Proud and stubborn Aloysius Crump played his role perfectly in the public square the next morning. Standing with his hands behind his back lashed through a loop in a heavy pole, he answered De'Un-nero's accusations of treason and murderous intent by spitting in the Bishop's face.

That only made it all the more delicious for De'Unnero. Proclaiming the glory of God, he brought forth a gemstone, a serpentine, and summoned its bluish-white protective shield - not around himself - around the surprised Crump.

The crowd, several hundred strong, mostly street vendors and fishmongers out early, gasped at the display, though they knew not what it might be.

One woman at the back of the crowd, standing more in an alley than in the square, recognized the glow, though she couldn't fathom the reasoning behind putting it around the accused merchant. Pony watched quietly and so did Dainsey, standing beside her, asking her question after question without waiting for answers.

Bishop De'Unnero brought up a second protective shield, this one around himself, and then held forth another stone, glittering red.

"Ruby, for fire," Pony explained, "though no fire will have much effect on either of the men with the serpentine shields about them."

"Then why?" Dainsey asked.

Pony shook her head, but then her eyes widened and her mouth gaped as she watched De'Unnero plunge his ruby-holding hand through Crump's serpentine shield, holding the red gem against the man's shoulder.

"In God's name," she gasped.

"What does it mean?" Dainsey asked.

"I give you one final chance to denounce your actions, Aloysius Crump," Bishop De'Unnero cried loudly, "one last chance to admit your treason against the King of Honce-the-Bear and live."

Crump spat on him again, and moved to spit yet a third time. But his eyes widened and he gasped repeatedly, the saliva bubbling in his mouth as De'Unnero began bringing forth the fires of the ruby, fires contained by the unrelenting serpentine shield and within the body of Aloysius Crump. Smoke streamed from his shoulder; his eyes fluttered and rolled up.

"In the name of the King, then, let the fires of God cleanse you!" De'Un-nero proclaimed. "And may he have mercy on your tainted soul!" And with that, the Bishop loosed the full power of the ruby.

Its energy bulged and shook the serpentine shield, but no flames could pass through that barrier, nor could Crump.

"He's alive with fire!" Dainsey cried. Everyone else in the square cried out, as well, for the man within the serpentine shield seemed an orange ball of flame, a living creature of fire.

Crump was consumed suddenly, brutally, the energy of the fiery burst incinerating his clothing, his skin, evaporating his bodily fluids.

De'Unnero pulled his hand back and dropped the serpentine shields, and the blackened, tattered remains of Aloysius Crump tumbled to the platform.

"God be praised," the Bishop said. He walked away, his last duty done, eager for the road that would bring him to Nightbird.

By the time Brother Francis set out on the road from St.-Mere-Abelle, before the midpoint that same morning, the city of Palmaris was without its leader, as eager De'Unnero had already begun his swift flight to the north.

Francis' movements were less eager and far less swift. He and five body-guards rode in a wagon drawn by two strong horses, moving steadily along the road to the west. They carried a valuable load: several chests of gol' bears to be used by Francis to endear himself to the Palmaris populace.

Normally the seventy-mile journey to the Masur Delaval would take three full days, but Markwart had charged him to take no more than two. To that end, one of the other brothers carried a hematite and a tur-quoise; he would use them to bring in animals and steal the life force from them, lending it to the horses.

And so at the end of that first day, Francis and his fellows had put more than forty miles behind them. When night descended, their team fresh from the life force of some white-tailed deer, they continued on.

Francis preferred the frenetic pace. Since they didn't stop for the night, there was no time for any of them to relax; and he did not have to face the inevitable introspection, the thousand questions and thousand doubts that surrounded him. He drove the team until exhaustion overwhelmed him, and then he slept, but only for a brief period. His second nap came shortly after the dawn of the second day, and Francis quickly fell into a deep slumber, one that might have lasted well past noon. However, he was roused with still two hours to go before midday, and notified that they had reached the great river.

A fog was thick on the Masur Delaval, so Francis could not yet see the outline of the city that would serve as his new home. By the time the slow-moving ferry had crossed half the river, though, that fog was gone; there, before Francis, loomed all his doubts.

King Danube's journey to Palmaris was not nearly as swift, though cer-tainly more comfortable. Danube, Duke Targon Bree Kalas, and Constance Pemblebury, along with several other nobles, sailed on the royal ship,River Palace, a large caravel crewed by the most experienced sailors and oarsmen in the King's military, staffed by beautiful women, and stocked with the finest foods and finest drinks.

