Prologue

The man's voice was a gasping rasp. "Quickly, quickly!"

He could sense them, feel their bodies close. This one was failing him, burned, destroyed by the power it carried. They chanted, foolish nonsense evolved over generations. They had no real power, only the lust for it. If they wanted to indulge in this cultish playacting to flatter themselves, he did not mind. The closer it bound them to him, the better.

The world was dim with more than torchlight. He could feel this body dying, the separation and pain.

"Do it now!"

One was presented. They had some vain selection process, bickering amongst themselves. He forced the faltering vessel to stand, to take this new one close so he could See it.

Strong enough, cunning. Eager. Accepting.

It was an agony unlike anything this mortal could have imagined, could possibly endure. Even the most slavering devotees edged back as he moved from the dead husk to the new. The old one's soul had long since burned into nothingness. This one was even weaker.

How long since he had felt the might of old? How weak had men grown these generations?

They would learn soon enough true power.

He stood, feeling the potential of this body. He flexed his hands, felt his chest. It would do, for now.

These acolytes, these slaves, of all races and kens, cowered before him.

"Go," he told them.

They scrambled to get out of reach. This soul's memories were weak, but interesting. There were people here, a populace. A recent war.

He tried to find him, but this body was just too weak. He cursed it, even as he reveled in its prophesy. Men had grown weak and he had grown strong. He was so close. He could just feel him. Now, he only needed to survive long enough to find him.

He caught the last of the acolytes, cringing in the darkness. It mewled pathetically as he drained its life force into his own. Dropping the carcass, he straightened with renewed strength.

There were many people here. He would be strong when the time came, strong enough to take back what was his.

Chapter One: Into the Watch

The sun washed the dusty landscape into a shimmering, golden haze. Squinting against the brilliance, he could just see the caravan moving swiftly across the plain. The merciless sun glinted off the metal of the outriders' armor.

The pine trees gave little shade. He climbed back to the earth, almost skipping down the branches. The rich, tingling scent of the sap followed him to the ground. He stayed crouched in the dry grass at the base of the tree and glanced over the camp.

The tree he had just vacated was the tallest in the area, maybe thirty, thirty-five feet. The rest were low and tough, standing firm, but bent under the power of the wind. His soldiers were at the ready, watching the surrounding countryside. He had hand-picked this team, each man loyal and intelligent. He wished there were three times the number, but that decision had been out of his hands.

"Captain?"

Lord Ordon was waving for him. The older man sat relaxed but alert in the shade of an awning erected between stout poles. His lord smiled at him.

"Did you touch the clouds, my champion?"

The old joke roused a brief answering smile. "None to be seen, my lord. The caravan has crossed the river."

Ordon sighed and rubbed his face. A solitary bird chirped hesitantly in the morning hush. Then, "Is this a good idea, Link?"

Ordon's champion grimaced. "Do we have a choice?"

Lord Ordon glanced to the northwest, where the mountains rose up to meet a shadow. Even the brilliant spring day did nothing to dispel it. Link refused to look, defying the menace there. Ordon sighed again, this time wearily. The years had been unkind to him and travel aggravated old wounds.

"You should be resting," Link said.

"You kept me up, prowling around my tent like a wolf."

He hadn't been able to help himself. Not long ago, setting foot in this place brought a swift, merciless death. The years spent eradicating the evil here would not be soon forgotten. Demon teeth crunched with the gravel under his boots.

"You need to change, my boy."

Link hunched his shoulders. "I hate wearing that."

"It is the traditional ceremonial garb of the Champion of Ordona and you will present yourself appropriately." Ordon's stern words didn't hide his amusement.

"It's blue."

"Matches your eyes."

"And provides no camouflage or defense."

"How is Baeark recovering from his ignominious defeat? Does he still vow to crush your skull between his thighs?"

Link bit back his retort. After a brief mental struggle, annoyed at Ordon's knowing look, he bowed. "As you will, my lord."

The corners of Ordon's eyes crinkled. "Good lad."

Link bowed again, stiffly, and stalked off to his tent.

Inside was stuffy and growing hot under the sun. Link stripped out of his usual tunic, buff-colored to match the drab landscape around them. The Champion's Tunic was lovingly wrapped in white linen. He shook out the folds and glared at it.

"Captain? The envoy has signaled!"

Indulging in the profanity he had restrained before his lord, Link pulled the blue garment over his head. "Assemble the guard!"

