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from the cooperage, Wendra said, “Father was pleased.”
    “I
can see why,” Alucius said. “Has he ever had such an order?”
    “Not
that I know, not in at least five years, and possibly ten.”
    “You
were keeping the books before we were married, and you saw all the records?”
    “Most
of them. Sometimes, I’d check back to see how Mother had written in sales,
especially if it happened to be something I hadn’t seen.” Wendra looked to
Alucius. “You’re worried, aren’t you?”
    “I
shouldn’t be, but I am. I can’t help but wonder why he got such an order now.
It could be a coincidence, I suppose.”
    “You
don’t think so.”
    “No.
But I have no reason to think otherwise,” Alucius admitted. After a moment, he
smiled. “Let’s see if they have any of the late peaches. Grandsire would like
those.”
    “And
you wouldn’t at all?”
    Alucius
flushed, then shrugged helplessly.
    Wendra
leaned toward him and kissed him on the cheek.

Chapter 7
    Hieron, Madrien
    The
unclad redheaded woman looked at the circle of goldenstone floor tiles, ringed
with black. Within the circle was a misty column—its pinkish purple barely
visible. The gold-and-black circle stood out starkly against the muted green
tiles of the rest of the bedchamber floor.
    She
took a deep breath. Then, convulsively, she took one step, and another, to
place herself in the center of the black-tiled circle, forcing herself through
an unseen barrier. Immediately, her entire body twisted, as if being pummeled
by unseen blows. Welts appeared on her pale, freckled skin, then bruises. Her
breath came in gasps, but she remained within the circle for a time, her limbs
lifted and turned like a marionette’s.
    A
good quarter glass passed before she forced her way from the circle, where she
stood, slumped, breathing rapidly, outside the black tile line.
    Even
before she slowly walked to the dressing room, the bruises that had covered her
skin began to fade—as did the freckles. By the time she stopped before the
full-length mirror and took in her reflection, her skin was close to alabaster
white and unmarked. Her formerly blue eyes were a bluish violet, and her red
hair had darkened to a deep mahogany that was more like red-tinged black.
    cold
and triumphant smile crossed her lips. “It worked,” she murmured. “The old
tablets were right. Regent in name only from now on.”
    Stepping
away from the mirror, she began to don the clothing she had laid out earlier,
ending with the violet tunic and trousers, the black boots, and, last, the
emerald necklace.

Chapter 8
    Alucius
stood in the shadows beside a long purple hanging draped from a stone pillar
that was golden throughout—not merely gilded. Overhead, at least fifty yards
above, arched a ceiling of pink marble, so precisely fitted that even his
Talent could detect no sign of a join or of mortar. The same pink marble
comprised the walls. Stretching a hundred yards to his right, the floor of the
hall was of octagonal sections of polished gold and green marble, each section
of green marble inset with an eight-pointed star of golden marble, the narrow
arms of the star outlined in a thin line of brilliant metal that was neither
gold nor brass.
    A
man stood on the dais, a tall figure with flawless alabaster skin, shimmering
black hair, and deep violet eyes. He wore a tunic of brilliant green, trimmed
in a deep purple, with matching trousers. His black boots were so highly
polished that they appeared metallic.
    Two
smaller figures—a man and a woman—stood before him as he spoke. They looked
like children in comparison to him, though neither was short.
    Alucius
listened.
    “You
understand nothing. More than two thousand years have passed since we departed,
and you have built nothing that rivals what we left. Even with the dual
scepters we left, and the libraries and the Tables, you have learned nothing.
You squabble among yourselves like spoiled children. All around you were
wonders, and from