^ftOPOSAL for ttie.'DISPOSITION of Cq^Quell&S OUT£A/JD T&SJy-nxR-Y




chaptep 1

h

e was alone in darkness. Around him were the
sounds of rustling and sighing. Not darkness, he real-
ized; utter blackness. No nightmoon; not even a dusting
of stars. He stood stock still; did not dare to move as
the pricklings of alarm coursed up his spine. He reached
out with his senses. The sounds seemed to come from
everywhere at once, an omnipresent and suggestive sib-
ilance. There was a strong odor of loam and growing
things, but nothing more. Something brushed against
his face and he shied violently, would have cried out,
but no sound came. I'm dreaming, he thought. This is
nothing but a dream. It didn't help. He was afraid.

He forced himself to reach out. His hand encountered
stalks, or what he surmised were stalks. Moving up, he
felt leaves and then something fuzzy. It was well above
his head and he was a shade over eight feet tall. He
took a deep breath; only a dream. It reminded him of
the jungle area on the Island at the Center. Could the
Guardian have pulled him back, all these years later, to
punish him for his destruction of the Outlanders? The
Guardian was capable of it, but he knew, instinctively,
that he had not. With that came the realization of what
this place must be. He was out on the Alien Plain. With
the knowledge came light. Not centered, like a dawn,
or spilling down, like the sudden unveiling of the night-
moon, but a seeping in from all quarters.

He was mewed up in grasses, tall and seemingly im-

2 + JOHN LEE

penetrable. Good hunting country for wild warcats, he
thought, and shivered. There was menace in the air, its
source, in part, the feeling of being closed in. That, at
ieast, he could do something about. He nailed around
him, breaking the thick stalks, seeing the tops sag
abruptly. The amorphous light grew stronger. He started
forward, striking with his arms as if they were reversed
sickles. He noticed that he was wearing his habitual blue
robe. Could be worse, he thought with a flash of grim
humor; I've been naked in some dreams.

He ploughed ahead, arms swinging unnaturally slowly
and his sandals sticking to the ground. He glanced over
his shoulder and the vague feeling of dread became con-
centrated in that direction. Worse, the grasses be had
swept aside and trampled down had sprung up again.
He pushed on, heart thumping painfully, breath whis-
tling in and out. Logic dictated that he stop and take
stock of the situation, but logic had no place in this
dream. Fear drove him and the slug's pace, which was
the best that he could do, added to the dread.

It went on forever and yet it was over in moments.
He stood at the base of a mountain range that sloped
gently at first and then soared up. He knew it instantly
even though he had only seen it once before and then
from above. This was the range that formed the north-
ern border of the Alien Plain. Beyond it was a sea or
an ocean. His glimpse of the coastline had been brief
and he had been very tired.

The fear that had driven him was ebbing and he gazed
at the slopes with something akin to relief. The spur of
fear might be gone, but he was wary still. He turned
slowly and looked at the way he had come. A towering
wall of green crowded behind him. Upward then. As he
turned back and glanced up, a building flickered into
view and disappeared. That couldn't be. No man had
ever set foot in these mountains. He took a deep breath

THE UNICORN PEACE + 3

and peered upslope. The building, large, turreted and
shining, appeared and then vanished.

He stood, waiting for it to reappear, but nothing hap-
pened. He braced his shoulders. No sense waiting here
while the gods knew what crept up behind him. He set
off again. The slope was gentle at first, but soon became
steeper. Massive boulders blocked his path, forcing him
to detour. He stopped from time to time to look for the
building. There was a glow, he was certain of that, and
once he thought he saw a tower with a conical top. To
reach it became a compulsion, but, hard as he climbed,
he seemed to be getting no closer. The path turned
treacherous with loose scree denying him puchase. He
clung to the rocks, hauling himself up, desperate to
reach the security of the insubstantial refuge. Then he
lost his footing altogether and tumbled back, stomach
dropping in sudden terror.

Jarred Courtak woke with a start. His mouth was dry
and his hands were clenched. His heart was pounding.
He lay there for a while calming himself. The dream
was still vivid in his mind and he tried to make sense
of it. There were those, usually men or women in whom
the Talent was weak, who made a living from the inter-
pretation of dreams, but he had never been a believer.
It was true that the Archmage had once seen the future,
but that had been as a result of Magic, properly ap-
plied. He shrugged mentally and rolled out of bed. It
would soon be time for the ritual of Making the Day.

He breakfasted in the Outpost's Hall with the rest of
the Magicians and then returned to his rooms to pre-
pare for the morning's meeting of the Commission for
the Outland. The Commission, together with the re-
search he had been doing for a history of Strand, had
dominated his life for years now. He had been on the
Commission since its founding thirteen years ago. Its
deliberations had meandered on ever since. There had

4 + JOHN LEE

been no sense of urgency in the early days. Jarrod had
been alone in his conviction that the soil was safe, free
of whatever had caused mutations in the past, but the
barren expanse had greened since then and become a
vast, flat savanna. Pressure for colonization was grow-
ing.

He wondered if the past night's dream had any con-
nection with the coming meeting. A vote on partition
was a possibility. A draft of the proposal had been cir-
culated. There was nothing in it for the Discipline. He
had fought hard for territory in the beginning and had
been told, politely but firmly, that the Discipline was
not a sovereign state and thus had no role to play in
matters territorial. He had persisted and a move had
been made to oust him. He had appealed to the Arch-
mage.

He smiled at the memory of what had come next.
Archmage Ragnor had descended on Stronta like the
specter of death, breathing anathema. In a speech be-
fore the Royal Council of Paladine, the Commissioners
and the diplomatic corps, he had declared that the en-
tire Outland belonged to the Discipline by right of con-
quest. The resulting furor dominated conversation in
the capitals of Strand for many sennights. The printed
broadsheets that had sprung up since the war had had
a field day. Thereafter Jarrod had not pressed the Dis-
cipline's claim, but no one had challenged his right to
sit on the Commission.

In the intervening years he had learned that there was
little logic where matters of national interest were con-
cerned and that his colleagues, intelligent, secure in their
positions, often humorous in private, became rigid and
inflexible when they got to the conference table. Only
Qtorin of Lissen, who represented Queen Arabella of
Arundel (Queen now because she had married), re-
tained his skeptical sense of humor. Everyone paid lip

THE UNICORN PEACE + 5

service to the idea of a new beginning, but they clung
fiercely to the old order.

At one stage, Jarrod had suggested that the Outland
be developed without boundaries, under international
control, an idea he still felt offered the best solution. It
had caused another uproar. The growing body of schol-
ars and men of letters had endorsed it enthusiastically,
but even the Isphardis, who of all people should have
been international in outlook, had rejected the notion.
Borr Sarad, the grizzled former Thane of Talisman, had
been the only sympathetic ear.
Now, fifteen years after the war had ended, matters
were coming to a head and none of the old problems
had been solved. There was no agreed-upon formula for
the apportionment of land. Should it be based on the
size of the individual countries? Their contribution to
the war effort? How then to deal with Songuard, which
had done nothing during the war, or Isphardel, which
had never committed a single man but had provided a
vast amount of money? What of Talisman, smallest of
all the nations, whose cloudsteed wings and warcat bat-
talions had fought so valiantly and suffered such losses?

There had been no formal agreement on any of these
points, but Phalastra of Estragoth, the elderly Umbrian
Elector who was President of the Commission, was
pushing for a conclusion, motivated, in Jarrod' opinion,
more by the growing civil unrest in the Empire that by
conviction. For himself, he could not for the life of him
see how they were to come to an equitable decision. He
sighed. His own idea was still the only just solution,
but, after all these years of argument, he could hold out
no real hope for it,

He changed out of his blue robe and donned lay at-
tire. With his height he could not pass for anything but
a Magician, but he had found that it was more politic
not to remind people of his status. He went down to

6 + JOHN LEE

the stables where his horse was saddled and waiting and
took the long route to Stronta's western gate. He mar-
veled anew as he rode at the difference the years had
made.

The clean lines of the star fort were obscured by the
wooden houses and shops that had sprung up outside
the walls. The capital was almost surrounded now by a
tangle of narrow streets replete with inns and bawdy
houses. Only the well-founded fear of the Great Maze
kept the area around Northgate clear. It now took far
longer to get into the city than it had in the old days.
With all the new mouths to feed, the roads were clogged
with wagons and carts bringing produce to market. So
much had changed since the war, he reflected as he
kicked his mount into a trot. On this day, of all days,
it would not do to be late for the meeting.

chaipreR 2

C

^^/onneian Malum, Lord Quern, sharpened his quills
slowly and methodically. Taking notes at these sessions
was rough. He had long since become accustomed to
the various accents, but the Commission members
talked fast when they were arguing, which was most of
the time; they interrupted one another constantly. All
the positions were so well known by now that members
seldom got a chance to finish their set pieces. Once the
session got going, there would be no time to sharpen a
nib.

He sat at the scribes' table, his chair set somewhat
apart from the others. He was an official member of the
Umbrian delegation, but his patron, the Elector of Es-
tragoth, wanted his own account of the proceedings,
and it was Malum's job to provide it. He'd been doing
it since he first came to Stronta at the age of eighteen.
The job itself was fascinating for alt it rigors. The Elec-
tor divided his time between Angorn and Stronta and
was a key personage in both capitals. As the Elector's
private secretary, Malum followed his master every-
where, and, because of his access to Phalastra, he was
often courted by powerful men. While the pay was
rather meager, he would never have been able to live at
Court on the revenues from his estate, let alone travel
to foreign lands.

Estragoth himself was a remarkable old bird. He had
been well advanced in years when Malum was first taken

8 t JOHN LEE

into his household, and he must be pushing eighty now.
That in itself was no mean feat, but the remarkable
thing was that the old boy was still active. He no longer
hunted and he was somewhat hard of hearing, but his
mind was still sharp. He walked with the aid of a stout
cane on those days when the gout or the rheumatism
was bad, but Malum had seen him belabor a would-be
Causeway bandit with it and drive the fellow off.

He put away his knife and lined the quills up in a
row. He moved the inkwell closer to him. The water
clock was approaching the tenth hour and the Com-
missioners would be coming in soon. They were an in-
teresting lot, all except the Chamberlain who nominally
represented Paladine. He was a fussy little man preoc-
cupied with protocol and details, but everyone knew
that the real decisions were taken by the Queen or her
Arundelian paramour. There was noise from the ante-
room and he looked up as the three regular scribes came
in. Polite greetings were exchanged.

Borr Sarad, the former Thane of Talisman, was the
first of the Commissioners to arrive. He was a compact
man with an outdoor face and iron grey hair. He was
always on time, usually early, and Malum could predict
the opening words. Sure enough:

"Beat me to it again, eh Quern? One of these days
. . . one of these days."

Malum stood and ducked his head. "May the best of
the day be before us. Thane," he said, and smiled. Borr
Sarad had been voted out of office by his people in the
first election after the war, but everyone still used the
old title.
"Selah to that, young man," Sarad replied as he ad-
vanced down the room to the desk- "Greetings, gentle-
men," he said to the scribes as he passed them. "Well,
what do you think will happen today?" he asked.
"Think we'll be able to get this thing wrapped up? I

THE UNICORN PEACE + 9

certainly hope so. I've no wish to spend the summer
here. It's too damned hot."

"At least it's dry heat here. You should try summer
in the south, where I come from."

"I thank you, but no. I'll take my mountains any time
of year. Seriously though, what's your opinion of how
things stand?"

"Truth?" Malum asked.

Sarad grinned. "Of course not. Educated guess."

"Well then, the idea of the Outland as an interna-
tional territory without boundaries doesn't stand a
chance, no matter what kind of authority or combina-
tion of authorities govern it. The only thing that has
kept it alive this long is the Mage's reputation."

"I have to agree," Sarad admitted. "If it had come
to a vote any time in the first five years, it might have
stood a chance, but not now." The Thane paused and
looked at Malum speculatively.

"D'you have an opinion, one that you're prepared to
divulge, about the draft proposal?"

"The partition would seem to address most of the
problems," Malum said Judiciously. "The Songeans are
provided for, the Isphardis get an equitable share and,
with all due respect, Talisman would do very well out
of the settlement."

Sarad looked Malum squarely in the eyes for a long
beat. A slow smile that threw every last wrinkle into
relief crept up. "Stop being so damned diplomatic," he
said. "You're an intelligent young man, you've been in
on all the discussions and, unless I miss my guess, you
can think for yourself. You must have some personal
thoughts about the division. In fact I'll warrant you saw
the finished map before I did."

Malum returned the smile. Smiling easily and con-
vincingly was one of his talents. "You're right about
that," he said. "The penmanship on the map is mine.

10 + JOHN LEE

Personally, I don't think the Isphardis will be en-
chanted, but, given their geographical location, I don't
think anything we did would be ideal for them."
"That's as may be. You mean to tell me that you
can't see any other problems?"

The Umbrian shrugged. "Well, it's true that the por-
tion of the Outland allotted to Talisman might be con-
sidered to infringe on Arundel's share, but then again,
they can expand westward across the Unknown Lands
and nobody knows how far that stretches."

"The same could be said of Umbria," Sarad com-
mented dryly, "but I see that she is apportioned the full
width of her present frontier. Do you feel that that's
equitable?"

"I don't know about equitable, but it's certainly log-
ical," Malum retorted.

Sarad's answering smile was tight and had little hu-
mor in it. "I'm afraid that your logic may not go far
enough. There is too much room in this plan for future
disputes."

Mahim's ready smile flashed out again. "I'm not con-
vinced, Thane, that the Commission's job is to ensure
eternal peace. I very much doubt that that is possible-
But don't you think that you're being a little pessimis-
tic? After all, there is so much land out there."

"Oh, come now. Quern, spare me the wide-eyed ap-
proach. Nobody has taken geography into account.
What happens if one nation's territory turns out to be
barren and its neighbor's is fertile? How long do you
think your agreement will hold up?'"

"I am not a Magician, my lord," Malum said, raising
his hands, fingers splayed. "I do not claim to be able to
see the future. We can only go on the best information
that we have—and a great deal of that comes from your
friend Jarrod Courtak. He is, after all, the only man to
have seen this mountain range that is supposed to bor-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 11

der the territory to the north. Think how much more
difficult, the Commission's business would be if we did
know how productive the various areas of the plain
were, or where minerals lay. I think that is all for the
best that the allocation is based on existing borders.
There is less ground, forgive the pun, for dispute that
way and any decision by the Commission is better than
none."

Borr Sarad pursed his lips and shook his head.
"You're wrong, Quern, quite wrong. You have an al-
together too optimistic view of Strandkind." He shook
his finger for emphasis. "We're used to war, though it
isn't popular to say it these days. Mark my words, when
it comes to it, any excuse will do."
"In that case, it doesn't really matter what the Com-
mission decides, does it?" Malum said with another
shrug.

Sarad gave a short laugh. "Cynic," he said.

Footsteps made both heads turn as Jarrod Courtak
entered. The Mage strode across the room, hands ex-
tended with the palms turned out, to greet the Thane.

"Morning, Borr. You all set to vote?" He smiled and
nodded to Malum of Quern.

"Well, if you propose your international idea, I'll vote
for you on the first ballot. After that it'll be every coun-
try for itself."

"History will judge you, you know," Jarrod said
lightly.

"Yes, and I understand that you're the one that'll be
writing it," Sarad replied with a laugh. "I never had to
bother about history when I was Thane and I'm too old
to change my ways now. Besides, I know what my peo-
ple want and what they have earned."

Jarrod shook his head. "It will lead to trouble," he
said.

12 t JOHN LEE

"Anything will lead to trouble," the Thane replied.
"Ask Quern."

Malum and Courtak looked at each other. Jarrod's
face was open, curious, the eyebrows raised in gentle
question. The Umbrian's face was pleasantly unreveal-
ing. He did not like the Mage. He had no overt reason
for it. The man had always been polite, had treated him
as an equal, which was more than could be said for
some members of the Commission, but that hadn't af-
fected Malum's emotional reaction to the Magician.
Part of it was undoubtedly due to an innate distrust of
Magic, some of it to the difference in height.

The Mage was a tall and imposing figure, while
Malum was short and thin. The Paladinian moved with
grace, while the Umbrian was all too conscious of his
imperfections. When it came right down to it, though,
those weren't the real wellsprings of his dislike. Those
were factors that he had schooled himself to ignore. No,
what irked him was the man's assumption of humility,
of ordinariness. All this went through his mind in a
flash; none of it showed on his countenance.

"I simply remarked," Malum said with a deprecating
smile, "that there were so many unknowns on the map
that anything decided now was bound to be challenged
later. The Thane made the very valid point that some
land will inevitably prove less productive. Any country
that finds itself endowed with unprofitable land will be-
come disgruntled, may even cast envious eyes on their
neighbors."

"My point entirely," Jarrod agreed. "It would be so
much better if people of all nations could move freely
about the Outland, settling where they wish. It is clear,
however, that apart from my friend here"—he smiled
and placed a hand on Borr Sarad's shoulder—"my poor
notion is a virtual orphan."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 13

At that moment they were joined by Otorin of Lissen,
now Holdmaster of Ostering.

"Well met, my lords," he said briskly. "You pontifi-
cating again, Jarrod?"

"I wouldn't quite put it that way," Jarrod remon-
strated mildly.

"I admire your persistence, but I'm paid by Queen
Arabella. We both know that."

"Yes indeed," Courtak acknowledged, "but I keep
hoping that the thinking man trapped in the oath will
emerge before it's too late." It was said with humor.

"You have an ability to weight phrases," Otorin re-
turned amiably, "but they are more suited to the broad-
sheets. You must know that my instructions are to vote
for partition."

Otorin of Lissen was a well-built man with a pleasant
but unremarkable face and a dusting of grey in the hair.
He didn't look particularly formidable, but Jarrod knew
that he had considerable influence in both Arundel and
Paladine.

"And if the Commission cannot agree?" he asked
mildly.

"Let's face that jump if the hounds veer that way,"
Otorin said with finality. "Ah, I see the Elector of Es-
tragoth. Give you good morning, my Lord Elector."
His voice was loud and he moved off toward the Um-
brian.

"Good morning, Lissen." The Elector was bird-thin
and stooping. The voice was light and high. He waved
in the direction of Jarrod and the Thane. "These stone
floors are dreadfully cold. D'you suppose they have any
mulled cider?"

It was a familiar complaint and request. Malum was
prepared for it. He went to the hearth and got a leather
jug. He poured a mug of cider, took it to the Elector
and withdrew without a word. He was a part of the
14 + JOHN LEE

furniture again, observing the other Commission mem-
bers as they came in. They all went to the Elector first.
It was, of course, partly politeness. His master was the
oldest person in the room and he was president of the
Commission, but the Elector had always been a magnet.

He had watched the shifting patterns of popularity
over the years. The Arundelian, Lissen, had been a non-
entity at the beginning, but he had worked quietly and
assiduously to build a constituency. The Mage, on the
other hand, had been much courted in the early years
but, once the glamour of his achievements had faded,
had become increasingly isolated. The thought pleased
Malum.

The last of the Commissioners, the Isphardi represen-
tative, entered the room in a blaze of saffron silk. The
Elector took note and cleared his throat.

"My lords," Phalastra's thin voice floated out over
the assembly. "Let us to the table. There is much to do
today."

The old man took his accustomed seat at the head of
the long refectory table. When he had been elected no
one had thought that he would last this long. He had
been old then and it had seemed a fitting gesture, but
he had stubbornly refused to die. He had never offered
to step down and no one was ill-mannered enough to
suggest it.

"Madam Oligarch, my lords," Phalastra said once
they were all settled, "we are here today to draw the
boundaries for the new territories in the Outland."

He turned his head and nodded to Malum, who got
up and distributed copies of the map on which he had
spent so much time. The delegates had seen the draft,
but it was (he sort of detail that the Elector insisted
upon.

"Now," Phalastra said, "if I have done my job aright,
you are all going to be disappointed, so please do not

THE UNICORN PEACE + 15

all speak at once. I will be the first to admit that the
allocations are not perfectly logical, but that is because
our past and our geography have little to do with logic.
Please try to look at the document from the viewpoint
of the other Commissioners. We all know one another's
positions well enough by now, so please spare us the
obligatory national anthems." There was a touch of
curtness in the voice.

There was silence, broken by an occasional cough
and the squeak of a chair on the polished wood of the
floor. Study it, Malum thought. There are years of notes
and endless hours of arguments in that map. Given the
current political climate, it was the most equitable di-
vision possible. Surely they could see that.

Phalastra of Estragoth looked down the table and
caught Jarrod Courtak's eye. He gave the faintest of
shrugs and nodded quickly and discreetly. The Mage
would be the first to speak.

"Excellence," he said, "since the Discipline is the only
party without a territorial stake in the proceeding, do
you go first."

"My thanks to the President," Jarrod replied. "For
the record, the Discipline has never formally rescinded
a claim to territory and reserves the right to challenge
any decision based on the map as it is presently drawn.
My current question is, however, to the status of the
Upper Causeway. You all know that I favor its disman-
tling, but, failing that, 1 feel most strongly that it should
be an international thoroughfare, maintained by the
countries through which it passes, but not subject to
national control. I further suggest that uniform tolls be
collected at each border and that the monies be used
solely for the upkeep of the roadway. Trade throughout
the world would benefit."

"Hear, hear," from the Oligarch Olivderval.

"A point to consider, Excellence," Phalastra said, and

16 + JOHN LEE

wondered if there was a deal afoot between the Magi-
cians and the Isphardis.

Otorin of Lissen looked up. "That would make a
country's control of its own borders somewhat parlous,
don't you think?" he asked lazily.

"Not necessarily," Jarrod said. "Individual countries
can still control who enters their territory. Customs
points are easily established at the foot of the wall."

Phalastra turned toward the Oligarch, expecting her
to speak. She did not- She sat, small, plump and com-
posed, hands folded in her lap, listening and waiting.
"Any other comments?" he asked.

"My Lord President." The voice was deep and rum-
bling, the effect enhanced by the rolling r's typical of
the Songean accent.

"By all means, my Lord Hodman."

Phalastra had anticipated questions from the Son-
gean delegation. The Hodman of the Territi, who had
joined the Commission on the death of Siegitander, sel-
dom spoke, but, when he did, he had the knack of cut-
ting to the heart of things. His grasp of international
politics was nil, but his hold on common sense was for-
midable. Generally speaking, Estragoth considered all
Songeans illiterate barbarians, but he had come to re-
spect this one.

"The position of Fort Bandor, our capital, does not
appear to be regularized on this map."

"We have left all place names off the map, my dear
Forodan," the Elector said, using the man's given name-
".You will also note that there are no geographical de-
tails, unless you care to count the Upper Causeway."

"Ah, Lord President," the Hodman replied genially,
"you are making a joke no doubt. It is well known that
Umbrian soldiers occupy the Fort. If it were upon this
map it would be plain that it is far from the border.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 17

There is no reason, after fifteen years of peace, for your
men to be there."

Phalastra produced a smile and sat forward slightly.
"As the Hodman knows," he said, with his voice lifting
a little on "knows" to indicate a certain playfulness,
"the Emperor is merely waiting for the implementation
of the recommendations of this Commission before
withdrawing his troops."

"So His Imperial Majesty has declared through your
lips on numerous occasions, my Lord President, but I
myself doubt it. Why is that, you ask?" A heavily jew-
eled forefinger rose and wagged. "Because the Emperor
hopes to control the Causeway with his new cannon
and because, by denying us our capital, he hopes to
, keep us from forming a true nation." The geniality was
gone from the voice.

"Ah, Forodan"—Phalastra managed to put a world
of injury into the two words—"you disappoint me. You
know that His Imperial Majesty has no designs on Son-
guard, indeed would rejoice to see a stable country upon
his border."

He lies so well, Malum thought admiringly as he
sanded one sheet of paper and moved to the next. The
last thing that the Emperor wanted was an organized
and cohesive Songuard. The only problem was that the
occupation of Bandor had become a rallying point for
the clans.

"Whoever controls Fort Bandor controls the valley
and that is of interest to us. The more so should the
final partition conform to the tines drawn on this map."

The new voice was deep and musical. It could have
come from any of the men around the table, but Malum
knew from experience that it belonged to the Oligarch
Olivderval.
"You sound unhappy, madam," Estragoth said with
the faintest tinge of sarcasm.

18 + JOHN LEE

"Don't try to play games with me, Estragoth,"
Olivderval returned with asperity. "You knew perfectly
well that I would be unhappy with this." She gestured
dismissively at the map before her. "I have been at pains
during the past several years to explain our position
with clarity and consistency. . . ."

"And the Framing Committee, dear lady, was well
aware of that position. There is, however, the small
matter of geography."

"Accompanied by a certain smallness of vision,"
Olivderval retorted.

"And I suppose that you have a better alternative to
offer. Perhaps we should move all the inhabitants of
Songuard north of the Upper Causeway and give Is-
phardel all their ancestral lands?" The sarcasm was pa-
tent now.

"By no means." Olivderval was urbane in response
to Phalastra's veiled hostility. "Your Lordship cannot
have failed to notice that we of Isphardel are a trading
and seafaring nation. I would suggest, therefore, that
Umbria cede its coastal region in exchange for the piece
of the Outland currently allocated to us."

There was silence, an almost tangible withholding of
sound. Malum felt a thrill run through him. Quern was
on the south coast. The idea was absurd. Never, in all
the years of discussion, had such a possibility been
voiced. It was unthinkable that a nation would give up
sovereign territory. He glanced quickly at the Elector
to gauge his reaction and saw, to his surprise, that the
man was smiling.

"An original conception, madam, and not without a
certain logic. Politically, however, it is entirely unac-
ceptable." He sounded a note of quiet regret.

"Stuff and nonsense," the Oligarch said briskly.
"What you really mean is that Varodias is too dim to
grasp the long-range advantages."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 19

The statement was greeted with little hisses of in-
drawn breath. Eyes were wide and darting. There was
no other movement. The only ones who seemed entirely
at ease were the Oligarch and the Elector.

"That is unkind and unwarranted," Phalastra said in
mild reproof. "You must be aware that any such move
would be resisted by force of arms. Not the Imperial
armies, you understand, but by the local people. Love
of His Imperial Majesty and of the Empire of Umbria
runs deep."

"As I said, you people think only in the short term."
Olivderval was relaxed and unrepentant. She sat back
in her chair and looked slowly around the table, taking
her time.

"There is one other alternative," she said at last. "It's
far more dangerous in the long term, but I can see no
other solution."

Phalastra steepled his fingers and looked over them
at the Oligarch. He seemed to be enjoying himself.
"Perhaps if you explained we should be able to make
that determination for ourselves," he suggested.

"We come back to geography. Isphardel must have
permanent right of passage through Songuard, old and
new. Roads will have to be built, the Causeway will
have to be pierced. Without that we cannot administer
the proposed territory."

"But that would disrupt the grazing and watering
patterns of the summer herds," the Hodman objected.

"Precisely," the Oligarch replied. "And of course"—
she turned back toward the head of the table—"under
those circumstances the continued occupation of Fort
Bandor would be equally unacceptable to my govern-
ment."

Malum's pen hand hovered over the parchment and
his eyes flicked toward the Elector. Estragoth had a spot

20 + JOHN LEE

of color on his cheek and his body was very still; nei-
ther of them were good signs.

"Strong words, Oligarch, strong words."
The Elector spoke calmly and even mustered the ghost
of a smile, but Malum knew that the accord was in
trouble and his master was angry. They had both known
that it was possible; the Elector had even discussed it
with him. In. fact, in one of those brilliant flights of
analysis that never failed to impress Malum, the Elector
had outlined the consequences of the vote for decades
to come. Olivderval had obviously come to those same
conclusions and was moving now to thwart them.

Malum allowed his attention to wander for a brief
time. The Oligarch made him intensely uncomfortable.
She had cultivated him, that was the only word for
it. She had sought him out at diplomatic gatherings and
had quizzed him in a friendly way. She had been frank
with her own opinions and had listened to his with re-
spect. She was fun to debate with, despite his nagging
suspicion that she had a better mind than he did. He
rather enjoyed her company. He just wished that she

would behave more like a lady.

"I have a reputation, my Lord President," Olivderval
said, breaking into Malum's thoughts, "for being blunt,
and I am. Not from any lack of sensibility, I assure you,
but because time is precious." She pushed herself up in
her chair and gazed around the table, compelling atten-
tion.

"We have all wasted far too much time on this mat-
ter. We have been dancing diplomatically for fifteen
years and I have gone along with it. We do not have
the luxury of time anymore. The Outland is ready for
settlement and every sturdy beggar, every disgruntled
younger son, every escaped criminal in the world, will
be heading out there to make a life for themselves. If

THE UNICORN PEACE + 21

we do not set up controls there will be a lawless society.
Now, I don't think that any of us want that."

She looked up and down the table again, but there
were no comments. "Very well then," she resumed, "the
time has come to talk truths—all the nasty, little stick-
ing places that it has been "bad form' to bring up. Con-
sider that, according to this map, the Kingdom of
Arundel appears to have ceded to Talisman an area
about four times the area of Talisman itself. I assume
that Queen Arabella has decided that when the lands
beyond the Mountains of the Night are explored, Arun-
del will have more than enough territory. The Empire,
on the other hand, with who knows how many leagues
of Unknown Lands to exploit, hasn't given an inch,
thereby forcing Isphardel, and only Isphardel, to settle
for a territory separated by close to a thousand leagues
from the homeland."

"Does anyone else have a 'sticking place" to bring to
our attention?" Estragoth asked as Olivderval paused
for breath.

"With the Lord President's permission," Jarrod said.
He had not intended to make this proposal, but it sud-
denly seemed imperative.

"Yes, my Lord Mage?" Phalastra said politely.

"I have discussed the earlier draft of this document
with the Archmage and he insists that the Discipline be
afforded an autonomous base in the Outland.

"I do not think," Jarrod said, hurrying on before
anyone could cut in, "that I have to remind the Council
that, without the Discipline, we would not be discussing
partition now. Besides, with the vast distances involved,
the Discipline needs a center from which to organize
and control the Weatherwarding." He had not in fact
received any such instructions, but he felt sure that
Ragnor would approve.

Phalastra sipped delicately at his cider. "Since the

22 + JOHN LEE

control of weather is of interest only to the Magical
Kingdoms, I should imagine that it is up to them to
cede whatever territory is deemed necessary. Lfmbria has
no objection."

"Nor Isphardel," Olivderval added.

"Songuard does not object," the Hodman rumbled.

"Very well then," Phalastra resumed. "I think we can
safely leave the Discipline and the Magical Kingdoms
to work out the details. Does anyone else have a prob-
lem that they would like to raise?" He looked around
the table.

"Well, it would appear that Paladine has been some-
what shortchanged." The voice, soft and diffident, came
from the Paladinian Chamberlain. "The portion marked
is consistent with our northern border, but that is the
narrowest part of the Kingdom."

There was a buzz of conversation that began to grow
louder. Estragoth banged on the table in an effort to
regain control of the meeting, but he was ignored. Fi-
nally he stood, pushing his chair back, and used his
mug on the tabletop. Slowly the meeting came to order.
When he spoke, he was calm, but the effort showed in
his rigid stance.

"The Oligarch has given us much to think about," he
said, "and it is clear that we shall make no headway
today. I suggest that we adjourn for four days and re-
convene here at the eleventh hour. If there are further
problems with the proposed partition, 1 shall be most
happy to meet individually with Commission mem-
bers." He looked from side to side. "Are we agreed?"

Taking silence for assent, he stalked from the room.
As soon as he was through the door the voices started
up again. Malum began to pack up his things. The
meeting had been a disaster. It was supposed to last the
day and now his master had cut it off inside of an hour.
The old man was going to be in a foul mood. Somehow

THE UNICORN PEACE + 23

they would have to devise a way of neutralizing the
Isphardi suggestion that the Empire give up territory
Varodias would never stand for it and the Emperor
when angry, was an exceedingly dangerous man He
looked over at the Commissioners and found them clus-
tered around the Oligarch. Damn that Olivderval'
chaptep 3

^^arrod Courtak looked up from his reading at the

knock on his door.

"Oh, hello Tok," he said to the plump Magician who
entered without waiting for permission. "What did you
do, sneak past the Duty Boy?"

"Hardly," Tokamo said good-naturedly. "I'm not ex-
actly built for sneaking. I passed the poor tyke on the
stairs buried under a pile of your washing."

Jarrod smiled fondly at his oldest friend. Tokamo still
made jokes about his girth, but he had in fact slimmed
down considerably since his thirtieth birthday. He had
become an important man in the Discipline of Paladine,
taking on more and more administrative responsibility
as Agar Thorden got older. He did most of the traveling
these days, supervising the Weatherwards and the Vil-
lage Magicians, collecting the Tithe and adjudicating

disputes.

"I haven't seen you for a fortnight," Jarrod said.
"You been off terrorizing the scullery maids at the post

inns again?"

"No such luck. I've been stuck in the countinghouse

going over the Tithe receipts. Master Thorden's got an
attack of the ague again. Needless to say, Naxania's late
with the Crown's share. So, how did the big meeting
go? My spies tell me that you were back early."

"It was a disaster," Jarrod said with relish," but it

THE UNICORN PEACE + 25

looks as if we're going to get something out of it after
all."

"You sound as if you had a good time," Tokamo
commented as he went to the sideboard and helped
himself to a flagon of ale. He took a chair from the side
of the room and brought it across.

"Oh, I wasn't the one who caused the trouble."

"I see. Who did you get to do the dirty work for you?
Borr Sarad?"

"No. Olivderval and Estragoth had one of those clas-
sic, extremely polite, head-on clashes. Why the Elector
thought that the Isphardis would accept a divided ter-
ritory is beyond me. The basic problem is that the Um-
brians despise the Isphardis."
"The Umbrians look down on everybody," Tokamo
commented.

"True, but they have this attitude that commerce is
beneath them. Mining and manufacturing support most
of the Electors, but they maintain this fiction that ac-
tually selling the stuff is plebeian."

"More fool they; there's nothing wrong with money."

"It seems to me that, as far as the Empire is con-
cerned, having it is one thing, but working for it is
something else entirely."

"Surely-this head-on clash wasn't about money."

"Territory, access and administration on the surface,
power beneath it," Jarrod said succinctly.

"Power? Isphardel doesn't have an army and . . ."
Tokamo was halted by a knock at the door.

"All right if I come in?" Darius of Gwyndryth in-
quired. "There was nobody to announce me."

"By all means, my lord. Be welcome," Jarrod said,
rising. Tokamo followed suit.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Darius said
as he advanced,

26 t JOHN LEE

"No, no. Tokamo and I were just discussing this
morning's Commission meeting."

"Ah, just what I came to do."

Tokamo fetched another chair. "Wine or ale?" he
asked.

"Wine, please."

"What have you heard about this morning's to-do?"
Jarrod asked when they were all seated.

"That Isphardel was a burr under the saddle and that
you made your own grab for land."

Jarrod smiled and leaned back. He contemplated the
Holdmaster. The man had aged well. His hair had been
white when Jarrod first met him some twenty years ago.
He had seemed an old man then, recovering as he was
from the terrible wounds he had suffered fighting for
the Empire against the Outlanders. He looked better
now than he had then. His age had caught up with the
color of his hair, but, from Jarrod's vantage point in
his mid-thirties, the Holdmaster no longer seemed all

that old to him.
"I must admit," he said, "that I had not expected
such precipitate opposition from the Oligarch, though
I knew that Isphardel would never agree to the plan."

Darius smiled in his turn. "She's a formidable
woman," he agreed. "And I must admit that I like and
admire her. Mind you," he added with sly humor, "I
am known to be partial to strong women. My old friend
Phalastra, I hear, does not share my tastes."

"I think that her suggestion that Umbria cede its sea-
coast upset him," Jarrod said judiciously.

"I know," Darius said, suppressing glee. "Otorin told
me. I love the old boy dearly, but I wish I'd been there

to see the look on his face."

"He would have disappointed you," Jarrod said. "He
got a little red, but his demeanor was impeccable."

"He hasn't survived as Varodias' chief councillor all

THE UNICORN PEACE t 27

these years without learning how to hide his feelings,"
Darius concurred. "He's a remarkable man. I only hope
that I'm as spry and as lucid when 1 get to be his age.
Still, he does what the Emperor tells him to and the
consequences of this particular move could be grave."
He nodded his head for emphasis and took a drink.

"The solution is simple," Jarrod said.

"Ah, yes. Your international territory. It's a magnif-
icent concept, but I'm afraid it's quite unworkable. The
Queen is willing to go along with your idea of an en-
clave for the Discipline but she's unalterably opposed
to the international scheme. Varodias will never agree
and Otorin assured me that Arabella has no interest in
it. None of the other powers has the capability to en-
force it, except perhaps the Discipline, but the Disci-
pline, unfortunately, is perceived as being in decline
these days." The words were said gently, but they caused
both Magicians to sit up.

"Indeed, my lord?" Jarrod's tone was politely quiz-
zical, but there was no mistaking the iron beneath it.

He's certainly grown up, Darius thought. He's a
proper Mage of the Discipline and no mistake. "Sim-
mer down, my friend," he said easily. "I'm not attack-
ing the Discipline, I'm just reporting what is generally
thought."

"Have people such a short memory that they have
forgotten that it was the Discipline that freed them from
the Outlanders?" Tokamo asked with a touch ofbellig-
erence.
Jarrod gestured with one hand to quiet him. "Are
you sure that you are reporting accurately?" he asked
in his turn.

"When was the last time someone tried to touch your
robe?" Darius countered.

Jarrod froze and then relaxed. "I take your point,"

28 + JOHN LEE

he said, "and Tokamo tells me that we are having prob-
lems collecting the Tithe."

"There you are then. The main problem remains,
however. We must have an equitable partition and we
must have it soon." Darius sat forward, intent on con-
vincing. "We have had a goodly taste of peace and most
of our citizens have prospered. Trade, the arts, archi-
tecture have all blossomed, but there is still a core of
discontent. Young men feel that they lack a challenge,
that the excitement has gone from life. Discontent can
lead to rebellion and rebellion can lead to war. We can-
not have that again."

"If you'll forgive my saying so," Tokamo interjected,
"while I agree wholeheartedly with your sentiments, I
find it somewhat strange to hear them coming from
someone who has the reputation of being the greatest
warrior of his age."

Darius turned to look at him. "Young man," he said,
"old soldiers are the best ambassadors of peace. They
have seen the horrors of war at first hand. My body will
bear its scars to the grave. I would not see the same
marks upon my grandson,"

Tokamo retreated in his chair, abashed by the Hold-
master's sincerity.

"We are far from war, I think," Jarrod put in. "The
Isphardi government's weapons are economic, not mar-
tial." He paused and cocked his head slightly. "But you
know all this as well as I. I think you had another rea-
son for seeking me out today."

Darius relaxed a trifle, produced a smile and then
sipped at his wine. "Well, I certainly wanted to enlist
your support for a partition, but I must confess that,
for myself, I wanted to inquire after Joscelyn."

Jarrod laughed. "Short of the tides, there is no force
on Strand to equal the love of a grandfather for his only
grandson. Yours continues to do well. He'll be going to

THE UNICORN PEACE t 29

the Collegium in a month for the start of the summer
term."
Darius shook his head. "1 still haven't quite adjusted
to having a Magician in the family. Oh, I know that
Marianna talked with the unicorn, but then, on that
one extraordinary occasion at Bandor, so did I. That's
not the same somehow. Marianna was chosen to look
for the unicorns precisely because she was Untalented.
No one in the family has ever been Talented."

"Then it must come through the father," Tokamo
said- "The boy is strongly gifted."

"The Trellawns have been our vassals for twelve gen-
erations and there was never a Magician among them."
Darius said. "As for my former son-in-law, his major
asset is his looks."

Tokamo was discreetly silent. Marianna of Gwyn-
dryth's sudden marriage and swift divorce had been a
much-discussed scandal in their time.

"The Talent crops up unexpectedly," Jarrod said
soothingly. "My own family is a case in point. I must
admit, though, that I was surprised when I heard that
young Joscelyn had crossed the Great Maze."

, He remembered Marianna bringing the boy to him
seven years ago. He had been tall for his age, but not
outstandingly so. He had his mother's red-gold hair and
pale skin, but his eyes were as blue as hers were green.
He was fourteen now and had grown considerably. He
lacked the physical awkwardness ofmosE boys that age,
but his voice was in the process of breaking, much to
his embarrassment. He blushed easily.

"Are you sure he's ready for the CoUegmm?"'Darius
asked anxiously. "Celador's such a long way away and
there's no one to keep an eye on him."

Jarrod and Tokamo exchanged a look. "I can assure
you that he's quite capable of looking after himself and

30 + JOHN LEE

may even benefit from not having a doting grandfather
around to spoil him."

Darius smiled ruefully. "Frankly, it's what happens
after the Collegium that bothers me," he said.

"How so?"

"Well, if his Talent's as strong as you seem to think
it is, he's not likely to want to settle down to a life at
Gwyndryth."

"You haven't,." Jarrod pointed out. "Then again, I'm
more than a little surprised that Marianna spends as
much time there as she does."
"I know." Darius drank some more wine and wiped
his mouth with his left hand. "I'd like to see more of
her, but she and Naxania don't get along all that well.
I'd also like to see her remarried," he added in a burst of
candor. "If anything happened to young Joscelyn . . ."
He let the sentence trail off.

"The boy's in robust health," Tokamo said, "and at
least you don't have to worry about him being killed in
the war."

"I wish I could be sure of that," Darius replied. "I
don't like the sound of what happened this morning.
You'll forgive my saying so, but I wish the Discipline
had more clout."

"The people still rely on us," Jarrod said.

"Yes, but it's been fifteen years since the Discipline
did anything dramatic. People become accustomed to
having dependable weather and mill wheels that turn
even when the rivers are low. They take you for
granted." He paused. "What I'm really suggesting is
that it is time for another grand gesture to reassert your
authority."

"Do you have any suggestions?" Tokamo asked

skeptically.
Darius gave a little shrug. "Perhaps Greylock would

THE UNICORN PEACE + 31

like to flex his Magical muscles. After all, he's seldom
seen these days."

"You must understand, my lord," Jarrod said quickly
before Tokamo could intervene, "that the Mage is not
as young as he used to be."

"Who among us is?" the Holdmaster said. He fin-
ished his wine, and it was apparent that he was going
to take his leave. "On the other hand," he added, "he
does have you two strapping lads to help him, doesn't
he? Look, I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but I
wish you'd think about what I've said. The Discipline's
always been the binding force in the Magical Kingdoms
and I have a nasty suspicion that we're going to need
you now more than ever."

He got to his feet, bringing the other two with him,
and parting courtesies were exchanged.

"Well, Jarrod, what do you make of all that?" To-
kamo asked after the Holdmaster had been ushered out.

"I think that Queen Naxania has more problems than
we are aware of. I've known the Holdmaster for a long
time and he's never been adept at dissimulation."
"I think he was sincere," Tokamo objected.

"Oh, he was. I've no doubt about that. I just don't
think that the visit was his idea. Naxania wants some-
thing from us and she doesn't want to face either Rag-
nor or Greylock directly. She used the Holdmaster
instead."

"Speaking of that, it's time she married the man,
don't you think? She isn't getting any younger either
and she's the last of the line."

"He's a foreigner," Jarrod replied. "That's tolerable
in a lover, but not in a consort- Besides, she's got time.
Her Talent enables her to control her body in ways de-
nied other women—as long as she doesn't perform re-
ally strong Magic."

"Well, what do you think we should do?"

32 + JOHN LEE

"I think we should go and see Greylock."

"In that case I'll leave you to it," Tokamo said, fin-
ishing off his ale.

"Not so fast. Where d'you think you're going?"

"I still have a great deal of work to do in the count-
inghouse . . ." Tokamo began.

"You're still afraid ofGreylock, aren't you?" Jarrod
said, not altogether kindly.

Tokamo stiffened, and then his shoulders relaxed.
"Who wouldn't be? The man's come back from the
dead."

"He was never dead and you know it. Honestly, Tok.
you're as bad as a village midwife."

"You should get out into the country a bit more,"
Tokamo retorted. "Midwives are among the wisest peo-
ple I've met."

"That's as may be, but Greylock's quite normal and
you know it."

"What about those times when he goes away? One
moment he's talking to you and the next he's totally
oblivious. I'll be in the middle of a report and suddenly
his mind is somewhere else. I could stand on my head
and he wouldn't notice."

"He's seen things that we haven't," Jarrod replied.
"There are questions that he's trying to answer that you
and I wouldn't know how to ask and, once in a while,
they preoccupy him. He knows that the sand is running
out for him. He's almost seventy and, for a Mage who
has been as active as he, that's a remarkable span."

"Ragnor must be in his eighties," Tokamo pointed
out.

''Granted, and that borders on the miraculous. I'm
tempted to think that the unicorn horn that we ingested
for that last spell has something to do with it."

"Is that why you look thirty rather than sixty?" To-
kamo asked acidly.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 33

"Could be," Jarrod said with a grin. "And now we're
both going to see Greylock and discuss Lord Darius'
suggestion."

"Is that an order. Excellence?" Tokamo asked with
an edge on his voice as he returned his flagon to the
sideboard.

Jarrod sighed to himself. Tokamo had always been
touchy, even as a boy. "Of course not," he said lightly.
"You've been out in the countryside and you're a good
listener. You have a perspective that Greylock and I
lack. I need you there."

"Gods but you've grown smooth-tongued," Tokamo
said, but Jarrod could see that he was pleased.

"Let's go and see the old man," Jarrod said.

ChAptCR 4

Teylock sat dreaming in front of the fire. These
were pleasant moments, the musings benign, the occa-
sional drifts into sleep unhaunted. Not like the nights
when he woke screaming against the entrapment of the
grey void. These periods of rosy drifting were a wel-
come respite, a restorative haven. He had resisted the
lure of simples to achieve the same results. He had
known too many Magicians over the years who had
abused their knowledge. The only problem was that he
would slip away into states like this when there were
other people present, so where was the difference? He
always pretended that he was contemplating questions
beyond the mere mortal, but the truth was that he tired
easily and most of their prattle bored him.

He would be Archmage one day, if Ragnor ever de-
cided to die, and then he would need all his wits about
him. It didn't seem terribly important at the moment,
though. It was doubtful that he could do anything as
Archmage that would eclipse his present notoriety—the
Mage who came back from the dead. It wasn't a bad
sobriquet. It would make a good title for a ballad. Or
was that one he had heard already? He really couldn't

remember.
His head came up off his chest, spurred by some noise.
He focused and saw the Duty Boy in the doorway.
"Saw" was a little strong; "perceived" was closer to

THE UNICORN PEACE + 35

it. The boy's outline was fuzzy. Greylock's eyes had
been getting steadily worse.

"Yes, what is it?" he asked, aware of the querulous
note in his voice.

"His Excellence the Mage Courtak and the Honor-
able Tokamo to see you, sir," the boy said.

"Show them in. Give them a glass. Try to make them
feel welcome," he instructed, and watched the boy do
his awkward best. The boys seemed to be getting stu-
pider. He remembered when Courtak had been a Duty
Boy; always falling over his feet trying to please. Still,
he's turned out well, Greylock thought complacently,
and he is the only one who doesn't treat me like a sa-
cred relic. He screwed his eyes up and saw that the sec-
ond shape was indeed Tokamo. Never did have much
Talent, he thought. Still, Thorden swore by him; wrote
good, clear reports, loo.

"Come in, come in. Make yourselves comfortable,"
he said.

Strange how different the two of them were, he
thought. They had been inseparable as boys, Courtak
always in the lead. The pattern hadn't changed.

"What can I do for you lads?" he asked.

"Sorry to barge in on you like this. Mage," Jarrod
answered, "But Tok and I have just come from a rather
unusual meeting with the Holdmaster of Gwyndryth and
he brought up a very interesting point that we felt we
ought to discuss with you."

"I see," Greylock said, "and I daresay that the ter-
ritorial settlement was the subject." He caught Toka-
mo's frozen stare. "It isn't that difficult," he added
testily. "Given the circumstances, it's downright obvi-
ous." The boy had always been slow.

"You're right as usual, sir," Jarrod said, "but I bet
you can't guess what the thrust of his suggestion was."

Greylock sat back and considered. He pursed his lips

36 + JOHN LEE

and locked his fingers together. It was a familiar routine
for both the younger men.

"That means," the Mage said, "that he wasn't plead-
ing either Stronta's or Celador's case. Talisman, from
the map you showed me, has no reason to complain
and I can't see Darius supporting Isphardel. So, as the
hero of Fort Bandor, he was espousing the cause of the
Songeans." He sat back, pleased with himself.

"A very deft analysis, sir," Jarrod said, "but, alas,
not the fact. No, the Holdmaster feels that Magic has
lost the respect of the masses, no longer enjoys the au-
thority it once possessed. In short, he believes that it is
time that the Discipline reminded people of its power,
performed some startling feat of Magic."

"Oh he does, does he?" The old Mage was fully alert.
"Did he have any suggestions?"

"Aren't you going to challenge his assumption?" To-
kamo asked.

"Of course not. The man's absolutely right. It's been
years since we did anything dramatic. Did he suggest
anything?"

"Nothing specific," Jarrod said.

"Typical of the laity," Greylock said dismissively.
"Why now, I wonder?"

"Because there's another rebellion brewing and Nax-
ania wants a distraction," Tokamo blurted.-

"A rebellion, Tok? Are you sure?" Jarrod was star-
tled.

"I caught hints of it on my last trip. I put it down to
tavern talk at the time, but now I'm not so certain."

"I think you ought to tell us about this, young man,"
Greylock said.

Tokamo was clearly uncomfortable in the limelight,
but he girded himself. "I can't be sure, sir, but people
have been commenting on the number of armed retain-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 37

ers the Duke ofAbercorn keeps. The general opinion is
that he is aiming for the throne."

"But that's absurd," Jarrod remonstrated. "He sided
with the Crown during the Lindisfarn rebellion and that
turned the tide."

"Yes I know," Tokamo said apologetically. "I'm only
reporting what I've heard. The talk is that there has
always been bad blood between the House of Strongs-
word and the Dukes of Abercorn and that Duke Para-
min wants the throne for himself. They say that he
backed the Queen before because her troops were too
strong. Well, that was just after the war and the Royal
Army was a lot stronger than it is today. There are
rumors of secret alliances between Abercorn and the
Earls ofRostan and Southey."

"I have heard nothing of this," Greylock said. "and
I have very reliable sources."

"With respect. Excellence," Tokamo replied, looking
intensely uncomfortable, "your sources are all at Court.
I've been all through the country in the past few years
and, if I'm not wearing my gown, I look more like a
fat, jolly trader than a Magician. People tend to talk
freely in front of me, especially after a few pints of ale."

"I wish that you had confided in me before," Grey-
lock said, "but you have done well, very well indeed.
So, Naxania feels threatened and her paramour thinks
that the Discipline should do something dramatic. Very
interesting."

"With all due respect, sir. Lord Darius did make a
very valid point. People are taking us for granted these
days. In light of the present difficulties with the parti-
tion treaty, he felt it was time that the Discipline reas-
serted itself."

Greylock was silent for a long time and Jarrod was
afraid that he had slipped away. Then he noticed that

38 + JOHN LEE

the right hand was drumming quietly against the arm
of the chair. The Mage roused himself.

"I haven't performed any Magic since I returned from
the Place of Power and neither has Ragnor, come to
think of it. Gwyndryth is right, people forget. I think
that we should remind them, don't you?"

Greylock's eyes were glinting, but Jarrod couldn't be
sure if it was humor, enthusiasm or the firelight.

"I haven't performed any serious Magic for a long
time," Jarrod said, excitement in his voice.

"No you don't," Greylock countered. "You've done
quite enough as it is. There's no need to create more
envy."

Jarrod winced inwardly at the implied criticism, but
managed to keep a bland face. "Have you any sugges-
tions, sir?" he asked.

"Something fairly spectacular and in the public inter-
esi;," Greylock replied.

"A grand exhibition demonstrating oui' skills,"
Tokamo suggested.

"We could always do away with the Upper Cause-
way" came, with humor, from Jarrod.

The old Mage smiled. "You think big, laddie, I'll give
you that, but I scarcely think that Strandkind would
thank you for it. They're attached to the wall. It's rep-
resented safety to them for as long as they can remem-
ber. Besides, it's a source of revenue now."

Jarrod couldn't resist. It was a favorite hobbyhorse
and he had ridden it often. "But the Upper Causeway
will divide the old territories from the new," he said.
'•It will keep the new lands out as effectively as it did
the Outlanders. It'll create new divisions."

"Good thing too," Greylock said shortly. "That'll
give the new territories a chance to develop a character
of their own, not to feel that they're a second-class off-
shoot."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 39

"I hadn't thought about it in that way," Jarrod said.

"Of course you "hadn't." Greylock sounded trium-
phant. "But it's true nevertheless. Still, that doesn't
solve the question of what we should do. You, Tokamo,
give me a thought."

He's reverting to the days when we were boys and he
was teaching us, Jarrod thought. He was also delighted
that Tokamo was being asked the question. If the past
held true, though, he ought to be thinking of an answer.

Tokamo's tongue peeked briefly out between his lips.
"Well," he said, "it ought to affect the whole of Strand
and it has to be something that people can see. Ideally,
it should have something to do with the Outland and it
should be something that could only be achieved by
Magic."

"You've stated the problem admirably, lad," Grey-
lock said, "but I don't hear an answer."

Jarrod heard the words faintly. He was flying above
Strand again in his memory. Affecting the whole of
Strand. Weather and the Upper Causeway. What else?
Then it came to him and it seemed so obvious.

"The Giants' Causeway," he said.

"I beg your pardon?" from Greylock.

