And the Avar watched him out of the corner of their eyes ... almost as if they were keeping an eye on him, by the Horned Ones, rather than waiting for his will!

Although the Avar people tolerated Isfrael among them, the Avar Banes avoided him completely, and that made Isfrael more furious than anything else. He knew the Banes talked with Faraday, although they took pains to do so in private.

The Banes — perhaps all Avar — are keeping secrets from me, thought Isfrael, and the wild blond curls on his forehead

tightened into even crisper, angrier knots, and his horns twinkled, as if they sharpened themselves on his thoughts.

His fingers dug into the soft earth at his side.

How could he get out of here?

Isfrael remembered how DragonStar drew the doorway of light to move to and from Sanctuary —

through Spiredore, Isfrael thought — and he lusted for a doorway for himself.

He almost laughed. DragonStar was hardly likely to give him the doorway, was he? And Isfrael did not like his chances of trying to wrest it off the man: he'd likely set his pet lizard (another of Minstrelsea's creatures that had betrayed Isfrael) or one of his hounds to his destruction.

There had to be some other way.

And then Isfrael stilled as memory came to his aid.

Faraday had used the doorway to evacuate the Avar from the forests into Sanctuary!

The same doorway, or a different one?

Isfrael could hardly breathe for excitement. DragonStar and his "witches" (Isfrael would have laughed had he not been so preoccupied) had had only a relatively few days to evacuate all of Tencendor. If Faraday had been given a doorway with which to work, then had the others?

Probably ... probably ...

And of the others, Leagh was the most trusting ... and the most vulnerable.

Isfrael smiled.

Zared laughed at something Theod had just said, but there was a hard edge to his merriment. Here he sat with Theod and Herme in this marbled palace in Sanctuary, drinking the finest of wines and nibbling on the most delectable of fruits, and yet above their heads Tencendor lay wasted with horror.

And Leagh, as also Gwendylyr, were going to have to go out there and do personal battle with the Demons in order to retrieve it.

Zared did not like it at all, and neither did Theod. Herme hardly said a word, feeling both guilty and relieved that his wife didn't have to face a Demon.

The three men sat with Leagh and Gwendylyr in a square chamber that opened out onto a balcony.

Scents of wildflowers and grasses wafted in.

It should have been peaceful, but Zared was left itching with the need to do something. He and Theod had kept themselves as busy as they could, making sure the Acharites were settled, reconstituting what councils they could, trying to keep people busy, but it was a sham business.

All Zared wanted to do was get on a horse and lead an army somewhere ... or, at the very least, be given the chance to build a permanent home for his people somewhere. He hated being trapped in this boring prettiness.

Gwendylyr leaned forward and threw her set of gaming sticks onto the ghemt board, then clapped her hands in delight. She was winning, and loving it.

Herme chuckled and reached for some more wine, while Theod rolled his eyes in mock despair at Zared, and conceded his squares on the board to his wife. "And with that, my love, you have won the entire board!"

Gwendylyr grinned, and gathered up everyone's gaming sticks. "Another game?"

"No!" the others chorused, holding up their hands in protest.

"I do not trust your witches skills," Herme said, with a grin to take away any implied criticism in his words.

"Well, perhaps we can play again this evening," Leagh said. "I think we need time to plan our strategies against you, Gwendylyr."

"As you wish." Gwendylyr was still smiling as she packed the sticks and board away. "It will but delay the humiliation."

"Gods!" Zared said. "Did she always get her way like this in your home, Theod?"

"Aye. It got so bad I used to actually enjoy going over the county accounts in the evening rather than spend time with Gwendylyr."

But Theod's tone was light, and his eyes dancing, and none of the others doubted his love for his wife.

Leagh sighed, and rose. "I must lie down for a while — I must admit this futile tussle against Gwendylyr has exhausted me. Will you excuse me?"

Zared stood as well. "Let me come with you, Leagh."

She smiled, and put a hand on his chest. "No. Let me rest a while in peace, and then perhaps you and I can go for a walk in the orchards. I can amaze you with my ability to climb the highest fruit trees in search of the juiciest fruits."

Zared opened his mouth to protest, then realised she was making fun of him. He smiled, very gently and with utter love, and kissed her hand. "Rest well, my sweet."

Herme rose as well, his face drawn and tired, and offered to escort Leagh to her chamber.

She smiled, and took his arm.

After they'd left the room, Zared turned to the other two and finally let the worry shine unhindered from his eyes. "How will she manage in the wasteland against a Demon," he said, his voice desperate.

"How?"

Leagh slept, and dreamed.

She wandered through the Field of Flowers, so content and relaxed she was half dreaming even amid her dream.

Her hand was on her belly, and she and her unborn child talked — not with words, but with thoughts and emotions and laughter. She loved her child, and her child her, and while neither could wait for the time when the child would be born, they were not impatient for it.

The child curled up, protected and loved, deep within Leagh's body, and that contented both of them.

Leagh walked, and let the scent of the lilies seep into her innermost being.

The unborn child screamed.

Leagh jerked out of her reverie, although not out of the dream; wild-eyed she stared about, almost tripping in her hasty attempts to circle and spot the danger.

Her hands clutched protectively over her belly, no protection at all against knife or spear or iron-studded and hard- wielded club.