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it with a heavy heart; too many missing faces there.
    Lady Una was there, too, with Iya, Arkoniel, and the ragtag collection of wizards Iya had gathered. The rest were soldiers still wearing the baldric of Atyion, Captain Grannia and her women foremost among them.
    Lord Jorvai and Lord Kyman, Tamír’s first allies among the nobles, waited with sizable contingents of their own riders.
    Left-handed Manies hoisted Tamír’s tattered banner aloft. It still showed the blended coat of arms of her parents, Ero and Atyion together. A long black ribbon was tied to the top of the staff, out of respect for the dead king.
    â€œYou should ride under the royal banner now,” said Tharin.
    â€œI haven’t been crowned yet, have I? Besides, Korin took that with him, too.” She leaned closer, whispering, “So many? It’s less than three miles to Illardi’s house.”
    â€œAs I said, the streets are still dangerous. A lot of Erius’men have refused to join us. They could still be out there somewhere, planning who knows what.”
    Tamír settled her sword on her hip and went down the steps to the tall black horse a man still wearing Erius’ colors was holding for her.
    â€œKeep your eyes open and stay close to her,” Tharin muttered as he and Ki followed.
    â€œI will!” Ki shot back under his breath. What did Tharin think he was going to do, go woolgathering as if they were out for a hunt?
    As Ki swung up onto his borrowed horse, he saw that Tamír had drawn her dagger. Her horse’s mane had not been shorn. She grasped a hank of the coarse black hair and cut it free, then singed it in a nearby torch. It was a symbolic act, but a worthy one. “For my kin,” she said, loud enough for all to hear. “And for all who died bravely for Skala.”
    From the corner of his eye, Ki caught Iya smiling and shaking her head.
    K i and Tamír rode at the center of the column, shielded on all sides by armed riders and wizards. Jorvai took the forward position, and Kyman and his men the rear guard. Tharin rode with Tamír, and the two wizards flanked them. Baldus clung wide-eyed behind Arkoniel, a small bundle clutched in one hand.
    With much of the Palatine still in flames, the usual route to the gate was impassable. Tamír and her column crossed the ruined park to a small secondary gate behind the ravaged drysian grove.
    This way took them past the Royal Tomb. Tamír glanced up at the scorched ruins of the portico. Ranks of priests and soldiers stood guard there, but most of the royal effigies were gone.
    â€œDid the Plenimarans knock down the statues?”
    Iya chuckled. “No, the defenders on the Palatine dropped them on the enemies’ heads.”
    â€œI never went back,” Tamír murmured.
    â€œHighness?”
    Ki understood. The night they’d first come to Ero, Tamír had taken her father’s ashes down into the royal crypt and seen her mother’s preserved corpse. That had been the only time she’d ventured into the catacombs, avoiding them even on Mourning Night and the other holy days. Ki figured that after living with Brother all these years, she’d had her fill of the dead.
    And where’s he now?
he wondered. There’d been no sign of the demon since the unbinding ceremony. All the bits of bone from the doll had burned away with the magic. Perhaps Tamír was finally free of him, as Lhel had promised.
    And he’s free, too
. Ki still recalled the look of agony on Brother’s face in those final moments. Despite all the fear and pain he’d caused over the years, and the harm he’d tried to do, Ki hoped that the angry spirit had passed the gate at last, for everyone’s sake.

Chapter 3
    T he city outside the Palatine was in chaos, the air filled with angry cries and the sound of weeping. The rain had lessened, but ragged clouds still hung low over the city. Fires still raged in some of the wards,