The memory of the dream flickered in the back of
Jarrod's mind. He brushed it aside. "The Giants'
Causeway," he repeated. "It's unsightly, it serves no
useful purpose and it stretches across most of Strand."

"What about it?" Greylock enquired.

"If we could get rid of it . . ." Jarrod left the idea
hanging. The stone had always been used for building.
This very tower incorporated stone from the Giants'
Causeway. The images of the elusive building in the
mountains came back. Should he mention it to Grey-
lock? No, not yet.

Greylock sat back and contemplated. "Where would
the rock go?" he asked.

40 + JOHN LEE

"Out onto the Plain?" Jarrod suggested

"Glib answer as usual, Courtak." Greylock reverted
to his old pedagogical manner. "That's all very well for
the moment, but we'll get colonization at some point.
Can't have good farmland strewn with rocks. People
wouldn't thank us for that."

Jarrod kept his own counsel.

"It's not a bad idea,'' Greylock said into the silence.
"1 think the two of you should go away and work out
the details." He nodded several times and then waved
his right hand in farewell and dismissal.

By the time the two younger men had reached the
door, his chin had sunk back down to rest on his chest.

"See what a mess you've got us into?" Tokamo de-
clared as they went down the stairs.

"Don't get in such a lather," Jarrod said. "This will
have to be approved by Ragnor. The odds are that he'll
kill the whole idea." He halted and put his arms out
across the stairwell. He looked back up and grinned.
"If I were you, though," he said, "I'd try to think up
the logistics of such an operation."

"Why me?" Tokamo asked rhetorically. "I've enough
to do collecting Tithes and trying to keep the accounts
straight."

"Because you're good at that sort of thing," Jarrod
said, resuming his descent, "because Ragnor will expect
it and because I'm going to be tied up with negotiations
on an enclave for the Discipline. That might even solve
the problem of what to do with all the stone."

"Where are we going to get the labor force? You can't
call out the Farod anymore."

"Wouldn't help if we could. This has to be done with
Magic, remember?''

"Well, it isn't fair. You get to do all the glamorous
stuff and I get stuck with the logistics."

"You're wrong There, Tok." Jarrod replied seriously.
THE UNICORN PEACE + 41

"You get to travel all over Paladine, living like a nor-
mal man, drinking ale with ordinary people, and I get
stuck here playing Mage, watching every word I say lest
I offend some great lord or ambassador. There's no
glamor in that." He paused and added maliciously, "Of
course, if you'd prefer to confront the Archmage and
explain to him that the Discipline is in a decline . . ."

"Would that I could," Tokamo returned, straight-
faced, "but unfortunately Agar Thorden needs me."

They both laughed, secure in the familiarity that al-
most thirty years of friendship brings.

chaptep 5

1

n the deep woods ofOxeter, pronounced "Oxter" by
the locals and in Court circles but invariably mispro-
nounced elsewhere, men mustered quietly. Two hun-
dred of the Duke's retainers, fifty of them mounted,
prepared to move against the neighboring estate of
Sparsedale. Duke Paramin of Abercorn watched them
in the waxing light with a feeling of satisfaction. They
were well armed and moved with the automatic com-
petence of two years of intensive drilling. His son, who
would lead the expedition, sat his horse easily a few feet
away. A decade of planning was about to be put to the
test.

The Semicount of Sparsdale was a distant cousin of
Queen Naxania and a fervently loyal vassal. His lick-
spittle loyalty had been rewarded by the loan of a com-
pany of the Royal Guard, fifty seasoned veterans of the
Outland wars. The significance of their billeting had not
been lost on Paramin. They were there to act as a warn-
ing and a check. An attack on Sparsedale was an assault
on the Crown. There could be no going back after today.
The men were not wearing his livery, but they carried it
in their packs. As a result of his neutrality in the previous
uprising, he must be seen to lead when the time came—
at least if he wanted to wear the crown, and he did.

He had felt that the first uprising was ill timed. Nax-
ania was the beneficiary of both her father's reputation
and the general euphoria at the unexpected coming of

THE UNICORN PEACE + 43

peace- The cottars were sick of war, the merchants saw
no advantage in civil strife and the Royal Forces,
though weakened by the battle for Stronta Gate, were
still formidable. Events had proved him right. The for-
eign upstart Gwyndryth had put down the rebels swiftly
and efficiently. The gibbets at Stronta had stretched a
goodly number of aristocratic necks and the Crown
lands had swelled with the forfeitures.
Ten years had elapsed since then and the bloom was
off the young Queen. She was now seen as remote and
high-handed, predisposed to the northern counties and
indifferent to the mid and southern regions. Taxes were
still high. The cottars did not care that the roads had
improved or that bridges had been rebuilt. Since the
Farod had been dissolved, they traveled no farther than
the nearest market. The great Indowners may have prof-
ited from the peace, but the small farmer an9 the day-
worker had seen little improvement in the condition of
their daily lives. It amused the Lord Paramin to be
thought of as the champion of the poor and the op-
pressed. It was they who had paid for the men who were
riding out on this clear morning, but they were too stu-
pid to realize it. Nevertheless, their passivity, their belief
that their lord acted in their interests, would be the key
to victory this time. The witch Queen had no offspring
and the accursed House of Strongsword would be no
more.

Paramin watched as his force moved out of the wood-
lands in orderly fashion. He had brief words of encour-
agement for his son, Bardolph, words that brooked no
failure, and then he withdrew to his castle. If the assault
failed, he intended to disavow it. His errant, glory-
hunting son had acted on his own initiative in an at-
tempt to set up a fiefdom for himself. Young men these
days, deprived of the release and the discipline that war
had provided, were prone to such things. If, and the

44 + JOHN LEE

gods forbid such an outcome, his men were driven off,
Paramin would be contrite for his failure to recognize
his son's ambitions and dissatisfactions. He would, of
course, have to mount another, more sizable, attack at
some other target fairly swiftly or lose his credibility as
a leader. If the worst came to the worst, he would lose
his son. It was an entirely acceptable risk. If all went
well and the other disaffected vassals rose, he would be
king. He was still capable of siring other sons. Indeed,
on this morning the future seemed to stretch before
him limitlessly. He turned his horse's head, clapped heels
to flank and galloped back to the castle. He was hungry.

News of the fall of Castle Sparsedale and the anni-
hilation of the Royal Guards reached Stronta four days
after the event. Added to the shock were rumors that
two of the southern provinces had declared against the
throne and that the Earls of Rostan and Southey were
coming out for the rebels. There was conflicting infor-
mation about six of the thirteen counties, but it was
obvious to Darius that a serious rebellion was under
way. The summons to the Presence Chamber came as
no surprise.

Queen Naxania sat upon the throne, pale as ever,
black hair hanging straight past her shoulders. Ordi-
narily the sight of her exhilarated Darius, even after all
these years. Today, however, the white face was set, the
mouth was a grim line and the long-fingered hands
gripped the arms of the throne tightly. Greylock, the
Mage of Paladine, stood before her, and Darius was
aware that his entrance had brought their conversation
to a halt. His eyes flicked around the room as he ad-
vanced across the polished floor. No ladies-in-waiting,
no courtiers, Just the three of them. He came to a halt
the required twelve paces from the throne and bowed.

"Give you good morrow, my lord," Naxania said,

THE UNICORN PEACE t 45

using the Formal Mode. There was no warmth in the
voice.

"May Your Majesty prosper," he returned, using the
Formal Mode in turn. He had become adept at it during
his years at Court, though he would never speak Pallic
with the accent of a native.

"Whether we prosper or no depends on you," Nax-
ania replied tartly. "We presume that you have had re-
ports of the insurrection."

"I have, ma'am."

"And what, pray, do you intend to do about it?"

Darius glanced in Greylock's direction.

"Oh, the Mage is refusing to assist us, but we do not
think him a traitor." It was angrily said. "You may
speak freely."

"I have dispatched a company of archers, two hun-
dred foot soldiers and about a hundred horse to recap-
ture Sparsedale. Support units will follow. Unfortunately
we have no siege engines; none have been needed until
now."

"And think you that a mere three-hundred-odd men
is a sufficient force?" Naxania's tone was sharp.

"I can only hope so, ma'am."

"Why are we not sending more men?"

"If Your Majesty will recall," Darius said patiently,
"the Royal Forces have been reduced to three thousand
men—two thousand foot, including archers, and one
thousand cavalry. We have, in addition, two Cloud-
steed Wings, but I believe that permission is needed
from Talisman before they can be used in combat. If
this dastardly seizure prompts a more general rising, we
must have troops on hand to counter it."

Naxania rounded on Greylock. "You see. Excellence,
why we need the assistance of the Discipline? How can
you stand there and deny us?"

"Daughter"—Greylock used the Discipline's nomen-

46 + JOHN LEE

clature deliberately—"you know, better than most, the
answer to that."

"But you cannot stop us from using our art in the
defense of our throne."

"Have a care, daughter. Do not challenge me," Grey-
lock said evenly. "I both can and will deprive you of
your power if needs be."

Darius turned to the Mage in surprise. He had not
known that someone with the Talent could be deprived
of it. The Mage's face was weary, but his expression left
no doubt that he meant what he said. Darius faced the
Queen again. Her back was straight, her eyes wide and
her nostrils flared, but she said nothing. The threat hung
in the air.

"If Your Majesty will permit," he said to break the

tension.

Naxania's head turned slowly. Her gaze was far from
grateful. "Proceed, my lord," she said coldly.

"I think that the remainder of the Royal Forces
should move south without becoming engaged in the
relief of Castle Sparsedale, and I think that it would be
best to ask the former Thane of Talisman for permis-
sion to deploy the cloudsteeds."

Naxania took a deep breath. "Do what you think

best, General."

Her attention returned to the Mage. "You have not
heard the last of this. Excellence," she said, "and if you
expect your Tithe, you may whistle for it." She drew
herself up. "We need detain you no longer, my lord
Mage. but we would have further speech with you. Gen-
eral."

Greylock gave a court bow and withdrew. Naxania
watched him leave, her lips compressed into a line once
more. When the door had closed she looked at Darius
and, abandoning the Formal Mode, said, "That man
tries my patience. He's so fixed in the traditions of the

THE UNICORN PEACE + 47

past. He doesn't seem to realize that the world has
changed, and the same goes for the Archmage. They
are both anachronisms. There ought to be some rule
about retirement so that we could get some new blood
into the upper ranks of the Discipline."

Darius made no reply, knowing that anything he said
would be wrong. He had come to know her very well.
Naxania got to her feet.

"We need to talk," she said. "Let us go and sit by
the window. There's no point in your standing all the
time and that throne isn't the most comfortable of
seats."

She led the way to the embrasure that looked out
over the garden and turned her chair so that she could
see it. Darius followed suit.

"It's serious this time, isn't it?" she said.

"Rebellion is always serious, my love," Darius re-
plied gently, "but you have overcome one challenge and
you will survive this one. If you remember, you thought
that doom was at the gates the last time."

She looked at him and smiled, then reached out and
stroked his cheek. "What would I do without you. I
was green then. In retrospect they were a disorganized
rabble of petty lordhngs. Besides, we had a lot more
troops in those days. Whoever is behind this plot has
had years in which to plan. They have all built up their
private armies in defiance of my ordinances while my
forces have dwindled. I shouldn't have listened to you.
I should have raised taxes and kept my forces up to
strength."

"And have a disaffected people all too willing to see
you overthrown," Darius reminded her.

"Old arguments," she said with a sigh.

He realized how tired she really was, and the old in-
stinct to console, cradle and protect her rose up as
strongly as it had almost twenty years before. He leaned

48 + JOHN LEE

forward, took one of her hands in both of his and
rubbed it gently. She allowed her shoulders to droop
and turned her head to him with a soft little smile that
caught at his heart. The impartial light from the win-
dow showed the stains beneath her eyes that powder
had concealed.

"This time," she said, "the Duke of Abercorn has
committed himself and he has better than a thousand
men under arms, or so my spies tell me."

"He hasn't exactly committed himself," Darius cor-
rected. "My information is that his son attacked
Sparsedale with a force of about two hundred men. If
we retake the castle, and it'll be a tough nut to crack,
I'll wager that the Duke will be full of chagrin and pro-
testations of innocence."

"We'll have to scotch him one way or another. He
isn't going to stop this time. He wants my throne and
he is no longer a young man." She squeezed his fingers
and looked into his eyes. "There's something I want
you to do for me, my dear."

"Of course, my love."

"I want you to go and take charge yourself. After all,
you are the man who retook Fort Bandor. Will you do
it?"

Darius leaned back a little as if to see her more
clearly. "Well," he said, "I had hoped that you were
going to ask me to take you to bed."

Caught by surprise, she laughed, withdrawing her
hand to cover her mouth. When the laughter had sub-
sided she said, "You are an unregenerate, loin-driven
old goat. But you will do it, won't you?"

"I'm getting too old for this," he said with resigna-
tion.

"If you're young enough to tumble me, you're young
enough to retake an old castle."

"There's only one way to find out," he said, standing

THE UNICORN PEACE + 49

up. He reached out, caught her hand and pulled her to
her feet- "First we'll have to see if I'm young enough
to tumble you."

"Well, Otorin," Darius said some hours later, "how
about it? Will you join me? It'll be like old times."

"Not quite, I hope. I was playing the squire then, if
you remember. I'm not going back to polishing your
armor and currying your horse."

"I should hope not," Darius replied with gruff hu-
mor. "I've got a proper squire now, one who knows
how to keep my armor greased and not just bright."

"Besides," Otorin continued, ignoring the jibe, "I
have to get Arabella's permission to bear arms on be-
half of another monarch."

"No real need for that," Darius replied. "I want your
brain, not your swordarm."

"It's the technicalities that can ruin a man's career."

"Well then, do what I did at Angom. Apply for per-
mission and go ahead in the meantime. It didn't do me
any harm."
"True," Otorin conceded, "but then again, I'm not
one of the Queen's major vassals."

"No, you're more secure than that. You work for
her. So we'll have no more argument."

Otorin sighed theatrically. "I don't know why I listen
to you, let alone why I let you bully me. Besides, the
Commission for the Outland is due to vote on parti-
tion."

"The Commission has waited for thirteen years, it
can wait a mite longer. And, if you need a better reason,
you're as bored of life at the palace as I am. It'll be
good to be out in the field again; admit it."

"Oh, very well, but I'm not going into battle again
and that's flat."

"Good enough. Now, as you undoubtedly know, I've

50 + JOHN LEE

dispatched two hundred infantry, a hundred horse and
about fifty bowmen. Brant is in charge of the foot- Olm-
sted the horse and Katon has overall command. Borr
Sarad has taken the responsibility of releasing one Wing
to me. I intend to send them south and take the rest of
the Royal Forces with me."

"I would advise against that," Otorin said.

Darius looked up, surprised. "Why so?"

"Two reasons. Even if you leave the balance of the
Royal Forces at Gapguard, there Is always the possi-
bility of a flanking move through the mountains and I
think it would be unwise to leave the capital defenseless.
Secondly, I don't think you want to retake Sparsedale
right away."

"I concur on the first, but I don't understand the
second," Darius said a shade defensively.

"Young Bardolph's "nothing but a stalking horse.
Paramin of Abercom is the one you need to tame. He
sits secure in Oxeter and lets others, in this case his son,
do his dirty work. You'll have to draw him out and a
nice, slow siege might just do it. If you keep Bardolph
securely bottled up it should discourage others from
joining the fray."

"Well, if there was any doubt about it," Darius re-
sponded, "you've just proved how much I need you."

Otorin smiled warmly. "You always were a good field
commander." The smile died. "If you'll forgive my ask-
ing, how secure are you in the Queen's support?"
Darius' shoulders stiffened.

"I'm not trying to be impertinent, I'm just being
practical," Otorin said, reading the signs.

Darius relaxed. "As secure as I'm ever likely to be,"
he said, remembering with pleasure the way the morn-
ing's audience had ended. "Mind you," he added, "I'm
perfectly well aware that I shall always be 'the for-
eigner' and, in the last analysis, disposable, but so long

THE UNICORN PEACE + 51

as I can defeat her enemies and if I can hold on to her
affections, I should be all right." His mouth twisted into
a wry smile. "Neither of them is getting any easier. The
men keep getting younger."

Like the Marquis of Bethel, Otorin thought. "You
have one enormous advantage over them," he said
briskly. "You have no ambition to sit 'on the throne.
That may be less compelling in the bedchamber, but
when it comes to the army, it's of paramount impor-
tance."

"Let's get back to the siege," Darius said. "What
about Rostand and Southey?"

"What about them?"

"Don't tell me that you haven't heard of them."

"Both of them are earls, both have very large hold-
ings on the coast. Both engage in trade, both are very
wealthy."

"And both of them are in league with Abercorn,"
Darius finished.

Otorin smiled. "Their names have come up."

"Well, you don't expect them to sit around and do
nothing, do you?"

"Oh, I rather imagine that they will allow the Duke
the honor of rescuing his son, don't you? My informa-
tion is that they would not be too upset if Abercorn
were taken out of the game. All three have ambitions
and there is only one throne."

"Let's hope that you're right."

"It's my job to be right about things like that and
Arabella's gold has been judiciously spent to make sure
that I am."

"We'll be riding out the day after tomorrow," Darius
said. "Can you be ready by then?"

"I'll be ready just as soon as I send a bunglebird off
to Celador. I have a squire of my own these days to do
the packing."

52 + JOHN LEE

"Fair enough. We'll be starting at first light."

Otorin groaned. "As the General commands." He
gave a mocking half-bow.

"Any other suggestions?"

"I'd put the word around that you are requisitioning
every wagon and draft horse. I'd give the Royal Ar-
morer an order for half a dozen ballusters. Make sure
that the troops here engage in some highly visible ma-
neuvers outside the walls."

"I see. You want all this to get back to the Duke."

"And to the Earls."

"You're a devious man, Lissen."

"One of us has to be," Otorin said, and grinned.
"Oh, and you might send a Royal Messenger to either
Southey or Rostan, it doesn't matter which."

"Bearing what message?"

Otorin shrugged. "Something innocuous. An inquiry
about crop rotation in the south, perhaps. It'll give the
others something to worry about."

Darius shook his head and his lips curled up. "I'm
glad you're on our side," he said.

chAptep 6

1

m arrod Courtak rode toward the mountains of Talis-
man, leaving the preparations for putting down the re-
bellion behind him. Tok had been right, he thought;

there had been trouble brewing and now his own cousin
had attacked Sparsedale. He had never met his relatives
and had no feelings for them, but he was not pleased at
being kin to traitors. Nor was he particularly pleased
with this slow trip to Celador. He had been spoiled by
the almost instantaneous trips through Interim on the
back of a unicorn, but there were no unicorns on Strand
at the moment. Peltia, his favorite, came back occasion-
ally to introduce a new crop of foals. Her mother,
Amarine, came more rarely still and then only to visit
Marianna. Nastrus was the most constant of them, but
he was off on one of his explorations. Jarrod's mind
shied away from the thought of Beldun. He no longer
had nightmares about killing Beldun, but the memory,
though buried deep, was still there.
The quiet of the morning had been dispelled by the
clopping of horses' hooves and the creak of cart wheels.
Jarrod rode slightly ahead of the rest. Their presence,
too, was an irritant. If he had had his own way he would
have traveled alone, but these days his dignity de-
manded an entourage of servants and men-at-arms. It
was almost enough to make him miss the overfaithful
Sandroz. Sandroz had finally gone home, though. Times
had changed.

54 + JOHN LEE

The soldiers behind him on the raised road that ran
through the leagues of rice paddies were testament to
that. Since the war's end, bands of "sturdy beggars," as
the broadsheets called them, roamed the countryside
stealing from farmers and waylaying travelers. Most of
them were former fighting men who had no taste for
peacetime occupations. They were the scourge of every
country, but, if the tales were to be believed, were par-
ticularly active in the Empire. Merchants now banded
together in caravans and hired bravos of their own.

Off to the left, atop a gentle rise, was one of the new
lantern houses that were all the rage. Monuments to
their owners' egos, they appeared to be more glass than
masonry. Not a shutter or a pail of damp clay to be
found in them, no fortifications, commanding nothing
but a view. They were impressive, especially at night
when they could be seen from leagues away, that much
Jarrod had to admit, but, if Darius of Gwyndryth was
right and war came again, of what use would they be?
He shook his head and urged his horse into a canter
along the elevated roadway. The column adjusted its
pace and the driver of the baggage cart swore and
cracked his whip.

Celador, as they approached it from the east, seemed
unchanged. There were no new dwellings outside the
walls and the delicate spires still pointed ethereally at
the sky. There were guards at the gates, but they were
offered no challenge. No wardcorn blew a welcome or
a warning. The courts, as the party clopped their way
through them, were crowded and progress was slow.
People took no notice of Jarrod. Celador was the un-
official center of the Discipline, and Magicians were a
common sight. The welcome at the stables, where Jar-
rod was remembered for the unicorns, was warm. He
hoped that it was a good omen for his coming meeting
with the Archmage.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 55

"His Excellence, the Mage Courtak," the Duty Boy
announced in a stentorian voice worthy of a Court
Chamberlain.

As Jarrod advanced into the well-remembered cham-
ber, Ragnor roused himself and the sharp-faced cat that
had been curled up on his lap jumped down and
stretched. It had been a while since Jarrod had seen him
and he hoped that the shock he felt did not show on
his face. The long, white hair had dwindled to wispy
strands that revealed the pink scalp. The face was lined,
but then it always had been. Now it was blotched as
well. There were little, vertical lines around the mouth
that Jarrod didn't remember. The neck was scraggy and
the skin loose. The mouth seemed too small, but when
Ragnor smiled Jarrod realized that it was because there
weren't too many teeth left.

"Come in, lad, come in," the Archmage said some-
what indistinctly, beckoning with a long, bony finger.
"Ptill up a chair." He waited while Jarrod complied and
then rang a bell. "When the Duty Boy comes, ask for
a bumper of sherris."

"Thank you, sir, but it's a bit early for me."

"It's not for you." Ragnor leaned forward conspira-
torially. "My prison guard of a Wisewoman has forbid-
den me spirits. Says it affects my balance. Since I can't
get around as well as I used to, I'd be obliged if you'd
go along with this little deception. Pleasures are few and
fleeting at my age."

"Now," he said when the Duty Boy had left and the
thick glass was safely cradled in his hands, "what brings
you to Celador? I thought the Commission was poised
on the brink of decision."

"Not entirely," Jarrod replied and launched into an
account of what had transpired.

"You did well," Ragnor said when he was finished,
"though I do think you might have consulted me first."

56 + JOHN LEE

"I'm sorry, sir. It was a spontaneous move on my
part. I'd had an unusual dream the night before, and,
during the session, a kind of compulsion came over me."

"Dream?" Ragnor said sharply. "What sort of

dream?"

"I was out on the Alien Plain, all alone, shut in by
grass. When I got clear of the grass 1 saw a large build-
ing of some kind up in the mountains. It kept appearing
and disappearing, but it seemed to offer refuge. I tried
to climb up to it, but things kept getting in the way. I
finally lost my footing and fell. That's when I woke up."
Described baldly like that, it seemed trivial, but the
Archmage seemed to be taking it seriously.

"Can't say that I can see any particular meaning in
it," he said after a couple of minutes of thought. "I
certainly don't rerfiember seeing anything like that in
my glimpses into the future." He waved a hand. "But
that future was changed by the unicorns. It might have
something to do with this idea of territory and moun-
tains are always good places for Weatherwards, but in
the near term I think we need something a little closer
to home, don't you?" He looked over at Jarrod before
sipping at his sherris.

"Do you have any suggestions?" Jarrod asked dip-
lomatically.

"Since the Collegium is here," the Archmage replied,
"the new center ought to be in Paladine's territory. The
only trouble with that is that Naxania will be far harder
to deal with than Arabella. The wretched woman's
bound to want something in return. Still, I suppose I
should send a special envoy." He gave Jarrod a specu-
lative look. "No," he said, "better if it wasn't you.
Naxania's not too fond of you as I recall."

"1 wasn't aware of that."

"Yes, she objected when I made you a Mage. Jeal-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 57

ousy I imagine. She know? perfectly well that you can't
have Mages sitting on the throne."

Jarrod decided to change the conversation. "Lord
Darius came to see me," he said. "He seems to think
that the Discipline is losing its clout. Thinks we should
do something about it. Greylock agrees with him."

"Does he indeed? And what, pray, does he suggest
we do?"

"Well, Greylock's idea is for us to clear away the
rubble of the Giants' Causeway with Magic."

Ragnor sat back and stroked his thinning beard. "It's
certainly ambitious enough, but I can't see how you're
going to do it."

"Greylock is working on that. You know how he
loves that sort of challenge."

Ragnor smiled- "Finding a 'scientific' answer," he
said. The smile disappeared. "You better make sure
he gets it right." The voice had a hard edge. "If any-
thing went wrong it would make us a laughingstock and
then we really would lose our clout."

"Yes sir," Jarrod said hastily.

"You keep me informed, understand?"

"Yes, sir." He may look frail, Jarrod thought, but I
wouldn't care to cross him.
"Good." Ragnor sniffed   and finished his drink. "I
think you're ready for   another glass and then you can
bring me up to date on   things in Paladine. Naxania's
got a rebellion on her   hands, I hear."

"D'you think that's entirely wise?" Jarrod asked, re-
ferring to the sherris.

Ragnor glared at him and rang the bell.

When Jarrod got back to Stronta, he found that the
insurgency was the topic on everyone's lips. General
Gwyndryth had gone south with a force whose numbers
varied wildly depending on who one talked to. Despite

58 + JOHN LEE

the crisis, the diplomatic dance continued. The work of
the various committees was supposedly over and Estra-
goth convened no formal meetings, but the politicking
went on. Each of the Commissioners was wooed in one
fashion or another by both Umbrians and Isphardis.
The difference in style was instructive.

Estragoth stayed above the fray, leaving the footwork
to Malum of Quem. The latter was punctiliously polite,
sending a squire over to request an appointment, ap-
pearing at the exact hour agreed upon and being pro-
fessionally pleasant on arrival. He spent ten minutes
inquiring after Greylock's health, made a pretty admis-
sion of the awe in which he held Magicians in general
and Jarrod in particular, presented Jarrod with the gift
of an armclock and tendered an invitation to dine with
the Elector. The man was entirely amiable and no overt
pressure was applied; indeed, the matter of the partition
was not mentioned.

The Oligarch, on the other hand, arrived with no
prior warning, bustling in behind the Duty Boy.

"Don't bother to announce me," she said. "He knows
who I am and I know that he's here." She grinned at
the boy and tousled his hair. "Welcome back, by the
way."

"To what do I owe this honor, Olivderval?" Jarrod
asked, rising from his desk.

"Bribery and shameless arm twisting, of course," she
replied cheerfully. "You going to offer an old woman a
seat and a drink?" She turned back to the Duty Boy
without waiting for an answer. "Something long, cold
and innocuous," she declared, smiled, moved over to
the fireplace and thumped down in an armchair.

"I'll have the same," Jarrod said. He turned to the
Oligarch. "I take it that this is about the partition?" He
crossed the floor and took the other chair.

"Of course it's about the partition. I love you dearly,
THE UNICORN PEACE + 59

but I only heave my bulk up four nights of stairs if
profit or the national interest are at stake."

Jarrod smiled at her directness. "I still believe that
the OutIanJ should be an international zone adminis-
tered by the Discipline."

"Of course you do, but we both know that you can't
muster enough votes to carry that," Ohvderval said
comfortably. "And partition's too important for you to
waste your vote sitting on your dignity and abstaining.
Besides, I backed >our bid foi land and you owe me.
When it comes right down to it, you're no different from
the rest of us "

They broke off as the Duty Boy returned with the
drinks Jarrod raised his glass to her and they sipped as
the boy withdrew.

"I can't support your claim to the Umbrian sea-
coast," he said. "Besides, Varodias would never cede it
even if every other nation voted for it."

"I'm well aware of that, but I had to say something
to shake Estragoth out of his appalling superiority. And
it worked, didn't it? I'll wager that Malum has been
around to see you."

"He has."

She chuckled. "What did you get? The armclock or
the miniature steam engine?"

"The armclock," Jarrod admitted.

The Oligarch shook her head. "Umbrians are so stu-
pid. Don't they realize that Magicians detest machines?
Mind you," she added disconcertingly, "I rather fancy
young Malum. Why is it, d'you suppose, that large
women like me have a weakness for small, slender
men?" She looked up from her watered fruit Juice and
smiled broadly at him.

"I don't think I'm qualified to answer that," Jarrod
replied cautiously.

"Really?" Olivderval said pleasantly. "I would have

60 + JOHN LEE

thought that anyone who had bought a brothel in Be-
lengar would be something of an expert on the subject
of women."

Jarrod controlled himself with considerable effort.
He sat back in his chair and sipped his drink. After
the defeat of the Outworlders he had gone on a tri-
umphal tour of Strand with Ragnor, and when they
were in Belengar he had visited the brothel where Sa-
manthina had worked, hoping to find her. She had
moved on, but, on impulse, he had provided dowries
for all the other girls. He had done it anonymously,
however.

"If you know that," he said slowly, "you undoubt-
edly know that I did it to give the girls their freedom."

"As you did when you bought all those birds in the
Exotic Bird Mart ana released them."

There was a long moment of silence.

"You are very well informed," Jarrod said finally.

Olivderval smiled. "Information is the lifeblood of a
merchant, my dear,"

"I thought that I'd been clever," he said sadly. "I did
everything through third parties and I paid them well
to keep their mouths shut."

"Oh, you did very well for an outsider. The truth cost
me far more than I was originally prepared to pay. It
wasn't so much your money that did it as fear that if
you found out, you'd cast some terrible spell."

"Youthful follies," Jarrod said with a shake of the
head and a small smile. "Mind you, I don't regret it
and I could well afford it." What he did regret was that
he hadn't been able to find Samanthina. At least
Olivderval didn't know that.

"No doubt." Olivderval's tone was smooth. "But it
wouldn't look too good if it got out now."

"Ah, the arm twisting." Jarrod was back in control
of himself again. He knew where she was heading. "A

THE UNICORN PEACE + 61

gamble on your part, of course. Disclosure can always
work more than one way. Now, what about the brib-
ery?" He raised his eyebrows.

"You're a cool customer, Jarrod. I somewhat under-
estimated you, though I still think that, if it came down
to it, you would protect your reputation. The public
doesn't like its heroes buying brothels."

"Oh, I don't know," he countered with a purse of the
lips, "it might humanize me, don't you think?" It was
his turn to smile.

"You're really very good." Olivderval allowed her
eyelids to droop, producing a calculating look. "Nev-
ertheless, you're a sensible man and I know that you
see the merits of our position."
"I might if I knew what your position really was."

"Internationally guaranteed access through Son-
guard and the new Songean territory." Her lips tight-
ened. "Administration and communication will still be
enormous problems, but we're rather better at func-
tioning a long way from home than is the rest of the
world. The Umbrians will have to abandon Bandor,
that goes without saying. That'll bring the Songeans
to our side.

"On the other hand, Songuard isn't exactly a ia^v-
abiding place. It wouldn't take the mountain tribes long
to figure out that there is more profit to be made by
raiding Isphardi caravans than by herding their rono-
ronti. That means that we shall have to provide military
escorts and that would mean building fortified guard-
posts on Songean soil. That in turn would mean friction
with the government—if they get themselves a proper
government by then."

"And how do you propose to finesse that?" Jarrod
was beginning to enjoy himself, but he remained wary.

"The valleys would have to be patrolled by a force
composed of Paladinians, Arundelians and Talismanis.

62 t JOHN LEE

The Songeans will have to provide us with a base at or
near Bandor." Olivderval paused and shot him a mea-
suring look. "The cost to be borne by the Umbrians
and ourselves."

"And you think that the Umbrians will agree to give
up Fort Bandor and pay for your security." He allowed
himself to sound skeptical.

"I don't see why they shouldn't," Olivderval replied
offhandedly. "After all, we have been paying for their
garrison at Bandor for a very long time."

"I see." Jarrod was noncommittal. "And what does
the Discipline gain by supporting this plan?"

Olivderval shrugged. "The Discipline has no interest
in major territory and this arrangement wouldn't cut
into your Tithes."

Jarrod shifted in his chair and sipped his drink. "Not
nearly good enough," he pronounced. "Had it not been
for the Discipline, there would be no new territory. Peo-
ple have forgotten how close the Outlanders were to
victory, but I am sure that your fellow Oligarchs are
not unmindful of the effects of peace upon commerce."

"It has fostered competition is what it's done," she
rejoined. "You did us no favors by obliterating the en-
emy. Most of the best and brightest men were engaged
in the war; now they are bored and they have turned
their skills to making money. Your friend Marianna of
Gwyndryth is a case in point. She has invested in ships
and is doing a thriving business exporting the produce
of her region. She has factors at Seaport and at Belen-
gar."

"She's never said anything about that and neither has
her father."

"Of course not. They're an old aristocratic family and
commerce is supposed to be beneath them. However,"
and an admiring note crept into OlivdervaPs voice, "that
young woman has access to a very large amount of cap-

THE UNICORN PEACE t 63

ital and she hasn't taken the usual route of buying up
the neighboring estates, which is what I suspect Lord
Darius would do."

She gave Jarrod a speculative look and followed it
with an open smile. "I haven't been able to trace the
source of her backing and that, I confess, intrigues me.
I thought for a while that the Holdmaster was plunder-
ing the Paladinian treasury when Naxania wasn't look-
ing, but there are two major problems with that
supposition. The first is that there isn't a moment when
Naxania isn't looking and, having made friends with
Lord Darius, I cannot believe that he is capable of do-
ing anything that devious." Her slightly hoarse chuckle
came again. "It's disconcerting, if somewhat reassuring
in a strange way, to come across a completely honor-
able man. Even fifteen years with Naxania hasn't cor-
rupted him and that's saying a lot."

"This is all very interesting," Jarrod said, "but I don't
see what it has to do with the Discipline."

Olivderval's humor vanished. "Do I have to remind
you that the Discipline has but one vote and that Is-
phardel has considerable influence?"

It was Jarrod's turn to smile. "Ah, but you seem to
be forgetting that the rulers of Paladine and Arundel
are members of the High Council of Magic. You should
not underestimate the power of the Archmage. If we
were to campaign openly against you, where would you
stand? Songuard might vote with you if you promised
them the return of Bandor; the Empire will vote against,
no matter what you do. Even if you got Talisman's vote,
you would still lose by four to three."

"The Discipline has a long history of not intervening
in political matters," Olivderval said sharply.

"But as you so aptly pointed out, my dear Oligarch,
this is too important a matter for us to sit on our dig-
nity."
64 + JOHN LEE

"I see." Otivderval gave him a long weighing look.
"And what would it take to gain the Discipline's sup-
port?"

Jarrod relaxed a little and raised his glass again. Let
her wait, he thought as he drank. He let the silence
lengthen and then he looked up.

"I think a Concordat between Isphardel and the Dis-
cipline would be appropriate." he said. "Mind you, I
can only speak for myself. Ragnor is the one who could
make that kind of decision and then in consultation
with the High Council."

Olivderval sat back and he saw her body relax. She
was confident in her abilities to haggle, and it showed
in her posture. "I understand, of course, but it might
be instructive to find out what you would feel comfort-
able recommending to the Archmage."

Jarrod pursed his lips as if considering, though he
had, in fact, thought about this eventuality. "Isphardel
might agree to pay the Tithe in return for the extension
of weather control to its territories," he suggested.

Olivderval's muscled tensed, though her hands re-
mained calm and her face showed nothing. "We are
talking about a great deal of money," she said, "and
about the establishment of Discipline outposts on Is-
phardi soil."

"And on Songean soil, too," Jarrod agreed. "But I
should think that the guarantee of predictable winds for
your shipping and an amelioration in your climate
would be worth it."

"And in return, we should be assured of your sup-
port?"

"And in return, I will undertake that no pressure will
be brought to bear on either Naxania or Arabella. They
will be encouraged to make their decisions in accor-
dance with their consciences and their national inter-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 65

ests. My own vote will, of course, depend on the will of
the High Council."

Olivderval sat and looked at him. Then she devoted
some attention to her glass.

"I think you're bluffing," she said at last. "Besides,
that's not a decision that I can take on my own. We
both have councils to report to."

"I quite understand," Jarrod said politely. "This is a
difficult and complex matter." He put down his glass
and stood to indicate that the meeting was over.

"Here, take this," Otivderval said, holding out hers.
"I need both arms to get me out of a chair these days."

He obliged and she heaved herself erect. She collected
her cloak, and he escorted her to the door. She turned
at the threshold and looked up at him with an unex-
pected grin.

"Ragnor's taught you well," she said. "I used to
enjoy jousting with him when I was at Celador. I can't
be sure that the others will approve this Concordat,
but it's a very shrewed strike because it has a spurious
appearance of parity. I can't say that it has been a
pleasure doing business with you, but it's been stimu-
lating."

She turned to leave, thought better of it and turned
back. "Oh, by the way," she said, "I'm having a little
party three days from now and I shall expect you to
attend. My apartments, the nineteenth hour and don't
eat anything that day."

She smiled, reached out and patted his arm in a pro-
prietary way before taking her leave. Jarrod watched
her crab her way carefully down the stairs and surren-
dered to an intense feeling of relief and satisfaction. It
was no small thing to get the better of Olivderval. Her
jolly, outgoing personality masked one of the best minds
he had ever met. The Concordat had been his own idea
and, though Ragnor had embraced it enthusiastically

66 + JOHN LEE

during their last meeting, he had doubted that he could
sell it to the Isphardis. He still wasn't sure, but the Oli-
garch's apparent acceptance was a good sign- Well. thir-
teen years on the Commission had made a diplomat.
He had made his mistakes and he had learned. Practice
was giving him confidence.

chapren 7

ie double walls of Sparsedale lofted grey and grim,
defying the summer sunlight. The fortified manor was
old, and there was no hint of the new style in its archi-
tecture. It was built on an artificial hill, the better to
avoid the corrosive power of the now nonexistent Out-
land atmosphere. A space around the bottom of the hill
was enclosed by blind walls with square towers at the
corners. There were only two gates in the outer walls,
one north, one south, their doors defended against fire
by sheets of iron. The flat hilltop was surrounded by
the inner walls, and these were pierced by arrow slits.
The manor house itself was invisible from beyond the
outer gates.

In happier times the demesne fields that lapped
against the somber walls would have been a patchwork
of greens, grain followed by peas and beans, fallow,
then forage. There had been an extensive kitchen gar-
den in the lee of the southern wall with an orchard
beyond it. The men from Oxeter had felled the fruit
trees and destroyed the garden. The fields had been
trampled, first by the raiders and then by the Queen's
troops. The besiegers' tents now rose where wheat
would have been ripening.

There were three villages dependent on the manor—
Upper Waltham, Middle Waltham and Nether Walt-
ham—and in these the officers of the Royal Forces were
billeted. Since bed and board were paid for, the more

68 + JOHN LEE

affluent of the freedmen and cottars who had space
available were happy to be inconvenienced. All the lo-
cals were happy that the lord's boonwork was in abey-
ance. Indeed, there was an almost festive feeling in the
villages. This feeling was, in no little part, due to Da-
rius' strict regulations on dealings with the landsmen.

Upper Waltham boasted the only inn in the area and
it was there that the General had established his head-
quarters. Of all the local folk Elfreg, son of Elgast, was
probably the happiest. With the foreign General in res-
idence, there wasn't a hint of trouble, despite the fact
that the Stook and Plough had the only supplies of
wines and spirits in the region. Ate, of course, was a
different matter. That was brewed in almost every
household, with varying results, but, if the siege lasted
long enough, Elfreg confidently expected to make his
fortune. True, he had lost the use of his back bar, taken
over by the General as a strategy room, but it was a
small price to pay.

The General was, in fact, sitting in that same room,
legs thrust forward, hands linked over an incipient
paunch, staring morosely at drawings of Sparsedale
pinned to the paneling. There were side views of the
outer fortifications, but most were of the interior, seen
from above. The cloudsteedsmen had proved unexpect-
edly useful.

Though the drawings did not show as much, the main
house, which occupied the central position, was built of
stone and slate-roofed. Darius knew from reports
gleaned from former servants that it was constructed
over a ground-level undercroft, used for storage. A
small chapel shared one wall. There were no indications
that the Semicount was a Matemite. so Darius sup-
posed that the chapel was dedicated to local deities.

The inner courtyard contained a number of separate
buildings. There was a kitchen, a bakehouse, a smoke-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 69

house and a privy. The well stood close by the kitchen.
The drawings were unreveating, but the outbuildings
were wood-framed with wattle-and-daub walls and
thatched roofs. Two gates, one east, one west, gave onto
broad stone stairs that descended to the lower court-
yard. Given adequate amounts of food and the contin-
ued operation of the welt, a small force could stand off
a much larger one, even if the outer walls had fallen.

The bailey contained a wooden granary against one
wall and a stone stable for horses, plough oxen, carts
and harnesses. Workrooms for the saddler and the
wheelright were against the north wall, together with a
mews for hawks with weathering stones for the young
birds outside it. There was a second well close to the
stairway and a large communal privy in the southwest
comer. All in all, a well-set, well-thought-out establish-
ment. There were weaknesses, though. For one thing,
the place hadn't been constructed with cloudsteeds in
mind. Thatched roofs and timbered walls were easily
fired from above. He had not resorted to that yet, but
a trip to the privy had become a risky adventure.

He heard a rumbling of voices and his head came up.
A moment later there was a rap on the door and Otorin
came in.

"Well, welcome back," Darius said, sitting up and
drawing his legs in.

Otorin deposited his saddlebag on a chair and grinned
at his old chief. "I thought you'd be here so I took the
liberty of ordering some ale. I've been riding for seven
hours and the roads are damnably dusty."

Elfreg appeared as if summoned by the words, obse-
quious smile firmly in place. He put down a tray con-
taining two tankards, some bread and a pot of meat
paste. He bowed himself out and closed the door qui-
etly.

70 + JOHN LEE

"Would it be indiscreet to ask where you've been?"
Darius asked.

Otorm put his tankard down and wiped his mouth
with the back of his hand. "Of course it would be, es-
pecially''—he raised his voice—"because we both know
that that miserable innkeeper is listening at the door."
Then he added in a more normal tone, "What I have
to tell you will make it obvious enough."

"Take your time," Darius said, knowing he had no
choice.

"Where d'you want to begin, Stronta or Oxeter?"

"Oh, Oxeter by all means. I've had a stream of im-
practical suggestions from the Queen."
"Her Majesty finds herself deprived of wise counsel
in your absence," Otorin said diplomatically, and then
spoiled it with a wicked smile. "Oxeter it is, then," he
added noting Darius' expression.

"The doughty Duke is lying low; keeps to his cham-
ber most of the time, waiting for word from his son.
Your siege would seem to be tighter than he expected."

"No one's got out and we've shot down five bungle-
birds to date- They're tricky, but they're slow." Darius'
voice rumbled with satisfaction.

"Yes. I don't think they expected cloudsteeds. Your
experience at Bandor has come in handy."

"Can I expect more forces coming to raise the siege?"
Darius asked.

"I think not," Otorin said judiciously, "at least not
yet."

"Then perhaps we should add some fagots to the
fire."

"How so?"

"By setting the granary and the other wooden build-
ings alight."

"And allowing a bunglebird to get through," Otorin
added.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 71

"Precisely."

Otorin smiled. "You learn fast, my friend."

Darius raised his tankard. "I have a good teacher."

"In that case, may I suggest an added stratagem?"

"By all means."

"Organize a company to sap the outer walls."

"Is (hat necessary?" Darius asked.

"Probably not." Otorin was imperturbable. "On the
other hand, with the cloudsteedsmen keeping the enemy
indoors, there's no danger. A company of experienced
sappers would be invaluable to the Crown. Warfare has
changed and I suspect that there will be a lot more sieges
in the future."

"I take your point," Darius said, allowing admiration
to surface. "I'll see to it. Think it'll draw old Paramin?"

"If he's drawable."
"Would you get sufficient warning if he does decide
to move?"

Otorin got up and went over to the window before
replying. "Probably, but if he does rise, he'll not do it
alone. As far as I can tell, he hasn't contacted the south-
ern group, but he's a devious bugger and I can't be
sure."

"It sounds as if I should order the cloudsteeds to
make regular reconnaissance flights."

"A good idea, but if we're going to keep them this
busy, it might be sensible to bring down the second
Wing."

"The Queen won't like it," Darius said. "Active duty
costs more."

Otorin turned from the window and raised his eye-
brows, but said nothing.

"Well," Darius said into the silence, "at least we'll
be doing something."

"You are to be commended on your restraint," Oto-

72 + JOHN LEE

rin said, and Darius was not sure whether he was being
ironic. "It isn't like you to sit and do nothing."

"I've been riding around talking to the locals," the
General admitted.

"And?"

"The more I see the less I like this Semicount."

"Oh, really?"

Darius sighed and took another drink before reply-
ing. "When we first arrived the people around here sang
his praises; understandable, of course. We'd ridden to
his rescue and it was safer to say what they thought we
wanted to hear. There's grumbling now though and
what I see are hedges, lots of hedges, and sheep, most
of 'em bearing the lord's brand. The common pasture's
been enclosed."

"You should get out of Stronta more often," Otorin
said, recrossing the room and taking his seat. "It's go-
ing on all over. Manors are being strengthened at the
expense of the small tenant farmers. Boonwork is being
commuted for money, and at a very rapid rate. What
used to be the privilege of the freedman is becoming a
burden on the cottar."

"Can't say as I like it," Darius remarked. "I'm old-
fashioned, I'll admit, but the old customs and the old
duties worked well. The lord consumed and controlled,
but the villagers ran their own lives, made all the agri-
cultural decisions when it came to their own holdings.

"That's another thing. This Semicount kept meager
estate by all accounts, stints on feastdays, provides thin
beer, serves oat bread instead of wheat at the Plough
Supper." He snorted. "It's no way to treat one's peo-
ple."

"Peasants always gripe about their lords," Otorin ob-
served mildly.

"Oh, there's more to it than that," Darius replied.
"The bailiff's nowhere to be found. It's said that he's

THE UNICORN PEACE + 73

in the castle with his master, but I have a feeling that
he was murdered. And I can't find anybody who'll ad-
mit to being reeve."

"So there's no one to look out for the lord's inter-
ests," Otorin said.

"No tallage has been collected; though there have
been deaths, no one has paid heriot or gersum. There
hasn't been a Hallmoot since Greeningale."

"So Sparsedale hasn't collected any taxes or fines to
tide him through the loss of the harvest."

"More to the point, justice hasn't been done," Darius
returned. "Once order goes, a small society like this one
crumbles." He stopped and cleared his throat. "I'm
thinking of presiding at a special Hallmoot."

Otorin smiled. Typical, he thought. "Why not?" he
said. "It'll give you something to do instead of sitting
around and swilling ale."

"You take altogether too many liberties for a sub-
ordinate," Darius growled amiably. "Now that you're
back, you might try and make yourself useful. Organiz-
ing that team of sappers might be a good place to start."

"That'll teach me to make suggestions," Otorin said
wryly. "Seriously though, if you hold this Hallmoot, are
you going to collect Tithe and taxes?"

Darius grinned. "Only where absolutely necessary.
We depend on the goodwill of the local population. If
the Semicount had been an exemplary lord, I might fee!
differently, but my gut tells me that he's an exploiter.
He'll have no complaint about our treatment of his
lands, unless it's unavoidable, and I'm having a tally
kept of everything we eat that has his brand on it. He'll
be paid for that."
"And who's going to pay for his tumbled walls?"
Otorin asked teasingly.

"Oh, I should think his freedom ought to be worth
something," Darius replied, deadpan.

74 + JOHN LEE

"And if he doesn't survive, it won't bother him,"
Otorin added.

"True."

Otorin shook his head and smiled. "You're such a
wonderful old relic," he observed. "Sparsedale's petty
malfeasances have really riled you, haven't they? They
offend the tenets of your class. I have a suspicion that
if the manor house was occupied by a contingent of his
tenants and cottars, you'd support them."

"Let's not go too far," Darius said. "The social order
must be preserved. When you look closely at the way
of things, a Holdmaster's tenure is a precarious thing.
Rebellion and the resulting anarchy can never be con-
doned."

Otorin smiled lazily and finished his ale. "Gods but
I hope your kind survives," he said lightly. "Honorable,
old-fashioned, cleaving to tradition and giving it mean-
ing." He put his tankard down on the tray. "The world's
changing, old friend. Enclosure's but the beginning.
There will be a mad dash to the new and the best of the
old will be forgotten."

"Gloomseeker," Darius said good-naturedly. "The
old ways will survive because they're good ways. My
daughter runs Gwyndryth as I ran it. Our people would
not have it otherwise."

"And your grandson will be a Magician," Otorin
said, almost as an aside, as he got to his feet. "I'll take
a bath. General, and then I'll get about organizing the
sappers."

"You'll dine with me," Darius said sternly. "There's
a deal more I need to know about your trip."

"As the General commands," Otorin replied, mock-
ing smile back in place.

ChAptCR 8

uring the slow days of high summer, the Hall-
moot was held within sight of the walls of Sparsedale.
The villagers gathered to pass judgment on their peers.
Fines were levied for the brewing of inferior ale; there
were two cases of "lying together before the banns,"
five of slander, six of illegal entry into tenure stemming
from the disappearance of some of the cottars. Deci-
sions were arrived at for the harvest, simplified this year
by the destruction of a large part of the crop, and for
the autumn ploughing. By the end of the sennight a
hundred petty details of everyday life were settled.

Otorin watched the proceedings with a nostalgia for
an age-old practice that he had never shared. He was a
new landholder and an absentee at that. but here, in the
center of Paladine, the immemorial ritual unfolded with
a solemn civility that pleased him deeply. Darius, as
Otorin had expected, presided superbly. His Pallic was
serviceable though far from elegant, but his quiet air of
authority was undeniable. The villagers themselves in-
creasingly turned to him for decisions despite the fact
that he was a foreigner. Darius held firm for the lord in
the matter of fees and fines, but over the thorny ques-
tion of the evening impoundment of livestock he took
the other tack.

By long tradition, all livestock were brought back
from their daily grazing across fallow belonging to the
lord and penned in areas adjacent to the outer walls.

76 + JOHN LEE

This ensured that demesne lands remained well fertil-
ized. Since the seizure of Sparsedale, the locals had kept
their beasts on their own land, claiming, not without
reason, that the lord's pounds and sheepcote were no
longer safe places. The General concurred, knowing that
this year's lean harvest would have to be remedied by
a larger than usual winter wheat crop. This, the final
judgment of the session, was met with approbation, and
the villagers dispersed peaceably to their homes.

Darius was clearly pleased with his own perfor-
mance. He bantered lazily with his officers at dinner
that night. Though there was an air of celebration, Oto-
rin noticed that the General drank very little. His offi-
cers, perforce, did likewise. The reason came clear at
the end of the meal when he ordered a doubling of the
guard and told the men to be on the lookout for a sortie
attempt around dawn. After he had dismissed them, he
and Otorin returned to the back room of the Stook and
Plough for a nightcap.

"You really think they might try to break out?" Oto-
rin asked, feeling slightly put out that Darius hadn't
discussed the matter with him beforehand.

"Problem is, I don't know young Barthold, but it's
what I'd do. That Hallmoot was a gauntlet thrown
down. He must know that he'll get no help from that
quarter. Combine that with the firing of his fodder sup-
plies and there's not much choice. He may have supplies
in the manor's undercroft, but most of the food for the
horses would have been in the outbuildings. Without
healthy horses he has no hope of fighting clear and get-
ting away."

"Weren't you taking a bit of a risk holding the court
within sight of the walls? Billeted troops are seldom
popular, and if there had been a ruckus, it would have
given considerable heart to our opponents."

"It was a small risk," Darius said complacently, ac-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 77

cepting a glass of sack. "Our men have acted honorably
and there is a general craving for order and tradition in
the countryside. Mind you, 1 don't think the Semicount
will be all that happy with some of the results."

"I don't see why not," Otorin demurred. "You up-
held his suzerainty and preserved at least a portion of
his revenues."

"That's as may be. He'll be irked that I let his rights
of pasturage and penning lapse. I doubt he'll be able to
get them back now that precedent has been broken. An-
other thing: I don't know if you were there when har-
vest duties were discussed, but there was no mention of
the lord's boonwork."

"If he's halfway intelligent," Otorin remarked, "he'll
commute it for money. There are no Farod levies to
contend with so there's more than enough labor avail-
able."

"It's the principle of the thing," Darius growled.

Otorin smiled.

"Don't you mock me, young man," Darius said.
"Wait till you're older and have become attached to
your land and the ways of its folk."

"Let's change the subject," Otorin said amiably. "I
got word this afternoon from a friend of mine at Oxe-
ter. A messenger galloped out two days ago, heading
southwest. I'd post a sharp watch for incoming bungle-
birds if I were you."

Darius looked up sharply. "You think the Duke is
preparing to move?"

Otorin swirled the amber liquid in his glass thought-
fully. "I'm not sure," he said. "It would be far more in
keeping if he got his allies to attempt the relief. On the
other hand, I doubt if they will be willing to move to
the aid of his son without a greater commitment of
troops on his part. In terms of a throw of the bones for
a throne, this is a very small gesture. 1 think we can

78 + JOHN LEE

look for some sort of movement, though from which
quarter I cannot be sure."

"The game's afoot then," Darius said with relish.
"Damn, but this has been a good day!"

Otorin tightened his lips and a ghost of his smile ap-
peared. "I'm glad you think so."

Darius' smile was broader. "You know me," he said,
"I can't stand sitting around doing nothing."