But it was with real reverence that he picked up his weapon. The Champion's Tunic was symbolic, the brilliant azure dye difficult to produce, but nothing more. Men wore Ordon blue obi on feast days, woman tied ribbons of it into their hair to honor their Champion.

Link drew the blade a hands-breadth and examined his reflection in the steel of the Master Sword.

This made the Champion.

He buckled the baldric and belt securely, comforted by the weight of the weapon on his back. The power within the blade stirred, rousing from its slumber to touch Link's thoughts.

Champion.

Almost a sigh, the faintest whisper. Then it receded. He would never forget the first time it had murmured to him, acknowledged him. He dreaded a day when it did not.

"All is ready, Captain."

Link shook his head to dispel his thoughts.

"Lord Ordon?"

"Awaits your pleasure, sir."

The guards were waiting on horseback. Ordon grinned at his Champion.

"You wear the Blue well."

Link mounted, stony-faced.

"Keep alert."

Muffled chuckles escaped from his men. He rode next to Ordon, eyes busy on the landscape. Ordon's fingers drummed on his legs.

There was no way to listen over the noise of the horses, but Link watched the shadows of the windswept bushes. The rise and fall of the land was deceptive. Hollows lay in every direction, an ideal place for an ambush to hide.

Soon, the foreign envoy could be seen. Their camp sat on a rise. A small party rode to meet the Ordonians in flat pan of earth.

The Hylian queen stopped her horse and examined them. The tension carried a hint of awkwardness. Not unexpected, when hereditary enemies met to parlay.

"Ordon," she said finally.

"Hyrule. Well met." Ordon spoke the Common tongue with ease.

"And thee."

"May we…?" Ordon gestured as if to dismount.

"Please."

Link shadowed his lord. His men carried forward a camp chair and arranged it for their king. Ordon waited while the queen was helped to the ground. Link evaluated her personal guard with professional interest. The man did the same.

Longer reach…keep your distance, then strike when he is off balance. Favors his left.

The soldier's hard face did not appear impressed by Link's shorter build. Then his eyes found the distinctive hilt and cross-guard of the Master Sword over Link's shoulder and paused. When the man met Link's eyes again, he gave a slight nod of respect. Link returned the acknowledgement and breathed easier.

The rulers were in place. They sat looking over the desert, faces carefully neutral.

"How is your father?" Ordon asked.

"Weakening, but well. We hope for a few more seasons."

They spoke of harvests and rainfall for several minutes. Then the queen spoke in a suddenly brisk voice. "Now, enough of this nonsense, Ordon."

Ordon smiled with real amusement. "Agreed. What concessions are you prepared to offer?"

"Concessions?" she demanded. "As though you have not unlawfully occupied the Eblea Valley these past twenty years and more!"

Link stopped listening as they wrangled. The men relaxed as the morning passed. Link made a small hand motion. His lieutenant murmured to them and they renewed their vigilance.

"Captain?" Ordon beckoned him forward.

"Sir?"

"Report to the queen."

The Shadow watched as Link spoke.

"The pass to Druynia has been blocked. Some refugees escaped before winter, speaking of a man, a sorcerer, taking control of the countryside. Demons and monsters roam freely in the hills west of the Watch."

"You have proof?" she asked, eyeing him coolly.

"My own eyes." He tried to keep the ends of his words from snapping off, but her condescension irritated him.

She sat silent for a long moment. Her guard leaned and said something in her ear. She nodded and turned to face them fully.

"I will be honest, Ordon. We cannot fight this menace. I have neither the military might nor the support of my people to engage directly with Druynia." Her words were bleak. "The last war still weighs heavy on their hearts."

Ordon spoke now as a father to a young daughter. For she was young, Link realized, younger than he had thought.

"Mine also do not wish for war. Peace has been fleeting over the generations for my people. But we sit on Druynia's doors. Ordon will never relinquish our freedom. We would be the first to fight and the first to fall."

Hyrule was hard to read, her face nearly expressionless as she considered. She turned to Link.

"You, soldier."

The Sword hummed with his anger. Ordon's eyes warned him silently, as if he didn't know better than to rise to her deliberate taunt.

"Ma'am?"

"If your king, at this moment, commanded you to kill me, would you do it?"

Her guard spluttered indignantly. Link matched her challenging stare.

"No."

"Why?"

"Ordon would never break his pledge."

She smiled mirthlessly. "And if you deemed me a threat?"

"Without hesitation."

