She laughed. “Very well then, I’ll be brief. I intended Elspeth to be properly trained and eventually consolidate an alliance with Ancar. As you probably guessed, I substituted myself for the original Hulda. Things were progressing quite well—until you intervened.”

This time the glance she shot at Talia was venomous. “Fortunately I was forewarned. I returned to my dear Prince, and when he was of an age to begin taking part in the making of plans, we put together a quite tidy plot.”

She began pacing the room, restlessly, the folds of her vermilion gown collecting loose dirt from the floor, dirt which she ignored.

“What is it,” Talia asked the ceiling above her head, “what is it about would-be tyrants that makes them speak and posture like third-rate gleemen in a badly-written play?”

Hulda pivoted sharply about and glared, her hands twitching a little as if she’d like to settle them about Talia’s neck. Talia braced herself, hoping she’d try. Granted, she was as weak as water, but there were some tricks Alberich had taught her. . . .

“Haven’t you got anything better to do than boast about your petty triumphs to a captive audience?” she taunted.

Hulda’s face darkened with anger; then to Talia’s disappointment she regained control of herself, and slowly straightened and smoothed the folds of her gown while she calmed her temper.

“You’re to be a part of this, you know,” she said abruptly. “Ancar wanted both of you alive, but you alone will do. We’ll all ride together to the Border and wait for your Queen there. She’ll see you with us, and be reassured. Then—”

“You don’t seriously think you’ll get me to cooperate, do you?”

“You won’t have a choice. Just as my Prince’s servant can keep you from sending your little messages, so I can take control of your own body from you—particularly since you’re in rather poor condition at the moment.”

“You can try.”

“Oh, no, little Herald. I can bring in more help than you could ever hope to hold against. I will succeed.”

She laughed, and swept out the door, then, the witchlight following.

As Talia had hoped, on the tenth day of her captivity, the door to her cell opened, and Prince Ancar and his magician stood before her. And with him was Hulda.

She was in another of the periods of clear-headedness between bouts of delirium. She debated facing them standing, but decided that she didn’t have the strength. She simply stared at them with undisguised contempt.

“My messengers have sent signals telling me that the Queen of Valdemar has turned back at the Border,” Ancar said, gazing at her with basilisk-eyes. “And now they say she gathers an army to her side. Somehow you warned her, Herald. How?”