The sortie took place just before dawn, as Darius had
predicted. Flight, however, was not the objective. The
housing erected to protect the sappers was, and the de-
fenders were able to inflict considerable damage before
they were beaten back inside the walls. The besiegers
pressed them hard, trying to gain access to the lower
court, but were, in turn, repelled. Six of Darius' men
were killed, and ten from the manor. The only good
thing to occur, from Darius' point of view. was that one
of the bodies was found to be wearing a piece of the
Duke's livery under his mail. The commanders endured
a lacerating tongue-lashing from the General-

The following day, outriders from the cloudsteed
squadron patrolling to the south reported a concentra-
tion of armed men approaching the market town of
Aldersgrove, some twenty leagues to the south of Sparse-
dale. Estimates of numbers were sketchy, but the bulk
of the men were on foot and shouldering pikes. Darius
ordered the patrols to limit their range to fifteen leagues
with occasional solo reconnaissance nights at maximum
altitude. When Otorin found him in the back bar, he
was poring over maps.

"What news?" Darius asked without looking up from
the table.

"My friend reports that a force of-two hundred
mounted retainers remains at Oxeter," Otorin reported.

"What about footmen?"

THE UNICORN PEACE + 79

"No footmen."

Darius looked up slowly. "Abercorn has more men
than that. Naxania estimated that he had over a thou-
sand retainers. What happened to the rest of them?"

"Well, first of all, I have questions about the accu-
racy of the Queen's figures, but that aside, I suspect that
the rest have either gone to ground in an effort to con-
fuse us, or are on their way south to join the main rebel
band."

"Could they have done that without your friend be-
ing aware of it?"

"It's possible, though I should not like to think so.
It is also possible that they were sent south some months
ago to train with the other forces."
"I thought your informants were reliable," Darius
said irritably.

"Well, they're not professionals, if that's what you
mean," Otorin returned urbanely. "The government of
Arundel has no reason to plant spies in the household
of a Paladinian nobleman. The people I recruited are
motivated by grievance and greed—a fairly reliable
combination in my experience. Let us not forget,
though, that Duke Paramin has been laying his plans
for a very long time and that he is a very rich man.
There is no law that says that a man's declared retainers
have to be kept on his own estates."

"What I have to know to be able to formulate a strat-
egy," Darius said with studied resonableness, "is if I
must detach forces to protect against an attack from
the south, or if I have to defend my back from Aber-
corn."

"If I were a wagering man, I would bet on the south."

"So would I, but I can't just lift the siege and march
away."

"No, but you can appear to do it." Otorin drew up
a chair and looked at the maps. "Bring down three hun-

80 + JOHN LEE

dred men from the garrison at Gapguard," he advised.
"Keep them hidden in the woods north of Upper Walt-
ham, assemble your men with panoply and march them
away. If you're lucky, Bardolph will be tempted out and
then your new rear guard can fall on him."

Darius nodded. "I'll send a cloudsteed to Gapguard
with the orders. I think you should stay here and take
charge of this end of the operation. That'll allow you
to keep your lines of communication to Oxeter open.
I'll leave you two squadrons ofcloudsteeds."

"I rather doubt that Queen Arabella would approve
of that," Otorin said.

Darius produced a rather wolfish grin. "I have no
intention of telling her. Have you? Besides, for all your
theoretical knowledge, you've never actually had a field
command, have you?"

"You are an exploitive, old bastard, you know that?"

"Yes, I do," Darius said comfortably.

"I wish to go on record as officially protesting this
high-handed action on the part of the General of the
Paladinian Forces," Otorin said formally, and then
smiled.
"Your protest is noted and overruled," Darius re-
plied.

"In that case, I have no recourse but to accept. Now,
I think you should leave the sappers here and you'll
need a token force in front of both gates or he'll become
suspicious."

"Stop trying to teach your grandmother how to can-
dle eggs," Darius replied with high good humor. "The
orders have already been given."

"You were that sure of me, were you?"

"Yes, 1 was," Darius replied smugly.

"I'm losing my touch," Otorin said in a mock grum-
ble. "Have you picked a spot for the battle?"

Darius stabbed a finger at the main map. "They

THE UNICORN PEACE + 81

probably crossed the Salvant at Astly Bridge. From the
description of their arrival at Aldersgrove, they must
have spread out to forage. Not too much coordination
between the commanders, I suspect, and scant discipline
among the men.''

"The Duke's men are well trained, I'll vouch for
that," Otorin commented.

"Same informant who missed their departure?" Da-
rius asked.

Otorin shrugged. "Try to remember that 1 have to
depend on Paladinians." The two Arundelians ex-
changed a smile. "So, when do you expect to engage
them?"

"Can't tell. I'll want them to move north of Alders-
grove. There's a range of hills running south-southeast."
His finger traced a line on the parchment. "If I could
coax them out onto the plain with my troops waiting
behind the hills, I could attack them from the flank."
The finger flicked across the map.

"Nice plan," Otorin said approvingly. "Seems to me
that I saw something like it in Umbria."

"Bite your tongue," Darius replied. "That engagement
was a disaster."

"It's always best to learn from other people's mis-
takes," Otorin said sardonically.

A sennight later, Darius marched south, banners fly-
ing. Otorin watched them go. He had great faith in
Darius' capabilities; he'd seen them put to the test out-
side Angorn, but that had been eighteen years ago.
Other than the recapture of Fort Bandor, an altogether
different kind of operation, and a couple of skirmishes
early in Naxania's reign, he'd had no battle experience
since. Skills, like suits of armor, rusted when they were
not used. Otorin was fond of the General, more fond
than he would readily admit, and Darius was no longer

82 + JOHN LEE

young. It worried him. He turned his horse and headed
back toward Upper Waltham.

Now that he was on his own again, Otorin allowed
his natural pessimism to surface. Not that he thought
of it as pessimism; being realistic was a phrase more to
his liking. It was true, however, that he normally ex-
pected the worst. If it happened, he was ready for it. If
it didn't, he was grateful. In this present pass, he gave
Darius no better than an even chance of winning. The
recapture of Sparsedale. at this point, would be rela-
tively simple, but the real fight would be won, or lost,
by Darius. In either case, he himself would soon be free
to continue his real calling.

He tossed his reins to a groom and strode into the
inn. Darius had thought that he was doing him a favor
by leaving him behind and putting him in charge of the
siege. The man had, with his usual shrewdness, ac-
knowledged the uses of information, a trait not com-
monly found in generals. The problem was that Darius
had only been thinking of the present situation. Back
in Stronta messages would be accumulating, always
dangerous, and going unanswered, which was worse.
Stronta, for the moment, was the center and he was
away from it. Otorin of Lissen was a worried man.

chapteR 9

ie Paladinian capital basked somnolently in the
summer sun. There was little sign of crisis, though the
barracks wore a hollow air. Cats prowled languidly and
dogs lay panting in the shade of buildings. The Court
continued, cool behind the thickness of the ancient
walls, but most of the courtiers, following a tradition
that had grown up since the war and doubtless spurred
by the political uncertainty, had returned to their es-
tates and would remain there through the harvest. Sheep
and kina now grazed the land between the Great Maze
and the Upper Causeway. The Outpost drowsed peace-
ably.

Most of the members of the Commission for the Out-
tand had returned home, pending developments, but the
Elector of Estragoth, using his advanced age as an ex-
cuse, had remained at Stronta. Malum of Quern, his
chief deputy, had returned home for a visit, but was
expected back any day. There were Isphardi traders to
be seen, as usual, but, commerce apart, the Umbrians
were the only foreign presence in the city. It was a sit-
uation that pleased Estragoth.
He had been surprised and somewhat nattered when
Varodias had chosen him as the Empire's representative
to the Commission. The partition of the Outland was a
major concern, and that took the sting out of the in-
voluntary exile that went with the post. It was, he
thought, a fitting conclusion to his service to the Crown.

84 + JOHN LEE

He had helped to steer the Empire's course for more
than forty years, always trying to look to the future
with eyes unblinkered by factionalism. The partition was
the future and the signing of the treaty would allow him
to retire on a triumphant note. He had never dreamed
that it would take this long. The wretched Isphardis . . .

He shifted in his padded chair and winced as the gout
that plagued his joints twinged. He had been less happy
when the Emperor had charged him with the task of
developing a network of informers in the Magical King-
doms. He had had his sources in Umbria, no politician
could survive without them, but he had never consid-
ered himself a spymaster. Now he was and he had come
to enjoy it.

The Paladinian landowners had but a rudimentary
feel for intrigue, though their Queen saw plots every-
where. Even the Duke of Oxeter, by far the craftiest of
his clients, had handled this uprising clumsily. It was
doubtful now that the Umbrian treasury would recover
its investment. Still, he had relished his dealings with
Paramin and the entree they had provided to the other
disaffected nobles. He had a good grasp of what was
going on in Paladine and a fair understanding of Arun-
del.

His major weakness, ironically, was that he no longer
knew, with any certainty, what was going on back home.
He was too old, he reflected, to protect his own interests
at Angorn when he was out of the Emperor's sight.
Varodias' support had always been his best defense, but
the Emperor was notoriously fickle. The Emperor's
constant suspicions of foreign intrigue were his safe-
guard, and he had taken pains to see that Varodias was
kept well informed. It had cost a great deal of money,
some of it his own, to obtain the information, and he
wasn't entirely convinced of the veracity of some of it.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 85

His instincts, so well honed at home, were unanchored
here.

There was a rapping at the door and the head of his
bodyservant appeared around it.

"The Lord Malum craves admittance, sir."

"Show him in and fetch us wine," the Elector com-
manded.

Malum, when   he entered, was attired in fresh clothes,
but his wet   hair attested to the fact that he had changed
quickly and   had come directly to report to his master.
The Elector   sat up with difficulty.

"Come in, come in; fetch up a chair. I've ordered
wine. When did you get in?"

"Barely an hour ago, my lord," Malum replied,
smoothing down the sides of his head self-consciously.

"And how did you find Quern after two years of ab-
sence?"

"Better than I had feared and not quite as prosperous
as I had hoped."

"Good seneschals are hard to find," Eslragoth com-
miserated.

Conversation was suspended as the servant brought
the wine in and poured it. Once the man had withdrawn
the Elector said, "I know that you will present a written
report, but I'd like to hear how things are at home in
your bwn words. Don't worry if you digress, you never
know what will turn out to be important."

Malum permitted himself a smile. "It's amazing how
time spent abroad alters one's perspective," he said.
"The comfort of rediscovered familiarity is overwhelm-
ing, but certain things show themselves in a new light."

"Go on," Estragoth said.

"Well, the trip back along the Causeway was un-
eventful, but it's getting more expensive to cross bor-
ders. It cost us three imperials to get into Songuard and
twelve to get out again. Angom itself was unchanged,

86 + JOHN LEE

quieter than usual because it's summer, but I was sur-
prised by my reaction to the place. As you know, I came
late to the capital, but when I went back this time I felt
as if 1 was going home." Malum's face was softened by
reminiscence.

"I'm sure that it was all very touching," Estragoth
said dryly, "but how were things at Court? How was
the Emperor?"

Malum collected himself. "The Emperor," he said
briskly, "was well—as far as I could judge. I saw him
at a distance at a morning robing,"

"You did not have a personal audience?" Estragoth
was sharp.
"No, sir. I requested one and explained that I had a
message, a personal message, from you. I was told to
make a report to the Chamberlain. I did so, but I took
the liberty of omitting those parts that I deemed for the
Emperor's eyes only. That part of the message I put in
a letter and paid a gent'eman-of-the-bedchamber to de-
liver it into His Majesty's hand."

"I see," the Elector said weariiy- "And do you really
think that it got to the Emperor unopened?"

"As a matter of fact I do," Malum replied compla-
cently. 'The transaction took place at the robing and I
saw the packet delivered."

Estragoth smiled. "I underestimated you, young man.
You are to be complimented. Nevertheless, it disturbs
me that Varodias would not grant you an audience."

"I don't think that His Majesty was aware of my re-
quest. I believe that it was denied at a lower level. The
Court seemed to be on edge. I mean more than usually
so. There have been a number of, ah, differences of
opinion between landowners. The Electors tend to side
with their vassals and that has increased the friction
between the Electorates."

Estragoth produced a paper-thin chuckle.

THE UNICORN PEACE t 87

"Ondor and Beltran are virtually at war," Malum
continued. "The Elector of Rodenlac has annexed es-
tates belonging to Adelfras of Hodial; even the Church
has not been immune from depredation. No one touches
the Imperial holdings, but that, it seemed to me, had
more to do with the strength of the Imperial Forces and
the number of members of the major families who are
His Majesty's 'guests' at Angorn than to any great rev-
erence for the Crown."

"You paint a disturbing picture," the Elector re-
marked, and sipped cautiously at his wine.

"It gets worse," Malum said tersely. "From Angom
I headed south for Estragoth. People travel in armed
groups these days. Bands of sturdy beggars are a con-
stant threat. In fact, we came under attack nine times
between Angorn and Estragoth."

"And does the Emperor do nothing about this law-
lessness?" the Elector asked.

"Oh, aye," Malum said with bitter amusement. "He
hires out soldiers to provide the escort."

The Elector shook his head and clicked his tongue in
disapproval. "Surely the roads in Estragoth itself were
safe?" he said.
"They were. Mind you, with the tolls your son is
charging, they damned well ought to be." Malum knew
the remark was impertinent, but it was an accurate re-
flexion of the outrage his traveling companions had felt.

The Elector sat up and winced anew. "Tolls?"

"Six vards per person every ten leagues," Malum said
dryly, "with men-at-anns doing the collecting."

The Elector leaned back again, his mouth drawn
down in displeasure. "Did you tell them that you were
bearing messages from me?"

"Indeed I did. I even showed them your seal. They
were most polite, but quite insistent."

Estragoth's brow furrowed and a flush appeared on

88 + JOHN LEE

his cheeks. Malum, knowing the signs, hurried on. "The
Margrave refunded my money as soon as I reached the
castle."

"And how were things at home?" The question came
out in a low growl.

"Your son, the Margrave, keeps proper estate. His
wife is charming and the children are noisy and healthy.
The Electorate seemed peaceful and it looks as if the
harvest will be good this year. I was told that the coal
trade was progressing smoothly, though profits are
down because of the need to protect shipments." He
paused and drank some wine. "Manufacturing is not
doing so well because of disruptions in the supplies of
raw materials from the other Electorates. This has
caused some unrest in the towns, but not as much, I
was told, as elsewhere in Umbria." He stopped again
to see how the old man was taking his recital. The lined
face was impassive once more.

"I wonder if I might have some more wine?" he asked.
"Talking is thirsty business."

Estragoth gestured to the tray and Malum got to his
feet. He took the opportunity to extract an oilskin-
covered package from his belt pouch. It was closed with
the seal of House Estragoth. "These are letters from
your family," he said, laying it on the Elector's lap.
"I'm sure that they will give you a much better picture
of things than I can." He stooped and poured himself
another glass of wine.

The Elector turned the   package over a couple of times
and then set it aside.   "You did not mention Coppin,"
he said. "As I recall,   my youngest was a friend of yours.
You must have seen him   at Angorn."

"No," Malum replied, taking his seat again, "but I
saw him at Estragoth. There is a letter from him among
the others."

THE UNICORN PEACE    89

"Not at Angom?" The question came out on a rising
note.

"No, my lord. He had returned home to attend a
wedding." It was a partial truth. The wedding had taken
place a month earlier and Coppin had stayed on for the
hunting.

Estragoth relaxed. "It is never wise for a House to
be unrepresented at Angorn," he remarked, "but fam-
ily obligations must be honored." He nodded to him-
self. "How long were you at Estragoth?" he asked.

"A little over a sennight," Malum replied. He smiled.
"I should have liked to stay longer. Your family was
most hospitable and I got to do some hunting with
Coppin, but it is a long way from Estragoth to Quern."

"And is the South as turbulent as the rest of the Em-
pire?"

"Not really, but I think that's because it is basically
agricultural. Most of the unrest seems to be in the
towns. Although, even in my county, there has been
some, er, consolidation of estates."

"Why all the trouble in the urban areas?" the Elector
asked.

"It's the subject of considerable debate. Prices have
gone up and wages have stayed low. There are more
able-bodied men available for work since the war ended
and now there are a lot of fifteen-year-olds starting to
look for employment. Taxes are high, housing's becom-
ing scarce, the last two harvests were bad and the price
of bread is high." Malum shrugged. "Some say that the
nation's sense of purpose has gone." He paused and
sipped his wine. "And then there's Simian the Hermit."

Estragoth waited a couple of beats. "And who is he?'"

"He's an intinerant preacher," Malum replied. "I'm
told he comes from Clovermede in the Electorate of
Pathan. At first he wandered around the countryside
preaching against the Church of the Mother. He con-

90 + JOHN LEE

siders the church too rich and too closely allied with
the aristocracy. He contends that they do nothing for
the poor. He attracted considerable crowds.

"He was arrested and brought to trial for sedition,
but there was no proof that he had spoken against the
Emperor." Malum produced a wintry smile. "There is,
apparently no law against inciting peasants to seize
church lands. So they let him go and he shifted his focus
to the plight of the workers. He has a lot of people very
upset."

"All in all, not a very reassuring prospect," Estragoth
said gloomily. "It makes our job more vital still. If we
had the Outland to settle, there would be ample land
for all. It would give the Empire a new sense of pur-
pose, a new challenge."

"Any news on that front, sir?" Malum asked.

"Alas no. Sarad and that witch Olivderval have gone
home to consult their governments, Courtak is away
again on some strange mission, Naxania is preoccupied
with a rising of disaffected nobles, Otorin of Lissen is
off trying to put down the rebellion. Only Forodan of
Songuard is still here and he's busy playing the gentle-
man. It will be at least another month before the Com-
mission" reassembles."

The old man sighed and finished his wine. He looked
across at Malum. "There are days when I doubt that I
shall live to see the work completed. The infernal Is-
phardis undermine everything I do."

"There are ways of taking Olivderval out of play,"
Malum said quietly. "There is a price for everything in
Belengar, even the life of an Oligarch."

Estragoth gave a wintry little smile. "I doubt if it
would do any good. She speaks for the rest of them and
a couple of the other Oligarchs would be even harder
to deal with." He shook his head absently.

"Pay me no mind. It's late and I'm tired. Do you go

THE UNICORN PEACE + 91

and get yourself something to eat. I'll stay up a while
longer and read these." He reached out and touched
the packet lightly.

Malum rose and took his leave. Surely, he thought
as he made his way back to his room, there must be a
way to get the treaty signed. They had worked too long
and too hard to be cheated at this point. If it couldn't
be achieved by fair means, then perhaps by foul. Noth-
ing to be done about it for the moment, though. He'd
get caught up tomorrow on what had been going on in
Paladine while he had been away. This rebellion
sounded interesting.

chaipteR 10

ie Outland was much on the mind of Jarrod Cour-
tak. The work on clearing the rubble of the Giants'
Causeway was proceeding almost too well, thanks to
the reappearance of the unicorn. The Magicians and
cloudsteedsmen had been seconded and had evolved a
smooth routine. Best of all, Nastrus wasn't bored as yet-
Jarrod had no illusions about the unicorn's staying
power. He would work hard until the novelty wore off,
but, after that, he was liable to disappear on an unan-
nounced holiday again. He would stay at it until they
reached Cetador, of that Jarrod was certain. He had
promised Nastrus that he could demonstrate his prow-
ess in front of the Queen, the Archmage and all the
notables. He smiled to himself. After all these years
he knew just how to appeal to the unicorn's vanity.

He himself was already at Celador, preparing for the
display. It was here in the Anmdelian capital that the
Discipline's new service to the people of Strand would
be officially unveiled. He had cleared the date with the
Chamberlain, made arrangements with Dean Handrom
for a new roster of Magicians to be trained in the art
of cooperative levitation, and now it was time to pay
his respects to the Archmage. He mounted the familiar
stairs of the Archmage's Tower with trepidation. In the
old days the feeling had been caused by fear; now it was
caused by concern.

He was fond of the old Magician. He had come to

THE UNICORN PEACE + 93

appreciate him during the tour of Strand that the two
of them had made after the defeat of the Outlanders.
The warmth that was usually concealed behind a scath-
ing volley of words had come to the fore. The Arch-
mage had seen to it that Jarrod's head had not been
turned by the adulation that had surrounded them dur-
ing that first euphoric year of peace and, in retrospect,
Jarrod was grateful. No, he wasn't afraid of Ragnor's
justly famous tongue. He was afraid that infirmity had
dulled the sharp mind. There had been no sign of it a
month ago, but, at his age, one never knew.

He followed the Duty Boy into the room and saw
that Ragnor was seated in his favorite chair by the fire-
place. Despite the warmth of the day, there was a lap
robe over his knees. A pair of spectacles was perched
on the beaky nose. A long, thin hand rose and a fore-
finger beckoned. Jarrod walked forward.

"I'd get up and hug you if I could," the reedy voice
said, "but my rheumatics are bad today."

Jarrod smiled, advanced and embraced the old man.
"How are you, sir?" he asked as he straightened up.

"The better for seeing you. Now, go and get yourself
a chair and pour us both a cup of sack. I told the mon-
ster that I was entertaining important company today
and it would look bad if I couldn't offer some decent
refreshment." He chuckled creakily. "I have problems
walking of late," he continued. "If it isn't my hips it's
my knees, but there's nothing wrong with my wits or
my digestion, the gods be thanked." He took the cup
that Jarrod was holding out and drank deeply.

"Ah, that's better. That overprotective charlatan will
kill me with her ministration&."

"She's undoubtedly thinking of your health," Jarrod
said reasonably.

"Arrant insubordination'" Ragnor snapped, and Jar-

94 + JOHN LEE

rod knew that his fears were groundless. The old man
hadn't changed.

"So," the Archmage said with a complicitous smile,
"you're here for the grand demonstration that will re-
store the luster of the Discipline, are you?" He drank
again. "I never cease to be surprised at how short the
memories of the Untalented are. It wasn't that long ago
that we pulled off the impossible, you and I, and yet
they tell me that the Discipline is in danger of being
considered irrelevant."

"Well, it was fifteen years ago," Jarrod reminded him.

"That long? It seems five years at the most to me."

"It's not that we're irrelevant," Jarrod explained,
saddened at the need to do so, "it's just that we are
taken for granted these days. People expect the seasons
to be regulated and the crop rain to fall at the ap-
pointed hour. The local Magicians who keep the mill
wheels and the looms going when the wind is low tend
to be thought of as workers rather than miracle work-
ers. It's bad for morale."

"It's also bad for our influence in international affairs,"
Ragnor said shrewdly. "I assume that's why you and Grey-
lock chose the Outland as the setting for this experiment."

Jarrod smiled. "It had crossed our minds." Had the
old man forgotten their previous conversation? They
had been over this ground on the last visit.

"Bad business this, ah, disagreement over the Out-
land." The old man sniffed and finished off his sack. He
held his cup out for a refill. "It could undo everything
we have tried to achieve in the way of relations between
governments, although I do like this idea of a Concor-
dat with Isphardel. What I don't like is the way Varo-
dias is stirring the pot."

"The Emperor?" Jarrod said as he returned to his
seat, trying not to sound relieved.

"Of course the Emperor," Ragnor said impatiently.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 95
"Things are going badly in Umbria—there's a deal of
civil unrest and the Electors are becoming increasingly
independent of the Crown. Varodias is losing control
and he's desperate for a way to reunite the country, or
at least to reassert his own authority. What better way
than to point the finger at the perfidious foreigner out
to rob the Empire of its rightful due?"

"That wasn't the impression I got from Estragoth,''
Jarrod objected, marveling anew at the extent of the
Archmage's knowledge.

"Course it wasn't. I'll wager he didn't tell you that
he was setting up an intelligence system either, but he
is. The Elector is a wily old fox and he's devoted to
Varodias." He looked up and caught the look of sur-
prise on Jarrod's face. Misinterpreting it, he added, "I
don't just sit here dreaming, son. I've spent fifty years
developing a network of informants in the Empire. Peo-
ple think of me as a doddering, old Magician." He
raised a spotted hand. "Oh, don't bother to deny it.
What they forget is that I ran this country for nigh on
twenty years and I've kept my hand in ever since."

"If Varodias is looking for an excuse to damn all
foreigners, won't the Concordat play into his hands?"
Jarrod asked.

"Certainly. But the extension of our influence east-
ward is the best thing that could happen for us. Do us
a lot more good in the long run than this rubble-clearing
effort of yours. What you don't seem to understand is
that if you give Varodias what he wants, all you're do-
ing is forcing him to pick another fight."

"Are you saying that another war is inevitable?" Jar-
rod asked, unwilling to hear Holdmaster Gwyndryth's
opinion confirmed.

Ragnor sipped on his sack and then pursed his lips
as if to consider the question. "Nooo. We could have
the bastard assassinated. He's killed off the only sons

96 + JOHN LEE

he had that showed a scrap of talent. The remaining
boy is a weakling. The ensuing struggle for the throne
would probably occupy the country for a good twenty
years. It would, at the very least, provide a breathing
space."

"But Varodias is a duly consecrated monarch," Jar-
rod said, eyes widening.

"Spare me/' Ragnor said witheringly. ''You sound
like a Maternite. You can't be that naive. Consecration,
as you call it, usually comes from blood on a sword."

Jarrod took a deep breath. "If the Concordat is rat-
ified, we become one of his prime targets."

"Of course/' the Archmage agreed, "but then we
always have been. They loathe the Isphardis, but Um-
brians think that we are unnatural. Magic violates the
rules of what they consider to be science, and the Ma-
ternite Church considers us anathema. Without the
mortar of a common enemy, conflict is bound to occur.
Songuard and Isphardel are a natural buffer between
us, and it would be the ultimate folly to allow the Em-
pire to absorb them.''

"I can't say that I care for your analysis, Archmage,
but I can't fault it," Jarrod said placatingly, wondering
as he did if Ragnor had wandered off the beam again.

"I shan't live to see it, the gods be thanked, but we
shall have to face the Empire one of these days. Perhaps
our presence in the east will delay it."

"Well, that's still up in the air," Jarrod said. "The
Oligarchs haven't agreed and the new terms of the treaty
haven't been voted on."

"Olivderval speaks for the Oligarchs," Ragnor said
decisively. "As far as the treaty is concerned, Arundel
and Talisman will follow our lead. It really doesn't mat-
ter which way Naxania decides to go, though it would
be nice if the Magical Kingdoms could present a united
front. It might be an additional deterrent."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 97

"Do I construe that as an order?" Jarrod asked with
as much lightness as he could muster.

"Oh, I think you might," Ragnor replied, matching
him, and in that instant Jarrod knew that not only was
the Archmage in control of all his faculties, but that he
was aware of Jarrod's doubts. "Now let's discuss this
demonstration," the old man continued. "I think it's
important that Greylock play the leading role. It will
enhance his reputation and he'll need that to assure his
succession. I hate to say this, but he's been too quiet
too long."

"Of course he'll play the leading role. After all, the
whole thing was his idea/' Jarrod said mendaciously.
"That's what he's here for."

"Good. Exactly how do you, ah, does he intend to
carry out the ceremony?"

Ragnor sat back and listened, sipping absently, while
^Jarrod laid out the details. When he had finished, the
Archmage pushed his spectacles higher on his nose and
said, "I'll have myself carried up to the Causeway in a
sedan chair." He grinned, showing the few remaining
teeth. "It's not as much work for them as it used to be;
still, it'll make a nice change and I'll be able to wear
something fancy." He looked over at Jarrod and his
eyes twinkled behind the circles of glass.

"I don't suppose you brought anything decent to
wear? No, I thought not. That plain blue gown has be-
come quite an affectation with you. Never mind, it'll be
quite like old times. You, me, the Gwyndryth girl and
a unicorn."

"Marianna?" Jarrod said, surprised. "Is she at Ce-
lador?".

"Yes indeed. Came to see that boy of hers. Dropped
by to pay her respects. She's grown into a deucedly
handsome woman. You should have married her when
you had the chance." He finished his wine and put the

98 + JOHN LEE

cup down. He settled himself and the head began to
droop. "Odd that she should have produced a Magi-
cian," he said, the voice soft and muffled, "but you
never know about that sort of thing. Errathuel's blood
turns up in the unlikeliest places. . . ." The voice faded
away and the chin sagged.

Jarrod got up quietly and put his chair back against
the wall. He returned his cup to the sideboard and then
went and removed the Archmage's spectacles and put
them on the table beside him. As he went back down
the stairs he was pleased with the thought that Mar-
ianna was visiting the capital. It had been five years, he
realized, since he had seen her last. Ragnor was right,
it was somehow fitting that they all be together for this
occasion. He would have to see to it that she got a good
seat.

He saw her at Hall that same night, as he had-.half
expected to. Ragnor's eye for a pretty face was still un-
dimmed. She was a beautiful woman. Slim still, though
a mite less so than the portrait that memory held. The
red-gold hair rippled past her shoulders. She wore a
dark green gown, cut square across the bust. A very
large emerald hung on a thick gold chain, emerald tear-
drops peeked out from under the hair and her waist was
girdled by a hammered-gold belt that was studded with
jewels. Jarrod was shy about wearing any of the things
that he had brought back from the Island at the Center,
but Marianna obviously had no such inhibitions. He
waved to her and she smiled back.                   ,

They were both in the withdrawing room after the
meal, where Arabella, Queen since her marriage, re-
ceived the important guests, but again they could not
talk, at least not right away. Greylock and Jarrod got
the first ten minutes of the Queen's conversation.
Though this was ritual, a ritual that she had repeated

THE UNICORN PEACE + 99
endlessly since she was thirteen, Arabella had the knack
of making people feel that she was genuinely pleased to
see them and valued the opportunity of hearing their
opinion on whatever topic she chose to bring up. As a
member of the High Council of Magic, she had no
shortage of interests in common with the two Mages.
That she also managed to make them laugh was a trib-
ute to her skill. She then passed them smoothly on to
her Consort,

Saxton Horbinger was tall for an Untalented, coming
up to Jarrod's shoulder. He was broad-chested, narrow-
waisted and had enviable calf muscles. Jarrod surmised
that it was for that reason that long, white hose had
become the fashion at Court. He was fair-haired like
his wife, had well-set hazel eyes, a straight nose flanked
by high cheekbones. The chin was firm and dimpled and
the lips were a little too large for perfection, lending the
face a sensual air. It was obvious to the people who saw
him in person, or his likeness on broadsheets, why Ar-
abella, after resisting the Council's prodding to produce
an heir and secure the succession for so long, had cho-
sen him. The people approved.

Saxton Horbinger was also Holdmaster of Thorp,
with lands adjacent to the royal estates. He had fought
in the battle against the invading Outlanders and, in the
five years he had been married to Arabella, had fa-
thered three sons. Jarrod had met him once before, at
the wedding, and had dismissed him as an amiable lum-
mox picked for his looks. He had heard since that Ar-
abella discussed matters of state with him and that he
had considerable influence with her. He made the re-
quired bow and prepared to observe. The Consort's
opening remark to Greylock surprised him.

"It is good to see you again, my Lord Mage. It has
been too long, for friendship's sake, of course, but also

100 + JOHN LEE

for you. Celador is the center of the Discipline and the
next Archmage should not be such a stranger."

"Your Royal Highness does me too much honor,"
Greylock replied, the deep voice making the intonations
of the formal mode sing. "I am but a Mage among
others and Ragnor is far from ready to go."

Prince Saxton—the title had been conferred upon him
when he married—smiled. It was an open, friendly
smile. "Were I a wagering man, I should put my money
on you," he said. "I still think that it is an excellent
thing that you have honored Celador with this demon-
stration of the Discipline's prowess." He turned to Jar-
rod. "Will you be assisting the Mage of Paladine,
Excellence?"

"Indeed, Your Royal Highness," Jarrod replied,
"though I shall be doing nothing more than coordinat-
ing the efforts of the other Magicians."

The Consort's smile grew broader, and there was a
disconcerting glint in the eyes. "Power cloaked in hu-
mility is an extremely effective combination, would you
not agree?" He addressed the remark to Greylock.

"Only the naked truth is stronger, sir," Greylock re-
sponded. Their eyes held for a beat, and then the Con-
sort turned again to Jarrod.

"We thank you for your last naming gift. Excel-
lence," he said. "Young Harrald played with it for nigh
on a month which, for a baby, even a royal baby, is a
remarkable span."

Jarrod began to mumble something, but noticed that
the Consort's eyes had slipped past him to the people
in line behind. He bowed instead and Greylock and he
moved on.

"What do you think of the Prince Consort?" he asked
once they were clear.

"I think the Queen made a remarkably shrewd

THE UNICORN PEACE t 101

choice," Greylock replied. "And now that we've done
our duty, I intend to retire. Are you going to stay?"

"I'd like to have a word with Marianna." Jarrod said.
"It's been a while since I've seen her."

"Very well, but try not to stay up too late. The dem-
onstration's only two days off and I need you to be
fresh. You heard what the Prince said. I'm going to
have to prove myself and you and I know that I can't
do it without you." Greylock's tone was soft, but ur-
gent.

"The operation's been going very smoothly for three
sennights," Jarrod said reassuringly. "They could do
the whole thing without us."

"Don't take things for granted," Greylock retorted.
"Mind me- Don't stay up talking till all hours."

"Yes, sir," Jarrod said, knowing that acquiescence
was the best strategy.

"Good night then," Greylock said and headed for the
door.

"Good night, sir," Jarrod called after him and swung
around to find Marianna.

ChAptCR U
alf a world away, Marianna's father had killing
on his mind. He was camped some ten leagues north of
Aldersgrove behind a line of hills that formed the west-
ern boundary of the broad plain that ended at the River
Arduent. His scouts had told him that the rebel forces
had provisioned themselves for a march by stripping the
town and the surrounding countryside. Their departure,
Darius thought, would probably be hastened by the an-
imosity engendered by their depredations. So much the
better. He checked the map for the umpteenth time.

They would have to take the road on the far side of
the hills. It was the only thing that made sense, and,
since they were counting on surprise themselves, they
would not be looking for an enemy this far south of
Sparsedale. If they continued to dally at Aldersgrove,
he was prepared to confront them with a small force
and draw the rebels north until the rest of his men could
fall on them, but he hoped it would not come to that.
He would inevitably lose men during the withdrawal
and he would avoid that if he could. Getting old and
sentimental, he thought as he rolled the map up.

To the best of his information, the enemy had mus-
tered about fifteen hundred troops, most of them foot
soldiers armed with pikes. The majority, according to
reports, ill-disciplined, though there was a core of well-
trained men. Probably the men missing from the Duke
of Abercorn's estate at Oxeter. There was a well-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 103

equipped unit of cavalry consisting of about two hun-
dred seasoned men with the addition of a rowdy group
of young nobles that included both Rostan and Sou"
they. It was a considerable force for these days, almost
twice his own numbers.

The toughest problem would be the Duke's men, even
though they were but a fraction of the total. If he was
any judge of character, the two young Earls would in-
sist on giving the orders, and they were more accus-
tomed to the jousting field than the battlefield. It was
also a good bet that they would be in the van during
the ride north. If the gods were with him, they would
lead a relatively small scouting party more intent on
picking a pleasant campsite than in looking for enemies
in the hills. If that was the case, he could let them pass
by. He sighed and heaved himself out of his chair. He
began to pace across the tent. At this point it was all a
matter of guesswork. There was ample water and fire-
wood in this place and plenty of grazing for the horses,
but the food would start to run short in about a sen-
night.

"With the General's permission."
The Adjutant's gruff voice broke Darius' train of
thought and stopped him in midstride.

"Enter."

The tent flap opened and the Adjutant ducked in,
followed by a short, bowlegged man with dust-streaked
clothing and face.

"Your pardon. General, but this man claims to have
ridden up from Aldersgrove. He insists that he speak
directly to you."

"Indeed? Have you searched him?"

"We have, sir. He was carrying a shortsword and a
dagger. There is nothing concealed about his person."

"Very well, you may leave us."

104 + JOHN LEE

The Adjutant saluted, spun on his heel and exited.
Darius looked the man over.

"Sit down," he said, indicating a stool. "I imagine
that you'd find talking easier after you've washed your
throat with ale."

"That I would, General, and I thankee kindly." The
man's Southern burr made his Common sound remark-
ably pleasant.

Darius filled a cup from a leather jug and handed it
to him, then got himself into a chair and watched the
ale disappear.

"Now," he said when the man was done, "what's
your name and how did you know how to find us?"

"Name's Jehan Attemill, lately in the service of the
Earl of Rostan, General sir. I received a message ten
days gone from Lord Lissen to report to you as soon
as I knew when the march on Sparsedale would start."

Darius concealed his surprise. Otorin had taken a
damnable chance. "And did Lord Lissen tell you where
to find me?" he asked quietly.

Something in his voice made the man look up. "Not
he. General. I rode north and cut into the hills at a
venture, since that's where I'd be if I was you "

Darius relaxed slightly. "Let us devoutly hope that
our enemies do not think the same," he said dryly.

"Not much of a chance of that. They all think you're
at Sparsedale."

"I'm happy to hear that. When do they intend to
start?"

"Tomorrow firstlight. They reckon to do five leagues
a day. I think they'll be lucky to do three." His opinion
of the opposition was writ clear on his face.

"So we've two days by their count, three by yours.
How far ahead will the advance party range?"

"Not going to be an advanced party, at least not yet
awhiles. Mounted will be in the van, foot in the middle

THE UNICORN PEACE + 105

and baggage train in the rear. There's plenty of ponds
and little lakes hereabouts, so picking a campsite's no
problem."

"I see. Well, I thank you Jehan Attemill. I shall prob-
ably want to talk to you again, but for now you can go
and have a wash and get something to eat."

Attemill got up stiffly and bowed his head in salute.

"Oh, one more thing," Darius said. "Won't the Earl
of Rostan miss you?"

The little man's dirty face cracked into a grin that
revealed missing teeth. "The Earl," he said contemp-
tuously, "is only interested in his honor, young girls,
wine and cards. He doesn't notice the likes of me."

"Surely someone will notice."

"The Master of Horse, like as not, since I've a good
reputation as a groom, but I reckon he'll think I've fi-
nally gone off and got soused like the rest of them. I
stole the horse from the Earl of Southey's lines, so I
doubt they'll put two and two together "

"You've done well," Darius said, nodding his appro-
bation, "and if you need employment after this is over,
I'll find a place for you in my household."

"Thankee kindly, General sir, but unless I miss my
mark, Lord Lissen will have work for me to do." He
smiled his gappy smile. "A good groom's welcome most
places and no questions asked." He did his quick little
bow again and pushed his way out through the flap.

A feeling of calmness came over Darius. The thing
was begun. In two or three days it would be decided,
one way or another. He got up and poured himself a
cup of ale. How long, he wondered, had Attemill been
working for Otorin? And for how long had he been
planted in Rostan's household? No matter; he was
grateful for the man's intelligence, but it would be fool-
ish to place too much reliance on it. He went over to
the desk and made a list of orders for the Adjutant.
106 + JOHN LEE

Metal to be muffled by rags, silence to be observed
by the men. fires doused, lookouts to be posted and
the cloudsteeds to be grounded until further orders. He
made sure that they were carried out by touring the
encampment and the sentry posts at regular intervals.
If the men grumbled, they did not do so in his hearing,
and his caution was rewarded on the morning of the
second day when a cloud of dust was spotted to the
south.

He scrambled up the slope and lay in a brake of haw-
berry bushes. He was annoyed to find that he was pant-
ing. He waited until his breathing was steady and then
deployed the spyglass that Phalastra of Estragoth had
given him back in the days when he was the Lord Ob-
server. He adjusted the eyepiece and a troop of horse
wavered into focus. Most of the riders were soberly
dressed in brown and green, but conspicuous among
them was a handful of knights in bright costume. None
were wearing armor. Menassah, his Adjutant, slithered
up beside him and Darius passed him the glass.

"What do you make of it?" he hissed as if the horse-
men might hear him.

"Couple of hundred, I reckon. Too big for a scouting
party. Can't be sure because of the dust, but it don't
look like there's troops behind them.''

Darius grunted and took the spyglass back. He re-
adjusted the eyepiece. He chuckled suddenly. "By the
gods, the stupid bastards got tired of riding at a pike-
man's pace. We have 'em, Menassah, we have 'em."

"Fall on them as they pass?" the Adjutant asked, an
anticipatory smile creasing the weathered face.

"No, we'll let them go by," Darius said with evident
satisfaction and began to wriggle backward.

Menassah followed suit until both men could stand
without being seen from the road. "I'll pass the word,"

THE UNICORN PEACE + 107

he said, slapping leaves and earth off his tunic, "but can
1 ask why?"

"You may indeed." Darius was in high good humor
"Our archers are good, but a moving target is hard to
hit, especially when there are so many of them. Those
colored popinjays down there are treating this part of
the journey as if it was a hunt picnic. By midafternoon
they'll be looking for a pleasant place to make camp
and after that the wine will come out. They're traveling
light by the looks of it, but I'll wager that they'll be
carrying wineskins. The Earls' men will do the hunting
for supper and they'll get to drinking later. The men-
at-arms will probably stay sober. They're in strange
country, so they'll keep the campfires burning, but I
doubt they'll post sentries.

"We'll stay back so that the hunters don't trip over
us, but once they're asleep they'll be easy pickings. We
don't have to catch up with them until dusk and they
won't be difficult to find. I want a bowman riding be-
hind every saddle. We'll give them an hour's start. Si-
lence is to be maintained. Understood?"

"Understood, General."

Nightfall found Darius and his men on the western
slopes two and a half leagues north of their base camp.
The archers were crouched twenty feet below the hill-
crest- Lower still, the cavalry stood beside their horses.
On the plain, campfires blazed and men settled down
to sleep. Their horses had been hobbled and turned
loose to graze. Noise drifted up from the central fire,
where a group was gathered in a circle. From time to
time, shadowy figures moved, feeding the fires. A cheer,
mingled with groans, floated up. Darius, lying on his
stomach just inside a coppice, was muttering under his
breath.

"Degenerate little buggers," Menassah heard him say,
"stop gaming and go to sleep."

108 + JOHN LEE

It took a while for the General's wish to be granted,
but, two hours later, the group by the main fire had
dispersed, relieved themselves, found a spot and slept.
Darius took a deep breath and worked his way back-
ward. Whispered orders passed and the archers moved
to the crest. They set up in groups of six with ample
space between for the horsemen to ride through. Ar-
rows were notched and loosed at the dark shapes on
the earth below. Four courses flew before the cavalry
swept through the gaps and down the slope. Resistance
was futile and escape, with the horses hobbled, impos-
sible. The slaughter was total.

By dawn, when Darius, with Menassah at his side,
picked his way through the bodies, the stream that had
been the reason for the campsite was running clear
again. Flies were already clustering on the drying pools
of blood. The archers were methodically going around
retrieving arrows. The leaders of the rebellion were easy
to spot by their long hair and fine clothes. The two
Earls were there, together with a dozen others that Da-
rius did not recognize. Each time they came across one
of them, Darius signaled for the body to be dragged off
to the side. When they had completed the grisly tour,
he turned to the Adjutant.

"Any idea which of these"—his hand indicated the
sprawled corpses—"is the leader of Duke Paramin's
men?"
"No, sir- They don't seem to be wearing any badges
of rank."

"Did that Attemill fellow ride with us by any

chance?"

Menassah gave a grim half-smile. "I insisted on it. I
don't trust the man. He's betrayed one master, he can
betray another."

"I'm going to get upwind of this stink- See if you can
find him for me."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 109

"At once. General." Menassah saluted and went off
at the double-
Darius walked carefully out of the killing ground and
sat down on a scruffy patch of grass. He didn't have
long to wait.

"Adjutant said you wanted to see me. General." The
little man was showing the strains of a sleepless night.

"Yes I do," Darius said, getting to his feet. He winced
as his hip twinged, and he walked around a little to
work off the pain.

"Know who commanded the Duke of Abercorn's
horsemen?" he asked.

"Man called Walter of Huspeth."

"Know what he looks like?"

"Saw him once or twice," Attemill allowed.

"Good. See if you can identify him."

Darius was loath to follow the man back among the
bodies, but he forced himself to it. It took about ten
minutes before Attemill shoved a body with his foot.

"This 'un."

"Excellent," Darius said. "I'm obliged to you." He
turned to Menassah, who had rejoined them. "Have this
one taken over to where the others are. Then I want
their heads cut off."

"General?" The Adjutant's voice rose in inquiry.

"Make sure the blades are sharp," Darius said dis-
passionately. "I want a neat job done. I've a use for
those heads."

"Yes, General." Menassah had recovered his profes-
sional composure. "Should we bury the bodies, sir?"
"No, I think not." Darius' voice was cold. "Ground's
baked too hard at this time of year. It would take too
long. We need to get back." He looked up at the sky.
"This area's uninhabited," he added, "and the kites are
waiting. We'll take the heads back with us. Have their
horses rounded up and see that their swords are col-

110 t JOHN LEE

lected. No sense wasting them. Report to me when we're
ready to ride."

He turned on his heel and strode off up the hill, leav-
ing the two men staring after him.

"Well if that don't beat all," Attemill said.

Once the party was back at base, the word of the
victory spread quickly. Spirits were lifted and men who
had been slouching around in boredom two days before
walked with a spring to their step. There was one grue-
some piece of work, however, that gave all who saw it
pause. The General ordered a dozen stout saplings cut
down and then firmly planted in a line across the ene-
my's route. Each sapling was crowned with a head. The
following morning the archers and some of the foot sol-
diers were mounted on the captured horses and posi-
tioned among the trees along the hilltops to await the
enemy.

By midafternoon, the van of the column was in view.
The spyglass revealed a disciplined company of pike-
men in the lead. More of the Duke of Abercorn's men,
Darius thought. The rest of the force trailed back in an
unwieldy straggle. There was no way of estimating
numbers accurately in the cloud of dust that billowed
around them. Darius lowered the glass and went to
make his final arrangements.

An hour later, the pikeman reached the line of heads
and pulled up in obvious consternation. They peered
up at the hills, but Darius' men were silent and hidden.
Those at the back of the lead company came up to see
what was amiss, and the well-controlled ranks broke
down into knots of arguing men. The rest of the column
began to catch up and the area of pandemonium spread.
The level of noise rose steadily until it was cut off by a
blast of trumpets. As the men on the plain turned to
look uphill, Darius rode out from the trees under a
green flag of truce, a group of officers around him. As

THE UNICORN PEACE + III

he moved down the slope, the horsemen came into view
behind him, forming a solid line along the hilltops.

There was no resistance. Men without leaders do not
fight for a cause that is not tneirs. A good number of
the rebels threw down their weapons and fled. The rest
surrendered. Darius took their weapons and turned
them loose. He had no stomach for further slaughter.
The captured weapons were loaded onto the baggage
train and sent north. The heads were collected again,
put in a sack and flown to Sparsedale by cloudsteed
with a letter to Otorin suggesting that they be dropped
into the manor's inner court.

A fortnight later, Darius was in sight of Castle
Sparsedale. His spyglass had already shown him that
the royal standard was flying over it so that, when a
small party of horsemen appeared riding toward him,
he spurred forward without hesitation.

"Welcome back, General," Otorin of Lissen said as
he reined in. "I understand that you are to be congrat-
ulated on yet another great victory."

"I see that Sparsedale is yours," Darius replied. "I
trust you haven't drunk all the good wine in celebra-
tion. I could do with a flagon of that rascal Elfreg's
best. Then I want a hot bath and a sennight's sleep."

Otorin smiled. "Not only have I made certain that
there is a sufficiency of more than passable Assara—I
took the precaution of sampling it to be sure—but I
have, ah, persuaded our ever-genial host to donate it as
a thank offering for the restoration of peace."

"He'll be the only one sorry to see us go," Darius
remarked as Otorin turned his horse's head and they
moved off in the direction of Upper Waltham.

"So what happened?" he asked, gesturing toward the
blank, grey walls. "Did they try a sortie?"

"No such luck. They sat tight waiting for rescue. It

112 + JOHN LEE

was the heads that did it. 1 had each of them put in
separate bags with cotton wadding so they wouldn't be
too badly damaged by the fall. After that it took them
three hours to surrender."
"Did the Semicount survive his ordeal?" Darius

asked.

"He survived"—Otorin's voice was hard—"but he
probably wishes he hadn't. They raped his wife and his
daughters and they made him watch. He had a ten-year-
old son who was treated the same way. The boy killed

himself."

A deep, angry sound issued from Darius' throat and
he rode on in silence, his face set in a tight mask. "What
ofBardolph?" he said finally.

"He's in chains in the inn's cellar awaiting your plea-
sure."

"Send him to Stronta under heavy guard with a letter
to the Queen detailing his offenses. And don't let me
see him. I don't trust myself around blackguards like
that." Darius' voice was bleak and bitter and Otorin
knew better than to say anything.

Darius kept his counsel until they were installed in
the snuggery. Elfreg's effusions of welcome were stilled
by a stone countenance and a basilisk's eye. He had
needed no prompting to serve the Assara and he did so
without words. The General tossed off the first bumper
and held it out for a refill. Elfreg obliged and withdrew.
Darius sat slumped in his chair, sipping now, rolling
the wine around his mouth before swallowing. It seemed
to restore his humor, bit by bit. Otorin waited patiently.

Darius sighed. "I'm sorry, old friend," he said, sitting
up. "I've a daughter, and a grandson not much older
than that unfortunate boy." He paused. "So, any word
from Paramin of Abercorn?"

"Not a peep."

"Does he know?"

THE UNICORN PEACE + 113

Otorin got up and refilled his cup before answering.
"I can't be certain. As far as I know, no bunglebird or
messenger left Sparsedale before or after the surrender.
I have had reports that bunglebirds arrived at Oxeter's
cote, but I have no sure knowledge of whence they
came."

"What?" Darius tried for his old, teasing jocularity.
"The cote keeper isn't your man?"

"He was," Otorin returned somberly. "The Duke
hanged him three sennights ago."

"I'm sorry," Darius said, not knowing what else to
say.

Otorin looked at him and nodded. "I rather imag-
ine," he said, "that if the Duke has had news, it has
come from Aldersgrove. The news of his colleagues' de-
feat has almost certainly reached him and he must re-
alize that his son is doomed. He committed almost all
his retainers here and with the two Earls. I don't know
what he knows, but my sources tell me that he has shut
himself away. He has not appeared at Hall of late."

"By the way," Darius said, "I must thank you for the
services ofAttemill. He gave us excellent warning."

Otorin smiled faintly. "Resourceful man."

"Has Abercorn got any more sons?" Darius asked.
"No sons, no daughters. The oldest boy died in a
hunting accident, another in a tavern brawl and the
daughter in birthing. This one's the last."

"Is there anyone to inherit?" Darius asked, looking
up.

"Indeed there is and you'll never guess who." Otorin
sounded amused.

"I haven't the slightest idea."

"Take a guess."

"I'm too tired for games, Otorin." Irritability sur-
faced.

114 + JOHN LEE

"The Assistant Mage of Paladine," Otorin said
smugly and watched Darius' eyes grow larger.

"Jarrod Courtak. Yes, I'd forgotten about that."

"The very same. He's old Paramin's nephew.''

"Well, well, well." Darius sat back, eyes hooded.
"That means that young Bardolph's headed for the ex-
ecution block for sure."

"He'll join the other heads on Strontas walls," Oto-
rin agreed. "No doubt about it."

"Can't say I'm sorry, but someone ought to persuade
Courtak to marry and have children. It would certainly
neutralize a threat to the throne."

"It must be time for your bath and bed," Otorin said
sardonically. "You're starting to think like me."

ChAptCR 12

1

^•arrod finally caught Marianna's eye and was re-
warded with a flashing smile. She excused herself from
the group of men with whom she had been chatting and
came toward him. He noticed that almost all the men
in the room watched her. As she neared, she opened her
arms, and, with a fractional hesitation, Jarrod moved
forward and hugged her. She pushed back after a long
moment, held him at arm's length and looked up into
his face.

"You've been out in the open," she said. "It's given
you some color and it suits you."

"And you get more beautiful by the year," he replied.
"Every man in the room who isn't talking to the royals
is looking at you and most of the women are trying not
to."

She grinned. "My, ah, jewels," she said, glancing
down at her cleavage, "seem to be much admired. Be-
sides, they are also watching the reunion of 'the discov-
erers of the unicorns.' " Her voice gave the phrase the
full weight of bombast, and they both laughed.

"Nobody at home bothers," Jarrod said. "Nastrus is
such a familiar figure that even he is taken for granted."

"The same's true at Gwyndryth. Oh, people get ex-
cited when Amarine comes to visit, especially if she
brings new foals with her, but the rest of it was a long
time ago and people have short memories."

"True, but for me it seems like yesterday. Well, not

116 t JOHN LEE

yesterday exactly, but certainly no more than a couple
of years ago."

Marianna linked an arm through his and they moved
to the side of the room. "I know what you mean," she
said as they moved-

"D'you miss it?'' he asked. "The action I mean, the
being part of something important."

"Not really. I don't envy your still being in the public
eye, if that's what you mean. That sort of ambition
seems to have died. Running Gwyndryth is a full-time
job. Sir Ombras is too old to do much of anything, poor
darling. He fell asleep in the middle of the Moot last
month. Still, I shan't replace him unless he asks me to.
We owe him too much to shove him aside just because
he's old."

"He was always very kind to me," Jarrod com-
mented. "And how is Lady Obray doing?"

"Dead, the gods be thanked," Marianna said bluntly.
"I never could abide that woman."

"I see," Jarrod said noncomminally. "Have you seen
the boy?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yes, that's why I'm here."

Jarrod's eyes widened at her tone of voice. "You
don't seem too happy about it."

"I'm not." She glanced around. "But 1 don't feel like
talking about it here. The Chamberlain has assigned me
one of the royal apartments upstairs. Why don't we slip
away and have a civilized drink and a chat?"

