CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Confrontation

REGALE, SIGMUND (C.Y. 253-303)...With a record of two imprisonments, an exile, struggles with illness and alcoholism, and at least one rumoured attempt on his life, Sigmund Regale was often viewed both by friends and enemies as the proverbial cat with nine lives, nearly impossible to confound or to kill. This mercurial and intelligent man, a founding father of Galvenian capitalism during the traditional monarchy, evoked strong emotions until the very end of his life – and despite the many enemies he made, his wife and his daughter remained his staunchest supporters. The stories that his death was hastened by poison (cf. THOMSSEN, EUGENE – TRIAL OF) have been considered plausible by researchers, though they remain unproven to this day. Similarly, his rumoured involvement in counter-espionage during the Terran War must be viewed agnostically – he may certainly have played his part, but no official records exist…

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALVENICA, 24th Edition, C.Y. 347

"A sermon, by the Infinity," Sigmund Regale said teasingly. "I thought spies and traitors were exempt from prison ministry, my lady."

"It is the duty of every member of the Church to visit those who are most in need of mercy," Lady Rochelle Anton said. "Besides, your wife asked me to pay you this visit."

"You're a friend of Emily's?" Sigmund smiled. "I don't remember seeing you before, but then Emily has so many friends that I can't keep track of every tea-party they have, Lady Rochelle. How may I help you?"

"Please do not jest, Mr. Regale," she said gravely. "You have heard, perhaps, of the arrest of Eugene Thomssen, the traitor and false man of God." Her voice trembled with indignation.

"Yes, I have," Sigmund replied darkly, "and a worse scoundrel would be hard to find. The papers say that he even played a part in spreading that fever among our children. What of him?"

"The word is out at Lorean Castle that he had something to do with the Queen's disappearance – and that one of his allies is still at large," Lady Anton replied. "I have heard it said that you know something of this."

Sigmund raised his eyebrows. "I see that Palace gossip, unlike most gossip, is accurate, my lady. But what is that to you? Are you also, despite your appearance, involved in some form of Intelligence work?" He chuckled.

"Good heavens, no," Lady Rochelle said nervously. "But if you do have such information, a word in the right place may save us more turmoil – and secure your freedom, Mr. Regale."

Sigmund leaned back in his chair and laughed. "I've got to hand it to Emily," he said. "She certainly is leaving no stone unturned. But honestly, Lady Rochelle, I have no information myself. One of my collaborators did, but he died before he could tell me what he knew."

"That is unfortunate," Lady Rochelle said, shaking her head. "However, if you do happen to recall anything, please let me know. I may be a mere woman, but I am loyal to my friends." She smiled at Sigmund, and extended her hand to him.

"Well, in the unlikely event that this happens, I'll take you up on that offer, my lady," he replied, as they shook hands. As she began to leave his cell, she suddenly turned back.

"Oh, I almost forgot – Emily asked me to pass this on to you," she said with a slight frown, handing him a large bottle. "She told me you were fond of it."

"Ah, my lady, you look at me disapprovingly – but there are few alive – man, woman or child – who can resist my wife's cider," Sigmund replied, uncorking the bottle and sniffing it appreciatively. "Good day, my lady."

"Good day to you, Mr. Regale," Lady Rochelle said. "I shall keep you in my prayers."

xxx

"Sacrifice?" Queen Carranya said, looking steadily at the Emperor. "What do you speak of?"

"Look at me, Your Majesty," Charlemagne said pleasantly, rising from his throne and walking slowly towards her. "As far as the world is concerned, I am a dying man, whose recovery is but a false dawn. Look at me, and realize that the world is populated by fools. It is glorious – a power beyond one's imagination, Your Majesty. A power beyond the Pool which your feeble Infinity gives his weak-kneed followers."

"Your Highness," Carranya replied, shaking her head, "there is no power greater than that of the Infinity. Even if some of his followers are corrupted, it is because he has given them freedom to serve or to rebel."

"Ah, you are young," Charlemagne said indulgently. "And your bravado makes me suspect that the loss of your child has already pushed you into the abyss of madness – only a madwoman would speak so confidently when all her hopes have been shattered. Heigel, open the jar."

Heigel, more dead than alive, opened the jar and handed it to Charlemagne. As he peered curiously into it, Ryan quietly drew his short sword, and the jar exploded into a mist of green smoke. Charlemagne winced – then looked up with a surprised smile. His face, to Carranya's horror, seemed to be reforming before her eyes, the angry red burns caused by the smoke slowly healing as if new skin was being laid on them, like wallpaper on a wall.

"There is no need to be in such a hurry, guard," Charlemagne said in a jesting tone. "I know I asked you to destroy it, but…" He paused, and looked at the remnants of the jar, his smile suddenly turning into a scowl.

"Heigel," he said softly, "what is the meaning of this?"

Heigel fell at the Emperor's knees in supplication. "Your Highness, forgive me," he pleaded. "It was that man! Him! He's a demon!" Raising his hand, he pointed his finger frantically at Ryan.

"The guard?" Charlemagne's voice was contemptuous. "He is a pawn, not a demon."

"And that's where you're wrong," Ryan said firmly, drawing his sword and thrusting forward at Heigel, who fell flat on his face, a bleeding wound in his left side. "Whoever you are, I'm taking you down."

