There was no proof that he was dead. Not even a rumor, Bragi claimed. But… if Mocker were alive, he would have come home long ago.

The door to her room creaked open. Her son stood there, looking at her, a confused look on his face. At twelve he already showed a lot of the man that would be.

There was little of his father in him. Mocker was short and fat and brown. Ethrian would stand a hand taller, and would have the broad shoulders and hard muscles of the masculine side of his mother’s line.

A rush of sentimentality hit Nepanthe. She wanted to wrap him in her arms, and keep him there forever, safe from the wrath of the world. “Ethrian? What is it?”

In a puzzled tone, the boy said, “There’s a man downstairs. He says he has a message from Father.”

Something with violent claws grabbed her heart. She babbled questions.

“I don’t know, Mother. He just said to tell you Father sent him with a message.”

“Where is he?”

“Down on the porch.”

“Get him inside. Into the library. Don’t let anybody see him.” Intuition told her to be circumspect. Mocker wouldn’t have sent a messenger had there been no need for caution. “I’ll be right down.”

She whirled to her dressing table, mind aroil, telling herself to stay calm. She failed utterly to take her own advice.

The messenger was a strange one, a hard, dark, silent man with a big white scar across one cheek. He radiated a chill which made Nepanthe shudder. She ignored the reaction. All Mocker’s friends were a little bizarre.

Once the man had identified her to his own satisfaction, he said in difficult Wesson, “I am sent at the command of your husband, Lady, to bring a message important. First, two tokens of faith, that I may be known as friend and not a liar thought. He says you will know the true message they carry.” He handed her a ring of plain gold and a small dagger with a tiny silver three-armed swastika inlaid in its hilt.

Nepanthe collapsed into a chair, one item in each hand. Yes. She understood. The messenger had to be genuine. Who but Mocker would know how much these meant? The ring she had given him in token of love soon after their wedding. There was a love charm graven in invisible characters round the inner face of the band. The dagger had been a tenth anniversary gift. It had belonged to her father, and to his father before him, a token of the power of a once mighty family. Someday it would belong to Ethrian. Yes, only Mocker would guarantee a message by sending those. “I accept you as the real thing. Go ahead. What’s the message?”

Ethrian demanded, “Where is my father?”

“Be quiet, Ethrian. Go stand outside the door. Warn us if anyone comes.” The messenger had chosen the perfect day to appear. Almost everyone was out of the house.