"Won't that compromise your reputation?" he asked
teasingly.

Her head tipped back and her robust laugh rang out.
"A divorced woman has no reputation at Court," she
said, "surely you know that. But perhaps your reputa-
tion . . . After all, a Mage of the Discipline, alone, at
night, with a divorced woman ..." The laugh came
again.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 117

"I'm prepared to risk the scandal," he said with mock
gravity, steering her toward the door. "How discreet are
your servants?"

"If I can't bribe them, I'm sure that you can threaten
to turn them into something interesting." She giggled.

"Now, what's the problem with young Joscelyn?"
Jarrod asked once they were installed in her sitting
room.

"He's been feeling his oats. Dean Handrom described
him as 'a menace to the institution.' " She caught the
Dean's pompous delivery perfectly.

"Strong words. What on Strand has he been doing?"

"He translated one of the magisters onto the roof of
the simples house, he used the Spell of Invisibility to
obtain the answers to a test and then sold them to his
fellow Apprentices, he gets into fights; shall I go on?"

Jarrod sat back and made a soft whistling sound.
"Stealing test results is grounds for immediate expul-
sion. I don't understand it," he said, puzzled. "He was
never like that at the Outpost. He was high-spirited, but
he never got into serious trouble. I wonder what's got
into him?"

"He isn't very communicative on the subject," Mar-
ianna said. "He's at the age where mothers aren't pop-
ular. I think that part of it is that this is the first time
that he has been on his own, so to speak. When he was
small, he was under my control. He's been at Stronta
since then, under the eyes of his grandfather, the Gen-
eral, Greylock, and his famous 'uncle,' the great Magi-
cian. I hope it's nothing more than his making up for
lost time and that he'll grow out of it, but how can one
be sure?" She leaned forward and touched his sleeve.
"I'd appreciate it if you could have a word with the
Dean."

Jarrod sighed. "I'll see what I can do," he said, "but
I was never exactly his favorite pupil."

118 + JOHN LEE

"Yes, weli you're a Mage now," she replied. She
stopped and took a small sip of her cordial. "D'you like
Joscelyn?" she asked unexpectedly.

"Like him?"

"Yes; as a person."

"Well, I'm fond of him, of course, but I've always
thought of him as a little boy. He's a disarming little
rogue with a knack of appearing good as gold."

"Not so little," Marianna countered. "He'll be as tall
as you are in a couple of years. He already reminds me
of you when we first met. Not quite so awkward, of
course.''

"Oh, that's simply because he's young, tall and hand-
some," Jarrod said, trying to bring some humor to the
conversation.

Marianna gave him an obligatory smile and looked
at him speculatively. "Have you ever thought of having
children?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Once in a while, but there's the little
question of a wife first."

She pursed her lips. "Not necessarily," she said.

She was looking directly at him, and the conversa-
tion, combined with that look, was making him feel ner-
vous.

"All in good time," he said as lightly as he could.

"All very well for you, you're a man," she replied,
"but I don't have that luxury. If I want another child,
and I do, I only have a couple of years left."

This was not the kind of talk that Jarrod was used
to. "And do you have a prospective father picked out?"
he asked uneasily. As he said-it, the suspicion hit him.
He knew that his hands had clenched. He swallowed
and tried for an appropriate smile.

"Oh yes." Her answering smiled looked feline to him.

"Surely you're not suggesting . . ." Jarrod began.

The smile broadened. "Modest as ever," Marianna

THE UNICORN PEACE + 119

said, and took another sip of her cordial. "Sure you
won't have one?"

"No thank you."

"You're right, of course," she said, and a fluttering
feeling started inside Jarrod. "I need another child to
safeguard the succession to the Holding. Joscelyn has a
strong gift, one doesn't need to be Talented to see that.
I very much doubt that he'll be interested in running
the estate. He may never marry—so few of you seem
to—and there's no guarantee that he won't die before
his time. I can't risk having the line die out."

"But why marry me?" he asked, his voice sounding
scratchy in his ears.

"Oh, I wouldn't marry you, my dear," Marianna said
sweetly. "I wouldn't ask you to change your life. No
one has to know that you're the father."

Jarrod pushed himself back in the chair. "You've
done some crazy things in your time," he said, "but this
is the strangest proposition you've ever come up with.
Not that I'm not nattered," he added quickly.

She laughed. It was genuine and the tension fell away.
"So you bloody well should be. Time was when I had
to beat you off with a stick."

"I had a young boy's crush on you," he corrected
good-naturedly.

"Ha!"

"I think I'll take that drink after all," Jarrod said,
getting to his feet. He felt more in control standing. The
fluttering feeling had subsided, but he wasn't entirely
back to normal. He poured himself some wine and went
and leaned on the mantelpiece. Marianna swiveled to
face him.

"I am, as I said, enormously flattered, but if Joscelyn
has turned out to be Talented, despite the fact that nei-
ther you, nor your former husband are, surely a child

120 + JOHN LEE

fathered by me would have an even greater chance of
being Talented."

The feline smile returned. "Exactly the same chance."
she said, "and I'm prepared to take that risk."

"Why not find some beautiful, young aristocrat and
seduce him?" Jarrod asked. "You can have almost any
man you want, you know you can."

"That's true." Marianna looked pleased with herself.
"And I have given the matter a great deal of thought,
but you see, I like my son." She emphasized the like.
"I think he's bright, he's considerate, he's got a quick
sense of humor, he's not afraid of hard work and he's
going to be very handsome. I would be perfectly happy
with another son or daughter just like him." She took
another sip and watched him over the rim of her glass.
Jarrod mulled over what she had said. trying to find
the thread of logic that linked it to him. A thought
intruded, a memory of the Island at the Center. His
mouth opened and he stared at her. "You didn't," he
said accusingly.

"Oh but I did. Joscelyn is the proof."

"With my double? You wouldn't. I don't believe
you." He pushed himself away from the mantelpiece
and began to pace.

"You must have noticed the resemblance," she said
reasonably.

"I certainly have not." he retorted. He was upset. His
insides were churning and he wasn't entirely sure why.
Jealousy? Disappointment? A streak of prudery he
hadn't known he possessed?

"I must say that surprises me," she said as if she were
having a perfectly ordinary discussion. "Even my father
has made some halfhearted attempts to comment on the
matter."

"And what did you tell him9"

She smiled, seemingly relaxed. "Oh, that was simple.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 121

I said that it was only because Joscelyn was tall and,
because you were his idol, he tried to walk like you,
copy the way you use your hands. Daddy was only too
happy to believe me."

Jarrod stopped pacing and went and sat down op-
posite her. He took a deep breath. "You're right, of
course, now that I come to think about it. He's got your
hair, but his eyes are blue. It never occurred to me."
He looked across at her. "After all, I knew I wasn't the
father."

He took a drink of wine. "Tell me," he said when he
was sure that his voice wouldn't betray him, "when did
this momentous event occur?"

"After you left the Island at the Center. You remem-
ber that I stayed behind to help your double adjust to
getting all your memories. Well, it was a lot more work
than I thought it would be." She smiled at him mis-
chievously. "I know a great deal about you, Jarrod
Courtak."

He didn't smile back at her.

"I had to put it all in context for him," she contin-
ued. "We have so many assumptions about the world
^    around us that don't register as specific memories. Any-
^    way, I had to spend a lot of time with him and, to make
a long tale short, he fell in love."

"And one thing led to another," Jarrod concluded.
He was calm again. Now that it was out in the open,
the palpitations had stopped. He was a trifle disturbed
to find that curiosity was the strongest component of
what he was feeling.

"You make it sound so mundane," she said. "He
couldn't help himself. I was the only girl he was ever
going to meet and he was predisposed to it by your
,   earlier, ah, infatuation." She cocked her head and
^   pushed her hair back. "Besides, it was the only chance
he'd ever get to have sex. Now, how could I deny him?"

122 + JOHN LEE

Her eyes were wide and she conveyed an air of innocent
seriousness.

Jarrod laughed. "You're impossible," he said. "I sup-
pose you'll be telling me that the whole thing was a
noble sacrifice on your part."

She grinned at him. "Very astute."

"What did you call him?"

"Jarrod. It was what he thought of himself as being."

"I see, and did your husband know about this when
he married you?"

"Oh yes. Ruppy Trellawn and I have been friends for
years—played together as children. The whole thing was
arranged in advance, including the divorce. It suited
both our purposes."

"Well, I can see what you got out of it," Jarrod said.
"You got a legitimate heir for Gwyndryth, but I'm not
sure that I see what he gained."

"He gained an impeccable reputation and the free-
dom not to have to marry again." She smiled at his
bafflement. "Ruppy, you see," she explained, "prefers
men, he always has. The local gentry are not so much
straitlaced as they are insistent on decorum as they see
it. By marrying me, he not only had a wife, but he could
prove his manhood by appearing to have fathered a
child. It's the appearance that counts in our part of the
world. I agreed to be the one who asked for the divorce
so that people could accept the notion that he was still
in love with me and was therefore not interested in other
women."

"And the divorce didn't hurt your reputation?"

The smile was rueful. "The Gwyndryths have been
the chief family in the Marches for generations. We are
permitted our eccentricities."
"Surely you must have had other offers of marriage?"
Jarrod asked.

"Oh indeed," Marianna said with a sigh. "Gwyn-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 123

dryth is a very tempting fief and Daddy's influence at
the Paladinian Court doesn't hurt." She looked wistful
for a moment. "A couple of my suitors were very hand-
some and I was tempted, especially after I realized that
Joscelyn was Talented." She spread her hands as if to
soften the explanation. "The deciding factor was that
I'd be damned if I'd let anybody take control of Gwyn-
dryth away from me."

Jarrod crossed his legs and sipped. He was at ease
again. "And this second baby," he said, "would your
upright gentry accept that as an eccentricity?"

"Well, I suppose that I could ask Ruppy to marry
me again, but that would mean that I would have to
put up with him for the rest of my life and I don't think
I'm up to that. I mean, he's a dear and he makes me
laugh, but a fortnight's about alt I can take." The rueful
smile was back. "The truth of the matter is that I'm set
in my ways. At this point in my life, I really don't think
I could abide having a man underfoot all the time—and
having to be pleasant to his hunting cronies who have
about as much regard for the family furniture as, as ..."
Words failed her.

Jarrod smiled to himself. Even that short year
couldn't have been easy for the hapless Sir Ruppy Trel-
lawn.

"Just suppose," he said, "purely hypothetically, that
you could find a husband whose business took him away
a great deal of the time and who would be happy to
give you free rein at Gwyndryth, would you still want
me to father your child?"

"Do you have someone in mind?'* she inquired, "or
are you just fishing for compliments?"

"I seldom get compliments from women," he said,
lips curving.

"Does that mean that you would consider it?" she
said banteringly.

124 + JOHN LEE

Would he? Well, the   whole thing was rather intrigu-
ing, and though her   beauty was different than it had
been at twenty, she   was a very desirable woman. "Com-
pliments first," he   teased.

"Oh, all right," she said. "I just hope Joscelyn hasn't
inherited your vanity. Yes, I'd still like you to be the
father. As I said, I like my son."

"If we had a daughter, it would be a shame if she
took after me." He chuckled.

"So you are thinking about it."

"It has a certain perverse appeal," Jarrod said, still
not willing to be entirely serious.

"In that case," Marianna said, raising to her feet in
a single, fluid motion, "I think we should adjourn to
the bedchamber and discuss it." She smiled at him
wickedly. "I'm supposed to be leaving in three days."

She held out her hand. Jarrod put down his glass and
got to his feet with considerably less grace. He took her
hand.

They started gently, tentatively, exploring one anoth-
er's bodies. They became more sure and more sponta-
neous and, to Jarrod, it began to feel like the most
natural thing in the world. He had wanted to make love
to her for a very long time. Passion mounted as they
joined and, when it was over, they lay together, breath-
ing and pulse returning slowly to normal. He bent his
head and kissed her hair.

"Three days, did you say? I think it would be best to
make absolutely sure, don't you?"

She turned and punched him lightly on the arm- "An-
imal," she said. "You men are all the same." She gig-
gled softly. "Under the circumstances, that's more true
than ever."

"Absolutely the same?" he asked, knowing that she
would understand what he meant.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 125

"Uhm." She seemed to be considering the matter.
"There are only two significant differences,"

"Really?"

She tipped her head back and looked up at him, eyes
bright with mischief. She waited. Then, "The other Jar-
rod doesn't have scars on his back, and . .."

"And," he prompted.

"He was a virgin and you most certainly are not."

He gave her a little shake and she chuckled softly.

"Contrary to popular opinion," she said drowsily, "it
has been a long time since there was a man in my bed."
She yawned and then there was silence.

ChAptCR 13

W,

hile Celador was preparing for a Magical dis-
play, Angom, capital of the Umbrian Empire, was also
caught up in excitement. First there had been the trial
of Simian the Hermit, then the rumor of a massacre in
Baldania and now an official visit by the Mother Su-
preme. The Holy Church of the Mother was the official
religion of the State and the head of the Church was,
technically, the Emperor's equal. Amulpha, the Mother
Supreme, came as visiting royalty, but the truth was that
she had been summoned by Varodias. The formalities
were maintained, by the fact was otherwise.

The two met in the Private Stateroom. They sat op-
posite one another in ornate bezelwood chairs and pre-
sented a study in contrasts. The Emperor was thin, the
face made longer by a receding hairline and a sharply
pointed beard. He was elegantly but soberly dressed.
The Mother Supreme was tall, stout and florid, her face
made rounder by her wimple. She was dressed volumi-
nously in gold. Tradition, hallowed by five hundred
years of practice, decreed that, in the presence of the
Mother Supreme, the Emperor should come down from
the throne. This Emperor preferred to avoid that; hence
the choice of the Private Stateroom. Though the two
chairs appeared to be identical, detailmongers would
have found significance in the fact that the legs of Var-
odias' chair were six inches taller than those of the chair
to which the Mother Supreme had been assigned,

THE UNICORN PEACE t 127

"We bid you welcome," Varodias said when the small
flock of courtiers and attendants had been dismissed.
The Emperor, as was his habit, used the Formal Mode
even though they were aione-

"I am most pleased to visit the Chief Upholder of the
Great Mother," she replied with equal ceremony, and
accompanied the words with a totally artificial smile
that had no echo in the small, grey eyes.

Varodias' lips arranged themselves into a profes-
sional curve. "Let us dispense with the pleasantries," he
said, the high voice chilly but flexible. "You are here to
discuss the disgraceful outcome at the cathedral. Two
hundred and forty people killed and twice that number
wounded. The news is spreading to every corner of the
Empire and talk of revolution follows it. How could
you have been so stupid?" The white-gloved hand that
had been illustrating his words formed into a fist and
pounded down onto the armrest.

"If Your Imperial Majesty will permit," Arnulpha
said imperturbably. She adjusted the cloth-of-gold robe
to emphasize the belly.

I remember when she needed padding to suggest
pregnancy, Varodias thought. Too many years of good
living. He tried to estimate the Mother's age. She had
been elected thirty years ago so she must be at least
sixty, but it was difficult to tell. The hair was covered
as was the throat and the lines in her face had been
erased by her gain in weight.

"The figures you quoted are exaggerated. A hundred
and thirty-two people died and about a hundred had
their wounds tended by the Sisters. That is still regret-
table, but a mob was prepared to commit sacrilege
against one of our holy places and that I could not
allow."

"It was, of course, the merest accident that you had

128 + JOHN LEE

four hundred armed retainers on call," Varodias said,
the sarcasm evident.

Amulpha Hashed her non-smile again. "I am sure that
my intelligence is no match for that of Your Imperial
Majesty, but I did get sufficient warning."

"And you chose to hire mercenaries rather than ap-
peal to us for assistance."

The Mother Supreme drew back her head and cocked
it slightly to the left. The eyes, unwavering, weighed the
Emperor. The lips moved slightly, suggesting that she
had made up her mind about something. She leaned
forward.

"We could, of course, have come to you, but I doubt
that you would have reacted fast enough. Besides, there
is a considerable body of opinion within the Church
that blames you for the whole thing."

Varodias pushed himself back in his chair as if to
gain height and distance. "Have a care, madam," he
said.

"Well," she said, unabashed, "if you had condemned
that infernal Simian instead of letting him go, people
would not have taken it into their heads that Church
property can be attacked with impunity. At least now
they will think twice before they try it again. Besides,"
she added in a more moderate tone, "it would have
been very poor politics."

"Pray tell us more," The words were spaced, the high
voice skeptical.

Amuipha shrugged, and the quivers seemed to course
down her body, "The Church and the Emperor are al-
lied in the minds of the people. How would it have
seemed if Imperial troops had dispersed the rabble and
caused the casualties? You should be grateful that you
can disown the action."

"Oh, sweet, very sweet," Varodias said, hands hov-
ering at midchest. "All done for our good." The tone

THE UNICORN PEACE + 129

was almost caressing. He sat straight and the right fore-
finger jabbed out. "You did not ask us for our assis-
tance because you wished to establish an independence
of us. That is the truth. Well, know this, woman, de-
spite the fact that the Church and the Crown are inter-
twined in the popular mind, we do not countenance the
slaughter of our subjects." The finger was jabbing again.

The Mother Supreme drew in her breath. "Your Im-
perial Majesty is in a great deal more trouble than the
Church," she said evenly. "The mob, apprentices and
journeymen for the most part, were inspired by the Her-
mit, but they were not really interested in the Church;

the Church was simply thought to be an easy target.
You are the one this Simian is aiming at. He is a fanatic
and, like most fanatics, he believes what he preaches.
He would not be as effective as he is if he did not.

"It is true that, in the beginning, he took on the Holy
Mother Church, but he no longer inveighs against us.
He has money behind him now, and where do you sup-
pose that money comes from? My opponents?" Her
hands splayed out and her eyebrows rose. "Scarcely.
The majority of the population is devoted to the Great
Mother. That is not a tenet of belief. That is a fact. No,
my friend. Simian is a stalking horse for those who
would supplant you. They begin by making it seem as
if you cannot govern the Empire." She sat back slightly,
weighing the effect of her speech. Varodias was a vol-
atile and dangerous man who did not take kindly to
criticism. Her aggressive performance was a deliberate
gamble, and she was not at all sure that she was win-
ning.

"It would be simple enough," the Emperor said
lightly, "for us publicly to condemn the Church for the
massacre and thus allow the people's anger to focus on
you."

Amulpha allowed herself an audible and derisory puff

130 + JOHN LEE

of breath. "If you were going to do that, Majesty, you
would have done it right away. It is too late now. Be-
sides"—the smile was genuinely amused this time—"you
made the mistake of receiving me in state, I am sure
that the word has already gone out."

Varodias tipped back his head and appeared to study
the ceiling. "You have been grossly deficient in your
judgment, both in your actions and in your opinion of
us." The voice floated out. People who did not know
him, and almost no one did, would have assumed that
the Emperor was in an amiable mood. The neatly ta-
pered beard descended slowly until he was looking di-
rectly at the Mother Supreme. His hands were still.
"While it is true that the Crown and the Church are
supposedly inseparable, the same is not true of Emper-
ors and individual Mothers Supreme." He smiled, but
there was nothing amiable about it. "My condemnation
would be of the misguided priestess, not of the organi-
zation, and it is by no means too late for that."

"Is Your Imperial Majesty trying to threaten me?"
Amulpha asked, striving to match his lightness-

Varodias' smile returned. "My Wisewoman tells me
that obesity can put too great a strain upon the vital
organs. Then again, a glutton may choke on a sweet-
meat."

The laugh started low in the Mother Supreme and
rose until she threw back her head and gave it free rein.
It was a totally spontaneous release of tension and it
disconcerted the Emperor. She wheezed; she wiped her
eyes. The intrigues of men were so crude when com-
pared to the machinations of women, she thought, and
she had ruled more than two thousand women for lon-
ger than she cared to admit.

"Nicely done. Majesty," she said, controlling her-
self, "but I am not so easily replaced. The hierarchy
is loyal to me and to my way of thinking. No compla-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 131

cent vessel of your choosing would be elected and the
next Mother Supreme might well be even less to your
liking."

She paused and looked at him levelly and, despite
the disparity in the height of the chairs, it was an ex-
change between equals. It was Varodias who looked
away first.

"What do you suggest?" he asked,

"Oooh"—it was a drawn out and soothing sound—
"an alliance of necessity at the very least. There are
forces abroad that need to be dealt with."

"Agreed, but how?" He stopped himself and held up
a hand to stave off a reply. He tucked his lower lip
between his teeth and bit down gently.

The gesture heartened the Mother Supreme. She had
taken an enormous risk and the rapid beating of her
pulse told her so. That the Emperor was showing signs
of indecision was a relief. The worst was behind her,
though she would have to play him carefully from here
on in,

"There are a number of factors that would have to
be brought to bear," she said cautiously, "most of them
political."

Varodias nodded, reviewing the possibilities in his
mind. He was aware of the general unrest in the realm,
but none of his spies had reported a concentrated effort
to get him off the throne. The Mother's argument did
make some sense, however, and it was always best to
anticipate trouble and strike first. His eyes darted to-
ward her. He did not like this woman. She showed too
little respect, for one thing, but she was intelligent and
as much of a survivor as he was. He knew that, behind
his back, people said that he ruled by personal whim.
The fools did not realize that behind each seeming whim
there was a calculated vigilance. When it came down to
it, his fortunes and those of the Church were linked.

132 + JOHN LEE

"We do not think," he said graciously, "that the Em-
peror and the Holy Church should be quarreling.
Rather, we should be searching our minds and our
hearts for the solution to the present dissatisfaction
among the people, who are your congregants and our
subjects." The head inclined slightly and then rose im-
mediately.

The Mother Supreme exhaled gently and inclined
her head in turn. It would not do to let him see how
close to rattling her he had come. "I do agree. Your
Imperial Majesty," she said. "There is, of course, one
obvious way to distract the public mind, to deflect the
energy into a more profitable channel, and that is to
open the Outland." She gave a little shrug that stayed
at the level of the shoulders. "As I said, a political
decision."

"Would that it were that simple," Varodias replied,
sadness in the cadence. "We have been trying to do that
for years, but we have been thwarted by the Magical
Kingdoms and by Isphardel. We promised our valiant
soldiers at the close of the dreadful war that their loyal
service would be rewarded by a grant of land in the
captured territories"—his fingers began drumming on
the arms of the chair—"and we have been prevented
from keeping our sacred word."

Mostly because the land wasn't fit for settlement be-
fore now, Amulpha thought, but she kept it to herself.
"Infidels will never do anything to help us," she said.
"They lack the moral framework from which the
knowledge of right and wrong flows." She smiled and
her hands made motions that suggested hesitation.
"There are a couple of things that Your Imperial Maj-
esty might, consider...."
Varodias' hands were calm again. "Would you care
to elaborate?" he said smoothly.

"An ordinance against retainers, perhaps? If coupled

THE UNICORN PEACE + 133

with an oner of land beyond the Causeways, it might
make Electoral service less inviting. After all, if the
Crown allotted tracts in the area directly fronting our
current northern border, who could gainsay it? In your
wisdom, you have waited this long to ensure that the
perils of mutation are past. That is to be commended.
The Church would, naturally, encourage settlement
from the pulpit."

She paused and, hearing no denial, gathered herself
to propound the plan she had long nurtured.

"The Church would, of course," she said as if it were
a foregone conclusion, "expect to have a presence in
the new territory. The people would need something to
anchor them to the old life, some sense of belonging to
the Empire even though they were forging new bound-
aries; a sense of kinship and continuity." She smiled
openly at him. "It goes without saying that Imperial
grants in perpetuity would preempt a broad range of
problems."

Varodias laughed. It was an unnerving sound. "You
are apiece of work," he said, not without appreciation,
the gloved hands fountaining upward. "You wilt preach
and we shall donate land to you." His head wagged
from side to side. "Most droll; highly amusing."

The affectation of mirth died as quickly as it had been
kindled. The eyes became slitted,

"No more independent defense force," he said.
"From hence forth Imperial forces will be deployed to
protect centers of worship," The professional smile ap-
peared again. "You will of course implore us to do so.
You will instruct your priestesses to preach the virtues
of stability and to impress upon their congregations the
evils of internal dissension. Emphasize the advantages
of a strong, united state. Tell the people that our pros-
perity is being threatened by foreigners- The Isphardis
bleed us, the Magical Kingdoms thwart us by holding

134 + JOHN LEE

up the division of the Outland." He was kindled anew
and his dark eyes shone.

"To assert our own just sovereignty and prosperity,
we must be united, regional differences must be sub-
sumed. The Imperium is all. The nation will succeed.
The Empire will triumph!" He stopped, mouth open as
if surprised at what had come out of it.
The man's mad, Arnulpha thought, but Imperial pro-
tection is a sight cheaper than hiring men-at-arms and
the rest of his ideas can fit nicely with what I want for
the Church. Gently, now, gently.

"I am sure that the Church can play a vital role in
Your Imperial Majesty's plans," she said placidly,
"plans with which I entirely concur. I shall issue a plea
for Imperial protection against the barbarians who
threaten us before I leave the capital, and I can assure
you that you will not be disappointed at the voices that
will issue from our pulpits. We shall stress the need to
spread the Imperium to the Outlands and, of course,
the necessity of the the presence of the Great Mother
on this new Imperial frontier."

She gripped the arms of her chair and heaved trerself
to her feet.

"And now, with Your Imperial Majesty's permission,
I beg leave to retire. Your Majesty has given me much
to think on."

Varodias rose easily from his seat. "When you have
finished thinking, make sure that we are of a mind,
madam," he said, returning to his cool and menacing
mode. He made a small inclination of the head in her
direction.

"I shall mention Your Imperial Majesty in my pray-
ers," the Mother Supreme said enigmatically. She gath-
ered up the front of her robe and swept to the doors.
Her grand exit was hampered somewhat by the neces-
sity of opening them for herself.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 135

Varodias watched the departing expanse of gold with
mixed emotions. The woman hadn't reacted at all in the
way that he had expected. She did not appear in the
least to have been intimidated. He thought, however,
that he had got what he wanted out of her, but he wasn't
certain and that irritated him. The woman was a trial,
but, for the moment, he needed her. He looked forward
to the time when he would not-

chaipten 14

ie Outpost was still sweltering as Jarrod prepared
for a meeting of the reconvened Commission for the
Outland. The breezes that the Weatherwards had pro-
vided afforded very little relief, a mere passing of warm
air over hot ground. A day like this, he thought, might
cause Olivderval to reconsider her offer. Still, despite
the heat, it was good to be home again after so many
sennights away. Except for the dreams. Since his return
he had dreamed of the castle in the mountains almost
every night. He had never been able to reach it, but the
building itself was clearly visible and, while unreach-
able, at least stayed put. Something in him itched to
make the dream real. He had, he realized, been working
toward that end. Nastrus had been directed to send the
stones from the Giants' Causeway to the foot of the
mountains. The ostensible reason had been to get them
out of the way of potential settlers, but, in retrospect,
it was obvious to Jarrod that there had been another
agenda behind that. In all truth, the would-be settlers
could have done with some building materials on a
woodless plain. Somehow, and he couldn't explain why,
this seemed more important.

On a happier note, he had to admit that the demon-
stration had been a roaring success. The Queen, the
Prince Consort and the Court had been seated on the
Upper Causeway. A number of Arabella's major vassals
had returned to Court from their estates, and they had

THE UNICORN PEACE + 137

brought their families. Ragnor had made a notable en-
trance, resplendent in omate robe and biretta of office,
carried up in a gilded sedan chair. There had been a
festive, almost jubilant, air about the occasion. It was
as if this were a return to the distant days of high pur-
pose and great deeds.

Greylock, in the full regalia of the Mage of Paladine,
diamond tiara blazing in the sun, stood on a special
platform by the parapet. Nastrus, groomed to within an
inch of his life, stood behind him. The unicorn's mane
and tail gleamed with threads of gold, and his silver
hooves shone. The mother-of-pearl spiral of his horn
seemed to genrate a glow of its own, holding the sun-
light at bay. The Mage had explained to the gathering
what was going to occur and then turned slowly to face
the Alien Plain. A silence descended, broken only by
the wailing of a small child. Greylock raised his arms
and began to intone a levitation spell.

As if summoned by his words, four cloudsteeds rose
above the Causeway with a net dangling below them.
Jarrod, standing inconspicuously to the side, began to
provide power to match the chant. He was careful;

enough to help the Magicians on the ground below
without making them feel unnecessary. Blocks of stone
rose and deposited themselves, one by one, in the net.
The cloudsteeds beat their way higher, so that the view-
ers on the Causeway had to crane their necks to see,
and then hovered, the net swinging gently.

Nastrus, ever the showman, tossed his head so that
the mane flew dramatically, and, behold, the stones were
gone. The crowd gasped. The cloudsteeds dropped back
out of sight. There was applause and cheers rang out.
The proceedure was repeated, but this time, just as Jar-
rod was about to join in, be noticed that the runes on
Greylock's gown had begun to move. The hairs on the
back of his neck began to prickle. The Mage was using
138 t JOHN LEE

his own power. Jarrod opened himself and, with infinite
caution, fed a small amount of supporting energy to
Greylock. The cloudsteeds appeared again and the
heavy chunks of stone disappeared again. The third time
Greylock had no need of Jarrod, and the younger man
had a lump in his throat and felt the tears prick at his
eyelids. His mentor was in total control once more.

The demonstration lasted about half of an hour and
was followed by a lavish reception. The Magicians, Jar-
rod included, were made much of. The wine flowed and
the whole thing had the feeling of a victory celebration.
At one point Jarrod found himself face-to-face with
Dean Handrom.

"Excellent show," the Dean said. The man was ob-
viously in good humor and Jarrod resolved to ask him
about Joscelyn.

"Your fellows performed wonderfully well," he said.
"Indeed, they have been exemplary throughout this
project. They are a credit to the Collegium and the Col-
legium has, as always, been a credit to the Discipline."
He wondered, briefly, if he hadn't laid it on a little to
thickly, but the Dean's satisfied smile had reassured him.

"While we have a minute," Jarrod said, "I under-
stand that you are having a discipline problem with
young Joscelyn of Gwyndryth. Since I was involved in
his early training, I feel partially responsible."

"Yes, I can see that you would." Good humor or no,
Handrom was incapable of keeping an ironic inflection
out of the statement.

"His mother seems to think that he is in danger of
being kicked out of the Collegium."

"That's what I intended for her to think," the Dean
replied.

"And is he?"

"Not if I can help it. He's got too much potential and
it's badly in need of molding and direction. You man-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 139

aged to get out without completing the course and you
have attained high rank." There was no mistaking the
disapproval. "That is extremely bad for the Collegium's
morale and reputation. I have no intention of allowing
it to become a trend."

"So I can tell Lady Gwyndryth that she has nothing
to worry about," Jarrod said mildly.

"You will do no such thing," the Dean said sternly,
the authoritarian Jone of the schoolmaster surfacing.
"The boy is headstrong, stubborn and disrespectful. One
hopes that he will grow out of it, but he will need a
firm hand, both here and at home.'* He paused. "I un-
derstand that there is no father in residence. All the
more reason for that woman to exert her parental au-
thority and help to instill some sense of obligation, dis-
cipline and manners in the boy. He has obviously been
overindulged and that has to stop. You will oblige me
by saying nothing to the mother."

Jarrod had his doubts, but he simply nodded and
turned the conversation to the future supply of Magi-
cians for the Causeway project.

When he saw Marianna after Hall, he told her that
the Collegium hadn't given up on Joscelyn, but consid-
ered that he needed firm handling when he was home
for the holidays.

"He obviously takes after your side of the family,"
she had retorted.

"Headstrong, stubborn and disrespectful were the
words that Handrom used," Jarrod had countered.
"Sounds just like his mother to me."

He had been joking, but things seemed to go downhill
from there. He had expected to spend his last night with
her, but Marianna had begged off, saying that she was
leaving first thing in the morning and needed to get as
much rest as possible.

140 + JOHN LEE

"You'll let me know if..." he had said, not quite
wanting to put it into words.

•TU write to you when I'm sure," she'd said coolly.
"Oh, and thank you."

She had smiled at him and pressed his hand briefly.
Then she had turned away and left him. Jarrod was not
comfortable with the memory. Part of him had wanted
to go after her and part of him was oddly relieved. There
was also an element of anger. She had got what she
wanted, as usual, and now she would ignore him until
he became useful once more. He was still confused by
the encounter. He had no right to feel cheated, espe-
cially since he didn't know what he wanted.

He had tried to analyze his feelings toward both Mar-
ianna and Joscelyn, now that he knew who the real
father was. His feelings for Joscelyn were easier. He had
always been fond of the boy and he still was. It was a
good thing, though, that the youngster had moved on
to the Collegium. Adolescence was traditionally the time
of rebellion against authority and he was relieved, cow-
ardly though that might be, that Joscelyn would have
another target for those roiling feelings.
Real paternity, on the other hand, was something else
again and he was a sea of contradiction on that subject.
He tried to dispel the crowding thoughts. Time enough
to sort them out when and if Marianna became preg-
nant. Now was not the time to be distracted by this
anyway, he told himself. The all-important vote was
scheduled for the morrow and that would change the
future in a way that no single child could do.

Ragnor had assured him that Otorin of Lissen would
side with the Isphardis and that pressure would be ap-
plied to Queen Naxania to do likewise. The precise na-
ture of that pressure was left deliberately vague. The
Songeans had no love for the Empire, the eastern clans
especially. Generations of their young men had been

THE UNICORN PEACE + 141

taken off to work in the Umbrian mines. If Ragnor was
right, and there was no reason to think that he would
not be, the Empire's proposal would be voted down.
What bothered Jarrod was the Archmage's other pre-
dictions. Would it really mean war? If so, there ought
to be some way to avoid it.

He got up and went around the room blowing out
the lamps and snuffing the candles. Life had become
extraordinarily complicated in the last month. He
started to think about Marianna and the baby again.
When it came right down to it, he hoped that there
would be a baby.

Malum of Quern was at his place at the scribes' table
again. The sandbox, inkhorn and quills were all neatly
arranged. He felt the tinglings of anticipation. Today
would be the day. The Isphardis would be put in their
place, the partition would be ratified and a treaty drawn
up. The Elector had spent an hour with Queen Naxania
and had met with Lord Lissen. He had seemed happy
with the outcome. The Songeans knew where their in-
terests lay. Since it was a question of siding with one of
two neighbors, who in their right minds would pick
shiftless merchants over the power and tradition of Um-
bria? It really didn't matter how Talisman and the Dis-
cipline voted. It would be more satisfying if ratification
was unanimous, but the final tally was what counted.

The Isphardis would be humbled and that was the
necessary first step. With the Oligarchs discredited, and
with no army or fortified places, the absorption of Son-
guard should be easy. The Imperial garrison in Fort
Bandor, coupled with the conquest of Isphardel, would
give them de facto control of Songuard, and the Em-
pire's effective sway would be extended to the Goro-
dontiou Mountains. He smiled to himself. Perhaps they

142 + JOHN LEE

couid change the name to something that fit more easily
on an Umbrian tongue.

In any case, with the treaty signed, they would be
returning to Angorn to bask in the Emperor's appro-
bation. Not before time, either. His recent visit to the
capital had shown him how little influence he had there.
The Elector was old and his son the Margrave had no
taste for Court life. He would need some time to build
a power base or find himself a new patron. A triumph
at Stronta would be a good beginning and a broad
knowledge of foreign conditions ought to be an advan-
tage. His contemplations of the future were interrupted
by a noise. He glanced up and saw Borr Sarad coming
through the door. Looking, thought Malum, fit and vi-
tal after the recess.

"Give you good morrow, my lord," Sarad said pleas-
antly.

"May the best of the day be before us. Thane,"
Malum replied. "If this day's session goes well, our little
contest may be at an end."

"Leave us hope that the gods are listening to your
words. I enjoy these visits to Stronta, of course, but this
has been going on for far too long and I would as lief
be at home on my farm watching my sons work while
I take my ease."

Matum smiled at him. "Will Talisman allow you to
retire?" he asked.

"Hah." It was a derisive snort. "They turned me out
of ofiice after twenty years. I only accepted this post
because I wanted to travel and I thought that it would
last no more than a couple of years."

"And how will your sons take to having their father
watching them every day?" Malum said slyly.

Sarad cocked his head and gave the Umbrian a beady
look. "Good question, young man. I can still swing a
scythe when the haymow is due and they'll be grateful

THE UNICORN PEACE + 143

for that, but they and their wives have always treated
me as a honored guest on those rare occasions when I
have been able to take time away from Fortress Talis-
man." He paused and a slow smile raised the wrinkles
round his eyes. "On the other hand," he said, "they
always knew that I would be leaving before too long. I
shall have to remember that both my sons are grown
men and as set in their ways as I am in mine." The
smiie broadened. "Still, there are the little ones. I am
about to become a great-great-grandfather and, if noth-
ing else, I can be useful watching bairns until I become
one again."

"Fortunate bairns," Malum said. "I never knew my
grandparents."

Their colloquy was brought to an end by the ap-
proach of Darius of Gwyndryth. The two older men
embraced warmly and Malum was forgotten for the
moment.

"You old rascal," Sarad said, dropping into Com-
mon. "I've been hearing tall tales about your triumphs.
In fact, the rather fragrant reminders of your success
greeted me from the battlements as I rode in."

"Rebellion's a bad business," Darius said noncom-
mittally.

"And how did the Duke of Abercorn take the exe-
cution of his son?"

"I hear that he has taken to his bed," Darius replied.

"And what brings you here this morning?" Sarad
asked, changing the subject diplomatically.

"The Chamberlain is indisposed and the Queen has
asked me to fill in for him."

"Not fair, Gwyndryth, not fair." The Thane chuck-
led. "The rest of us have been slaving at this for years
and you trot in for what may be the final vote."

Darius' answering smile had an apologetic aspect. "I
am sensible of the honor," he said, "and you may rest

144 + JOHN LEE

assured that I have been exhaustively briefed by Her

Majesty."

Today's the day all right, Malum thought. She
wouldn't have sent Gwyndryth unless she expected this
to be the final session. The other two kept talking, but
Malum's attention was diverted by the arrival of the
other members of the Commission. The day, though
young, was already warm and the men looked uncom-
fortable in their velvet and ruffs. The Oligarch, by con-
trast, looked cool in her long silk robe.

The Hodman, dressed in last winter's fashion, was
red-faced; Otorin of Lissen was composed; but only the
Elector, in a loose linen tunic, sans ruff, was moving
easily. His joints were at their best in this weather. Ma-
lum's own ruff was chafing his neck as he wended his
way through them with a cooled goblet of fruit juice for
his master.

After five minutes of general conversation, with old
acquaintances chatting about their visits home, the
Commission drifted to the table. The glass had been
taken out of the windows and bees flew back and forth,
attracted by the scents of the herbs strewn over the floor.
The buzz of continuing conversation rose, generating a
feeling of relaxation and goodwill. A positive omen,
Malum thought.

The Elector broke the mood by rapping on the table.
He didn't make a very loud noise, but it was enough to
bring silence. They're all on edge, Malum thought, no
matter how relaxed they appear.

"Madam Oligarch, my lords," Phalastra said into the
bee-humming quiet, "I trust that you have all had pleas-
ant times. Now, alas, we must return to the task at hand-
It is my hope that today we shall finally vote on the
proposal presented at the beginning of the summer
without additions, subtractions, or amendments." The
reedy voice faded away.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 145

"I shall take your silence for acceptance," he contin-
ued after a brief pause- "Before we vote, I should like
to welcome the Lord Darius of Gwyndryth, an old
friend of mine and as much a hero in Umbria as he is
here." He inclined his head in Darius' direction and the
Holdmaster returned the gesture. "He speaks today for
Queen Naxania of Paladine. Having said that, let us to
the vote."

Malum rose and distributed copies of the map to each
of the representatives.

"We shall be voting," Estragoth resumed, "on the
acceptance of the partition as represented on the map
before you, as I have said, without revisions. I shall
start at the end of the table and work my way around.
Hodman, how say you?"

"Songuard says no." The Hodman was mopping
himself with a large kerchief, but his voice was deep
and firm.

The voting continued, and when the tally was done,
Umbria was the sole supporter of the proposal. Estra-
goth masked his disappointment well. There was no hint
of it in his voice as he said, "Let the record show that
the partition as presented has been rejected by a major-
ity of the states. Does anyone wish to propose an
amendment?" He looked around the table. The only
indication of his anger at the result, at the betrayal he
felt from those who had listened to him and spoken him
fair, only to vote against him when the count was called,
was a vein throbbing in his temple-

"An it please you. Lord President." There was no
hint of triumph in Olivderval's voice. The tone was level
and unemotional.

"The chair recognizes the representative from Isphar-
del." Phalastra matched her formality.
"Isphardel proposes that the territories marked out

146 t JOHN LEE

OB the map be accepted as drawn, with these condi-
tions:

"One, roadways be built through the valleys of Go-

rodontiou and Saiadonda and continue through the
newly created Songean lands to the borders of New Is-
phardel.
"Two, gateways be constructed through the Upper

Causeway to permit passage of both roads.

•Three. Isphardis and their goods, both personal and
mercantile, shall pass freely at all times and shall not
be subject to customs duties, tolls or taxes of any kind
unless levied by the government of Isphardel.

"Four, the roads and gateways shall be maintained
and kept in good repair by the Isphardi government.

"Five, all disputes arising from the use of these roads
shall be decided by an international tribunal.

"Six, the freedom of passage shall be guaranteed by
the international community and will be maintained, if
necessary, by force of arms." She paused and looked
around.

Jarrod raised his hand. "The Discipline is to be ac-
corded territory, the exact size and location of which is
still to be decided."

"Yes indeed," Olivderval acknowledged. She leaned
forward and tapped a pile of papers in front of her. "I
have copies of the proposals here, which I shall pass
around." She gave a few to Otorin of Lissen, who sat
to her right, and others to Borr Sarad on her left. "I
should be obliged if you would all add the paragraph
regarding the Discipline." She turned in her chair and
looked back to the scribes' table. "I have some for you
gentlemen," she said.

Malum got up and retrieved them. He could not bring
himself to look at the Oligarch and mumbled his thanks-
The rest of the Commission was reading the document,
but no one, he noted, looked particularly surprised. They

THE UNICORN PEACE + 147

all knew that this was coming, he thought, everyone but
us.

Phalastra of Estragoth looked up from his reading.
"Is there any discussion of the proposal?" he inquired.
The Hodman spoke up. "Isphardel will build and pay
for the roads, no?"

"That is correct," the Oligarch replied. "We shall, of
course, welcome your help when it comes to manpower.
It will be a long and costly job and I would think that
a large number of your people will benefit as a result."

The Hodman grunted and nodded his head. "There
is nothing here about Fort Bandor," he said.

"Since it does not concern the Outland, we felt that
that was a matter for the Empire and yourselves to work
out and hence not the business of this Commission- I
have, however, made the position of my government on
the subject quite clear."

She looked around the table for other questions to
answer. Surely, Malum thought, Estragoth will raise
some objection. None came. The sly bitch has got them
all, he concluded and felt a touch of disappointment
that his master had no counter.

"Further discussion?" the Elector asked. "No? Well
then, let us put it to the vote. All those in favor of the
partition of the Outland as shown on the map, with the
addition of the provisos introduced by the Oligarch,
raise your hands."

Hands went up all around the table.

"So be it then," Phalastra said.

"One moment, my Lord President," Olivderval inter-
jected. "You haven't cast a vote and it would look much
better to the world if the Commission was seen to be
unanimous."

"No doubt it would. Madam, but the Empire of Um-
bria is abstaining," the Elector said dryly. "Now, if there
is no further business, I thank you all for your patience

148 + JOHN LEE

and hard work over the years. My last action as Presi-
dent of this Commission is to call for a vote of disso-
lution." He was entirety gracious.

"Before you do that," Otorin interposed, "I should
like to propose a vote of thanks to the Elector of Es-
tragoth for the exemplary way in which he has handled
these meetings. He has been an inspiration to us all."

There was a chorus of "Hear, hear" and then every-
body applauded. The scribes joined in and there were
tears in Malum's eyes as his master nodded his thanks
with a tight little smile on his face.

Estragoth held up his hand. "I thank you all. It has
been an honor to serve with you. And, on that note, I
declare the Commission for the Outland dissolved." He
pushed his chair back and stood.

chAptep 15

m

•alum took his time returning to the suit of
apartments in which the Umbrian delegation had lived
for so many years. He wanted time to think and he was
in no rush to confront the Elector. He looked around
the quadrangles as he walked through them. There was
a slightly hazy quality to the light engendered by the
still air and the smoke from cooking fires inside and
outside the walls. It left a pleasant tang in the nostrils.

He realized that he was going to miss the place. He
had spent more time at Stronta in recent years than in
either Angom or Quem. In fact he had only spent a
fortnight in Quern in the past two years and had found
it depressingly provincial. Still, if old Estragotb retired,
he would be dependent on its revenues unless he could
find another place at Court. With the failure of the mis-
sion here at Stronta, that now looked a lot less likely.
He climbed the stairs to the Elector's apartment feeling
decidedly down in the mouth.

Phalastra of Estragoth, to Malum's surprise, was sit-
ting quietly in his oversized, overstaffed chair, sipping
at a glass of wine.

"Come in, young man," he said in this thin, creaking
voice. "Join me in a glass."

Malum put his papers and his writing utensils down
on the sideboard and did as he was bidden.

"I think we can congratulate ourselves," the Elector

150 t JOHN LEE

said as Malum came over to his chair. He raised his
glass. Malum, startled, followed suit.

"You are pleased with the outcome, sir?" he asked,
surprise evident.

"Well, it wasn't the total triumph that the Emperor
demanded," the old man conceded. "In fact, I shall
probably have some difficulty convincing Hiy Imperial
Majesty of the wisdom of my point of view. The truth
is that we achieved the territorial advantages that we
sought." He looked up at Malum. "Get yourself a chair,
young man, and sit you down."

"Yes," he continued after Malum had complied, "I
think that we can be proud of our effort."

"But the Isphardis got their right of passage through
Songuard," Malum objected gently.
"Yes, they did and just think what problems that's
going to cause them," Estragoth said with satisfaction.
"Add to that the fact that their lands are divided, their
supply lines impossibly long, and our eventual annexa-
tion of their new territory will be simple."

"But they will have international support and guar-
antees."

"Bah." Estragoth was dismissive. "It is easy for the
Kingdoms to pay lip service to that sort of thing, but
can you really see them committing troops to the de-
fense of the Isphardis?" His voice was rich in disdain.
"No, no, they'll let that bunch of peddlers fend for
themselves. As for the Isphardis, they are incapable of
forming an army for themselves. They're afraid to fight.
They may be able to pay the Songeans to fight for them,
but the Songeans have no military tradition either."

"The Isphardis have a great many ships," Malum
pointed out. "They could attack our south coast." He
was thinking of Quern.

"Wouldn't do them any good," Estragoth returned

THE UNICORN PEACE + 151

i
with satisfaction. "Ships are only good for landing sol-
diers and they have no soldiers. It might be different if
they had the secret of the cannon, but that is ours." He
smiled briefly. "Besides, they will be too preoccupied in
building roads through Songuard to have much time for
anything else. With a little bit of encouragement, some
of the clans may prove less than helpful to them." The
smile flickered again. "There is a long tradition of brig-
andage in the mountains."

"So you planned it this way all along," Mahim said.
"Not entirely. The basic disposition of the various
territories, yes, but for the rest I had considerable as-
sistance from Olivderval. I helped it along, of course.
Little things mostly; subtle touches. Like giving that
armclock to the Mage." There was a small, dry chuckle.
"Magicians can't abide machines,"

What a wily old bird Phalastra is, Malum thought. He
wanted the Isphardis to have their roads all along. At a
deeper level there was resentment- that the old man had
not trusted him enough to confide in him. Nevertheless,
the future suddenly seemed a good deal brighter. A place
in the Imperial Household no longer seemed so unlikely.

"Well?" Greylock demanded.

"Olivderval did her work well," Jarrod replied.

Greylock put his book aside and took off his spec-
tacles. He looked up at Jarrod and smiled slowly. "Go-
ing to be mysterious, are you? Going to make an old
man wait. Very well; you've earned the right. Come and
sit down and tell me in your own time."

"I'm sorry, sir," Jarrod said, taking the armchair
opposite the Mage. "I didn't mean to be dramatic. I
just feel drained and a little bit let down somehow. It
was over so fast. It was all cut and dried and 'Com-
mission dissolved.' There should have been more to it

152 + JOHN LEE

after fifteen years of maneuvering and impassioned

speeches."

"Life has a habit of not living up to our expecta-
tions," Greylock commented softly. "But suppose you
tell me what did happen."

Jarrod shrugged. "Estragoth reintroduced the Um-
brian partition without any alterations, exactly as Rag-
nor said he would, and it was voted down. Then
Olivderval introduced the compromise that she had dis-
cussed with us and it passed easily. The Elector was the
only one who didn't vote for it. He abstained."

"Didn't put up a fight, try delaying tactics?"

"Nothing. I expected him to call for an adjournment
and then follow up with a final attempt to twist arms,
but he just opened things up for discussion and moved
to a vote. He was quite gracious about it. He was en-
tirely cordial with us, even the Oligarch, after the meet-
ing. I just don't understand."

"Phalastra of Estragoth is a gentleman of the old
school," Greylock said. "Grace in defeat is to be ex-
pected. Still, if the Empire is looking for an excuse to
attack its neighbors, as the Archmage seems to think,
the abstention makes some sense. Estragoth has put the
Empire on record as being against the settlement with-
out seeming to be unreasonable or obstructionist."

"Or as acquiescing without appearing to back down,"
Jarrod added.

"Either way," Greylock acknowledged. "It won't
make a bit of difference if it comes to war."

Jarrod weighed his words before speaking. "I hesitate
to say this, sir. I know that both you and the Archmage
have the feeling that another war is in the cards, but I
don't think that people of my generation feel that way.
We feel that the world is tired of war, even the Umbri-
ans."

"Well, I can only hope that you're right," Greylock

THE UNICORN PEACE t 153
said without enthusiasm. "Mind you, Varodias might
be counting on just such a reaction."

"How so?" Jarrod asked.

"The Umbrian-Isphardi border is a long way away,
even further for Talisman and Arundel. Ostensibly, we
have no vital interests to protect there. If the Empire
has designs on Isphardi wealth or Songean resources, it
may well be counting on a lack of will in the west to
come to their aid."

"Let's hope it never comes to that," Jarrod said as
cheerfully as he could.

"Selah to that. However, Ragnor thinks as I do and
he has an uncanny way of being right when it comes to
Umbria."

Jarrod smiled politely. Two old men trapped in the
past, he thought, unable to understand that the world
has changed.

"Be that as it may," Greylock said, "d'you think that
the Oligarchs will live up to their end of our bargain?"

"I took the precaution of putting the agreement in
writing and getting Olivderval's signature on it," Jarrod
said with a touch of pride.

"Did you indeed. Well done. They'll pay Tithe in re-
turn for Weatherwarding. Excellent. It means that we'll
have to emphasize it at the Collegium. We'll need a lot
more Weatherwards in the future. Eventually we shall
have to stretch the net to cover almost all of the Out-
land." He looked across at Jarrod and smiled. "It looks
as if we shall have to encourage members of the Disci-
pline to have children. We're going to need them." He
stopped and thought for a moment,

"Speaking of the Outland, I presume that your Con-
cordat includes Isphardel's new territory and that will
mean that Songuard will be getting its weather con-
trolled for free. Perhaps we should negotiate a treaty
with them as well. We shall need Weatherwards in the

154 + JOHN LEE

mountains come what may." The smile reappeared and
he stretched languidly. "Most of this won't be my prob-
lem anyway. We're looking twenty years into the future
and I'll be dead by then."

"I wouldn't count on that," Jarrod said loyally.
"Ragnor's at least twenty years older than you are,"

"True, lad, but Ragnor's either Errathuel come back
or a freak of nature. Either way, I doubt he'll be with
us much longer."
"He seemed fine to me," Jarrod objected.

"He's very frail," Greylock said gently, "and the Sea-
son of the Moons is not too far off. He's never had
much tolerance for the cold."

Jarrod wasn't comfortable with the turn the conver-
sation had taken. "What do you suppose will happen
next?" he asked.

"On the international front? Very little. There will be
a proclamation of the Commission's decision. The ad-
venturous and the desperate will move into the Outland
and stake claims." He hesitated. "That reminds me," he
said, "when are we going to resume the clearing of the
Giants' Causeway?"

"As soon as Nastrus gets back. He's decided to take
a holiday. I've got a bunglebird ready to send to Dean
Handrom the moment that he reappears. With luck
we'll get to our eastern border before he disappears
again for the rutting season. After that, it's anybody's
guess."

"You'd better ask him to recruit some of his kin while
he's there," Greylock observed, "The broadsheets paid
gratifying attention to our exploit at Celador, but if the
effort peters out, opinion may turn against us."

"We could probably manage without the unicorn if
we could persuade our Magicians to venture into the
Outland. We don't have to move the stuff all that far.
I imagine the new settlers would be grateful for some

THE UNICORN PEACE + 155

building material and Nastrus isn't very good at send-
ing things to locations that he doesn't know first-
hand." He felt a strong twinge of guilt at hiding his
intentions from Greylock, and he made a mental note
to pick a new site when Nastrus came back. There
must be more than enough stone for the new building
by now.

"Well, now that you're up to Talisman, you'll prob-
ably get some help from the Chief Warlock."

"From Sumner?" Jarrod feigned mild surprise. "Isn't
that rather out of character?"