Surrounding the ship sailed half of Ursal's fleet, ten warships loaded with weapons and soldiers. The miniature fleet sailed in the defensive formation called the lance-left - two ships behindRiver Palace, two to the port, one directly ahead of her, and the remaining five strung westward fromRiver Palace's starboard bow. The lead ship was some six to eight hundred feet ahead of the King's caravel; lookouts watched for danger both along the riverbank and in the waters ahead.

Not that the King and his escort were expecting any trouble; riders had been sent ahead along both riverbanks, warning the local inhabitants to stay away from the water and to have no boats out when the red sail emblazoned with the black bear rampant of King Danube - the mainsail of every war-ship of Ursal - came into view.

As they were in no hurry, they meant to put in at nearly every port; the King had allowed for three full weeks of travel at a leisurely pace. And so it was, the days drifting lazily and uneventfully past them, the on- board party nearly constant and growing bawdier by the day.

They were at just such revelry late one afternoon when the ship lurched unexpectedly, throwing more than a few to the deck.

"Captain, do warn us!" the King cried to the man standing on the bridge.

"Battle mast!" Targon Bree Kalas interrupted, running forward past the King. Danube turned to see the man leap to the rail, grab a line, and then lean out so he could get an unobstructed view of the river ahead.

"The lead ship has dropped its mainsail!" Kalas explained. "As has the second!"

"What is it?" King Danube asked his captain.

"A ship in the river ahead," Kalas answered before the captain had a chance to respond, "a common trader, by the looks of her sails."

"I thought we instructed all vessels to keep off the water," King Danube replied.

"As you ordered, my King," the captain replied.

"But this one either did not hear or chose to ignore," Kalas added.

"Order it to move aside, then," said the King, "or sink it!"

"We are positioning to act accordingly," the captain assured him.

Duke Kalas looked at his King and smiled at the captain's false bravado. Danube, a man of action, was likely as enthralled as Kalas over the sudden excitement, the first excitement other than carnal since the journey had begun. But Danube had to keep up appearances, and thus his seemingly aggravated call for sinking the trader. The ship would move aside, they both knew, for it stood no chance of winning a battle with the warships in Danube's fleet.

TheRiver Palace and her escorts dropped sail and were propelled ahead by their oarsmen. The trader had lifted a white flag and had dropped anchor, a sign of parlay. The warships had formed a triangle around her, their catapults, ballistae, and archers at the ready.

"Nothing in the water ahead of her," Kalas observed.

They all watched, intrigued, as a small boat was lowered from the trader, then rowed out to the nearest Ursal ship.

"Saudi Jacintha!"came a shout through a horn from that ship, a call echoed down the line until it came to the ears of Danube and the others.

"Saudi Jacintha?"Constance Pemblebury echoed, a puzzled look on her face; the words meant nothing to her.

"The vessel's name," Kalas explained. Then he tapped his finger against his chin, considering the name, one he thought he had heard before.

A second message was passed down the line, this one naming Captain Al'u'met, who had sailed all the way from Palmaris in hopes of speaking with King Danube.

"I know no such man," an exasperated Danube said. "Captain, call back for the ship to move aside or be sent to the depths. I have no time - "

"Al'u'met!" Kalas said with sudden recognition. "Of course."

"You know the man?" Danube asked.

"Behrenese," Kalas replied. "A fine sailor by all reports."

"Behrenese?" Danube echoed incredulously. "This ship, thisSaudi Jacintha, from Behren?"

"Sails from Ursal and Palmaris," Kalas clarified. "Al'u'met is Behrenese, but his crew is not, nor is his ship. He claims to be a subject of the King of Honce-the-Bear, I believe." There was another little fact about Al'u'met, concerning the man's religious convictions, that Kalas knew as well, but he thought it better to keep that private for the time being.

"You know him?"

"I have heard his name, that is all," Kalas admitted. "Surely a Behrenese ship's captain on the Masur Delaval is a rarity, and thus Al'u'met has gained some measure of fame."

"And he has come from Palmaris in hopes of speaking to me," King Danube mumbled. "Cheeky, I would say."

