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Omerye gasped in horror. "Do not even think that, my love. If you went to King Domas, and told him all
that had happened, he would indeed summon Raveline, and chastise him severely. He might even require
the prince to exile himself in a far-off estate, saying the sight of him sickens decent men's eyes. And you
would be rewarded for your honesty. But Raveline would be welcomed back to Irayas in a few months,
and you would be gone.
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Even though the brothers hate one another ... no one is permitted to embarrass the royal family. No one.
Besides, in Vacaan, matters are handled more delicately. A way we might deal with the situation is for me
to have a word with some friends who are considered wise in the eyes of the king. And for those friends
to chat with their friends. These discussions would be held most privately and most quietly. In
time-perhaps a week, perhaps a month, we can also have a word with Beemus. Then a whisper will float
past the king's ears. He will have his most subtle chamberlains investigate, most privately, and most
quietly. Once he learns the truth, and he will learn it all if he wishes, then Prince Raveline might be reined
in. He will suddenly be ordered to mount an expedition against the bandits to the north, perhaps."
I was incredulous. "Just like that, the situation will return to normal, and Orissa's and my problems be
solved?" I was quite incredulous.
"As I said, Raveline has been brought to heel before, and in matters that we, at least, consider more
important than the fate of two barbarian cities far to the west. Forgive me, Amalric my love, but that is
how Vacaanese think."
I knew that nothing, especially the vagaries of prices, could be guaranteed. But Omerye had offered the
only real plan that made sense. On the morrow, I would return to Janos and we could resolve our
argument. I was still angry, having seen the raw steel of his ambition. But I told myself none of us are
perfect, and the Far Kingdoms had been his obsession much longer than mine. But still, I knew as I lay
down to rest that our friendship would no longer continue on quite as easy a basis as it had.
i WOKE AN hour later with a scream trapped in my chest. It boiled up violently and tried to prise open
my lips, but still it would not come. Omerye tossed and turned uneasily beside me. It was as if I was
awake and at the same time deep in a fever stupor.
Two things blazed through my mind. The first I already knew, at least in principle: a black wizard will
feed and batten off pain, fear, and death. If Raveline were to carry out his plan, Orissa and Lycanth
would become chaos. Armies would clash and sway across our lands, armies degenerating into bandits
and murderers. In time, we, too, would be nothing more than bloody wasteland like the Disputed Lands,
and I could imagine Raveline's face hanging high above those gory wastes, smiling at the destruction that
was as mother's milk to him.
If Raveline were to be allowed to carry out his plan ... and
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then I recollected what Raveline had said about wanting Janos as his hellhound. And I thought:
hellhound? Or assassin? Janos was not under any ban preventing him from conspiring against the House
of Domas. Mistake me not-even in this waking nightmare I did not vision Janos skulking through the
king's palace with a drawn and poisoned blade. But could Janos mount, lead, and execute a coup? To
then be cut down in his moment of victory by a newly crowned king, sorrowing for his brother's murder?
No. That was too fantastic. I dragged myself out of my mind's maelstrom. I looked out the window. Even
though it was still dark, I could hear the sleepy chirping of birds in my garden. Once more, I should not
have been able to sleep, but did. I do not remember my head striking the pillow. All I can recollect is my
thought that the morrow would be a very different day indeed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The Cavern
i WOKE INTO nightmare. Torches flared on either side of me. I lay on cold, wet stone. The reek of
mildew filled my nostrils, and I tasted the hard iron of blood in my mouth. I knew where I was: I was still
in the dungeon of the Archons, far below the great sea castle of Lycanth. I was awakening from one of
those marvelous dreams where half a lifetime passes, and every moment is perfectly detailed. Janos and I
had never escaped this dungeon, had never fought the Evocators for the soul of the Orissan people, had
never journeyed beyond the Pepper Coast and the haunted city to enter the Far Kingdoms. I
remembered the dream woman named Omerye, realized she never was, and my eyes welled. At least the
gods had sent me a moment of imaginary happiness in that long and frequently dreadful dream.
I awakened more, my mind still wandering the maze of that intricate fantasy. I remembered not only
escaping from this dungeon, but just how we escaped. That brought me to full alertness. I looked about
the condemned cell for Janos. I would tell him my dream, particularly that part dealing with this
Lycanthian dungeon, and perhaps we could build on my illusion to prepare a real escape.
A voice grated, "Up wi' ye, Antero! Th' spell's had more'n enough time to wear away."
And I was not back in the Archons' dungeon. I was in a sodden stone cell, but it was small and
cramped. There was no one else around me-no guards, no torturers across the way, no fellow prisoners,
and no Janos. I was alone ... except for one other: Greif. He sat curled on a heavy bench against the far
wall. He was smiling. I forced myself to my feet.
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"Lord Antero," he mocked. "Y' wake. Shall I send in th' wenches to draw your bath? Servants t' lay out
your silks? P'raps that fine-titty musician you been futterin' t' play a tune? Woulda like to have brought
that along, an' let you watch me pleasure her f'r a bit. But 'twarn't permitted."
My mind a whirligig, I said nothing. Nor could I move further from where I stood. Greif got up and
strolled to me. I saw his gaping eye socket, black and oozing corruption. My thrust with the spear butt
had indeed put out one of his eyes. Greif knew what I was staring at, and his muscle-knotted fist
smashed into my stomach. I gagged and went to my knees, breath driven out
He booted me over onto my back and stared down. "Aye," he said. "You put out one of my glims, you
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did. But I found a better way to see. M' masters give me ... somethin' t' spy with. Gi' me a bit of their
power, t' look at men, an' see some'at of their intents." Greif tapped his empty eye socket, then laughed,
very hard, and his mirth echoed around the stone room.
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