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blessing to the quest to free the Master of the Straits. I d sat beneath it as a young man, beside a dry and
empty fountain, suspected of treason thanks to Barquiel L Envers machinations. Almost a year ago, I d
groveled at its roots, succumbing to madness. And only a few hours ago, I d knelt beneath it and prayed.
I prayed now, sick and dizzy.
A wooden dais had been erected beneath the oak. There they were: Ysandre, Drustan, and
Sidonie. Drustan s sword was in his hand. I guessed the speech had already been given, the salutes
exchanged.
Make way! Kratos called, forging a steady path through the crowd of soldiers. In the name of
Astegal of Carthage, make way!
I followed in his wake.
Far behind us was the sound of a new commotion arising.
Joscelin.
No time.
No time for fear, no time for uncertainty. No time to try to explain what I was doing. I left that to
Kratos. As we reached the oak, I draped my mount s reins over his neck, kicked my feet free of the
stirrups. I drew myself up and stood atop my saddle, swaying unsteadily. My heart thudded in my breast.
I caught the lowest limb, hauled myself atop it. Below voices rose in furious argument.
. . . sorry, your majesty, but he s had a vision, Kratos was saying, his tone stubborn. Your
men were too hasty.
I inched along the thick branch, trying to hurry. To the juncture, to the fork. There was a mossy
hollow there. I locked my ankles around the tree limb and plucked the dagger from my belt, probing.
Nothing.
The commotion grew louder. Joscelin was getting closer. I glanced down through the greening
oak leaves. I saw Sidonie below me, her face upturned and puzzled. I stabbed at the crotch of the tree,
prying away chunks of moss, chunks of bark. Bits and pieces of oak detritus fell like rain.
An arrow whizzed over my head.
No! Sidonie s voice. Hold!
Moss and bark, moss and bark. And then . . . hardened mud. A crude mortar, packed in a hole,
crumbling under the tip of my blade. I kept my head low and dug frantically. My dagger scraped against
somewhat hard. I dug harder, prying out large chunks of dried mud. I saw the silver link of a chain
glinting. I have it! I cried, sticking my dagger in my belt and yanking on the chain. It came loose as a
single piece, a dirt-encrusted emerald dangling from silver links. I have it!
The crowd below murmured in wonder.
Joscelin s voice rang out, hard and urgent. Get him down from there! Whatever he means to do
with that thing, do not let him do it!
Too late, I thought. I clutched the chain in my fist and whispered the word. Emmenghamon.
Nothing happened.
Your majesty, it s a trick, Joscelin called. The soldiers were parting for him now. He reached
the dais, breathing hard. I m sorry; Elua knows, sorrier than I ve ever been in my life.
I tried it again. Emmenghamon.
What passes here? Ysandre s voice could have frozen water.
Imriel attacked me, Joscelin said grimly. And this man s in league with him. He pointed at
Kratos. I don t know why, but they re frantic to get their hands on that gem. We ve been deceived.
Somewhat is very, very wrong here.
Joscelin, no! Phèdre s voice, horrified.
I m sorry, he said more softly.
My head pounded, sick and throbbing. I clung to the branch, clung to the chain, and tried to shut
out their voices. I was saying it wrong. I had to be. I pictured Sidonie in the hold of Deimos ship, still
disheveled from her sojourn in Bodeshmun s rug, her lips working as she sounded out the Punic word.
Emmanghamon.
Nothing.
Imriel de la Courcel. Drustan s voice, the umistakable tone of command. I glanced down to
see a bank of arrows trained on me. Sidonie was still almost directly beneath me, gazing upward. You
will descend and place yourself in custody of the Palace Guard. Now.
Sidonie.
Spirals and circles.
I wrapped the chain around my right wrist and drew my dagger. I fished Bodeshmun s talisman
from my purse. I took a few slow, deep breaths. Quick. I d always been quick. I would have to be very,
very quick. I whispered a little prayer to Blessed Elua and his Companions and felt a measure of my
dizziness and nausea abate. It was a small mercy, but I d take it.
I inched back out onto the limb, swung my leg over and dropped.
The guards moved swiftly toward me. I moved faster. I grabbed Sidonie, putting the edge of my
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