As she paused at a comer of the wall, she saw a long line of Royal Guards riding two abreast, returning from what Hammad and her father had called their “game-playing." They looked splendid in their dazzling white uniforms with her family’s sunburst crest emblazoned on their chests, and their perfectly groomed horses prancing in unison.
These were the elite troops, but even she, a mere woman, could see that this was not an army, and these men were not warriors.
She watched until they vanished from view as they entered the winding streets of the city, en route to the garrison behind her. Then she lifted her head again and stared into the glowing red sky to the west.
The Kassid. She’d been avoiding thinking about them, and her stomach began to chum with fear as she forced herself to do so now. She knew that she would have refused her father’s command if it weren’t for the fact that her fear of war outweighed her fear of the mythical Kassid—though not by much.
How many of those old stories were true and how much was mere legend? No one seemed to know— not even her father, who had actually met them.
The Kassid had once lived in this land, together with the Ertrians. They were said to be a very ancient race who believed themselves to be direct descendants of the Old Gods to whom the present- day Ertrians paid little more than lip service.
They had kept to themselves and never married outside their own kind, unlike the Ertrians and Baleks, who had intermarried for centuries. They'd had their own enclaves within the city and in the surrounding countryside as well. In the incessant wars of those long-ago times, the Kassid had supplied the fiercest warriors. It was from her brother Arman, who had been far more interested in those ancient wars than she had, that she’d heard the many tales of Kassid warriors.
"They weren’t human, Jocey," he'd told her once. "They could fight with inhuman skill—and they used magic as well."
She’d merely listened, a little girl happy to be taken into her older brother’s life on any terms. His stories of the Kassid had sounded no different from the fabulous tales spun by her old nurses. She’d accepted them just as she’d accepted the tales of little people who lived in hollow trees and mighty serpents that lived beneath the seas. They were endlessly fascinating and wonderfully scary.
But what had once sent delicious shivers along her spine now filled her with a very adult dread. The Kassid were sorcerers who called upon the powers of their ancient gods any time they chose. And of all those powers, none was more terrifying to her then and now than their ability to turn themselves into wolves, the most fearsome of all creatures.
She remembered now a drawing from an old storybook—ancient and tattered even in her childhood—of a half-man, half-wolf creature baring its terrible fangs. Wolves! And it was wolves that had killed her brother and his friends.
And now she was to go to meet with these Kassid, in the Dark Mountains far to the west that were supposed to be their ancestral home. She’d never even seen those mountains, which lay beyond Balek, although she'd heard tales of them from her Balek nurse. They were supposed to be so high that they tore through the very fabric of the heavens, and the peaks were said to be forever covered with snow and often crowned with clouds.
No one knew why the Kassid had left Ertria, but long ago they’d simply vanished, leaving behind them the empire their warriors had helped to establish. And as the years had passed, they’d slowly retreated into the shadows of legend, becoming the stuff of stories told 'round the hearth on cold winter nights.
After her meeting with her father, Jocelyn had summoned one of the Balek representatives to the court and asked him about the Kassid, hoping rather foolishly that he’d say they didn’t exist. But instead, he'd confirmed her father’s story: they were indeed real.
He himself had never met them, but he told her that the few Baleks who lived in the foothills of the Dark Mountains occasionally encountered them.
She’d asked him about all the old stories. Were they truly sorcerers? Could they change themselves into wolves? The man had shrugged. No one really knew. They kept to themselves and no one ventured into their lands. There were stories, of course.
She told him that she was going to meet with them and he nodded gravely. He’d heard that the Menoans and the Turveans had joined forces to make war upon the empire. The efficiency of the palace grapevine never ceased to amaze her.
He told her that he knew of a man who would make an excellent guide for them as they journeyed into the Dark Mountains. The man had actually met Kassid several times. At her request, he gave the man’s name to Hammad, who would see to it that the man was found and was waiting for them when they reached the garrison at Balek.
She asked if he thought the Kassid would join them against their enemies. He had shrugged again. Who knew? If they did, it would surely be because they felt themselves threatened by the possibility of having Menoans and Turveans on their borders.
Could they be bought? she inquired. Would offers of gold induce them to fight?
He had shaken his gray head. "I doubt that, milady. My people have always believed that they have even more gold and silver and precious jewels in their mountains than there are in all of Balek and Ertria combined.”
So it all depended upon her convincing them that it was in their best interest to keep the empire from being overrun.
Jocelyn had by now reached the end of the wall, where it joined the wall of the garrison. Below her in the fading light, she saw that the Royal Guard was entering the courtyard. Seeing her, their captain brought the column to a halt and drew his sword, then held it across his breast in a salute. She nodded in acknowledgment, then sighed softly. Game-players. Not a warrior among them. How very vulnerable they had become during this long peace.
She had just reversed her direction to return to the palace when she spotted a tall figure approaching along the wall. Even at this distance, she knew who it had to be. No one else would have dared to disturb her solitary walks up here.