Her guard gripped his own sword. She held up a hand, checking his motion to move between them.

Link didn't know what she was looking for in his face. Her mouth relaxed, from a twist of bitterness to something genuine.

"I commend you, Ordon, on your choice of Champion."

Ordon thanked her. "I can take no credit, however, as I have no say in the matter. But yes, Link serves Ordona well. As he will any who battle against darkness."

She looked to the Shadow, then turned her back on it. The Sword whispered warning, uneasy whenever Link thought of the darkness gathering.

"There will be those who say we should not fight," Hyrule said. "I have spoken with representatives from Theica and Drex. They are reluctant to commit, preaching caution and discretion. There is word this sorcerer is a legitimate ruler."

"Perhaps. This does not excuse his aggression."

Link lost their conversation. A shadow moved across the sparse grass. Too swift for a cloud. No sizzle of magic.

Above!

Hyrule yelped as he kicked over her chair, sending her crashing into her guard's arms. Link shoved Ordon to the ground and lifted his shield to catch the projectiles unleashed on them.

The steel rang like bells, the force of the impacts numbing his arm. The assailant swooped over and was past.

The men shouted, loosing arrows after the rapidly diminishing shape. Link dropped his shield and snatched a bow from the soldier next to him.

The sun glared into his eyes as he tried to track it. The fletching brushed his cheek. He aimed high and released.

"Did you hit it?" Ordon demanded, brushing himself off. Link squinted against the brilliant sky.

"Maybe a glancing blow. Phytos, Hent, see what you can find." He yanked out the foot-long spike embedded in his shield. He could feel the razor edge even through his gloves. He passed it to Ordon, who fingered it gingerly. "Yrni."

"In these parts?" Ordon asked.

"Could be a solitary hunter." He doubted it; he'd destroyed the last of their nests in the Pellisans last spring. Someone had sent it here from deep in the Kvirs where the remnants of the species took refuge.

Hyrule was dusting off her riding skirt.

"Well," she said. "It appears my advisers are not the only one's against a treaty between us."

The alarm in the camp had to be calmed, scouts sent to reconnoiter the perimeter. Link waited impatiently for his men to return.

"Yrni, sir," they confirmed. "Dead."

Hyrule turned to him, eyebrows raised. "An excellent shot, Champion. I will forgive you your treatment of my person."

No amount of training could stop Link's sneer. She saw and laughed openly at him. Ordon pressed a firm hand into his shoulder. Link took a slow breath in and calm with it.

"My lord, we may be compromised. We need to leave."

Ordon hesitated. Then he gave Hyrule a bow. "I apologize, Your Majesty. I regret I must end this discussion prematurely. May I contact you for further negotiations?"

Hyrule stared after the flight path of the attacker. Despite her youth, there were lines by her eyes. Her guard touched her arm, a clear plea to leave.

She returned the gesture, smiling up at him. He scowled. She turned to Ordon.

"Lord Ordon, may I accompany you?"

Ordon hid his shock well. "Into Ordon?"

"That is where you are going, correct? Unless you were using this as an opportunity to penetrate Hyrule while I was away from the palace?" Link kept his face carefully neutral, as he had suggested that very thing when they first received Hyrule's missive. Ordon was a better man than him and refused such subterfuge.

"Will not your people grow concerned when you do not return?" Ordon asked.

"I am said to be at my summer house recuperating from a nasty croup," Hyrule said. "I feel we have more to discuss. Or will you let an assassin end our peace talks?"

Ordon saw Link's small head shake but chose to ignore his warning. "We would be honored by your company."

"My lord-"

"Your Majesty-"

Link and the Hyrule guard spoke over each other, unable to keep their protests silent. Hyrule spoke firmly.

"That is all, Sheik."

The man pressed his lips together. Link had a moment of sympathy for the soldier. Ordon adopted the fatherly tone Link resented with a fierce passion.

"Link, my boy, go fetch the horses."

But if this Sheik could mind his tongue in front of his monarch, so could he.

"Yes, my lord."

Zelda watched the boy Link stalk to the horses. For he was not much more than a boy, much younger than she envisioned the Champion to be. Sheik fumed silently next to her, scowling as Link led her horse close.

"Thank you, Champion," he said stiffly, closing his hands on the reins. "I will assist Her Majesty."

This Link said nothing, merely turned and went to get his master's mount.

It took another half hour to get the cavalcade moving. Sheik fidgeted impatiently at every delay. He watched the sky and the horizon, eyes moving constantly.