Greylock gave a phlegmy little chuckle. "On the con-
trary. It would be an opportunity to make himself bet-
ter known, give him a chance to profit from the work
that we've already done." He looked at Jarrod side-
ways, eyes glittering. "Let us not forget that Sumner
wants to be the next Archmage."

"That's not possible," Jarrod said flatly.
"I for one hope not, but he's a very ambitious man."

"He's never performed a significant piece of Magic,"
Jarrod objected.

"You're forgetting the defeat of the Outlanders in
Arundel," Greylock said mildly. "He claims credit for
that."

"That was just a jumped-up piece of Weatherward-
ing," Jarrod said dismiss! vely. "He wouldn't have pulled
it off without Ragnor's tactics."

"You're being uncharitable," Greylock said with a
smile. "The fact remains that he sees himself as the sav-
ior of Arundel and he blames Ragnor for what he per-
ceives as a lack of recognition. It would be a mistake
to underestimate him."

Jarrod sighed. "I always thought that life would be
simple once we had defeated the Outlanders, but it cer-
tainly hasn't turned out that way."

"The irony is that it was the Outlanders who held

156 + JOHN LEE

us all together, gave us a sense of common purpose.
I've a nasty feeling that future generations will look
back on these past fifteen years as the golden age of
Strand."

"Perish the thought," Jarrod said. "No, I'm looking
forward to the era of the Archmage Greylock."

The old Mage smiled. "Egregious flattery," he re-
joined. "I still have to get the votes."

chapten 16

reylock's conversation, with its talk about Rag-
nor's death, stayed with Jarrod and worried him. If the
Archmage died, or even if he decided to abdicate his
office in favor of Greylock, Jarrod's life was bound to
change. No Archmage, to his knowledge, had ever
stepped aside or been deposed, but Ragnor had mani-
festly accomplished everything that could be expected
of an Archmage. He had invoked the Cloak of Protec-
tion to render Celador invisible when the Outlanders
threatened and he had, in the popular mind at least,
discovered and performed the Great Spell. If he wanted
to lay down the burden, no one would gainsay him.

Jarrod's mind ran on. If Greylock became Archmage,
and, despite the old boy's reservations, there really could
be no question that he would, then he might well suc-
ceed him as Mage of Paladine. That was farther than
Jarrod had ever thought to go when he was growing up
and it would be enormously satisfying, but it would also
mean that he would be tied to the Outpost and to
Stronta—at least for the first two years.

He got up from his chair, went to the window and
looked out. Greylock had also brought Nastrus to mind.
Where was he? Jarrod wondered as he contemplated the
townsfolk's grazing kina. It was ironic that Pellia, for
whom he had had the greatest affection, had only been
back to Strand twice, while Nastrus, who had, more
often than not, been a thom in the foot, was the one

158 + JOHN LEE

who stayed. He had come to count on the unicorn's
presence, but he had no right to do so. The truth was
that he needed the unicorn to turn his dream into a
reality, and he now realized that if he didn't seize the
opportunity soon, he might never get the chance.

He left the window and wandered over to the shelves
that lined one of the walls. His mind continued to make
calculations as he ran his eye over the handwritten
books in their wooden covers and the carefully ar-
ranged ranks of scrolls in search of a text on building.
There was nothing remotely useful. He had told Grey-
lock that he would send a bunglebird off to Handrom
the moment that Nastrus reappeared. He came to a de-
cision. Even if he did send the message promptly, it
would take a sennight for the Dean to assemble a cadre
of Magicians and a fortnight more for them to travel to
the point on the Causeway where work had stopped.
That would give him three sennights, with Nastrus' help,
to get his own work done, or at least to make a consid-
erable start.

The decision made, he went to his desk and drew a
sheet of paper toward him. He dipped a quill in the
inkwell and began to make notes. There was a great
deal of work to be done and most of it would have to
be done in secrecy. There was sure to be enough stone
available by now, but what he had in mind would re-
quire more than that. Worse still, he had no expertise
in the area. He would need wood and roofing material
and neither were available in the Outland. Before he
did anything he would need advice. There was a Master
Mason that he had met at the palace after Hall. If the
man was still at Stronta, he might be able to glean some
of the things he needed to know. On reflection, he
thought, it would be best if Nastrus stayed away a while
longer.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 159

The following morning Jarrod went in search of
Moresby Yarrow. His memory had retrieved the name
as well as some information that the mason had vol-
unteered. The man had been brought to Stronta by a
midcountry baron made prosperous by the boom in the
wool trade and desirous of constructing a new house to
reflect his new status. Yarrow had complained that the
baron had kept him cooling his heels while he had en-
joyed the opening of the boar-hunting season. Had the
potential commission not been a big one. Yarrow had
said, he would have been on his way home days ago.
Jarrod hurried to the Chamberlain' office, hoping that
he would not be too late.

It took the best part of the morning to track the man,
and Yarrow, when found hunched over a pint of porter
in one of the better taverns outside the walls, matched
Jarrod's memory of him in every respect save for his
clothes. He was broad-shouldered and barrel-chested,
with an outdoorsman's weathered face. He was bald
and made up for it by being bearded. His hands were
large with callused pads and his clothes, on this day,
were good, but plain. If he was impressed by being
sought out by a Mage, he didn't show it.

Jarrod's offer of another pint was accepted, and served
by the landlord himself. Mine host was nervously in-
gratiating and clearly hoped that his new patron would
leave as soon as possible. After a few minutes of aimless
pleasantries. Yarrow looked at Jarrod and said, "I am
flattered by your company. Excellence, but I rather
doubt that this is one of your usual haunts. In fact the
goggling of this riffraff"—he indicated the rest of the
room with a toss of his head—"rather proves it. I imag-
ine that you want something from me."

"Information," Jarrod agreed. "You seem to me to
be the kind of man who would respect a confidence."

160 + JOHN LEE

"Depends what it is," Yarrow returned. "I'll have no
truck with politics."

"No politics, I promise you. I'd like to ask your ad-
vice about how one goes about building a modem cas-
tle."

"A castle?" Yarrow gave him a doubtful look. "Well,
I'd suggest you do one of two things. Apprentice your-
self to a good master or hire someone who knoWs what
they're doing."

"Sound advice, but I'm afraid I can't do either of
those," Jarrod said evenly, "but I'd be happy to pay
you for your information."

"I see, pick my brains and then give the commission
to someone else. It won't work, you know. Use inferior
people and you'll get a botched job. Oh, it may look ail
right when it's first up, but as soon as you move in the
problems will start."

"That isn't the way of it. The site I have in mind is
extremely remote and there's no way of getting a crew
there."

"Then it can't be done," Yarrow said flatly, and took
a long pull at his porter. He wiped his mouth with the
back of his hand.

"You're forgetting the Magic," Jarrod replied with a
faint smile.

"Ah. So I did." He gave a faint shrug. "If you can
do it all with Magic, what would you need me for?"

"I can't just look at a picture and reproduce it," Jar-
rod explained. "Well, that's not quite true," he
amended. "I could produce an illusion solid enough for
you to have to open the door to get inside, but it would
disappear the moment I stopped concentrating."

"This begins to sound interesting," Yarrow said,
draining his tankard, "but it's poor advice I give on an
empty stomach."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 161

Jarrod looked around and caught the innkeeper's eye.
The man came over, bowing and rubbing his hands.

"Master Yarrow and I would like some food." Seeing
the renewed nervousness in the man's face, he said,
"Perhaps you have a private room where we could con-
duct our conversation."

"Oh indeed. Your Grace, if you and your guest would
be kind enough to accompany me I can assure you of
complete privacy. Perhaps some wine with your repast?
My wife does a very nice capon and there are those who
swear that her syllabub is the best in Stronta." He was
backing and bowing and motioning them to follow him
all the while that he was talking.

"Does this happen to you all the time?" Yarrow asked
as they followed.

"I very rarely frequent taverns," Jarrod answered.

The innkeeper ushered them into a small, comfort-
able room on the second floor, bowed yet again and
disappeared.

"Now, Excellence," Yarrow said as they settled in,
"perhaps you could tell me a little more about this
project."

"In the strictest confidence."

"Oh aye. This comes under the heading of a profes-
sional secret and I didn't get to be a Master Mason by
having a loose tongue." He smiled for the first time,
"Besides, it isn't healthy to cross a Mage, especially one
who is prepared to buy me a meal. I am about to be in
your debt."

"Very well then," Jarrod said, and launched into an
explanation.

Moresby Yarrow ate stolidly while he listened. Serv-
ing girls came and went with platters and wine. The
food was simple but well cooked and the wine was good
enough to make Jarrod check his coin purse to see how
much money he had brought with him. When the meal

162 + JOHN LEE

and the dissertation were over. Yarrow pushed his chair
back so that he could stretch his legs and belched con-
tentedly.

"A pretty tale. Excellence," he said, "and an even
prettier problem. It intrigues me. The first people to
push to the edge of the Alien Plain, the gods know how
many years from now, come across a splendid, well-
fortified castle where no such buildings should be." He
leaned back and patted his belly. "I like it. What I like
even more is the challenge of imagining something prac-
tical that will seem absolutely modern, oh, say a hun-
dred years from now. Yes indeed, that's a commission
worth taking."

"So you'll tell me what I have to know to build it?"
Jarrod said with barely concealed relief.

"I have no objection to that," Yarrow said with a
self-satisfied smile. "The only trouble is that I don't
know precisely what will be needed. Besides, we're go-
ing about this with our feet over our heads. We need to
talk to a designer of castles first. Once he has drawn his
plans, I can build them."

Jarrod gave the mason a jaundiced look. "I really
don't have the time to go around looking for experts. I
need to know how many beams I need, how long they
should be, how thick, what the best material for a roof
is, how many chimneys I'll need. Surely you can tell me
about those kinds of things."

"Not without plans I can't- Anyway, it won't take
too long to find the man we need- He lives three streets
from here. He's retired now, mostly because no one's
building castles these days. His grandfather was the man
who designed Stronta, the only star fort on Strand.
There hasn't been a more advanced design since. The
talent skipped a generation; Chatham's father played
the country gentleman and ran through the fortune his
father had made. Chatham has his grandfather's gift,

THE UNICORN PEACE t 163

but he's never really had the chance to exercise it. There
wasn't much building in the last years of the war and
since then the styles have changed. Loves turrets with
conical rooves, does Chatham."

"Is Chatham his first or his last name?"
"First. Chatham Greygor is the full version. Why
don't you pay up and we'll go and see him."

A quarter of an hour later Jarrod found himself
climbing the none too salubrious stairs of a three-story
house in the "old quarter," as the town within the walls
was now called. The houses on the street were separated
from one another, and the grimy windows of the stair-
well showed a small plot of land in back. This had ob-
viously been a prosperous neighborhood in times gone
by.

Greygor himself was tall and thin. His beard and the
fringe of hair that survived were grey. A pair of spec-
tacles without sidepieces clung precariously to the end
of a long nose. His clothes were out of fashion by at
least a decade and none too clean- They also appeared
to have been made for a bigger man.

"Come in gentlemen," he said. "Pick a chair and push
a moggy off it. I'd offer you refreshments, but I haven't
had a chance to go to the market today and I won't
have strong drink in the house. It ruined my father, you
see," he said by way of explanation. He was clearly
flustered by their arrival,

"Don't fret, Chatham," Yarrow said. "The Mage and
I have just eaten."

"Mage is it?" Greygor asked.

"Aye, Mage Courtak."

"Courtak? Oh, the unicorn man. Yes, I've heard of
you. An honor, Excellence." He gestured to a large
armchair occupied by a large feline.

Jarrod went over and dislodged the fat tabby before

164 + JOHN LEE

taking his seat. The cat promptly leaped back up, turned
round a couple of times and curled up, purring-

"Robes make irresistible laps, I'm afraid," Greygor
said diffidently, "especially dark ones."

"Don't worry," Jarrod reassured him, stroking the
rumbling creature, "I'm fond of animals."

"That's all right then," the architect said, tipping an
orange-and-white out of another chair. "People are
funny about cats. Don't seem to realize how affection-
ate they are. Too affectionate sometimes. That's why
my drawing table is on a slant. All I have to do is unroll
a piece of paper and they all want to sit on it."

"That's all very interesting, Chatham, but we didn't
come here to talk about cats," Yarrow cut in.
"No, no, of course not." He paused, looking bewil-
dered. "It's always good to see you, Moresby, but why
have you and the Mage come?"

"The Mage has a commission that's right down your
alley, but there are complications. I think I'd better let
him explain."

So Jarrod outlined his plans again, more surely and
swiftly this time. When he had finished, there was a
long, long silence, broken, finally, by a drawn-out sigh
from Greygor.

"It will be expensive," he said cautiously.

Jarrod was relieved that he hadn't said that it was
impossible. "How much?" he asked.

"Well, you won't have to pay the workmen's wages,
food and lodging, but we're talking about a very sub-
stantial structure and, even without the stone, there are
a lot of materials to be bought. You are also asking for
some design innovations."

"How much?" Jarrod pressed.

Greygor looked over at his friend. "About five hun-
dred thousand crowns, wouldn't you think, Moresby?"

"Sounds about right to me," Yarrow concurred.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 165

"One thing's obvious to me, though. We'll have to be
there when he builds it."

"Out of the question," Jarrod said.

"Only way you'l! get it built," Yarrow replied matter-
of-factly. "You're no expert on site selection, there are
always surprises along the way and you want something
that will look up-to-date a century hence. We'll have to
experiment."

Greygor nodded his agreement.

"If I could get you out there, and it's a very big if,
entailing a trip through the void on a unicom that could
easily kill you, you would have to rough it in a wilder-
ness without food or shelter. Why would you want to
do that?"

"I can't answer for Moresby, but for me, buildings
are my children," Chatham explained. "They are what
I leave behind to keep my memory alive, the mark that
says that I was here and did something worthwhile in
my time," He smiled ruefully. "I'm a good maker of
plattes, better than most I think, but I hate to compro-
mise, to settle for the second-rate and, as a result, there
aren't a lot of my children around, most of them are
modest and some I took on because I needed to eat.
I'm ashamed of some of those- Now you offer me a
chance to do something major, something designed to
last for centuries, and you ask why I'd be willing to
take risks?"

"And you?" Jarrod asked of Yarrow.

"I'm bored of working for men like this puffed-up
little baron with the manners of a swineherd. No, I take
that back. I've know some civil swineherds. I like the
challenge of this project. Being able to do something no
one's ever done in a place that no one's ever done it-
And I don't mind going to the grave with no one know-
ing that I've done it." He stopped. "One thing, though,"

166 + JOHN LEE

he said, pointing a finger at Jarrod. "I want my name
large and clear on that castle."

Jarrod smiled. "Done," he said. "If the two of you
are prepared to take the risks and I can't do it without
you, I don't see that I have much of an option. The
final decision, however, belongs to the unicorn. He may
not agree to take you; indeed, he may not want to have
anything to do with the project. Unicorns look on
buildings as prisons."

"I see," Greygor said doubtfully. "You have to ask
the unicorn."

Jarrod caught the sideways glance he gave to Yarrow.
"Don't worry," he said. "I'm not mad. The unicorn and
I can communicate." He smiled briefly. "I'm afraid that
I'm the victim of my own self-importance. I assumed
that everybody knew that."

"I had heard something like it," Yarrow admitted,
"but I thought it was just an embellishment by the bal-
lad makers. Well, I suppose you'd better go and ask
him."

"I'm afraid I can't do that. He's not at Stronta and
I don't know when exactly he'll be back. I think we'll
have to proceed on the assumption that he'll agree and
try to have everything ready by the time he shows up.
I'll be happy to pay you for the work you do," he added
quickly, "even if we don't get to build the place this
year." He saw the look of disappointment on Greygor's
face and of skepticism on Yarrow's. "What's the first
step?" he asked.

Yarrow stretched. "You and Chatham will have to
work on the plans and I'll scout about for sources of
wood and materials. Folks will assume that I'm making
inquiries for Baron Hyde."

. "Good," Jarrod said. He turned to Greygor. "When
can we start?"

The man thought a moment. "I'll make some prelim-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 167

inary sketches from what you've told me and you can
come back tomorrow afternoon. Or I could come to
you."

"I don't think that would be wise. The Outpost is as
full of gossip as a bathhouse- I'd as soon come here if
that won't cause trouble with your neighbors."

Greygor smiled. "Oh, they already think I'm mad. It
might even improve my credit with the local shopkeep-
ers."

"1*11 bring some money for you both," Jarrod prom-
ised, "but remember, no word of this to anyone."

The next sennight slipped by amid discussion of the
merits of a ground floor hall against those of one built
over a vaulted undercroft, the placement of the solar,
whether it would be possible to design a privy tower so
that there would be running water throughout, where
the servants should sleep, how many fireplaces and
where they should be located, if the kitchen should be
built apart. Jarrod had expected Greygor to produce
pictures of the main structure, but, instead, there was a
steady stream of floor plans.

Yarrow reported back every couple of days to collect
updated estimates on the number of beams needed, on
what kind of wood was best for the new roof construc-
tion that Greygor envisioned and to collect money from
Jarrod, Getting hold of that much ready coin was some-
thing of a problem, not because there was any lack of
it, but because the rents from Jarrod's estates and the
monies from the pensions he collected from the various
governments were kept in the Outpost's strongboxes.
After his first foray he decided to take Tokamo into his
confidence and thereafter things went smoothly. The
question of where to store the materials all that good
coin was purchasing was not so easily solved.

Jarrod insisted that the building materials be stored
beyond the Upper Causeway so that Nastrus, when he

168 + JOHN LEE

reappeared, would be able to transfer them directly to
the mountains. To Yarrow's objection that it would take
twenty men round the clock to guard them if they were
left in the open, Jarrod promised to set a warding spell
that would keep people out.

"Oh, and I suppose that after all this secrecy about
your participation, you're just going to ride out there
and perform Magic?" Yarrow retorted.
"Nonsense, Moresby," Greygor said. "The Mage will
simply make himself invisible and ride out there with
us. No one will be any the wiser."

"I can't do that," Jarrod said sadly.

"I thought all Magicians could make themselves in-
visible," Greygor said.

"Oh, we can. It's just that we're enjoined not to do
it for personal reasons; the possibilities for abuse, are
too great. I'm sure lots of my colleagues honor that in
the breach from time to time, but I am a Mage and I'm
supposed to set an example."

They were sitting comfortably in Greygor's main
room with a small coal fire burning in the grate and the
rose reflections of the sunset sky tinting the old carpet
and restoring its color. The light softened the outlines
of the ubiquitous cats and added to the feeling of ca-
maraderie.

"Got any bright ideas. Excellence?" Yarrow asked.

"First of all, if we're going to spend time together in
the mountains, you're both going to have to stop calling
me Excellence and the Mage, My name's Jarrod. And
yes, I think I have an idea. It's going to take some prac-
tice, but I could shape-change. I'd have to revert to my
normal self to set the warding in place, but if I stood
right under the Upper Causeway I should be invisible
from above."

Both the others looked uneasy. It was one thing to
get accustomed to the presence of a Mage, quite an-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 169

other when he started talking about changing into
something else.

"Have you, ah, have you selected your, um, alterna-
tive form?" Greygor asked.

Jarrod smiled, in part to calm their nervousness.
"Well, I shall have to practice somewhere quiet and
private and I shall need a model." He looked from one
to the other. "Don't worry," he said. "It won't be either
of you." He stretched his legs out and steepled his fin-
gers. "Since I will have to take back my own body to
perform the spell of protection, I can't simply take over
some creature and leave my own body. I shall have to
transform myself into that animal. The last time I did
it I was a boy and I'm told that I made a very strange-
looking sheep." He paused for a laugh that did not come.
"I thought," he resumed hurriedly, "that I might try to
become a cat." He gestured around the room. "There
are any number of examples here and you, Chatham, can
monitor me and tell me how successful I am."
"This isn't dangerous, is it?" Greygor inquired.

"Not for you."

"I wish you Inck, Jarrod," Yarrow said, "and I'd
love to stick around and see you try it. but I have to
get back and change for Hall. I don't want my boar-
hunting baron to think that I'm ungrateful for his con-
tinuing financial support." He got up and stretched.

"I should be going too," Jarrod agreed. "I'll be back
tomorrow morning and I'll do some preparatory work
then," he said to Greygor.

"I'll try to have some sketches of the curtain wall and
towers ready," the older man said. He pushed a cat off
his lap and stood up for the leavetaking. Yarrow paused
with his hand on the doorknob. "You're a Mage," he
said. "You can do anything you want. Why all this
hocus-pocus?"

"Because," Jarrod said slowly, "while the Discipline

170 + JOHN LEE

has been granted territory in the Outland, its location
hasn't been decided upon. As you probably know, I was
the Discipline's representative on the Commission. Now,
if you were one of the Queen's spies ..." He let the
phrase die.

"Oh, so that's the way of it," Yarrow said, and
slumped out.

Early the following day, Jarrod made his way to
Greygor's lodgings with a tingle of anticipation. Al-
though what he was hoping to do was not considered
serious Magic, he felt, nonetheless, as if he was em-
barking on an adventure. The previous evening he had
gone over the notes he had made as a boy. He had dis-
liked the anatomy sessions that were an integral part of
shape-changing, but he was glad now that Greylock had
been so meticulous in his tutelage. The drawings of the
musculature and skeleton of that long-dead cat were
clear and precise.

Greygor opened the door at his knock and then bus-
tled about preparing chai.

"Do you want me to go out for a walk?" he asked.

"Not unless you want to," Jarrod said. "In fact it
would be rather a help to have someone to judge how
successful my efforts are." He accepted a mug of chai
and added, "You'll have to be absolutely quiet."

"I'll just sit in a comer and watch," Greygor prom-
ised. "D'you mind telling me what will happen?"
"Not much of anything to begin with. I shall just try
to get into the mind of one of your cats first. I know
what the body of a cat looks like, but I don't know
what it feels like."

"You won't hurt the cat, will you?" Greygor asked
anxiously.

"Not at all. If I do it right the cat won't even know
I'm there."

"Oh well then, I suppose it's all right," Greygor said,

THE UNICORN PEACE + 171

sounding not altogether convinced. He took his chai
over to a miraculously cat-free chair by the wall.

Jarrod drank his fill and put his mug aside. He looked
over the group of cats. Two were grooming each other,
one was stalking a fly, three were intently watching
something through the window and the rest were snooz-
ing. He picked a large white stretched bonelessly in a
patch of sunshine. He adjusted his own posture until he
was comfortable and then shut his eyes and collected
himself. He blocked out his awareness of the room and
concentrated on the image of the cat. He reached out
gently with his mind, seeking that other intelligence. He
sensed a veiled consciousness, somnolent on the sur-
face, alert below. He probed further and knew that the
cat was aware of him. He felt an ear twitch. He slid
further in.

The cat's eyes flicked open and Jarrod saw a segment
of the room from the floor up. The cat shook its head.
Huge chairs loomed. The ceiling was a long way off.
Distance, however, occasioned no loss of detail. Every-
thing was sharp and clear. Inside the cat there was wari-
ness balanced by intense curiosity; a concentrated
stillness that could explode into motion in an instant.
The cat rolled from its side to its belly, hind legs pre-
pared to spring into escape if that was needed. The head
moved from one side to the other, scanning the other
members of the extended family to see if they had no-
ticed anything amiss. No visual evidence of that. The
cat sniffed the air and Jarrod knew the pack smell made
up of a dozen different strands. Chatham's odor was
part of the familiar. His own, he realized, was less so,
but the cat detected no sharpness of fear or anger com-
ing from his body.

The head turned and looked over the shoulder just
to make sure. Jarrod saw himself as a vast expanse of
blue, tapering upward. No sign of a threat, but one

172 + JOHN LEE

never knew with strange humans. The cat was on its
feet in one lithe move. It stretched, claws digging into
the carpet. It sauntered across the room and lept up
onto an unoccupied bench. Good vantage point, back
protected. Whatever this disturbance within it was, there
seemed no reason to display aggression. The eyes
roamed over the room just to be sure. When in doubt,
wash. Grooming commenced.

Jarrod withdrew and slowly opened his eyes. His
sight, he noted, was not as sharp and his sense of smell
seemed severely limited. He sat up.

"Interesting animals," he commented.

"Beautiful, mysterious and independent," Greygor
replied.

"The surface is cool and collected, but it's completely
feral underneath."

"Miniature warcats," Greygor said complacently.

"Fortunately I don't have to become one, just look
like one."

Jarrod stood up and undid his rope belt; then he
started to pull his robe off over his head.

"What are you doing now?" Greygor asked.

"Taking off my clothes," Jarrod said, his voice muf-
fled by the cloth.

He folded the robe and put it carefully on the carpet.
He unlaced his sandals and took them off. "No self-
respecting cat would wear clothes," he said. "Besides,
I'm going to have to make myself very much smaller
and I'd get swamped." He undid his breachclout, folded
it and put it on top of the robe.

"I hadn't thought of that," Greygor said, averting his
eyes. "One thing. Perhaps you ought to try this in the
other room."

"Oh, right, in case someone conies to visit."

"There is that, but I was thinking more of the cats.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 173

They might not take kindly to a strange cat in their
midst."

"A good point. I don't have the pack scent that says
I'm harmless. You do, by the way."

"All the more reason," Greygor said, and opened the
inner door.

The room was small and mostly taken up by the bed.
The bed, like the furniture in the main room, attested
to the family's past affluence, first by its size and then
by its appearance. The wood was dark and lustrous. At
some point in its history it had been carefully polished
by a servant or a conscientious housewife. The posts
were delicately carved, but the silk of the canopy was
dim and, in places, tattered. Jarrod edged past Greygor
and stood on a small rug. Greygor went and sat cross-
legged on the bed, Jarrod rotated his head to ease his
neck and shook his arms, hands hanging limp. He be-
gan to breathe deeply and rhythmically, clearing his
mind of everything except the task ahead. His eyelids
drooped and his chin sank.

Greygor found that he was holding his breath and
forced himself to breathe normally. Life was passing
strange, he thought. All those years of scrimping and
make-work when nothing interesting happened from
one month to the next and now his debts were paid and
he was in his bedchamber staring at a naked Mage who
was trying to turn himself into a cat. At that instant the
Mage's outline wavered and Greygor blinked a couple
of times to clear his eyes. The outline was sharp again,
but it seemed to Greygor that the Mage was shorter
than before. The blurring occurred again and this time
he was sure. Courtak was shrinking.

After about half of an hour had passed, Jarrod was
the size of a six-year-old boy and his skin was sheened
with sweat. This was harder than he had expected, and
he hadn't even begun on the transmogrification. He

174 + JOHN LEE

dropped onto all fours and began to concentrate on the
bones and muscles of his arms. He brought the fore part
of the cat to mind and started with his fingers.

The movement startled Greygor and, for a moment,
he thought that the Mage had fainted. Then he noticed
that the fingers of the hand nearest him were retracting
while the hand itself arched and became clubby. The
proportions of the arms changed so that the miniature
Mage was canting forward. There was a pause when
nothing seemed to be happening and then, with increas-
ing swiftness, the legs began to change. From the coc-
cyx a protrusion grew into a thin, ratlike tail. Hip and
shoulder joints modulated. Greygor stared transfixed
and slightly nauseated as the nose shrank and the jaw
became rounded. The ears elongated up into points.
There on the carpet was a pink, oversized cat, hairless
except for a incongruous cap of tight, brown curls.

That too began to change. The curls straightened out,
the hair became shorter and natter and finer. Hair be-
gan to sprout over the rest of the body and the spindly
tail bushed out. In a matter of what seemed like minutes
a very large, dark brown cat appeared. There was an-
other pause and Greygor could see that the animal's
breathing was labored. The chest rippled and became
more barrel-like, the hips slimmer. The breathing
slowed. Gradually, like snow settling on a ploughed
field, the brown fur turned white. There was another
blurring of outline, and when the cat became solid again
it was half its size. It was still big for a cat, but Greygor
had seen cats of that size before.

The round head fumed and Greygor saw the bright
pink of the inside of the ears and of the nose. Vivid
blue eyes regarded him quizzically. There was some-
thing not quite right, he thought, as the cat sat back on
its haunches and curled its tail around them. Then it
struck him.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 175

"Whiskers," he said, and his voice came out hoarsely.
"You need whiskers."

The cat's eyes closed and thin white filaments began
to grow out of both sides of the button nose.

"Long enough," Greygor said. "They're supposed to
be exactly the width of the broadest part of your body.
That's how you know if you can get through a given
space."

The cat's eyes opened and the pupils were no longer
round, though the irises remained a startling blue. The
transformation was complete. It stretched, first one way
then the other, testing its new muscles. Then it walked
quietly around the room, taking everything in. It circled
back to the bed, looked up at Greygor, collected itself
and sprang. It landed lightly on the bed and sat down
with a look of palpable satisfaction. It lifted a paw to
its mouth and nonchalantly began to groom itself.

Greygor laughed delightedly and applauded.

chapteR 17

^1 arrod's impersonation was declared an unqualified
success, but the cost was higher than he had expected.
His return to his own form left him weak, and all his
joints ached. His ride back to the Outpost was slow and
painful. He was fortunate in that no bullyboys lurked
in his path: he would have been easy pickings. He spent
the next two days in bed, and the aches and pains took
a good sennight before they entirely disappeared. One
thing was obvious to him: good as the disguise was, he
could not afford to assume it too often.

Accordingly, he sent word to Moresby Yarrow to
collect and hold the materials that he was acquiring and
to assemble the means to transport them beyond the
Upper Causeway all at one time- He did not know what
he would face when it came to building his monument,
but he knew that he could not afford to get there and
find that his body could not handle the power needed.

On the appointed day, Jarrod rode into the town in
the predawn dark and tethered his horse outside Grey-
gor's house. Half an hour later, the architect came down
and strapped on a saddlebag. He disappeared into the
house again and when he reappeared he was carrying a
large, white cat. He spoke soothingly to the horse and
then draped the cat carefully across the spot where the
neck emerged from the shoulders.

"Now you just stay limp while I get into the saddle,"

THE UNICORN PEACE + 177

he said. "You'll be quite safe as long as the horse stays
still."

Jarrod-the-cat wasn't convinced- He could smell the
horse's nervousness. If the animal turned skittish, he
had no way of hanging on except by digging in his claws
and that, he knew, was a prescription for disaster. He
felt and heard Greygor clamber into place. The horse,
mercifully, held its stance. It was a good thing, Jarrod
thought, that the yard was only half a mile away.

Greygor's hand stroked his back. "I'm afraid you'll
have to stay where you are," the architect said. "There
isn't as much room back here as I thought there would
be."

Jarrod braced himself as the uncomfortable and un-
dignified ride began. The one good thing was that, with
Gregor keeping the reins short there wasn't much like-
lihood that the horse would drop its head and dump
him onto the cobbled street. He prayed that they would
not break into a trot. The swaying of the cobblestones
beneath him was bad enough. He shut his eyes and re-
signed himself,

It might have been only half a mile, but the trip
seemed to take half a lifetime. The yard, when they fi-
nally reached it, was a lamplit bustle. It would have
been very large to the full-sized Jarrod, but to Jarrod-
the-cat it was vast and dangerous. It was filled with
stamping draft horses harnessed to long wagons filled
with timber. Other wagons were weighed down with
sackcloth-covered shapes. Roof slates or bricks, Jarrod
surmised as he was lifted off the horse and set down
upon the ground.

The view was terrifying. It was one thing looking up
at Greygor's furniture, but quite another to face this
prospect. The furniture, at least, stayed still. Flaring
torches threw unreliable, shifting patches of light. Large
men with big, hard boots lumbered around cursing and

178 + JOHN LEE

spitting. Horses moved restlessly, wheels creaked omi-
nously. The combined noise was appalling. Orders were
shouted, iron-shod hooves rang, bits jingled and, in the
distance, there was the hideous barking of a dog. There
was only one sensible thing to do. He turned, reared up
on his hind legs, and reached for Greygor's knee with
his front paws.

"Oh, we want to be carried do we," the architect said
with a grin. "What a lazy great beast you are."

Jarrod found the tone of voice offensive. He was not
accustomed to being talked to like a recalcitrant child,
but he was grateful when the man picked him up and
tucked him under his arm.

Greygor led the horse across the yard toward a wagon
loaded with kegs. Jarrod, eyesight uncommonly keen,
saw that Yarrow was sitting up on the box beside the
driver.

"The best of the morning to you, Moresby," Greygor
called out as they got close.

"And to you, friend Chatham, and to Your Excel-
lence," Yarrow replied, and ducked his head to Jarrod
with an ironic smirk.

'Take the cat, would you," Greygor said. "It's bloody
heavy."

Yarrow complied and Jarrod found himself plumped
down on the seat,

"What have you got in the back?" Greygor asked,
jerking his head in that direction.

"Ale. The men'll get it after they've unloaded the
wagons. You'd be surprised how much faster it goes
when they know it's waiting for them when they've fin-
ished."

"Well, you won't need me for that," the architect
returned. "I'll hitch the horse to the back and then I'll
go on home. The walk will do me good. Besides, I've

THE UNICORN PEACE + 179

work to do. Seeing all this material gathered together
gives me a feeling of urgency."

"Aye, it does tend to bring an air of reality to all
those pieces of paper, doesn't it? Off with you then;

we'll be off in a minute ourselves."

Jarrod enjoyed the trip out beyond the Causeways.
The familiar terrain, known since boyhood, seemed
oddly different. Movement, even tiny movement, caught
his eye, though the early light was poor. He found that
he was probing his surroundings with his nose and his
ears. The breeze from the south brought wood smoke,
the smell of oatcakes cooking, the complex stench of
middens, the powerful scent of man and of kina and,
closer, the sweat of horses. In the background was the
freshness of dew on the grass. His ability to separate
out the various scents and sounds amazed him, as did
his awareness of where they all came from.

This new body pleased him. He enjoyed the perver-
sity of being able to check on what was going on behind
his back without having to move his torso. What he did
not enjoy, however, was the feeling that the Place of
Power engendered. It made his fur feel prickly. The
guarding menhirs and the two towering steles, one
white, one black, raised the hackles on his back. His
tail lashed to and fro. Even when the structure was lost
behind them in the dust kicked up by their procession,
he could feel them.

The next landmark that came into sight was the
Stronta Gate, whose defense had caused so much hard-
ship and such loss of life all those years ago. Its shadow
lay over Greylock still. The great doors had been re-
paired, but these days they stood open. There were
guards still, however, though in this modem age they
passed their time by making passage of the gate a slow
and frustrating thing. It was not until all the paperwork
had been read by three of them and a keg of ale had

180 + JOHN LEE

changed hands that they were allowed to continue on
their way.

Through the first set of doors, down the wide, high
tunnel with the iron-tipped bottom of the portcullis
protruding from the ceiling like fangs, out again be-
tween the metal-sheathed northern doors and into the
light. Ahead of them lay the Alien Plain, the grass
scythed short for a good league. It was empty now, but
later in the day gentlemen and prosperous merchants
would come out to ride and to show off their horseflesh.

Once beyond the remnants of the older causeway, the
cart turned left and headed westward, followed by the
procession of wagons. Jarrod watched the wall go by
for a while and then curled up and napped lightly until
the cart came to a halt. He stretched and peered across
a broad area that had been cleared of stones. Yarrow
stood up and waved the convoy into the position that
he wanted. Then the business of unloading began.

Moresby Yarrow moved continually from wagon to
wagon, directing, ordering, jesting and, on more than
one occasion, lending a heavily muscled shoulder to the
stacking of a rough-planed beam of robur. His bald
pate gleamed in the sun and his voice rose above the
crashing and creaking and the curses- Jarrod, watching
from the wagon seat and luxuriating in the feel of sun
on his fur, reckoned that he had been exceedingly for-
tunate in his choice of mason-cum-foreman. Had he be-
lieved in such things, he would have said that it was
destiny, or, that the god in charge of building was be-
neficent.
It was obvious that it would take several hours to get
everything unloaded and the workmen back on the road
home and equally obvious that there was nothing for
him to do. He decided that he might as well explore.
The feline part of his nature expected it. Since he might
never be a cat again, it seemed a pity to waste the ex-

THE UNICORN PEACE t 181

perience. He smiled to himself. Greylock had taught him
well. One side of him condemned this ruse as frivolous,
but if he used the opportunity constructively, he would
silence the nagger in his mind.

He looked down over the side of the cart. The ground
seemed farther away than he had expected. Further-
more, jumping down from a height was not something
that he had practiced. It was time to banish his human
doubts and let his feline instincts take over. He gathered
his haunches under him and selected a spot. His body
gave an involuntary wiggle just before he launched out.

He landed easily, legs bending to absorb the shock.
He shook himself approvingly and walked away from
the noise and the work with his tail standing proudly
up in the air. The daymooa was up and his twin shad-
ows slid along the ground in front of him. The sun had
climbed halfway up the sky and the light was getting
stronger. He contracted his pupils to cut down on the
growing glare and padded on contentedly, head moving
from side to side. Walking on four legs, he thought, was
a much smoother, easier way of doing it. He broke into
a trot and then put on a sudden spurt of extra speed.
It was exhilarating. He was amazed at how rapid the
acceleration had been. Even Nastrus couldn't move
from a trot to a gallop that fast.

His^run had brought him to the edge of a tumble of
old blocks of stone, the edges rounded now by centuries
of rain and wind. He was panting, mouth open, tongue
protruding slightly, and his heart was beating fast. This
body was good for the swift dash, but not for a sus-
tained sprint. Better, he thought, to take a rest. He se-
lected a rock with a flat surface and bounded up onto
it without conscious calculation. From there he moved
daintily from one stone to another, heading for one that
was about a foot higher than its neighbors. When he
was within a couple of feet of it, his hind legs coiled

182 + JOHN LEE

beneath him. The muscles bunched and released, pro-
pelling him into the air. He landed precisely, turned
around twice and curled up, tail around his nose.

He drowsed, consciousness rising from time to time
to take stock of his surroundings, his ears moving to
monitor the area. His nose twitched. There was some-
thing interesting upwind. The ears turned. Minute
scratchings. Food, said the nose. The eyes slitted open-
Somewhere ahead, down in the jumble of weathered
stone slabs, there was prey. Jarrod rolled to his stom-
ach, front paws ahead, hind legs beneath his body. All
his senses strained. His tail twitched in anticipation. He
got up with deceptive slowness, arching his neck and
unsheathing his claws. His eyes scanned the terrain and
his nose quested into the breeze. Nothing to be seen,
but there must be hundreds of passageways between the
rocks. He would have to hope that the creature came
out onto the surface—or could be forced out.

He would hunt it. There was no question about that.
Vole, his nose supplied, two of them. The cold fever of
the chase was already coursing through his veins, en-
ergizing everything. He felt much the way he did before
he performed Magic- Everything had a special clarity. He
jumped down from his vantage point and crouched,
head thrust forward, tail lashing. He knew the direction
and had a good idea of the probable distance. He darted
forward, over and around, and then stopped. He took
a few, careful paces more and stopped again, head up,
ears forward, every fiber alert. Over there, just behind
that protruding block.

His mind charted the best course of approach, using
what cover there was. He was downwind, but there was
no sense in taking the risk of being seen. He moved
forward, almost prancingly, shoulders hunched, head
low, and then darted into a patch of shadow. The voles
had moved to their left, closer to the comer of the block.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 183

The scent of them was strong. His tongue flicked out
across his lips. He moved forward at a rapid trot, step-
ping lightly; no sound, no vibrations. He reached the
lee side of a chunk of stone and slunk into the shadow,

Immobile now, watching, waiting. Patience holding
all his instincts in check. If they are on the surface, they
will come around that comer; if they are below, they
could pop up anywhere. The tail twitched. Too many
possibilities. Watch, wait, infinitely patient. He crouched
there, single-minded, focusing on the terrain, interpret-
ing the information that his nose and ears were bringing
him, prepared to move in an instant. The human part
of him marveled at the level of concentration and rev-
eled in the feeling of being completely alive.

There was a blur at the comer of his vision and all
his senses switched to it. A small brown head with
round, shiny, black eyes and a quiver of whiskers. Ma-
ture, male vole, fast on its feet, very sharp teeth. The
identification was instantaneous- Slowly, and with great
caution,^ the little creature emerged. It sat up on its hind
legs and its head moved quickly back and forth as it
gauged the dangers and the possibilities for food. Not
yet, Jarrod thought. Absolutely still. Satisfied, the vole
dropped to all fours and pattered forward, looking for
seeds, or lizards.

Jarrod exploded from his hiding place, feet moving
effortlessly, back legs thrusting. The vole had begun to
turn to flee. Too slow. The intervening distance evap-
orated and Jarrod struck it hard at the base of the skull
and whirled around in time to see it tumble across the
cracked stone. Mine! he shouted soundlessly, glee and
triumph mingling. Mine!

The animal was dazed and struggling to get to its feet.
Jarrod pounced lightly to stop it getting up. Mine! He
batted at it with is left paw. The vole battled its way up
and took a couple of wavering step. Jarrod waited for

184 + JOHN LEE

a moment and then caught.it in a single bound, teeth
nipping precisely into the loose skin of the neck. He
tossed it into the air. Mine! Mine! Mine! Joy flooded
through him.

The vole was up again and Jarrod pounced once
more, coming down beside it, and then bucked into the
air, legs straight, back arched, bouncing slightly on the
landing. The vole was frozen. Jarrod crouched and
watched his prey intently. Not dead, not trying to es-
cape either, just stunned or shocked. In a little while it
would try again. More fun. Perhaps, he thought, I'll kill
it the next time. There's another one around here some-
where.

The casual thought jolted Jarrod's human side. He
had been swept away and submerged by his feline in-
stincts, but the time had come to reassert himself. He
had done all too good a Job in this shape-changing.
Food, said the cat half stubbornly. By need of hunger
and right of capture, by the law that governs the wild.
Jarrod fought back and made himself sit up. The vole,
startled out of its inactivity, or sensing a chance for
freedom, made a dash for a crevice in the rock. Reflex
took over and the cat pounced, but Jarrod, fighting with
equal stubbornness, forced it to land short of the little
animal, which scurried into safety. Jarrod prowled an-
grily about, tail lashing, furious with himself and re-
lieved all at one and the same time.

Cats are not ones to dwell on the past, and the pacing
became boring. The levels of excitement and energy had
ebbed. It was time, he decided, to return to the others.
He paused to spray the rock to mark the place as his.
The sun was directly overhead now and the footing was
becoming uncomfortably hot. Time to find some shade
and wait for the work to be finished. Besides, there
would be less temptation to hunt where there were men
and horses milling around. To say nothing of the fact

THE UNICORN PEACE + 185

that any prospective prey would have been frightened
off long since. He wasn't at all sure that he would be
able to refrain from killing the next time. Not if he was
truly hungry.

The site, when he saw it again, had been transformed
into a place of giant stacks. He hoped that when he was
restored to human form they would look iess daunting.
The carts and wagons were gone, but he could hear men
talking over to the west. He walked around the clus-
tered kegs of nails, the stacks of crisscrossed wooden
beams and the squat towers of sacking. No harder to
transport, he supposed, than the masses of stone that
Nastrus had already dealt with, but formidable never-
theless.

He made his way to the outer edge of the compound
and, when the humans were in sight, he sprawled in the
shadow of a rectangle of tie beams and settled down for
a nap. It took a while, Jarrod-the-cat had no exact no-
tion of how long a while, for the men to finish drinking,
climb aboard their wagons and drive off, leaving dust
hanging in the air. Moresby Yarrow stood by the re-
maining cart with Jarrod's horse still tethered to the
back and watched the convoy disappear. Then he turned
and shaded his eyes with his hand.

"Eminence!" he bellowed. "Courtak!"

Jarrod sauntered out into the sunlight.

"Oh, there you are."

Jarrod could tell that the man was embarrassed to be
talking to a cat who was also a Mage. He could smell
it.

"Well, they're gone," Yarrow continued unnecessar-
ily, "so, if you want to make your change, go ahead."

Jarrod sat back on his haunches and cleaned his
whiskers for the last time. He felt a strange reluctance
to abandon this body that was so much more supple
than his own, so much quicker in reaction. Still, duty

186 + JOHN LEE

required. He tamped down his cat reactions and cen-
tered himself. He became oblivious of his surroundings,
half-regretful of the need, and then he began the task
of transformation.

Moresby watched, fascinated and repelled, as the
large, sleek white cat lost its fur. Its naked limbs elon-
gated and the joints seemed to slip into new positions.
It stood up on its hind legs and began to grow. The
shoulders broadened and became square, the ears
shrank and lost their peaks, the nose lost its snubbed
look and the skin took on a more normal shade. The
changes took time, but eventually a tall, youngish man
stood before him, hairless except for eyebrows. Hair
began to sprout under the arms, at the crotch and on
the chest, dusted along arms and legs and finally cov-
ered the scalp.

"Welcome back. Excellence," Yarrow said. "That was
quite a demonstration." He turned away and fetched
Jarrod's clothes from the saddlebag.

"Thank you, Moresby," Jarrod said, relieved that his
voice sounded normal. "If there's any of that ale left,
I'd appreciate some. I'm parched. If there's any food
around, I'd appreciate that too. These transformations
use up a lot of energy and I'm feeling a bit wobbly."

"At once, Excellence."

Yarrow was still nervous, though Jarrod could no lon-
ger smell it on him. Understandable, really; most laics
were uncomfortable around Magicians. On the other
hand, Jarrod reflected as he waited for the ale, Greygor
had taken the transformation in his stride. Perhaps, living
in the capital, he had become inured-to the sight of Ma-
gicians.

Clothes felt a little strange to Jarrod but the food and
the ale tasted wonderful. Better, he thought with a
shudder, than raw vole. He wiped his mouth and took
the tankard back to the cart before returning to the

THE UNICORN PEACE + 187

stacks of material. They did, indeed, look smaller than-
they had previously, but there were still an awful lot of
them. He counted his steps while his eyes calculated the
volume of space that he would have to encompass. An-
other part of his mind was turning over the applicable
spells.

The simpler the better, he decided. He glanced up at
the Causeway to make sure he was not observed before
walking out toward the plain to survey the whole area.
He looked it over, committing it to memory, and then
he closed his eyes. He took a number df deep breaths
which, in his present, depleted state, made him feel light-
headed. He ignored it and summoned up the neatly
arranged stacks. A slight change in the refractive prop-
erties of the surfaces should be sufficient. He reached
out with his mind and made the adjustments, moving
from wood to cloth and on to the metal bands around
the kegs. He drew another long breath and opened his
eyes. There was a hazy shimmer in front of him. He
could still make out the lines of the individual piles, but
his eyes kept sliding away.

He nodded to himself in satisfaction. It was enough
to make any casual pilferer think twice, but not enough,
perhaps, to deter a determined thief. He turned and be-
gan to pace the bounds, laying down a basic warding
spell, much as he had when he had accompanied the
royal party back to Stronta after that fateful conclave
at Celador. He completed the semicircle and sighed.
What an innocent he had been then. He looked up and
saw Yarrow watching him.

"Would you mind walking forward as if you were
going to inspect the lumber?" he called.

Yarrow waved to show that he had understood and
started off, arms swinging. Fifteen feet from the edge of
the shimmering he stopped sharply and swore. He
nursed his left hand.

188 + JOHN LEE

"What did you feel?" Jarrod asked as he approached.
"Something stung my hand," the mason said sullenly.
"My fingers are all numb."

"Good. That's what is supposed to happen. Don't
worry about your hand- The numbness will wear off
very quickly. It's a spell we use to protect campsites-
It's designed to keep out wild animals."

"And I'm sure it works very well," Yarrow said,
moving his fingers gingerly. "How long will it last?"
"About a sennight, unless there are thunderstorms."
"And how long before you move the stuff?"
"That depends on the unicorn," Jarrod said.
"Oh aye, the unicorn. I'd managed to forget about
the unicorn." He looked at Jarrod rather wistfully and
said, *'I suppose there's going to be a lot more of this
kind of thing when we get to the other side."

Jarrod put his arm around the man's shoulders, partly
to reassure him, but mostly because he was feeling weak
again. "I'm afraid so," he said.

chapteR 18

good night's sleep restored Jarrod's vigor, and
his spirits were further lifted by the news that Nastrus
was back in the stables. He hurried down after break-
fast and, as he strode through the archway, he felt the
special pleasure that contact between their two minds
brought. He realized anew how much he had missed
that peculiar communion.

'And it's good to see you too,' Nastrus said as Jarrod
came into the stall.

Jarrod walked over and put his arms around the uni-
corn's neck and then scratched him behind the ears.
'Did you have a good holiday?' he asked.

7 went back to the Island to be with my own kind for
a while, see how my offspring are doing. It was good to
be back, but even there I couldn 't get away from you
humans.'

'How so?'
'The other you was in the territory.' Nastrus said la-
conically.

It made sense, Jarrod thought. The Guardian's crea-
tion had been given his memories and the unicorns were
a very prominent part of them.

'How is he?'

'Physically, he appears to be healthy and he said that
the Guardian treats him well.'

'You communicated?'

'Oh indeed.' Irritation and amused tolerance mingled

190 t JOHN LEE

in the thought. 'He wanted to know everything that had
happened since you left and all about Marianna. though
there was precious little that I could tell him about her.'

'The poor man must be feeling lonely,' Jarrod thought
back, trying to suppress his own feelings on the subject
of Marianna.

" Yes and no,' Nastrus replied. 'The Guardian has pro-
vided him with another Marianna. but it seems that she
does not equal the original in his mind.'

'Ah.' Jarrod didn't know what to think.

'Yes, he wanted me to bring him back to Strand with
me.'

Sudden panic welled up in Jarrod, much to the uni-
corn's amusement. 'You didn't, did you?' His anxiety was
plain to see.

'Don't worry. The Guardian has imposed a ban.'

'A good thing too,' Jarrod said, relieved. 'Itwould cre-
ate terrible complications here.'

'Especially now that you have tupped her,' Nastrus said
slyly.

Jarrod gave him a warning look. 7 suppose he still
looks like me?' he asked for want of anything better to
say.

'Outwardly absolutely, but I can tell you apart. You
think the same way, but the patterns are different.'

'Well, I'm glad you had a good time. I just hope that
you are rested, because we have an important job ahead
of us,' Jarrod said, changing the subject. 7 really need
your help with this one.'
'Yes, I know,' Nastrus returned smugly. 'Your
thoughts are full of it.'

'D'you think that you can do it?'

'I can't say. It's never been done before, has it?'

'No, it hasn't, and it is a massive undertaking,' Jarrod
admitted.

Nastrus produced the equivalent of a sigh. 'You 'd bet-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 191

ter let me deeper into your mind,' he said. 'It 'II be quicker
that way.'

Jarrod closed his eyes in acquiescence and felt the
thrust and the uncomfortable sense of fullness as Nas-
trus went through his memories. It was a relief when
the unicorn withdrew.

'Can you do it?' he asked, half fearful that the answer
would be no.

'If I had enough time,' Nastrus replied, 'but it's you
humans that are the problem. There isn 't enough fodder
for you in those mountains. Now, if you were sensibly
constructed and could eat grass, there would be no prob-
lem, but as it is .. .'He let the thought die out.

Jarrod's shoulders sagged and he went and sat on the
edge of the water trough. All that effort for nothing.
All the designs, all that planning, all those materials, all
wasted.

Nastrus moved over to him and nudged his shoulders
with his muzzle. 7 may be the only unicorn on Strand,'
he said, 'but I'm not the only unicorn. I have colts, well,
most of them are full-grown, who just browse their way
around the territory waiting for the next rut. The part of
me that loves to explore and try new things just doesn't
seem to have transmitted itself to them. It would do them
good to get off the Island. It's time that they contributed
something to the Memory.'

Jarrod looked up, hope flaring.

'First thing we have to do,' Nastrus continued, 'is to
get that pile of stuff that you 've accumulated to the proper
place, with food at the bottom of the mountain and at the
place where you intend to build. No animal flesh, mind. I
suppose I shall have to transport the three of you, but
then I'll go and fetch my idle foals and we can get to
work.'

'You really think they'll come?' Jarrod asked hesi-
tantly.

192 t JOHN LEE
'Just you leave that to me,' Nastrus said. Tm a very
successful sire'—there was no way the pride behind that
statement could be ignored— 'and I've got a considerable
number of offspring to choose from.'

'I'm enormously grateful,' Jarrod said.

7 know you are, and you have every right to be.' Nas-
trus replied, leavening the statement with a trace of hu-
mor. He turned and ambled back to the hay rack and
began to munch.

The transfer began before dawn the following mom-
ing so that there would be no onlookers. Jarred rode
Nastrus out through the Causeway at the Stronta Gate,
surprising the guard, but provoking no challenge. Once
the light from the lifted lantern disclosed a Mage and a
unicorn, they were hastily waved through. Rank, Jarred
thought, has its advantages.

They took a wide, circling approach, and the gallop
through the numinous dark left Jarrod exhilarated and
anxious to Make the Day. Once the rite was over. Jar-
rod suspended the warding and then concentrated on
his memory of the terrain revealed in ha dream. The
fear that he had felt that night had left a clear imprint
of the surroundings, but it had, after all, been a dream.
Better, he thought, to check it out than risk losing all
the carefully acquired, not to mention expensive, ma-
terial stacked behind them. It was one thing to use it as
a destination for stone, but quite another when it came
to human beings.

Tm prepared to risk it if you are,' Nastrus answered
him before he had posed the question.

Jarrod remounted and the unicorn turned to face the
Alien Plain. Jarrod concentrated fiercely on the remem-
bered area at the base of the foothills before the grey
of Interim extinguished all thought.

'Come on, wake up, wake up, wake up. We've work to
do.'