Charlemagne raised his sceptre, and Ryan found himself pushed back against the wall, though he managed to remain standing with great effort. "Correction, dog," Charlemagne replied. "This is most interesting. Who are you, and who bribed you to betray me?"

"I take bribes from no man," Ryan said proudly. "I serve Galvenia and my Queen."

Charlemagne shook his head. "Impossible," he said. "The – the son of Aramondrius? You?"

"You're cleverer than I thought," Ryan said, casting aside the Zion armour he had temporarily assumed. "Now, what's all this raving about a sacrifice?"

With an effort, Charlemagne regained his composure. "Ah, it is a most interesting ritual, my Journeyman friend," he replied, taking several steps backwards. "You see, the Master promised me that I would reign forever over our two nations – and avenge the humiliation of my noble ancestor, Johan the Great, at the hands of you Galvenian dogs. Not just you, but the whole of Terra – every nation that dares to oppose the might of the Zion. We have already destroyed the Varald and the fools of Fulton, and Itaria is an empty shell. Only your nation remains."

"And we shall remain," Carranya replied. "Whatever you may have planned, Your Highness, you have failed."

"Failed? I, fail because a weak-willed doctor was afraid of a Galvenian stripling with a sword? Listen to me, Queen Carranya. My Master will receive his sacrifice. The Queen – the Prince Consort – and your child and heir. The last man, woman, and child of the Lionheart dynasty. With these offered to Him, I will live forever."

"You're mad," Ryan said calmly. "No man can live forever. That's a pipe dream."

"Is that so, my friend?" Charlemagne said contemptuously. "Maximillian, enlighten him."

"At the new moon," Pontiff Maximillian said nervously, "when the last of the House of Lionheart is assembled before the Emperor, he shall destroy their succession. The…..false leader, her consort, and the false prophet…..shall be no more. That is…..the prophecy."

"You, a man of God, say such things?" Carranya said severely.

"Ah, Your Majesty, but what is God?" Charlemagne shot back. "The feeble old deity of in the Itarian churches, who allows his precious creation to be devastated by plague and war? Or the God who grants power, glory and immortality to those who serve him at all costs? Come, Queen Carranya, I will make you an offer. Give me the child's life, and you can reign as my vassal. Perhaps you, too, will be rewarded by Him."

"Your God is a false one," Carranya retorted. "I will never serve you."

"Then allow me to do what Heigel failed to do," Charlemagne said fiercely. Pointing his sceptre at the Queen's abdomen, he closed his eyes, but as a red beam shot forth from it, Ryan flung himself in its path, and it was deflected to all points of the compass. A stray beam struck Maximillian, who began to twitch and fell to one knee.

Pain shot through Ryan like the stings of a thousand sharp, hot needles, but he forced himself to remain upright.

For Carranya. For our child.

Drawing his sword, he slashed at Charlemagne, opening up a large wound on his neck. Blood spurted forth from it for a split second – and then, just as had happened with the burns, the wound began to close itself.

"Attack me as much as you want, boy," Charlemagne said between clenched teeth. "Your rage, your despair, only feeds my Master's purpose. See for yourself that I do not lie. Marksmith, why do you remain silent? Do you not care for your succession? Shall I dispatch you first, and then take care of your scion?"

"That was not what you told me!" the Duke said frantically. "You told me that I could go free, if I left them both to you…."

"You miserable coward!" Ryan screamed. With a quick movement, though his arm continued to sting with pain, he swung his sword at the Duke, who collapsed to the ground, blood running down his face. "Is that all she means to you?"

"Ryan, no!" Carranya cried out.

Ryan forced himself to stand upright. "Come, Charlemagne," he said. "If you must strike a deal with the father of the Queen's child, at least speak to the right person," he said, spitting out the words. "Face me."

Charlemagne's eyes widened in horror.

"She – she lied to me!" he exclaimed. "She assured me…."

I now serve you, Ryan Aramondrius, not him, the woman's voice said. Kill the Duke. He does not deserve to live. You can have the same powers as Charlemagne if you obey my words.

Ryan looked at the terrified, confused Duke, then at Carranya's grave, beautiful face. Time stood still as he looked around him – at the Emperor's dismay, at Lugner's cold contempt, at Maximillian's agony. Finally, he shook his head. "Now I see what Lord Geraud meant," he said. "Depart from me, woman, you and your sword." Taking his short sword, he hurled it at Charlemagne's feet, where it lay still. "You will tempt me no longer. Take it, Charlemagne. I have no use for it."

"Then it is to be a fight to the death, Journeyman," Charlemagne said angrily, picking up the sword. "I will sacrifice you and your child instead of the Duke, and my Master will reward me."

"Carranya, stay down!" Ryan said, pushing her out of the way as Charlemagne lunged forward with the sword. Moving in closer, he parried the Emperor's second blow, but the Emperor feinted to the right, and then ran his sword through the unfortunate Duke of Marksmith.

"My lord!" Carranya said with horror. As he withdrew his sword, the Emperor's entire appearance began to change. The silver fell away from his hair, the lines on his face receded, and he began to resemble his late heir, the unfortunate Prince Wilhelm.

