Chapter 12

The rain fit her mood perfectly.

Keritanima stood on the deck of the Sailor's Pride, the personal flagship of the Eram noble family's private fleet, staring out over rain-roughed seas, her short, boxy muzzle scrunched up into a perpetual snarl. The air was surprisingly cool for so late in the spring, and the rain had come down for two straight days, wetting down sails, dripping below decks, and making things miserable for everyone in the huge convoy of ships that escorted the clipper as it sailed west, back to Wikuna. The rain didn't bring lightning or wind, however, making the going very slow and very soggy for all the ships involved, weighing down on the morale of the men.

Twenty-seven ships. That was how many escorting ships there were. Ten clippers, two Wikuni rakers, twelve frigates, and three Dreadnaughts, huge ships that were brand new to the Wikuni fleets because their sides were plated with sheets of steel. Those ships formed a teardrop formation around Keritanima's vessel, keeping it solidly in the middle of their formation to prevent anything from reaching her. They had taken extravagant measures to protect her for the voyage home, from a small fleet of ships to the Marines that stood on many of them, ready to board enemy vessels and take the fight to the enemy up close.

The morale of the men was another issue for the cagey Admiral Therak, one of her father's oldest and most experience officers. The old raccoon Wikuni was missing his left ear and had scars breaking up the continuity of his fur in many places, and he paced nervously whenever she could see him. To put it plainly, KeritanimaChan Eram absolutely terrified his crew. She terrified anyone who looked at her, looked at the expression of utter fury that had not left her features since her capture. Many of them had seen what she had done to the Wikuni Colonel who had been right there when she was initially captured. This was not the vapid little fool that they had heard about. This was a Sorceress, someone who commanded magical power, and had demonstrated her willingness to kill with it. They knew that the King had ordered her captured and brought back, but many of them wondered if that was a really wise thing to do.

Keritanima pulled the cloak around her a bit tighter, staring out into the sea. It was better now than it had been before. After they had dragged her onto the ship, seeing Tarrin laying there in a pool of his own blood, not knowing if he was alive or dead....it almost drove her mad. It frightened her that she had grown so powerfully attached to anyone, but the truth of it was there in her heart. Tarrin and Allia were her brother and sister, her family, and seeing Tarrin like that had nearly destroyed her. It deeply pained her that they weren't close to her, there to laugh with her or cheer her up, or just be close to her. She felt lost and alone, so very alone, and that loneliness brought with it a strange, acute pain that she had never experienced before. Dear Miranda and Azakar tried to help ease her fear and her suffering, but their friendship just wasn't enough to fill the huge void left in her heart, or comfort the dread terror she felt whenever her mind conjured up the image of Tarrin laying on the dock. Her eidectic memory had saved her many times, but for the first time in her life, she had vigorously cursed it for burning such a starkly vivid memory of her injured brother into her memory. It was an image she would never forget, to her deathbed.

But then she had had the dream. It was simple enough. She dreamed she was back in the courtyard in Suld, in the Tower, the courtyard that had been their sanctuary while they were there. She was standing there at the fountain, looking up at the perfection of the statue that stood in the center of it, and then the statue spoke to her! It was a lovely voice, full of power and compassion, and it assured her that Tarrin had survived. That he was alive, and that he and Allia were much closer to her than she thought. Right about then, she woke up, but the powerful clarity of the dream had attached itself to her consciousness, and she found that she had to believe it. That had taken a tremendous burden off of her heart, and though a little part of her wouldn't accept it until she saw Tarrin standing in front of her, the rest of her found comfort in it. She had the feeling that it was Tarrin's mysterious Goddess that was doing it. Keritanima herself didn't hold much salt with gods. They hadn't answered all her prayers when she prayed for her family to stop fighting with each other. But this Goddess seemed a bit different. She was supposedly bound to her by the fact that she was a Sorcerer, but she really didn't hold much salt for that either. This Goddess had never spoken to her, never helped her.

At least until then. She didn't know if it was the Goddess of the Sorcerers, and she really didn't care. She just knew that Tarrin had made it, and that had brought peace to her. It wasn't enough to calm her completely, for there was still the doubt, the uncertainty, and the fury at being treated in such a callous fashion.

The fury of helplessness and fear had been replaced by a burning anger towards her father, and a savage intent to pay him back for his interference in kind. They were sailing back to Wikuna, back to her father, and back to his world. Back to a world of intrigue and backbiting, where nobody could be trusted and anyone could be aiming a dagger at your back the instant you turn around. Where she had more to fear from her father and sisters than anyone else in Wikuna. Her fury had evolved into a cold, almost pure hatred, a hatred of her father and everything he stood for, a hatred of what she had left behind. And now she had to go back into it. Thrown back into the pit of fire, without the support and presence of her brother and sister to ease her pain or calm her fears. She was going back alone, so terribly alone.

Miranda had become a complete crutch for her. The mink Wikuni was her oldest friend, and without her siblings, she was the only one Keritanima could turn to with her thoughts and fears, the only ear she trusted to share her burdens. Miranda's quiet presence with her for so long had given her insights into Keritanima that only Tarrin and Allia knew, and she was able to calm Keritanima down, make her feel a little better, if only for a little while. Binter and Sisska tried to help, but there was only so much they could do. Their devotion wasn't to her, it was to their roles as bodyguards and protectors. They were fond of Keritanima, and she trusted them, but it just wasn't the same. Azakar--poor Zak. She didn't know him as well as she probably should, but it was clear to her that he felt lost. The only human on a ship full of Wikuni, facing their arrogance and scorn every time he turned around. Yet he stood up to it with a quiet dignity that impressed her, comfortable in the fact that he was a Knight, he had people who respected him...and he could probably thrash anyone on the ship except for Binter and Sisska any time he wanted. Azakar helped her in his own way by just being someone nearby, someone to play a game of chess with, or yell at when she needed to vent, or stand guard over her when Binter and Sisska weren't capable of it. That her Vendari bodyguards would trust him with her protection said everything that needed to be said about how they felt about him. He was a bit quiet, but then again, he had once been a slave, so being quiet and not drawing attention to himself were probably ingrained habits he'd yet to break.

Then Tarrin had contacted her. To say she was relieved was an understatement. For the first time in over a week, she had been truly happy, had felt complete relief. There was her absolute proof that Tarrin was alright, that he was going to be alright. To hear his voice, then hear Allia, had made her feel whole again, to feel close to those who were far away. She couldn't help but stroke the silver amulet around her neck any time she thought about her brother and sister. She hadn't contacted them since that day, but just knowing that she could, at any time, put her fingers to the amulet and hear their voices gave her a feeling of tremendous security. It wasn't a good idea to abuse the amulet, to make it plain that she had that ability. It would just give the spies watching her opportunities to try to separate her from her amulet, and that she absolutely would not allow. So long as they didn't know how she was communicating with her brother and sister, she was happy. The very thought of one of them taking her amulet horrified her. It was her only link to her family, to those who loved her, and she would defend it tooth and claw, defend it to the death.

Her mind free of the crushing fear and worry, it had turned to the other business at hand. Revenge. She wasn't foolish enough to deny the fact that vengeance was very much on her mind. This was something that she couldn't allow to go unpunished. Her father had abused her, neglected her, even tried to kill her. But to rip her away from the people she loved, to take her away from the only place where she had felt happy...that was just going too far.

When she got back to Wikuna, there was going to be hell to pay.

As much as the thought of barging into her father's study and frying him like a chicken appealed to her, made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, she knew it would never work. That was the easy way, the childish way, and it would get her killed. No, Damon Eram wasn't going to get away as easily as just dying. Keritanima intended to destroy him, to take away or remove everything he cherished, everything he held dear, everything he coveted in this world. And knowing her father, she already knew what those things were.

His crown, his power, and his fortune, in that order.

To completely repay her father, she intended to take away everything that he held dear. That meant that she was going to take his throne, destroy his network of power, then have him ostracized from the Eram house. Then she was going to fix it so he lived a long and miserable life, a life where his failures and his losses would howl in his brain and drive him mad with each new dawn, only so she could heal his madness and make him face it again the next day. Just killing her father wasn't good enough.

Allia had often remarked that revenge was an art form, and those who performed it well were honorable. She would make her sister proud of her.

Of course, Damon Eram would be expecting such tactics. At least the attempt to overthrow him from the throne. That was why she had to start on another track. Undercutting his power was a good first step. Her ordered round of assassinations before she left the Tower had proabably done half of that job, and he most likely still wouldn't be fully recovered when she got there next month. What it was going to take to get him would be a bloodbath, a bloodbath of monumental proportions. She would have to eliminate absolutely anyone that supported him on the throne, leaving nothing but a nobility full of those seeking his throne in its stead. After that was done, she would see to it that he lost his crown.

It was so ironic. She had fled from Wikuna, had orchestrated one of the most elaborate and convoluted plots ever conceived, just to get away from the responsibilty of the crown. But now, the only way to ensure that nobody came after her after she was finished was if she was sitting on the throne. No matter who took the throne, they would see her as a threat, and try to kill her, or kill them as a way of getting at her. And she wasn't going to be bringing a pack of assassins back to her brother and sister. No, when she went back, there would be no spectre of Wikuna hanging over her. The only way to assure that was if she was the one doing the commanding. The throne would be the only safe place for her, the only place where she could protect her family.

All those years of planning to avoid the throne, and now she was coming back to take it.

The nobility would not like that. Her past plans were now salt in her wounds, and they would make it more difficult to hold the throne, especially if she wasn't there to babysit them and keep them out of trouble. They hated her, mainly because she had went out of her way to make things that way. No, she would have to do something about them too. But not until after she dealt with her father. Their threat looming over him would be central to her own plans to strip him of his crown.

The throne was the key. Sitting on that throne, she could drive the last stakes into her father's heart. She would be the matriarch of the Eram house, ruler of it, and she could have him and her sisters stripped of their titles, disowned, and cast out without a penny to their names. They would always be royalty, however, and would always be there to challenge her for the crown. But there were ways to persuade them that such lofty aspirations could be hazardous to their health.

