Chapter 14

No spy would come within a mile of Keritanima now.

When she got back to her apartments after eliminating Arthas Zalan, she killed all the spies around her apartment. No subtle games, no making them vanish and leaving her opposition curious. She killed them. She left their bodies there for others to discover, and when men came to find out why the spies weren't reporting, she killed them. Then she killed those who came to see why the checkers didn't report back. After the third wave, they seemed to realize that going to find out what was going on was suicide, so no more came to find out what was going on.

By then, she simply had nothing left. She had pushed herself beyond her limits, and the last killing Mind weaves nearly knocked her out. Binter had to put her to bed after that, sleeping beside the recovering Miranda, with Kalina and Azakar in the room as physical protection while Binter covered the middle chamber.

The sleep had broken her fury. When she awoke, she felt weary and drained, but she wasn't walking the edge of control any longer. In those initial moments of lucidity, after checking on Miranda, she analyzed what she did, and considered how it would change things.

Her attack on Arthas Zalan was no doubt common knowledge by now, and it would tell those seeking to plot against her that she did not play. That she was more than willing to come after anyone she caught planning against her and kill them would most certainly be riding high in the minds of anyone who wanted to do it. The fact that she was a Sorceress in a kingdom where only priests were technically allowed to practice magic worked in her favor. Her magic was strange, powerful, terrifying to people used to seeing only the gentle magic of the priests, who wouldn't use their magic to harm other living beings except in self-defense. She was certain that those who had seen her or followed her knew that she used her magic to track down Miranda's attacker. Her status as the Crown Princess made her generally inviolate from retribution, even as it protected her from the law against magic. That law didn't apply to the Royal Family, who were only constrained by the laws that specifically dealt with them. And that she had found them so quickly, before they could even scatter after meeting with their assassin, would also be high in their minds. It would make even the daring think twice about attempting anything like that again, knowing that the Princess could use her mysterious powers to track them down with shocking speed, and possibly be only two steps behind them with murder in her eyes.

Her attack on her rivals had established two simple rules for the others. Proceed at your own risk, and if you do proceed, do not fail. This was no longer the cloak and dagger world of noble politics, where the nobles could get away with murder if they were clever enough to cover their tracks. Keritanima had raised it to a new level, a level where the lives of those who dared dabble in intrigue was in very real and very immediate danger. Because she was intelligent enough to unravel even compex plans, she had magical powers that would make it very easy for her to find her enemies, and she had already demonstrated a willingness to immediately kill anyone she knew was conspiring against her, she felt that the noble houses, her father, and other powerful organizations in Wikuna would think twice about doing that again.

They would do it again eventually. This was Wikuna, and intrigue was like food to a starving man. The hunger for power would fuel the desire in others, and they would lose their fear of her and again start arranging things so they had the most power. But now they were going to be very careful. And to be that careful, they were going to have to pull back and reorganize themselves, prepare to be just that careful.

By then, it would be too late.

She silently cursed the laziness of her father. Where was he? Certainly he finished repealing the laws preventing him from punishing her by now. She expected them to come for her today. She had to get the flogging out of the way, so she could move onto the next step in the plan, and she couldn't do that so long as she was confined to her room. Kalina had served her primary purpose in allowing her to get Ulfan on the ball, but the risk was too great to use Kalina's services any more than absolutely necessary. Kalina was good at pretending to be her, but she didn't know everything, and Keritanima had changed since her time abroad. There was a chance that Kalina would blow it. It wasn't Kalina's fault, it was Keritanima's. Kalina needed time to study Keritanima, to learn how to play the new incarnation of her personality, that of the Princess. If Kalina had some time to prepare, Keritanima wouldn't think twice about leaving her to pretend to be her. But time was the one thing they didn't have. She had exactly two months and twenty-seven days, and every day counted. She needed to get out there and find out what was going on with the noble houses, so she would know what plans to lay in order to keep them from interfering with her.

Houses. Keritanima chuckled wickedly once when she thought of Arthas Zalan. With him dead, that meant that the ruling chair of the house now belonged to Sheba, his eldest child. Sheba would chafe at the responsibilities, of having to be a part of the system. If there was a more fitting punishment for Sheba, Keritanima didn't think she could think of it. To stick Sheba into the world of long boring speeches and political backbiting was an eminently suitable punishment for her part in hurting Keritanima's family. Shackling Sheba's free spirit to her chair was a just dessert for what she'd done.

The flogging. She already had a plan for that. It was going to be very exhausting, but there was a way she could protect herself with Sorcery and be inobtrusive about it. She couldn't afford to be bedridden for weeks recovering from one hundred lashes, and the mystique about her would only increase after the flogging.

It really should be today. Her father wasn't about to give her time to attempt to throw up more blocks. Keritanima peeked out of the curtains and looked towards the window. The sun was already above the window, and that meant that it was well into mid-morning. Her father had promised a noontime flogging in the Market Square, and he would deliver on exactly that. That meant that if was going to be today, then it would be very soon. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, a Tellurian device that was amazingly accurate in keeping time, and saw that it was only an hour before noon. Climbing out of bed, she removed her nightgown--she didn't remember putting it on--and tested her strength with the Weave. She was still drained, but she thought she had enough to pull off what she was planning. Her first step was to weave together a Ward, a ward that would repel all things but air and liquids, a Ward that extended no further than a hair's bredth away from her skin. Her fur pierced the Ward, but since the fur was there when the Ward was created and Keritanima took the fur into account when she created the Ward, it would be able to stay as it was when the Ward was made. Sorcery couldn't affect the Sorcerer, but there was nothing stopping her from putting a layer of magical armor as close to her skin as she could get it without touching. Her fur didn't count, because the hairs that made up her fur were dead, where her skin was alive. That was a significant distinction where Sorcery was concerned. She set the Ward so it would sustain itself for some time, hours, and also set it so it would move with her like a form-hugging dress. The problem now was that she couldn't put on clothes aside from a robe. They too would be repelled by the Ward, and since she didn't know what her father would have used to flog her, she was going to take no chances.

She slipped on a robe, looking to see how noticable the fact was that it wasn't touching her. Not that bad. Tying it was a challenge, because the Ward prevented her from grabbing the ties, and the Ward's boundary made everything as slippery to her as a wet fish. Her fur provided some traction, but she had no fur on the gripping pads on her palms and fingers. The only part of her that could touch something was the bottom of her feet, for that was where the Ward ended.

The door opened, and Binter entered carrying a tray of food. "Highness, how is Miranda?" he asked immediately.

"Still sleeping," she replied. "And let her sleep, Binter. She needs it."

"She's been asleep for two days, Highness."

"I know. I checked her, Binter, so don't worry. She's in natural sleep now, and she'll wake up within a couple of hours."

"She'll wake up now," Miranda called groggily from the bed.

Binter and Keritanima looked in that direction, then they rushed over to her. Keritanima kept her distance while Binter put his humongous hand on Miranda's forehead, literally only using one finger to check for fever. "Are you well, Miranda?" he asked.

"I feel like I was dragged behind a carriage," she said weakly. "What happened?"

"You were shot by an assassin," Keritanima said with a bit of seething in her voice. "In the kitchen."

"I remember going into the kitchen with Zak, but nothing after that," she replied a moment later.

"That may be a good thing," Binter told her gently. "Her Highness says that you are best off sleeping, little one. You should go back to sleep."

"In a minute. What did I miss?"

"You missed me killing Arthas Zalan for trying to kill you," Keritanima said bluntly.

"You didn't!"

She nodded grimly. "I had proof of it, so it was legal. Did they ever come and ask about that, Binter?"

He nodded. "They came with a large contingent of guards. I presented the body and pistol and told them what happened. They did not do anything after that other than remove the body for burial."

"Of course not. They know you'd never lie to them. Anyway, Jenawalani, Praki Mation, and Carlis Eward were in on it with him, but they didn't give me the proof I needed to blast them. For once in her life, my little sister kept her mouth shut. More's the pity."

Miranda yawned. "I think going back to sleep is a good idea," she said wearily. "But not until I eat. I'm starving."

"Binter, give her some breakfast," Keritanima ordered. "Then help her change into a new nightgown and get back to sleep."

"You won't need me?"