"You cannot stop me now, Journeyman," Charlemagne said, parrying Ryan's blow. "For this, I have sacrificed everything. My son, Koketsu, the men you killed at Koroth. You have served me well, Journeyman, when you unleashed that plague. You are a worthy son of Kaleb and Samath, who also coveted her power."

"I –" Ryan stared at him in horror, realizing the full import of the Emperor's words. The momentary hesitation was enough, and Charlemagne thrust at him with all his might. The blade pierced his side, and he fell to his knees, making desperate attempts to shield the Princess, who was leaning against the wall.

Charlemagne laughed. "I ought to kill you now, Journeyman, but I think I will let you live, at least until I kill the child," he said. "But perhaps I can amuse myself a little. Lugner, do what you must!"

Jacob Lugner advanced on the Princess, his sword drawn. Ryan reached for his sword, which had been knocked out of his hands by the force of Charlemagne's last blow, but it was too far away.

"I'm sorry, boy," Lugner said. "Console yourself with the fact that men cannot wrestle with the gods."

Before he could say anything more, Ryan's arm suddenly moved upwards, and there was a deafening explosion as a grenade struck the vault of the room. Rubble fell all around the room, and the red glow was obscured for several long minutes by clouds of dust and smoke.

Carranya closed her eyes.

If I must die, she thought, crawling closer to Ryan, let me die near him. Holding him. Ryan, I will not leave you.

Then the glow reappeared, and she saw to her amazement that Ryan – despite his wound – was standing, facing the Emperor. Lugner lay buried under several large stones, a large wound over his head.

"There's more to the battle than just the fight, Charlemagne," Ryan said, a defiant smile on his face. "The Colonel taught me to always remember that. Your lackey is gone."

"Foolish boy, you are dying yourself," Charlemagne said. "Even if you attack me, I shall simply be healed by the Master."

"I refuse to believe that," Ryan said, as his sword crossed Charlemagne's. "Now defend yourself!"

The two men fought fiercely, but every time Ryan thought he was landing a decisive blow, he felt as if it was being deflected by an invisible coat of armour.

"We can do this until you are weary," Charlemagne said. "Unlike me, you cannot live forever. Even if it takes days, months, or years, only one of us can leave here alive."

There must be a way, Ryan thought, as he parried the Emperor's blow and pushed him back. But how?

Lord Geraud.

That's it! Slashing rapidly in several directions, he traced two diagonal lines crossing each other over the Emperor's armour, noting the terror on Charlemagne's face.

"What – what is this?" he stammered.

"Your ancestor had some valuable advice for me," Ryan said calmly. Whirling his blade around until it had described a small circle, he put all his strength into one last thrust, and the blade sank deep into the Emperor's ribs. He collapsed to the ground, his eyes closing as he fell.

"The Chiasmus of Geraud," Ryan said, withdrawing the long sword. "I ought to have realized it sooner."

"You….cannot triumph….boy…" Charlemagne gasped, clawing at the stone pavement beneath him. "Even if it takes aeons for me to heal…..I can heal….The Consort will heal me."

"Ryan…."

He whirled around sharply. It was Lugner who had spoken – though his voice was little more than a faint whisper.

"Ryan….you must leave….you and Carranya….but she must finish him first…"

"No!" Charlemagne screamed. "Lugner, you traitor! Do not tell him!"

"Ryan….forgive me…..always envied you…..unlike Jason….Jason was the happy one," Jacob Lugner gasped, drawing long, painful breaths. "Don't….let me die in vain, Ryan…..destroy the Consort…."

"The Consort? Who is she?" Ryan said urgently.

There was a faint gurgle in Lugner's throat, and he lay still.

"Ryan," Carranya said faintly, as she rushed towards him, her hands going to the wound in his side. "Oh, Ryan…"

"Lugner….He said you had to finish him, Carrie," Ryan said, holding on to her, as he felt the bleeding cease. "But….how?"

Remember the Commonwealth, Ryan, the old man's voice said. Hatred breeds more hatred. Someone has to break the circle.

"Break the circle?" Ryan shook his head. "But how?"

"I heard him too, Ryan," Carranya said suddenly, and suddenly, a serene smile appeared on her face. "And I think I understand."

Walking steadily up to Charlemagne, she placed her hands over his head.

"What are you doing?" Ryan said, eyes wide with horror.

"Emperor Charlemagne," Carranya said softly, "I shall heal you."

Charlemagne screamed – a loud, unearthly shriek that Ryan would never forget, not until the day he died. "No! No! The Master will never forgive me….."

"I do," Carranya replied, a tear running down her cheek. "Why seek damnation, Emperor Charlemagne? Be healed."

A flash of white light surrounded the Emperor, and when it ebbed away, Charlemagne was once more a frail old man, his face covered with lines of pain.

"There is always time to do the right thing," she said gently.

"Curse you!" Charlemagne muttered feebly. "You have cursed me to live in this decrepit, deceased body, abandoned by my Master! What more do I have?"

Maximillian, who had watched this entire scene in silence, suddenly rose to his feet and moved forward. Closing his eyes, he stood over Charlemagne's prone form and prayed fervently. After a few moments, he shook his head.

"He will live," he said, "and may the Infinity forgive me my many sins. But Lugner was right. We must find and destroy the Consort, or he will never know peace. Come, children, allow me to lead the way."

