards regarding the whereabouts of Prince Sanglant."

"You seem to me a reasonable man, my lord. Now that I am thrown into the lion's den, I may as well make no secret of my quest. I seek Prince Sanglant. Is he here?"

"Nay, he is not. He has as good as declared open revolt against King Henry's authority. I feel sure that a man of your learning understands what a serious offense that is."

"Ah," said Zacharias, for a moment at a loss for words. But he had always had a glib tongue, and he knew how to phrase a question to protect himself while, perhaps, gaining information.” Yet a man, even a prince, cannot revolt alone."

"Truly, he cannot." Villam knew this ploy as well.” Do you mean to join his retinue, such as it is?"

"Nay, my lord. I have not followed him with any such intention, nor have I at any time known of any plan to revolt. My interests lie not in earthly struggles but with the composition of the heavens and the glory of creation. In truth, my lord, I have never spoken with the prince."

"Then why did you come to Angenheim asking about his whereabouts?"

"I merely come to ask a boon of him."

Villam laughed delightedly.” I am smothered in words. Yet you trouble me, frater, with your talk of the heavens. Do you know what manner of man Prince Sanglant is?"

"What do you mean, my lord?"

"I pray you, do not play the innocent with me. You look rather less artless and more disreputable, and you speak with a cunning tongue. Prince Sanglant is no man at all but a half blood, born of a human father and an Aoi mother. What manner of aid might you wish to ask from such a creature?"

This struck Zacharias as dangerous ground. Nor had Villam betrayed any knowledge of Kansi-a-lari's whereabouts, even though Zacharias knew she had walked north with her son.

"Very well," he said after a long silence.” I shall tell you the truth. I walked east to bring the word of God to the Quman tribes, but instead they made me a slave. I dwelt among them for seven years and at long last escaped. This is the tale I bring to you: the Quman are massing an army under the leadership of the Pechanek begh, Bulkezu, and they mean to strike deep into Wendish territory. Already raiding parties burn villages and murder and mutilate our countryfolk. You know how the Quman treat their victims. I have seen many a corpse without a head. Your own lands in the east are at risk, my lord."

"Princess Sapientia was sent east with an army together with that of her new husband, Prince Bayan of Ungria."

"That I had not heard, my lord."

"Yet we've had no news from them, so perhaps it goes ill with their campaign, although I pray that is not the case. This chieftain, Bulkezu, has plagued Wendish lands before. Yet why seek Prince Sanglant? Here is the king and his court. Surely your plea is best voiced before the king."

"Truly, it is," said Zacharias, thinking fast.” But I have heard much talk during my travels about the king's ambitions in Aosta. The king cannot march both south and east. At the same time, I have heard many stories about Prince Sanglant's prowess in battle. Is the regnant's bastard firstborn not raised to be captain of the King's Dragons? If the king himself cannot take the field against the Quman, then it would take such an army, commanded by a man second only to the king in courage and reputation, to defeat them."

"A fine tale. It is true that you speak with the accent of the eastern border, and certainly you look as if you've walked a long way with nothing more than the clothes on your back and, so I hear, a goat. But a fine tale may be nothing more than a brightly woven tapestry thrown up on the wall to conceal an ugly scar which lies hidden behind it. The Quman brand their slaves with a mark."

Shaking, Zacharias stood. He turned, pulling the torn shoulder of the robe down to reveal his right shoulder blade and the brand, healed badly enough that skin still puckered around it, marking him as slave of the Pechanek begh. Releasing the cloth, he turned back to confront the margrave.” So stands the mark of the snow leopard's claw, my lord."

"A desperate man can have himself cut to lend credence to his story," remarked Villam pleasantly.

"Would a man cut himself in this manner, merely to lend credence to his tale?" Zacharias demanded, boldly lifting his robe.

At the sight of Zacharias' mutilated genitals, Villain actually gasped out loud, lost color, and groped for his wine cup. He gulped it down, and then signaled to his steward, the slender man who had stationed himself at the door.” Bring wine for this man, if you please. He must be desperately thirsty."

Zacharias drank deeply. The wine was very good, and he saw no reason to waste it. Perhaps the shock of his mutilation would throw Villam off the scent.

But the margrave was top old and too crafty, he had played the game for too long, to be thrown off his attack even by such a vicious strike. Once he had taken a second cup of wine, he gestured to his servant.” Humbert, bring me the man's pack."

Resigned, Zacharias watched as Villam emptied the pouch and, of course, picked up the one thing that would condemn any man. He displayed, for Zacharias' edification, the parchment scrap covered with Liath's writing, the scribblings of a mathematici.

Zacharias drained the last of his wine, wondering what he would get to drink when he languished in the skopos' prison damned as a heretic.” You're holding it upside down, my lord," he observed after Villam said nothing.

Villam turned the scrap over and studied it again.” It means even less to me this way." He looked up with the sharp gaze of a man who has seen a great deal of grief and laughter and trouble in his time. He was getting impatient.” Are you a sorcerer?"

No such interrogation could end happily, but Zacharias refused to collapse in fear as long as his tongue seemed safe.” Nay, my lord, I am not."