connection to the Gods. The Gods tell you what’s supposed to be
done, and you pass the instructions on to us. You live forever, and
YOU can do magic things and see the future and all that because
you were chosen to live in that special world between the Gods and
the rest of us so that you can guide us in the right direction. Does
that make any sense, Aunt Pol?’
‘A great deal of sense, Geran.’
‘There’s more.’
‘I rather thought there might be.’
‘Torak’s out there in the world of the Gods, too, and he’s got
people living in the in-between world the same as you and the
others do.’
‘Yes. We’re called disciples. Torak’s disciples are Urvon, Ctuchik,
and Zedar.’
Yes. I read about them. Anyway, Torak has the idea that one
thing’s going to happen, and our Gods believe that it’s going to be
something else.’
‘That sums it up fairly well, yes.’
‘Then the war of the Gods never really ended, did it?’
‘No. It’s still going on.’
‘Who’s going to win?’
‘We don’t know.’
‘Aunt Pol!’ He said it with a note of anguished protest in his voice.
‘Your whole library’s filled with all these prophecies and you still
don’t know who’s going to win? Some book here has to come right
out and tell us.’
I waved at the shelves. ‘If there is, it’s in there somewhere. Feel
free to browse your way through. Let me know if you find it.’
‘That’s not fair!’
I laughed and gathered him in my arms impulsively. He was such
a dear, serious boy!
‘Well, it’s not, is it?’ he grumbled.
I laughed even more.
As Geran approached his sixteenth birthday, I realized that if the
line of the Rivan King were to be continued, it was time for me to
take him out into the world so that he could find himself a wife. I
gave some thought to where we might want to live, and Sulturn,
seemed like a good place to me. Mother, however, had different
ideas about that. ‘No, Pol,’ her voice came to me one night, ‘not
Sulturn, Muros.’
‘Why Muros?’
‘Because that’s where the young lady he’s going to marry lives.
‘Who is she?’
‘Her name’s Eldara.’
‘That’s an Algar name.’
,That stands to reason, Pol, since her father’s an Algar. His name’s
Hattan, and he’s the second son of a clan chief. He married a Sendarian
woman when his clan drove a herd of cattle to Muros. He settled down
there and went into business as a cattle buyer. He has connections with
all the Algar clans, so he’s very prosperous. Take Geran to Muros, Pol.
Let’s get him married off.’
‘Whatever you say, mother.’
I thought it over and decided that Geran and I would need a
certain status. A prosperous merchant probably wouldn’t be too
excited about marrying his daughter off to some country bumpkin.
Clearly, Geran and I would have to go to the city of Sendar. I was
going to need some money.
Squire was an elderly horse by now, but he was still sound, even
though he did puff a bit when he went uphill. I had Geran dust off
and- polish one of the small carriages in the barn while I packed
some respectable clothes for us in a stout trunk, and in the late
spring of the year 4012, my young charge and I set out across
Sendaria to the capital city of Sendar. It was a nice time of year for
a trip, and there was nothing pressing about our journey, so I let
Squire set his own pace. We went southwesterly, and after a few
days we reached the crossroads where the country lane we were
following intersected with the imperial highway.
‘Which way here, Aunt Pol?’ Geran, who was driving our little
carriage, asked me.
‘South, Geran, toward Medalia. Then we’ll take the high road to
Sendar.’
‘All right. Move along, Squire.’
Our ancient horse sighed and plodded on.
Medalia had changed a great deal during the centuries since I’d
last been there. Sendaria was a peaceable kingdom now, so the
defensive wall that’d surrounded Medalia when it’d been a part of
My duchy had fallen into disrepair. I disapproved of that, but I
decided not to make an issue of it.
It was a week or so later when we reached Sendar, and we took
rooms in a substantial inn. After dinner, I went through our trunk
and laid out assorted finery for us. ‘Do we really have to dress
up like that, aunt Pol?’ Geran asked with a certain distaste. it
was definitely time to get him out of the country and back to
civilization.
‘Yes,’ I told him quite firmly. ‘We’re going to the palace tomorrow
morning, and I’d rather not have to go in through one of the
servants’ entrances.’
‘Are we going there to see the king?’
‘No, not really. Our business is with the Royal Treasurer. We
might have to talk with the king to get our business taken care of,
though, depending on how thick-headed the Treasurer is.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘We need money, and I have plenty of that here. I have to persuade
the Treasurer that I’m who I say I am and that the money belongs
to me.’
‘Isn’t it a little dangerous to trust all your money to somebody
else? He might try to cheat you.’
‘Sendarians are very honest, Geran. I don’t think the Treasurer
would do that – and if he has, I have ways to persuade him that
he’s made a mistake.’
And so, early the next morning, Prince Geran and I went to the
palace of King Falben of Sendaria and to the solidly built wing of
that palace that was the repository of the royal treasury. There was
the usual delay before we were admitted to the musty-smelling
office of the Royal Treasurer. Over the years I’ve noticed that people
who are preoccupied with money always seem to have that same
odor about them. Money’s almost always locked up somewhere,
and nobody who takes care of it ever seems to think of opening the
windows to air the place out.
Baron Stilnan, the Royal Treasurer, was a very serious man whose
office walls were covered from floor to ceiling with bookcases filled
to overflowing with leather-bound account books. There was an
almost religious hush in the baron’s office. That’s appropriate, I
guess, since money is a religion to the man who spends all his time
counting it.
‘I know you’re busy, your Excellency,’ I said after Geran and I
had been escorted into his office and had seated ourselves, ‘so I’ll
get right to the point. Quite some time ago my family placed certain
funds in the care of the crown. I’m here to withdraw some of that
money.’
‘I’d need verification of that, Lady -?’
‘We can get to names and other things later, your Excellency. The
funds in question are recorded in Volume One of your account
books – page 736, if I remember correctly.’
He looked dubious, but he went to his bookshelf and pulled down
the last volume on the left of the top shelf.
‘You’ll find a sealed piece of parchment pinned to the page,
Baron,’ I advised him. ‘There’s a word written on that parchment,
It’s a sort of password that’s there to identify me.’ I pushed a scrap
of paper with the name ‘Ontrose’ written on it across his desk. ‘I
think you’ll find that this is the word.’
Baron StilnSn blew the dust off the heavy account book, leafed
through, found the page, and unpinned the parchment. ‘This is the
royal seal of King Fundor the Magnificent!’ he exclaimed.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘I know. Fundor was kind enough to take over the
management of the account. The name I gave you matches the name
on the parchment, doesn’t it?’
‘Yes, it does. The entry says that the original deposit was made
by the Duchess of Erat. Are you her descendant, madame?’
‘I am the duchess, Baron, and I haven’t any descendants.’
‘The entry’s a hundred and eighty years old, my Lady.’
‘Has it been that long? Where does the time go?’
‘I’ll have to consult with King Falben about this, my Lady. The
account’s under royal protection, so he’s the only one who can
release funds.’
I sighed. ‘What a bother. Please keep this to yourself, Baron. I
have reasons for not wanting my business here to become general
knowledge.’
‘Only the king shall know of it, my Lady.’
King Falben of Sendaria was a plain-looking man dressed in sober
brown. He was about forty, and there was a bustling sort of air
about him that you see in people who have a dozen or more things
to do all at the same time. ‘Now,’ he said as he entered the office,
what’s this all about, my Lady? Stilnan here was babbling
something about a very old account in the royal treasury.’