THE UNICORN PEACE + 193

Nastrus' insistent sending roused Jarrod. He sat up
slowly and looked around. The foothills and the peaks
above them were as he had hoped they would be, that
was clear to him even in the weak light and early-
moming haze. It had been something more than a mere
dream then. He felt a sense of relief. He had thought as
much but, as one not given to visions, he had not been
certain. He peered up the mountain slopes expecting to
see a spectral outline of the castle, a castle far more
solid since his work with Greygor on the plans, but
there was nothing.

'If you're finished eating, I'm ready to go back,' he
thought out at Nastrus.

'Just be patient,' the unicorn responded. 'There won't
be anything decent to crop on the other end and there's a
great deal of stuff to be moved.'

'Well, while you're doing that, I'm going up to see if
there really is a proper place to build,' Jarrod said be-
latedly,

'It will be quicker if I take you. Just give me a little
while longer,' Nastrus replied, blunt teeth ripping up the
grass.

It took them an hour to find the place. It would have
taken Jarrod more than a day. When they came upon
it, it was obvious that this must be the place, though
there' was no overt indication. They explored thor-
oughly and found a cave that led through the cliffs at
the back into a broad valley with a lake in the center.
The water was sweet and they both drank thirstily. Sat-
isfied, they returned to the Causeway and began trans-
ferring the material and supplies. That took them two
more days, and though Jarrod only used his mind, he
felt, when he crawled into bed at night, as if he had
used every muscle in his body. When it was over, he
took two days off to do nothing but eat and sleep, much

194 + JOHN LEE

to the consternation of his Duty Boy. On the sixth day,
he rode into town in search of his partners.

"Well, gentlemen," he said after finding a cat-free
chair and accepting a mug of chai, "the task is finally
upon us. I've already sent the material over, together
with food, tools, cooking pots and whatever basic ne-
cessities I could think of." He smiled. "I was relieved
to find that most of the stone from the Giants' Cause-
way that Nastrus had sent in that direction did, in fact,
land close enough to be used. We rearranged it as best
we could. Now it's your turn. You have a day to pack,
one saddlebag each, and be sure to wear as much warm
clothing as you can for the trip through Interim,"

"I can't say as I like the idea of this voyage through
nothing," Yarrow grumbled.

"Oh, come on, Moresby," Greygor said brightly,
"where's your sense of adventure?"

"In the pit of my stomach," Yarrow retorted. "I deal
in solid things, stone, wood and metal. It's you archi-
tects that live in a fantasy world. A thousand leagues
in the time it takes to hiccup may be nothing to you,
but to me it's plain unnatural."

"I shall accompany each of you," Jarrod cut in
soothingly. "You shall come to no harm, I promise.
You'll be weak for a while afterward and you'll be ex-
tremely hungry, but that's all. We've firewood and food
and water on the other side and there are plenty of
blankets."

"Easy for you to say, you're a Magician." Yarrow
was unmollified.

"If an old man like me can do it, a strapping great
lad like you should have no problem," Greygor said
teasingly.

"•Well you haven't done it yet, have you?" Yarrow
objected. He looked across at Jarrod and caught the
expression on the Mage's face. "Don't fret," he said

THE UNICORN PEACE + 195

dourly, "I'll not back out, but I have my doubts and
I'm not afraid to admit it.'*

"I think that's the best way to approach things," Jar-
rod said diplomatically. "I really am counting on the
two of you. Without you, the project cannot happen,
so you can rest assured that I shall make certain that
you come to no harm." He got to his feet and returned
his mug to the table.

"Now," he said, "we'll meet outside the Outpost walls
just after dawn tomorrow. I'll have a groom with me
who will take your horses back to the stables. They'll
be well taken care of until you return. Any questions?
No? All right then, until tomorrow. Oh, and get a good
night's sleep."

In the event, all went smoothly. He took the Master
Mason through first and then went back for Chatham
Greygor. He himself was chilled after the trips, but not
unduly weakened. His tolerance of Interim was evi-
dently growing. He made a fire and put on a pot of
soup. Then he waited for the two men to regain con-
sciousness.

They were cold and groggy when they woke and they
both complained about their weakness and their hun-
ger. The soup and some of the bread that Jarrod had
taken from the Outpost's kitchen after Making the Day
did much to restore them. The peace and beauty of their
surroundings had an equally beneficial effect and, by
midafternoon, they had walked slowly up the hillside to
gain a better view. Nastrus stayed down on the plain
gorging himself on the long, lush grass.

Jarrod was   up before dawn, as usual. He walked to
the top of   the first hill and Made the Day with a calm
mind and a   high heart, happy to be establishing the age-
old ritual   in this new, unspoiled place. He was planting
continuity   and bringing the Discipline and all it stood
for to its   future home. When the rite was finished, he

196 1- JOHN LEE
rose, feeling profoundly satisfied, and made his way
back down to where the others still slept. He brought
the fire back to life and put on a pot of water for chai.

After a breakfast of bread and honeycomb, the little
party loaded packs and set out on the climb. Nastrus
was nowhere to be seen, but no one made any mention
of it. The day was clear and the breeze was cool, bring-
ing a scent of grass from the east. That in itself was
unusual. In controlled regions the wind almost always
came from the south. Here, of course, they were well
beyond the range of the Weatherwards. Jarrod was glad
that he had thought to leave the makings of a shelter
up above.

The mountain rose in a series of folds, the dips be-
tween liberally supplied with ponds and lakelets. The
first slope was gentle and Greygor chatted happily as
they walked. The successive gradients were steeper,
though. The pace slowed and the talking stopped. They
paused at midday and again two hours later. Greygor's
face was bright red and the stolid Yarrow was mopping
his forehead. Jarrod's longer legs were an advantage
when going uphill and he had to continually rein him-
self in, but, seeing his companions' distress, he called
an early halt.

They spent the second night beside a long finger of
water with the crest of the hill they had Just climbed
affording some protection from the wind, which was
now coming straight across the plain. It was good that
it did for there was no wood for a fire. The hills were
dotted with saplings, but there was nothing suitable for
burning. They ate cold provisions, drank sweet water
from the pond and slept early.

The morning climb was the steepest yet and, from the
climbers' vantage point, there was nowhere up ahead
that was remotely suitable for a castle. Indeed, beyond
this long, steep rise, all that could be seen was a daunt-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 197

ing expanse of cliff. Jarrod knew what lay up there, but
he wanted them to discover the place for themselves, to
come upon it unexpectedly as he had. There were clouds
today, though there did not seem to be a threat of rain,
and the wind was at their backs. They seemed to climb
faster than they had the day before, and Jarrod sur-
mised that the lingering effects of Interim had been ban-
ished, By midmoming the going had become so steep
that they were using their hands to pull themselves up.
Jarrod called a halt at the mouth of a gully that cut into
an almost sheer face. He broke out the water sack.

"You sure you know where you're going?" Yarrow
asked after be had taken a drink and passed the flask
on.
"We're almost there, trust me,'* Jarrod said as he tried
to find a comfortable place to sit. "This last part will
be a bit of a scramble, but it will be worth it, I promise
you."

Moresby Yarrow gave him a skeptical look, but held
his tongue.

*'0h, I certainly hope so," Greygor said, unslinging
his pack and rubbing the small of his back. "I, for one,
will be glad when this climbing is over. I'm not as young
as I used to be and, today, I'm getting older by the
hour. These boots feel as if they have lead soles.'

"You've done wonderfully well, both of you," Jarrod
said. "I suggest we rest for a few minutes and then tackle
the gully. It goes up diagonally and it isn't as steep as
the bit we've just climbed. Be a little careful where you
put your feet though: there's some loose scree that can
be treacherous and this is no time to twist an ankle."

They sat for a while watching the shadows of the
clouds chase across the rippling sea of grass, and then
Jarrod got to his feet. The other two rose reluctantly
and shouldered their packs.

"I'll go first," Greygor said. "That way I can go at

198 + JOHN LEE

my own speed and, if I fall, I'll have something soft to
land on." His feeble attempt at humor was lost on Yar-
row, but Jarrod was grateful to him for making the
effort.

The architect turned and disappeared into the cut,
and Yarrow, with a look over his shoulder, followed.
Jarrod brought up the rear. One of the advantages that
Greygor hadn't mentioned was that, as the first man
up, he didn't have to dodge the bouncing pebbles that
were dislodged. The light in the gully was dim and the
walls intensified the sounds of labored breathing and
Yarrow's occasional curse when a stone found its mark.

"By all the gods!" Greygor's voice was sudden and
shrill with surprise.

Jarrod stopped and peered up around Yarrow. He
feared the worst, but Greygor had reached the top. His
head and shoulders were clear and his elbows were on
level ground.

"What's the matter?" Yarrow called, fear evident in
his voice.

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Quite to the contrary. Just
come on up." Greygor was clearly excited and Jarrod
was pleased that the place he had chosen or that had
been chosen for him, had had the effect that he had
hoped for.
Greygor's feet scrabbled for purchase, sending dirt
cascading down, and then he thrust himself up and out
of sight- He was back an instant later, leaning forward
and offering Yarrow a helping hand. Jarrod pressed on
up the final few yards and hauled himself out of the
cleft. He looked up from his hands and knees and saw
the backs of his companions as they contemplated the
grassy plateau that had been hidden from sight. That
he had expected. What he had not expected to see was
a group of seven unicorns grazing peacefully.

Nastrus tossed his head and whinnied in greeting be-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 199

fore trotting over. His mind radiated satisfaction. Yar-
row and Greygor stood as if rooted. Jarrod stood up
and dusted himself off. He was aware of the mental
presence of the other unicorns, knew that they were
making up for the deprivations caused by the long trip
through Interim, but the only thoughts that were clear
came from Nastrus.

'They have no practice in communicating with humans,'
he said in Jarrod's mind, 'but we can try it if you like.'

'They're loo busy eating,' Jarrod said, 'but I'm de-
lighted to see them. I must say that this is something of
a surprise.'

'It was meant to be.' Nastrus was complacent.

'I felt no trace of you while I was coming up the gully.'

'I knew you were there and I kept my thoughts very
still. •

'They're a very handsome bunch,' Jarrod said. 'Are
they all yours?'

'They are some of mine.'

'Well please tell them that my friends and I welcome
them to Strand and are extremely pleased to see them.
In the meantime, I think I'd better see to my human com-
panions. This seems to have been a bit of a shock for
them.'

The two men turned as Jarrod came up to them.

"They're quite magnificent," Greygor said, shaking
his head slightly in wonderment.

"Aye, that they are," Yarrow agreed, his distrust of
unicorns seemingly aside. "Is this where they come
from?"

"No, no it's not. Nastrus brought them here. They're
all descendants of his."
"And Nastrus would b&this one closest to us," Grey-
gor said. He smiled apologetically. "It's difficult to tell.
They all look alike to me."

Nastrus, reading the statement in Jarrod's mind,

200 + JOHN LEE

snorted. 'They're nothing alike. Only two of them come
from the same dam and one of them is white and the other
cream. Quite different.'

'Make allowance for the fact that they're humans,' Jar-
rod said.

Nastrus harrumphed and trotted back to his brood
and Jarrod turned his attention back to the other two.
"So, what do you think of my site?" he asked.

They looked around, taking note of their surround-
ings for the first time. What they saw was a broad and
uneven hemisphere of grass, dotted with yellow flowers.
The cliff loomed tall at the back and tapered down as
it approached the edge of the plateau. The area en-
closed was about half a mile deep and three quarters of
a mile wide.

"Plenty of room for a castle," Greygor said.

"Doesn't seem to be a water supply," from Yarrow,

"No need for a curtain wall and, besides, it would
block off that extraordinary view." Greygor.

"Machicolations wouldn't be a bad idea if we could
anchor them, but how are they going to feed people?
You can't lug everything up from the plain." That last
from Yarrow.

Jarrod's head was going back and forth from one to
the other. It's like talking with the unicorns, he thought,
everything comes at once. He held up a finger. "That's
my next surprise," he said. "There's a cave at the bot-
tom of that cliff." He pointed toward the back wall.
"You can't see it now because the unicorns are in the
way. It opens into a big cavern and there's a passage
out of there that gives onto a fairly substantial valley
that runs east-west. The main mountain rises directly
from the other side. There's a big lake—that could be
stocked with fish someday—and there's enough land for
fields and grazing. We can have a look later, but now
I'd rather like to get something to eat." He pointed

THE UNICORN PEACE + 201

again. "The supplies are over there, up against that low
part of the cliff."

It took a sennight to get organized. The outlines of
the central building and its two forward-slanting wings
were drawn in the earth, slabs of stone were selected
and moved by the unicorns from the plain to the pla-
teau. Procedures were discussed, first between the hu-
mans, then between Jarrod and Nastrus and lastly
between Nastrus and the other unicorns. Finally the day
to start the actual building came.

Jarrod breakfasted on an infusion of simples that he
had brought with him. They would ease the strain of
the constant lifting he would do. They made him feel
confident and clearheaded- The rows of stone across the
front of the plateau were made up of blocks of roughly
equal size. Once the blocks were lifted, each unicorn
knew exactly where to deposit them, or at least that was
the theory. Now they would see how well it worked in
practice.

Jarrod took up his position behind the first block of
stone. The younger unicorns were ranged behind him,
their father off to one side. Greygor and Yarrow stood
in the doorway of the lean-to that served as their sleep-
ing place. The architect kept unrolling his plans, peering
at them and letting them roll up again. The Magician
closed his eyes and girded his concentration. The potion
made it easy. He opened his eyes and the first block
lifted into the air. It flew to its appointed place and
settled gently between the lines. The second rose and,
almost immediately, settled beside the first. Jarrod
moved on down the line and, as he did so, the first
unicorn peeled off, trotted behind his kin and Joined
the far end of the line. They kept it up for four hours,
long enough for the first course to be laid, with gaps
for the doorways and circular protrusions for the tow-

202 t JOHN LEE

ers at each comer and either side of what would be the
central door. The only thing the unicorns had trouble
with were the footings for the towers, and that was soon
corrected.

As soon as the unicorns went off to graze, the two
builders hurried to inspect the work. Jarrod walked
slowly back to the hut and drank a dipper of water. He
wasn't tired, but he was hungry and thirsty and he
wanted to sit down for a while. The two men came back
to where he sat.

"Very neatly done," Yarrow commented. "The blocks
are snugly butted."

"It looked very strange," Greygor added, "all those
great big chunks of stone floating around, but I must
say that they're all right between the lines." He turned
to his companion. "How long, d'you reckon, Moresby,
it would take you to get an outline of this size laid?"

"With a good crew, and everything going right, about
four days. Mind you, that'd include the mortar."
"And you did it in four hours, Jarrod. Quite remark-
able."

"Let's remember, Chatham, that I had some very
effective help," Jarrod said with a smile-

"Aye, that's the pity about all this," Yarrow re-
marked. "Here I am, Master Mason for an important
project, one of the largest buildings in the last hundred
years, and I've got a crew that no one would believe if
I told them, and the building itself won't be seen for
another hundred years, like as not."

"We'll leave an inscription, cut so deep that it'll be
clear reading in five hundred years. 'Chatham Greygor,
Architect; Moresby Yarrow, Master Mason. They made
this place with the help of unicorns,' " Jarrod said with
a laugh. "But in the meantime, Chatham, would you
put a small pot of water in the embers? I'm going to
make myself another potion."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 203

The work resumed in about an hour and it went faster
than before. By evening there were three tiers of stone.
The next day added another three and they could have
started on the seventh row, but Jarrod called an early
halt. Greygor came over, worry in the lines of his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. It's just that I'm going to perform a ritual
tonight. Tomorrow I intend to perform some magic."

"I see," Greygor's mouth twitched into a crooked
little smile. "I confess that I thought that the whole
thing was going to be done in an instant. You'd study
my plans, stand out there with your arms raised, say a
spell in a voice that rolled like thunder, and presto"—
he waved his hands—"a castle."

"Wouldn't that be nice," Jarrod said. "Unfortunately
it doesn't work that way. Magic has a strict set of laws
and, contrary to popular opinion, there's a limit to what
it can do—at least all at the same time. No, tomorrow
I'm going to try to solve Moresby's mortar problem.
It'll be tricky and it will need a lot of control." He
shrugged his shoulders. "I can get power from the uni-
corns, but the control has to come from me."

"Is there anything that Moresby and I can do?"

"Not a thing. It's a rite of purification and I've done
it dozens of times."

"Pity," Greygor said succinctly. "There doesn't seem
to be anything we can do these days."

"Just you wait. Who d'you think is going to fit the
joists when we get to them? And lay the floors, and of
course there's the hammer-beam ceiling to the Great
Hall."

Greygor threw up his hands. "Enough. I'd better start
taking some of those potions."

That evening, as he had done so many times before,
Jarrod laid out the lines of a double pentacle, prepared
the three beakers, and spent the night, naked, en-

204 + JOHN LEE

tranced, in the middle of the inner pentacle. When he
emerged from his suspended state in the velvet dark,
the lines of the pentacle were still glowing, their light
turned into rainbows by the prisms ofdewdrops. Jarrod
extinguished the faery glitter with his mind and made
his way back to the remnants of the fire to retrieve the
third beaker. The liquid was still warm and it dispelled
the chill in his bones. He felt strong, vibrant and
cleansed.

When he returned to the shelter after Making the
Day, he found the other two men up, despite the fact
that first light had yet to bloom. The fire, made from
some of the beams that had been damaged in transit,
blazed merrily.

"Morning, Jarrod," Yarrow said. He eyed the Ma-
gician's robe that Jarrod had donned for the first time
since leaving Stronta and added, "Or should it be
'Morning, Mage'?"

The Magician smiled. " 'Jarrod* will be fine." He took
a mug of chai from Greygor and sipped it apprecia-
tively. The other two stood and watched him. "You
want to know what I'm going to do, don't you?" They
nodded, "Well, we're up to the level of the first set of
windows, arrow slits really since the ground floor is to
be used for storage and workshops and stables and
ought to be easily defensible, so I thought it was time
to see if I could fuse the stone so that the walls will be
weathertight. I shall need to be looking down on the
whole thing so that everything comes out as level as
possible. So, when the light is good enough, I'm going
to climb along the top of the cliffs until I find a decent
vantage point. The unicorns have been told to stay well
back and the same applies to you. I can't afford to have
anything distracting going on down here."

"You can rely on us," Greygor said.

At the seventh hour, Jarrod shucked his sandals,

THE UNICORN PEACE + 205

hitched his gown up, secured it with the rope that served
him as a belt and climbed up the short face of the cliff
at the point nearest the edge of the plateau. From there
he made his way on all fours along the crest, working
his way backward and upward. The sun was to his right,
and that made it difficult to see what lay to the east.
Below him, to his left, Nastrus kept pace and provided
him with a running, and occasionally ribald, commen-
tary on how he looked from below. Finally Jarrod
reached a spot where a portion of the cliff face had split
away, leaving a broad ledge. He scrambled down to it
and turned to face the enclosed region beneath him.

He felt strong and secure. The final potion was swirl-
ing pleasantly through him, buoying him up. He looked
down and saw that portions of the foundations were in
shadow. It would make no difference; the outlines were
clear enough. Seen from above it was obvious that it
was going to be an impressive building. He would need
to project himself over the center to be sure that the
work was uniform, but that should be no problem. He
would not need Nastrus' support for that part, but some
extra power would be helpful.

'I'm here whenever you need me,' the unicorn reas-
sured him. 'The colts are over by the lip watching, but
they won't get involved—they don't know how.' Nastrus
was proud of the ability that experience had brought
him and pleased that he had a talent that the younger
generation lacked. It brought a smile to Jarrod's lips.

He banished Nastrus from his mind and stepped to
the front of the ledge. With the potion fortifying him,
he felt none of the twinges of vertigo that occasionally
bedeviled him and stared down at the outline with
equanimity, imprinting it on his mind- He began to
breathe deeply in and out. He began the chant for the
accession of power, and his hands rose automatically as
the energy rose within him. By the time his arms were

206 + JOHN LEE

stretched to the sky, he was floating above the infant
structure.

Pressure, pressure to generate heat, to make stone
run, to fill the crevices. He gathered his strength and,
holding the whole in his mind, pressed down. The stone
resisted. He increased the gravity of his persona,
spreading himself out to cover the whole area. He sum-
moned more power and pressed himself down. The rock
yielded fractionally, compressing in on itself, beginning
to flake at the edges. Jarrod summoned the heart of fire,
the white heat of the banked ember, and applied it del-
icately along the running length of walls. The stone be-
gan to glow, rock began to run.

Gently, Jarrod thought to himself, gently. He eased
the pressure and felt, rather than saw, the stone slow
and solidify. He willed himself lower so that he could
see more clearly. There was a sheen to the surfaces,
almost a slick polish, and the outer sides appeared to
be one smooth surface. It had worked. It had been easy.
His choice of spell had been right and, as far as he could
judge, the overall height of the walls was only down by
an inch or so. The exertion hadn't tired him, far from
it. It had been quick and easy and he had all this energy
stored in him. It would be a criminal shame to waste it.
The plans that Greygor had drawn and that he had
pored over for so long came into his mind. He had told
the architect that Magic didn't work that way, but, given
the circumstances, he could surely use his power for
more than this.

Nastrus intruded into his concentration. 7 see what
you intend and we will help you if you decide to proceed.
If you can hold the plan in mind and lift the stone on the
plain, we will place it for you.'

'Done,' Jarrod replied without hesitation.

What followed terrified and amazed Greygor and
Yarrow, crouched against the cliff beside the shelter.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 207

First, three of the unicorns disappeared, and then blocks
of stone began to fly through the air. That was not a
new sight, as such, and they had become inured to the
presence of unicorns, but what overwhelmed them was
the sheer volume of the performance. A second thick-
ness was added to the outer walls, with openings for
fireplaces and spaces for chimneys. Piers appeared in
double rows and, as they watched, developed branching
vaults, the stone tendrils growing as if they were trained
along wires. Bricks filled in the angles. Interior walls
appeared, and then the upward march of the outer walls
resumed. The burgeoning towers developed interior
channels for the disposal of human waste exactly as the
plans had laid them out. Just when the multiple activi-
ties threatened to daze them into numb acceptance,
there would be a pause when the entire expanse seemed
to shudder and grow a shiny skin.

For Jarrod it was like being the master of a supernal
juggling act. He held Greygor's plans, with all the little
side panels filled with detail, in his mind and made sure
that Nastrus understood them. Another part of his
memory recalled the disposition of materials on the
plain and lofted them as needed so that the younger
unicorns could send them up the mountain. Nastrus
would direct them to their proper place and Jarrod
would then fuse them. The activity was multifarious and
nonstop and Jarrod gloried in it. He held the power
thrumming through him in exquisite check.

The work became simpler when the ground floor was
complete. There could be no more interior building un-
til the beams were in place and the subfloor laid. Jarrod,
drunk with the opportunity to perform in a major way
after so long a hiatus, used the opportunity to embellish
the corbels, create hoodmolds over the windows in the
wings and stone tracery in the those of the Great Hall.
He grew cocky and added an oriel to the solar where

208 + JOHN LEE

there had been none in the plans, tapped into a chimney
and added a fireplace and fused blocks of stone together
to create a curving staircase from the undercroft,
through the east end of the Hall, and on up to the solar.
When he was finished, the battlements were crenellated
and brick chimney stacks, modeled after those at Ce-
lador, sprouted. Others would have to await the com-
pletion of the roof.

The volley of materials slowed to a halt. There was
no more that could be done at this stage. Jarrod was
disappointed; the energy was still strong in his body, he
felt no fatigue. Putting his memory, his mind and his
will to work, he lilted the rest of the material from the
plain and floated it up to the plateau with no assistance

from the unicorns.

'Most impressive,' Nastrus said sardonically when the
last piece was grounded. 'It's time/or you to climb down
now. You may not be tired, but the rest of us are.'

Jarrod returned reluctantly to his body. He allowed
the energy to drain out of him and felt his arms float
down to his sides- The compensatory euphoria rushed
in to take its place, but, for once, it didn't provide the
ultimate pleasure- He had enjoyed functioning at that
high level, felt hugely alive and useful. He opened his
eyes and blinked at the setting sun. Had it really been
that long? He looked down at the shell of the castle and
smiled. It would be nice, he thought, to sit here for a
while and survey his handiwork. He had gone beyond
what he had thought was possible, caught by the frenzy

of creation.                             ».

'You couldn't have done any of this without us,' Nas-
trus reminded him. 'Why don't you climb down while you
still have the strength. You probably look like a prune

with mold on the top.'

'That's what I love about you,' Jarrod thought back
lazily, 'you're always so supportive, so positive.'

THE UNICORN PEACE + 209

By the time Jarrod reached the ground, he was un-
steady, and, from the reaction of the two men, Nastrus
had been close to the mark. He was glad that there was
no looking glass at the camp. He had no memory of
being put to bed, nor of the storm that raged for the
next three days. From then on he took little part in the
completion of the work. He would lift the heavy beams
so that the unicorns could move them. On occasion he
held them aloft while they were fitted into the slots that
Yarrow had chiseled into the walls, but he was capable
of little else. There was a minimum of conversation
around the fire at night because the other two were as
tired as he.

Nevertheless, the work progressed. The details seemed
endless, but, at the end of the fourth sennight, even
Yarrow was convinced that there was no more that they
could do. Jarrod used magic once more. He carved an
inscription in the stone over the main door dedicating
the building to Greylock and giving credit to the archi-
tect, the mason and the unicorns as he had promised
Yarrow that he would. They bade good-bye to the
younger unicorns and, accompanied by Nastrus, made
their way back down to the Alien Plain. It took them a
day and a half. It took a fraction of that time to return
to Stronta.

ChAptGR 19

V

arodias was striding up and down the Presence
Chamber, high heels clacking on the polished wood. He
was dressed all in black, save for an oversized ruff at
the throat and a short fall of lace that covered the join
between sleeve and glove. On a perch beside the throne
a falcon moved uneasily from foot to foot, responding
to its master's mood. Malum stood two paces behind
the Elector of Estragoth and watched his sovereign
crossing through the pools of light thrown by the leaded
windows close to the roof of "the hunting room," as it
was popularly called. It was the first time that he had
been in it, and he found it quite extraordinary. It was
painted to look like a forest glade complete with
branches overhead and leaves upon the floor. As re-
markable, perhaps, was the fact that, apart from the
Emperor, the Elector and he were the only people in
the room. The Emperor stopped and pivoted.

"It is an affront to our national honor, Estragoth.
We are diminished in the eyes of the world." The high
voice was agitated.

"I think not, Your Imperial Majesty," Phalastra re-
plied calmly. "The record will show united resolve on
the part of the Commission to do what was best for
Strand. It was for that reason that I abstained on your
behalf."

"And are we not a laughingstock in the Courts of

THE UNICORN PEACE + 211

Arundel and Paladine?" The Emperor's voice was back
under control, his face a mask with small, slitted eyes.

"No, Sire." Phalastra paused ever so briefly. "Let me
amend that. The courtier rabble undoubtedly gossips,
but the rulers and their councillors are perfectly well
aware that Isphardel has been handed a long and costly
setback. No one likes the economic power of the Is-
phardis and while they will not say so publicly, your
cousins of Paladine and Arundel are delighted to see
that power diminished. The division of the Isphardi ter-
ritories was Your Imperial Majesty's prime objective.
That objective has been achieved."

"They have, however, extracted sureties from Talis-
man and from the Magical Kingdoms." Varodias
walked back to this throne and seated himself. The fal-
con, reassured, ruffled its feathers and settled down.

Phalastra permitted himself a brief, brittle laugh. "In-
ternational guarantees," he said sardonically. "They
could scarcely do otherwise when one considers the
trade concessions that were offered to them, but neither
of the Royal ladies would send troops to Songuard."

"Naxania of Paladine sent troops to Fort Bandor,"
Varodias observed.

"True, Sire, but that was against the Outlanders and
to avenge the massacre of Your Imperial Majesty's gar-
rison. I cannot see her sending men against a brother
monarch in defense of clansmen or Oligarchs."

"There is that," the Emperor conceded. His gloved
hand went out and stroked the bird's poll. "We suppose
that the important thing is that our plan of colonization
can begin. We have already instructed our Rotifer Corps
to survey our lands and to pick the best sites for settle-
ments." His voice had warmed. "There will be no entry
fee for those of our soldiers long since promised land,
but there will be obligations and a new oath of fealty.

212 + JOHN LEE

Estates will be awarded." Varodias produced a small,
satisfied smile. "They will not be cheap."

"Your Imperial Majesty has borne the entire cost of
the development of the rotifer and the research on the
captured battle wagons," the Elector said diplomati-
cally.

"Indeed we have," the Emperor agreed complacently,
and then the mood turned as he added, "Fifteen years
and precious little to show for it. They were a strange
breed, those Outlanders."

He might make better progress, Malum thought, if he
allowed some of the other scientists near them.

Varodias settled back into the throne and the fingers
of the left hand began to dance on the arm. The Elector
knew the sign. Varodias was wearying of the audience.

"We commend you, my Lord Elector," the Emperor
said, "and you too, my Lord of Quem. It seems that
you have performed your long and arduous tasks well
after all."

Both men bowed.

"We suppose, my old friend," he said to Estragoth,
"that we shall have to find some new employment to
keep you from mischief." The accompanying smile, for
once, was genuinely warm.

"Your Imperial Majesty is most kind," Phalastra re-
plied, "but it I may be permitted to crave your indul-
gence?"

The Emperor's eyebrows rose, but he nodded.

"I have served your illustrious father and yourself for
better than five decades and this old flesh grows weary.
I have spent long years away from home of late and I
would as lief spend what years are left to me in Estra-
goth."

Varodias sat up sharply, his eyes wide. "You intend
to abandon us?" His tone was incredulous.

"Ah, my liege lord, I would not have you see it so. I

THE UNICORN PEACE + 213

am an old man and my late embassy has taken me from
your side. There are younger men who have counseled
you in my absence and it is time for me to make way
for them.*' He smiled gently, sweetly. "Have no fear,
Sire," he said as if to a boy, "I shall be your devoted
servant and loyal vassal as long as there is breath in my
body."

Malum listened, his heart suddenly beating faster. It
was not unexpected, but the Elector had given him no
hint.

"We shall have to think on this, old friend," Varo-
dias said quietly. " 'Tis true that you have served our
house long and well, but we were not expecting this and
we are loath to part with you."

"I shall serve you unto death, if that is your will,"
Phalastra said simply, "but if you would reward me, let
me go."

"We shall think on it. You must give us time," Var-
odias replied.

"Should you accede to my request. Sire," Phalastra
said, "I would commend Malum of Quern to your at-
tention. He has served me well. He is loyal, discreet, he
has a good mind and I have trained him."

"We shall think on these things. We shall think on
them," Varodias said with a touch of irritation. The
falcon studiously groomed its wing feathers. "Leave us
now. We need to be alone." The fingers nicked out in
dismissal.

Both men bowed and retreated, backward, from the
presence.

Once they were outside and the doors were closed,
Phalastra nodded to the guards and started off down
the corridor with Malum trailing him. When they were
out of hearing, he stopped and let Malum catch up.
"I'm sorry, lad," he said in the Common Mode, "That
must have come as something of a shock- Truth to tell,

214 t JOHN LEE

I had not intended to bring it up today, but, over the
years, I have developed an instinct when it comes to the
Emperor's moods. When he allowed himself to be con-
vinced of the success of our mission, I seized the op-
portunity. Let us go back to my apartments and discuss
things."

They ensconced themselves in the Elector's withdraw-
ing room. The servants came and went and Malum
sipped his wine silently, trying to put his thoughts in
order. He had been counting on a spell here at Angom
in the Elector's service to give him a better sense of
where the next generation of power truly lay. An ap-
pointment directly to the royal household would, of
course be ideal, but what was he to do if Varodias did
not act on the Elector's suggestion? Fond as he was of
the old man, he wasn't prepared to go into retirement
with him.

"I have spent so many years in these chambers that
they feel as much home to me as my own castle," Phal-
astra said, breaking the silence. "My older boy will
probably want to redecorate them. It shouldn't worry
me because I doubt that I shall ever see them again, but
it does somehow."

"Are you sure that the Emperor will let you go, my
lord? He has depended on you for most of his life and
it didn't seem to me that he relished the prospect of
losing you."

Phalastra smiled. "Varodias hates change, somewhat
strange in a man who prides himself on being a scien-
tist, but true nevertheless. No, he doesn't like the idea,
but he is an intensely pragmatic man. There will be no
emotion involved in the decision despite the years we
have spent together. If he refuses me, it will be because
I am one of the very few, man or woman, that he trusts.
His Majesty does not confide in men, but he trusts me.

"What I did today was to remind him that it is past

THE UNICORN PEACE + 215
time that he found someone to replace me. Neither of
my sons has a head for politics and most of the capable
men at Court would as soon replace him as serve him.
Fear is the only thing that keeps them in their place.
That is why 1 recommended you. If he takes you on, re-
member this: it is not rank that counts, but influence.
A man of modest title with the position of His Imperial
Majesty's secretary excites little envy, but that man has
the Emperor's ear and determines who gets to see him
and when."

"But there is no such position," Malum interjected.

"I took great care that there should not be," Phal-
astra said, "but that is where I should like to see you.
Varodias is an exceedingly volatile man. He needs a
steady hand behind him, someone with the knowledge
of the broader canvas and the skill to manage things
from the shadows."

"You natter me, sir, but I fear that I am as ambitious
as the next man," Malum said with a flash of honesty.
"What makes you think that I would serve the Emperor
so selflessly?" The last was delivered jokingly, but he
was serious.

Phalastra gave him a long, level look and drank some
wine before answering.

"Because you are his son," he said.

Malum had been about to take a drink himself, but
his hand stopped in midair. He stared at the Elector.
His mother had said something of the sort in the days
before she died, but the wasting fever that took her had
first stolen her wits and Malum had dismissed the no-
tion as delirium. He couldn't remember now exactly
what she had said.

He lowered the goblet carefully to the small table at
his elbow. He felt surprisingly calm now that the first
shock was over. The Elector was not the kind of man
to make that sort of bitter jest. There would be turmoil

216 + JOHN LEE

later, that he knew, but for the moment he was back in
his habitual role of the observer. The difference was
that he was a key player in this scene.

"Did you say what I thought you said?" he asked
evenly.

"I did."

"Does the Emperor know?"

"You would not be alive if he did," Phalastra said
tersely.
"I should be grateful, my lord, if you could explain,"
Malum said gravely. His hands, he was glad to note,
weren't trembling, so he picked up his goblet again and
took a drink.

"Your mother was my ward. She was a very beautiful
girl and though she did not have much in the way of a
dowry, I managed to make an advantageous match for
her. Her husband was Master of the Imperial Hounds;

the position is normally a sinecure, a well-paid token of
the Emperor's favor, but he took the job seriously. Af-
ter the wedding, your mother was given a place at Court
as one of the Empress's ladies-in-waiting- She caught
the Emperor's eye and did not know how to refuse him.
Her husband was sent off to the outlying Electorates in
search of new bloodstock for the kennels so she was all
the more vulnerable. When she became pregnant, she
came to me for advice."

He paused and sipped, watching the young man. The
boy seemed to be taking the news with remarkable
aplomb. There was color in his cheeks, but no other
sign of emotion. He was simply waiting with a look of
polite interest. The boy should go far. He had taken
him on when he first came to Court out of an old-
fashioned sense of obligation, but he had chosen well.

Malum had, in fact, retreated behind one of his masks
to think. He had always supposed that the Elector had
taken him into the household because he was a hunting

THE UNICORN PEACE t 217

companion of his son, Coppin. The real reason was now
clear. A pang of fierce pride struck him. Imperial blood
flowed in his veins. The young noblemen at Court had
made fun of him for his clothes, his lack of height and
the modesty of his title, behind his back to be sure, but
he had known. He could ignore the smirks now, the
whispers behind the hand, knowing that he was the Em-
peror's son. ... He became aware of the Elector's eyes
upon him and he produced his smile.

"What was your advice, my lord?" he inquired.

"I told her that if she valued her life, and that of her
child, she should say nothing of it to Varodias; that
there must never be a hint of scandal attached to the
Imperial name. The problem was that her husband had
been away from Angorn for three months and was not
expected back from some time. Anyone who could
count would know that the child was not his and, more
to the point, the Emperor would know that he was the
father. He has executed two of his legitimate sons be-
cause cliques were beginning to form around them,
so . . ." He let the phrase die. This time Malum did not
prompt him.

"The normal solution would have been for her to
retreat to her husband's estate to have the baby," Phal-
astra resumed, "but in this case that was not possible.
Her mother-in-law had never approved of the marriage,
thought that her precious son could have done better
for himself." His lips tightened in remembrance. "Old
Lady Belgaroth was a formidable woman was well as
being an exceedingly unpleasant one. Had your mother
taken refuge at Castle Belgaroth, she would undoubt-
edly have died in the birthing."

"I always assumed that Quern was our ancestral
home," Malum remarked.

"No, it was one of my estates. It reverted to me on

218 + JOHN LEE

the death of one of my vassals. It was far from Angorn
and the cane harvest made it self-supporting."

"But didn't my father, I mean my mother's husband,
object?"

"Ah, well, the poor man met with an unfortunate
accident- It would have been quite improper for your
mother, as a newly widowed woman, to stay at Court."

"And I don't suppose that you had anything to do
with the 'accident'?" Malum said.

"That is an entirely scurrilous suggestion," Phalastra
replied without heat.

"I apologize, my lord," Malum said, equally bland.
"And did the Emperor make no attempt to contact her
thereafter?"

"He did as a matter of fact, somewhat to my sur-
prise," Phalastra said, knowing that the young man
would prefer the lie, "but your mother, doubtless to
protect you, or at any rate preoccupied with your birth,
declined to return to Court. The Emperor, of course,
found another favorite."

Phalastra sat back. "So now you know," he said. "I
felt a responsibility to your mother and I have felt a
responsibility for you. I feel that I have discharged them
both. I would not have told you, save that I feel that I
owe you the truth and because I know you to be wise
enough in the ways of the Imperial Court to understand
that you can never claim your birthright. If Varodias
has never been a father to you, that is not his fault.
Nevertheless, you owe him blood loyalty. He does not
need to know why you serve him so well; indeed, if you
value your life, he must never know. You do under-
stand that, do you not?"

"Yes, my lord, I understand," Malum said, and he
did.
Phalastra nodded. "Good. I am glad that the secret
is out. I have carried it a very long time. Now I think I

THE UNICORN PEACE + 219

shall get me some rsst. Do you get up a report on our
meeting with His Imperial Majesty. We can go over
it"—he glanced at the clock on the mantel—"at the sev-
enteenth hour."

"Until then, my lord," Malum said, rising.
When he was back in his own room, the Emperor's
bastard spent a long time in front of the looking glass
trying to find hints of Varodias in his face.

ChAptCR 20

t

?wo months had gone by since the Commission for
the Outland had been dissolved. The heat of summer
had diminished and while the middens stank less, the
biting flies were everywhere. Perhaps it was the cooler
nights, or even the unwanted attention of the flies, but
there was a feeling that the land was coming to life
again after the torpor of summer. Jarrod was certainly
active. He had taken the opportunity to resume work
on his history, but he did not neglect his body. He rose,
as always, before dawn, rode for an hour, after Making
the Day, on a three-year-old roan he had bought him-
self as a namingday present and then went in for break-
fast. The roan was spirited and possessed of a mercifully
comfortable gait, but he could not match the pleasure
that Jarrod derived from riding Nastrus. The unicorn,
however, had returned to his job of clearing the Giants'
Causeway. Jarrod missed him, but not enough to go
with him.

After breakfast Jarrod spent four hours on research,
broke for lunch and then worked for two hours on his
manuscript. He closed the energetic part of his day with
an hour of sword practice. He was still rusty after all
the years of neglect and his stamina was not what it had
been when the Guardian's servitor had put him through
his paces, but he was improving. He trained with
Robarth Strongsword's old Master-at-Arms. Ranulph
was delighted to have a pupil. The new generation of

THE UNICORN PEACE + 221

noblemen had abandoned the short fighting sword in
favor of a longer and more graceful blade. "All stick
and no cut," as Ranulph said derisively. Jarrod pre-
ferred to build on the strengths he already possessed.

He bathed after sword practice and dined, most
nights, in the Outpost's Hall with the other Magicians.
Once a month, however, he made a point of dining at
the palace. He had no administrative duties for the mo-
ment, but he knew that, at some point, he would suc-
ceed Greylock as Mage of Paladine and then he would
need the goodwill of the nobles and Court functionaries
that he was cultivating. He usually spent an hour after
Hall with Greylock and then retired to bed. Once every
couple of weeks he spent an evening with Greygor. Yar-
row had snagged the baron's commission and gone
south. It was, in many ways, a perfect life.

He was working contentedly on a crisp morning with
an early fire crackling in the grate when the Duty Boy
rapped on the door. Jarrod looked up, annoyed at be-
ing disturbed.

"The Lady Marianna of Gwyndryth," the boy said,
and stood aside.

Jarrod rose from his desk as Marianna swept in. She
was dressed for Court and her color was high. Jarrod
was never sure before she spoke whether the condi-
tion was the result of the ride over or because she was
angry.

"Marianna, my dear, what a pleasant surprise," he
said, advancing across the room, hands out. "Your
hands are freezing," he said after clasping them. "Come
over to the fire and warm yourself." He looked at the
boy. "A couple of tankards of mulled cider, if you
please."

He turned and ushered Marianna to the fireplace. He
had, for the most part, managed to put the events of
Celador out of his mind. The memory of her body re-

222 + JOHN LEE

turned to him in the drifting moments before sleep, but,
since he had heard nothing from her, the possibility of
a child had been banished. Now it was back. He glanced
at her waist and saw no change.

"You're looking very well," he said.

"I've just come from my father," Marianna said with-
out preamble. "He's inclined to horsewhip you."

"Charming," Jarrod said, drawing back slightly. "I
take it that you are pregnant."

"You take it correctly."

'That's good news then," Jarrod said with decidedly
mixed feelings.

Marianna looked up at him with a ghost of a smile.
"I hope you mean that. I really do."

"Well it's what you wanted."

"Yes it is, and, as you know, I intended to raise this
child unencumbered. Daddy, unfortunately, is being
obstinately old-fashioned. He insisted on knowing who
the father was and I couldn't sidetrack him."

Jarrod had his doubts about that, but said nothing.

"I'm afraid he's insisting that we get married," she
added.

"I see."

Marianna reacted to something in his voice. "I didn't
intend for this to happen, you do realize that."

He looked into her eyes. "You haven't heard me ob-
ject, have you?"

She caught her top lip between her teeth and her eyes
filled. At that point the Duty Boy returned with the
cider. Jarrod took the tankards from him, thanked him
and, by the time he had withdrawn, they were both
composed.

"I don't know about you," Marianna said, "but I
don't want a big wedding."

Jarrod took a long pull at his cider. "You must for-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 223

give me," he said, "but this has come on rather sud-
denly. D'you think we could sit down?"

Marianna laughed as she dropped into the chair.
"That's the sort of thing the woman's supposed to say."

"It's true nevertheless. You've been through this be-
fore; I haven't."

"Poor Jarrod. You don't have to go through with
this if you don't want to. It was never part of our bar-
gain."

"I know- The trouble is that your father isn't the only
old-fashioned one. Our agreement never did sit com-
fortably with me, but you're a difficult woman to say
no to."

"I'm rather relieved to hear that under the circum-
stances," she said lightly. "So what kind of wedding
would you like? After all, it will be your first."

"I think I should like Greylock to marry us and I've
never been one for ceremonies."

"Perhaps we could have it before I go back to Gwyn-
dryth," she suggested.

"What, no honeymoon?" Jarrod exclaimed, making
it sound like a joke.
"I have to get back as soon as I can," Marianna said
reasonably. "The harvest is coming in and there will be
the accounts to do. Besides, in my condition we can't. . .
I mean we just can't."

"How romantic," Jarrod said sarcastically. "What
you're telling me is that this is just a marriage of con-
venience."

"Please, Jarrod dear, don't be difficult," Marianna
said. "I've had a trying morning. I explained to you at
Celador that I don't want a husband in the conven-
tional sense and you have no intention of giving up
your life here and retiring to Gwyndryth. I've already
told you that you are the only man on Strand that I
wanted to father my child and I've proved it. As far as

224 1- JOHN LEE

the rest is concerned, we'll just have to work it out as
we go along. You will, of course, be welcome at Gwyn-
dryth whenever you want to come, but if you prefer to
stay here, I shall quite understand."

Jarrod sighed. "You never did do things the way
other girls did,'" he said. "I don't know why I should
expect you to start now."

"Does that mean that you'll go through with it?"

"1 suppose so. I don't relish the prospect of being
horsewhipped by your father."

She smiled at him and reached out her free hand.
"Thank you," she said. "I'm sorry that it had to happen
this way. but I want you to know that I'm grateful.
Now I suppose we ought to decide about the wedding."

"Does your father have any preferences?" Jarrod
asked. He had no wish to start off this odd alliance by
alienating the Holdmaster.

"Daddy wants me married as fast as possible. This
baby is not to be born early, that's his dictum." She
gave a snort that wasn't quite laughter. "I'm not quite
sure how I'm supposed to pull that off, but I'll have to
work something out." She looked across at him. "You
don't know how lucky you are not to have a parent to
deal with." She shook her head slowly- "The bloody
man simply will not admit that I am an adult. I mean,
I've been running Gwyndryth for how many years now?
And he still treats me as if I was fourteen.''

"We're getting off the point," Jarrod said mildly.
"The thing is that he has no objection to a quick, quiet
wedding."

"The sooner the better," she agreed.

"Perhaps we can have the ceremony upstairs in Grey-
lock's rooms and we can spend the wedding night here."
He grinned suddenly. "I'll finally have a chance to wear
the outfit the Guardian gave me."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 225

Her smile lit her face. "What a good idea. I'll get
Daddy to send a cloudsteed to Gwyndryth for mine."

"A cloudsteed?"

"I don't see why not. He is the general, after all, and
he owes me that much."

"D'you ever think of those days?" he asked.

"Every time that Amarine or her offspring visit."

"When was the last time she came?"

"It must be three years." There was a wistful note in
her voice. "I miss her."

From then on they reminisced comfortably. Like an
old married couple, Jarrod thought ironically, though
the idea rather pleased him.

In the event, the only decisions that they made that
afternoon that survived were their choice of clothes and
of Greylock. Queen Naxania saw the marriage as an
opportunity to add luster to her waning popularity and
decreed that the wedding be held in the abandoned Ma-
ternite chapel that her brother had built. Marianna pro-
tested to her father, but got nowhere. Jarrod complained
to Greylock and found that the Mage considered the
marriage of the discoverers of the unicorns a boon for
the Discipline. He went so far as to issue orders for the
return of Nastrus from the Causeway. Marianna fumed
and Jarrod commiserated, but they were effectively
trapped by their reputations.

Darius seemed to be the only person who was genu-
inely happy. Even the Queen appeared to have her res-
ervations. They were together in the royal withdrawing
room going over the details of the guest list for the
reception when she turned to him and said, "I will not
have Abercorn here."

"It never occurred to me to invite him."

"You realize that Courtak will inherit the Duke-
dom."

"I know it's a possibility," Darius replied easily, "but

226 + JOHN LEE

there's no reason why Paramin shouldn't marry again
and father a child." He smiled at her. "After all, he's
my age, give or take a year."
"Not likely. He's been a broken man since the rebel-
lion failed and I am told that his health is parlous. He
has been consumed by the black humors and his chest
is weak." There was a note of satisfaction in her voice.

Darius raised an eyebrow. "You seem very well in-
formed."

"His Wisewoman is in my pay," she returned shortly.
"I have taken a leaf from your friend Lissen's book."

"I see," Darius said, reflecting on how much she had
changed since they had first met. She was becoming hard
and suspicious. No, he corrected himself, she had al-
ways been suspicious, but the soft side that she had
always shown him was seldom in evidence of late. Once
in a while after they had made love, but that didn't
happen very often these days. He had learned to accept
that, as he had learned to turn a blind eye to her oc-
casional affairs with younger men. She had always been
discreet and she had always returned to him. For his
part, the gods help him, he still cared for her. They had
been lovers for sixteen years and they shared a lot of
memories. He felt a wash of affection for this proud,
stubborn and undoubtedly beautiful woman.

"You know what that means," she said, breaking into
his thoughts.

He looked up, blinking slowly.

"It means that your daughter will be Duchess of
Abercom and a grandson of yours will inherit in his
turn."

"Yes, I suppose it does. I hadn't really given it any
thought." He got up and went over to the table for a
sweetcake. "Does that bother you?" he asked around a
mouthful.

She snorted. "Courtak's first allegiance is to the Dis-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 227

cipline and I am perfectly well aware that your daughter
does not like me. Not exactly the combination I could
wish for in one of my principal fiefs."

"You take altogether too bleak a view of things," he
said gently. "Jarrod has always been loyal to the Crown
and Marianna is too attached to Gwyndryth to meddle
in Paladinian politics. Besides, think of the romance of
it." He walked over, stood behind her chair and began
to massage her shoulders. "The discoverers of the uni-
corns, companions in peril when they were young, fi-
nally falling in love and getting married. It's what the
common people have wanted for years."

"Oh yes, it's very popular." Her shoulders were re-
laxing, but she didn't sound soothed.

"You know." he said lightly, fingers stroking, "this
alliance between the two countries could provide the
perfect setting for a further cementing of relations." He
paused and then took the plunge. "Why don't the two
of us get married?"

Naxania almost sprang from the chair. She whirled
to face him.

"Are you mad?" she said, dark eyes snapping.

Darius drew himself up. "No, I am not. I have served
both you and this country loyally and well for a good
number of years. I have loved you even longer. Your
people are used to seeing me by your side. I have asked
you to marry me before, but there was always some
'reason of state' for you to hide behind. I am an old-
fashioned man, my love, and I'm tired of backstairs
skulking. This is the perfect opportunity to announce
our betrothal."

Naxania had herself under control again. She smiled
at him, reached out and patted his hand as it rested on
the back of the chair.

"You are a dear man," she said, "and you know that
I am very fond of you, but you can be singularly obtuse

228 + JOHN LEE

when it comes to statecraft." Her voice was soft and
level. "It is precisely because your daughter is likely to
become Duchess of Abercorn that I cannot marry you.
It would concentrate too much power in the hands of
one family—and an Arunic family at that."

She stood looking at him expectantly, but he made
no reply.

"You do understand, don't you?" she asked.

Darius' lips tightened and he nodded slowly. "Yes, I
understand. I understand that it is time for me to leave
Stronta, time to go back to Gwyndryth. I should have
done it a long time ago."

"Come now, Darius dear," Naxania said, advancing
around the chair and taking his arms. She looked up at
him. "There's no need for that. We have been very
happy and we will continue to be happy. I need you.
The country needs you."

He smiled ruefully. "It is time that you found your-
self a younger man to run your army and a 'suitable'
man to sire an heir. I shall tender my formal resignation
after the wedding and I will stay until I can hand the
Royal Forces over properly to my successor."
He disengaged his arm gently and left her. He did not
look back and she made no move to stop him. Men are
such children, she thought. It never crossed her mind
that he meant exactly what he said.

Jarrod woke in darkness on the nuptial day. That was
normal, as was the urge to Make the Day. What was
decidedly strange was the fibrillations of nervousness
that he felt. Marriage. Something that he had thought
about idly from time to time, but never pursued. Mar-
riage to Marianna; something that he had fantasized
about when he was young. That was the result of the
hot humors of his salad days. Now it was thrust upon
him and he wasn't certain that he really wanted it. She

THE UNICORN PEACE + 229

was, in many ways, his best friend and their mutual past
provided an undeniable bond, but he wasn't at all sure
that he really loved her. What if he met a woman he
fell head over heels for? He would be locked in. Darius
would never permit a second divorce.

He got out of bed reluctantly. It was too late to back
out now. He had given his word. It struck him suddenly
that he had never actually proposed or asked her father
for her hand. Be that as it may, he would have to go
through with this for the sake of the child, his child.
There were worse reasons for getting married. He was
going to be a father and that was more important than
the circumstances of the wedding. Of course Joscelyn
was his son in all but conception, but he'd never been
a father to the boy. It would be different with this baby.
Having talked himself into a semblance of confidence,
he got dressed and prepared himself for the ritual. It
was not the marriage itself that was making him ner-
vous, he concluded, only that the marriage ceremony
had mushroomed beyond his control.

At breakfast, he took the ribald jesting of his fellow
Magicians in good part, but he didn't linger and reached
his rooms with a feeling of relief. He walked into the
bedchamber and saw that the Duty Boy had laid out
his clothes. It had been a long time since he had seen
them, but they looked none the worse for their sojourn
under lock and key. The dark pink of the brocade was
as vivid as it had been on the Island at the Center. The
triangle of rubies and garnets that gave definition to the
waist gleamed, the diamond buttons sparkled-

The Duty Boy brought chai and watched while Jar-
rod shaved himself. His hand wasn't entirely steady, but
he managed to avoid cutting .himself. He bathed in a
copper tub that the boy had filled. The water was luke-
warm, but the lad was so eager and so excited that he
didn't have the heart to complain. Then came the rob-

230 + JOHN LEE

ing. First the linen breechclout, followed by the silk
hose and the shin with the dark red lace spilling from
the sleeve ends. Next the slim-legged trousers with the
bottoms anchored by pebble-sized rubies. The
burgundy-colored lace jabot was tied around his neck,
and all that was left to don was the jacket.

He had some trepidations about the jacket. The
waistband of the trousers was uncomfortably tight and
he remembered the jacket's fit as being snug sixteen
years ago. He bent his knees tentatively. If the seat was
going to split, better now than later. The trousers held
and he straightened thankfully. Why hadn't he thought
to try the clothes on before this? The boy was holding
the jacket out. Jarrod slouched backward and the Duty
Boy went up on tiptoe. Jarrod slid his hands into the
sleeve holes and pushed and wriggled until his shoulders
were firmly encased. The boy came round to the front.
The first button was a minor struggle, but the others
proved easier. Finally he stood before the looking glass,
a vision of stiff magnificence, girded in as if for war.

