Shih-ka’i walked toward the hummock where the woman was waking the Deliverer. He kept his stride purposeful. He would not betray his fear to these westerners.

The Deliverer rose, brushed his hair back, stared, went down. The woman knelt over him. He rose again, exuding arrogance. He gestured. A panther came round the hummock and curled at his feet. A bear appeared, seated itself at his right hand. A huge forest buffalo, its eyes wild, stationed itself to the woman’s left.

Shih-ka’i told Mist, “Keep your eye on the woman.” Then, “What’s wrong with him?”

“He knows these people. He’s imagining what they think of him.”

“I see.” He halted five steps from the Deliverer. A short leap for the panther, he reflected. He glared. This whining child had destroyed two armies?

Mist stopped when he did. Ragnarson and Varthlokkur followed suit. The woman with the infant did not. “Ethrian?” she said in her own tongue. “Ethrian? Look. This’s your sister. Her name is Smyrena.”

Torment filled the boy’s eyes. He started blubbering. “Mama. I thought they killed you. I thought they killed you. They told me….”

Nepanthe shifted Smyrena to her left arm. Her right she slipped round the boy, pulling him against her shoulder. “It’s all right. It’s all right, Ethrian. It’s over now. It’s all right.”

The air was still. The world was silent but for the boy’s weeping. And yet, the hair and clothing of the woman in white stirred as if blown by a rising wind. Shih-ka’i glanced at Mist. “Mistress?”

“Not to worry. She’s happy for him.” Silent communication passed between the women. Mist nodded.

Something drifted down from the sky. It hovered behind the hummock. Shih-ka’i looked only once. “The Unborn,” he murmured. He had heard of the thing. Its presence was more offensive than he had believed possible.

The woods buffalo snorted, loped away. The bear followed, breaking into a wild shamble. The panther rose elegantly, licked a paw, strolled toward the wilds. Nepanthe started walking her son toward the city.

Shih-ka’i glanced at Mist again. “It’s over, Lord Ssu-ma. It’s really over. Go ahead.”

Mother and son passed him. He turned. The wizard and King kept pace as he followed. He glanced back, saw Mist and the woman trailing. The woman floated more than walked.

His tension drained away. He felt limp. Almost disappointed. He hadn’t realized how tense he was….

It began suddenly. He did not know anything was wrong till his mother was hurled away, and he went rigid. A dark nimbus surrounded him.

The air crackled. Shih-ka’i had felt the same thing just before the disaster on the Tusghus. “Mistress! Princess!”

Varthlokkur flung himself forward, caught his woman before she fell. Ragnarson had sword in hand with almost magical quickness. He crouched, growling in his harsh western tongue.

Mist shrieked, “Ethrian! Stop!” Shih-ka’i heard echoes of the other woman in her voice.

He tackled the youth. The boy remained rigid. Shih-ka’i clamped his fingers round a stiff throat.