Keritanima shook her head. "If they come to whip me, they'll make me go alone. You and Zak need to be here to protect Miranda and Kalina, because they're not in a position to protect themselves. Don't worry, I'll be fine," she cut him off with a smile. "I have a plan, Binter."

"I don't have to like it, but if you have a plan, then you must be prepared for it," he said after a moment. "Be careful, Highness. Even the best plan can go awry."

She smiled and nodded, then left her bedchamber.

Kalina was sleeping in the extra bedchamber, she found out from Azakar, who was standing near the door with his sword drawn. He was taking his job of protector very seriously, and that made Keritanima feel a great deal better about leaving them alone. "Zak," she greeted with a nod.

"You should be in bed, Kerri," Azakar said disapprovingly.

"I need to be ready in case they-- " There was a knock at the door. "Well, speak of ill winds, and they fill your sails. Enter," she called to whoever knocked on her door.

It was the Chamberlain. He stepped in and gave Keritanima a terrified look, then cleared his throat and drew himself up. "Princess Keritanima, King Damon Eram orders you to remove your clothes and accept the punishment he has already decreed. Be assured that there are no more laws preventing you from escaping your punishment. Please, for all our sakes, just take it and be done," he added in a very informal tone. "I'll arrange a priest to heal you, but please just get it overwith!"

Keritanima gave the Chamberlain a curious look. Spontaneous words from a Chamberlain? Chamberlains were famous for their strict adherance to their monarch's wishes. Maybe her father had made a mistake in taking this man for his Chamberlain. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

"Of course, my lord Chamberlain," she said casually, daringly pulling her robe open and then letting it fall to the floor. She looked right at him, unblinking, as he gawked a bit at her slender form. That she seemed totally at ease standing naked before him seemed to surprise him.

All that time spent naked with her brother and sister in the baths had done wonders for her self confidence when unclothed. She didn't like being nude, but she found she could accept it and keep her honor, just as Allia always said.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to bite you," she said with a light smile. "Just obey my rules. Firstly, do not touch me. I'll kill anyone who lays a hand on me. Secondly, give me space. If my father wants me to walk to Market Square and back naked, then don't worry about my modesty. I'm a big girl, and I can handle it. Thirdly, I expect protection on the walk up and back. No less than twenty Royal Guardsman. Now then, let's get this overwith."

"I find your conditions acceptable, Highness," the Chamberlain said. "Guards already await you. I'll instruct them to keep a loose cushion around you, but not to touch you."

"Good man," she said.

With a shiver of her tail and a glance back at the others, Keritanima walked out to accept her punishment.

It was an exercise in total humiliation, she realized.

Her father had taken steps. He had seeded the path up to Market Square with spectators, had even called out the Watch to help maintain order. The warm, cloudless day made sure that there would be enough passers by to get caught up in the spectacle as well, and that formed a large crowd. Some of them shouted, some threw things--probably the ones hired by her father to whip up the crowd--but most of them just stood and watched. Many of them were appalled. But to a man or woman, they all noticed that KeritanimaChan Eram, heir to the throne, walked with a calm demeanor and a stoic face. She walked as if she were garbed in the finest gown, walked as if she were strolling in the garden. The fact that she was being paraded through the capital of her kingdom naked seemed to have no effect on her at all.

It did, however. There was a tinge of humiliation, especially when some brash man shouted some rather unflattering or crude comments her way. Each step strengthened her resolve to face up to it with honor, just like Allia taught her, and keep up her appearances. It was vital that she appear before the people as someone in complete control in the face of such abuse, someone that was strong.

The path the Chamberlain led her, a path chosen by her father, was a seriously roundabout route that took them through the richest and the most populated areas of the city. Damon Eram was making sure that everyone saw Keritanima walking the streets of Wikuna naked. Everyone from carriage- riding nobles to rag-clad beggars saw Keritanima's glory, but more than a few noticed the pride she carried on her shoulders as well. They led her along the gardened avenues of the richest neighborhood in Wikuna, they marched her up and down the Boulevard, the main street in Wikuna that was packed with shops and businesses. The Boulevard ran from the northern road out of Wikuna to Market Square, the largest open-air marketplace in Wikuna, and also a place where decrees, proclomations, and public executions and punishments were carried out. Most prisoners and condemned were brought from the Black Fortress, a grim old castle that was now a prison, along Chain Way. An appropriate name, since the prisoners were forced to march from the prison to the square wearing leg irons. Keritanima too walked Chain Way, from just outside the prison and along the entire length of the wide paved street, until Market Square was visible.

It was a huge open area, usually filled with tents and collapsible stalls where merchants and peddlars hawked their wares to the people of the city. City law required all merchants and their tents or stalls to be out of the square by sunset, so the layout of the square changed every day, as peddlars raced each other to set up in the choicest spots at dawn the next day. The result was an ever-changing maze of small tents, leantos, stalls, and sometimes simple tables holding goods from all over the world. It was said that anything could be bought in Wikuna, and that was certainly true in Market Square. Cheap costume jewelry could be standing beside priceless jewels. It was like that because many people found Market Square convenient, where only one stop would allow them to buy everything they needed, so some merchants hired bodyguards to protect their goods and displayed expensive and rare items within the square. Generally, it was known that the better, richer, and more impressive the tent or stall, the higher prices and more expensive merchandise one would find if they shopped there.

The entire center of Market Square was empty, and in its place was the Block. It was a wooden platform erected for public punishments, so the public could get a better look. For executions, a gallows was built on top of it. A huge crowd had formed around the platform, eager for the day's spectacle, filling up the empty space between the platform and the closest tents and stalls. They shouted and jeered as the guards marched the nude Keritanima into the square, filling her ears with a garbled din where all the voices flowed together to create a singular unintelligible roar. But she walked calmly, slowly, making no attempts to conceal herself, giving them all an eyeful.

The Chamberlain stopped at the crude steps leading atop the platform, where three Wikuni waited. A cryer, who would read the sentence, a man to carry it out, and an official witness to the event. Keritanima didn't see her father, or the members of court, but she knew they were there, somewhere close by, watching. Probably in a special tent with bleachers, making wagers on how many lashes Keritanima could take before she passed out.

She would show them.

Keritanima brushed by the Chamberlain without a word, climbing the steps on her own and without being forced. She walked up to the three Wikuni, a lithe ferret Wikuni who wore the livery of a King's servant--the witness--a huge alligator Wikuni wearing the black leather of the Prison Guard--the punisher--and a swallownecked stag Wikuni with a chipped antler, who was the cryer. Keritanima walked up to the exact center of the platform, then stopped and folded her arms patiently.

The crowd lulled as the stag unfurled a parchment in his hands. "Hear ye, Hear ye!" he boomed in an impressively loud voice, a voice that carried to every corner of Market Square. "Be it known by Royal Decree that Keritanima-Chan Eram, Crown Princess of Wikuna, has been pronounced guilty of insolence to the throne, plotting against the King, insubordination, and dereliction of her Royal duties! By the command of King Damon Eram, King of Wikuna, Keritanima- Chan Eram is hereby sentenced to take the lash one hundred times!"

That made the crowd gasp and begin to whisper. Usually even the most horrific crime warranted fifty lashes. Most sentenced to more tended to die during the flogging.

"Does the guilty party wish to make a statement?" the cryer boomed. This was where Damon Eram would give her the opportunity to beg, beg and humiate herself, in the very stark, real face of her punishment. It was actually a clever idea, to deepen her humiliation by letting her face the fact that she had been weak and begged. But she intended to make him eat that decision.

"I do," she said calmly. "If my father is ruthless enough to sentence me to this, just imagine what he'd do to you!" she shouted to the crowd. "I'm here because I did nothing more than embarass my father. Thank the gods I didn't do anything illegal!" She gave the cryer a slight smile. "I'm done. We can get on with this now. My lunch is getting cold."

The cryer gave her a curious look, then he frowned ever-so- slightly. "Then let the will of King Damon Eram be carried out!" he boomed. He turned to the witness, who then nodded to the prison guard who would be the administer of the punishment. The alligator shook out a very long whip, then cracked it to his side a few times to both get out the kinks and prepare the crowd.