"Perhaps," Kalas said in a leading tone. Then he and Danube locked gazes, and both understood the potential significance of a Behrenese sailor coming from Palmaris. What news might this Al'u'met bring King Danube? What stories of the terrors of Bishop De'Unnero?"

Off to the side, Abbot Je'howith shuffled his feet uneasily, and that only made Kalas press on more firmly.

"Hear him," the duke begged the King. "We know not the true situation in Palmaris, only what aggrieved merchants and churchmen have told us; and obviously both are prejudiced on this issue."

"As is a Behrenese sailor," Je'howith pointedly reminded them.

"But at least it may provide a third perspective," Kalas shot back, and the two eyed each other dangerously.

King Danube glanced around, trying to measure the level of intrigue among his entourage. He didn't want to interrupt the party and certainly didn't want to turn the rest of the voyage glum for the sake of a mere sailor - and especially one of Behrenese descent. But such a meeting might actually serve to make the voyage more tolerable.

"You cannot grant audience to every commoner who comes begging," Je'howith remarked, but the abbot's opposition only strengthened Danube's resolve.

"Send a messenger to him to see what he desires," the King said to Duke Kalas. "If his subject is worthy of my attention, arrange for the merchant boat to lead us back to Palmaris, where I will find a moment's time to speak with the man."

"Drop a boat and two to row!" Duke Kalas ordered, taking command of the situation. The crew, not daring to question his authority, immediately complied. To everyone's surprise, and to the delight of many ladies, the Duke then swung over the rail and dropped nimbly into the small craft, standing in the prow as the two men began to row.

"Such a man of action," Constance Pemblebury muttered, but her sar-casm was lost on the swooning ladies all about her.

Targon Bree Kalas loved the water, loved the lurching motion of a boat and the feel of damp wind on his face. He would gladly give up his land holdings for the title of Duke of the Mirianic, but that title belonged to Duke Bretherford of Entel, who showed no signs of dying anytime soon, and who had several heirs. So Kalas took his waterborne pleasures where he could find them - and he found one now, the men behind him propelling the craft past the four warships ahead.

The sight of the three Ursal warships filled him with pride as they came into view. One ship had its two heavy ballistae tilted slightly upward. Kalas understood that these weapons shot circular bands wrapped in chains. When flung out, the spinning motion of the bands caused the jagged chains to spread wide, shredding the enemy's sails.

A second ship carried two small catapults that shot burning pitch; and the third fired metal-capped ballistae spears that could drive fatal holes through the hulls of any but the most heavily armored ships. Add to those heavy weapons the rows of skilled archers - their great yew bows bent back, their many arrows wrapped with rags, ready to be lit - and Kalas knew without question that theSaudi Jacintha had no options; any show of resis-tance would result in the swift destruction of that vessel and all aboard.

Kalas ordered his oarsmen to bring him right up alongside theJacintha to a jack ladder that had been dropped. He recognized the man standing at the rail as Captain Al'u'met.

"You have requested an audience with the King?" the Duke asked, accepting Al'u'met's extended hand to help him to the deck of theSaudi Jacintha.

"Indeed, that was my sole purpose in sailing south," Al'u'met replied. "The rumors in Palmaris said that King Danube was on his way, and I know that it is not customary in this difficult season for the King to travel. I hoped he would choose the more comfortable way of the river over the roads."

Kalas glanced around at the warships. "You view this as a favorable situation?" he asked with obvious sarcasm.

"I could have asked for nothing less," Al'u'met replied. "And, truthfully, if I did not find my King so well guarded, it would have been cause for concern."

Kalas smiled at the fine answer, particularly at Al'u'met's reference to Danube as "my King."

"I pray that King Danube will hear me," Al'u'met went on. "Again, that is all that I could rightly ask, and more than I, a humble sailor, deserve. But there are problems in Palmaris that he must know of, and I, perhaps better than anyone, am in a position to explain them."

"From your own perspective," Kalas reasoned.

"An honest perspective," the tall black-skinned man replied, squaring his shoulders.

"And these problems concern the Behrenese of Palmaris?"

Al'u'met nodded. "They are being unfairly persecuted by a bishop out of control - " Kalas' smile and upraised hand stopped him.