Killing her father wasn't enough. When she was done, he was going to wish he had never ignored her warning to leave her alone.

She felt the presence of someone very large behind her. The fact that she didn't hear the clattering of claws told her it was Azakar. She glanced behind her and saw him. He was wearing a simple brown doublet and some rugged leather leggings, a heavy wool cloak over his shoulder to ward off the rain, but he had that wickedly huge broadsword belted at his waist. To anyone else, it would be a two-handed sword, but he whipped that thing around in one hand like it was a twig. She often forgot how awesome Azakar was, since he himself was dwarfed by her Vendari bodyguards. "Binter sent me up here to get you," Azakar said quietly to her. "You've stood out in the rain long enough."

"You don't have to look out for me, Zak," she said quietly, looking back out over the ocean again.

"I'm a Knight," he said bluntly. "One of my jobs is to protect Sorcerers. You happen to be the only one around, so that makes you my responsibility. Now come in out of the rain, or I'll carry you back down to your cabin."

"You're exaggerating, Zak," she said wistfully. "I'll be down in a few more minutes. I need time to think, that's all, and I do it better up here."

"Then I'll wait for you," he announced.

She looked at him, looked at the resolute look on his face, then snorted. "Oh, alright!" she snapped. "Let's go, already!"

She returned to her large suite in a foul humor. Sailor's Pride wasn't a warship, it was a personal conveyance ship. Its only job was to carry the rulers of the Eram house from one place to another, and because of that, the ship was much different from a standard clipper. It had a very tiny hold, and that space had been converted into rooms and barracks for the crew, the soldiers accompanying the rulers, and the rulers and their guests. Keritanima's cabin, or suite of three rooms, took up the entire stern of the clipper. Two rooms wasn't much on land, but on a ship, where space was a precious commodity, it was an immense chunk of floorplan. The rooms were large and extravagantly decorated, with gilded gold furniture, tapestries from all over the world, Eastern carpets, and Tellurian lamps and lanterns for light. The bedroom she slept in, with its marvelous stained glass windows looking out in the stern, was large enough for ten people, the bed itself large enough for four, and it spanned the entire width of the stern. There were chests and armoires, even a privy and a closet, all of them filled with expensive clothes and jewelry bought for her when they put into Dayisè for supplies. Clothes she wouldn't touch. She still wore the same dress she'd had on when they captured her, and she had no intention of wearing their clothes. Miranda was in the middle of making her some dresses from material she managed to get in Dayisè. She was there, in her favorite chair, her fingers moving with their amazing speed and precision as her needle and thread joined together two pieces of dark satin that were her dress. Binter and Sisska sat nearby, engaged in another game of chess, and Azakar took her wet cloak and hung it by the door before removing his own. Her friends, her only friends, on the entire ship.

"Highness," Miranda said calmly without looking up. "I'll have this dress finished in about an hour."

"Thank you, Miranda," Keritanima said with a huff of breath. "Binter, Sisska," she called.

The two Vendari looked at her in unison, two sets of dead black eyes that sent chills through the opponents they faced in combat. Keritanima absently touched the Weave, weaving together that weave of Air and Divine power that formed the wall of silence, the Ward that protected their conversations from being overheard. Wards and Illusions were the only weaves a Sorcerer could create that didn't dissipate when they stopped concentrating on them, but even those weren't permanent. She then wove together the complicated weave of Air, Fire, Mind, and Divine power that formed an Illusion. She wove it so it would appear as a wall of impenetrable blackness and laid it against the walls of the cabin, then adjusted it so it could only be seen from the other side looking in. To everyone in the cabin, it was invisible, but to someone standing on the outside looking in, they would see nothing but pure black. "Which of you has more rank in Vendari society?"

"I do, your Highness," Sisska answered immediately.

"How much?"

"I am kithas," she answered, a little uncertainly.

A kithas? Impressive. That meant she was blood-related to the sashka, or Great Chief, of the Vendari, a monarch that was subject to the Wikuni throne. "What I'm about to say won't be repeated again, alright?" she asked, and everyone nodded. "When we get back to Wikuna, I want you to go back to Vendaka, Sisska. I want you to go back there and organize something for me."

"What do you wish arranged?"

"I'd like a large complement of Vendari warriors to come to the Palace," she answered. "Vendari that will be there to protect the crown. At least ten thousand."

"This I can do, but it will look strange to the sashka that this comes from the Princess, and not the King."

"Then don't tell him who gave the order," she said. "Tell him the truth. That the house of Eram is calling up Vendari warriors, as is its right under the compact between Wikuna and Vendaka. And Sisska, I don't want you to repeat that to anyone but the sashka. I want it kept quiet."

Miranda gave Keritanima a searching look, and then she began to laugh. "I knew it!" she proclaimed.

"Knew what?" Azakar asked curiously.

"Kerri isn't going to go back and just play around!" she laughed, pounding her feet on the floor. "She's going to overthrow her father!"

Azakar gave Keritanima a shocked look, and even the Vendari looked a little taken aback.

"Is this true?" Binter asked bluntly.

Keritanima gave Binter a direct stare, her expression serene but determined. "He's gone too far, Binter," she said plainly. "And I mean more than just what he's done to me. The throne has lost its honor."

Binter and Sisska nodded sagely. "This is true," Binter agreed. "The throne of Wikuna has lost much honor. But to take it just to avenge yourself against your father brings even more shame to it."

"Who would you prefer on the throne, then? Him, or me?"

The simple question caused the massive Vendari to blink. Then he gave a toothy grin. "My personal preference would be you," he replied honestly. A Vendari couldn't answer any way other than honestly. "Your time with Tarrin and Allia has taught you humility, compassion, and respect. You would be a worthy and honorable Queen."

"Then I can count on your silence?"

"We are at your command, Highness," Sisska told her. "Command it, and it will be so."

"I'd prefer your blessing," she said earnestly.

"Our blessings are irrelevant."

"Not to me," she said. "I know that guarding me has been something of a chore for you, but I see you as more than just the people that keep me whole. You're my friends, and I won't do this unless you agree to it."

Binter and Sisska looked at each other, then they stood. Sisska answered for them. "Then you have our blessings, Highness," she announced. "We will help as much as our Code permits."

"All you have to do is get those Vendari warriors to Wikuna in three months," she replied. "That's all I ask of you."

"They will be there," Sisska said with an eloquent nod.

"What about me?" Azakar asked.

"With Sisska going home, I'll need you to take her place," Keritanima told the young Knight evenly. "Sisska oftens accompanies Miranda. That'll be your job when we get back. You just go with her and keep someone from sticking things in her, or shooting her. Until then, Zak, I need you to be silent. What we're about to start could get all of us killed if word leaks out."

"I can keep quiet, Highness," Azakar assured her. "On my honor as a Knight, I'll not betray your trust, by word or by deed." Binter and Sisska gave the young Knight approving looks at that, and Keritanima knew that he had only improved his standing with them that much more. Honor was life to the Vendari.

"I take it you want me to help you with the plan?" Miranda asked.

Keritanima nodded. "I've already got the framework thought out," she answered. "I just need some help with the particulars."

"I do hope you're not going to just kill him when we arrive."

"Oh, no," she suddenly seethed, holding out a hand with her short, sharp claws exaggerated. "He's going to pay for what he's done to me. I'm not going to kill him, Miranda. I want him to be alive to taste defeat. When I'm done, he'll wish he was dead."

"At least Tarrin and Allia didn't spoil you that way," Miranda said with a teasing smile. "Let me finish this dress, and we'll talk about it."

Life aboard a ship on the open sea was a tedium of monotony. Every day, the same view awaited them, and often the same meals were served. The people they saw were the same people day after day, and the sounds and smells aboard a ship rarely changed from the norm of daily business. But for the crew and the Marines aboard Sailor's Pride, the norm became abject terror.

It came from many sources, but the prime source of it was Princess Keritanima-Chan Eram. All she did all day was sit on a stool near the bow with a writing slate in her lap. She would sit there for hours on end, ignoring food, ignoring the weather, only leaving when darkness forced her below decks. She would sit there with a blank piece of parchment, a Tellurian pen, and a frightful look of seething hatred burned across her features. To the collective knowledge of the entire crew and Marine complement on board the ship, she did not once put pen to paper and write out even one word for nearly ten days. The men had no idea what she meant to write, but many of them quietly speculated that it was going to be a list of the people she was going to kill when they returned to Wikuna. Others thought it was going to be a will, but most of them believed that she intended to take her father with her when she died. That she was furious enough to kill anyone who irritated her was plainly known aboard ship, and anyone with even half a brain avoided the bow like the plague. It got so bad that the ship's captain, a bandy old bull Wikuni called Longshanks, ordered the foremast's sails furled and the spinnaker drawn in. He couldn't get sailors to go tend them, and he wasn't about to have them flapping in the breeze like a harlot's petticoats hanging on a line.

But then the fury left her face, and she began to write. Nobody could get close enough to see what she was writing. Nobody was that crazy. The girl seemed to have an almost supernatural ability to know when people were watching her, and whenever she sensed it, she stopped writing and covered her work with a leather portfolio cover. Many sailors refused to even speculate, for they believed it was a list of soon to be deceased individuals, and they didn't want their names added to the bottom of it. They did get just a bit curious when she just wrote, and wrote, and wrote. For days, she wrote, at a pace that seemed desperate at times, penning page after page after page of some unknown, mysterious literature. She kept those penned pages with her at all times in a small satchel that never left her sight, and the contents of that satchel became the object of intense curiosity as the time passed, and the sailors and men got more accustommed to their rather unusual passenger.

But she wasn't the only thing to worry about. Never more than two feet away from her were those Vendari monsters. Bigger than anyone on ship, even a bear Wikuni, those two ninefoot tall walking destroyers kept everyone away from the dainty Princess, threatening a gruesome end to any foolish enough to look at her strangely. Even stripped of their weapons, not a single man would think of trying to cross them, unless he had a cannon hidden in his pants. A single Vendari in a Wikuni army formation was usually enough to turn the tide of battle in their favor. Two of them, on a ship with only so much deck space and only so many places to hide, was enough to make even the most grizzled Marine wet himself at the thought of getting either of them upset, or doing something that would make the Princess sic them on him.

