“We will have allies in the city. Many of the legions will be with us. Taragorm is on our side and he is hereditary commander of several thousand warriors since

his cousin’s death. The Order of the Ferret is a small one, to be sure, but it has many legions in Londra, while other legions are in Europe, defending our possessions. All the nobles likely to remain loyal to Huon are abroad at this moment. It is a perfect time to strike. Baron Kalan is also with ushe can aid us with new weapons and his Serpents to operate them. If we achieve a swift victoryor at least make quick gainsthen it is likely that many others will join us, for few will discover love for King Huon once Flana is on the throne.”

“I feel a loyalty for King Huon …” admitted a Wolf captain. “It is bred into us.”

“And so is a loyalty to the spirit of Aral Vilsnto all that Granbretan stands for. Is that not a loyalty even more deeply bred into us?”

The captain deliberated for a moment before nodding. “Ayeyou are right. With a new ruler of the blood royal on the throne, then perhaps our whole greatness will come to us.”

“Oh, it will, it will!” promised Meliadus fiercely, his black eyes gleaming from his snarling helm.

Chapter Six

The Return to Castle Brass

IN THE GREAT hall of Castle Brass Yisselda, Count Brass’s daughter, wept and wept.

She wept for joy, hardly able to believe that the man before her was her husband whom she loved with such passion, hardly daring to touch him lest he prove a phantom. Hawkmoon laughed and strode forward, putting his arms around her and kissing at her tears. Then she, too, began to laugh, her face becoming radiant.

“Oh, Dorian! Dorian! We feared you killed in Granbretan!”

Hawkmoon grinned. “Considering everything, Granbretan was the safest place we saw in our travels! Is that not so, D’Averc?”

D’Averc coughed into his kerchief. “Ayeand maybe the healthiest, too.”

The thin and kindly-faced Bowgentle shook his head in mild astonishment. “But how did you return from Amarekh in that dimension to the Kamarg in this?”

Hawkmoon shrugged his shoulders. “Ask me not, Sir Bowgentle. The Great Good Ones brought us here, that is all I know. The journey was swift, taking but a few minutes.”

“The Great Good Ones! Never heard of ‘em!” Count Brass spoke gruffly, stroking his red moustachios and try

ing to hide the tears in his eyes. “Spirits of some sort, eh?”

“Aye of some sort, father.” Hawkmoon stretched out his hand to his father-in-law. “You are looking well, Count Brass. Your hair’s as red as ever.”

“That’s not a sign of youth,” Count Brass complained. “That’s rust! I’m rotting here while you enjoy yourself chasing about the world.”