Dragonfly

of someone he called 'the Blue Crescent witch.' I think he meant the Fourth Crown Princess."

Lagan sat back. "Testing? What does that mean?"

"According to my man, she was denounced as a heretic, stripped of the symbols of her rank, and

is now a penitent in the houses of the priesthood of Holin the Warmonger."

Lagan closed his eyes briefly, remembering the i

terrace. He regretted now that he had suspected her.

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She too was caught in Fergox's trap. But how had she got there and what part had his son

played?

"And my son was present at this ceremony?"

"Apparently so, Sire."

"Willingly?"

"I do not know."

The councillors sat in silence while the news sank in. They all knew that Ramil had despised his

intended bride, but to take her to Fergox for such treatment would be unforgivable. And how

did that balance with the story that Ramil himself had been dragged to the Spearthrower's

court?

"Your Majesty." Lord Usk was on his feet. "I beg leave to go in search of Prince Ramil."

"And I," added Hortlan and Yendral.

Lagan sighed. He knew how they felt. If he did not have to attend to the affairs of the nation, he

would jump on a horse and go and find his boy himself.

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"I understand your concern, my lords. God knows, I feel it too, but I need all my young warriors

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with me at this time. An army stands between us and Rami! if the reports are correct. You would

be riding to your deaths. Your duty now lies with the men of your houses and lands. We will

soon have a fight on our hands; every one of you has a part to play in defending Gerfal."

"But, Sire!" protested Usk.

Lagan raised his hand. "I appreciate your zeal for my son but there is nothing you can do. I will not believe he stays of his own free choice: he is a prisoner of war. I fear we will hear all too

soon Fergox's conditions for his release."

"What of the Blue Crescent delegation, Your Majesty?" asked Lord Taris.

"Should we tell them this news?"

King Lagan tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne. He was facing war with the most

powerful naval empire in the world all because of a

misunderstanding. He needed some brilliant stroke to avoid it, but what?

Some gesture of good faith, a pledge of his son's honor. (Ramil had to be i

be!)

"I have little doubt that the Blue Crescent will have their own informants in Spearthrower's

court. They will hear this news eventually. Far better if we show our friendly intentions by

revealing it now. Summon the delegates and--" Lagan ran his hand across his brow, weary and

grief-stricken. It was hard to think like a king when he was full of the worries of a father "--wake the Princess Briony. I will require her to be present at our meeting with the delegates."

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An hour later, the Etiquette Mistress and Chief Priest were sitting opposite the King. A tousle-

haired princess perched on his knee, half asleep, a robe over her nightgown and her favorite doll

on her lap. Lagan hugged her fiercely.

"You'll have to trust me, Briony," he said in a low voice. "You'll come to no harm."

Briony, who hadn't been worried before, now felt alarmed. She stared anxiously at the strangers

opposite, wondering what was going on.

At a sign from the King, Lord Taris presented the delegation with a copy of the written report by

the Gerfalian spies. Lagan gave them a chance to read it, then spoke.

"You will see that our information is far from complete."

"Your information," snapped the Etiquette Mistress, incandescent with rage,

"says that your son witnessed this sacrilege but did nothing to prevent it!"

"What could he do, a prisoner himself?" Lagan asked, keeping his tone even.

"We do not know that he is a captive!" said the priest angrily. "Your spies"

reports are at odds. Prince Ramil made no secret that he disliked this union.

How do you know that he did not plan this?"

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"I trust my son." As Lagan pronounced his conviction, he recalled Ramil's words said in anger only a few weeks ago. Like a cloud shifting from the face of the sun, he felt his private doubts

dispel. Ramil could be foolish and downright a

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as to plot against the Princess and the wishes of his own father. "And as a proof of this trust, I offer you my only remaining child, the Princess Briony, to be a pledge of her brother's honor."

"Father!" exclaimed Briony, squeezing his arm in shock.

Lagan held her small hand reassuringly. "I entrust her to you in the knowledge that you will treat her as one of your own until such time as the Princess Taoshira is restored to you or the full truth

of these terrible events is revealed."

The Blue Crescent delegation were visibly taken aback by the magnitude of the gesture on the

part of the Gerfalians. After a brief whispered exchange, the Etiquette Mistress rose and bowed.

"We accept that the father has had no part in the affront to our nation, but it remains to be seen whether the son lives up to his sire's greatness," she said. "We will treat the Princess Briony with all the honor that should now be shown to the Princess Taoshira but is denied her; your

daughter will receive comfort and freedom while our beloved Crown Princess receives taunts

and a prison cell. Come, Your Highness." She held out a hand to the little girl; Lagan pushed

Briony gently off his knee. "In view of the change in our circumstances, we will no longer

trespass on the hospitality of your court but accommodate ourselves aboard our own vessels."

The Blue Crescent delegation swept out, carrying a scared little princess with them. Lagan sat

stony faced

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as his councillors whispered among themselves. He had spent both his children now in the

service of his country and had nothing left. If this did not stop the war with the Westerners, then

he could only fight with small hope of survival.

Tashi woke the morning after Ramil's visit feeling stronger. Tucking the paper models in the

wide pockets of her black robe, she performed her rituals, then paced the cell to keep the cold at

bay. After her public trial, she hoped that the priests would leave her alone to private

contemplation. She could bear the incarceration, cold and comfortless though it was, as long as

she did not have to go through further humiliation in front of other people.

Her hopes were dashed when a young priest came to fetch her.

"You are expected to attend morning worship in the temple," he a

averted as if he thought she would bewitch him with a look.

"But I do not worship your god," Tashi replied, her back to him as she leant her forehead against the wall for comfort, finding the stone more sympathetic than his hostile looks.

"You will come." He nodded to the temple guards who stepped into the cell.

They surrounded her, swords pointing to her throat.

Brimming with impotent fury, Tashi walked into the corridor. The priest led her out of the crypt

and into

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the temple itself. She'd had no chance to look at it properly when she had been brought this way

the day before; now she saw that a once plain and simple building had been redecorated in