Keritanima studied that whip intensely for a long moment, her exceptional mind analyzing its length, its thickness, and the way it moved. Then she closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly, reaching deep within and making a strong connection to the Weave. Once she felt she was ready, she built up a considerable reserve of power, then opened her eyes and began. She started with a weave that placed an image before her eyes, an image only she could see, of her own back. It was a view some twenty feet away, letting her see all four of them on the platform. She absolutely had to be able to see the whip to make this believable. Then she assembled the energies she would need to weave Illusions, and stood ready for the first lash. The appointed punisher reared back with his whip, sized up Keritanima, then snapped it at her.

Crack!

To everyone watching, the whip left an angry red line across Keritanima's back, stripping her fur out and sending it scattering to the platform. The angry line was raw and bloody, but Keritanima did not so much as flinch as it cut across her. In reality, the bloody line was an Illusion, hastily woven by her the instant the whip struck, while a razor-thin weave of Air created a skindeep slice across her back. It was barely enough to cut the skin, but it bled liberally, causing that blood to issue forth from the whipline. That blood would get into her fur and create a physical assurance that the whip was hurting her. She had to be able to see the whip to create the proper image and cut, and by studying how the punisher moved as he prepared to strike, she knew how deep or severe to make the complementary Illusory wound. The fur laying on the platform was a powerful reinforcement of the Illusion she created, a physical sign that the whip had certainly hit her. It made the magically created "wound" that much more believable.

What she was doing was tricky. A Sorcerer usually couldn't weave weaves on herself, but Keritanima was weaving on herself in an indirect manner. She created her weave to manifest in a physical way, and that physical effect was what was causing her wound. She had to be very careful not to let the physical manifestation go too deep, or the flows powering it would merge with the magic inside her, and make all her weavings fizzle. The Illusion would drop, and it would probably also disrupt the Ward, leaving her open and vulnerable to the remainder of the lashes.

The second lash hit her just above the first, making more fur fly and forcing her to conjure up another Illusion and slice. This was why it was going to be such a challenge to her, to create an Illusion, then alter the existing Illusion ninety-nine more times while at the same time weaving a cutting spell of Air to coincide with each Illusion, and do it so fast that both were complete before the lash dropped from her back Then she would have to hold the Illusion for the long walk back to the Palace. Again, she did not flinch at the lash, and it seemed that the onlookers were beginning to notice that.

Resolutely, her face nearly meditatively serene, Keritanima stood there and remained completely motionless as the punisher methodically applied the lash. To the onlookers, her back became a bloody zigzag of long wounds, and her fur laid around her feet in thick clumps. But the immense drain on her was beginning to make her sag slightly, a drain that was only amplified by her overextension the day before, and she began to react to the strike of the whip. That was only logical for anyone watching, as the compounded pain from the lashings took their toll on her body. The platform became peppered with bloody clumps of fur, and it began to stick to the whip, forcing the punisher to pause to clean it off between lashes.

After what seemed an eternity of counting, Keritanima counted the hundreth lash. It struck her squarely in the buttocks, right over the base of her tail, and he had aimed there on purpose. She was forced to conjure the appropriate Illusion and cut herself right across the backside. The indignation of that roused her from her bone-weariness, an exhaustion that had caused her to get lost in the seeming endless repetition of altering her Illusion and slashing herself with a razor-edge of Air to bring out real blood from the inhibited whipstrike. After that hundreth lash, her entire back burned and throbbed. One hundred cuts created a patchwork over her back, and almost all the fur had been stripped off by the whip. It made moving her arms or tail a painful procedure, and she could feel the blood oozing through the fur on the backs of her legs and down her tail. She gave the punishing Wikuni an evil stare, then crossed her arms and looked at the witness expectantly.

"Well? Make your declaration so I can go home," she told him impatiently. The pain of the cuts she'd put in her own back was merging with her exhaustion to draw her face, and make her pant heavily when not actively speaking. Her tongue lolled out from the side of her maw for a moment, but she recovered herself and put on the appearance of a Princess, a supposedly super-Wikuni figure impervious to such things as mortal pain.

He gaped at her. After one hundred lashes, she should have been laying unconscious on the platform! But there she stood, obviously in pain but trying to look only mildly discomfited by the flogging. It made her seem super-Wikuni, larger than life, and it made him forget his duty for a moment and stare at her in shock. She could see what he was thinking in his eyes. That she was obviously hurt, but she wasn't about to give her father the satisfaction of seeing her faint, grovel, beg, or in any way knuckle under to his punishment. Her standing there after one hundred lashes was a defiant display, a testament to the intense, passionate hatred she had for her father, a hatred so intense that she would push herself past her physical limits just to spite him.

"I declare the punishment to be rendered," he called in a startled voice.

That was when she noticed the silence. She turned partially and looked out over the crowd, looking at their faces. Fur, leather, scale, and feather, as the old saying went about Wikuni crowds. Those faces stared at her in surprise, in awe, and then someone in the back shouted her name. "Keritanima!" he called. "Keritanima!"

More than one took up the call. In seconds, nearly the entire crowd was chanting her name rhythmically, pumping their fists in time with the cadence. "Ker-ree-TAH-nee- MAH!" the crowd shouted in unison, clamoring forward against the guards there to keep them from the base of the platform.

She had no idea why they were doing it. She stared at them in genuine surprise and dismay, staring down at thousands of faces fervently chanting her name. Why would they do such a thing? They should be afraid of her, afraid of her being able to withstand a punishment that would put the hardiest man on his knees. But there they were, chanting her name, surging forward against the guards in an attempt to get closer to her. Why, for the gods' sake? Why?

Then it hit her. These were the common people, the masses which had struggled under the heel of her father's oppressive rule. The people who had to endure the crushing taxes, the long hours of labor for noble-owned companies, the people who saw their children go hungry in order to pay the crown its fair share of their bounty. The backbone of their nation. And they saw her as something of a heroine. The defiant daughter of the king, who wasn't as bratty as she pretended to be all those years, who was willing to stand up to his punishments and his power, to spit in his face and do the one thing that all of them wanted to do.

To tell Damon Eram to go piss up a flagpole.

She may not be their savior, but at least her defiance gave them a feeling of satisfaction, and that was why they were chanting her name. They knew that Damon Eram would be livid that he had failed to break his daughter, and the people took great satisfaction from that simple truth.

"Well then," Keritanima said lightly to the witness over the din. "Now that we've entertained the people, I think I'd like to go home now."

The royal servant stared at the chanting people in surprise, then looked at Keritanima and nodded solemnly. "Bring up a coach!" he shouted to one of the guards.

"No," Keritanima said, trying to keep her knees from wobbling. "I walked here, I'll walk back, and I'll be damned if I give my father an excuse to say that I didn't accept his punishment."

Keritanima found herself surrounded by guards, who were themselves surrounded by a throng of accompanying citizens, escorting the princess home as they shouted her name and called to her. Keritanima tried to ignore them, focusing all her concentration on fighting off the pain and retaining the Illusion that her back resembled ground meat more than a living body. She put one foot in front of the other, repeating it over and over again, letting the guards guide her home. Those guards didn't wander around as they escorted the princess back home. The shouting crowd caused them to turn straight up the Boulevard, the fastest way back to the Palace. She was drained, exhausted, in considerable pain--but a great deal less than if she'd really been whipped!--and had to struggle to maintain the Illusion. But she made it back to the Palace, leaving the crowd behind, escorted right back to the door to her apartment.

Back in Market Square, those who watched the flogging talked about it to each other the rest of the day. Some of the more daring rushed onto the Block and collected up tufts of Keritanima's bloody fur, rushing away with them. Word spread throughout the city about the Crown Princess, how she had stood on the Block, naked as the day she was born, and took one hundred lashes without fainting. How she had stood in defiance to the King by refusing to fall to the whip, then had bravely refused to be carried home, deciding instead to finish her father's punishment by walking back to the Palace. Her statements also were recanted over and over, about how a father could possible order his own child flogged, and dimming the already dark opinion the people had for their King. Damon Eram was notorious for his ruthlessness and viciousness, and his crushing taxes and oppressive laws made more than a few of his subjects grumble and mutter when his name was spoken.

To them, Keritanima's display of outright defiance was bolstering, was heartening. It told the people that at least one person in Wikuna wasn't afraid to stand up to Damon Eram.