There was a group of Magicians waiting for him at
the bottom of the stairs. Two carried mandolins and he
was serenaded all the way to the stables with what they
considered appropriate songs. Nastrus stood waiting for
them, mane brushed, coat burnished, silver hooves shin-
ing. He whickered a welcome and the singing stopped.
Jarrod walked across to the mounting block and Nas-
trus positioned himself.

'I'm going to do this very slowly,' Jarrod thought.
'These trousers are a mite snug and I'm not about to go
through my wedding with my backside on view.'

'Humans!' Nastrus returned, his mind filled with
slightly malicious humor.

'None of that. We'll ride over at a smooth canter.'

Jarrod tried to sound forceful, but the unicorn's un-
derlying enjoyment of the situation was infectious- He

THE UNICORN PEACE + 231

suddenly felt as if the whole occasion might turn out to
be fun after all.

'Mind you,' Nastrus said as Jarrod climbed gingerly
into the saddle, 7 do not understand the reasons behind
this ceremony. It is the duly of a strong male to take as
many females as possible.'

'We see things somewhat differently,' Jarrod replied.
'For us it is the affirmation of the love between two people
and, later, for the protection of the children.'

'Raising colts is dams' work,' Nastrus said dismis-
sively, 'and I can see in your mind that you are uncertain
about this love. You have already rutted, why all this
extra fuss?'
'This is not the lime,' Jarrod thought back with what
severity he could muster, 'to try to explain the differ-
ences between human and unicorn. Let's just get on with
it, shall we?'

They rode out of the stables to the cheers of the as-
sembled Magicians, and Jarrod smiled and waved to his
friends and colleagues. They were all there except Grey-
lock, Tokamo and Agar Thorden, who had spent the
previous night at the palace. He felt their approbation
as a palpable force. These men were, in a very real sense,
his family and he was glad that he had thought to pay
for a feast for them that night. If things had worked
out as originally planned, they and not the Court would
have been the wedding guests.

As they cleared the Outpost's fortified gate, he de-
cided to ride to Stronta through the Great Maze. They
were supposed to make their entrance into the capital
through Westgate, but this seemed more fitting. Nastrus
obediently swung off the road and onto the path that
led to the ancient enigma.

'I've never been through this Maze of yours,' Nastrus
remarked. 'Are you sure that it will let me through?'

232 t JOHN LEE

'Certain. I took Marianna through and her only Talent
was being able to talk to your mother.'

Nastrus moved easily into the required canter- 'If it's
all the same to you,' he remarked, 'I'll walk when we gel
to it.'

'Nothing will happen to you; trust me.' Jarrod re-
sponded.

He proved correct. The Great Maze embraced them.
He had half expected the experience to be different when
viewed through Nastrus' eyes, much as it had been when
they had ridden through the forest created by illusion,
but the glitteringly insubstantial gold and silver fronds
that parted at their approach looked the same to both
of them. There was no trace of discomfort in the uni-
corn's mind, just a happy sense of wonder and an al-
most smug pleasure that he was recording yet another
first for his kind. Emerging into the ordinary daylight
with the ever-open North Door ahead was an anticli-
max for them both.

Stronta was mercifully quiet and Jarrod rode unher-
alded across the broad quadrangle behind the gate and
into Royal Court. A crowd had gathered in front of the
palace to watch the arrival of the notables in their fin-
ery. Jarrod guessed that the rest of the population was
spread between Westgate and Royal Court. He hadn't
thought of that when he had decided to cross the Great
Maze and knew a twinge of regret for depriving the
townsfolk of a sight of the unicorn.

He saw Tokamo, Agar Thorden and the Royal
Chamberlain waiting at the top of the stairs leading to
the Great Hall, but neither they nor the crowd were
looking in his direction. He smiled and Nastrus pulled
up. Jarrod dismounted with care and then, with the uni-
corn following, made his way through the startled
throng, and up the stairs. There he was greeted by the
little delegation and led into the Great Hall with the

THE UNICORN PEACE + 233

cheers of the crowd ringing in his ears- In later years
the legend would say that both he and the unicorn were
invisible until they appeared at the doors of the Hall.

Nastrus was unsaddled and led away by young Lazia,
now a middle-aged man. Jarrod was escorted to a with-
drawing room where he was given a goblet of fortified
wine. The Chamberlain explained that Her Majesty
would enter the chapel in twenty minutes, at which time
he would return for them. He ran over the duties of
Tokamo as ring bearer and where Jarrod would stand,
as if they had never rehearsed the moves. Jarrod lis-
tened politely, knowing from experience that the Cham-
berlain was unstoppable in the performance of his duty.

When the man had finished and gone away, Tokamo
grinned at his old friend.

"That's quite an outfit," he said admiringly. "I sup-
pose all those jewels are real?"

"I'm afraid so."

"I remember your talking about this"—he waved his
hand up and down, indicating the clothes—"when you
were recovering from the Great Spell, but I never really
visualized the size of those stones."

"Wait till you see what Marianna's wearing," Jarrod
said quickly, uncomfortable with the conversation.

Tokamo picked up on his tone of voice immediately.
"Well," he said brightly, "are you feeling nervous?"

"I was when I got up," Jarrod admitted, "but Nas-
trus is having such a good time with this whole thing
that I stopped worrying. Everyone else is taking care of
all the details, so what do I have to be nervous about?"

Tokanio cocked an eyebrow, thinking that a marriage
was more than just a ceremony, but he held his tongue.

"And speaking of all the details," Jarrod continued,
"you do have the ring, don't you?"

Tokamo's face froze. "Of course I do," he said, fish-
ing in his left sleeve pocket. The eyebrows came down
234 + JOHN LEE

into a solid line and he switched to the right sleeve. The
mouth puckered and the eyes widened as he went back
to the left and then frantically to the right sleeve again.
When he raised his head, his face was a mask of bewil-
dered contrition.

"Oh Tok.'' Jarrod said in exasperation. "You
couldn't . . ." He was stopped by Tomako's grin. "Not
funny, Tokamo/' he said angrily. "Not funny!"

"Easy, easy," Tokamo said, unabashed. "Drink your
wine and relax. This is the happiest day of your life,
remember?"

Jarrod managed a tight smile. "Have I ever told you
that you have a perverse sense of humor?"

"Frequently," Tokamo said happily as the Chamber-
lain swept back into the room.

The chapel was of modest proportions as public
spaces in the palace went, but it was the size of a ser-
vant's hall in a prosperous manor. The walls seemed to
be made of stained glass, not unlike the Cathedral of
the Mother in Belengar. The morning sun streamed in
through the east windows and added a layer of extra
color to the bright costumes of the guests. It dappled
Nastrus' hide as he stood to the left of the marble table
that had served as an altar. It made the runestitching
on Greylock's gown glimmer.

Jarrod and Tokamo paced up the central aisle toward
the Mage, and Jarrod's spirits were lifted anew by the
intense enjoyment emanating from the unicorn. All was
right with the world once more. They paused at the
front row of seats and bowed to Naxania, and then
Tokamo moved to the right and Jarrod advanced to
stand before the Mage. They smiled rather awkwardly
at one another while a hum of conversation rose in the
chapel as the guests waited for the next development.
The time seemed to stretch interminably and Jarrod was
itching to see who had put in an appearance. Darius,

THE UNICORN PEACE + 235

as the only parent, had done most of the inviting and
that meant that the Queen had had a considerable say
in the selection.

'Oh. go on,' Nastrus prompted. 'None of these humans
will think the worse of you. Besides, most of them are too
busy watching me to notice.'

'Only because there's nothing more interesting going
on.' Jarrod retorted, but he took the advice and turned
slowly to look down the chapel.
To his left. Queen Naxania sat in a high-backed chair
on the aisle. Beyond her were two empty seats, one for
Darius and one for Tokamo. Joscelyn sat at the far end
wearing the brown gown of an Apprentice. Jarrod
smiled at him, but the boy's attention was elsewhere. I
wonder what he thinks about his mother getting mar-
ried again? Jarrod thought belatedly. Has Marianna
talked to him about it? Probably not. He would have
to make an effort to make the boy feel that his place in
his mother's affections wasn't being usurped. If Josce-
lyn were older or younger, it would be easier, but he
was at the awkward cusp of youth where emotions were
in turmoil. Still, Joscelyn was an obligation that he
would assume with the marriage. His eyes slid away.

To Jarrod's right, the aisle seat was occupied by Agar
Thorden, and next to him sat Lord Otorin of Lissen.
The rest of the row was occupied by members of the
Royal Council. Behind them ranged the Court. Con-
spicuous in their colorful clothes were the Marquis of
Bethel and Soldan of Erdamin. There were some men
in black with white ruffs, but the majority seemed to
have abandoned the fashion, though none with the flair
of the two young noblemen. Compared to most of them,
his own clothes seemed restrained. The thought pleased
him, bolstered, of course, by the knowledge that his
right trouser cuff contained more wealth than most of
them could muster, the Marquis included. The women,

236 + JOHN LEE

he noticed, seemed to be favoring small hats on high-
piled hair this year.

The rising buzz of talk and Jarrod's observations were
terminated abruptly by a fanfare of trumpets. The empty
doorway was suddenly filled. Darius of Gwyndryth
stood there, tall, lean and imposing with his white hair
and trim white beard. He was dressed in the full uni-
form of a General of the Paladinian Royal Forces, gold
braid at his shoulders, a scarlet sash across his chest
and an Umbrian order on a broad ribbon around his
neck. All the guests had turned in their seats, even Nax-
ania, and, impressive as Darius was, all eyes were on
Marianna.

She was worth the study. The dark red hair was swept
back past her ears and curved down to touch her bare
shoulders. Pearls crossed her brow and circled to keep
her hair in place. Sapphire and emerald earrings dan-
gled and were repeated in the necklace that ended in a
square-cut sapphire. The same combination of gems,
two rows deep, curled around her forearms. The dress
had tiny sleeves and swooped low over the bosonh The
waist was nipped in and girdled by a rope of pearls.
The skirt belled out to the floor. The material was dark
and though the windows patched it with colors, it con-
tained rippling hues of its own.

They paused on the threshold as if giving the crowd
time to ogle them and then moved forward as the play-
ers in the gallery struck up a stately march.

They paced up the aisle to the altar, where Darius
handed his daughter on to Jarrod. Both men bowed and
Darius retired to his seat beside Naxania. The couple
exchanged a smile before turning and facing forward.

Jarrod and Marianna stood side by side before Grey-
lock as the Mage's deep voice rolled out over the assem-
bly in the simple words of the marriage rite. They
promised to love and support each other all the days of

THE UNICORN PEACE + 237

their lives. Tokamo advanced and the rings of troth were
exchanged. Then the compact was sealed with the nup-
tial kiss. In no time at all, or so it seemed to Jarrod,
they were walking back down the aisle, hand in hand,
with the musicians playing a lilting air.

The wedding feast, held in the Great Hall, passed in
a welter of noise, heat and extravagant dishes. Then
the tables were cleared and pushed to the sides and the
dancing began. The wine continued to now and the
noise increased still more. The bridal couple danced
twice, once with each other and once when Jarrod led
out the Queen and Darius partnered his daughter.
Thereafter they endured the good wishes of the guests.
After about an hour, Marianna looked at her husband
and said through the fixed smile that she had acquired,
"If we don't get out of here, I'm going to scream."

"I doubt if anyone would hear you, but I agree."

He took her hand and led the way through the Jos-
tling throng. No one seemed to notice, much less try to
stop them. The noise of the revelry pursued them down
the corridor, but once they had turned the second cor-
ner, it died mercifully away.

"They're going to be angry when they look around
to escort us to the bridal bed and find us gone," Jarrod
said.

"They'll bloody well have to lump it," she replied.
"It's a barbaric custom. I've been through it once and
I've no intention of doing so again."

"They'll come banging on my, er, our door and cre-
ate a rumpus. They'll all be drunk and they may well
break it down."

Marianna groaned. "You're right, of course." She
stopped and tugged him to a halt. "Tell you what," she
said decisively, "I'm going to my room to change. You
do the same and meet me at the stables. Father keeps a

238 + JOHN LEE
mare for me to ride and if Nastrus isn't there, you can
borrow one of Daddy's hunters."

"We're going to the Outpost?" Jarrod asked.

"Well, we've agreed that we can't stay in your room
here." A hint of her old grin appeared. "We couldn't
get married there the way we wanted to, but I don't see
why we shouldn't spend our wedding night there, do
you?"

"I married a very intelligent woman," Jarrod said.
He leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll
see you at the stables in half an hour."

So Jarrod spent his wedding night in his own bed, a
bed that had never had a woman between its sheets
before. Marianna had gone to sleep almost immedi-
ately, but the headache he had acquired at the feast kept
Jarrod awake awhile, curled protectively and content-
edly around his wife. He smiled at the word- He was
aware that he did not love her as he had loved her when
he was a boy, but, he decided, he did love her. He knew,
too, that she had never been in love with him. She was
fond of him, of that he was certain, and they had been
good together in bed. She would come to love him. He
hugged her gently and drifted off to sleep.

ChAptCR 21

u

e are informed that you demanded an au-
dience, Revered Mother." The Emperor's voice, manip-
ulating the cadences of the Formal Mode into sarcasm,
emphasized the "demanded."

The Mother Supreme compressed her lips. She had
taken a risk in forcing this meeting, but Varodias had
given her no other option. She had been petitioning for
an audience for a fortnight and his refusal to see her
was both a personal slight and an insult to the Church.
That could not be tolerated. She felt the anger rise in
her again and pushed it away. She could not afford to
be emotional with this man.

"Access to Your Majesty's presence is one of the tra-
ditional privileges of my office," she said quietly. "I do
no more than claim what tradition has sanctified."

Varodias   turned to stroke the feathers of the gyrfal-
con that   sat on the perch to his right. Let her stand and
wait, he   thought. She may have coerced my Chamber-
lain but   she will not coerce me.

"We have been much preoccupied of late," he said
lazily, his attention still on the raptor. "The times are
unsettled. There are a great many things that demand
our attention."
"Oh, I am aware of that," Amulpha replied. "I did
not return to Angorn in search of frivolity." She kept
her voice pleasant. "It is precisely the troubled times
that I wish to discuss."

240 + JOHN LEE

Varodias turned his head back slowly. "Indeed?"

She put on her professional smile. "It was my im-
pression that the last time we spoke we had reached an
agreement." Her knees and her ankles hurt. The Em-
peror had yet to descend from the throne as custom
required and did not appear to be ready to offer her a
chair. Blast the conceited little man, she thought, but
she was not about to give him satisfaction.

"An agreement?" Varodias was enjoying himself and
he let it show.

"As I recall, I agreed to dismiss the Church's retain-
ers and you agreed that Imperial troops would be de-
ployed to protect Church property. I was to encourage
our priestesses to preach support for the Imperium and
you were going to open the Alien Plain to settlement,
with a provision for the establishment of new churches
in the conquered lands. I have kept my part of the bar-
gain, but you have not kept yours."

It was a simple declaration, devoid of overt animos-
ity, but she radiated the authority that accretes to a
person who has been obeyed for twenty years.

The Emperor watched her with distaste. He was aware
of her aura of power, but it could not daunt him. Irri-
tate him, yes; intimidate him, no. She had presumed to
treat him as an equal at their last meeting and it was
fitting that she suffer for it. Besides, the unpopularity
of the Church was proving to be a useful diversion for
the lower orders and it did not seem to be hurting his
own popularity.

"You do us wrong, Lady," he said. "Our troops have
indeed been deployed and new maps of the Outland are
even now being drawn. Old soldiers are drawing lots
for land. Our contributions to the Church have been
paid in timely fashion. In short, we cannot see the jus-
tice in your complaint."

She gave him a long, level stare. It was obvious that

THE UNICORN PEACE + 241

deference was getting her nowhere and she decided to
change her tactics. "Oh spare me." she said contemp-
tuously. She looked around and spotted a chair by the
wall.

''Since you have not thought to provide a chair for
me, I suppose I shall have to get one for myself." Her
tone was that of a mother addressing a son on a breach
of manners.

She stumped off. got the chair and brought it back.
She gathered her skirts and settled herself. "Now, let us
start with the troops," she said.

Varodias' lips were drawn down, his gloved hands
gripped the arms of the throne. Bad signs, but her blood
was up. Let him do his worst, she thought. No Emperor
was a match for the Great Mother.

"It is true that Imperial troops have been deployed
around the country, but they have studiously avoided
any action. This abominable hermit person travels freely
and is inciting people against us once more. Novitiates
have been attacked and postulants have been violated,
Church estates have been raided and the kina driven
off. property has been vandalized and congregations put
to flight. Your men have stood by and done nothing.
What say you to that?"

Varodias forced himself to relax. "We say that it is
unfortunate that the Church of the Mother is losing its
appeal for our peoples. Your priestesses are seen as rich
and slothful and the Church has the reputation of being
a harsh landlord. On the other hand, the nobility, with-
out the rowel of war upon its flanks, seem to have be-
come more materialistic and disputatious. The common
people tend to ape their betters."

"I did not ask you for a lecture on the moral climate
of the realm," Arnulpha said coldly. "I asked you why
your men have stood by and done nothing."

Varodias sat very still. The gyrfalcon tossed its head

242 + JOHN LEE

and let out a screech. The Emperor was very angry.
How dare this pudding of a woman talk to him in that
tone of voice. He would not, however, afford her the
satisfaction of seeing that she had provoked him. His
face remained bland.

''We understand that a troop of the Imperial Guard
turned back a mob at Hallenberg and they have re-
sponded elsewhere according to reports." He kept his
voice matter-of-fact.

"Hallenberg was the sole occasion that they arrived
on time," she responded tartly.

"We can assure you that the commanders have their
orders," the Emperor said enigmatically. He permitted
himself a wintry smile.

"And what of this Simian the Hermit?" The Mother
Supreme asked, changing her tack slightly. "Why is he
still at large?"
"He has some powerful friends, as you pointed out
when last we conversed. He appears suddenly, mostly
in towns, preaches and then vanishes again. That re-
quires organization and money."

"The Electors ofOndor and Flaxenholrne," she said
flatly.

"So it appears," Varodias said smoothly, though he
was surprised at the accuracy of her information.

"And have you asked yourself why they are spending
time and money on this man?"

"They are approaching middle years and they are
bored," he responded. "They led their men in battle
when they were young; now they are reduced to making
mischief."

Arnulpha let the jejune characterization pass, though
it annoyed her. "They do it because they aim for the
throne. The Church is but a stalking horse, practice for
a bigger game. I suggested that before and I am certain
of it now."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 243

The Emperor froze and the raptor stirred uneasily.
The Mother Supreme knew that she had penetrated his
armor.

"And how know you this?" he asked quietly.

She paused before answering, wondering if he had his
scribe hidden behind the throne. "Men come to us for
the rite of confession." She paused again before adding,
"A rite that Your Imperial Majesty has avoided for
many years."

And as we now see, with good reason, Varodias
thought, but he gave a short bark of laughter. "We lead
an exemplary life," he said.

"Be that as it may. I suggest this hermit be eliminated
for both our sakes."

"And create a martyr. Revered Mother? We think
not. You may be an expert in the politics of the here-
after, but when it comes to the here and now . . ." His
right hand fanned out and he let the words die away.

"Very well," Arnulpha said, "let us discuss the here
and now. Your Imperial Majesty is no doubt aware of
my feelings on the subject of the Discipline."

"We are aware that the Church considers the practice
of Magic to be a contravention of its teachings."

"Magic is the antithesis of everything the Empire be-
lieves in," the Mother Supreme said bluntly. "The
Church has always endorsed science and the progress
that comes with it. The Discipline clings to the past and
promotes superstition."

"This is an old argument. Serenity," Varodias said
with a trace of impatience.

"Indeed," Arnulpha agreed with a sly smile, "but I
wonder at Your Imperial Majesty's lack of concern
when the Discipline conspires with the Isphardis to
bring Magic to your very borders."

Varodias looked at her for a long moment. "Would
you care to elucidate?" he asked as casually as he could.

244 + JOHN LEE

The Mother Supreme's eyebrows rose and the half-
smile returned. "Surely Your Imperial Majesty is aware
of the secret Concordat between the Discipline and the
Oligarchs to bring the practice of Magic to Isphardel?"

"Naturally," Varodias lied. "We are somewhat sur-
prised that the knowledge has reached you. Another
confession we suppose."

"Not this time," Arnulpha said enigmatically. "I am
sure, however, that you feel as I do that this cannot be
allowed to come to fruition and for that you will need
our help."

"It would seem so," the Emperor allowed.

"Can the Church count on some protection in the
here and now?" Arnulpha asked pleasantly.

"We shall iterate our orders to our commanders,"
Varodias replied flatly.

The Mother Supreme looked up skeptically, eyes nar-
rowed. She relaxed and sat back as if she had changed
her mind. "Now, about the endowment of the Church
on the Alien Plain," she began.

Varodias raised a hand to cut her off. "One thing at
a time. Reverend Lady. We have many matters to con-
tend with and our time is limited. We regret, but this
audience is at an end." He turned to the gyrfalcon and
began to pet it.

Arnulpha took a deep breath and got to her feet. She
would get no more from him at this point. She knew
him well enough for that. She would not, however, re-
tire in defeat.

"Have a care, Majesty," she said. "If your troops fail
in their duty, I shall not hesitate to excommunicate
you." She turned on her heel and clumped out.
Varodias glared at the broad back as if retreated and
then, when the doors were closed behind her, "Scribe!"

"Yes, Majesty." The man scuttled out from behind
the throne and bowed deeply.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 245

"Destroy your record of this meeting. Leave us and
do you tell the guard to summon the Lord Malum of
Quern."

"As Your Imperial Majesty commands."

The scribe bowed again, sidled away to retrieve his
papers and then backed from the Imperial presence to
the door.

Varodias sat and waited, staring at the vacant chair,
the fingers of his right hand drumming on the arm
of the throne. She had threatened him. The insufferable
woman had dared to threaten him. His mind fumed,
contemplating revenge. She was damnably well in-
formed. The business about the Discipline was bad
enough, but the challenge to the throne was crucial. If
her information was right, however, and it mirrored his
own, he had larger problems than an overweening
priestess. If two of the Electors were plotting against
him, there would be others. This operation was too sub-
tle for the likes of Ondor and Flaxenholme.

Grandmere of Rotherbach? Possible. He had not been
to Court in over a year and he had no kin at Angorn.
Baramia of Augspem? Too old to be an effective plot-
ter. He cursed quietly under his breath. Where was Es-
tragoth when he needed him? He should never have
allowed him to go home. A thought struck him. The
younger son had never returned to Court. He shook his
head. No, not Estragoth. Nevertheless a pointed invi-
tation for his son to resume his post would not be amiss.

There was a rapping at the door and Varodias came
out of his reverie. The doors opened and the guard an-
nounced Lord Quern. He watched as the little man,
dressed all in black, save for a small ruff, advanced
across the floor, limping very slightly. Quern came to a
stop beside the chair that the Mother Supreme had
abandoned and bowed.

"You sent for me, Imperial Majesty?"

246 + JOHN LEE

"We have just received confirmation from an impec-
cable source that the Electors of Ondor and Flaxen-
hoime are indeed plotting against the throne," the
Emperor said in a deceptively placid voice. "Since you
have charge of our intelligence, it pains us that we have
come by our confirmation from an outside source."
It was intended to shock, but Varodias saw no sign
that the young man was disconcerted. A cool customer,
he thought, not for the first time. Estragoth had chosen
well.

"As Your Imperial Majesty knows, I was aware that
the two Electors are supporting the man known as Sim-
ian the Hermit, but that is in a crusade against the
Mother Church. The Church has extensive estates in
both Electorates and it is reasonable to suppose that
they intend to annex them when the opportunity arises."

"And did it not occur to you that an attack on one
pillar of the establishment can easily be redirected
against another? Once the populace has been induced
to riot, rebellion can follow. Or had that possibility es-
caped you?"

"No, Sire, it had not." Malum's insides were trou-
bled, but he kept his voice steady. It was obvious that
the Emperor was in a bad mood, and he would have to
tread warily. "In fact I have agents in the field who are
directing the popular animus against the Electoral
Houses." He forced a brief smile. "I thought that the
people were most easily aroused against the authorities
that were closest to home, those whose actions most
directly affected them. Those that have treated their folk
well have nothing to fear. The rest will have less time
for plotting."

"Indeed?" Varodias sat back and his shoulders re-
laxed. The falcon, sensing the change in its master's
mood, ruffled its feathers and began to preen. "We trust

THE UNICORN PEACE + 247

that those Electors who are loyal to us will not be dis-
commoded."

"The public beast is relatively easy to arouse and to
turn, but difficult to direct with accuracy," Malum said
with more certainty than he felt. "Those lords who have
been good to their people and are perceived as being
just should be relatively safe. Those who have op-
pressed will be at risk, no matter how loyal they are to
Your Imperial Majesty." He shrugged. "Of course," he
added, "if the conflagration becomes general, madness
sets in and nobody is safe. There are, at present, no
signs of discontent in Your Majesty's own Electorate
and the capital is quiet."

Varodias smiled, the long, thin face warming briefly.
"We are happy to hear that," he said. The face dark-
ened again. "Nevertheless, the fact remains that treason
is afoot and we wish to know the particulars. Ondor
and Flaxenholrne are too light of mind and will to carry
it off successfully. There are others involved. We would
know their names. With this we charge you."

"As Your Imperial Majesty commands." Malum
bowed his head, knowing that he had been lucky. It was
obvious that the Emperor's source was the Mother Su-
preme; the question was, how accurate was her infor-
mation?

"It has occurred to us that both these Electors have
kin at Court. It might be well if they were moved from
their quarters to a place where they could be more
closely watched. What think you?"

"I would advise against it, for the moment, Sire,"
Malum replied. "While it might dissuade one or the
other from further action, it would signal our knowl-
edge of the plot and that would undoubtedly make the
others more cautious and hence harder to detect."

"A good point." Varodias nodded in approval. "We
concur." He paused and looked at Malum. The boy

248 t JOHN LEE

had said nothing to him about a secret agreement be-
tween the Isphardis and the Discipline. He may not
have known about it or may have decided to keep the
knowledge to himself. Neither prospect sat well.
Should he reveal his newly acquired information?
No, he decided. Better to hold it in reserve. The right
hand came up, forefinger raised. "We should hope that
your spies are more efficacious in other areas," he con-
tinued, voice neutral and thus, to Malum, infinitely
threatening.

Feeling like a novice, even after all these years with
Estragoth, Malum dropped his gaze as the Emperor
turned and made little mewling sounds to the bird.
Proximity to the throne, he thought, was intoxicating,
but it was also unnerving. Estragoth, secure in himself
and older than the Emperor, had been immune, but
Malum had been living on the edge for some months
now and it was playing havoc with his digestion.

"The Elector of Estragoth had a number of excellent
sources. Sire," he said cautiously, "but they do not
have the contacts with the younger generation and
there are those who, quite naturally, do not trust me
in the same way that they trusted my Lord of Estra-
goth. I have some of my own men in place now, but it
takes time."

Varodias turned his attention back from the hawk.
"It would be well, given the changing circum-
stances"—his left hand described a vague circle in the
air—"if we had intelligence of Isphardel. In my pre-
decessor's day, traders sufficed, but we think it wise
now to know what the Oligarchs are planning. It is
our opinion that they intend to make Isphardel into a
major power and, since we share a border, it behooves
us to know what is in the minds of their Council."
Here is his chance, he thought. If he knows he will tell
me now.
THE UNICORN PEACE + 249

Malum smiled to himself, but allowed no trace of
triumph to show. "I have made a start in that direction,
Sire," he said. "Unfortunately the Isphardis are a venal
lot so it is an expensive undertaking. The good in that
is that their venality makes them relatively easy to sub-
orn. I have an informant placed high in the household
of one of the Oligarchs."

"A good beginning," the Emperor allowed, "and you
shall have money as you need it. What says this man?"

"That the Council is taken up with the logistics of
road building," Malum replied, not bothering to inform
his sovereign that his informant was a woman.

A peal of disconcerting laughter rang out, startling
both the hawk and Malum. The Emperor's gloved hands
beat together like a child's. "And think of the cost," he
crowed. "If a couple of setbacks occurred, it could end
up bankrupting them." He has failed, he thought be-
hind the facade of mirth. He needs another test.

"Your Majesty is most wise," Malum said, making a
mental note.

The Emperor allowed his good humor to subside. The
long, mobile face became stem once more.

"There is a commission that we would have you per-
form for us," he said. "The Mother Supreme is, as you
know, here at Angom. She is an old woman and un-
healthily obese. We should not care to have the Church
in the throes of change if there are severe problems in
the realm. It is our opinion that the lady's time has
come. Better now than at a more inappropriate date. It
would be fitting if she ate something that disagreed with
her, or mayhap choked on her food. It must appear an
entirely natural death. Do we make ourselves clear?"

"Absolutely, Sire."

"You may go then."

Malum bowed once more and retreated. Varodias
turned to the gyrfalcon. He hummed to himself as he

250 + JOHN LEE

stroked the fierce head. An interesting session. What
was obvious was that the Mother Supreme had an ex-
cellent network of spies and that meant that there would
be some in the Imperial household. He would root them
out. Their deaths would be slow and painful. He smiled
at the thought-

chaptCR 22
ie Oligarchs of Isphardel were gathered to discuss
policy. It was as discreet a meeting as could be ar-
ranged, given the fact that Belengar was a place where
no secret was safe and that it was impossible to disguise
the fact that every Oligarch was out of the city at the
same time. There was no regulation that forbade it, it
was just that it went against mercantile self-interest and
that was enough to provoke comment.

That the Oligarchs should seek relief from the heat
and odors of the city during the Season of the Moons
was not unexpected. It was the rainy season and the
coastal regions were always the hardest hit. Dark clouds
rolled in off the Inland Sea and disgorged torrents of
rain on a daily basis. Ships rode high in the harbor and
the culverts that ran down the streets overflowed. There
was a rumor that the Magicians of the western realms
were going to control the weather, but there were few
who believed that they could harness the daily down-
pours. Even if they did manage to drive the clouds north
so that the rains fell on Songuard, it would only mean
that the Illuskhardin would burst its banks and drown
the city. Kadif, kadaf, as the locals said. If not one
thing, then the other.

The roads leading north were all paved, but the wise
and wealthy always added extra horses to their teams
at this time of year when business called them away, or
when their families escaped Belengar's pervasive damp

252 + JOHN LEE

for the drier uplands. The absence of their families not-
withstanding, only an outbreak of plague could drive
all of the Oligarchs out of the city.

The meeting was being held at a summer villa on the
shores of Lake Grad. though ''villa" was an ingenuous
word for the sprawling, honey-colored, stone mansion
set in five acres of gardens and surrounded by a further
three hundred acres of carefully maintained parkland.
Clouds moved slowly overhead, but every now and then
shafts of sunlight speared down between them and
danced on the leaden surface of the lake.

Inside the house the fires were lit, even though the
rest of the world would consider the temperature balmy.
In the main withdrawing room, the furniture had been
moved back to make space for a broad table. There was
food and drink on smaller tables, but there were no
servants. There were eight people in the room, all of
them Oligarchs.

Isphardis tended toward olive skins and brown eyes
and these heads of the old mercantile houses ran true
to type. The general population tended to be dark-
haired, and most of those about the central table had
been dark-haired when young. Only one, Torrant Lar-
ridan, was black-haired now, and everyone knew that
he dyed it. There were five men beside Torrant; Calliost
of the Grandons, Marwin of the Pintarels, Asphar of
House Urcel, Rully of the Narboresa and Festin Man-
yas, son of the former ambassador to Arundel and host
to this gathering. All were dressed finely in the samites
and light velvets considered proper to the season.

The two women were a contrast in styles. Olivderval,
eldest of the Maricii, still wore summer silks in vivid
hues and her jewelry outshone anything that the men
wore. Leonida, widow of the Oligarch Dromahl, was
tall and slim where Olivderval was short and stocky.
She wore the deep purple of her widowhood, the combs

THE UNICORN PEACE + 253

that held her upswept white hair in place were of ame-
thyst and a long braid of gold hung unpendanted
around her neck. The only ring she wore was a broad,
plain wedding band. She looked frail and simple in that
company, but she had taken over the family businesses
on her husband's death some fifteen years before and
had doubled the profits within three years. No one at
the table had bested her in a deal, though all, save
Olivderval, had tried.

"And now to our business," Festin Manyas said from
his chair at the head of the table. "I should like to call
upon friend Olivderval of the Maricii to bring us up to
date on the latest intelligence from abroad." He was a
spare, fussy man, slightly younger than the others, and
would not have been chairman had they not been in his
house.

"Thank you, Festin, and may I compliment you on
your admirable hospitality." She smiled down the table
at him among murmurs of assent. "As you know," she
proceeded briskly, "the first installment of money has
been paid to the Discipline according to the terms of
our secret compact. There is a working group of the
Weatherwards on Harbor Island examining conditions
in the skies and I am told reliably that special emphasis
is being placed on that aspect of the training of the
Apprentice Magicians at the Collegium. Needless to say,
they will have to produce a great many new Weather-
wards in the years to come. I have no doubt, however,
that they will be able to improve our conditions consid-
erably, even, let us hope, in the rainy season. I think
that it is worth our while to be patient.

"Our relations with the Magical Kingdoms and with
Talisman continue to be good, although the unrest in
Paladine this past summer produced a slight downturn
in flax and the cereal trade. Wool and leather, however,
were unaffected. Indeed the number of fleeces increased.

254 + JOHN LEE

From all reports, Queen Naxania is firmly in control
again, though she is not markedly popular. In short,
there is no reason to suppose that next year's profits
should not be up to, or beyond, last year's. The same
holds true for both Arundel and Talisman. So much for
the good news."

Olivderval paused and drank some water. She glanced
at her colleagues and was pleased to see that no one
was taking notes.

"Conditions in the Empire," she resumed, "are far
from smooth. The general unrest is continuing. The
preachings of Simian the Hermit have affected the man-
ufacturing towns and the production, particularly of
cloth and metalware, is down substantially. That, com-
bined with an indifferent harvest in most Electorates,
has led to an increase in imports, notably of grain, and
a decrease in exports. It is my judgment that, within a
year, Umbria will become a debtor nation."

There was a brief silence, broken by Marwin, whose
increasing weight and wispy hair gave him the look of
an oversized baby.

"If Varodias spent less money on his army, he might
be able to pay his bills."

"Scant chance of that while there's rebellion abroad,"
the Oligarch Larridan replied.

"I would think that it is too early to label it rebellion,
but the question is, are we going to extend him credit?"
The observation and question were couched in Leoni-
da's cultivated tones.

How does a reed that thin produce such a rich sound?
Olivderval wondered. She waited for someone to an-
swer. When none did, "I think we must," she said. "We
do not want to give him an excuse to turn on us, not
yet."

"Not yet?'The query came from Calliost.

Olivderval smiled across the table at him. He was tall,

THE UNICORN PEACE + 255

still slim in robes that disguised his paunch, and his
thick, grey hair made him look younger than he was.
Olivderval and he had had an affair when both were
young. It had petered out gracefully and she was still
fond of him.

"It will come, my dear Calliost, it will come," she
said regretfully. "Nobody loves a creditor, as we are all
well aware, but Varodias has deeper troubles and is be-
ginning to look abroad for a diversion, something to
take the people's mind off their domestic problems. We
are the obvious target."

"When you say that the Emperor is already begin-
ning to look at us with envy, are you just being logical
or do you have some proof?" The question came from
Torrant.

"Oh, I have proof," Olivderval said pleasantly. "Now
that the Elector of Estragoth has retired to his estates,
his place has been taken by his former secretary, one
Malum of Quern, with one difference. Young Malum is
also Varodias' spymaster. Young Quern, whose ac-
quaintance I made at Stronta, has sought, quite suc-
cessfully I am happy to say, to suborn my tiring
woman—and I am sure that he has other sources in
Belengar."

"And why are you happy to say that your tiring
woman has been enlisted as an Umbrian spy?" Festin
asked.

"Because she is a loyal soul," Olivderval replied
sweetly, "and she came straight to me." She shrugged
and raised her hands. "I, of course, told her exactly
what I wanted Lord Malum to hear. I shall continue to
do so."

"And have you taken steps to acquire reliable infor-
mation from Umbria?" Leonida inquired.

Olivderval smiled- "Naturally. We all have our own
network of traders and I question mine closely, but, in

256 + JOHN LEE

addition, I have found some Umbrians who are more
than willing to supply information for ready cash." She
flashed a look around the table. "Umbrians are easy to
snare," she said contemptuously. "They're too greedy
to look ahead and, once committed to treason, too
afraid of betrayal to back out."

"And wh at did you tell your maid to tell the Um-
brians?" Marwin asked.

"That the Council was too bogged down in the de-
tails of building roads through Songuard to think about
much of anything else."

"Well, that's the truth," Rully of the Narboresa put
in sardonically. "That's what we're here for, isn't it?"

Olivderval looked at Leonida and then at Calliost,
hoping that one of them would take the initiative. Both
knew her thinking on the matter, but they both avoided
her eyes. She took a breath.

"Only partly." she said. "That is why we have taken
such precautions about this meeting and why no word
of what is decided here can seep out, even to members
of your families." She stopped and pushed her chair
back as quietly as she could. She levered her bulk up
and walked softly to the doors. She opened them quickly
and stepped out into the passageway. At the end of the
corridor, two of Festin Manyas' servants were deep in
conversation. There was no one else in sight. She turned
an reentered the withdrawing room.

"I apologize for the melodrama," she said lightly,
"but, from now on, one cannot be too careful. The
future of the State depends on it."

She felt as well as heard the skeptical silence and re-
took her place with deliberation. She sensed the antag-
onism of the men. They had yielded to her hard work
and experience long ago and treated her as an equal,
but they still did not like it when she took it upon her-
self to formulate policy for them. Too bad, she thought;

THE UNICORN PEACE + 257

if we waited for them we'd be a province of the Empire-
She smiled up and down the table, inviting them to see
the humor in her fears, despising herself for the gesture
as she performed it.

"My caution may seem overdone to some of you, but
the reality is that we must prepare ourselves for war
with the Empire."

"Oh come now, Olivderval," Torrant expostulated.
"Your imagination has taken control of your usually
admirable practicality. The Empire has no need to ex-
pand. It has vast new territories that it can't possibly
populate and they have absolutely no reason to fear
us."

"You are being logical, Torrant," Leonida said dryly,
"and also obtuse. We have already heard about the un-
rest in the Empire and we now know that Varodias con-
siders us important enough"—there was a wealth of
sarcasm in the "important"—"to spy on members of
this Council. I recommend, gentlemen, that you look to
your households. If this Quern person has seen fit to
spend gold on the servants, you may wager that he has
made similar efforts elsewhere." The level brown eyes
scanned the faces around the table. "It would, of course,
be far more productive to have one of us in his em-
ploy." She let the statement linger accusingly in the air.

"Fear is not Varodias' prod," Olivderval resumed,
"or at least not direct fear of us; fear of his own people
maybe. Envy is the spur. We do not grow, we do not
spin, we do not manufacture, but we prosper. Success
inspires resentment and it fosters greed."

"Beautifully said, dear lady." Asphar of Urcel's gen-
teel voice dropped languidly into the debate. "Now, you
know that I admire you beyond measure, but I also
know you passing well. For you to have risen to such
poetic heights means that you are about to propose

258 + JOHN LEE
something deucedly expensive." He smiled across the
table at her and sprawled back carelessly in his chair.

And I know you, Olivderval thought, a dandy with a
mind of honed steel and a grudge-bearing ability that
the gods would envy. She replicated his smile, though
with difficulty. When they were both children—he was
fourteen, she twelve—he had beaten her dog because,
when they had both called it, the dog had gone to her
and not to him. She had been a mere girl then with an
older brother to fight her battles for her, but he had
died and she was Oligarch now.

"Oh aye," she said pleasantly, proud of her control,
"it will cost, but less I think than would the wholesale
disruption of world trade, or having our houses fired
and Isphardis put to the sword." Her voice was light,
to the extent that it natural depth allowed. It was not
he way she had intended to approach the subject, but
she was reacting to Asphar. Damn the man' Why did
she have to spend her life reacting to him?

"And what is your suggestion?" Marwin asked cau-
tiously.

Olivderval took in a breath and made herself relax.
"We shall have to arm and train a militia." She held up
a hand as babble broke forth.

"I know, I know," she said. "We have never resorted
to arms, but times have changed."

"Changed?" came the clotted voice ofCalliost. "We
have avoided arms in times of war, what possible reason
could we have to resort to them in times of peace?"

"Thank you, Calliost," Olivderval said slowly. "To
begin with, we shall have to have a force to protect our
roadbuilders in Songuard. Their government is new and
relatively powerless and, to compound the problem,
what sway they hold is in the north whereas we shall
begin our operations in the south. I put it you that the
sight of all that activity will prove too much for the

THE UNICORN PEACE + 259

southern clans. We shall need armed men to protect our
workers, our mules and our equipment."

She sat back and surveyed them again. "Of course,"
she added, "that would be the legitimate cover. No one
could object to that. I gained promises from the western
countries that they would protect us if need be, but we
cannot expect them to do that if we are unwilling to
protect ourselves. As I said, that would be the ostensi-
ble reason for a militia, but the real danger comes from
Umbria and we shall have to build an effective army to
counter that."

"And while we are at it," Rully chimed in unexpect-
edly, "we ought to consider arming our merchant fleet.
All the Umbrian fortifications face north."

Olivderval flashed him a look of gratitude. "Our ex-
cuse could be an increase in piracy, preferable from the
shores of the Magical Kingdoms," she said approv-
ingly.

"I don't know about this," Manyas said nervously.
"This is a major undertaking, an expensive undertak-
ing, and there is no profit in it."

"Think of it as insurance against ruin," Leonida said
crisply. "Any estimates of the costs, Olivderval?"

The Oligarch referred to the papers in front of her.
"A start-up cost of three hundred thousand ecrus for
the training and equipping of a force of fifty thousand
men."

"Fifty thousand men! That's insane." The agitated
objection came from Festin Manyas.

"And that does not include monies for the develop-
ment of cannon," Olivderval pressed on relentlessly.
"We have acquired, by the way, the secret of the man-
ufacture of cannon and I do not doubt that Isphardi
ingenuity can improve upon the original."

Hubbub ensued.

Ch3ipt6R 23

-^ arrod was relaxing in his main room and was feel-
ing satisfied. Nastrus had just returned to Stronta and
had reported that the Giants' Causeway had been
cleared away as far as the Songean border, a prodigious
amount of work for both Magicians and cloudsteeds.
The unicorn had been tired and proud and he had cer-
tainly earned the right to feel that way. There was no
more work to be done on the project, for this year at
any rate. The weather would begin to close in by the
end of the month, the more so in Songuard where it
was uncontrolled. Indeed, there were reports of fresh
snow on the mountain peaks. Nastrus would be return-
ing to the Island at the Center soon for his annual visit
and Jarrod knew that he would have to come up with
a convincing reason to tempt him back. It was impor-
tant that the Empire see the benefit of the enterprise,
that the Discipline be seen to be helpful to them.

He stretched his slippered feet toward the fire and
was contemplating a nap when there was a rapping at
the door. He swiveled and saw the Duty Boy's head.
He gestured and the boy slipped into the room.

"Sorry to disturb you. Excellence, but there's a bun-
glebird message that just came in."

Jarrod beckoned and the boy came over quickly and
handed him a tiny roll of paper. Jarrod smoothed it out
and leaned it into the light so that he could decipher
the writing. "Child expected in a sennight. Come if

THE UNICORN PEACE + 261

you've a mind to." It was unsigned. His heart gave a
little lurch and his brain began to calculate. It would
have taken the bird at least four days to fly here from
Gwyndryth. That meant that it was due any day. The
baby could already have been bom. A trip through In-
terim was the only way to get there in anything like
time.

"Any return message, sir?" the boy asked.

"Oh, er, no. It wouldn't do any good. I'd be obliged,
though, if you would pack me some clean linen, hose,
a couple of robes and my washing things. Use the sad-
dlebags. Fetch me my shoes first. I've got to see the
Mage."

Five minutes later,he was being ushered into Grey-
lock's bedchamber. The Mage was sitting at his desk
working at some papers.

"Sit yourself by the fire, Jarrod, I'll be with you di-
rectly," he said without looking up. "There's some
mulled ale in the hearth, help yourself."

Jarrod sat and watched the fire, wanning his hands
on the mug and taking small sips. He was excited and
the hot liquid seemed to steady him. He heard sand
being sprinkled on paper and sat up. Moments later the
old Mage joined him, ladled out some ale and sat down
opposite-

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I just got a message from Marianna," Jarrod re-
plied. "The baby's due and I would like to be there."
He smiled sheeplishty. "It's my first, and possibly my
last, child."

Greylock's lips tightened; not the reaction that Jar-
rod had expected. "Deuced awkward," he said.

Jarrod waited.

Greylock sighed and then looked up at his protege.
"The fact is," he said, "I'm planning to go to Celador."

"I realize that you would rather we weren't both away

262 + JOHN LEE

at the same time, but Thorden and Tokamo are quite
capable of keeping things running. They've done it be-
fore." Jarrod recognized the defensive note in his voice.
Surely Greylock couldn't deny him this?
"Yes I know," Greylock said on cue, "but the reason
I'm going to Celador is that the Archmage is ill."

"I hadn't heard," Jarrod said soberly.

"Nobody's heard. He sent me a private message,
oblique as usual, but I have a feeling that he wants to
settle the succession."

"But there's no question of that, surely? Everybody
knows that you are going to be the next Archmage,"
Jarrod objected.

"Nevertheless, it's always wiser to be at the scene,"
Greylock said darkly.

"Is it that bad?"

"I certainly hope not, but there's no getting away
from the fact that, for a Magician who has accom-
plished as much as he has, survival into one's eighties
is close to a miracle."

"And you would rather that I was here," Jarrod con-
cluded.

"No, I should prefer you be in Celador in case some-
one calls for a quick meeting of the High Council in an
attempt to ram their own candidacy through. The only
trouble is that if we both turned up unexpectedly it
would undoubtedly start rumors and might even precip-
itate action. The Outpost, however, is a lot closer to
Celador than Gwyndryth and days could make all the
difference,"

"I plan to go through Interim, if I can persuade Nas-
trus," Jarrod said, relieved.

"I must be getting old,'* Greylock said with a shake
of his head. "I keep forgetting. Are there bunglebirds
at Celador that home to Gwyndryth?"

THE UNICORN PEACE + 263

"There ought to be, but it might be a good idea to
take one from here. There are four in the cote."

"In that case," Greylock said with a smile, "you'd
better get going. The baby isn't going to wait for you,
you know."

"Thank you, sir. Just send a message if you need me
and I'll be there within hours. 0\i, and please give my
best to the Archmage," Jarrod added, getting to his feet.

Succession of a sort was on Malum's mind as well.
He had thought long and hard about the Emperor's
commission. He had had a momentary qualm, but it
hadn't been enough to keep him awake at night or even
intrude upon his dreams. The Emperor had ordered it
and he was the Emperor's sworn man; besides, it was a
job and could be considered solely on that plane. Lastly,
it was an interesting problem. The death must appear
to be a natural one—not too difficult with a woman as
fat as the Mother Supreme—but there should be a cer-
tain elegance to it. It should also be quick, final and
neat. Not a job that he could entrust to anyone else.

His mind made up, he went into the Imperial Forest
for a solitary ride. Nothing unusual in that; he had done
the same thing often enough before. He returned with
a selection of mushrooms that he hoped were poison-
ous. Once back in his room, he cut them up and boiled
them over the fire in a pannikin. He reduced the liquid
to concentrate it and then drew some off. He set a gob-
bet of raw meat in it and left it to steep overnight. The
next morning he made his way to the twisting streets of
the old town, picked his way along the muddy path
beneath the overhanging buildings until he found a stray
cur in an empty lane and fed it the meat. The dog died
in silence and with gratifying rapidity.

Well pleased, Malum returned to the palace and or-
dered a tray of marchpane from the kitchens. The

264 + JOHN LEE

Mother Supreme was known to have a sweet tooth and
the strong almond scent would disguise the odor of the
mushroom juice. He set the marchpane to soak and then
went out again to purchase a wooden box inlaid with
nacre. That done, he cut the sweetmeat into squares and
assembled them into a suitable-looking offering. Then
he dispatched a page to ask for an audience with Ar-
nulpha.

The Mother Supreme sat in a wide, padded chair.
Behind her sat three lesser priestesses quietly doing em-
broidery. She was not wearing the cloth-of-gold gown
that he associated with her, but rather a voluminous
robe of dark blue silk with darker patches beneath the
armholes. Matching slippers peeped out beneath the
hem. She had, Malum noted, surprisingly small feet for
a woman of her size.

He advanced across the room, the box clamped firmly
against his side, and made his court bow.

"Be welcome, my lord. We are pleased to see you."
The formal mode rolled out in a low, pleasant voice.
She smiled up at him and the small eyes well nigh dis-
appeared.

Malum masked the distaste of the congenitally thin
for the overweight. "I am grateful that Your Serenity
consented to see me," he replied.

Arnulpha watched the dark little man with an interest
tinged with wariness. He was somewhat of a mystery at
Court. He seldom appeared at Imperial functions, but
he was said to have the Emperor's ear.

"Had you not requested an audience, my Lord of
Quern, we should have sought you out."

Mahim's look of surprise was only partly feigned.

"Oh come, sirrah," Arnulpha's said, warm amuse-
ment surfacing, "you have established yourself in our
Emperor's confidence in a remarkably short time. That
makes you a man of importance. We are not in Angom

THE UNICORN PEACE + 265

that often. Surely you would expect that we would wish
to take advantage of the opportunity to make your ac-
quaintance?"

She arrogates the use of the royal we to herself, Malum
thought. I wonder if she dares do it in front of Varodias.
Was there also a touch of the flattened vowels of the
south in her speech? She cozens, he thought. She is mid-
Umbrian born and a daughter of the nobility. She plays
with me. And the Emperor was right; she was damnably
well informed. He produced a self-deprecating smile.

"You do me too much honor, madam. Any influence
that I have is owed not to my talents, but to the good
offices of my former master, the Elector of Estragoth. I
think that His Imperial Majesty talks to me on occasion
because I remind him of his old friend. I fear that he
does not listen to me," he said with apparent frankness,
"on those rare occasions when he asks me for an opin-
ion. In truth it seems to me that His Imperial Majesty
has been ill advised of late, though not by me, in his
dealings with the Mother Church."

"Say you so?" The Mother Supreme's eyebrows were
raised. Whatever it was that she had been expecting
from him, that was not it. "Mayhap we should make
ourselves more comfortable." She gestured toward the
hearth, where a low table and three chairs were set. She
heaved her bulk up, waved a dismissal of the three
priestesses and led the way.

Malum heard the breathlessness that the effort caused
and smiled inwardly. If all went well, he would not have
this chance again. He should get what information he
could before offering his gift.

"I have always considered," he said as he waited for
the Mother Supreme to lower herself into a chair, "that
the Church is one of the binding forces that unites the
Empire. Tradition, of course, is the other great mortar

266 t JOHN LEE

in the structure—village tradition, hereditary lords
bound by liege oaths—but tradition is more easily sun-
dered than the people's belief in the Great Mother."

He placed the box on the floor beside his chair as he
sat and saw Amulpha's eyes flicker over it. "It seems
to me," he continued, "and I would ask that this does
not leave this chamber . . ." He paused until she nodded
her head. "That His Imperial Majesty embarks upon a
course of folly when he opposes the Church." He sat
back and looked at her anxiously.

She leaned forward and rang a small china bell. "We
cannot say that we disagree with you, my lord,'" she
said. "Indeed, we could wish that your counsel had
more weight with the Emperor." She glanced sideways
at him and smiled briefly. "Have no fear," she added,
"we know Varodias passing well. He is not a man sub-
ject to overt pressure. Subtlety and persistence are
needed." She broke off as a novice entered and then
ordered chai and honey cakes without consulting
Malum. She waited until the girl had withdrawn.

"You are an ambitious man, my lord, and nothing
comes for nothing. What is that you would want from
us?"

"From Your Serenity, nothing," Malum replied
smoothly. "My former master's great influence with the
Emperor was founded in his love of the Empire. He
sought her good, not his own gain. I would follow in
his footsteps. As I told you, ma'am, I am convinced that
harmony between Church and Emperor is essential for
the health of the Empire."

The Mother Supreme was about to reply when the
novice returned with a tray. She arranged the crockery
and the cakes and then poured the chai. When she had
withdrawn once more, Arnutpha said, "We have warned
His Imperial Majesty that the Church cannot tolerate
•further attacks on her people and her property. If there

THE UNICORN PEACE + 267

is anything that you can do to see that the Imperial
Guards act upon the assurances given us, you would be
doing the Emperor a service and you would not find us
ungrateful."

Malum nodded and reached down for the box. He
stood and held it out. "A small token. Serenity. I
thought that honey and almonds bound together formed
a symbol of what I hope can be the relationship be-
tween yourself and His Imperial Majesty."

"Prettily put," Amulpha said, opening the box. Her
face lit up. "Marchpane," she exclaimed. "A favorite
of ours." She reached into the box and then stopped.
"Will you join us, my lord?" she asked.