Eryk believed himself to be courting her. She didn’t disabuse him of that belief, since it suited her purposes to continue the sham. She’d often thought that it might be a dual conspiracy—that he too knew it was a sham, but chose to continue it for reasons of his own.
Jocelyn had no intention of marrying Eryk or any other man. When she was gone, the throne could pass to one of her cousins.
Eryk was a nobleman whose vast wealth came from his family’s shipping business and fertile farmlands to the east of the city. He was handsome and bright and considered to be the best catch in all Ertria by the many women who pursued him. He had also been one of her brother's closest friends.
On the whole, she considered him to be far more acceptable than any of the other nobles. She knew that he too schemed and cheated on his taxes, but she suspected that it was to a far lesser extent than most of the others. And he treated those who worked for him far better than most.
Sooner or later, his need to produce an heir would force him to turn his attentions elsewhere, but she hoped and believed that she would be able to retain his friendship. Certainly, he could be a powerful ally when she ascended the throne and could make some changes.
"You leave tomorrow for the Dark Mountains,” he said after greeting her.
"For someone who spends so little time at court, you don’t lack for information, Eryk,” she teased him, then nodded gravely.
"It seems I have no choice.”
"It would be wise in any event for you to visit Balek,” he pointed out. "It’s been two years since your father was there.”
"I know. I kept intending to go, but with him so sick . . She trailed off with a sigh, then frowned at him.
"Do you think they intend to make war upon us, Eryk?” She knew he had his own agents in both countries.
"Yes. My agents sent back the same news as Hammad’s spies. I’m sure they’ll attack in the spring. Some of my best farmland lies close to the eastern border, and I’m already worried about the spring planting."
"And did
you know that the Kassid actually exist?" she asked, wondering if she were the only one who’d believed them to be mere legends.
He nodded. "My brother was with your father when they brought back the bodies of Arman and the others. He told me about them."
“I thought they were nothing more than old stories,” she admitted. "And now I wonder how much of those stories is true.”
“Let us hope that the tales of their exploits in battle are true. We will need them."
"Or the threat of them,” she said. "My father and Hammad think that such a threat could make Arrat change his mind about making war.”
"Arrat wants the empire,” Eryk stated succinctly. “When he couldn’t get it through you, he decided to take it by force. For the likes of him, a mere threat may not be enough—especially if he too believes the Kassid are mere legend.”
She hadn’t thought about that, but she knew Eryk was right. She would have to persuade this man Daken to come back here—or send some troops.
They left the wall and walked down the steps into the great courtyard, then passed through the public rooms of the palace. She was lost in thought as she continued on toward her rooms and stopped only when he hesitated.
“Am I invited to join you for dinner?”
She nodded absently. Eryk could be trusted to behave himself. Only once had he ever attempted to force himself upon her, and he’d apologized profusely afterwards for that drunken mistake.
They dined in her private salon, where the wall sconces had been lit, casting what might have been a romantic glow over them both. But romance— never high on her list to begin with—was very far from her mind this night.
And probably from his as well, she thought as she noticed that he too seemed lost in his thoughts. War would wreak havoc upon his businesses. Shipping would be disrupted and it was quite likely that if war did come, the initial battles would be fought on his lands.
She thought about the consequences of war and lost her appetite. So very much depended upon her convincing the Kassid—or rather, their leader, Da- ken, to help them.
“You’re afraid to go to the Dark Mountains,” Eryk said after a long silence.
She nodded. Few people ever saw her fears, but Eryk was one of them. His lifelong friendship with her brother gave him a special place in her life as well. He’d missed that fatal hunting trip only because he’d injured his leg in a fall from his horse. They’d grieved together over the loss of brother and friend.
"I don’t blame you,” he said, surprising her. "I know your father believes that the Kassid had nothing to do with the deaths of Arman and the others, but I’ve never been completely convinced myself."
“Do you have any reason to think they might have killed him?” she asked as yet another reason to fear this trip emerged.
“No,” he admitted. "I know nothing more than the old stories about them. I suppose it’s just that I needed to be able to blame someone."
"But they lived among us once,” she pointed out.
“I know, but that was long ago—and they kept to themselves even then. So who knows if they can really be trusted? It might have suited their purpose to fight on our side then."
"Still, we have no choice, Eryk. We need them.”
He nodded. "We must use them—but not trust them.”
"That sounds rather difficult, if we expect them to save the empire for us.”
"That, my dear Jocelyn, is a problem for you and Hammad to deal with—and your father, of course. All I ask is that my ships can come and go in peace and that my fields and storehouses don’t go up in flames."
"Eryk, if there is war, do you think that my being a woman will be a problem?”
He chuckled. "So you’ve thought about that? Well, if it is, you could always marry me." He paused, then went on more seriously.
"It would be better if your father could live to see this through, but the people love you, Jocelyn. And there’s the history of four hundred years of your family’s unbroken rule over Ertria. Anyway, I think that’s the least of your problems. We haven’t even got an army worthy of the name."