Keritanima gasped and flinched from the cold cloth soaked with vinegar placed on her back. Binter seemed unimpressed by her display, continuing to very gently wash out the cuts that Keritanima had inflicted upon herself during the flogging. She lay on her belly on her bed, a pillow under her chest and propped up on her elbows, holding as still as she could to get it overwith. Kalina, Azakar, and Miranda attended her, Azakar keeping his back turned modestly and making a show out of watching the bedroom door. Keritanima was still nude.

"Ow!" Keritanima barked. "Binter, you don't have to be so rough!"

"I barely touched you, Highness," Binter chided in his deep voice. "Hold still. I don't see how this can hurt more than what I see here."

"The wine stings, you blockhead!" she snapped. "Why did you soak it in wine?"

"Vinegar," he corrected. "It cleanses the wound and prevents infection."

"It's going to kill me!" she declared in a woeful voice, flattening the bridge of her muzzle on the bed and hissing as he applied the cloth again.

"What possessed you to let them whip you, Keritanima?" Kalina asked curiously.

"I didn't let them whip me," she said in a hissing voice. "But I had to make it believable. I had to make sure they believed they were whipping me."

"So what are these? Love bites?"

"Slashes," Binter said. "Done by something like a razor, from the neatness of the wounds."

"Something like that," Keritanima winced. "I used Sorcery to do that."

"You cut yourself?" Kalina asked in shock.

"It was the knife or the whip," she replied bluntly, sucking in her breath and flinching against the cloth. "If I'd have chosen the whip, I'd be ten times worse off."

"Keritanima used her magic to make it appear that they were flogging her," Miranda explained. "The loss of her fur and the blood were vital to making that performance look real."

"I can understand that, but to cut yourself up," Kalina said with a shudder. "You're a better man than me, Keritanima."

"Thanks," she drawled.

"Why don't you just heal yourself, like you did for Miranda?"

"I can't heal myself," she grunted. "Believe me, if I could, I'd be doing it right now. Sorcerers can't use their magic on themselves."

"Why?"

"Do you really want the explanation?" Keritanima asked pointedly.

"Uh, no, nevermind," Kalina said. "I'll take your word for it."

"Good. Ow!" she gasped, flinching from the cloth as Binter placed it on her buttocks.

"I've been bitten there, but never cut," Kalina remarked absently.

"I'm sure my world would have ended if you wouldn't have told me that," Keritanima snapped waspishly.

"I think you should go before you upset her Highness," Binter suggested to the fox Wikuni.

"She already has!" Keritanima said with a hiss.

"I'll go now," Kalina noted calmly, then scurried out.

"Fine!" Keritanima snapped. "Ow! Binter!"

"Hold still," he said adamantly, putting a huge hand on her shoulder and pushing her down into the mattress. "The more you move, the more this will hurt, and the longer it will take."

"I saw the crowd from the window," Miranda mused. "What was that all about?"

"Beats the bloody hell out of me," Keritanima replied in a curiousy amazed voice. "They were cheering me at the end. I think it's because they're starting to get very unhappy about the new taxes and the rough treatment they're getting from my father. I think they saw me as a rallying point to voice their displeasure."

"That's good for us."

Keritanima nodded. "It'll give my father something else to worry about."

"Now what happens?" Azakar asked from the door.

"Zak, you don't have to be so modest," Keritanima told him. "If I was so worried about you seeing my butt, I'd have a sheet drawn over it."

"Someone has to watch the door, Kerri," he said calmly.

"Be that way then," she giggled, then she hissed. "Ow! Binter!"

"I am nearly finished," he said calmly. "These require bandages."

"I know. It's how I'm going to hide the fact that I'm not as hurt as it looked," she agreed. "It's going to itch like crazy."

"Better itch than pain," Azakar remarked from the door.

"At least they didn't take any fur off my tail. A girl has to have at least one vanity." She put her muzzle on her folded arms and relaxed a bit. "Anyway, Zak, as to what happens now, the answer is not much," she replied. "I need out of this room to start the next phase. After whipping me, my father will probably keep me in here for a couple more days, then lift my restriction and demand I attend court."

"Why would he want to do that?"

"To look at me and know he had me beaten, for one," she replied calmly. "He'll also want to see who I talk to and what I do, since he can't rely on spies to watch us in here. He knows I'm up to something, so he'll allow me to carry on with it so he can get an idea of what it is and try to put a stop to it."

"Just like sending scouts to determine the size of an opposing army," the Mahuut reasoned.

"Something like that," she agreed. "Bringing me into court is exactly what I want him to do. So far, he hasn't disappointed me, so I doubt he will over this either."

Azakar looked in her direction, then blushed and turned away again. "How can you manipulate him like that?" he asked.

"I'm not. I just know my father," she replied. "He's actually a rather clever person, but he's somewhat cautious when it comes to political intrigue. The most cautious thing to do in his position is let me out of my room and let me plot, so he can see it coming. The only way to completely stop me is to throw me in prison, and that's something that he won't do. At least if I'm out in the open, he knows he has a chance of intercepting my plans and countering them."

"So, you're making your plans based on what you think he's going to do."

"Exactly."

"And you have plans in case he does something else."

"Of course. An unprepared general usually loses, Zak."

"Why wouldn't he throw you in prison?"

"Because I'd just break out of it, Zak," she smiled at his back sweetly. "He knows he can't hold me, and if I break out of prison and vanish, then I'll be on the loose and he'll have no idea what I intend to do. He'd much rather have me where he can keep an eye on me. There's an old saying that--"

"'Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,'" Azakar interrupted.

"Exactly. I'm too dangerous to let loose unsupervised. He'll want to keep me where he can have people report every word I say in triplicate."

"I guess that makes sense."

"I'll make a spy out of you yet, Zak."

"I hope not," Azakar grumbled. "I don't have the patience for this stuff. I'd rather just march up to someone and stick a sword in them. It's much simpler."

"True, but that's what makes anarchy different from civilization," she chuckled.

In one respect, Damon Eram surprised his daughter.

She sat in her room and stewed for nearly a full week.

She needed the time, she had to admit. The cuts weren't deep, but one hundred of them had taken their toll on her. She had trouble moving around, and it made her short tempered. She had refused repeatedly any attempt to have the Royal priests heal her with magic, instead allowing them to believe that she had healed herself. She couldn't do that, but they didn't know that, and a bit of artful misinformation worked in her favor on that matter. They had seen her up and about the very next day, wearing a robe tied very loosely and obviously having bandages on underneath. It was obvious that she was in pain, but she wouldn't allow them to inspect the wounds, so they had no idea how badly she was still hurt, but had obviously done something magical to herself to allow her to be standing so soon after taking such a brutal punishment. She had politely refused their invitations to heal her, and refused them three times a day for the next six days. They came with each meal brought to her room, to offer their assistance to her.

That surprised her. She thought that her father would leave her to suffer, and would bring her into court just as soon as she could stand without fainting as a very visible reminder to everyone that he was in charge, and that he could deal with his daughter's disobedience. That he would back off and give her time to mend, even allow priests to come and offer healing, was unexpected. It seemed to her that he was jeopardizing his position by doing it, so she had to sit back and think about it for quite a while, imagining the situation through her father's eyes and considering all the information she could get from Miranda. Though punishing her more would indeed reinforce his power to court, she realized that now he was dealing with much more serious issues. The public reaction to her flogging had been a political disaster, she'd found out from one of Miranda's many excursions to gather news and gossip. The people had taken a very ugly view of the Crown Princess being so blatantly humiliated, and there was even some disapproval from the noble houses. Not that Keritanima was punished, but that if Damon Eram had the nerve to do that to the heir to the throne, then he wouldn't have any mercy to anyone else. Damon Eram had been trying to establish his dominance, and it had backfired on him on more than one level.

So, taking that into account, she could see the logic in her father's actions now. He was being considerate to her needs to mollify the noble houses and try to establish some damage control with the commoners. Her father didn't fear the possibility of a revolt, but for him, any distractions right now were major. He was still reeling from the assassin's scythe she had swept through his more trusted advisors and servants some months before, and the current major events were making his precarious situation even worse. Damon Eram had, on the average, about three plots against him by various noble houses to topple him from the throne and rise a new house up to the monarchy at any given time. Those too were probably wearing at him, forcing him to work with fewer resources to protect himself. The fact that he he had raised taxes so high was a clear indication of how desparate he was. House Eram's trading business was sagging, due to some major losses of ships and their cargos over the last few months, due to sabotage. Some other house had begun to attack Damon Eram through the ability of his noble house to make money. That was another reason he raised taxes so high. Without the income of the house to help fund his political operations, he had to find that money from somewhere else.