"You?" Ryan said suspiciously.

"Ryan, trust him," Carranya said, leaning on his arm for support, and placing her hands over his side. As his own pain ebbed away, he looked at the remorse-filled countenance of the Zion priest, and nodded.

"Very well," he said. "How do we get out of here?"

Maximillian pushed the Emperor's chair down to the ground angrily, revealing a dark tunnel much like the one through which they had entered the room. "This is the Portal that leads out of here, and it leads back to Galvenia, where the Consort lives. Make haste, my children, for the Portal will soon close, now that Charlemagne no longer enjoys that demon's favours."

"And what about you?" Carranya said kindly. "Come with us."

"Carrie," Ryan said exasperatedly, "don't be absurd…"

"Please, Ryan," Carranya replied. "He has helped us, and we owe him something in return."

"Very well," Ryan said briefly. Taking hold of Carranya's hand, they descended into the Portal….

xxx

"Quickly!" Commodore Reckland said, anger and fear rising in his voice. "We may be too late! To Davenport Woods!"

"What's going on?" Lieutenant Huntington said, getting up from behind the recruitment desk.

"We've just received an emergency message from Lorean," Reckland replied, with uncharacteristic alarm. "Sigmund Regale has been poisoned, just hours before he was going to give important information to the Interior Minister, and we've received a tip-off that they may be after his wife and daughter!"

"Why not send the police?" Huntington said calmly.

"Damn it, Peter, we're soldiers!" Reckland replied. "We can't let innocent folks be harmed in this way. That's why you and I signed up in the first place. Besides, Fairfax has specifically asked us to look for her."

"Us?" Peter sprang up, and buckled his gun-belt. "Now you're talking. Where are they?"

"I just checked her home," Reckland blurted out, "but the maid said they'd gone to Davenport Woods for a walk. Come on, let's hustle!"

Barely a few minutes later, the two of them, along with three other men, were combing every inch of Davenport Woods. They looked in every nook and cranny, but there was no trace of them.

"Check Davenport Peak," Reckland said, his voice betraying his agitation. "They must be somewhere!"

But though the soldiers – including Reckland himself – searched the heights of the hill, they were nowhere to be found.

xxx

"Where are we?" Carranya said, opening her eyes and shaking her head. After a long trek through the tunnel, they found themselves falling freely, though everything around them was dark until they gently struck solid ground. They did not know how much time they had spent within the Portal, though it had seemed an eternity to them.

Ryan scanned their surroundings quickly. "I'd say we're just outside the Royal Gardens at Lorean," he said. "How on Terra did we get there?"

"Portals are repulsive things, my son," Maximillian replied.

Suddenly, they were aware of ten men approaching them rapidly, wearing grey uniforms.

"Who are these men?" Maximillian said with alarm.

"Let me handle this," Ryan said firmly. "At ease, men. Commander Ryan Eramond of the Rough Riders. We need your help transporting the Queen back to Lorean."

"Commander Eramond?" The leader of the small troop smiled at him. "We will certainly help in transporting you – directly to hell, and to the Consort." He drew his pistol.

Quickly, Ryan struck the man with the hilt of his sword, stunning him. "Run!" he said, as he saw even more men approaching. "We can't fight that many of them!"

"But where?" Carranya replied breathlessly.

"No time to think, Carrie," Ryan said. Taking hold of Carranya, he led her as fast as his feet could carry him past the arches of the Royal Gardens, and into the hedges themselves, when she stumbled.

"Ryan!" she cried. "I – I think I've…."

"Never mind," Ryan said, lifting her up into his arms and looking straight ahead.

"They're gaining on us!" Maximillian said with alarm.

"Don't worry, I have an idea," Ryan said. "By Lord Geraud, I never thought playing fetch in that maze would turn out to be so useful."

Still carrying the Queen, Ryan – followed by Maximillian – rushed headlong into the labyrinth at the centre of the gardens. Making for the secluded area in the centre, he crouched down and waited.

"They'll be forced to break up and hunt for us," Ryan said calmly. "We'll take down as many of them as we have to, then head for the Palace, if we can make it that far."

"Wait, Ryan," Carranya replied. "There may be another way. My mother's companion, Lady Rochelle, has a small house very near the Gardens. She'll be at the palace, but her servants will surely let us stay there, and we can send word to Mother or to the Prime Minister there."

"Brilliant," Ryan replied. Three men approached, and he raised his sword, knocking them to the ground with a beam of green light.

"Let me help you, Ryan!" Carranya said with determination. "For the three of us." She raised her hands, and two more men were stunned by a ball of light. Lifting her up again, Ryan made a bee-line for the exit, and then – in a final desperate burst of speed – made his way to the house Carranya indicated.

With trembling hands, she knocked on the door. An elderly woman with a mild face opened the door, then stepped back.

"Your Majesty!" she said. "What are you doing here?"

"We're being pursued, Jane," Carranya said simply. "This is Commander Eramond of the Rough Riders, who rescued me. Can we stay here?"

"Why, of course!" she replied. "Her ladyship's in at the moment, with some new friends of hers! She'll be so pleased to see you! Just wait here while I fetch her."

As they waited in the vestibule, there was a knock on the door. Carranya turned pale, and clung to Ryan's arm, while he smiled at her, trying to seem calm at least outwardly.