Finally, they rode, Ordon and her at the center of a ring of soldiers, their personal guards at their sides. Under cover of Ordon chatting merrily with his men, Sheik leaned in to protest once more.

"This is insane," he hissed. "You trust them?"

"You don't?"

"No."

Zelda followed his gaze to where the Champion sat erect in his saddle.

"He holds the Master Sword."

"I do not regard such bucolic nonsense, a fairy legend."

Zelda disagreed. "Legends have solid roots."

Sheik grunted. "It may be the true Master Sword, but that does not render him harmless."

It was surprising to see such a fabled weapon in the hands of one so young. Ordon had been rumored to hold the Sword for generations, despite attempts by other monarchs to steal the divine power for themselves. If it was the true Sword…

Zelda chanced a look. Closing her eyes, she reached out. Sliding past the warmth of the others, the larger forms of the horses, she found the blade a cool slash in the heat of the day.

She brushed it, probing gently. A sharp flare and she was thrust back.

"Link, what is it?"

Zelda blinked to focus on him, head reeling from the strength of the mental blow.

The Champion sat alert, scanning the horizon. He gripped the hilt of the Master Sword, still in its sheath.

"There was…" he said slowly. Zelda tried to look innocent as he swept the group with his cold stare. His eyes paused on her, then moved on. "Nothing, my lord."

But he increased the speed of the group. Zelda could see the subtle hand signals he gave. His men responded to the silent commands smoothly. Her soldiers pressed closer. Pairs of his men broke off and rode sweeps of the area as they crossed the last of the valley floor.

Ordon maintained his cheerful demeanor, but she saw him watch his Champion. Warily, but without fear. With trust, she realized. The king was looking to the youth for guidance.

The boy did not relax his vigilance until they crossed a narrow bridge in a cleft between two towering hills. The river below roared at them from the bottom of the canyon. Link drew up his horse and waited until the party had crossed.

"All clear, sir," a man three times his age said, dipping his head respectfully.

Link raised a hand. Zelda peered in the direction he looked, up into the hills. Maybe a faint glint of light, perhaps from a telescope lens?

"Hurry up, Link, I'm starving!"

The Ordonians chuckled as Link smiled briefly at his king.

"Lead the way, my lord."

To say the Ordonians were surprised was a gross understatement. The crowd that gathered cried welcome to their king, but quickly fell silent as Zelda accepted his hand to dismount.

Ordon pretended nothing was amiss. "Firn, prepare a room for Her Majesty."

An aged woman bowed. "At once, my lord."

Glad to escape the whispers, Zelda followed the crone into a house set beside a small stream. Her meager baggage was quickly unpacked and set out to air.

Sheik went over the small but cozy space inch by inch. Zelda left him to it and stood at the window. The shutters opened inward, revealing a view of the valley.

The King's House lay at the head of the depression, snuggled up against the solid cliffs behind. Her guest house sat just below, with the other residences of the royal household completing the complex.

The city followed the twists of the valley floor, opening into the forest they had passed through after the bridge. Zelda knew above the cliffs were rolling fields, carefully tended with highland wheat and other grains. The cliffs themselves held gold and iron, as well as precious gems.

This country was small, but mighty, both in spirit and wealth. And Ordon spoke the truth: they would fight until they were overrun, fierce and valiant to the last man.

Speaking of whom…The Champion, distinctive in his brilliant blue tunic, walked up the wide stairs connecting the various dwellings to the King's House. Zelda used the opportunity to study him closer with no fear of drawing his attention.

"Make no mistake," Sheik said next to her. "He would not hesitate."

Zelda smiled without humor. "I do not doubt it."

The woman Firn cleared her throat. "Your Majesty, a meal awaits."

Zelda followed her to the main house. Ordon stood and saluted her.

"Welcome and well met, Hyrule. Please sit." Firn arranged her in a low, wide chair. She reached up as she passed Link and patted his cheek. The Champion's quick smile warmed his eyes for an instant.

The meal was subdued. Ordon made small talk, but fatigue and wariness stilted the conversation. Sheik loomed protectively and Link responded by glowering all the more. Zelda bit the inside of her cheek to stop her giggles.

The next morning dawned misty and cool. Zelda lay in her bed and listened to the house-workers move about the complex. A chorus of bleats signaled the passing of a herd of sheep into their daily grazing grounds. The town below bustled. Much like her own city, shopkeepers hawked wares, carts ferried goods along cobbled streets.