And now Keritanima was back, and it was clear to him that she was going to fight him. She established that in the throne room, and at first her father's pride and anger had caused him to make the decisions he did. She had counted on that. But now his reason was starting to reassert itself, and he was beginning to show signs of getting back to the shrewd, cunning policital manipulator that he was.

She was also counting on that. That political cunning would cause her father to bring her into court, where he could keep an eye on her. If he reacted out of anger, he would have her thrown in prison. Then again, prison was no longer an option. He would suffer a serious loss of face if he imprisoned her now, something that he wasn't in a position to afford at the moment.

The time let her heal, but it chafed at her. She would often pace angrily, furious at the delay, yet unable to do anything about it. The information Miranda brought in was all she had, and it was usually enough. There were the usual hints and rumors of this or that plot, of who had on what gods-awful dress at the last party, who had been caught ruffling fur with whom in secluded corners, who had said what about whom in the endless war of rumors and innuendos meant to sully reputations and reduce status among the noble social circles. There was a great deal of talk of new maneuvering around the King, about how many felt that Keritanima's appearance was the perfect opportunity to do something about Damon Eram. After all, any plot that failed could simply be blamed on the Princess. It would make those with eyes on the throne very bold, and that would make her father very defensive.

That was what she wanted.

She needed her father to be upset and out of position to counter those plots. It would keep his mind off of what she was really doing.

The next step in her plan dealt with the nobles. They had to both present a challenge to Damon Eram, yet be in no position to threaten her when her plan succeeded and she took his crown. There was a very delicate balance in arranging that, and it hinged on keeping them too busy with each other to worry about the crown. The business of arranging that had already begun. Miranda had delivered a series of instructions to Ulfan about what she wanted done, and she had also begun to plant certain vague rumors about several noble houses.

The noble houses of Wikuna had a very regimented rank system, that was based on the size of the house and the amount of money it had. The house of Eram was considered highest ranked, because it was the Royal House. Without the Royal status, house Eram would rank about tenth among the assorted houses. House Eram had a very lucrative business, but the house was smaller than it had been in many years. And Damon Eram was the reason for that. By killing off anyone who could challenge him for the throne, he reduced house Eram from twenty members to four. Damon Eram, Keritanima, Jenawalani, and Veranika. Rank was important, but it had nothing to do with holding the throne. When it came to holding the throne, that was when raw military power and political jockeying came into play. A house held the throne because it was backed up by other houses, or it had utter control of the military, or both. House Eram had been in power long enough for Damon Eram to have that control of the military, even though he lacked the support of the other noble houses. The army and navy was loyal to the crown, and that made them loyal to Damon Eram, because he was the undisputed ruler of Wikuna. That meant that anyone who wanted the crown had to fight the military to get it. No noble house had the manpower to face Wikuna's military in a coup, and that would plummet Wikuna into a bloody and savage civil war.

Things were already tense. The largest houses, Zalan, Tarn, and Alagon, had called up much of their private armies to Wikuna, reportedly to protect their interests. Other houses, rivals of those houses, called in their own armies to protect themselves from their forces. That placed a very large hostile force at Damon Eram's doorstep, so he had called in the army to counter any ideas of an alliance between the houses to topple him. It was a powder keg waiting to explode, and Keritanima had already given Miranda the matches to light it. As soon as Keritanima was let out of the room, she would set the fuse to go off at a time of her choosing, then stand back and watch the fireworks.

With the noble houses embroiled in interhouse squabbling, it would keep them too busy to really do anything against the crown. The key laid in arranging things so the fighting began just before she made her run at her father's throne. That wasn't all that difficult, because to make the noble houses bite on her bait, she had to have a reasonable amount of time to lay down rumors and innuendo, then plant certain evidence here and there to back those rumors up. She had to make it subtle, so it would look like the house's spies uncovered a secret plot, rather than having everything laying out in the open and obvious. The longer it took them to uncover the "plot," the more believable it would appear to them. It was a game she had played before many times, and it was a game at which she excelled. The easiest way to neutralize an enemy was to give them another, more immediate, enemy to fight. It worked at a personal level, it worked at a group level, and it worked at a noble house level equally well.

It would all start with a simple note.

The note was easy enough to write. Keritanima took care of that on the sixth day of her convalescence, a short note written in a bold, flaring style to the new head of house Zalan, Sheba Zalan. Miranda had told her that Sheba was not taking well to her new role, and that her uncles, aunts, and her great uncle all were considering supplanting her and taking control of the house. That meant that her life was in very serious danger. Without her doting father to protect her, she couldn't go back to piracy, and the large bounty on her head in the East would make taking a commercial ship to trade suicide. That meant that her only way to maintain the money and high life she liked was to be a decent house matriarch. The note, written in a perfect imitation of her father's writing, invited Sheba to the Palace for a personal audience. The term "personal audience" where her father was concerned was a notorious statement. It meant that he either had a sexual attraction for the recipient of the note, or he or she was being invited to his or her own murder. Damon Eram wasn't unknown for dalliances with the more attractive noble ladies, whether they were married or not.

It was a perfect situation for Keritanima. With Sheba's control of her fortunes--her very life--at stake, she'd jump at the chance to talk to the King. House Zalan had been in secret negotiations to form an alliance by marriage to house Eram anyway, so the note would have a sharp ring of truth in it. Since the note specifically said for Sheba to come after court and meet him in his chambers, she would probably take it as an invitation to wrestle in the sheets. And Sheba would find it irresistable. Sheba lived for danger and excitement, and the opportunity for such an unknown, exciting experience would draw her like bees to honey. Even if she found her father repugnant, the idea of a midnight interlude with him would be powerful for her, powerful enough for her to show up, even if to just tell him no.

The result of that would make it look like house Zalan and the King were close to an alliance. The other large houses would take exception to that, and begin plans to drive a wedge between Damon Eram and Sheba. The smaller houses would increase their mercenary forces because of the activity, and that would heighten the tensions. It was an all-around perfect situation.

Keritanima had little else to do but make plans for those seven days. On the morning of the eighth day, the Chamberlain arrived with the morning meal, as had become the custom. But this time, he handed Keritanima a wax-stamped envelope. "His Majesty hopes you are well enough to attend court this day, Highness," he said simply.

"Is this a summons?" she asked, holding up the envelope.

"No, your Highness, that is a letter that was delivered to the Palace this morning by messenger. I'm afraid I don't know who sent it."

"Thank you, my Lord Chamberlain," she said absently, tapping the envelope in her hand as she pondered its contents. "I'm well enough to manage court. Tell my father I'll be there."

He nodded calmly and beckoned the servants to hurry with the setting up of breakfast, then took his leave. Keritanima followed Miranda and Azakar as they carried the meal into her bedroom, where Kalina and Binter waited for them, tapping the letter against her muzzle curiously. She sat down with the others and let Kalina take her pick of the morning's plates as she opened the letter and quickly scanned it. "Good news," she said, pausing to touch the Weave and sweep the area for unfriendly ears or unusual concentrations of magic on the Weave. She'd discovered that those magical concentrations were Priest spells, and it had been a simple task to learn how to disrupt them. "It's from Ulfan. He'll be ready."

"You expected him not to be?" Kalina asked.

"It was a big job I asked him to do, Kalina," she replied.

"He must have a code if he sent you a letter," Azakar noted.

Keritanima nodded. "We worked it out a long time ago," she replied. "This letter reads like it's from a young girl. It's full of flowery gushing, but the signals are there and in the proper order."

"That's one thing we don't have to worry about," Miranda mused. "What do you want to wear to court?"

"This," she said, pointing at the rather plain gray dress she was wearing.

Kalina frowned slightly. "Why wear that when you can wear something pretty?"

"Because father took it all, remember?" she said pointedly.

"Oh. I'm still not used to that."

"Keep your mind on what we're doing, Kalina," Keritanima grinned.