The only one of the unusual passengers the Wikuni would even come close to harassing, annoying, or otherwise irritating was the human. But this was no ordinary human, so it made the game a great deal more dangerous than normal, and much less fun. A seven and a half foot tall hulk of a human, as big as some bear Wikuni, and stonger than two Wikuni combined. The fact that the two Vendari seemed to like him, would train him on the open spaces of the deck during daylight, said a great deal as to where his loyalties lay. And he was strong. The first man to step over the line and say one thing too many had found that out. The human had belted him a good one, picked him up, then tossed him over the rail, forcing one of the trailing ships to fish the dazed Wikuni out of the sea. He spent most of his time sheparding around the Princess' cute little maid. She was the only available female on the ship, and would have had a howling pack of suitors if it wasn't for that monstrous human defending her like she was his little sister. And he was very protective of her, more than apt to smack down any Wikuni that got too adventurerous with the little mink's anatomy. Knowing that she was safely shielded from any kind of retaliation, the maid would mercilessly tease, taunt, torture, and harangue the sailors and Marines, driving them wild with her cheeky grin and her willingness to show more fur than was entirely appropriate, and always retreating behind the safety of her human protector when her victims saw just a little too much for their own good.

The five of them were quite the unusual passengers, but even their tremendous importance and status dulled as the days dragged out. The sailors got used to the Princess sitting with her slate and pen, writing out what seemed to be an entire book full of pages whose contents were a jealously guarded mystery. They worked around the Vendari and the human, and learned that the little maid was twice as nasty as any sailor ever was, and was more than willing to drive one to the edge of madness, only to let her human bodyguard put an end to any advances the sailor may make on her. They learned to leave her alone, more than one learning the hard way. The last one had been buried at sea after the little mink sank a foot of steel poinard into his gut when he decided not to take no for an answer. The fact that he was found in her room said everything that needed to be said about what he was doing.

To a man, the entire complement of sailors and Marines tried feverishly to figure out just where she was hiding that pigsticker. Her dresses weren't daringly low-cut, but they were rather form- hugging, leaving no really good place to hide a long dagger like a poinard.

There were some things to break up the monotony. There were a few deaths, either caused by the Vendari, the human, or by the little maid herself as some Wikuni got a bit too adventurous. The ship's priest mysteriously vanished some twenty days into the voyage, coming up missing one morning. Nobody saw him all night, nobody heard any splash that would hint that he jumped overboard, and there was no sign of struggle in his room. Indeed, there was no sign that he'd even slept in his bed. He had simply vanished like smoke. Of course, the Princess and her complement were immediately suspected, but they were all closely watched. None of them had left their rooms at all during the entire night, nor had anyone spoken to them or delivered any messages to them. It was a mystery, one that Captain Longshanks did not like at all.

It only deepened when the replacement priest, borrowed from one of the other ships, also disappeared without a trace some six days after the first. Again, there was no sign of struggle, no evidence of foul play, and nobody saw the Wikuni at all during the night of his disappearance. Again, there was no possible way that any of the passengers could have perpetrated or arranged the disappearance, so there was little that they could do. It did, however, ensure that no priest on any of the remaining ships would set foot on Sailor's Pride. For the first time in its entire history, the flagship sailed without a priest of Kikkali aboard.

It was the monotony of any other day, at least until their convoy was met by a single Wikuni frigate. It tied up with Sailor's Pride in the open sea, and a strange little Wikuni transferred aboard. He was short and frumpy, a rabbit Wikuni with wide bucked teeth and a ridiculous pair of large, floppy ears. He wore a waistcoat and breeches of sober gray, and the gold chain of a pocketwatch hung from the pocket of the vest he wore beneath his coat. A couple of men identified the Wikuni as Jervis, the King's lead spy and head of his intelligence organization. He boarded with his own small retinue, some five Wikuni, including two who wore the robe and cassock of priests.

This Wikuni's appearance was a clear sign that things were not as they appeared. He had brought his own priests, and they didn't seem to be afraid. Everyone on the ship suspected that the Princess had something to do with the disappearances of the other two priests, but nobody could prove anything. They all thought that Jervis was there to find out.

Some of the sailors were on hand to listen to the initial exchange between Jervis and the Princess. They hung nearby from the rigging or performed tasks as close as they could get when the frumpy rabbit Wikuni approached the Princess, who was seated in her customary place near the bow with her slate, pen, and parchment, writing whatever it was she was writing. She stopped before the rabbit could get withing twenty feet of her, placing the parchment in the satchel at her feet, capping her pen, and giving the spy a cool look as he approached her.

"Keritanima, I presume," he said in a lilting voice, the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. "The real Keritanima, anyway."

"I was never fake, Jervis," she replied in a calm voice. "The Brat was as much a part of me as this is."

"And who am I addressing now?"

"Me."

"Ah. I see you're going to be difficult."

"Did you expect anything less?"

Jervis chuckled. "Not really. I must say, I was quite impressed by your letter. Have I been playing against you all these years, or against Miranda?"

"Me at first. Once Miranda got comfortable, you were facing both of us."

"No doubt that's why I never quite seemed to be able to win," he chuckled. "Miranda is bad enough by herself."

"She's been a good friend, and a good partner," Keritanima said with quiet respect, setting the slate down against the bulwark. "Did my father send for you to watch me?"

"It would be silly for me to deny it, your Highness," he replied easily. "The, ah, misplacement of the priests on board has disrupted the flow of messages reaching him about you."

"I rather guess that it would," she said with a strange little challenge in her voice. "I only have two words of advice for you, Jervis. Stay out of my way, and respect my privacy. I'm in no mood to play with anyone right now. If you annoy me too much, I may forget my cultured upbringing and do something unpleasant to you."

"I'm sure her Highness means it, but I have orders from someone higher up the ladder than you," he told her.

"It's your decision," she shrugged. She looked at him and picked up her slate, then reached at him with one hand in a strange gesture. Jervis squeaked in shock when his feet rose off the deck, and he hung suspended in midair. "Where would you like to land?" she asked conversationally.

"Setting me down where I was would be most appreciated, Highness," he said with just a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

She pulled her hand back, and Jervis dropped to the deck, let go by whatever invisible hand had grabbed him. "There won't be another reprieve, Jervis," she said bluntly. "I am in no mood for your games. Cross me, and I will be the last person you cross. Stay out of my way, and there's no reason why we can't be civil to one another."

"Your Highness has made her point," Jervis said with a slightly quivering voice.

"Good. I'm also in no mood to repeat myself."

"This is very unlike you, your Highness."

"You never knew me from the start, Jervis," she retorted. "How do you really know what is unlike me?"

"The girl I played against in Wikuna told me much of you, Highness," he said easily. "Cold-blooded murder wasn't your style."

"I learned all sorts of new things from the Tower, and from my brother and sister," she told him with a penetrating stare. "I think I'm done talking to you, Jervis. Go away."

"As you wish, Highness," he said with a bow.

"And Jervis."

"Yes, Highness?"

"Tell my father that I haven't forgotten what I wrote in that letter. And he'd better not either."

Jervis blanched. "As you command, your Highness," he replied, bowing again.

That sent the rumors flying among the sailors. A couple of the more adventurous ones managed to find out which cabin was Jervis', and that he had a magical mirror that allowed him to speak directly to the King. Those same sailors managed to arrange themselves so they could hear what Jervis reported back to the King.

It had taken place later that same night. The Princess and her retinue had retired for the evening to their rooms, and Jervis had quartered his own staff and the priests, making sure the priests had one Marine guard to watch them and make sure they didn't disappear during the night. It was after he took his evening meal that he contacted King Damon Eram, ruler of Wikuna. The two sailors doing the eavesdropping stood behind the door as Jervis' voice greeted the monarch, a monarch whose strong voice was irritated and a bit unstable.

"What is it now, Jervis?" Damon Eram demanded. "Are you there yet?"

"I have arrived, Majesty," Jervis replied mildly. "I spoke to your daughter, as you requested."

"Well?"

"She intends to kill you, Majesty," he said bluntly. "I think it would be wise to have the captain turn this ship around and put her back on Sennadar."

That made the two sailors gape at each other, hands over muzzles to prevent blurting out anything that would give them away.

"I can handle her, Jervis," he said bluntly.

"You could handle her, but I doubt you can handle her power, Majesty," Jervis stated. "She is a Sorceress, and from what I gathered at the Tower, she is a Sorceress of exceptional power and ability. I have little doubt she is behind the disappearances of the priests aboard ship. She wouldn't have to leave her cabin to kill them with her magic. She could kill you from a hundred yards, Majesty. In the interest of the Royal person, I highly suggest you do not bring her back to Wikuna. You'll be signing your own death warrant."

"No," he seethed. "She's coming back to answer for what she did to me! And she's coming back because this is where she belongs!"

"As you command, but I want it known that I protest the decision."

"Protest all you want, Jervis, you're not changing it," he snorted. "She's your problem until she gets here. Handle her."

"Your Majesty is too kind," Jervis drawled, then he blew out his breath and cleared his throat. The two sailors, thinking that the audience was at an end, scrambled away quickly and quietly and reported their gossip to the other sailors.

That gossip floated around, going from sailor to Marine and Marine to sailor, until it finally had managed to drift to the ears of Miranda. The mink, hearing it while playing a game of kiss and tell with a rather handsome leopard Wikuni Marine, relayed the content of the message back to Keritanima as they sat eating breakfast the next morning. Keritanima gave her maid a calm look after learning what transpired between Jervis and her father, then she smiled. "Good," she announced. "That's exactly what I wanted him to hear."

"Explain why losing the trump card of getting him with Sorcery is a good thing," Miranda asked curiously.