"Her ladyship?" they heard Jane say. "She's with some guests in the tea-room? Their name? Regale? Why, yes, I do believe that was their name. You say they're in trouble? Oh dear. Oh dear. Let me check with the mistress, Officer."

Regale? Ryan thought, puzzled.

There was a sound of footsteps, and then the housekeeper returned, smiling.

"Please come in, Your Majesty," she said. "You and your friends are always welcome here." She moved swiftly past them to the door. "Do come in, Officer. I'm sure it's a false alarm."

Bemused, Ryan, Carranya and Maximillian entered the drawing room. Lady Rochelle Anton was seated at table, sipping a cup of tea, and next to her were Emily and Lavie.

"Carranya!" Lady Anton said with alarm. "My poor child, what happened to you?"

Carranya smiled. "It's a long story, Rochelle," she said.

"You must tell me all about it," she clucked. "Oh, thank the Infinity that you're saved."

"Ryan?" Lavie said incredulously.

"The feeling is mutual, Lavie," Ryan said, shaking his head. "What are you doing here?"

"It's a long story too," Lavie replied awkwardly. "Daddy's fallen ill, and Lady Rochelle's trying to help him get released from prison."

"Is he in prison again?" Ryan said incredulously – then stopped, noting Lavie's angry expression. "Sorry, Lavie, I've been away for a while."

Ignoring him, Lavie curtseyed before the Queen. "It's an honour to meet you, Your Majesty," she said. "Are you all right?"

"Miss Lavender!"

Commodore Reckland, accompanied by two of his men, had entered the room.

"Good heavens!" Lady Rochelle exclaimed. "Just what is going on here?"

"Miss Lavender, are you all right?" Reckland stammered. "We received a warning from the Palace that you might be in danger."

Lavie flushed. "In danger, Commodore Reckland?" she said softly.

"Let me tell you a little story," Reckland said, looking at her with a gentle expression. "Miss Lavender, before he fell ill, your father was able to pass some important information on to us, through a friend of his."

"You've met Daddy?" Lavie said anxiously. "Is he all right?"

"The doctors are doing their best," Reckland replied. "However, there is something far more serious. According to your father, before his imprisonment, he had left important information, in the form of a document, with you – information about a woman who was involved in treason, or even in the Queen's disappearance."

"I know what you mean," Carranya said with a shudder. "He – the man who had me abducted – mentioned her."

"A code name of some sort, Your Majesty," Reckland said, kneeling before her in embarrassment, and realizing that his concern for Lavie had led him to ignore her presence entirely. "Miss Lavender, do you know anything about this?"

Lavie looked at Reckland sadly and shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't know anything about that, Commodore."

"Lavie," Ryan said gently, "if you know something, please tell us. This is very important. It could mean everything to our country. Our Queen was nearly killed thanks to this person." And our child, he barely kept himself from adding.

The red made its way into Lavie's cheeks again, but she drew her lips together tightly. "Sorry, Ryan," she said. "I've told you, I don't know anything."

"Miss Regale," Queen Carranya said, "could you make an effort?"

Suddenly, Lavie sprang up from her chair, and pointed an accusing finger at Ryan. "You've got some nerve coming in here, buster," she screamed. "Where were you when Daddy was ill? Do you know how terrible it's been for us, these past two years? Do you even care? You just strut in here in your fancy uniform, thinking that you're some kind of hero? You have no heart, Ryan. You're a stuffed shirt! No, worse, you're just a big, ugly old scarecrow, and I hate you! As for you, Commodore, you ought to be ashamed to be in the same army as a jerk like him!"

"Lavie!" Emily exclaimed, shocked by her vehemence.

"Please, Commodore Reckland, just take us home," she pleaded, her outburst at an end. "I don't feel well at all."

"Are you sure you don't want to stay a little longer, Miss Regale?" Lady Anton said, looking dismayed at the scene playing out in her comfortable drawing-room. "You're overwrought."

"Thank you, Lady Anton," Lavie said stiffly, "but I want to go home."

"Really, Lavie!" Emily protested. "Compose yourself."

It was now Ryan's turn to do something surprising. Shaking his head as if amused, he smiled. "Take her home, Commodore," he said. "As a matter of fact, take us all home. The Queen can stay at the Mayor's house in Davenport, where she'll be safe until we can inform her mother and the Prime Minister. I assume you have conveyance of some sort. Do not ask me questions, for I know what I am doing."

Mystified, Reckland nodded, while Lavie looked at the ground, embarrassed.

"Ryan, is that wise?" Carranya said softly.

"Trust me, C – Your Majesty," he said firmly. "I know what I'm doing."

"Very well, then," Reckland replied. "We had brought two carriages with us anyway. Some of my men can remain here to guard your house, Lady Anton – now that you've heard what I've said, you may not be safe either. The Queen can travel in one carriage, and the Regales with me in another."

"You're too kind," Rochelle said with a smile.

"Perfect," Ryan said. "Come, Maximillian, let's go."

"Who's he?" Reckland asked suspiciously.

"Oh, a Zionese who helped us," Ryan replied. "Call him a refugee."

In a few moments, they were all on their way back to Davenport. Carranya looked at Ryan, as confused as the Commodore had been.