There was little fanfare regarding her return to court. She simply walked in as the courtiers stood in pockets and chatted idly. She was a bit late, but they hadn't told her to attend at any specific time, so her being late was of no consequence. Her father sat on his throne, speaking with some of his advisors, obviously not holding a formal audience at the moment. He looked right at her when she entered the Hall, but she didn't deign to meet that gaze. She simply melted from his sight and joined the first pocket of gossiping nobles she could.

The first day back in court was like a slap in her face. It was the same as she remembered, full of insincere simpering little sneaks out to better themselves at everyone else's expense. Damon Eram's court was a viper pit of rumors, insults, accusations, and alliances forged and broken in the same day. To a man or woman, they all congratulated her on her speedy recovery and wished her the best through bright smiles, but their scents told her that they'd wished she'd dropped dead on the Block. She found their insults tiresome and irritating, and when she would before resort to the Brat's vapidness to deflect such inane banter, all she could do now was stare at someone saying something she didn't like until he or she got uncomfortable enough to stop. Keritanima moved from group to group, listening to the current rumors and gossip, and aware that her father almost always kept his eyes on her. She didn't glance at him, didn't stare, barely acknowledged his presence. She wasn't the only Eram on the floor, either. Both Jenawalani and Veranika were attending court, wearing their expensive gowns and their ridiculously large jewels. Jenawalani glared at Keritanima every time their eyes met, but Veranika, Keritanima's youngest raccoon Wikuni sister, shied away from making eye contact with her, and tried to stay as far from the Crown Princess as she could. That was heartening. Veranika was a schemer, but she was much more timid than Jenawalani. Her schemes were more aligned with how well she could pad her future, for she felt that her chances to take the throne were slim. Veranika wouldn't engage in murder unless she was absolutely convinced she could get away with it. She wouldn't take chances, and in the dangerous world of intrigue, that meant that she rarely engaged in serious plots.

The Chamberlain rapped his staff of office on the floor smartly, causing all chatter to ebb off. "His Majesty, King Damon Eram, commands court to fall silent so formal audience can be conducted," he announced in a loud, calm voice.

They all fell silent and joined into groups on either side of the central aisle.

Damon Eram stood and adjusted his Royal robe a bit. "The crown has received word that Baron Elkess of Thistlethorn has passed away. He had no heir, so We hereby decree that his title, lands, and material worth be absorbed by the Crown."

That caused a bit of whispering. Elkess was a recluse, who rarely left his desmense. He also was one of the Houseless, a noble that belonged to no noble house. But he was rumored to be very, very rich, because he was an exceptionally gifted organizer and businessman. He had been old, a widower whose son and daughter had both died in a shipwreck some fifteen years past. Keritanima was quick enough to understand that Damon Eram had probably had Elkess prematurely sent on so that he could exercise his Royal privilege to reclaim the Baron's lands. And since he had no heir, his money and possessions also became property of the Crown.

Keritanima was mildly impressed. To pad his own pockets to fund his intrigue, Damon Eram was killing off his heirless nobles to annex their property. That was a rather clever way to work up some quick funding. And of course, nobody would be able to track it back to him. He was much too good for that.

She pondered that development as the King received some diplomat from the East, tuning out the flowery exchanges as she considered what changes she may need to make to her own plans to take into account the extra resources her father would have available.

"I'm sure that the Crown Princess has so much more worthwhile things to do than acknowledge the greeting of Ambassador Yorin of Tor," Damon Eram called loudly in a waspish voice.

Keritanima looked up and found herself looking at a young human with dark hair, an oily expression, and a very snappy gray waistcoat in the Wikuni style. "Actually I do, but this is where I guess I should be remarking that my world has become brighter for meeting you," she told the human with a whimsical, toothy grin, offering her hand for him to kiss.

"You will afford his Excellency proper respect!" Damon Eram boomed at her.

"I don't know...are you worth respecting, your Excellency?"

Yorin gaped at her a second, then he broke out into delighted laughter. "My mother would disagree with me, but I would have to say I am," he returned.

"I think I'll side with your mother. She's probably a better judge of character," Keritanima winked.

"Cease this insolence, daughter!" Damon Eram said in a strangled tone.

"Posh," Keritanima sniffed. "If you want to see insolence, father, I can certainly oblige you. Now go back to your toys and let me continue my discussion with His Excellency here."

The fur on Damon Eram's face instantly ruffled up, and he gripped his scepter like a mace for a moment. "Perhaps her Highness would like another lesson in manners," Damon Eram warned ominously.

"Perhaps his Majesty has the steel rod stuck too far up his--"

"Keritanima!" Damon Eram blasted, jumping to his feet.

Keritanima crossed her arms under her breasts, assumed an impatient pose, and stared at her father.

"I think you forget that nothing stops me from handling you in any way I please," he warned.

"I think you should get off of yourself and lighten up," she snorted. "I'm sure his Excellency realized I was making light."

"You will conduct yourself as a Crown Princess!" he shouted.

"I am," she said with a mild grin. "As the heir to the throne, it's expected for me to sometimes act outside of the shadow of the king. My style of governing will be different from yours. I'm merely displaying my individuality. It's called preparing for the mantle of leadership."

He gave her a strange look, then sat back down. Her indirect mention of taking his throne had had its intended effect. "I'll forgive your impertinence this time, but watch your mouth, daughter."

"Whatever," she returned, turning her back to him and returning to the crowd of court.

That exchange caused her to become something of a pariah among the other courtiers. Fearing her father's wrath, nobody wanted to talk to her for the rest of the day, so she simply stood by herself and used Sorcery to eavesdrop on the private conversations of others. It was a much more profitable enterprise after she began using Sorcery to listen to everyone else. She became privy to any number of dirty secrets, plots, schemes, dalliances, and juicy tidbits. So many that she had to stop and think about things for nearly an hour, sitting on a chair far to one side, pondering the significance of many of the things she heard.

And in that pondering, a plan began to form. It was a simple plan, but it would give her father something to chase. He knew she was up to something. It would behoove her to let him think he knew what it was.

Something that would make him drop everything.

A word to a servant had Miranda before her with Binter some ten minutes later. Miranda was curious, it was all over her face. Calling her to court was something that Miranda hadn't expected. "You sent for me, Highness?" she asked curiously.

"I want you to send a message to a woman named Lizelle Sailmender," she said calmly. "She's a commoner who owns a trading business. Tell her that I'd be most pleased to meet her at the Dancing Swan inn tomorrow at noon."

Miranda gave her a very long, very uncertain look, but the calm assurance in Keritanima's eyes made her finally nod. "I think I know that name, Highness," she replied finally. "I'll send the message."

"Good. You're dismissed."

Miranda curtsied gracefully, as she was required to do when dealing with Keritanima in public.

Keritanima sat back down. She'd give her father something very interesting to chase. Something interesting indeed.

"I'm still not sure about this," Kalina said uncertainly as their carriage wound its way to the Dancing Swan. Keritanima had chosen it because it was large, it was expensive, it was opulent, and it was well known for being a good place to conduct business. The staff was famous for their silence, their tact, and their loyalty to that silence, allowing any number of people of high station to discuss business not meant to be bandied about court or in the parlors of noble homes. Kalina was dressed up as Keritanima, complete with bandages under her plain brown dress. Keritanima wore the plain, elegant gown, subtle make-up, and severe hairstyle that would make people identify her immediately as Lizelle Sailmender. Miranda, Azakar, and Binter were also along, seated with them in the carriage. All of them had strict instructions to keep quiet. Miranda wasn't supposed to know what Keritanima was up to, to keep her somewhat safe, and her bodyguards wouldn't speak anyway.

Getting out had been no problem. When her father commanded her to court, he had also lifted the restriction against staying in her room. He was letting her out to let her go about her scheming, and she had no doubt that he had a veritable pack of spies and observers ready to follow her every move.

"Don't worry at it, Keritanima," Keritanima said pointedly. "You remember what to say?" Kalina nodded. "Then there's nothing to worry about."

"How are we going to explain how we picked you up?"

"We're not," Keritanima said calmly. "It'll give them something to stew over."

"Oh. Alright." Kalina gloomed a moment. "If I'd have only known," she sighed.

"You'd never have pulled it off," Keritanima grinned. "You do good with me, but you'd never fool my employees. Even if you did, the first time you demanded money, they'd know you were an imposter."