"This is known to the King," the Duke explained. His mind was whirling at the possibilities here, for it was obvious that Al'u'met would prove to be another witness against the Bishop, and thus, against Church control. King Danube had set the terms of any meeting with the sailor - a meeting that would occur in Palmaris. But Kalas feared that Je'howith would find a way to deflect the situation by then; also, the Father Abbot might already be in Palmaris by the time the King arrived. "But perhaps it would be better if he heard them again, from a true witness," the Duke decided, and he turned aside. Al'u'met, after a cautionary glance around, led the way back into the rowboat.

Again Duke Kalas took the position in the prow, so he was the first to witness the incredulous look on the face of King Danube when they neared theRiver Palace and the King noted the new passenger.

"Pray you listen to this man here and now, my King," the Duke said, climbing over the rail and onto the deck of the ship before Danube, Con-stance Pemblebury, and the other nobles, including an obviously distressed Abbot Je'howith. "He has come from Palmaris with news of the most recent actions of our Bishop." He turned and grabbed Al'u'met's hand then, and hoisted the man up beside him.

King Danube spent a long and uncomfortable moment staring at the impertinent Duke; but at the same time, he would hear nothing of Je'howith's complaints, holding up his hand whenever the abbot of St. Honce started to speak.

"You have come to plead the cause of your people," the King said to Al'u'met.

"I have come to speak for citizens of Palmaris who are being treated badly in the name of their King," Al'u'met corrected.

"Behrenese citizens," one of the ladies at the side muttered distastefully, but then she looked away when all eyes turned toward her.

"Of Behrenese descent," Al'u'met conceded, "many whose families have resided in Palmaris for nearly a century. And, yes, some who have recently arrived from the southern kingdom. We look different, and so you are uncomfortable," he stated bluntly, "and our customs to you seem strange, as yours do to us. But we are not criminals, and we have settled in the city honestly. We do not deserve such treatment."

"Is this what your god teaches you?" Abbot Je'howith said sarcastically.

Duke Kalas bit his lip so as not to chuckle, for he knew that the abbot was treading on dangerous ground here - with Al'u'met the Abellican.

"My god is your god," the captain calmly explained. "And, yes, he does instruct us to treat each other with decency and respect, whatever the color of our skin. Abbot Dobrinion of Palmaris knew this."

"Abbot Dobrinion is dead," Je'howith said sharply, his tone giving away his frustration with this meeting.

"The city mourns," Al'u'met replied.

"Not so," said Je'howith. "Was not Dobrinion Abbot of St. Precious when the demon dactyl came awake, when war was brought to our land?"

"You imply that Abbot Dobrinion played a role - " Al'u'met started to vehemently protest, but Danube had heard enough.

"I do not mean to start a war here on the deck of my ship," the King said. "If you insist on arguing with this man, Abbot Je'howith, pray wait until we get to Palmaris, or take your fight back to his ship with him when we are finished here. Now," he said, turning to Al'u'met, "you came here to tell me a story, and I am ready to listen."

Duke Kalas wore a smug smile. Abbot Je'howith's embittered attitude was playing favorably for him, he knew, as would the story Al'u'met was about to tell. His hopes were high, then, that the Church rule in Palmaris would be short-lived.

Of course, Duke Kalas had no way of knowing of the private meeting between the King and the imposing specter of the Father Abbot.

Captain Al'u'met's long and detailed account of the events in Palmaris not only backed up the complaints the many merchants' representatives had been moaning to King Danube, and the protests of Ambassador Rahib Daibe, but took those problems to a new level and a new urgency. The cap-tain's accounts of women and children and the elderly having to plunge into cold waters to avoid what could only be described as torture by the city soldiers had the ladies gasping, the nobles groaning and shaking their heads, and even the King casting angry sidelong glances at an increasingly frustrated Abbot Je'howith. It wasn't that any of the gentlefolk on theRiver Palace really cared about the commoners - except perhaps for Constance Pemblebury - especially the black-skinned Behrenese, but the personal accounts did strike a chord and somewhat shamed King Danube that some of his subjects were being so badly treated.

Certainly by the time Al'u'met finished, Abbot Je'howith was rightfully uncomfortable.

"I have heard these rumors," King Danube replied to the captain. "They, in fact, have precipitated my voyage to your city."

"And you plan to correct the injustice?" Al'u'met asked.

The King, not accustomed to such talk from commoners - Al'u'met had been given permission to tell his story, but that did not extend permission for him to question the King - turned a narrow gaze on the man. "I plan to view the situation," he responded somewhat coldly.