"Because I'm not going to kill him, Miranda," she answered sedately. "But if thinks I mean to, he'll waste precious time and resources protecting himself against it. Those are resources we don't have to outmaneuver when the time comes to do things for real."

"Ah. Personally, I think broadcasting what you can do is a bit excessive."

"It's something Jervis already knows. He would tell everyone eventually. Best to get it in the open now."

"Clever."

"Thank you," she smiled. "Pass the biscuits, will you?"

Rumor spread to the other ships as they travelled west, and those rumors ended up in messages sent by priests back to the homeland. The rumors spread in the streets of Wikuna, the kingdom's capital, and as rumors tended to do, they got wildly exaggerated and out of control. But the rumors served their own purpose in Keritanima's plan, when they reached the ears of the heads of the twenty-nine Great Houses of the Wikuni nobility. Twentyeight of those men and women heard the rumors, realized that they had some basis in truth, and then began thinking of ways they could benefit from the fateful final meeting of father and daughter. More than one dreamed of wresting the Sun Throne away from the house of Eram. And they began to make plans of their own.

Time aboard a ship, even a ship with such dangerous individuals, tends to blur as days pass to weeks that pass into months. For over a month, the convoy of Wikuni ships sailed west, due west, with very little change happening aboard ship. The spy Jervis did seem to back off from the Princess, giving her all the space she seemed to want to continue with her endless writing. The satchel at her feet expanded in volume with each passing day, and still its contents remained a complete mystery. Some sailors managed to discover that Jervis had made several attempts to procure the satchel, but each ended in disaster. It also caused the deaths of the three non-priest Wikuni that had boarded with him, as they were killed in the act of trying to get their hands on the satchel or read their contents. After losing his three colleagues, Jervis seemed to lose all interest in making yet another attempt. The way he looked at the Princess changed over the days, days of terse comments between them, as the rabbit tried to get the Princess to open up and talk to him, and she threatened him with physical or magical violence every time he got on her nerves. Because she most certainly had the power to kill him instantly any time she wished, the rabbit Wikuni was wise in backing off whenever the Princess' hackles started to rise.

Aside from the fatalities among the spy's group, there was little more to make the voyage exceptional. The convoy, too large to be challenged by pirates, Zakkites, or singular trading ships that they encountered, continued west under nearly full sail, racing for a date with destiny. The presence of her Highness, her retinue, and Jervis became routine to the sailors and Marines guarding them, a routine of fear of the groups and a tense feeling that the entire ship could explode into chaos at any moment. The sailors that managed to eavesdrop on Jervis' communications with the King were disappointed that his report rarely changed from day to day. Each report said little more than the Princess was continuing with her writing, he had no way to find out what she was writing, and then he would report how many times that day the Princess had threatened to execute him. Damon Eram was highly unhappy each time he received the report, demanding to Jervis he find out, but was at a loss when the rabbit calmly asked who would take his place when Keritanima killed him. The daily report seemed to take its toll on the frumpy, buck-toothed rabbit Wikuni, his fur shedding at a frightful rate and his eyes sinking into his head as the days passed. His spotless waistcoats and trousers became wrinkled and slightly unkempt, and his face showed the strain of being trapped between the demanding monarch and his dangerous daughter.

For everyone on the ship, the first sighting of land, of Wikuna, was an event of titanic relief. For the sailors and Marines, it was a material reminder that they would only have their unusual passengers aboard for ten more days, the time it would take to skirt the coast and reach the capital city of Wikuna. For Jervis, it seemed even more of a relief, a stark assurance that his difficult position would not last much longer. Even the Princess seemed releived and enthusiastic about seeing her homeland, but the dreadful look of malicious eagerness on her face frightened those who glimpsed it as the crew and passengers assembled on deck to marvel at the forested coastline of southern Wikuna.

With the sighting of land, the convoy turned north, carried along by stiff southerly winds blowing before one of the mighty hurricanes that were common in the Sea of Storms during the summer. That black mass hung behind them like the shroud of Death, threatening the ships with destruction should they not flee before its might. To the relief of most on the ship, the hurricane turned inland, to swamp the land, rather than continue north and threaten their convoy. Some of the sailors were on hand to overhear the Princess talk about it with her strange human companion, as they stood at the stern and looked back at the leading edge of the storm. They both wore heavy, waterproof cloaks to protect them from the occasional squall lines that raked over the formation of ships.

"How did they know it was there?" he asked her curiously. "And why give it a special name?"

"Think of a hurricane as a gigantic storm," she replied calmly. "Sometimes they can get to be the size of a large island. Their winds can rip trees out of the ground." She pulled her satchel up under her cloak as the rain hit again. "The priests on board know magic that predicts the weather, as well as locates storms and threats to a ship on the sea. That way, Wikuni ships can navigate around dangerous areas."

"So those winds are why we've pulled up half our sails, but we're going faster than we were two days ago."

Keritanima nodded. "If the captain were to put on full sail, it would tear the masts out of the deck."

"I guess the priests know where it's going, so it's safe for us to go on."

She nodded again. "The magic of weather forecasting is pretty demanding for a priest, but it's gotten to be very accurate."

"How long did it take your people to learn about sailing?"

"We've always been sailors," she replied, looking down into the water. "Since the beginning of our history. I guess it's in our blood. We've arranged our entire society and our priest magic to center around sailing and trade."

"Such single-mindedness isn't a good thing, Kerri."

"Maybe not, but we do have craftsmen and workers, same as any other nation, Zak. Actually, we're a bit more advanced than the human kingdoms, but we don't trade or transport our technology off of Wikuna. Well, except for our pact to trade gunpowder to Shacè in exchange for the sulphur they mine from their volcano. We have gunpowder and cannons, muskets and other things. you'll see them when we get to Wikuna. We just make our living off trade, and to trade, we have to be able to sail." She glanced at him. "But hey, maybe we'll branch out," she said with a toothy grin. "Maybe it's time for Wikuna to stop sitting on its high horse, and share with the rest of the world."

"Wouldn't be a bad idea," the human agreed, looking at the land. "Pretty coastline. What's it like there?"

"Hot," she replied. "The hurricane's wind has cooled things down, but it gets hot down here. The main staples of this region of Wikuna is rice, sugar cane, and they also have good ship-quality timber."

"How big is Wikuna?"

"Well, the island is more like a continent, Zak," she replied. "Wikuna is just about the size of western Sennadar. Everything below the Skydancer mountains, and from the coast to the Sandshield. Wikuna is just a bit larger than that."

"Wow. A single kingdom owns as much land as the entire West."

"Alot of it is uninhabited, though," she admitted. "Wilderness dominates the inner regions. We've populated all the coastlines and moved inland a good distance, we populated the Island of the Heart and the Sea of Crowns, but the heart of Wikuna is mostly unexplored."

"Guess there are no seas there," he chuckled.

"I think that may be part of it," she agreed with a grin.

"It would be fun to explore it," he said dreamily. "To brave the unknown, to trek into dark lands and find out what's there."

"Why Zak, you sound like you have the soul of an adventurer."

"When I was a slave, I used to dream of running away, to some place they'd never find me," he said quietly, wanly. "Slavery is boring, Kerri. You spend your whole life in one place doing the same things over and over, and the entire world is denied to you. I guess a part of me will always look for someplace never disturbed by a man's boot. When I escaped from the arena, it made me flee west, and then it made me petition the Knights. They go all over the world, they get to see and do new and interesting things. Now that I'm free, I just want to go see what's behind the next hill."

The Princess cozied up to the huge human, grabbing his massive arm in her delicate hands and leaning against it. "Someday, Zak. Maybe some day, you'll get that chance."

"Maybe someday," he agreed. "But for right now, I'm content to stand with you."

"I'm glad to have you. So is Miranda. She really likes you."

"She's a bit wild, but I can deal with her."

"Both of us are a bit wild," she winked. "She's just wild in different ways, that's all. I have a temper, but Miranda loves to play games with men. She's a born heartbreaker."

"Don't you ever think of playing games with men?"

"Maybe later," she smiled. "Right now, I have more important things on my mind."

Though little was read into their conversation, the gist of it spread through the ship quickly. It wasn't often that the sailors heard the Princess speaking in such an informal and calm manner.

The ten days in sight of land passed quickly, until the massive city of Wikuna appeared on the horizon. It was the oldest of all Wikuni cities, said to be the first city of their kind, full of old stone buildings of ancient appearance mingled in with newer architectural designs. The jewel of the city was the huge Royal Palace, built on top of a hill at the center of the city, allowing the golden dome of the main structure rise above all and amaze the spectator with its majestic might and power. The city was far to the north, and the steeply sloped roofs of the city's buildings demonstrated the need to have buildings capable of shunting off the weight of snow. The hightlight of the city was the huge, deep harbor, protected by three massive coastal fortresses and with a single large island right at the center of the outside edge, allowing the two channels into the harbor to be heavily defended. Those channels were narrow and restrictive, allowing no more than one ship at a time to pass through them because of the daunting stone walls built out from the central island to narrow the entrances. The city had no walls to protect it from a land attack, a fact that a visitor from Sennadar would certainly notice quickly. But what it lost with a wall, it gained in sheer size. The city was huge, was probably home to nearly a half million Wikuni, and it sprawled out from the harbor and the Palace like the gray blanket of a god, dominating the land in every direction from the Palace.

The sailors assembled on deck when the ship docked at a private quay used only by the Royal Family. It stood at the end of a wide avenue that ran straight through the city, straight to the Palace itself. Fifty mounted Marines waited at the end of the quay with a large covered carriage. A footservant stood by the carriage, waiting for the High Princess to take her leave of the ship and return to her former life.

There was little fanfare in it. The Princess and her four companions walked down the gangplank, across the quay, and entered the large carriage, a carriage brought with the Vendari in mind. And then it and its escort trotted away.

The sailors had no idea what had just occurred. They had no inkling of the significance of the event when Keritanima's feet stepped back onto Wikuni soil. They went back to their duties, relieved beyond measure to have the volatile Princess off Sailor's Pride and out of their fur.

They had no idea that her dainty feet setting foot on Wikuni soil would create shockwaves that would shake the world.