"I could have tried."

"And been executed for grand thievery," Keritanima winked.

"It would have been worth the risk."

"Don't worry. After all is said and done, you're going to be a very, very rich little girl, Kerri."

Kalina absolutely beamed.

The interior of the Dancing Swan was made for nobles in mind. Gold gilded frames held within breathtaking works of art. Ancient tapestries vied for wall space with those paintings, and the floors were covered with Eastern and Arakite carpets. The inn was arranged with a long, narrow common room with elegantly built booths lining each wall. The booths were large, voluminous, and they had ivy- covered walls to separate them from one another. That ivy also helped muffle sound, protecting the privacy of each party. Well- dressed servants glided from table to table, serving sumptuous meals or rare and expensive wines and liquors to the patrons. Keritanima simply waited for Kalina to demand a booth, and a thin, graceful little deer Wikuni woman curtsied deeply to her and showed them to a booth about halfway down on the right side of the wall.

Kalina sat down first, and Binter immediately sat down beside her, to block her off from the outside. Azakar sat beside Keritanima, to protect her should someone attack her and allow Binter to reinforce the image that Kalina was actually Keritanima. Miranda sat down beside Azakar and made a show of looking bored, when she was actually watching out for eavesdroppers.

Just not too hard. Keritanima wanted them to be overheard.

"It is not often I am called to an audience with Royalty," Keritanima began in that stiff-necked voice that Lizelle owned. "However, whatever immature flights of fancy you possess are of little concern to me. I am a busy woman, your Highness. State your business."

"How would you like to see the commoner's tax repealed?" Kalina asked in a mild voice.

Keritanima raised a brow. "You have my attention," she said calmly.

"I've always been very curious about you, Lizelle," Kalina said in her excellent imitation of Keritanima's voice. "And not because we're both foxes. You've managed to come a very long way without a title, and I can respect you for it. But I feel that you could go alot further if the commoner's tax was removed. It would make things an even game between you and the businesses of the noble houses."

"I've made no secret of my outrage over those taxes, your Highness," Keritanima stated. "They are nothing but a chain locked to my leg, to keep me in my perceived place. But as much as I would like to see the repeal of those taxes, it makes me wonder what I would have to do to gain it."

"Nothing dangerous," Kalina assured. "I only need a message delivered to someone on Sennadar. A message I would prefer not be intercepted. I can't trust any noble-backed house or ship to do that."

"That is all?"

"That's all."

"I will not risk my position or my business over something I don't know," Keritanima announced. "I will know the content of this message. If I find it safe to deliver, then we have an agreement. If not, we'll leave here with my promise that the message will go no further."

"I find your terms one-sided."

"You deal from a weak position. Since I have something you want, you must be prepared to pay for it."

"They said you were a wolverine," Kalina grunted. "I should have listened to them."

"I am a businesswoman, Highness," Keritanima said calmly. "No more, no less."

Kalina frowned. "Alright. The message is for a man named Darvon. He's the Lord General of the Knights of Karas. You'll find him in Suld. I want to know if he can spare a hundred Knights to journey to Wikuna."

"A strange request."

"Just tell him I found what Tarrin is looking for," she said calmly. "I need the Knights to retrieve it and take it back to Suld, so they can get it to Sharadar. That's the only place it can be kept safely, and the Knights are the only ones trustworthy enough to carry it."

"Will he understand the message?" Keritanima asked.

"When he hears it, I guarantee you he'll lose ten years off his age and do backflips," Kalina replied with a toothy grin. "But I want the message delivered by you personally," Kalina demanded. "I'll give you a letter of introduction that will assure him you're there on my behalf."

Keritanima leaned back and thought about it. "I find your proposal...intriguing," she said finally. "I will accept."

"Good, but you have to leave today," Kalina insisted. "And you have to be careful. You may not want company following you."

"I will not risk my ship or my men for a simple message," Keritanima said stiffly.

"I'm not asking you to," Kalina said smoothly. "The message has no real importance for anyone in Wikuna, Mistress Lizelle. It's a matter between me and my brother. I'm doing this for him."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Keritanima said.

"Not by blood, but he's as close as a brother to me," Kalina said calmly.

"Why would this message need me to be careful?"

"Because right now, the seas are a dangerous place," Kalina told her. "There are Zakkite triads everywhere. Travelling alone would give you a better chance of getting through unmolested."

"I sense deception, Highness, but a little danger is worth the profit of being freed from the commoner's tax," Keritanima said after a moment. "I accept your proposal."

"Then let's go visit your trading company and select a good ship," Kalina proposed.

"Indeed. I suppose I can have my man arrange for my absence."

"You'll need clothes."

"I keep a packed trunk at my trading company, Highness," she said calmly. "Sometimes the pursuit of profit requires unexpected trips. It's not the first time I've dropped everything for a sudden voyage."

"Then let's get started."

The group got up without so much as buying a drink and quietly filed out the door.

And left unmitigated chaos in their wake.

"How did I do?" Kalina asked when they were in their carriage and safely on the move.

Keritanima laughed and patted her hand. "Kalina, you were perfect!" she announced with a wide grin.

"I have to admit, Kalina, you really know how to impersonate Kerri," Miranda praised. "I was starting to wonder who was who."

Azakar was brooding a bit. "I'm starting to feel left out," he grunted. "I don't understand a word of what anyone says."

"I told you that Wikuni takes time to learn," Keritanima told him patiently.

"What did we just do?"

"Keritanima is having Lizelle go to Suld, and tell Darvon to send Knights, because she knows where the Firestaff is," Miranda told him with a cheeky grin.

Azakar gave Miranda a wild look, then he laughed. "Kerri, that's awful!" he said with a huge smile. "You're going to turn all Wikuna inside out!"

"And your point is?" Keritanima winked, then she laughed with him.

"What is this Firestaff?" Kalina asked.

"Just the most powerful magical artifact in the world, Kalina," Keritanima replied easily. "Right now, half the world is hunting for it, and kingdoms are getting into wars over mere rumors of where it lies. My father will have a fit when he hears that, because he wants the Firestaff for himself." She picked at her dress absently. "He knows that I was travelling with people looking for it. He'll bite at my bait."

"So will half the noble houses," Miranda added with an evil little smile.

"And they'll all be looking right at me," Keritanima grinned. "They won't dare touch me, because if I die, then my secret dies with me. And they'll do almost anything to hear that secret. I expect to become a very popular girl by late tomorrow afternoon." She looked at Binter and Azakar. "And you two have a very important job."

"What is that, Highness?" Binter asked. He never liked riding in carriages, for few could make him sit comfortably in their tight confines.

"Protect Miranda," she said bluntly. "I'm safe. She is not. They'll come after her to get to me, so you two have to keep a very careful eye on her for me."

"It will be as you command, Highness," Binter said easily.

"What about me?" Kalina demanded.

"You'll be safe enough, Kalina," Keritanima grinned.

"Why do you say that?"

"You'll see."

Keritanima moved swiftly into the trade compound when they arrived, all but running up to her private office. The others had to follow behind, and notice the strangled looks and hasty bows as some of the workers identified Kalina as Keritanima. She was tearing into her closet, pulling out her clothes trunk she kept there and having Binter put it up on her desk. Rallix nearly ran into the room a moment later, giving the scene a startled look as he closed the door. "Well, your Highness," Rallix said calmly. "I never expected to see you in the same room with Lady Lizelle."

"And why is that, Rallix?" Keritanima asked in her stern Lizelle voice.

"I'm not a fool, Lizelle," Rallix said to her directly. "Or, should I address you as Princess Keritanima?"

Keritanima stared at him.

"I must admit, you did do wonders at making Lizelle look much different from Keritanima. Seeing the two of you in the same room reminds me of how different you two appear, and yet also so similar. She's very good, your Highness," he praised, motioning at Kalina. "Where did you find her?"

Miranda laughed, and that drew a curious, confused look from Azakar.

"You knew?" Keritanima demanded indignantly.

"Of course I knew," he replied easily. "I'm not an idiot, your Highness. If I were, you would never have hired me."

Keritanima stared at him, which made Kalina shuffle a bit and Miranda laugh even more. Then Keritanima sighed lustily. "I always thought I did better than this," she grunted.

