She turned back to look down on Lord Raj Ahten, grinning and waving to his new subjects. His dappled gray stallion strode proudly through the cobbled streets, and the peasants parted for him easily, their cheers becoming steadily more deafening. He’d already made it into the second tier of the city, past the Market Gate. He spurred his way up through the streets, and for a moment was hidden from Iome’s view.

Suddenly Chemoise stood at Iome’s elbow. Iome swallowed hard, wondering what Raj Ahten would do to her. Would she be put to death? Be tortured? Disgraced?

Or would he leave her some position, let her father reign as a regent? It seemed possible.

One could only hope.

Down below, Raj Ahten suddenly rounded a corner and was now only two hundred yards away.

She could see his face beneath the sweeping white wings of his helm—the clear skin, glossy black hair, the impassive dark eyes. Handsome, handsome. As perfectly formed as if he were sculpted by love or goodness.

He looked up at Iome. Because she was beautiful as only a princess of the Runelords could be, Iome was growing accustomed to the occasional rapacious stares of men. She knew how sorely her appearance could arouse a man.

Yet of all the predatory gazes she’d ever been granted, nothing compared to what she saw laid bare in Raj Ahten’s eyes.

9

THE WIZARD’S GARDEN

Gaborn nearly flew down the stairs of the Dedicates’ Tower, making his way through the crowded courtyard, past the smelly idiots, the cripples.

Captain Ault was at his side, and he said, “Young sir, please go into the Dedicates’ kitchens, and wait until I send someone for you. The sun will be down in moments. We can find a way to get you over a wall after nightfall.”

Gaborn nodded. “Thank you, Sir Ault.”

He’d known for hours that he’d have to make his escape from Castle Sylvarresta, but hadn’t believed it would happen so soon. He’d imagined that the castle’s defenders would have put up a great battle. The castle walls were certainly thick enough, high enough to hold Raj Ahten’s army at bay.

He’d wanted some sleep. He’d had almost none over the past three days. In truth, he needed almost no sleep. As an infant, he’d been given three endowments of stamina, and fortunately two of those who’d granted the endowments still lived. So, in the way of those who had great stamina, Gaborn was able to get his rest on horseback, to let his mind rest, as he moved about as if through a waking dream. Still, he sometimes wanted a nap.

Food was another matter. Even a Runelord with great stamina needed food. Right now Gaborn’s stomach was cramping. Yet he had almost no time to eat.