"But we have Hammad—and a few others."
"Yes, the gods be thanked for that. But not even Hammad can turn a bunch of wine-swilling dandies into officers, and peasants into soldiers in so
little time. The Menoans and Turveans don't have that problem. They’ve been fighting each other for years."
They finished their dinner and strolled for a time in her private garden. Eryk took her hand, an intimacy she was willing to permit him.
"How many men will accompany you?"
"Only twenty. Hammad thinks that to send more could be viewed as a threat by the Kassid.”
"That makes sense—but it's not much protection."
“If the old stories are true, our entire army could afford me no greater protection,” she said bleakly.
He stopped, then took her other hand as well. "I won’t rest easily until you’re safely back in the palace again.”
She looked up at him. At times like this, she wished that she could love him. She liked him and was comfortable with him—but something was missing.
Then she was glad that whatever it was was missing. Love was a luxury she could no longer afford. Love was for the ladies of the court who had nothing better to do with their lives than to please their husbands and raise their children. She had an empire to rule—and a war to prevent.
She thanked him for his concern, and he leaned forward slowly to brush his lips lightly against her cheek. It felt pleasant, comforting. She knew he truly did care for her, in his way.
When he had gone, Jocelyn stood there amidst the fragrant splendor of her garden, thinking about mountains she’d never seen and a race of sorcerers she hadn’t known truly existed—and a mission that must succeed.
* * *
The party rode out the next morning shortly after dawn. Jocelyn had awakened in the pre-dawn darkness to a feeling of deep dread so powerful that she lay there for many minutes, paralyzed by her fears.
Her testing had begun. All the work she'd done so far, all the exercise of statecraft of which she was so proud, seemed to count for nothing. The only thing that mattered now was the success of this mission.
Strangely enough, though, she was able to set aside her fears for her own safety, thinking instead about the empire and her people. She had no doubts that those fears would return when they reached the Dark Mountains, but for now, she concentrated on finding a way to prevent war.
Her father had insisted upon being awakened to see her off, despite Jocelyn’s attempts to persuade him that they should say their good-byes the evening before.
She'd gone to his bedchamber to find him awake but in obvious pain. The physicians hovered nearby, ready to give him the potions that would ease the pain, but send him into a dull slumber. He sent them from the chamber when she arrived.
“Trust Daken," he told her. “Perhaps the old stories are true and the Kassid are powerful sorcerers—but we need their magic. And I know that Daken is a good man."
But how can you know that? she’d asked silently—and was still asking it an hour later as they
left the city behind and rode through miles of farmland that fed its ever-growing population. For all she knew, this Daken might well have cast some sort of spell on her father.
Saying good-bye to her father had been the most difficult thing Jocelyn had yet had to do. She knew his condition was worsening, although the physicians had assured her he would live for many months yet. She wanted to believe them, but could not quite rid herself of the thought that her father might well have ordered them to tell her that.
At least twelve days of hard riding lay ahead of them before they would reach the Dark Mountains. During the first part of the journey, they would be able to rest comfortably at night, staying at inns along the Western Road. But once they entered Balek, they would be leaving that well-traveled thoroughfare for narrow, winding roads through sparsely populated cou
ntry, where they would be forced to spend their nights in the open.
They might have chosen a more circuitous route that would have allowed her to stay at the estates of the Balek nobility, but speed was essential. Winter would soon arrive in the hills of Balek and in the Dark Mountains.
Jocelyn was traveling without her ladies and even without maids—a decision that had certainly raised some eyebrows at court. But there wasn’t one among them who could ride comfortably astride a horse as she could, and riding side-saddle would have slowed them down.
Her brother Arman had taught her to ride like a man years ago, though of course she never did so in public. Had her mother been alive at the time, she would certainly have prohibited such unseemly behavior, but her father had found it amusing, and she herself loved the freedom and the daring of wearing men’s trousers.
Fortunately, the morning was cool enough to justify her wearing a long cloak that disguised her very unladylike attire. What her Royal Guardsmen would think when they saw their future empress in pants she couldn’t begin to guess—but neither did she care. This journey would also give her an opportunity to show them that she wasn't some delicate, perfumed lady of the court, but a woman capable of doing what must be done.
She drew the cloak more tightly about her as they rode directly into the chill wind blowing across the plains. It seemed colder than was usual for this time of year, and she remarked on that to the captain who rode beside her.
“Yes, milady, I was thinking the same thing. It does not bode well for a lingering summer." He paused. "And winter comes even earlier in the Dark Mountains."
“Have you ever been there, captain?"
"Yes, milady. I was stationed for two years at the garrison in Balek. But of course we never went beyond the foothills."
"And did you see any Kassid?”
“No, milady. We were strictly forbidden to encroach upon their territory—even in pursuit of game. Some of the Baleks go there, though.”
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