But over it all hung the Shadow. A reverse sunrise, a diminishing of light rather than a promising glow. Zelda faced it boldly, refusing to be cowed.

Breakfast was served in the same room. The atmosphere had eased. The Champion became slightly more human, sitting cross legged at his lord's feet and eating the savory rice pudding and eggs Firn brought him.

The Master Sword lay at his side. Zelda would give much to have it in her hands for an hour. The power she had probed yesterday was ancient and foreign. She dare not attempt to touch it again, not in such close quarters. The boy would know it was her for certain. She didn't want to die before breakfast.

Ordon led her on a tour of his small city. Zelda looked with real interest. The people were well fed and happy. They greeted their king with unaffected pleasure.

Somewhat surprising was the equally enthusiastic welcome the people gave the dour Champion.

Dressed in a dull, sand colored tunic and breeches, he blended into the buildings around him. He ignored the salutations, which Zelda thought unpardonably rude until she saw Ordon's wink and the boy's blush.

She looked again and saw many of the well-wishers were young women. They waved blue ribbons as the horses passed. Link kept his face forward, cheeks red.

Ordon spoke his native tongue with a heavy accent, but Zelda thought he said, "Give them some hope, lad."

To which the bristling 'lad' replied, "Davin, dress your line."

An officer Zelda assumed to be Davin directed his men to tighten their perimeter. The man saw her watching and his smile vanished.

After duly admiring the city and its people, Zelda was ready for a meal and more negotiations.

She had done her best to hide her feelings yesterday. Kept her carefully cool façade which hid her fear. Sheik knew, and her most trusted advisors, but few others, of the threat she received.

The afternoon wore away as Ordon's councilmen and women went through the usual posing. It was oddly comforting to know bureaucracy plagued every ruler. Zelda listened politely.

Her eyes were drawn to the Champion again. To the power he held. Could the others not feel it, the force churning within him. Could he? Did he know what he wielded?

Link fought to keep awake. Servants lit the lamps as the early spring night closed around them. It was comfortably warm and Lady Ai'kish droned on and on about water taxes. Or was it fishing rights? Her speech had become so convoluted Link wasn't sure she knew what she was saying.

Her voice faded to a murmur. Link stirred, surprised by the quiet. The room had gone still, muffled. Was he dreaming?

The Master Sword hummed. Ai'kish's mouth was open, stopped mid-word. The flames in the lamps were still. A moth hung motionless next to the glass.

Link stood. He moved freely. His steps echoed on the plank floor. The blade of the Sword gleamed with its own light, casting pale beams into the shadows.

The air carried no scent of magic. Not one he knew, at least. He examined Hyrule a moment. Her hands lay on the table, her face frozen in the blank politeness Link knew well from his time serving in Ordon's household.

He had felt something from her yesterday. A questioning brush on his thoughts. Ordon had not been surprised when Link reported it. The rulers of Hyrule often possessed such magic, he said.

Her guard stood behind her, arms crossed over his chest. Marks of war marred his skin, muscles toned from experience. Link knew he would win if they fought, but it would be a close thing.

He opened the doors to the balcony that ran around the house. The moon was just rising, a gibbous waning to new. What was this?

He was uneasy, the Sword warm in his hand. This must be magic, but whose?

The Shadow looked as it did in his dreams. Grasping at the stars, streaked with toxic light. It hung over his home, waiting for a moment of weakness.

The touch of the Goddess was there. The Sword's keen power. The deep, ancient feel of the earth. And…

Link turned. A shadow moved on the wall. It writhed and broke free.

The Sword whistled, cleaving the air. Fetid blood burned his skin. The Sword flashed as he reversed his swing and drove the point home where its heart should be.

It grinned at him, chattering. Link silenced it by removing its head.

There was screaming. Link turned, his heel smearing blood into the wooden tabletop. The council members stared in horror at the creature still twitching on the floor.

Ordon gave orders in a loud, but calm voice. The room cleared quickly. Link could hear his Lieutenants raising the alarm. He left them to it.

Hyrule stood by her chair. She examined the creature with cool detachment. Her guard attempted to mimic her, but the tendons in his wrists bulged where he gripped his swords.

"What is it?" she asked. Link realized she was speaking to him. He stepped off the low table and nudged the body over with his boot.

"Crytch." Not a clan he recognized, but no mistaking the claws and the stench.