"I only hope that you will view Palmaris with the perspective of those who have felt the uninvited wrath of Bishop De'Unnero," Al'u'met replied. "If my accounting brings that result alone, I shall consider my journey down the river worthwhile."

Duke Kalas took his arm then, for both men understood that Al'u'met was wearing thin his welcome. "I thank you for hearing me, my King," he said, dipping a low bow. "Truly your repute as a great and honest man is not unearned." He bowed again and followed Duke Kalas back to the waiting rowboat.

"You did well for your people," the Duke whispered to him as they parted at the rail.

Back on the main deck, an uncomfortable silence surrounded the gath-ering, with many stares continuing to fall on Abbot Je'howith. No one spoke any complaints or angry words, though, all waiting for the King to take the lead.

But Danube Brock Ursal, remembering his nighttime encounter with Father Abbot Markwart, had little to say, though much to think about.

"As you wish, Master Francis," the brother said yet again. Though he liked hearing his name prefaced by that title, Francis was growing quite perturbed by this one's overeager attention.

"Abbot Dobrinion's old quarters will more than suit my needs," Francis explained.

"But Chasewind Manor - " Brother Talumus tried to argue again.

"Chasewind Manor is to be prepared for the visit of men greater than Master Francis," Francis replied.

"Headmaster Francis," the nervous Brother Talumus corrected.

"Headmaster of St. Precious, and so at St. Precious he should stay," Francis declared in no uncertain terms. "As Bishop De'Unnero will remain at St. Precious should he return before the Father Abbot and the King have left the city."

Brother Talumus' eyes widened in horror.

"Bishop De'Unnero will defer to the King and to the Father Abbot, cer-tainly," Francis stated, understanding the source of that terror. Francis, too, would not wish to be the one telling De'Unnero that he had been removed from his palatial home!

"The issue is settled, brother," he said. "We have more important mat-ters to discuss."

Talumus seemed to calm down at last. The man had been in a tizzy since that morning, when the wagon from St.-Mere-Abelle had arrived at the abbey bearing both the new headmaster and, according to the whispers, a king's treasure.

"I will begin meeting with the merchants this very day," Francis explained. "You have a list, of course."

"Detailing every gemstone surrendered, and by whom," Talumus assured him.

"I will see that at once," said Francis, "and then begin with the proces-sion of merchants."

"One will not be able to attend," Brother Talumus remarked, lowering his voice. "He did not survive his disagreement with Bishop De'Unnero, and was executed in the public square the morning the Bishop departed."

Francis gasped; but when he thought about it, when he considered De'Unnero's vicious temperament, he was not surprised. "Invite the sur-vivors of his house, then," he instructed.

"None, I fear," Talumus replied. "Aloysius Crump had no family. Many of the servants have stayed on at his house, I have heard."

Francis struck a pensive pose. His first instinct was to wait until Father Abbot Markwart arrived and then let the older and wiser man decide what to do about the house of Crump. But Francis overruled that instinct. He was a master now, he reminded himself, the headmaster of St. Precious, and soon, possibly, to be the bishop of Palmaris. He must be decisive and assertive, must act within the desires of Father Abbot Markwart and for the good of the Church in Palmaris. "Take his house for the Church," Francis said.

Brother Talumus' eyes widened. "T-the people are already angry about the fate of Master Crump," he stammered. "Are we to insult them?"

"Take his house for the Church," Francis said again, more determinedly. "Keep the staff, all of them, and pay them well."

"And what are we to use the house for?" Talumus asked. "Will you live there?"

"Did I not already instruct you that I will remain here?" Francis shot back, feigning anger. "No, we shall find a use for the house, one that will benefit the people of Palmaris. Perhaps we will distribute food from there, or dispense healing from gemstones."

Brother Talumus' defensive frown began, slightly, to turn up into a smile, and Francis knew that he had chosen correctly, that his action, while bene-fitting the Church with a valuable piece of property, would also aid the common folk.

"The list, brother," Francis instructed, motioning at the door. "And send our messengers out to the effected merchants. Tell them that they are to be compensated this very day."

The monk nearly tripped as he spun and rushed for the door.

"And Brother Talumus," Francis called, stopping him short just before he exited the room, "do instruct our messengers that they are not to be secretive about their message."

Talumus smiled and was gone, leaving a contented Francis alone. He could get used to this position of authority, the new master decided. The constant game of politics intrigued him.