It was all so strange, yet so familiar.

Keritanima walked along extravagantly decorated hallways, wide and spacious, the hallways of the Royal Palace. She never dreamed that she'd be there again, to stand in the hallways where she used to play as a child, hallways that had lost their innocence when Sabakimara crusaded to drive Keritanima mad. Hallways that had heard many secrets, had seen many murders and assassinations. If only those walls could talk. She had never dreamed she would see those hallways again when she last looked upon them, even had convinced herself that her father wouldn't go through with it and bring her back when they were on the ship. But there she stood, staring up at a massive portrait of Thalos Eram, the first Eram king in the current Eram dynasty. Her grandfather, six times removed. Seven kings of the Eram house had sat upon the throne of Wikuna, the seven kings who had increased the stakes of politics in Wikuna by killing and blackmailing to hold the throne. Thalos Eram had been the first, the first to teach the house of Eram all about the advantages of murder in politics, the first of a long line of bloody monarchs who killed any who challenged their rule.

Five hundred years. Five hundred long bloody years, five centuries that degenerated Wikuna from a monarchy to a totalitarian state. There was no longer a king in Wikuna, there was an overlord. Damon Eram was the master of this land, and he ruled it with an iron fist, with no regards to the people he destroyed or the lives he annihilated to maintain his crown, to increase his power, and to enhance the fortunes of both himself and the house of Eram.

There was quite a bit of pain wrapped up in that simple portrait. And not all of it was just hers. The house of Eram was responsible for the slaughter of thousands, from nobles to workers to innocents, killed to further the aims of the house. That was quite a bit of blood to be responsible for. It was part of the reason she had run away from her home, from her first family. She had never told the others about the extent of the savagery of her house, of her family. She had been ashamed of them, of her past. It was a deeply personal pain, a pain not even Miranda could feel. To know that she was descended from murderers and coldblooded monsters was a sobering epiphany. She herself had proven to be little better than them. She had been forced to play their games to survive, to fend off the attacks and plots of her three sisters. She had tried hard not to do any permanent harm to them. But then, after the Brat was born, Jenawalani managed to kill Sabakimara and put Keritanima at the head of the line. It was a brilliant move, she had to admit, to place the one daughter that looked insuitable to rule in the role of High Princess, to get the other noble houses to help kill her off to prevent an incompetent from taking the throne. But Jenawalani had underestimated her. So had all the others. She had played their games, played them and beaten them time and time again, beaten them while continuing to pose as a scatterbrained shill.

But the games would stop. So would the killing. Keritanima had a plan to deal with that, and that plan coincided with her plan to destroy her father. She had five hundred years to answer for, and she was going to stand up and be responsible for that debt.

The servants in the hallways greeted the Princess with a thin veneer of submissiveness. They all hated her, thought she was a brat, an image she had carefully cultivated in them. They had no reason to change that opinion, and in a way, it felt rather refreshing to be treated that way again. That conception would change over time, but at least it was the one thing that didn't seem tainted by her time away, and the knowledge that Wikuna now knew about her. The nobility, on the other hand, did nothing but stare at her with unmasked curiosity and questioning. They knew who she really was, but many of them wouldn't completely believe it until they spoke to her personally.

The steward escorting them, along with ten Royal Guardsmen, Marines selected because of their outstanding service or their political affiliations, led them through the hallways of the palace in relative silence, aside from the occasional greeting, curtsy or bow from those they passed. They then reached Keritnaima's apartments, which were on the fifth floor of the Palace in the center of the eastern wall, giving the rooms abutting the outer wall a spectacular view of the harbor. The steward, the name of whom escaped her, had opened the door to her chambers, handed Binter the key, and then bowed and informed her that her father had restricted her to her room until such time that he called for her. It was no more than Keritanima expected. Damon Eram didn't want his dangerous daughter roaming the halls getting into mischief, and he also didn't want her to feel that she was so important that he would drop everything to deal with her. It was a game of hurry up and wait. The four monstrous big-cat Wikuni Marines posted outside her door were there to convince her to remain inside, and perhaps to prevent possible conspirators from gaining access to the Princess. Again, it was no more than what she expected. Given the circumstances, she would order the same things if their positions were reversed.

Her old rooms were undisturbed. The crushed velvet theme of the room's lavish furnishings were just as she remembered them, with the mahogany wood panelling covering over stone walls and the rich feel of the Shen Lung carpets strewn across the cold floor. The main chamber of her apartments was dominated by a huge hearth, in which a fire had constantly burned when she occupied the chambers. Keritanima was fond of the fire, of its light and it warmth, and the fact that it allowed her to stand in silhouette against its light and make it hard for those spying on her to see what she was doing. Each room was furnished similarly, except for the room occupied by Binter and Sisska. Her personal bedroom was beyond their room, forcing any attacker to go through the Vendari to get to her. The heavy bars on the window of her room ensured that nobody could scale the precipitous walls of the Palace to reach her either. What they didn't know was that those bars could be easily removed from the inside, allowing the crafty Princess to climb down to the next lower window, which was at the end of a passageway, and sneak out of her rooms. She was quite adept at making the climb after so many years, and the cracks, footholds, and handholds of the rough stone wall were intimately imprinted into her memory. She could make that climb, up or down, blindfolded.

The rooms were clean and neat, just as she left them. All her clothing and jewelry were also present in the room, and from the smell of things, none of her rooms in her apartments had been entered for a couple of days. She allowed no one to enter her bedroom other than the Vendari and Miranda. Not even the other servants of the Palace were permitted in her room, on pain of death. Miranda maintained the room, kept the room clean and changed the sheets on the bed.

"Nice," Azakar said appreciatively, looking at her huge inner chamber. It was dominated by a four-poster bed with a feather mattress, with curtains to shade her from the light and large enough to hold four people. A little stool allowed her to climb up into it, since its rail came up to her chest. A pair of nightstands flanked the bed, and a large hope chest sat at its foot. She had a large, gilded desk on one wall, just over the window--which was what she used to climb up to it when she snuck out--and three clothes armoires lining the wall to the bed's left. The right side of the room was open and empty, except for a large, ornate hearth and mantle, complete with a wrought-iron fence and screen to keep the embers of the fire off the expensive carpets, and a door leading to a large closet. The room was decorated by several small sculptures standing on pedestals, elegant works of art depicting Wikuni, a couple of human busts, and a breathtaking sculpture of some sort of exotic female being. She had paintings on her walls, strange paintings consisting of large pictures of landscapes and Wikuni in relaxed surroundings, yet when one looked closely, those figures and objects were constructed of a myriad of tiny dots and smudges of paint of different colors. Up close, the paintings looked like spatters of paint, yet when one stepped back and regarded the work as a whole, the characters and settings were easily made out. Those portraits never failed to amaze and enthrall the Princess, who would sit and stare at them for hours on end to puzzle out the depth of the genius guiding the hand who had created them.

"I never thought I'd see this place again," Keritanima remarked as she touched the Weave and wove together a hasty spell constructed entirely of Mind and Divine flows, sending the fingers of her spell out to search for sentient minds within the immediate area. She had no trouble locating six of them outside the room, yet so close they had to be just beyond her apartment's walls. The daily spies. Her bedroom was impenetrable by spies, for the rooms on both sides of it belonged to her private apartments. One was the large closet that held the majority of her clothing, and the other was a small privy and bathing chamber, complete with running water. Those two chambers isolated her room within the apartment from physical spying through the walls, leaving on those who could listen into the room either with magic or with certain auditory aides. The only true way to spy into the room was from above, and the room above hers was supposedly unused and kept locked. That didn't stop them from getting in there and making tiny holes in the ceiling with which to spy on her. Before she left, she used to keep her own agents in that room, deaf agents there to kill anyone who knew the secret way to get inside it.

Without so much as batting an eye, she wove together another spell of Mind, Divine, and a touch of Air, a spell that attacked those minds with the power of an avalanche, overwhelming them one by one. A single instruction was implanted deep within them, an order that none of them could possibly hope to ignore, deny, or fail to carry out. One by one, those six Wikuni filed out of their hidden cubby holes, marched to the end of the passage, then threw themselves out the window.

She had to establish her dominance immediately, and unfortunately, that required her to kill off anyone who dared to spy on her. It was part of the plan.

Lula had taught her Wikuni pupil alot more than even the Council suspected. Mind weaves she created wouldn't work on humans, because she was not human, but there was nothing stopping them from working on other Wikuni. Lula had taught her those mind weaves, knowing that her bright student could make the alterations necessary to make them effective on her own kind.

After doing that, she sent flows of Earth through her ceiling, using them to find the tiny peepholes made in the ceiling to spy on her. She wove together a spell of Water and Earth and released it into the ceiling, causing the stone to soften just enough for her magical nudging to seal those holes and cracks, then she dissipated the Weave and wove another consisting of flows of Earth, Divine energy, and Fire. That hardened the stone, made it as strong as steel, and making sure that any attempt to drill through it would be so noisy that it couldn't be missed.

"It's safe to talk now," she announced calmly, sitting down on the chest. "Miranda, we have to start immediately. I won't be able to move around for a few days, so I want you to go into the city and contact Ulfan. I'm going to need him."

"Already? Wouldn't it be better to wait?"

"No. We're running on a schedule here, Miranda. Sisska, I want you to leave tomorrow. Are you ready for it?"

"I will leave with the dawn, Highness," she said confidently. "In exactly three months from tomorrow, the Vendari will be here."

"Good. I can't stress how much I'm counting on you, Sisska. You and the Vendari are the fulchrum of this plan. If you don't show up, the rest of us are going to be executed."

"By my honor, we will be here," she said seriously.

"Then I'm sure I'll see you again in three months," Keritanima smiled. "Azakar, do you think you're ready to take Sisska's place? Miranda can be a handful."

Miranda gave Keritanima a dirty look. "I'm not half as much trouble as you," she accused.

"I know," Keritanima winked to her.

"I can keep the flipskirt under control," Azakar said with a hint of a smile.

