"Saints, yes," Artwair said.

"They would have killed all of us," she pointed out.

"Auy." His face was as if cast in iron.

"I don't want to be cruel," she finally said. It seemed the thing to say. "Do you really think letting them go is the right thing? Or is this just sentiment talking?"

"Majesty, for me this morning was all confusion. But the Hansan survivors speak of the sun blotting out, of blood and serpents raining from the sky. They saw their comrades' steaming entrails writhe out of their bellies like boiling eels. I think that story from a thousand lips will be more valuable than their deaths."

"Very well," she sighed. "See to it, then. And now that we're done here, I should like Copenwis back."

"That shouldn't be a problem now," Artwair said. "Will Your Majesty be accompanying us?"

"No," she said. "I think you might do this with the army, Artwair. I should like to return to Eslen for a time. But rest assured that when we march on Hansa, I will be with you."

"March on Hansa, Majesty?"

"I don't see any reason to let them try this again, ever. Do you?"

"I-no, Majesty,"

"Right. Tell my bodyguard I'll ride to Eslen in two bells. And send word to Cape Chavel that I want him to join me there when he's done with the army coming down the Dew."

"There's still the army of the Church in the south," Artwair said.

"They have already withdrawn," Anne said. "I'm not sure why. But send a few of the Hansan captives to them. Tell them that if they cross our border again, I'll come do the same to them."

Artwair nodded, bowed, and left.

Riding to Eslen, she met cheering crowds, but in the first few leagues it seemed to her there was an uneasiness in their plaudits, as if they feared she would kill them if they did not cheer. The nearer she got to Eslen, however, and the farther she got from the charnel fields around Poelscild, the less ambiguous the applause seemed. By the time she entered the city, she felt their joy and enthusiasm as absolutely genuine. Some were shouting "Saint Queen Anne," and others were calling her "Virgenya II."

She bathed and rested and the next morning took her breakfast with John in her solar, where he rattled off various household matters and gave her a sheaf of documents for her seal. He then sat back, looking a bit uncomfortable.

"What is it, John?" she asked.

"You've received a number of letters, Majesty, some important, most not. But there is one that I believe needs your immediate attention."

"Really? Who is it from?"

"Our former praifec, Marche Hespero."

She stopped with a scone halfway to her mouth. "You're kidding," she said.

"I'm afraid not."

"Let me see it, then."

He handed her the folded paper with the seal of Crotheny's praifectur.

"Took it with him, I see," she said. Then she opened the letter. It was written in a beautiful flowing hand.

To Your Majesty Anne I, Queen of Crotheny, I hope this letter finds you well and in good keeping with the saints.

Time is pressing, so I must be blunt. I know I have been implicated in certain matters and that a general order for my arrest has been issued. I will not here argue the charges against me-I will save that for a later time. What I will tell you is that I have information you need. It concerns the power you no doubt feel growing in you, and most particularly it has to do with the emergence of a certain throne you may have heard of.

I also believe that it is important that there be peace between the Church and Crotheny, and healing. By the time you read this, you will find Church forces have all withdrawn beyond the Teremene. I await the pleasure of meeting with you personally. I am prepared to come to Eslen with as few companions as you name, or alone if that is your command.

Marche Hespero Anne fingered the page, wondering if it might be impregnated with poison. But no, John had handled it before her.

"When did this arrive?" she asked.

"Yesterday, else I would have had it sent to you."

She studied the words again, trying to figure out what was going on.

She had trusted Hespero growing up, had gone to him for lustration and advice. He had seemed wise, not particularly kind but not unkind, either. Even when her father had gone against him in naming Anne and her sisters heirs to the throne, he had remained polite and nice to her.

But then she had learned things. She had seen a letter from him that made him responsible for the unholy slaughter in Dunmrogh. He had colluded with Robert against her mother and tortured Cavaor Ackenzal, the court composwer, nearly to death. He'd left Eslen before Anne's forces had recaptured it and hadn't been seen or heard from since.

And now he wanted to talk. It didn't make sense. The Church had turned its bloody resacaratum into a holy war against her, and now suddenly Hespero wanted to be friends and help her claim the power the Church so vehemently named shinecraft?

She closed her eyes and tried to find Hespero out in the sedos realm, to see where he was and what he was about, to find some inkling of the consequences of meeting him.

But as with the Hellrune, all she found was a quiet, dark place.

And then she knew.

"It's him," she told Nerenai later that day. The Sefry was weaving a shawl, and Anne was pacing in her quarters.

"The man who attacked me in the wood of the Faiths, the one who threatens me. It was Hespero all along."

"How can you be sure?"

"He has power like me, like the Hellrune. Only someone with art like that can go within the sedos unsummoned. Who else could it be? I thought once it might be the Briar King, but from everything I've heard about him, I no longer believe so."

"What will you do? Will you see him?"

"He tried to attack me," Anne said. "I'm certain he was at least partly responsible for the murders of my sisters and father and the other attempts on me. Yes, I will see him, and I will find out what he knows, and then he will pay."

CHAPTER NINE

NEIL STARED at Brinna for a long few breaths before responding. He felt as if he were somehow outside of the world, looking in from a great distance away.

"Why would you say that?" he finally managed.

"The world is poisoned, Sir Neil," she said. "Poisoned by two thousand years of unchecked use of the sedoi. That's what ultimately made breaking the law of death possible. Were the world in better health…" She looked away. "But it wasn't. The monsters-the greffyns and such-those are all symptoms of that coming death, of a very ancient being trying to reclaim the world, but without the power to heal it. Then there is-was-the Briar King, who did have the power to restore it but who is now dead. That leaves your queen and two others to fight over the sedos power, to take it when it reaches its peak. But that power, you see, can't be used to mend anything. It can only corrupt. And in this moment coming very soon, the sedos power will be so strong that all other puissance in the world will fail before it. Life and death will cease to have meaning, as will chaos and order. It will all become the dream-the Black Mary-of the one who takes the power."

"Anne won't misuse it."

"She does so already. She drains the life from our warriors. She boils them in their skins. Soon she will do far worse. And of the three who seek the sedos throne, she is favored to win. And so my people fight and die, and I use my visions as best I can to help them. But I am too far away now, and she has become too strong. To be of any use I need to leave here, but that isn't allowed. It's never been allowed, and after my earlier escape, my father is doubly committed to the ancient way. He doesn't really understand what's going on. He twists what I tell him and tells his men that Anne is evil, that our war is just and holy."