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spoken so perfidiously?” he asked her. But she only turned away and seemed to sleep.
    There came a sound of hesitant knocking. The king rose from beside his wife’s couch and opened the door. The corridor was empty except for his elder brother Stergos, the Royal Alchymist, attired in splendid crimson vestments in honor of the festival. Although he was five years Conrig’s senior, he appeared to be much younger, with a clean-shaven round face and curly blond hair that always seemed slightly disordered. Tonight he was obviously ill at ease and his brow was dewed with perspiration.
    Stergos whispered, “All’s well with Her Grace?”
    Conrig nodded and the alchymist came quickly into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. “I bespoke Ullanoth in Royal
    Fenguard castle not ten minutes ago. She can ascertain nothing through her ordinary scrying, but if the unborn possesses talent, she will be able to Send to it as she does to you and me. First, let me make certain that your lady sleeps.” With great care, Stergos lifted one of the queen’s eyelids.
    The iris with its dilated pupil had rolled upward. “Good. Now we must distance ourselves from Risalla if the experiment is to work. Let’s go into the queen’s sitting room.”
    They passed through Conrig’s great bedchamber and Risalla’s adjacent one into the spacious solar where the queen and her ladies were accustomed to sew, read, and break their fast. “We should be at least twenty ells away from her,” Stergos said, “so our own talent is incapable of giving substance to the Sending.”
    “What then?”
    “I am to bespeak the Conjure-Queen that all is in readiness,” said his brother, perching on one of the chairs near the cold fireplace. The king took the other one. “She will attempt the Sending, while we pray she does not succeed. If Ullanoth walks through that door, it means that the babe’s talent permitted her to materialize beside Risalla.”
    “And I’m futtered once again,” Conrig murmured bitterly. “Damn it, Gossy! If I could but convince the Lords of the South to do away with the impediment, then I’d be safe and so would my sons… What a king young Bramlow would make! Bold as a hawk and sharp as a varg sword!
    You should have seen the little rogue get the better of that bloody pet monkey this evening.” He described the scene in the
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    May, Julian - Boreal Moon 2 - Ironcrown Moon royal nursery, and Stergos had to smile in spite of his nervousness.
    “I punished the lad harshly,” Conrig admitted. “A week’s confinement on bread and milk. He must learn self-discipline if we ever hope to have the talent restriction lifted. The Lords of the South will never yield if they envision a wizard with overt powers sitting one day on the throne.”
    Stergos ventured, “Shall I windspeak the Conjure-Queen now?”
    “Wait just a moment.” The king casually covered his mouth with his hand. “I must ask your advice on another matter before we converse with Ulla’s Sending. She almost never uses the Loophole to eavesdrop now because of her considerable pain-debt, and if we guard ourselves from scrier’s lip-reading, our speech should be secure from her.”
    “What is it, Con?” Stergos had drawn the hood of his crimson cloak over his head so that his face was concealed.
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    “I had disquieting news from Parlian Beorbrook tonight at the feast. You know he’s just come down from an inspection of our Wold
    Road outposts in western Didion.”
    “Don’t tell me Prince Somarus is up to his old tricks!”
    “No. As far as the earl marshal can tell, the bastard’s lying doggo for the moment somewhere in the Lady Lakes region. Beorbrook’s news concerns something far more serious: a rumor that Maudrayne may be alive, hiding somewhere in Tarn. A traveler from Donorvale said that the rumor