swiftness that might have been genuinely magical,
he plunged into a deep sleep.
Denis awoke suddenly, and feeling greatly
refreshed. He was surprised to see that the pattern
of tree shadows on the tent had shifted very little,
and no great length of time could have passed.
What had awakened him he did not know.
Listening to the silence outside the tent, he
thought that there was some unusual tension in it.
He got up and left the tent. Seeing that some peo-
ple were still gathered at the place where he had
left Sir Andrew and Dame Yoldi, he hurried in that
direction. Now, as he walked, Denis could see a few
more people in orange and black approaching
quickly on foot along the landward road. These
were turning and gesturing, as if to indicate that
someone or something of importance was coming
after them. Everyone nearby was looking in that
direction.
Denis halted in surprise at sight of the next two
figures that appeared down the road. Both were
wearing black and silver, the colors of Yambu. Both
were mounted, riding freely, not at all like prison-
ers. Still, neither was visibly armed. One was a
burly man, and the other-
With a silent gasp, Denis recognized the Silver
Queen herself. He had seen her twice before, both
times years ago, both times in the city of Tashigang.
She, as the city’s formal overlord, had been
appearing then in ceremonial processions. He, then
no more than a street urchin, had been clinging to
precarious perches above the crowds, eager to
watch.
In those processions the Queen had ridden her
virtually unique mount, a superbly trained and
deadly warbeast. Her steed today was less remarka-
ble, though still magnificent, a huge riding beast
matching that ridden by her companion. This burly
man, her escort, as they approached Sir Andrew
and the others waiting, dropped a deferential half-
length behind.
The two riders halted, calmly, at a little distance
from where the folk in orange and black were wait-
ing to receive them. They dismounted there and
approached Sir Andrew’s group on foot, the tall
Queen a pace ahead in her light silvery ceremonial
armor, taking long strides like a man. Denis calcu-
lated that she must be now well into her middle
thirties, though her tanned face looked younger.
Her whole body was strong and lithe, and despite
her stride the generously female shape of her body
left no doubt at all about her sex. The Queen’s nose,
Denis noted now in private impertinence, was too
big for her ever to be called pretty, by any reason-
able usage of the word. And yet, all in all-well, if
he were to meet some woman of attainable station
who looked just like her, he’d not refuse a chance to
know her better.
And have you forgotten me already? The voice of
Aphrodite came to Denis only in his imagination. It
shook him, though, in a resonance of conflicting
feelings.
Sir Andrew was standing with folded arms, wait-
ing for his visitors, as if the last thing in the world
he might do would be to make any gesture acknow-
ledging his old enemy’s greater rank. But she,
approaching, as if she thought he might do so and
wished to forestall him, was quick to make the first
gesture of greeting, flinging up her right hand in the
universal gesture of peace.
“We meet again!” The Silver Queen’s. voice,
hearty and open, neither assumed a royal superior-
ity nor pretended a friendship that did not exist.
“My honored enemy! Would that my friends and
allies were half as dependable as you. So, will you
take my hand? And never mind the fripperies of
rank.”
And when Dame Yoldi moved between them,
Queen Yambu added: “Aye, lady, you may look at
my hand first. I bring no poisoning, no tricks; which
is not to say that none such were suggested by my
magicians.
Dame Yoldi did indeed make a brief inspection of
the Queen’s hand. Meanwhile Denis was having to
use his elbows to keep himself from being crowded
back by the small but growing throng of Sir
Andrew’s people who wanted to observe the meet-
ing closely. There had evidently been more than
twenty on the island after all. He managed to
remain close enough to see that the Queen’s hand
looked like a soldier’s, being short-nailed, spotted
with callouses-the sort that came from gripping
weapons-and strong. But, for all that, it was
shapely, and not very large.
The Queen’s offered hand was briefly engulfed in
Sir Andrew’s massive paw. And then the Knight
stood back again, grim-faced, arms folded, waiting
to hear more.
The Queen cast a look around her. Sir Andrew’s
friends and bodyguard, heavily armed, most of
them impressive warriors, were hovering suspi-
ciously close to her and her companion, and looking
as grim as Sir Andrew did himself.
She said to the Knight: “I do trust you, you see,
and your safe-conduct guarantee. In nine years of
fighting you, off and on, I’ve learned to know you
well enough for that.”
The Knight’ spoke to her for the first time. “And
we have learned something of your character as
well, Madam. And of yours, Baron Amintor. Now,
what will you have of me? Why this urgent call for a
meeting?”
The Baron was as big and solid as Sir Andrew, and
with much the same hearty and honest look, though
the Silver Queen’s companion was probably the
younger of the two men by some fifteen years. Both
were battle-scarred, Denis observed, evidently real
fighters. Amintor’s eyes were intelligent, and Denis
had heard that he was gifted with a diplomatic tongue
when he chose to use it.
And the Queen . . . this Queen had been no more
than a half-grown girl when she ascended to the
throne of Yambu. Her first act afterward, it was said,
had been to put to death the plotters who had
murdered both her parents in an abortive coup
attempt. Nor had the throne been easy for her to hold,
through the twenty years that followed. Many plotters
and intriguers during that time had gone the way of
that first set. Ever since its shaky beginning, her reign-
except in a few lucky places like Tashigang-had not
been gentle. It was said that she grew ever more
obsessed with the idea that there were plots against
her, and that about four years ago she had sold her
bastard adolescent daughter into slavery, because of
the girl’s supposed involvement in one. The girl,
Ariane, had been her only child; everyone knew that
the Silver Queen had never married formally.
Now the Queen said to Sir Andrew, “I like a man
who can come straight to the point. But just one
question first: are you aware that the Dark King now
has the Mindsword in his possession?”
The Knight answered calmly. “We have been so
informed.”
Both the Queen and Baron Amintor appeared
somewhat taken aback by this calm response. Yambu
said, “And I thought that you were existing in a
backwater here! My compliments to your intelligence
service.”
And Amintor chimed in: “You’ll agree, I’m sure, Sir
Andrew, that the fact does change the strategic
situation for us all.”
Sir Andrew took just a moment to consider him in
silence, before facing back to the Queen. “And just
what, Madam, do you expect this change to mean?”
The Silver Queen laughed. It was a pleasant, rueful
sound. There was a fallen tree nearby, a twisted log
that rested at a convenient height on the stubs of its
own .branches, and she moved a couple of steps to it
and sat down.
“I foresee myself as Vilkata’s first victim, unless I
do something about it, quickly. I’ll speak plainly-if
you’ve begun to know me, as you say, you know that’s
how I prefer to speak. If Vilkata with the Mindsword
in his hand falls on my army now, then unless they can
withstand it somehow-and I’ve no reason to hope they
can-then my army will at best melt away. At worst it’ll
join Vilkata and augment his strength, which is already
greater than yours and mine combined.
“You, of course, will applaud my fall and my
destruction-but not for very long.”
The Knight, his aspect one of unaltered grimness,
nodded. “So, Queen of Yambu, what do you
propose?”
“No more than what you must have already
guessed, Sir Andrew. An alliance, of course, between
us two.” Yambu turned her head slightly;
her noble bearing at the moment could almost turn the
fallen log into a throne. “Tell him, good Dame, if you
love him-an alliance with me now represents his only
chance.”
Neither Sir Andrew nor his enchantress gave an
immediate answer. But the Knight looked so black
that, had he spoken, Denis thought the conference
would have ended on the instant.
Dame Voldi asked the Queen, “Suppose we should
join forces against Vilkata-what then? How do you