She frowned. "Demon?" she translated. "But where did it come from?"

Link found a piece of cloth, a shawl abandoned in the panic, and wiped the foul spoor off the blade. He did not miss how her eyes followed his motion, gaze lingering on the Sword a moment.

Ordon was angry and trying to hide it.

"Your Majesty, my deepest apologies. Please know I would never have-"

Hyrule waved him to silence. "I know you would never consort with such as this." She made a disgusted gesture in the direction of the body. "The question is, who would?"

Sheik's fingers bit into her shoulder. She understood and held herself ready to flee. He ignored the demon's carcass on the floor, his eyes on the Champion.

The snarl fixed on the demon's lifeless maw was nothing to the hate that had raged in the Champion's eyes as he slew the beast. They were calm again, a cold blue.

How had he moved so quickly? She had not seen him leap from where he sat at his master's feet, half asleep in the twilight, to the table top.

She kept her barriers firmly up. The calm in him was a veil, hiding whatever power he possessed. Could he feel her magic? Who was he?

Ordon was still apologizing. "We will have the city searched."

"It won't do any good," Link countered. "It came out of a shadow."

Ordon frowned. "'Came out of a shadow?'"

Link put his hand against the wall, fingers splayed. "This shadow."

Zelda lifted her skirts and stepped around the carcass. It was a blank stretch of wood planks. Painted a warm russet, it smelled of varnish and pine.

"What's on the other side of this wall?" she asked.

"The terrace," Link answered. "Visible from the guard tower."

"So, it didn't pass through the wall," she mused. "It truly came from the shadow. But how…"

There was something under her fingers, like the tingle of a nettle sting. He was watching her. She ignored him and spoke a word of command.

A sigil gleamed, eating away the paint.

If she thought his face hard before, it was nothing to his expression now. He slashed across the mark with the Sword. A snap, almost, and a whiff of demon stench, and the light faded leaving an ugly burn.

"Who has access to this room?" she asked.

"Everyone in the household." He turned to his king. "I will find who did this."

Ordon spoke with surprising gentleness. "It is not your fault, Link."

Zelda realized the sick feeling rolling off the Champion was shame.

"Until I do," Link continued evenly. "I request you remain in the House under continual guard."

Ordon tried to make a joke of it. "If I have any more guards, I won't be able to sit down in my own chambers."

Link bowed and walked out.

Zelda turned at Ordon's sigh. Several Ordonian guardsmen hurried in and took their places around their king. He grabbed one's sleeve.

"You stay with Link."

The man hesitated. "My lord, the Captain gave me a direct order-"

"Keep him safe."

The man nodded and left.

Zelda followed the king to his private chambers, herded along by at least a dozen swordsmen. Inside, they disposed themselves against the walls, by the windows and doors.

Zelda sighed. "I feel all diplomatic posturing is moot after this development."

Ordon smiled tiredly at her. "My dear lady, I quite agree."

She settled in a low chair. Sheik joined the other guards. They integrated him into their perimeter without complaint.

"Someone in your household wished to kill either you or me. Question is which?"

Ordon didn't respond at once, merely looked at her for a moment. "Perhaps."

"It seems quite obvious to me."

"Do you know any of the demon tongue?"

She grimaced. "Very little. Is there more than 'eat' or 'kill?'"

"Thankfully, few know the cursed language in its entirety in this day and age."

He was hedging, worried about something the sigil meant. Or perhaps…

"Did the creature speak before the Champion slew it?" she demanded.

Ordon glanced at his guards. "I do not think it was an assassin. Rather a messenger."

"From whom?"

"More importantly, for whom?"

He knew, Zelda realized. Why, then, did he not say? His eyes went to the guards again and he shifted in his chair.

A knock forestalled her next question.

"My lord? Captain Gotkasi has cleared the House. The Queen may return to her rooms. Surely she will be more comfortable there until the search is completed."

Which was a polite way of telling her to stay away from his king and out of his business. Zelda thanked the hapless subordinate coldly, who withdrew with comical haste.

"'Goat herder?'" she guessed. Her Ordonian didn't cover the more bucolic trades.

"The Champion? Yes."

"His family trade?" Unusual to find such a swordsman among menial laborers.

Ordon didn't answer at once. Then, "Link has no family. He was a slave, an indentured servant, if you like, along your southeastern coast. We think his owners were killed by raiders when he was young, maybe six or seven summers. Some of our herdsmen found him wandering in the waste between the sea and the hills. Doesn't remember much of what happened, which is probably for the best, given the…damage."