"That was business, Zak," Miranda said cooly.

"I'm sure it was."

"I don't do that unless I have to. Arduous men are cesspools of good information."

"You certainly didn't sound like you minded wading into that cesspool."

"Do you mind?" Miranda asked huffily.

"Not at all," he grinned.

"Men!" Miranda snorted, opening her shoulder bag and pulling out a bit of embroidery.

Binter and Sisska traded mysterious looks, then they nodded to one another.

"Odds are, my father's going to hold off seeing me for a couple of days," Keritanima continued. "He'll want some safeguards in place to protect himself from any kind of magical attack, because I don't doubt he's expecting one. I want to remind you, Zak, that absolutely anything you say or do is going to be on my father's desk in triplicate. I hope you remember your Knightly training about stoicism, silence, and fortitude. Not a word, Zak. Not a word."

"I won't say a word unless Miranda says it's alright," he said soberly.

"Good. Most of the time they'll be speaking Wikuni, but most Wikuni know Common, so assume that anyone around you can understand what you're saying."

"I will," he promised.

"Good. I'm depending on you, Zak."

"I'll make you proud, Kerri."

"I don't doubt it," she said with a toothy grin.

"It is unseemly they return you without a meal waiting," Binter announced. "I think I will arrange some lunch."

"I'd really appreciate that, Binter," Keritanima said with a grateful look. "Absolutely nothing involving ham, tackbread, or ale, please. Fruits and vegetables. I've been dying for an apple."

"I will arrange some fruit, cheese, pastries, and wine until the dinner hour," he offered.

"That sounds wonderful," she told him.

Binter bowed silently, then turned and left for the kitchens. Keritanima leaned back against the footboard of her chest. "There's a spare bedroom off the sitting room, Zak," she said. "It's supposed to be for a maid, but we don't use it. Miranda stays in here with me. You can stay there."

"No offense, but no thanks," he replied. "With Sisska leaving for her home, Binter would probably rather have a second set of eyes and ears in the room defending this one. I'll stay in there."

"Wise," Sisska agreed.

"Well, then I guess that's the plan," Keritanima frowned. "I hope Binter doesn't mind."

"He will demand it," Sisska told her charge in her deep, sibilant voice. "Azakar serves no purpose that far from his duty."

Azakar nodded to the female Vendari. Their training of him was showing more and more every day.

"Alright then. I guess we can unpack and get settled in, then. And get something to eat that hasn't been packed in salt," she said with a grunt.

After a light meal, they settled in. Azakar and Binter helped Sisska pack what she would need for her journey, and he settled into the room the Vendari mates shared as Miranda unpacked what few belongings they had managed to bring with them from Shoran's Fork. About all that entailed were the clothes on her back and those Miranda made for her, a few personal effects, and Miranda's shoulder bag. The precious satchel was stowed in a secret cubbyhole in the room's hearth, the same cubby that held the key to the treasury, her skulking clothes, lockpicks, some rope and a grapple and other thiefly tools, and the Royal Seal she had used so many times as a young girl. The tools of an enterprising young lady with a plan to leave the horrible conditions of her life. That little girl would be very put out with her for screwing all that planning up and coming back. There had been few good times in the room, but there were one or two. Mainly remembrances of the special friendship she shared with Miranda, when the young commoner was placed with the Princess to be her personal maid, and turned out to be her only friend.

It had been so long ago. She smiled as she patted the old writing desk, a desk that hadn't seen much use when she was very young. Before the struggle to stay alive had overwhelmed her life. The orders of alot of killings had come from that desk, orders passed on through her network to Ulfan, her criminal friend in the city. Ruler of the Black Shadows, a thieves' guild in the city, with enough underworld connections to arrange for any murder she so ordered. Ulfan's cooperation had been one of the only things keeping her alive at that time. Of course, that cooperation came from the fact that she paid him well for his work, but the fact that he could have sold her out at any time reminded her that his working for her had been as much out of friendship as it was business. He was one of only five that knew her secret at that time. The fifth was Kalina, another Fox Wikuni that looked so much like Keritanima that it was like looking into a mirror. Kalina was a harlot and a pickpocket, stealing what she could to make a living, and prostituting for the rest. The only difference between them was that Kalina was just a shade taller than Keritanima, and she was just a bit more busty. But she could imitate Keritanima's voice almost perfectly, and she knew enough about the Princess to be a convincing imposter. Keritanima had used that many times to confuse her enemies, for them to literally see two Keritanimas in two different places at the same time. Kalina was a bit coarse, but she was a loyal employee when she was paid well. Ulfan and Kalina would be vital to her plan, as would the Black Shadows.

Maybe some good memories would come from the apartment now. Gods only knew, whether she succeeded or failed, they would be memorable.

No servants or emissaries from her father showed up, even after dinner was brought to them. Damon Eram was trying to sweat her, she knew. Trying to be unpredictable, trying to throw her off guard. It worked in her favor that he was putting her off, trying to assert his dominance by making her wait. By keeping her pinned in her room, he was obviously trying to upset her, get her worked up. If he only knew that he was playing right into her hands.

She was forced to eliminate another round of spies, obviously come to find out why the first hadn't reported, then taken their places. She and the others sat in the sitting room by her large hearth and its crackling fire. She sat at the coffee table, on the floor, continuing to write her documents, as Azakar sharpened his sword, Binter and Sisska played chess, and Miranda continued with her embroidery. That was when the note was pushed under the door. They all looked at each other for a moment, and then Miranda padded over and picked it up and unfolded it. "To K.; time to walk the dog." She looked up at Keritanima with a slight smile. "I guess Ulfan already knows we're here."

"I wonder how the messenger convinced the Marines to let him slip that note," Azakar mused. "What does 'walk the dog' mean?"

"It's an old code phrase between us," Keritanima replied sedately. "This means he'll be looking for one of us, Miranda."

"I'll go see him first thing tomorrow morning, Kerri," she promised. "As soon as you convince your father to let me out of the room."

"The orders were for me to stay in here, not you," she pointed out. "I doubt they'll stop you. You'll just have to shake the tailers they put on you when you leave."

"Child's play," she grinned. "Ulfan can smell the money."

"No doubt," Keritanima mused.

The next morning dawned warm and promising of good weather. The morning sun streamed in through the barred window, filtering through the curtains blocking them in from the bed. Keritanima had always liked that bed. Miranda was still asleep on the other side of it, and her tail had managed to get up underneath Keritanima's leg. It had been quite a while since she'd shared her bed with Miranda, but it seemed like old times again. For mutual protection, they had always slept in the same bed, where Keritanima's nose and Miranda's ears would detect any intruder. Keritanima and Miranda both were exceptionally light sleepers. She stirred at Keritanima's movement, then opened her eyes and swept her blond bangs out of her blue eyes.

"It's time to get to work," she said sleepily in Sha'Kar.

"Time indeeed," Keritanima replied. She closed her eyes and put her hands to her amulet, and reached out across the vast miles, searching out the sensation of her brother. "Tarrin," she called. "Tarrin, it's Kerri," she caled out in Sha'Kar.

"Kerri?" came the reply a second later, in Sha'Kar. Tarrin sounded out of breath. "How are you doing? Is there something wrong?"

"Of course there's nothing wrong," she replied. "Is that any way to greet your sister?"

"It's been so long since we spoke, I figured you'd only call in an emergency."

"Nothing stopped you from talking to me," she accused as Miranda giggled.

"I figured if it was important enough, I'd call to you," he replied. "What's going on?"

"We've reached Wikuna, deshida," she announced.

"Have you killed your father yet?"

Keritanima chuckled. "No, not yet. He's making me wait. He'll probably call me in for an audience late today or tomorrow. Where are you now?"

"Right now, I think we're somewhere off the coast of the Desert of Swirling Sands," he replied. "We ran into some problems."

"What kind of problems?"

"A storm broke a mast, and then we had a fight with some pirates that Renoit said hide in the islands off the desert coastline." There was a pause. "No, I'm not going to explain it right now, Camara. Just give me a minute."

"Camara?"

"Camara Tal," he elaborated. "After Zak got stuck with you, the Goddess decided to find someone to replace him. Another sword to help us. She found an Amazon. She's been with us since Shoran's Fork. Her and a Faerie that Triana sent along to help me control my power."

"A Faerie, huh? That must be interesting."

"Sarraya's a bit rambunctious, but I kinda like her," he replied. "How are the others?"

"So far so good," she replied. "Sisska's leaving today to visit her people. I'm glad we have Zak here, because Binter would have been stressed trying to protect both of us. We don't stay together often."

"I'm glad he's not just sitting around," Tarrin commented. "Care to trade? I'll give you the Amazon, and you can send me Zak."

Keritanima laughed. "I hope she can't understand you," Keritanima teased. "She'd kick you for saying that."

"She's alright enough, but sometimes she gets on my nerves," he grated.

"And she's still alive?"

"Yeah. I guess I should do something about that."

Miranda and Keritanima both giggled. "That's Tarrin, alright," Miranda grinned.

Keritanima grinned at her maid. "How is Allia, and everyone else?"

"Allia's fine. She's kinda hijacked one of Phandebrass' pet drakes. I can never tell them apart. It absolutely adores her. Dolanna and Faalken are fine, too. Dolanna spends most of her time teaching Faalken and the others Sha'Kar. Dar's been learning how to juggle, and he's beginning to break some of the hearts of the younger girls on the ship. That boy learns fast," he chuckled.

"You said you had a fight. What was the Amazon like?" Keritnaima asked curiously. She'd heard legends of the Amazons.

"She's a monster," he replied immediately. "An absolute monster. She's just as good as Faalken, and she's a Priestess to boot. That sword is bad enough, but she also throws magic around in a fight. She's not someone I'd care to have to fight."

"A priestess?" Keritanima said in surprise.

"Yah," he said in a distracted tone. "Sorry. That damned drake is biting my tail. Allia, get rid of it or I'm going to eat it for lunch. Oh, Allia sends her love."