"Why was your friend so angry with you, Ryan?" she said gently.

"Lavie," Ryan replied, still grinning, "is a very intelligent girl. In fact, I do believe I've underestimated her."

"What do you mean, Ryan?" Carranya whispered.

"Wait and see, Carrie," Ryan said grimly. "This isn't over yet."

xxx

Ryan stood outside Anne Lancaster's cottage, shaking his head. The sun was setting over the patches of vegetables that Anne had once planted herself, but the sight brought him no joy.

Now I know, he said. But how do I proceed? You knew too, didn't you, Mrs. Lancaster? You tried to warn me about the part I would play, but I didn't understand.

"Commander Eramond!" Reckland said suddenly. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"So you've figured it out, too," Ryan said wearily. "Here, have a look."

He drew three sheets of paper from within his armour – the three sheets he had found hidden within the torso of Frumple the Scarecrow, the comic mannequin in Anne's garden that he and Lavie had often played with in a younger, more innocent time. The memory caused him a pang, but he drove it away.

That world is over, he thought. My future, my destiny, is with Carrie – and with the life that now belongs to both of us.

Reckland perused the sheets quickly, then whistled as he handed them back. "If you don't mind my saying so, Commander, that young woman's presence of mind is remarkable."

"Oh, Lavie has many good qualities, if you ignore her cooking and her temper," Ryan replied.

"I'll have to agree with you on that," Reckland replied, sounding embarrassed. "She's one of a kind."

Ryan stared at Reckland for a moment, opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "Did I just hear that correctly, Commodore?" he said softly.

"I have nothing to hide, Commander," Reckland said, shaking his head sadly. "I suppose there's no fool like a middle-aged fool who dreams he could be young again."

Ryan placed his hand over Reckland's, and the expression in his eyes was surprisingly gentle. Reckland found it hard to imagine that this was the same man who, just ten days earlier, had butchered the men of Zion in their own dockyard.

"Look here, Reckland," he said. "Believe me when I say this: I know how you feel right now. No, don't call me impertinent, or a young whippersnapper, though I can see you're dying to do so. If you think I'm a rival, please disillusion yourself. Lavie and I are childhood friends. That's all there is to it. It's not in my power to promise her anything else. If you believe that you can make her happy, I urge you to do so, for the sake of our old friendship. I'm not the boy Lavie remembers – that boy is dead. Stand by her, Reckland. You never know what rewards loyalty might fetch you."

"What are you, an agony aunt?" Reckland replied, half amused, half annoyed by the other's sermon.

"Very amusing, Commodore," Ryan said. "Come, let's leave this place. We have to strike soon, before a certain person realizes what we already have."

"A capital idea," Reckland replied. "Eramond – do you really think…" He left the question hanging in the air, afraid to complete it.

The words he had spoken to Carranya when all seemed lost came to Ryan's mind, and he smiled. "Yes, I do," he replied. "You have to try. I believe you can. Have a little faith, Commodore."

xxx

The news of the Queen's rescue – which was followed by mysterious rumours, which the Zion failed to deny, that the Emperor had sickened again and the Anti-Pontiff had gone missing – was a nine days' wonder in Galvenia, as the autumn slowly faded into winter. Though the details of her capture and return were eagerly discussed about in army mess halls, student cafeterias and local pubs, Lorean Castle maintained a tight-lipped silence, even as she was triumphantly brought from Davenport to her royal home. The Queen Mother, whose health had taken a turn for the worse ever since her daughter's loss, was reported to be better.

Only a handful of men knew the truth behind Carranya's disappearance and reappearance. That evening, as the sun set over the Palace gardens, they were gathered in the Queen's own apartments, along with Katarina and Lady Rochelle. The cold had begun to set in, and a few drops of rain fell lightly against the windows of her tower.

"We are only grateful," Prime Minister Sheffield said, as he entered the room and saluted the Queen's own guards, "that it has all ended this way. From what you told us, Eramond, it was touch and go."

"Indeed, Sir," Ryan replied. He was sitting opposite Carranya, who was at her mother's bedside, but he now turned to face them all – Sir Cornelius, Lady Anton, Sarah Socius, the Prime Minister, General Freeman, Maximillian, Sir Dermot Chuselwock, and the Duchess of Marksmith – the last two in mourning for their respective sons. "But we have a strange story to tell, and I think Sir Cornelius is eager to tell it to you."

"Thank you, Commander Eramond," Sir Cornelius replied. "Ladies and gentlemen, and Your Majesty, this story began for me over two years ago, when my unfortunate and much lamented friend, Martell Socius – I thank his wife for being with us today, at my express request – met me and discussed his suspicions that we had a traitor in our ranks, in the Palace itself. At that time, only four of us were privy to this discussion: Socius, Trask, Sir Prescott, and I." He bowed slightly towards Sir Dermot. "It is perhaps tragic that the three brave souls I have just mentioned are either dead or crippled, and that only I should remain. However, I owe it to their memory to tell the truth."

"Hmm," Sir Dermot said. "Are you saying it was by design that my son, and the other men, died?"