Without waiting for her reply, he stood. "Shall I send a meal to your room? I am sure my council members could use some reassurance."

She went, mulling over his words. He had told her something. She just needed to figure out what.

/

Goddess Touched or no, Link was tired. The sun was just rising again as he climbed the steps to the King's House. Davin followed doggedly, no doubt under command to stay by him.

"You'll be resting now, sir?" his lieutenant hinted, half hopeful, half pleading.

"Wake me mid-morning," Link ordered. "And keep the detail on Ordon."

"Yes, sir."

No matter how his bed called to him, Link went to his wide desk and rolled out his map of the city. Each borough was skillfully drawn in black ink, tiny glyphs marking families and trades.

He'd walked every street, it felt like. Feeling his way more than seeing. Searching for some magic, some taint akin to the demon mark.

Nothing.

Frustrated, he shoved the thick paper away. He unbuckled his belt and baldric, dropping the Sword onto his bed.

"Some help you are," he told it. It hummed reproachfully.

He rotated his shoulders, working out the knots. Old injuries complained in the damp weather.

Footsteps by his door made him pause; he didn't recognize them. A quick jump, a scramble into the rafters, and he peered through a tiny slit in the wall.

Hyrule and her guard.

None of her magic, either. He recognized it, now, after her subtle probes. Her skirts brushed the steps as she went into the Queen's House. Appropriate, as no native queen would reside there during this Ordon's rule.

Had the man reconsidered marrying her? Link climbed down and sat to remove his boots. Ordon's decision to reach out to Hyrule had been strongly opposed by every council member, a marriage proposal vetoed out of hand. It was an obvious solution to their problem, though Link knew Ordon would come out the worse of such a union. Hyrule would gain a consort rather than Ordon gaining a queen.

Would she accept? She was still young, but Link doubted she was the romantic type. She wanted to Master Sword and its Champion, that he knew. Question was: how badly? Enough to marry a man three times her age?

Would she get them? Would he serve her, if Ordon commanded it?

His loyalty to Ordon lived uneasily with his oath to the Goddess. It always did and he was grateful he could fulfill both obligations. But Ordon would not reign forever. To whom did owe his allegiance, then?

Sleep.

Link settled on the bed, arms behind his head.

Sleep, Link.

It was the same dreaming place. Link stood at his window and looked over the city. Ripples moved through the air, faint echoes of sound. The citizens hurrying about their tasks.

As before, he could move freely. The door felt muffled, distant somehow, but he could open it.

Hantor stood outside his door, leaning against the wall. Davin must have gone to bed. House workers littered the stairs and rooms.

Ordon sat in the council room. The wall had been scrubbed. The slash from the blade scored deep into the fibers of the wood. Where was Hyrule?

Her door resisted opening. A mark gleamed at his touch. A ward of some sort, protection against intrusion. From demons? Or him?

"Captain?"

Link drew a deep breath, coming awake. He was in his bed still. Groaning, he pushed away from the mattress.

Hantor knocked. "Captain Gotkasi?"

"Yes?"

"Midmorning, sir."

Being back in the hills herding goats sounded more and more appealing.

He made his report to Ordon.

"I am not surprised," the man said. "Thank you, Link."

He settled in his usual place. A bit archaic, but more comfortable than standing stiff at attention all day.

He glanced over the Hylian guard, standing beside his queen's cushion. Link had not seen the man sit, except for riding horseback. His knees must be killing him.

But he was different. Link frowned, reassessing. Hands resting on hilts, not holding. Leaning back, shoulders relaxed. Hyrule sat next to Ordon, not across the room as protocol dictated.

Ordon broke off mid-sentence. "Link?"

He had surged to his feet, but he wasn't sure why. The room held tense and still, thinking he had seen something. He tried to keep his voice calm.

"My lord…" How much Ordonian did she know? He regressed to the rough hill dialect his tutor had tried to cane out of him. "What did she tell you?"

Ordon took a moment to translate. "What do you mean?"

"You said there was to be no agreement." He wouldn't make such a decision without talking to him, would he? Link knew he had failed his king, but to not tell him!

Ordon was soothing. "As is well, lad."

They had come some understanding. He should not have let them be alone.

"Sit, Link. You're alarming the council."

Damn the council and damn Hyrule for interfering. But he did as he was commanded.

He always did.