Miranda giggled. "Send her our love," Keritanima replied. "Sorry to break this off, brother, but it's about time for us to get up and get going. We have alot to do today."

"I should go myself. I'm kinda in the middle of something."

"I noticed you're out of breath. What are you doing?"

"Beating Camara Tal senseless," he replied. "She wanted to spar against me. I'm taking my frustrations out on her."

Keritanima and Miranda laughed. "Well, don't let us stop you. I'll contact you when I have more news for you, alright?"

"Good enough. If something serious happens here, one of us will let you know. Goodbye, sister."

"Goodbye, brother," she said, then she took her hand off the amulet.

"It's good to hear from him," Miranda said, mirroring both their feelings.

"Very good. Now then, Miranda, let's get up and about. There is much to do today."

"Very much," she agreed.

After dressing in one of Miranda's plain, well made dresses and finding a pair of matching slippers in her closet, they moved into the sitting room for breakfast. Azakar and Binter were already awake, and Sisska was nowhere to be found. Keritanima was a bit put out with the Vendari for leaving without telling her, but then again, that was the Vendari way. She knew what she had to do, so she was going to do it. It was that simple. Azakar had his armor on for some reason, and he clanged and jangled as he walked circles to settle it into place. They'd taken it from him during the voyage, and it had some rust on it here and there. He'd have to take care of that. Keritanima knew that he knew how to care for his armor, that was a basic skill taught to the Knights during their training. Every Cadet had to maintain his own armor. "You're rusting," Keritanima told him.

"I know," he grimaced. "They didn't oil it when they stowed it away."

"When did they drop that off?"

"It was stacked by the door when I came in this morning," he replied. "As well as our weapons. Sisska already left."

"I see that," she noted. "She got her axe back?"

Binter nodded. "She asked me to give her regards."

"I hope she doesn't have any trouble," Keritanima sighed. "Why are you wearing that, Zak?"

"I put it on to make sure they didn't bend it up," he replied. "Besides, I get the feeling that leaving this room without my armor would make me feel very vulnerable."

"Smart boy," Miranda said lightly.

There was a curt knock at the door, and then it opened. A thin weasel Wikuni entered, with brownish-gray fur and a very narrow, needle-like muzzle. Keritanima didn't know him, but he wore the livery of the Chamberlain, the overseer of the palace's daily affairs. He had the sunburst over the ocean symbol which was the crest of Wikuna on one side of his doublet, and the three- tailed whip device that was the coat of arms of the house of Eram on the other side. She recalled absently that the old Chamberlain was on her list of people for Ulfan to kill. This had to be his replacement.

"Princess Keritanima-Chan Eram, you are summoned to an audience with high Majesty, Damon Eram, king of Wikuna," he said formally. "You will attend immediately."

Keritanima's heart seized for just a second, then it was gripped with an icy calm. "Fine," she said. "I'll put on something--"

"Immediately, your Highness," he interrupted. "I am instructed to bring you right now."

So, her father tried catching her sleeping, so she'd have to report to him in her nightgown. That meant that the audience would take place in the Hall of the Sun, the throne room of the Palace, and she had no doubt that there would be many members of court present. They probably had to be dragged out of bed. Most court members didn't get up until noon. That had two uses for her father. To humiliate his daughter, and also to put a great many witnesses in the room with them to prevent her from carrying out on her threat. Killing him without being fingered for the crime was just fine, but if there were witnesses, she would be executed for high treason.

Azakar belted on his sword, and Binter immediately went into his chamber to retrieve his massive warhammer. Miranda set her plate aside and stood up, then brushed the front of her maid's dress with her hands calmly. "Very well," Keritanima said. "As soon as my bodyguard gets his weapon, we'll be on our way."

"You are instructed to come alone, Highness," the Chamberlain said tersely.

"I will not leave this room without my bodyguards, and I won't leave my maid behind alone," Keritanima retorted flatly. "If my father doesn't like it, he can come to me and voice his displeasure."

The Chamberlain looked a bit unsure, and his eyes darted back and forth for a moment before blowing out his breath. "Then have him hurry up," he prompted.

"Binter!" Keritanima called. "Let's go!"

The monstrous Vendari returned from his chamber holding his wicked weapon in his hand easily. He looked at Azakar, who simply nodded and set his large shield on his right arm and strapped it in place. Keritanima tended to forget the fact that Azakar was lefthanded, and that made him a dangerous opponent for a righthanded adversary. He came up to Keritana's right, a position that would allow him to turn and throw his shield arm across her body quickly, in case she was threatened by some weapon.

After that, they were on their way. The Hall of the Sun was a good distance from her apartments, so the four of them and the ten Marines surrounding them walked for some time through luxrurious passageways. They passed many servants along the way, servants sho scrambled out of the way and bowed as the Princess passed. Keritanima's mind was surprisingly calm and serene. She had been preparing for this for nearly a month. She already knew exactly what she wanted to say, and now that she had an idea of what was waiting for her, she knew how to turn the banter with her father down the avenues she wished to travel.

They stopped in the antechamber leading into the throne room, and she smoothed her dress unconsciously before the two huge bear Wikuni holding halberds crossed in front of the ornate, deeply polished Heartwood doors opening into the throne chamber. They wore yellow and orange doublets and hose, the livery of the Royal Guard, and the sunburst symbol of Wikuna was emblazoned on the chest of their uniforms. They recognized Keritanima and pulled their weapons aside, then turned and faced each other to open a path for the procession. Then they saluted. The Royal Guard was an institution nearly a thousand years old, and their loyalty was to the throne of Wikuna, not necessarily the individual sitting upon it. Because Keritanima was the heir-apparent, next in line for the throne, they afforded her more respect than they did other people.

They opened the doors for her after she acknowledged them with an eloquent nod, and the Chamberlain scurried in before them. Azakar stopped and gawked a bit at the Hall of the Sun, giving the Chamberlain time to procure his ceremonial staff from a servant holding it. The throne chamber was suitably grand and lavish for the monarch of Wikuna, huge and towering, with vaulted ceilings and mighty buttresses rising up to reinforce them. The ceiling was arched, some hundred feet over their heads, where many chandoliers hung with their magically created lights to illuminate the huge chamber. A red carpet ran up the middle of the room, from the doors to the raised dais that held the throne itself, and flanking that carpet was nearly three hundred Wikuni dressed in various types of ridiculously expensive attire. Nearly the full complement of court, she noticed. The throne was a huge block of black basalt stone, shaped into a huge throne, with thick pillows and armrests to comfort the reigning monarch. In stark contrast to that black stone chair, a huge circular topaz nearly three feet across was embedded in the back of the throne, a good six feet from the chair's base, with a corona carved into the stone around it that was encrusted with smaller topazes, a begemmed replica of the sun on the kingdom's crest.

Sitting on that throne, dressed in the purple robe of the monarch and with the gold and topaz crown of Wikuna sitting atop his brow, was Damon Eram. Keritanima stared calmly at him as she stood and waited to be announced. From that distance, it was hard to make out the nuances of his features, but the flat, angry look on his face was evident to anyone who could see it. Standing beside him, on his left, was Keritanima's sister, Jenawalani. The mink Wikuni's face was pinched and hostile, and her brown hair and gray fur had been combed to absolute perfection. She wore a gem-studded gown with a daring neckline, a modest cream color to accentuate the color of her fur, but her boxy muzzle showed her barely contained snarl of envy and hatred of her older sister as she entered the room.

The Chamberlain rapped his staff on the tiled floor sharply, three times, and that caused the low chatter in the hall died down. "Your Majesty, Lords and Ladies, KeritanimaChan Eram, Jewel of the Western Star, Lady of the Twenty Seas, Bearer of the five Bands of Nan, Holder of the Ring of Bakul, Crown Princess of Wikuna!"

The assembled courtiers bowed or curtsied at that announcement. Binter and Miranda did the same, Binter having to rap the back of Azakar's knees with the tip of his tail to get the human to do what was proper. From here on, Keritanima would be alone. She stepped away from the protection of her bodyguards and friends, stepped onto that red carpet, walking a gauntlet of amused looks, evil glares, and barely suppressed smiles as she marched slowly, measuredly, and regally up that carpet and towards her father. She didn't look anywhere but into his eyes the entire time, watching them begin to burn with anger and fury as she approached, but they were also tinged with just a little bit of fear. She reached the edge of the carpet and stopped, some fifteen feet from her father. No one was permitted to come any closer than that. Then she just stood there, when she was supposed to curtsy and make some kind of humble remark to satisfy the towering pride of the throne and the monarch.

Damon Eram blasted to his feet and raised an arm, a hand holding the golden scepter of the crown, and pointed it at her. "You will show proper respect for the King!" he roared.

Keritanima said nothing. She simply crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stared at him.

The fur on Damon Eram's face ruffled as the skin beneath flushed, making the fur move. "This is treason!" he screamed. "Bow to me right now, or I'll have you executed on the spot!"

Keritanima raised one arm and pointed the palm of her hand at her father. That caused him to recoil, to bring his scepter up as if to fend off some kind of attack, and several of the Royal Guard rushed from their positions at the sides of the dais and the walls to intercept her. But she did nothing more than reach down and grab the hem of her skirt, then make the barest of curtsies. She stared right into his eyes the entire time, her steady gaze making note of his fear and his reaction to her. Then she gave him a light, amused smile. That also generated a few barely audible chuckles and titters. Damon Eram feared his daughter, and she had just made that weakness public knowledge.

Damon Eram recovered his dignity, glaring death down on his daughter and jumping back into a rigid posture. But Keritanima's voice cut him off before he could begin to rail. "Thus have I satisfied the demands of the King," she stated in a cold voice. "Do you want me to sit up and beg now? Roll over and play dead? How about if I fetch your slippers?"

Damon Eram spluttered as some of the courtiers laughed. None of them expected humor from Keritanima. Many of them had no idea what to expect from her, she knew, and she was going to take advantage of that fact.

