Wyrms

Another head gave a crazed old man's giggle. "So it's a bargain for him, to give it up and get back the Wise in the bargain."

"You know where the Wise went," said the third, a grim face with no teeth. "Cra

"It's the dilemma of our times," said Oruc to Patience.

"We're long overdue for another gebling invasion.

Twelve times in seven thousand years they have poured out of their vast city Cra

"And then," said Oruc, "instead of an invasion, all the Wise, all the men and women of learning-no, not of mere learning, but of true understanding-all of them, one by one, felt the Cra

"No one," whispered Patience. She was truly afraid now, for he was speaking so frankly of the fall of her family's ancient dynasty that she could not help but assume he intended to kill her after this conversation was over.

"No one. The Cra

"I never knew him," said Patience.

"A beastly fellow. Even discounting the propaganda my father put out, he was unspeakable. He used to preserve the heads of his former lovers and put their canisters around his bed, to watch him make love to his latest creature."

"I should think," said Patience, "that was more of a torture to the current lover than to the former ones."

Oruc laughed. "Yes. Though you're only a child, so you shouldn't know about such things. There are so many things you shouldn't know about. My personal physician-who is not Wise, I suspect-examined you before the earwig man sewed you up. He tells me you could not possibly have done a more perfect job of cutting yourself to draw the most possible blood without causing any permanent or even dangerous damage."

"I was fortunate," said Patience.

"Your father didn't tell me he was training you in the arts of murder."

"He has trained me to be a diplomat. He has often told me of your maxim, that one well-placed assassination can save untold numbers of lives."

Oruc smiled and spoke to the heads. "She flatters me by quoting my own words back to me, and telling me that the great Lord Peace repeats them often."

"Actually," said the dourest head, "I said those words to you first."

"You're dead, Konstans. I don't have to give you credit."

Konstans. Eight hundred years ago there had been a Konstans who restored Korfu to hegemony over the entire length of the Glad River, only ten years after a gebling invasion, and without a drop of blood being shed. If it was the same man, it would explain the decrepit condition of the head. Few heads ever lasted as long as a thousand years-this one was nearing the end of its function.

"I still have my vanity," said Konstans's head.

"I don't like it that he has taught her how to kill. And so deftly that she can create death's illusion on herself."

"She is her father's daughter," said another head.

"That's what I'm afraid of," said Oruc. "How old are you? Thirteen. How can you kill besides the loop?"

"Many ways," said Patience. "Father says I'm not strong enough to pull the bow properly, and casting a javelin isn't much use in our trade. But poisons, darts, daggers-I grew up with them."

"And bombs? Incendiaries?"

"The duty of a diplomat is to kill as quietly and discreetly as possible."

"Your father says."

"Yes."

"Could you kill me now? Here, in this room, could you kill me?"

Patience did not answer.

"I command you to answer me."

She knew too much of protocol to be drawn into the trap. "Sir, please don't toy with me this way. The King commands me to speak about whether I could kill the King. Whether I obey or not, I commit terrible treason."

"I want honest answers. Why do you think I keep these heads around me? They can't lie-that's what the headworms do to them, they make sure that they can never answer dishonestly, or even withhold part of the truth."

"The heads, sir, are already dead. If you wish me to behave as they do, it is within your power."

"I want truth from you, and never mind protocol."

"As long as I am alive, I will never speak treason."

Oruc leaned close to her, his face angry and dangerous.

"I am not interested in your determination to survive at all costs, girl. I want you to speak honestly to me."

Konstans chuckled. "Child, he can't kill you. You're safe to speak to him, for now, at least."

Oruc glared at Konstans, but the head was undeterred.

"You see, he depends on your father, and he believes your father will never serve him faithfully unless you're held hostage here. Alive. So what he's trying to determine now is whether you can also be useful to him, or whether you will remain nothing more than a constant temptation to his enemies."

Konstans's analysis made sense, and Oruc didn't argue with him. It seemed absurd to her, to have the most powerful human being in the world treating her like a potentially dangerous adult. But her respect for Oruc was rising in the process. Many a lesser ruler would have destroyed her and Father, fearing the danger of them more than any possible value they might have.

So she made the decision to trust him. It frightened her, because that was the one thing Father and Angel had never taught her: when to trust. "My Lord Heptarch," said Patience, "if the thought of killing you could live for a moment in my heart, then yes, I could do it."

"Now?" There was an expression of veiled triumph in his eyes. Had he won a victory, then, by convincing her to trust him?

I have begun; I will not retreat. "Even now, even if I told you I was going to do it, I could kill you before you raised a hand to defend yourself. My father knows his trade, and I have studied with the master."

Oruc turned to one of the dwelfs. "Go fetch my guards and tell them to come arrest this girl for treason."

He turned to Patience and calmly said, "Thank you. I needed a legal basis for your execution. These heads will be witnesses that you claimed in my presence to be able to kill me."

It shook her, how calmly he betrayed her. And yet she could not wholly believe the betrayal. No, this was just another test, another move in the game. He really did need Peace-he proved it by the fact that he took no major action without consulting Peace first-and so he really did fear to kill Patience. Nothing had changed that.

And if it was a test, she would win. She nodded gravely. "If I can best serve my Heptarch by dying through legal process, I'll confess to that or any other crime."

Oruc walked to her, touched her hair, stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Beautiful. The Mother of God."

She endured it placidly. He wasn't going to kill her.

That was victory enough for the moment.

"I wonder if someone is breeding humans, as the Tassaliki claim. Not God-I doubt he bothers much with the mating of humans on Imakulata-but someone. Someone with the power to call the Wise." He took her chin, not gently, and tipped her face upward. "If someone wanted to breed magnificence, I could believe you as the result of his work. Not right now, you're still a child.