"Sir Prescott's death may have been fortuitous, Your Lordship, but it was certainly willed. Our suspicions put us on the trail of our own colleague, Thomssen, but lacking evidence, we could not proceed against him. Conclusive evidence of his treason was found only when one of my men found a series of cryptic codes in Talmadge's mansion, and my brother-in-law was able to decipher them. Yet the messages brought further confusion, as it was clear that Thomssen himself was a willing accomplice of two others. They were not named, but one was Galvenian, the other Zionese. We now know that the Zion culprit was none other than Emperor Charlemage, who dreamed of ruling not only Arlia, but the whole of Terra. Our friend Maximillian's testimony corroborates this, and we have the eyewitness accounts of the Queen and Eramond as well."

"May God find the mercy to forgive me," Maximillian replied. He wore the coarse brown robe of an Itarian monk, his head was bowed, and his scalp was tonsured. "A lifetime of penance cannot atone for the things I have done at Charlemagne's request."

"Take comfort in the fact that you have helped us," Sir Cornelius replied. "It is thanks to you that our Queen, and her heir, are safe with us." He smiled at Carranya, who smiled back at them both. "However, there remained the question of the Galvenian. We racked our brains, and tried to analyze the code again, but we had only conjectures until Sir Prescott died and confided a particular detail to Eramond. Perhaps you could tell us what that is, Ryan."

"With pleasure, Sir," Ryan said calmly. "Before he died, Sir Prescott told me that I had to be on my guard against a certain person, and protect the Princess from her. That meant it had to be someone in the Princess' entourage – and, in the light of a couple of strange experiences I'd had myself, that made a lot of sense. But he did more than that. He told me that the Duke of Marksmith's mother was the one."

The Duchess turned pale, and shot an angry look at Ryan. "That is a vile lie," she said. "Sir Prescott was merely indulging an old grudge, because I kept him from making – an imprudent alliance in his youth. It was wicked of him to accuse me in that way."

"That's what Carranya told me, as well," Ryan said, "and I thought Sir Prescott was simply being spiteful, until I realized that a legal parent and a biological parent are two entirely different things."

There was a clatter, as one of the empty cups by the Queen's bedside fell to the ground. Lady Rochelle, moving forward quickly, picked it up.

"What are you speaking of, Commander?" Sarah Socius said sharply.

"What if," Ryan said, looking at every man and woman in the room with a questioning glance, "the Duchess was not the Duke's real mother? Such things are not unheard of. For example, King Arlbert the First was the illegitimate son of Lady Penelope Gerius and Prince Derren, but King Richard Lionheart adopted him as his heir to preserve the dynasty. What a King does, his nobles imitate. Your Ladyship, was Joseph, Duke of Marksmith, your real son?"

The Duchess began to weep. "Harold and I – dearly wished for children, but we never could have any," she said softly. "When we resigned ourselves to this, we decided to adopt a young boy, through the good graces of friends of ours. They told us he was the son of an impoverished knight, and came of good stock. Joseph…my son…"

Sarah Socius offered the Duchess a handkerchief, and Lady Anton made sympathetic noises as Ryan went on.

"Now, the Duchess may have believed that story – she is certainly not culpable, and the Queen agrees with me on that – but those friends of hers may have lied to her. I submit to you, Your Ladyship, that one of those friends was Eugene Thomssen. Sir Cornelius has the documents to prove it."

"Yes," the Duchess said indignantly. "What of it? It is vulgar on your part to pry into our personal lives."

"I apologize, Your Ladyship," Ryan replied, "but it was necessary for us to know. Very well, then. We were looking for someone close to Queen Carranya – otherwise, why should Prescott warn me on her? Someone close to Eugene Thomssen – perhaps the child's own mother, or merely another interested party. Someone" – he stood up, and began to walk around the room calmly – "who could possibly engineer the deaths of Socius and Prescott – both of whom died, not of their wounds, but in hospital after an apparent recovery. I have post-mortem reports from Doctor Sherman at the Royal Hospital, and it confirmed what Sir Cornelius and I both suspected. Both Socius and Prescott had been poisoned. The same person arranged for me to meet Carranya twice, under mysterious circumstances – perhaps hoping to compromise her."

Sarah Socius rose from her chair. "Commander Eramond, as Martell's wife, I demand that you tell me who is responsible," she said angrily.

"I believe you will see it yourself, once I explain a little more, Mrs. Socius," Ryan replied. "To sum up: we are looking for someone close to the Queen. Someone religious. Someone who happened to have visited both your husband and Sir Prescott in hospital."

"Are you accusing me again, Commander?" the Duchess of Marksmith said reproachfully. "I visited both those men."

"No, I am not, Your Ladyship," Ryan replied. "It is possible that the actual guilty party reasoned along the same lines as I did, and planned to use you as a scapegoat. You are not the only noblewoman who visits hospitals – and prisons – as a good work."

The Duchess' eyes widened in shock, and she turned to look at the Queen, and the women seated beside her.

"You see it, don't you, Your Ladyship?" Sir Cornelius said quietly. "Only one person fits that description – and thanks to the quick wit of Sigmund Regale's daughter, we now have documentary proof of this."

"Mother?" Carranya stood up, shaking her head in dismay. "Mother would never do anything like that."

"Oh, no, Your Majesty," Sir Cornelius said. "Not your mother."

"Then who?" Carranya said, in an unsteady voice.