"Perhaps his Majesty would prefer it if I entertained him with feats of prestidigitation and thaumaturgic delights?" she asked, raising her hands and toucing the Weave. Five balls of fire appeared in her hands, and she began to juggle them easily. Damon Eram flinched slightly at the appearance of those magical objects, but this time he held his position. "After all, you must have some reason to bring me halfway across the globe to stand before you."

"Cease this display!" Damon Eram roared, trying to get the situation back under control. Keritanima let the fiery balls vanish, then folded her arms again and stared at him. "Your behavior has been deplorable, Keritanima! You have caused me no end of trouble, and I mean to take that trouble out of your thick hide!"

"You may certainly try," she retorted calmly.

"Silence!" he screamed in a furious tone. "You have inconvenienced the Crown and Wikuna for the last time, Keritanima! Did you believe that you would get away with it? Did you really think I wouldn't have you dragged back here to answer to me for what you have done?" He pulled his robe around him and sat back down. "Your punishment has already been decreed, daughter. You will surrender all your personal wealth to the Crown. You will be restricted to your apartments until such time that I rescind that punishment, and you will be flogged right here and right now." Keritanima glared at her father, but she did not speak. "Fifty lashes. One for each headache you have caused me in the last months."

A large cat Wikuni stepped forth, wearing a black leather hood and carrying a whip. "Now remove your dress," Damon Eram hissed eagerly.

Keritanima didn't move. She just stared at her father.

"Fine then. I'm sure the dress will make it hurt that much more. Commence!" he ordered.

The cat Wikuna shook out his whip and moved to the side, so his whip lashes would strike the Princess on the back, as the courtiers cleared away from the area near the throne, looking on eagerly. Keritanima did not move, made no attempt to dodge or protect herself as the cat Wikuni raised the whip, then struck at her. It lashed in and made contact with her back--

--and there was a brilliant flash of light. The cat Wikuni screamed only once as lightning blasted up the length of his whip, emanating from Keritanima and sizzling into him. His fur stood straight out, and then began to smoke, as the scream died away and it made no more sound. It only shuddered horribly, unable to release the whip even as the tip of the whip did not fall away from her back, until the lightning stopped arcing along the whip's length and the tip fell away from her. The cat Wikuni slumped to the floor, smoke issuing forth from its mouth, eyes, and fur. It was very dead.

"Murder!" Jenawalani declared loudly in her shrill voice.

Damon Eram jumped to his feet, his eyes bulging in his shock and rage at her action. "You have just commited murder before the court!" he screamed.

"I did no such thing," she replied calmly, kicking the end of the whip away from her foot. "The Fifth volume of the Laws of the Crown, year 1747, third decree, states that a Royal Prince or Princess may not be physically assaulted or injured by any party of lower rank. Such transgressions are punishable by death, with no benefit of trial. So, as you see, father, I did nothing more than enforce the law."

Damon Eram glared at her.

"The only person with the legal authority to whip me is you," she announced, reaching down and picking up the whip. She coiled it up until she had the handle, and held it out towards him calmly. "Would you care to have a turn, father? I'm sure you'll find the experience a once in a lifetime event."

The challenge hung there for a very long moment, then Damon Eram sat back down on his throne hard enough to jar his crown. Jenawalani glared viciously at her older sister, nearly snarling at her. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the courtiers staring at Keritanima with new eyes. This was nothing what they expected. Nobody had ever frustrated and dominated Damon Eram in his own throne room before. "You are wrong, daughter," Damon Eram snapped. "I ordered the flogging. Your quoted law doesn't give you the right to counter my decree."

Keritanima continued to hold onto the whip. "I'll be happy to wait here as your Chamberlain researches the law," she offered. "I'm sure he'll discover the validity of my statement. Would you like me to quote it for you, so he knows what to look for?"

Damon Eram stared flatly at her.

"Until he returns, I assure you I'll deal with anyone else who tries to whip me in the same manner," she promised. "Unless you'd like to come down here and do it yourself," she added with a slight smile.

"I will not permit witchcraft in my hall," he said evilly. "I forbid you to use your magic in this hall again."

"Fine. Just so you know, the spell protecting me was created before you made that statement. Anyone who makes an attempt to injure me will meet a similar end."

Damon Eram's brows furrowed. "Then I order you to end your spell."

"I cannot. You just ordered me not to use magic in this hall. A decree made by a King does not expire, nor can it be superseded by later decree, until a written copy of said decree, bearing the King's seal, is presented before the Clerk of Law."

"That's a lie!" Jenawalani accused.

"First Volume of Laws of the Crown, year 1752, first decree. Would you like your Chamberlain to check that one as well?" She smacked her head. "Dear me. I seem to see that your Clerk of Law isn't present at the moment. Someone should really go summon him." She tapped her finger on her muzzle. "Do you know where that law came from? It was the decree of Luthis, your great-great grandfather. He had a habit of second-guessing his own decisions, so he made that decree to ensure he thought carefully about any decree he wished to repeal. It was never repealed by a later decree."

It was clear to everyone in the hall that Damon Eram was more than taken aback. Keritanima had defeated his attempt to humiliate her with a public flogging, and it was plain from his face that he didn't know if she was lying about those laws, or telling the truth. He looked to have no idea what to say next. "Come now, father," she said, putting the whip on her shoulder easily. "This is where you send your Chamberlain to check those laws, and order me to wait until he returns, trying to make me feel uncomfortable. If it turns out I'm lying, you can have me executed for murder. If it turns out I'm telling the truth, then you'll have to fetch your Clerk of Law so you can repeal the decree stopping you from making me lower my protective spell."

"I will not play games with you, Keritanima," he hissed. "I order you to submit to the punishment."

"I already have submitted to the punishment," she replied evenly. "As soon as you find someone to administer it, I'll gladly let him try to whip me."

"Killing the man fulfilling my orders is not submitting to your punishment!" he raged, standing up again.

"You said submit. You did not say accept. And you already know what it will take to have me whipped, father. We can stand here all day and play word games and chess, but you know it will never come down to anything else. I know the law better than you ever will, and I can stand here and raise legal defenses to my actions all day. There are hundreds of laws protecting the Royal Family."

"Not if I repeal them," he hissed.

"If you repeal them, you leave yourself open to all sorts of problems, father. After all, those same laws protect you. Repeal them, and you lose your own legal protection." She grinned evilly. "Face it, father. The only way you're going to hurt me is if you come down here and do it yourself."

Damon Eram looked past her. "If you will not accept the punishment, then your maid will on your behalf. Only it will be doubled."

"First Volume, year 1737, first decree. The personal servants of the Royal Family will be extended the same protections as the Royal family member whom they serve. Anyone who touches my maid will answer to my bodyguard," she warned in a dangerous voice. "Binter, Azakar, kill anyone who touches my maid," she called loudly in Common, so Azakar could understand the command.

"Now I know you're lying," Damon Eram said triumphantly.

"Then go look it up," Keritanima said flatly. "Would you like the decree quoted to you in its entirety?"

"As a matter of fact, I would," he said with a grin.

Keritanima cleared her voice. "Hear Ye, Hear Ye, Beholden this, a lawful Decree issued forth by Amvar Eram, King of Wikuna, in the year of our Gods 1737. Be it so known that henceforth, the personal servants, grooms, maids, and private attendants of the immediate Royal family shall enjoy the same legal protections as the Royal family member whom they serve, be it matters legal, physical, or tort. The personal servants of said Royal family members shall be protected by the Royal Guard as vigorously as they would defend the Royal family. Hear Ye, Hear Ye, be this decreed as rightful law."

One of the Royal Guard stepped forth boldly. He was a tall panther Wikuni with gray creeping into his black fur, but his green eyes were still sharp and lucid. Keritanima knew him as Shan, the Captain of the Royal Guard, a sober, serious Wikuni devoted to his duty. Keritanima knew that Shan didn't like her father, so it was no surprise that he was speaking up for her now. "Your Majesty, on this matter, I can state confidently that the Princess has correctly cited the law. Personal servants of the Royal family are, by law and duty, protected by the Royal Guard when they stand within the Palace. This is a law I know, so I can support her Highness in its interpretation. Given the circumstances, should anyone attempt to harm the Princess' maid within this hall, the Royal Guard would have to stand forth and defend her from injury."

"Thank you so much for that," Damon Eram said flatly to his Captain, giving Keritanima a slightly wild look. He seemed shocked that she could quote forgotten laws and decrees. "I will definitely have your laws researched, daughter," he said in a savage voice. "Until I remove all the blocks to your flogging, you will return to your apartments. But be ready to receive your punishment. But now it will be on hundred lashes, carried out in the Market Square at high noon. And you will have to march to the square naked, then march back after you have received your punishment."

"I'm so glad you think so, father," she said flippantly, turning her back to him and walking away without curtsying, or waiting to be dismissed.

"You will show me proper respect!" Damon Eram screamed from his throne.

"I'm already going to be whipped," she snorted, glancing at him over her shoulder. "Why should I bother with hollow tokens of respect?"

"How dare you!" he shrieked.

"I dare lots of things, father," she said, stopping and turning around. "I am what you made me. Now you have to face the reality of your molding." She stared at him, raised her hand to the side of her muzzle, pulled down her lower eyelid, and then stuck her tongue out at him. "That's from the Brat," she said with a grin. "She says hello."

That created a bit of laughter among the courtiers, who were now thoroughly enthralled with the drama playing out between father and daughter.

Keritanima collected her maid and her bodyguards, turned and gave her father a toothy grin, then sauntered out of the throne room acting as if she owned it. She left behind a court trying very hard not to laugh in the presence of an infuriated, indignant, thoroughly humiliated King, and his astounded, shocked, and very worried younger daughter.

Word of Keritanima's mastery of her father during their initial encounter raced from the Palace like the wind, and spread throughout the city. Word of it reached every pub and alehouse, scattered through warehouses and aboard docked ships, and floated through the parlors of the rich and the noble. By sunset, everyone in Wikuna was whispering about how Damon Eram's daughter embarassed him in his own throne room.

And more than one nobleman reassessed his opinion of Damon Eram's enigmatic daughter.

©2000, James Galloway. All Rights Reserved.