"Oh, it's a masterful identity, your Highness," he assured her. "It took me nearly a year to discover the truth. After I realized who you were, I realized that I found working for you to be both profitable and curiously satisfying. You may be the princess, but you made Lizelle a success without any help from your title. That's something to be very proud of."

"Well, I appreciate the complement, Rallix, but now that I know that you know, it just feels...wrong, to pretend to be Lizelle around you anymore."

"You are Lizelle, my Lady. You simply have more than one hat."

Keritanima stared at him a bit more, then she finally laughed. "Well, I guess this will make this much easier," she said. "Lizelle is going on a trip, Rallix. A very sudden and hasty trip."

"I deduced as much from the trunk, my Lady. Where are you going?"

"As far as the world is concerned, Lizelle is going to Suld," she replied. "In reality, she's going to hide at Falcon's Roost."

"A smart move," Rallix commended. "I take it that I should turn around now?"

"Why do that?" Kalina asked curiously.

"So we can switch dresses, Kalina," Keritanima winked.

"What?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet, girl? I thought you were smarter than that."

"You mean I'm going to--"

"Of course, you ninny," Keritanima grinned. "You'll be in danger if you stay in Wikuna, because people will mistake you for me. You're going to a secluded country estate, where you'll be treated like a queen for several months. You'll have all the pretty dresses you could ever wear and a fifty room house staffed with servants that will do anything you want. You just have to stay out of sight until I send a message telling you it's safe to return."

"Oh. Well, in that case, I think I could use a vacation," she smiled.

"I saw five ships in. Is that all we have right now, Rallix?"

"Yes, my Lady."

"Then pick the fastest ship with the best crew and start getting them ready to set sail," Keritanima ordered her agent.

"I'll have it ready before you change dresses," he assured her.

The exchange of dresses was a quick affair, but doing Kalina's hair so she looked more like Lizelle took some time. "You won't have to pretend to be Lizelle, Kalina," Keritanima assured her. "You'll just be dressed up in case anyone sees you leave. Falcon's Crest is only a day's journey north, so you won't really have to worry about pretending to be Lizelle on the ship. I'll have Rallix send instructions that you're to be treated as my guest and have the run of the house."

"Are there men there?"

"Some servants," Keritanima told her. "You'd think that a girl in your profession wouldn't think about men."

"Just because I sell a good time doesn't mean I don't have a good time myself, Keritanima," Kalina said with a naughty grin. "With the right customer, anyway."

"Well, just remember that Lizelle isn't a prostitute," Keritanima snorted. "You'll ruin my reputation."

"I was wondering something, Keritanima."

"What?"

"Why did you try to run away? Why didn't you just become Lizelle instead?"

"Because I'd have eventually been found out, Kalina," Keritanima sighed. "Lizelle gets away with it because people rarely see her. If I were Lizelle all the time, someone would eventually discover the truth. Rallix did, so that means that others would have too." She finished the bun and pinned it into place. "I never thought I'd be Lizelle again. I already had a will made out for her that they'd find when they realized that she'd just vanished, leaving my business to Rallix. At least I managed to get back before people began to wonder what happened to her."

"How did you arrange that? You were gone a long time."

"By doing exactly what you're doing now, Kalina. I'd ride a ship to Falcon's Roost, and it would go on without me while making people think that I was on board. I'd ride a horse back here, and everyone would think that Lizelle Sailmender was out on a business voyage. That particular one was to Valkar. At least a six month journey, possibly as long as a year. I set it up that way in case something did go wrong and I had to come back, Lizelle and her resources would be here in case I needed them."

"Clever."

"I didn't get this far by thinking like celery, Kalina. I planned ahead."

Rallix returned. "The ship will be ready to receive you in a moment, my Lady," he said pointedly to Kalina. "By the way, where did you find her, your Highness? She is so much your twin, I thought you were the same person when I first saw her."

"Just another person, Rallix," Keritanima grinned. "Someone who helps me pretend to be in two places at once. Often when Lizelle was here, Keritanima was at the Palace."

"Very clever, your Highness."

"Thank you," Kalina and Keritanima said in unison, their voices mingling together so perfectly that they were impossible to tell apart.

Rallix laughed. "I'll have men take your trunk, my Lady. You'll be under way by the end of the hour."

Keritanima backed up slightly as sailors filed in and picked up the trunk, giving her and Kalina wild looks, then they carried the trunk out. Keritanima closed the door and regarded Rallix calmly. "I think I can depend on your discretion, Rallix," she smiled. "If people ask, just say that Lizelle and the Princess reached some kind of agreement, and Lizelle set sail quickly after getting here."

"We have known each other a long time, your Highness," Rallix smiled. "I've always looked out for your interests, and your secret will be safe with me. I'll arrange it so Lady Lizelle here is very comfortable while she hides out."

"I appreciate it. Leave no debased amusement untried, Rallix."

"Hey!" Kalina snapped. "I'll choose my own debauchery, thank you very much."

"Just watch out for the masseuse, Lizelle," Keritanima winked. "So much as smile at him, and he'll be trying to drown you in sensual delight."

"I think I can live with that," Kalina grinned wickedly.

"We're running out of time, Highness," Rallix warned.

"Of course, Rallix," she smiled. Rallix. She shouldn't have been all that surprised that he knew her secret. He was a very intelligent, unassuming man that was very good at his job, and part of his job was to be observant. It warmed her heart that he had been loyal to her, even after discovering just who he was working for. He had been a steadfast pillar, just as dependable as Ulfan, nurturing Lizelle's investment into an impressive fortune. She owed him a great deal. She wondered what made him stay with her, knowing who she was and the danger it posed to him, how much he really knew about her. He had to know that the Brat was just another act, like Lizelle. And he had kept that a secret too. Even after it became apparent that Keritanima--and Lizelle-- had run away, he remained at the business, running it for her, not telling anyone that Lizelle was unavailable. He could have taken ownership of the entire company then--she had little doubt he didn't know about her will--but he did not. He had continued on, abiding her possible return, showing a loyalty to her that stirred her soul to consider its depths. Rallix wasn't just loyal to her, he was devoted to her. She wondered what had spurred such a devotion. "I want to thank you again, old friend," she said sincerely. "It's becoming plain to me just how much you do know, and I can't thank you enough for your support through it all."

"I'm not just a loyal Wikuni, Highness, I also happen to be fond of you," he admitted. "You gave me a good chance to make something of my life, and I've done my best to build your business into something you could be proud of, just as proud as your noble house."

"Rallix, I'm ten times more proud of you and the Twenty Seas than I'll ever be over House Eram," she told him honestly. "Lizelle didn't build this company. You did. And I want you to know that I've always known that, and I've always been very thankful you were here."

"It is nothing, Highness," he said with a slight smile. "It was nothing more than duty."

"Be that as it may, we're going to have a very long talk later, Rallix," Keritanima promised him. "Right now, we have to send Lady Lizelle here on her way, and I have to get back to the Palace."

"I'll make sure everyone knows Lizelle left," Rallix smiled.

Keritanima escorted Kalina to the back gate. She gave her friend a quick hug and held onto her shoulders. "Just keep low, girl," she instructed. "Rallix will see to it that you're pampered and doted on while you're there. I'll send word when it's safe."

"Don't send it any time soon," Kalina winked. "You be careful, Keritanima."

"Call me Kerri, girl. All my friends do."

"Kerri," she corrected with a warm smile. "Tell Ulfan I'll be gone. He worries when he doesn't hear from me for a month or so."

"I'll make sure he knows," she promised. "They're waiting for you, girl. Now scoot, and enjoy yourself."

"Oh, I will, I promise that," she grinned. "You be careful, Kerri. It's still dangerous."

"I'll be alright, Lizelle. I have good friends I can count on."

Kalina smiled, and then she hurried towards a ship at which Rallix was pointing. Keritanima looked away, but Miranda kept looking out towards the docks.

"She'll be alright, won't she?" Azakar asked.

"She'll be alot safer than we will," Keritanima chuckled. "Come on, gang. We have to get back and see what kind of mess I just created." Keritanima noticed Miranda's secretive little smile. "And what's got you so happy?"

"Oh, nothing," she said with a deceptive grin, then she walked away, back towards the carriage, humming aimlessly to herself.

©2000, James Galloway. All Rights Reserved.