Ryan walked up to her. "It's a hard fact, Carrie, but you've got to face it," he said. "The snake in the grass was none other than your faithful friend and companion, the one who quietly delivered you into danger and then befriended you, knowing that you would never suspect her. Lady Rochelle Anton."

"Rochelle?" Carranya cried out. "No – I can't believe it!"

Lady Rochelle stood up. Despite her slight form, her face wore an expression of the utmost dignity. "Do you have any proof of these ridiculous accusations, Mr. Eramond?" she said cuttingly.

Ryan reached into his pocket. "I have here," he said, "from the hand of Erasmus of Alton, a record of the birth of a child to you and an unknown father – though a small marginal note says it was Harold, Duke of Marksmith. This child's birthday coincides with Duke Joseph's. As for why you did it, it is simple. If Carranya were to perish, or be of unsound mind, the Duke would rule in her stead: as her husband, and as a Marksmith, a collateral descendant of the Lionhearts. You wanted your son to rule – and for that, you were ready to break Carranya's spirit, sell out your nation, traffic with demons, and betray us to the Zion and the War Hawks. It is a pity that Charlemagne, realizing that his plans had come to naught, chose to vent his spleen on your son. May he rest in peace."

"You were Joseph's mother?" the Duchess said angrily.

"You killed my husband?" Sarah Socius said, outraged and weeping.

"My son," Sir Dermot said implacably. "My son's blood shall be avenged."

Lady Rochelle smiled – a small, twisted smile. "So what will you do about it? Kill me? Your soldier and your spymaster speak the truth, curse them. But my death will solve nothing."

"I know that," Ryan replied, a smile on his own lips. "We learned that lesson when we faced your friend Charlemagne, and we will apply it on his charming Consort. If we killed you, we would merely strengthen the curse that bound you to each other, and he would probably recover from his illness – for a while. But as Lord Geraud said, we must break the circle."

"I understand," Carranya said sadly. "Rochelle, the only power you have over us is the power of hatred. If we do not kill you, but merely detain you and allow you to live out your life, that power will fade away. You and Charlemagne will both grow old and die, as all men must, and the remorse you will come to feel will be worse than any punishment we could ever inflict."

"You will not do that, Carranya," Lady Rochelle said contemptuously. "One day, you will remember all that you have suffered, and you and Ryan will kill me. On that day, the power of my Master and his handmaid will be unleashed."

"Rochelle," the Queen Mother said softly, in the silence that followed, "how could you?"

Carranya raised her hand. "If you wish, Rochelle, I can heal you as I healed Charlemagne. I know you are not ill, but perhaps the gift of light can enlighten the soul as well as the body."

Rochelle glared at Carranya, her face contorted with hatred. "Thank you, Your Majesty," she said hoarsely, "but that will not be necessary. I can take care of myself. Enjoy the fool's paradise that you have created. I shall be vindicated."

Before any of them could react, she had flung open the door and fled.

"Stop her!" Prime Minister Sheffield said frantically. "Fairfax, you dunderhead, why did you not place guards there?"

"You don't understand, Alan," Sir Cornelius replied. "She cannot escape."

xxx

You failed me.

"Yes, Master," Rochelle said submissively. "It was not my fault – the Emperor was impatient and selfish."

You failed me. I do not wish to hear any excuses.

"I humbly beg for your forgiveness, Master," Rochelle said. "I know that you will grant me vengeance over my enemies, even now."

A laugh, harsh and cruel, echoed through Lady Anton's boudoir.

Forgiveness? I cannot give what is not mine to give, woman. Unforgiven myself, how can I forgive?

"But, Master," Rochelle pleaded, "when I joined Carranya and the Eramond boy, you were pleased! You commended me! You said I had done something wonderful for you! Why do you now reject me?"

Ah, woman, have you not realized by now that I lied? That I always will lie? You are my worthy disciple. Come and join me.

The walls of the room suddenly began to glow red.

"Master!" Rochelle wailed. "Please, save me! Do not let me be the laughing-stock of Carranya and the Eramond swine! I could never bear it!"

Did you not say you would bear anything for me, woman? Obey me one last time. Take your little bottle and drink of it.

Rochelle stepped back from the mirror. "Do you desire me as a sacrifice, Master?"

Let us just say that I yearn for company. You Galvenians have a proverb, do you not? Misery loves company. Come, drink to your Master.

Without hesitation, Rochelle removed the stopper from the bottle on her dressing-table – just below the mirror through which she could reach the Master – and drained it. A wave of peace came over her.

"I am coming, Master," she said, swaying and falling backwards onto her bed. The same laugh that she had heard earlier echoed in her head, and it seemed to her as if she was sinking, travelling through the bed, through solid ground, down through to the very centre of Terra.

I always lie, woman.

She saw herself surrounded by the redness on all sides. She could not escape it – it burned at her body and soul, licking at her clothing without burning it. She felt the pain gnaw away at her insides, like a hunger that would never be satisfied.

"Master!" she cried out, despairingly.

Memories of every moment in her life flooded her mind, filling her eyes with tears. The faces of Katarina, of Carranya, of Martell Socius, of Sir Prescott, of Sigmund Regale – and worse, of her son – flashed before her accusingly. She could not move. She could not speak. She was alone.

Forever.

xxx