Malum had prepared for this eventuality. The two
rows closest to the side with the clasp were untainted.
He produced hi& smile. "Willingly." He leaned forward
and took one, biting into it without hesitation. The
Mother Supreme sipped her chai and watched him swal-
low. Then she helped herself-

Malum drank some chai and then helped himself to
one of the honey cakes. He watched the Mother Su-
preme out of the comer of his eye,

"Good," she said. "The almond taste is a little strong,
but not unpleasant. We thank you." She took another.

"I am glad they meet with your approval," he said
politely.

The Mother Supreme licked her fingers   and drank
some more other chai. "If the Emperor   will agree," she
began, and then stopped suddenly. Her   eyes widened
and she clutched her belly. Her mouth   opened and a
choking sound emerged.

"Is something the matter. Serenity?" Malum asked
disingenuously.

Amulpha's hand groped out, reaching for the bell.
Malum rose swiftly and moved it out of the way. Re-
alization dawned in the Mother Supreme's eyes, but was

268 + JOHN LEE

quickly extinguished by a spasm of pain. Her heavy
body twisted in the chair and her mouth tried to form
words. Her hands grasped the arms of the chair as she
tried to stand, but a convulsion threw her back. The
mouth began to work again, then the body arched, belly
thrusting upward, and collapsed. Her heels drummed
briefly on the floor and then the head lolled forward,
spreading out her chins.

Malum looked down at her for a beat and then
pressed his fingers into the flesh of her wrist, searching
for a pulse. There was none. He unbuttoned the top of
his doublet, scooped up the remaining pieces of poi-
soned marchpane and dropped them down it. He did
the buttons up again and patted himself lightly to make
sure the pieces didn't show. He rearranged the rest of
the marchpane so that it looked as if a lot had been
eaten. As a final touch he broke off a piece of one of
the cakes, opened the Mother Supreme's mouth and
stuffed it inside. He dropped the other piece on the floor
as if it had fallen from her hand. He stepped back and
surveyed his handiwork before ringing the little bell vi-
olently. He shouted for help.

When the Mother Supreme's attendants came rushing
in, they found Lord Malum of Quern pounding their
mistress on the back.

"Water, get water!" he shouted at the flustered
priestesses. "She's choking." He found that he was
enjoying himself. He would not say a word about this
to the Emperor, he decided. Not unless he asks di-
rectly, he amended. Word of the Mother Supreme's
death would get out almost immediately. If he made
no demands, the Emperor would be certain of his loy-
alty. Let others have the titles; he would control the
policy.

He abandoned his efforts and set the Mother Su-
preme upright. He propped her body against the chair

THE UNICORN PEACE + 269

back. The jaw hung slackly. He looked at the two
women, who were hovering futilely.

"I think one of you should get the Emperor's Wise-
woman, unless Her Serenity travels with one of her
own,'' he said.

Gwyndryth was basking in sunlight when Jarrod and
Nastrus came out of Interim- The meadow that the uni-
corn used as a reference point had been brought under
cultivation and they emerged while women were glean-
ing the stubble, causing consternation. By the time that
Jarrod had recovered from the effects of the trip, the
women were clustered around the unicorn, rubbing its
coat for luck. When they had first come to Gwyndryth,
Jarrod reflected, they had had to sneak the unicorns in
by the back postern and hide them in the cellars. Now
Nastrus was a symbol of good fortune. Since no one
was paying the slightest attention to him, Jarrod took
the opportunity to remove the extra clothing he had
donned for protection against the cold of Interim. No
sooner done than he was recognized.

'Tt's the new lord," one of the women cried, point-
ing. The others fell back and ducked their heads in ac-
knowledgment.

'There's a fine thing,' Nastrus grumbled. 'You're ihe
one commanding respect and all you did was rut with
Marianna.'

Jarrod ignored him. "Give you goodday, ladies," he
said. "I have come for the birthing. Is the Lady Mar-
ianna delivered yet?"

"Not yet. Lord," the observant one said with the
thick burr that characterized the speech of the region,
"leastwise the bell 'asn't rang and they allus ring the
bell for a birthing."

"I'd be best on my way then," he said, and they
moved farther back to give him room.

270 t JOHN LEE

He nudged Nastrus into a trot and waved to the
women. They were cantering by the time they reached
the road. Even though his thoughts were on the Hold,
he noticed that the trees were beginning to turn and that
they weren't as colorful as those up north. The lichened
walls of the Hold came into view and he saw that the
gates were open. No one challenged them as they rode
in. but both he and Nastrus were greeted at the stables
as old friends. Jarrod's new status did not seem to affect
the ostlers and the grooms.

He took his saddlebags and slung them over his
shoulder, bade Nastrus good-bye and made his way to
the house. As he approached the steps, he was greeted
by a middle-aged man he did not know. The man, ob-
viously a gentleman by his dress and his bearing, was
accompanied by a young squire.

"May the best of the day be before you, my lord."
The man bowed deeply. "I am Kerris of Aylwyth, Sen-
eschal of Gwyndryth."

He must have had a lookout posted to get here this
fast, Jarrod thought. "And may your night be tran-
quil," he returned politely. He unslung his saddlebags
and the squire quickly retrieved them. "May I ask what
happened to Sir Ombras?"

"Lord Obray retired to his estate two months ago,"
the Seneschal replied. "His eyesight's failing and his
hearing is none too good."

"I am sorry to hear that. He was a good man and he
served the family well. I must make a point of riding
over to pay my respects while I am here."

''I am sure that it will be much appreciated, Sir Jar-
rod," Aylwyth replied smoothly. "In the meantime,
your quarters have been made ready against your
coming."

"I am obliged to you." He moved forward. "How is
the Lady, er, how is my wife?"

THE UNICORN PEACE t 271

Sir Kerris looked at Jarrod speculatively and then
seemed to come to a decision. "Quite impossible, my
lord," he said straight-faced.

Jarrod's eyes opened wide and then he threw back
his head and laughed. "By the gods, you are a gambling
man, sir. However, the Lady Marianna that I know can
express herself, ah, somewhat forcefully."

Sir Kerris smiled. "She resents being confined," he
said companionably, "and it must indeed be a great
trial for someone as active as my lady. Wisewoman Jaff-
ney thought it best because the Lady Marianna is"—he
glanced up at Jarrod—"not overly young to be with
child." The lips twitched upward slightly. "The Lady
Marianna did not take kindly to the suggestion."
"I can imagine," Jarrod said sympathetically. "In fact
I'm surprised that she agreed to it."

"Well we have Mrs. Merieth to thank for that. She's
the only one who can give my lady orders."

"Merry? I'm surprised that she's still alive."

"She's alive all right and sprightly with it," Aylwyn
said as they climbed the steps. "Her husband died a
good ten years ago. She's been at a loose end since
Master Joscelyn went off into your care. She is really
looking forward to this baby and she is not about to let
Lady Marianna take any unnecessary chances." He
stood aside to let Jarrod go through the door first.

"I forget my manners, my lord," he said. "You must
be tired and hungry after your journey." He snapped
his fingers.

"Hungry more than anything else," Jarrod admitted.
He was, in fact, ravenous.

The squire with the saddlebags appeared.

"Take those up to my lord's suite and put water on
for a bath." The Seneschal turned to Jarrod and ges-
tured to the staircase. "Permit me to escort you to your
quarters," he said formally. "I trust that they will be to

272 + JOHN LEE

your liking. If there is anything lacking, or anything
that you want changed, you have but to tell me."

"I'm sure it will be perfectly satisfactory," Jarrod said
soothingly letting the man lead the way.

"That I think I can promise," Sir Kerris replied, "but
this is, after all, your home and your rooms should suit
you to a T."

My home, Jarrod thought as he mounted the stairs.
I suppose he's right. No, this will always be Marianna's
home. The Outpost is mine.

At the doorway to the apartments he was handed
over to a short, swarthy man with a neatly kept mass
of black hair. He was ushered in with an extravagant
Court bow of unexpected grace. Jarrod turned and
thanked Sir Kerris and asked, diffidently, if some food
could be sent up as soon as possible.

"At once, my lord," the Seneschal said, and de-
parted.

1 like the man, Jarrod thought- No "Is there anything
in particular you feel like eating?"
"I bid you welcome, Lord. I hite Semmurel and have
the honor of being your personal bodyservant." The
man's Common was impeccable, but the accent of the
Southern Marches gave it flavor.

"Greetings, Semmurel," Jarrod returned, looking
around at the dark paneling and tiny windows of the
anteroom. Gwyndryth was one of the oldest Holdings
in Arundel and had, to all appearances, never been
modernized. It had seemed picturesque to him the last
time that he had stayed here, but he had become accus-
tomed to light and fresh air. There would be sugges-
tions that he'd be making to Sir Kerris after all.

Jarrod looked down at his new servant. Bright, black,
button eyes looked back, curious and alert. "You don't
have to use the Formal Mode," he said, "unless there
is company that would require it." He gave a quick,

THE UNICORN PEACE + 273

impersonal smile. "I'll warn you now that my Arunic,
while not perfect, is good, especially when it comes to
swear words. I had an excellent tutor."

Semmurel grinned. "I shall be mindful of that, my
lord. May I show you the rest of the rooms?"

"By all means." Jarrod followed him through the in-
ner door.

The bedchamber was large and well appointed. The
windows were larger here, the traditional inside shutters
folded back against the walls. It wasn't gloomy, the
walls were whitewashed, but Jarrod still found it cheer-
less. The bed was large and canopied. There were two
clothespresses and a wardrobe, all three heavily carved,
a fireplace with a cauldron hanging over the flames, two
armchairs with rush seats, a table against one wall and
half a dozen side chairs around the others. There was a
well-worn carpet by the bed, but apart from that the
planks were bare.

"Through yonder door there is a writing cabinet with
the garderobe off it. It's big enough for the jakes and a
decent tub." He produced an ingratiating little smile.
"Luckily for my not too stalwart back, the fireplace is
big enough to heat the water in. Lucky for you too, my
lord; your baths will be hotter."

"Are there quills and ink?" Jarrod asked.

"There are, and there are a number of pieces of
parchment."

"Good. I shall also need shelves for books, but that
is not an immediate concern."

"Very good, my lord. I shall make a note of it." Sem-
murel gestured to the wardrobe. "That is your ward-
robe and there are some of the outfits that the Lady
Marianna bade me make for you." He made a self-
deprecating little movement. "I am by way of doubling
as a tailor," he said.

He coughed, as if embarrassed. "Her Ladyship made

274 + JOHN LEE

it very clear to me that . . ." His voice petered out.
"That is to say that Her Ladyship would prefer it if
you did not wear Magician's robes while in residence."
He took half a pace back as if anticipating an out-
burst.

Jarrod watched him for a couple of beats. "In that
case, let us see what my wife considers suitable attire."
He was far from certain that he would like her taste in
men's clothes.

"As you say. Lord," Semmurel said quickly. "And,
if it would not be too much trouble, I should appre-
ciate it if Your Lordship would try on a couple of
things. Just until the food comes," he hastened to add.
He essayed a smile. "Her Ladyship was quite precise
about the sizes, but memories can sometimes play
tricks."

"Quite so."

Jarrod began to unbutton his jacket. He hadn't
known what to expect at Gwyndryth, but it definitely
wasn't this.

An hour later, wearing pale blue with dark gray pip-
ing, bathed, shaved and scented, he was shown into
Marianna's bedchamber on the top floor. It had a big
window that opened onto the roof and the midday sun
shone in brightly. The Lady of the Holding was propped
up in the grand, carved bed, wearing a pale green night-
robe, with a matching ribbon securing the pulled-back
hair. There was an open account book on the counter-
pane beside her. She did not look up and he had a
moment to study her. The first thing that registered was
that she was plump, a mild shock in one who has always
been thin. The second was the enormous bulge beneath
the covers. She glanced in his direction and her face lit
up. She is truly beautiful, Jarrod thought as he smiled
at her.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 275

"Jarrod! They didn't tell me that you'd arrived. When
did you get here?"

"Just over an hour ago," he said, advancing to the
bedside. "Long enough to have a bath and a meal and
don this finery." He extended his arms and rotated to
display the clothes. "What do you think?"
"You look very handsome and everything seems to
fit properly," she said. "I was afraid that the sleeves
and the trousers would be too short."

"No, they're fine, though I shall have to watch what
I eat. My new man gives me to understand that robes
are unwelcome here."

"Well, as my husband, you are required to show an
amount of state. The tenants expect it. It's important
for our standing in the region and people are very sen-
sitive to that. In a great many cases, their self-esteem is
attached to us. Besides, most people tend to be afraid
of Magicians and especially of Mages."

"It's a shame, then, that I can't do anything about
my height," he said with more asperity than he had
intended.

"Now don't be difficult, Jarrod dear," she said with
unwonted calmness. "You have to realize that, at
Gwyndryth, you have to play the part of my husband-
What you do at Stronta, or at Celador for that matter,
is entirely your affair, but here we have customs and
traditions that go back for centuries. What matters
here is the peace and productivity of the demesne and
of my father's tenants. There are certain obligations
that come with your position. You will have to pre-
side at Hall tonight for instance, and we shall have to
have a feast for the vassals and tenants in your
honor."

She looked up at him and smiled. "I can't promise
that we won't have to give a feast to celebrate," she

276 + JOHN LEE

patted her stomach with both hands, "the arrival of this
one."

Jarrod sat down on the edge of the bed and reached
out a tentative hand.

"Go ahead," she said. "It won't bite."

He placed his hand gently on the swelling covers. All
he could feet was the curving counterpane with its welts
of embroidery.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Oh, I feel bloated and uncomfortable," she said as
if ticking off her blessings. "My back hurts, I feel as if
I need to go to the garderobe every ten minutes and my
feet and ankles are swollen." She favored him with a
mincing smile more usually seen on the faces of Court
ladies making light conversation.

"Most of all, and most oddly of all, I have the dis-
tinct feeling that this is not my body. It does what it
wants and I have no control of it. It is as if I were
outside myself observing this other person. At other
times it is as if I were trapped in someone else's body."

"Is there anything that I can do?" he asked.

She laughed. "Not unless you have a spell to speed
delivery and make it painless." Her eyes widened sud-
denly and she caught her breath.

She grabbed Jarrod's hand and pulled it back to her
belly. He felt the baby's kick clear through the covers.
He looked at Marianna, his own eyes round.

'•Oh gods," he said. "It's alive."

"It's a very active little person," she replied in a tone
of amused resignation.

"When ... ?" he began.

"Soon," Marianna said. "Pray to the gods that it be
soon."

"And the Wisewoman's good, is she?"

"Bloody woman treats me like a fragile child," Mar-
ianna said with a flash of her old belligerence. "She's

THE UNICORN PEACE + 277

even got Merry convinced. Bland food, no wine, no
mandragora—you'd think I'd never had a baby be-
fore."

"I'm sure they know best," Jarrod began soothingly
and then changed his tack when he caught the look on
her face. "Well, I'll undertake to put on a brave show
at Hall if you promise to behave yourself."

She made a face. "I don't have much of a choice do
I?" she said with a trace of bitterness. "The unspeaka-
ble Jaffney won't let me do anything. Every time one of
my factors visits, it takes a battle royal to get him ad-
mitted. The harvest is in and all the shipping arrange-
ments have to be made. We had a bumper crop this
year and the Isphardis are paying a decent price for a
change." She tapped the account book. "If I can ar-
range for quick delivery before the other Holdings get
themselves organized, this will be the most profitable
year I've ever had. I should be down at Seaport. Instead
of which, I'm cooped up in this room."

"Can't Sir Kerris help?" Jarrod inquired mildly. "He
seems to be a competent man."

"Oh, he'll make a good enough   Seneschal. He's well
liked and he's honest. But he   knows nothing about
commerce. In fact he would be   highly offended if I sug-
gest that he get involved. My   factors are good, but they
need watching. If you don't keep a sharp eye on them,
they'll rob you blind."

Jarrod noticed that her explanation of her business
difficulties had restored some of her good humor. 'The
Oligarch Olivderval thinks highly of your trade ven-
ture," he remarked, "and coming from her, that's quite
a compliment."

Marianna smiled. "It doesn't stop her from driving a
hard bargain," she said. 'The men are far easier to deal
with."

I'll just wager they are, Jarrod thought. "Well, I'm

278 t JOHN LEE

pleased to see that you are looking so well and I'm glad
that I got here in time. And don't worry, I shan't let
you down with the tenants." He leaned over and kissed
her on the forehead and then made his escape while she
was still in a good mood.

The Lord Chancellor hesitated before entering the
Privy Chamber. He had been announced and the Queen
had to have his report, but he knew that she would be
distressed by the news and, given the wrong royal mood,
such distress could result in the removal of his head. The
trouble was that Her Majesty had been in a series of
terrible moods ever since the wedding. He drew a deep
breath and plucked up the front of his robe. Whatever
the outcome, he would make a suitable entrance. He
cleared the sill and let the garment go as he advanced
into the presence. The skirt of his robe swept the floor
and gathered sweet herbs as he crossed the room. The
Queen, dressed this day in an eye-disorienting combi-
nation of plum and puce, sat waiting upon the throne
while her ladies-in-waiting chatted quietly. He came to a
halt and bowed deeply.

''My Lord of Brynhaven, we are pleased to see you,"
Naxania said, though she looked far from pleased.

He cleared his throat before speaking. "I am here to
report to Your Majesty upon a development in your
realm." He was nervous and he sounded stilted. Nax-
ania had a very poor record of dealing graciously with
bearers of bad tidings.

"And what is it that our Lord Chancellor has to tell
us?" Naxania inquired.
"The Duke of Abercorn is dead, ma'am."
He stood and waited for the tongue-lashing.
"It is not unexpected," the Queen said mildly.
"Mage Courtak is his successor of record," the Chan-
cellor added.

THE UNICORN PFACE + 279

"We know that. We do not like it. but we know that."
There was no mistaking that tone of voice. She looked
at him and Brynhaven felt a shiver of fear between his
shoulder blades. "What to you intend to do about it?"
she asked sharply.

"Do about it. Majesty? I do not understand. There is
nothing I can do about it. There is no other direct heir.''

"Then find one."

"I am sorry. Your Majesty, but there is no other di-
rect successor, and, much as I would like to please you,
ma'am, with Jarrod Courtak, the discoverer of the un-
icorns, living, there is nothing that can be done."

"Are you telling me, Chancellor," she said with ter-
rible quiet, "that if it is our royal will that this Courtak
be destroyed, or, more simply, deprived of his inheri-
tance, that you would not obey us?"

Lord Brynhaven's chin descended to his chest and he
swallowed. He did not think of himself as a brave man,
but in this he knew that he would have to oppose her.
He lifted his head.

"If Your Majesty permits, I would suggest that Jar-
rod Courtak is beyond reach at this point, short of as-
sassination. If you attack him, the people will rise on
his behalf. As a Mage, he oppresses no one; as a land-
owner, on the other hand, he will rouse his share of
opponents. Therein may lie Your Majesty's advantage."

"There is no advantage to the throne in that man's
assumption of the Dukedom of Abercorn. It puts en-
tirely too much power in the hands of the Discipline.
Besides, he has too much money as it is." She sounded
peevish.

This was obviously not the time to remind the Queen
that she herself was a Magician. "Your Majesty can
impose a very stiff inheritance tax." Brynhaven sug-
gested.

280 + JOHN LEE

"Indeed we can." The Queen smiled a small, unpleas-
ant smile. "And who knows, our young Mage will yet
be tempted into politics." The smile broadened. "Once
that happens, a charge of treason is a relatively simple
thing and then we can confiscate the lands." She nod-
ded two or three times before fixing him with a glitter-
ing eye. "See that the estate is assessed at the absolute
maximum," she said. "You may go."

Lord Brynhaven backed from the presence pro-
foundly grateful that he had survived the ordeal. Life
at Court had become as unsettled and unsettling as it
was said to be at Angorn.

The news of the birth came just as the welcoming
feast was reaching its climax. The oohs and aahs that
greeted the appearance of the elaborate desserts were
silenced by the abrupt cacophony of a bell. Jarrod
glanced inquiringly at Lady Aylwyth and then the
meaning struck him. He pushed his chair back and
jumped to his feet as the cheering broke out. He raced
from the dais without a word to his dinner companions
and took the stairs two at a time. He pulled up in front
of Marianna's antechamber and did his best to get his
breathing under control.

He walked quietly through the empty outer room
and entered the bedchamber without knocking. Mar-
ianna was lying in the bed with the covers pulled up
to her chin. Her eyes were closed, her face was white
except for the black half-circles under her eyes, and
her hair was dark with sweat. The coverlet was almost
flat. Mrs. Merieth was sitting on the far side of the bed
and the Wisewoman was standing on the near side.
She turned and he saw a bundle in a white blanket in
her arms. She smiled broadly at him and dropped a
little curtsy.

THE UNICORN PEACE




"You have a bonny daughter, my lord," she said and
held out her arms.

He walked over, feeling suddenly unsteady, and
looked down at the small, creased, red face. Fine brown
hair was plastered to the skull. The eyes, like her moth-
er's, were closed.

"Is she ... ?"

"Indeed she is. Perfect in every limb. She screamed
the place down until she was washed and then the little
beauty went straight to sleep."

"It'll be nice to have a girl to tend again," Merry put
in.

"And my wife?" Jarrod asked.

"Sleeping too. She'll be braw when she wakes and
better still when she's fed the bairn." Merry nodded at
her own wisdom and knowledge.

"Did she have . . . ? Was it difficult?"

Merry smiled, revealing missing teeth. "Och, she
wailed and cursed like a dying soldier, but it was no
harder than her first. She always was one for the dra-
matics."

Jarrod found himself grinning inanely at the women.
He was a father. That miniature ancient in the Wise-
woman's arms was his daughter. He reached out an
enormous forefinger and smoothed the slick, silk hair,
marveling at the tiny perfection of ear and mouth. He
felt the rising euphoria that he associated with Magic
making. He blinked and found that his eyes were full
of tears, blurring his sight of her. He looked mutely
from one woman to the other and swallowed convul-
sively. He brushed the tears away and caught his lower
lip between his teeth. He walked softly to the bed,
stooped and kissed the sleeping Mananna.

He straightened up, beamed at the two women,
blinked hard again, and then made his way carefully to
the door. He turned.

282 + JOHN LEE

"Regrettably, I have guests below. Thank you, la-
dies," he said. "If I am not here when the Lady Mar-
ianna wakes, tell her that I love her."

He bowed to each in turn and let himself out. His
whoop of joy rang clearly through the doors and the
two women smiled at one another knowingly.

"Mayhap she's made a good choice this time,
m'dear," Mrs. Merieth said.

ChAptCR 24

^B arrod spent the next two days in a state of intoxi-
cation that had little to do with alcohol, although he
was required to drink more than a few toasts. In an
effort to break free from the castle's attentions, he rode
out to visit Sir Ombras. The old man was glad to see
him—inactivity obviously weighed on him—but Jarrod
found himself feeling sad at the way that old age had
treated the Seneschal and oddly resentful of the way
that the feeling intruded on his happiness. Nothing,
however, could cloud his mood for long. He relished
the banquet that was held to celebrate his daughter's
arrival. Flushed with wine, he went so far as to kidnap
the baby from a protesting Merry and parade her
around the Hall as if she were a special dish, which,
from his point of view, she was. Merieth followed be-
hind them muttering imprecations and cautions, but
making no overt moves to restrain him.

He visited Marianna every day, but she was doing
her fair share of sleeping. Occasionally he was allowed
to peek in on her and saw that she was resting in what
seemed like peace. He worried, nevertheless, and voiced
his concerns to Wisewoman Jaffney. She seemed so pale
and lifeless, in contrast to the lusty yelling and redness
of his daughter. While his daughter had assumed, un-
invited and of a sudden, an enormous place in his heart,
he still worried about his wife.

Quite normal, he was assured. The Lady Marianna
284 + JOHN LEE

was considered old, from a childbearing point of view.
Jarrod smiled to himself at the idea of what Marianna
would have responded to that had she been awake. His
wife, he was told, had led an active life and her muscles
were those of a much younger woman, but she needed
rest; labor was never easy; he must have patience. The
final phrase, dismissive, was "You'll be sent for when
Her Ladyship feels up to it." And with that, he had to
be content.

Jarrod retired to his rooms feeling useless, his former
elation quite dispelled. He took off the clothes that he
had donned with such care and went and sat on the
bed, chin in hands. He was used to being in control of
things—other people did his bidding, usually without
his having to ask—but Marianna remained an unreach-
able enigma. His eyes sought the window and he was
reminded again of how small it was. He was circum-
scribed here, the lord, the "new" lord, but scarcely head
of the household. Both Marianna and Darius preceded
him and always would. He was a foreigner here, an
outsider. He had titles, yes, and land, but they meant
nothing in these parts. The baby was his only claim to
consideration.

It was in this melancholy condition that Semmurel
found him.

"My lord, my lord, a message, a message from
Stronta."

Jarrod looked up. "Calmly, calmly. Now, what does
it say?"

"I don't know, sir," the valet said, brimming with
righteousness. "This one was written and it was not my
place to read it."

"Quite right, Semmurel." Jarrod held out his hand
and a small, tightly rolled squip of paper was placed in
it. "The magnifying glass if you please."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 285

Jarrod smoothed out the message and moved the glass
back and forth until the words came clear.

"Your uncle Abercorn is dead. You have inherited
title and estates. Congratulations. Tokamo."

He read it twice and the valet, watching closely, de-
cided that the news was bad. Such stillness did not bode
well.

The truth was that Jarrod was having difficulty com-
prehending. He had denied his family for so long,
blocked off the hurt that their denial of him had caused,
that he could not react now. They were all gone and he
had never known a one of them, not even his parents.
Action of some sort was required, that he knew. He
would have to swear fealty to Naxania at some point
and, knowing the Queen, there were bound to be com-
plications. He sighed, confirming Semmurel's suspi-
cions. He had never wanted this, he had avoided any
and all involvements, but now events had caught up
with him. He sat up and, with difficulty, ripped the little
message into smaller shreds. Semmurel hovered expec-
tantly, but Jarrod didn't feel like confiding.

"I thank you," he said. "You may go."

He waited until the doors were closed and then went
and got his blue Magician's gown out of the press. In
this at least he could be his own man. He made his way
up to the bunglebird cote and sent the keeper off on an
errand before coaching a none-too-cooperative bird in
a message for Tokamo. He took it up to the launching
platform and released it. He stood and watched it circle
before it lurched off in a northeasterly direction.

He was distracted at Hall that night and less than the
perfect host. He was aware of it and hoped that the
others put his mood down to the strains of becoming a
first-time father rather than displeasure with their com-
pany. He was also aware that that would be taken as a
sign of weakness. Noblemen were supposed to take such

286 + JOHN LEE

things in their stride and he was now, beyond all doubt,
a nobleman.

That night he tossed and turned before he slept and,
when he did, he dreamed. He was back at the castle
that he had helped to build, but it was different. There
was glass in the windows, for one thing, and there were
signs that the place was occupied, though he could see
no people. The peculiar dread that he had felt in the
first dream was with him again, but this time he knew
the reason for it. The invisible occupants of the castle
were threatened, though by what, or by whom, he did
not know.

He turned and looked out over the plain. Nothing
but waving grass to be seen, but that gave him no com-
fort. When he turned back, he saw that there was some-
one standing on the battlements above the main door.
He could not make out the features, but the figure's
scarlet robe blazed in the sunshine. He struggled for-
ward, trying to see who it was, but his feet were mired.
If he could get free, he could help; he knew it. He
fought, but his progress was infinitely slow and the
man's face grew no clearer. The menace was building
and he was going to be too late. He tried to shout a
warning, but no sound came. He tried again, hurling
himself forward, and the effort brought him awake, tan-
gled in the sheet, teeth clamped on the bolster.
Jarrod rose and washed and Made the Day, as was
his wont. For once the ritual did not have its restorative
power and, after a hasty breakfast, he headed down to
the stables. A ride with Nastrus would undoubtedly
clear away the lingering cobwebs.

'A cloud in the sunny skies of your disposition,' the
unicorn commented as Jarrod saddled him. 7 suppose
the wonderful feelings had to wear off eventually, but I
had hoped that they would keep going a while longer.
Your happiness is quite irresistible, even if it is occasioned

THE UNICORN PEACE + 287

by something as mundane as siring a foal. I admit, though,
that it has generated a strong urge in me to return home
and join in the rut.'

'Stay a little while longer,' Jarrod thought back as he
guided Nastrus through the busy courtyard and out
through the gate. 7 shall need your support if anything
happens to Marianna.'

'Typically human,' Nastrus rejoined as he broke into
a canter. 'If you spent more time enjoying the moment
and less time bothering about things that you can't con-
trol, you'd be a lot better off.'

7 know you're right,' Jarrod said, leaning forward to
adjust to the change in gait, 'but I have a lot on my mind.
There's Marianna and now this business of having very
large new estates to take care of and, on top it all off, I
had a very peculiar dream last night. About the castle we
built.'

'Show me,' Nastrus responded laconically.
Jarrod transmitted the memory and waited for Nas-
trus to comment. Nothing came.
'Well, what do you think?' he asked.
'It makes no sense,' Nastrus said dismissively.
'Nor did the first one,' Jarrod thought back with rather
more heat than he had intended, 'but I saw conical tur-
rets in that one and it turned out that Chatham Greygor
had a fondness for them. I didn 't seek him out. I didn 't
say anything about the place that I had dreamed about,
but he reproduced it. How do you explain that?'

7 don't,' Nastrus replied. 'It could be happenstance, it
could be destiny. How should a unicorn know? Besides,
how do you know that this latest night vision has anything
to do with you? You didn't know the person on the walls.
If there is any truth in it, and I'm not saying that there
is, what makes you think that you will be involved, human
vanity apart? If I recall correctly, there was much talk
between you humans when we were building the place

288 + JOHN LEE

about how it would be many of your generations before
humans came there again. As I said. if you spent less time
gelling into a lather about things you can't control, you'd
be a lot happier.'

'Fat lot of help you are,' Jarrod said grumpily.

'Ah well, maybe one of these days you'll listen to me,'
Nastrus said complacently. 'In the meantime, I'd like to
get in a decent gallop.'

As Nastrus accelerated smoothly, Jarrod began to
meld into the flow and control of the powerful muscles
as they ate up the ground. The unicorn's pleasure at the
speed and movement became his own and his worries
seemed insignificant. He breathed in deeply. There was
a tang and crispness to the air and the wind of their
passage felt cleansing. His spirits rose. Nastrus was
right. The countryside was lovely, the weather was spar-
kling^, his duties at Gwyndryth far from arduous, his
daughter was healthy and sure to be beautiful. He was
indeed the most fortunate of men.

'Of course I'm right,' Nastrus thought condescend-
ingly and accelerated before Jarrod could reply.

Marianna's summons came the following day. Jarrod
made Semmurel show him five outfits before he settled
on one. Then he changed his mind. He shaved himself,
though he had done it when he first got up, and he spent
a long time brushing his hair. Semmurel watched him
with a knowing smile and helped him to dress. Jarrod
felt absurdly nervous and the feeling lasted through the
corridors and into Marianna's room.

She was still in bed, propped up against the pillows,
but there was color in her cheeks and her hair was neatly
dressed. He walked over and kissed her on the cheek.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" he asked.

"Almost human," she replied.

"I was beginning to worry," he said, sitting down on
the edge of the bed.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 289

She took his hand and pressed it gently. "You're very
sweet, but I shall be fine. We Gwyndrths are a tough
lot. I shall be up and about again in a day or so." She
let go of his hand.

"You take all the time you need," Jarrod said quickly-
"You don't want to overdo it too soon."

One eyebrow went up. "Have you been studying to
be a Wisewoman?" she asked with a touch of her old
mischief.

"How's our girl?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Sleeping for now. She'll be hungry soon." Marianna
shook her head as if in disbelief. "She's always hun-
gry."

"That's a good sign, isn't it?"

"I suppose so."

"Is she big for a girl baby?"

"Is she going to grow up to be Talented, that's what
you man, isn't it?"

"Well, it's a natural question." Jarrod replied defen-
sively.

Marianna's hands plucked at the coverlet and she
watched them as if they belonged to someone else. Then
she lifted them in the equivalent of a shrug and looked
up at him. "There's no way to tell. They don't start
growing tall until they're six or seven. At least that's
the way it was with Joscelyn."

"You'd rather she wasn't Talented, wouldn't you?"

"Frankly, yes." She was blunt. "I've already got one
child who's going to be a Magician, I'd prefer that this
one stayed home. Besides, it would make things harder
for her. I doubt that young female Magicians are much
courted, or have an easy time finding playmates."

Jarrod nodded, not knowing what to say. "It's a
shame that Joscelyn couldn't be here for the birth," he
ventured.

"I know," she said. "I thought about it, but, given

290 + JOHN LEE

his record, plus the fact that he came to the wedding, I
didn't think that Dean Handrom would take kindly to
the suggestion."

"I'm sure you're right," Jarrod concurred.

"But what I wanted to see you about was the baby,"
Marianna added.

"Her being a Magician?" Jarrod asked. "We can't do
anything about that. She'll either turn out to be Tal-
ented, or she won't."

"No, silly, not that. About calling her 'the baby,' 'the
child,' 'the girl.' It's time that she had a name. Do you
have any preferences?" She glanced up at him. "There's
no need to look so surprised," she said.

"I'm surprised at myself. The fact is that I really haven't
given it thought." He smiled sheepishly. "The fact is that
I had sort of assumed that it would be a boy."
"Are you disappointed?"

"Not in the least," Jarrod said with conviction. "I
loved her the moment I saw her." He noticed her smile
and misinterpreted it. "How about you?" he asked. "I
know you wanted another son to continue the line."

The smile widened. "We'll just have to make sure
that Josceyin marries and has children. Still, that's in
the future. What we have to decide on now is a name.
If it had been a boy, I wanted to call it after my father,
but I don't have any strong preferences about a girl's
name."

"That reminds me," he said, "I rather expected that
your father would be here by now."

"He's on his way. It takes a little longer without a
unicorn."

"We could call her Daria," Jarrod suggested. "It's
got an nice sound to it."

Marianna's eyes lit- "Daddy would love it," she said,
and then paused. "There's only one problem."

"And that is?"

THE UNICORN PEACE + 291

"Well, he was bound to spoil her. but this will put
the cap on it. I'm going to have my work cut out
undoing the damage that you two will do.''

"I'm perfectly capable of being an evenhanded fa-
ther," Jarrod objected.

"Rubbish," Marianna said succinctly and good-
naturedly. "Little girls are born with the ability to wrap
their fathers around their little fingers."

"Ha! Seeing the way Joscelyn's turned out, it can be
argued that boys can do the same with their mothers,"
he said teasingly.

"Unfair; low blow," she protested.

"Maybe the next one will be a boy and then I'll come
into my own," Jarrod said.

The eyebrow went up again. "The next one?" She
snorted and pressed herself back into the pillows. "The
man's way of controlling an intelligent woman; keep
her pregnant." There was a tinge of acid in the voice.
"Well, husband mine, the equation is a little different
for women. A night of pleasure, if we're lucky, nine
months of discomfort and hours of agony. You'll for-
give me if I don't look on the process with quite your
enthusiasm."
"Daria, DucHess of Abercorn; it's got a nice ring to
it, don't you think?" Jarrod asked.

"What are you talking about?" she asked back.

Jarrod grinned. "Well, she'll have to   wait awhile, of
course, and there can't be a brother.   I haven't had a
chance to tell you, but my uncle died   and I've inherited
the title. You are now the Duchess of   Abercom."

"Am I indeed." She smiled up at him. "Very grand.
Do we have a nice coat of arms?"

"I'm not really sure," Jarrod admitted. "I think it's
got stags and sheaves of corn."

"Oh Jarrod, you are impossible," she said. Her eyes
narrowed in speculation. "We'll have to go down and

292 + JOHN LEE

show ourselves as soon as I'm fit to travel. A grand tour
of all the properties. I can use my old gowns there,
people won't have seen them, and get a new set for here.
In the meantime we shall have to appoint a really good
seneschal. If we don't, your rights will be eroded."

She sat up, eyes sparkling. "It would be best if it was
a Paladinian. Country folk don't take kindly to being
ordered about by foreigners. Do you know anyone suit-
able?"

This is the most animated she's been since I got here,
Jarrod thought.

"As a matter of fact I've asked Tokamo to go down
and take inventory for me," he said.

"Oh yes, he was our ring bearer. Are you sure you
can trust him?"

"We've been friends since we were boys," Jarrod re-
turned. "Besides, he's wonderful with figures and the
appearance of a Magician at Oxeter ought to engender
respect, if not outright fear." He gave her a sly smile.
"People seem to have difficulty lying to a Magician."

"Clever man," she said, and pulled him down for a
kiss. "Oh I am glad that I married you." She let him
go and vertical frown lines appeared in her forehead.
"D'you suppose that my father knew that you were go-
ing to inherit when he insisted that I marry you?"

"Knowing your father, I shouldn't be at all surprised.
I was probably the only person in the Kingdom who
wasn't expecting it."

She looked at him for a beat as if about to criticize.
Instead she said, "Ooh, Naxania is going to hate this."
There was glee in her voice.

"Well I'm glad that the title makes you happy," he
said, turning his head. There was no mistaking the tone
of voice.

"Jarrod?" She reached forward. "Jarrod, there's
something bothering you. I can tell. I've known you too

THE UNICORN PEACE + 293

long. If there's something that's bothering you, you have
to tell me. After all, isn't that what marriage is about?"
She widened her eyes and leaned back into the pillows,
inviting his confidence.

He sat silent for a while, encouraged, but embar-
rassed. His hands wanted to. twist together, but he
stopped them. His lips, unsupervised, pursed and moved
from side to side.

"This is very difficult," he said, head moving awk-
wardly like a schoolboy's. He took a breath and then
looked at her directly. "Look," he said. "I know that
this wasn't part of your master plan, but," he paused,
"but," he hesitated again, "I love the baby very much,"
he concluded in a rush, "and I love you very much as
well," he ended in a mumble.

"I'm enormously fond of you too, dear," she said,
reaching forward and patting his hand. "But you have
to understand that we made this arrangement precisely
because we both had individual lives to lead." She shook
her head and then looked at him. "Jarrod, my very
dear," she said slowly. "I went into this because I
wanted a child, not a husband, I made that perfectly
plain. You accepted those terms. The marriage wasn't
my idea, though I'm enormously grateful that you con-
sented to it. I am, as I said, hugely fond of you, but I
will not countenance you, or any man, walking in here
and taking over Gwyndryth." The eyes narrowed.
"Gwyndryth is mine. My father has titular control, but
no other man will until I am dead." She stopped and
looked at him, half defiant, half sad.

Jarrod held her gaze. His eyes were steady, but the
inside of him was bubbling. He reached out and cap-
tured her hands. He smiled at her and the smile grew.
It disconcerted her. He knew it and it pleased him.

"You silly, little goose," he said, and then the smile
broke into a grin. "I could care less about Gwyndryth.

294 t JOHN LEE

It's yours to have and to hold and to run any way you
please. All I care about is you and our daughter." He
sat back and the grin faded. "I won't interfere," he said
seriously, "but I expect to see you and I expect to see
our daughter on a regular basis."
She smiled, and the smile was warm, and she squeezed
his hands before she let them go. "I'm a very lucky
woman," she said. She looked back up at him.^"You
know, I really do love you." She sounded surprised.
The eyes narrowed. "However, you'll oblige me by not
letting it go to you head," she added with her old spirit.
"Now, go and see your daughter."

He bent down and kissed her on the cheek before
taking his leave.

Mrs. Merieth was standing in the anteroom with the
baby cradled in her arms. Jarrod went straight over to
her and bent over the bundle. "We're going to call you
Daria," he crooned.

"Daria is it then?" Merry said. "The Master will be
pleased with that."

"Marianna said he'd spoil her rotten," Jarrod said,
straightening up.

"So he will," Mrs. Merieth replied comfortably.
"That's what grandparents are for."

Jarrod gazed down at the sleeping child and felt the
tenderness well up. The face had lost the angry red of
birth and was soft and still and pink. There would be
so many more changes in the weeks and months ahead
and, he realized with a pang, he would not be there to
see them. He reached out a tentative finger and stroked
her cheek. And what sort of mother would Marianna
be? She was not the type to stay in the nursery. She had
a Holding to run and a business besides. And, in truth,
it was Gwyndryth that was her first love, would always
be.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 295

"I wish," he said to Mrs. Merieth. "that I didn't have
to leave her and go back to Stronta."

"You're a sweet man, my lord," Merry said, rocking
the baby gently, "but there's no place for a man in a
nursery- Raising bairns is woman's work."

"I know, but you'll have to admit that the Lady Mar-
ianna isn't exactly the domestic type."

Merry cackled. "Gods love you, I'm the one that'll
tend to that. I raised the young mistress and you'll
have to admit that she hasn't turned out badly. There's
no need to fash yourself. Little Daria will be just
fine.''

Jarrod was not at all certain that he wanted his
daughter to grow up to be exactly like her mother, but
there was no way he could say that to Mrs. Merieth.
Tradition was too strong to allow him to make too
many demands. There was no cult of the Great Mother
in Arundel, but there might as well have been.

"There are no better hands that she could be in, Mrs.
Merieth," he said diplomatically.

"You take care of the mistress and I'll take care of
the young 'un," she said with a knowing grin.

Jarrod nodded and smiled. I must arrange some way
of seeing more of my daughter, he thought as he
walked out, though he had no idea of how he could
arrange it.

There were no guests at Hall that night and, perhaps
as a consequence, Jarrod drank too much. He did not
make a spectacle of himself, managed to talk civilly to
both Sir Kerris and his wife about matters pertaining
to the Holding, but he was aware as he negotiated the
stairs to his chambers that he was a mite unsteady.
Semmurel was waiting to help him undress and to put
his clothes away, but if he noticed that anything was
amiss, he was wise enough not to let it show. Jarrod
washed with care and bade the man good night as the

296 + JOHN LEE

bed curtains were pulled. He did not remember going
to sleep.

When he woke to Make the Day, his mouth was dry
and his head hurt. Cold water alleviated the symptoms
and the ritual banished the pain. He was contemplating
going back to bed, but Semmurel was waiting for him
when he reached the room. He looked excited and he
was holding a piece of paper in his hand.

"A message, sir; from the capital, sir; by bunglebird."
He waved the paper. "I took the liberty of transcribing
it," he added, his previous rectitude apparently forgot-
ten.

"Let me have some chai first, Semmurel, then you
can read me the message," Jarrod said and went and
sat on the bed.

Semmurel complied and waited patiently as Jarrod
sipped the hot liquid. When his master was finished,
Semmurel cleared his throat and read, "Ragnor dead.
Return Celador immediately." He looked at Jarrod. "It
is from Greylock. At least that is what I think the bird
said."

Jarrod felt a sudden emptiness that had nothing to
do with the previous night's indulgence. "Why didn't
you tell me that right away?" he said tiredly, and then
waved his hand to cut off the answer that he knew
would come. He felt tears prick at his eyelids.

"Get out one of my Magician's robes, Seromurel," he
said gruffly. "Then go and ask Sir Kerris to attend me
here immediately. Word of this must be taken to the
Holdmaster. After that, present my respects to the Lady
Marianna and tell her that I must see her within the
hour."

"Immediately, my lord. And shall I be accompanying
you?"

"I'm afraid not. I shall be leaving alone and I shall

THE UNICORN PEACE t 297

travel by unicorn. There's no possible way that you
could keep up."

"Very well, sir. I'll pack some things for you. And,
sir, I'm very sorry to have been the bearer of such bad
tidings."

"The worst of all possible tidings," Jarrod said sadly.
"He was a great man, but he was also my friend."

ch^ptCR 25

• arrod had spoken from his heart, but he had also
expressed the feelings of a great many people on Strand.
Ragnor had been Archmage for as long as most could
remember. There had been no other Archmage, with the
possible exception of Errathuel, seen by so many in the
flesh. His long tenure, coupled with the final defeat of
the Outlanders, had fueled rumors that he was the leg-
end returned. It was a rumor that the old man had never
denied. He had told Jarrod, on their triumphal tour
around Strand, that such speculation enhanced the im-
age of the Discipline, but, close as Jarrod was to him
at that point, he wasn't certain if the Archmage was
being serious or simply disingenuous.

The news of the death raced across the land. It took
a fortnight to reach Angorn and a sennight more to
penetrate as far south as Quern. Even in the Empire,
where magic was viewed with suspicion at the best of
times, there was a sense of personal loss. This was one
death that struck a universal chord. Peasants in Um-
bria, tradesmen in Isphardel, herdsmen in Songuard, all
felt his passing as keenly as the Magicians at the Out-
post.

In was in Arundel, however, that the outpourings of
grief were most intense. Ragnor's time as Regent was
recalled with nostalgia in town, hamlet and holding.
Contributions to the Discipline flooded in. Flowers and
offerings were left at the bases of the many statues that

THE UNICORN PEACE + 299

had been erected at the time of the victory over the
Everlasting Foe. Ragnor would have enjoyed it all im-
mensely. The Court was in deep mourning and the
crowds that thronged into the capital were subdued,
though there was an undercurrent of excitement. Every
crowned head and notable on Strand was expected to
attend.

Jarrod and Marianna materialized in the post-harvest
stubble of the field beyond the walls. Jarrod had ex-
pected to make the trip on his own, but Marianna had
been adamant. She had been up yelling for her tiring
woman before Jarrod was out of the room. Nastrus
pulled grumblingly at the brown stalks and Jarrod
slipped off his back to lighten the load. He took off his
cloak and slung it over the back of the saddle. As they
approached the city they saw that the walls were draped
with black cloth. There were no flags flying. The guards
at the gate wore purple sashes. In the courts there were
groups of people talking quietly. They stopped and
stared at the unicorn as it passed, but there was none
of the wild welcome that Nastrus was used to. When
the little party reached the stables, things were quiet;

no noblemen taking their horses out to hunt, no Royal
Messengers preparing to gallop to the ends of the king-
dom. A groom came out, exchanged a few civil words
and led Nastrus to his accustomed byre.

"I'd better get to Magicians' Court and see how
Greylock's doing," Jarrod said as they stood with the
saddlebags at their feet.

"Oh no you don't," Marianna countered. "First we
go to the Chamberlain and get ourselves assigned a de-
cent apartment. You may-be a Mage, but you are also
here as my husband. I imagine that we are among the
first ones here, of those of any account, I mean, and
that's fortunate. This place will be aswarm in a sennight
and I want to make sure that we are comfortable and

300 + JOHN LEE

in quarters that reflect our joint status." She looked up
at him and the eyes were sharp and undeniable.

"Yes, dear," he said meekly.

"Good. Now get one of these lads to carry our bags
and be sure that you tip him properly."

She lifted her skirts and set off across the cobbles.
Jarrod secured the services of a stable hand and hurried
to catch up with her. When they reached the palace
steps, he proffered his arm and she took it with a smile.

"If   we have any problems with the Chamberlain, leave
the   talking to me," Marianna said. "I know more about
the   accommodations than you do and I've dealt with the
man   before." Jarrod nodded his acceptance.

The Chamberlain proved amiable to the point of ob-
sequiousness and, to Jarrod's surprise, Marianna ac-
cepted the man's first suggestion. Pages were sent for
and they were escorted to a rather grand set of rooms
with a cabinet and a private privy. The Chamberlain
had, with the merest hint of reluctance, agreed to assign
a maid and a manservant to them, and Marianna had
sweetly agreed to interview suitable candidates that af-
ternoon. Jarrod had the distinct impression that the
Chamberlain had not intended that there be any choice,
but Marianna was not an easy woman to deny, espe-
cially when she was being charming. Apart from polite
hellos and equally polite good-byes, Jarrod had said
nothing.

"Rather fancy," he said after the last page had left
in search of the wine that Marianna had ordered. "An-
teroom, a separate sitting chamber, the lot."

"Yes, I know," Marianna said with a mysterious lit-
tle smile. "I've been entertained here before." The smile
broadened. "You see, my dear, the combination of the
Discipline and the old aristocracy is hard to top."

"And you didn't even have to haggle."

"I didn't need to," she replied lightly. "This occasion

THE UNICORN PEACE + 301

is going to be managed by the Discipline, even though
it is a state funeral. The Queen is a member of the High
Council of Magic. My husband is a Mage." She cocked
her head to one side. "Now what choice did the poor
man have? He is perfectly well aware that I know my
way around the palace and that most of the best suites
haven't been assigned as yet." She laughed mischie-
vously. "There was no need to tell him that you are the
Duke ofAbercorn."

"I think we should keep it that way, don't you, dear?"
Jarrod said quickly.

She gave him a look. "It guarantees us a seat at the
High Table, at least until the royals get here."

"Well I'm glad to be of use."

She caught the irony in his voice. "Marriage to me
hasn't exactly hurt your chances of being the next Arch-
mage," she rejoined.

"Don't be absurd," Jarrod said sharply. "Greylock's
going to be the next Archmage. He's the obvious choice
and he's Ragnor's acknowledged successor."

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," she said, sitting
herself in an armchair. "Ragnor is dead, but politics
never die. By marrying me you have access to the Arun-
delian vote. Since you are a Paladinian, and a very pow-
erful one now, Naxania should have no problem
endorsing you if Greylock's candidacy runs into oppo-
sition. Better you than the Chief Warlock, wouldn't you
say? And it would effectively remove you from Pala-
dine." Her eyebrows rose and her eyes opened wide.

"You are incorrigible," Jarrod said, folding himself
down onto a divan. "But you can spare yourself the
machinations. I would never allow my name to be put
forward against Greylock."

"Of course you wouldn't," she said complacently,
"but Greylock's an old man and there's always the next
election to think about."

302 + JOHN LEE

Jarrod shook his head and smiled at her. "And I think
it's time for me to go and pay my respects to the next
Archmage." He pushed himself back up to his feet.

"By all means," Marianna said. "I'm going to move
some of this furniture around, make the place a little
more comfortable since we're going to be here for a
while. Then I shall have a bath. D'you think you'll be
taking your midday meal here?"

"I really can't say. That'll depend on Greylock. And
I don't think that you should be moving furniture so
soon after the baby."

"Very well. Oh, by the way, do you have access to
funds here? I only had room to pack one gown and
there's no guarantee that it survived the trip. I found a
dressmaker in the town on my last trip who's both
skilled and reasonable." She glanced up at him.

"Oh, don't look like that, Jarrod," she said with a
touch of impatience. "Gwyndryth has a long-established
reputation to uphold and state occasions are never cheap.
Think how much it would have cost us to travel here by
coach. If we had, I could have brought a suitable ward-
robe; as it is, I'll have to be inventive for a sennight with
what I've got. I tell you plainly, my dear, that I have no
intention of embarrassing my father, who, need I remind
you, will be here before too long. Besides, I'm a little
fatter than I used to be."

"I'm sorry," Jarrod said. "I'm just not used to such
concerns. Yes, I can draw money. Just let my know how
much you need."

She smiled at him meltingly and his heart seemed to
turn over.

"I'm glad you understand, my sweet. It's not just my
vanity. If we don't make a good showing at Court, the
word will get around that the Holding is in trouble. We
are not without our greedy neighbors. My father's rep-
utation as a soldier has kept them respectful, but he

THE UNICORN PEACE t 303
hasn't been back to Gwyndryth for a long time. So long
as we appear prosperous, Aberwyn and Dynsdale as-
sume that, though I am a mere woman"—there was
asperity in the voice—"I can command sufficient loyalty
from our vassals, or, if push came to shove, could af-
ford to hire a sufficient number of mercenaries to re-
pulse them and possibly annex their land." She smiled
wryly. "I doubt if you have ever had the occasion to
price a mercenary, but I can assure you that a handful
of gowns cost a great deal less."

"I hadn't realized," he said.

"No reason why you should," she said lightly and
got to her feet. "Oh, and speaking of dress, do you
intend to stay in your blue robe, or does the Discipline
have something special for funerals?"

"The Mages of the various countries will wear their
regalia," he replied, "but I have none. I suppose I could
borrow one of Ragnor's robes. He always used to twit
me about being underdressed for grand occasions." He
broke off-and put a hand up to his mouth as his eyes
suddenly filled.

Marianna put a hand on his arm. "Wear what you
like," she said softly. "With your reputation, you can
wear anything that pleases you."

He put a hand over hers and pressed it gently. "I
really must go and see Greylock," he said.

"Very well, but tomorrow you must come with me to
pay our respects to Arabella. Promise?"

"I promise."

She went up on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

"Do you think you can ever come to love me?" he asked.

"I've already told you that I love you," she said
briskly. "If you're talking about sex, it takes time after a
baby, Jarrod. You must be patient with me."

He held her at arm's length and then enfolded her in
a silent hug.

304 + JOHN LEE

Greylock was ensconced in spacious rooms on the
ground floor of Magician's Court. The windows, as did
all the windows in the Court, looked out on the Arch-
mage's Tower, swathed now in a winding of black cloth.
The Mage was in a high-backed chair by the fire and,
when Jarrod was shown in, the square face broke into
a smile.

"I'm glad you're here," he said. "I wasn't sure when
you were going to arrive."

Jarrod went over and touched palms. "If it hadn't
been for Nastrus, we would have taken a great deal
longer. As it is, we got here soon enough to get lodging
that Marianna finds suitable to her station."

"Ah yes, you're a married man now, and a father?"

Jarrod grinned. "Yes indeed. A bonny little girl
named Daria for her grandfather."

"Congratulations."

"Thank you, sir. I'd be honored it you would stand
for her on my side at the naming ceremony."

"I should be delighted. In return I have a favor to
ask of your wife."

"Name it."

"I should appreciate it if she would walk beside the
unicorn in the procession. People associate the unicorns
with Ragnor and she was one of the discoverers."

"I'm sure that she would be more than willing, but"—
Jarrod hesitated—"I think she would prefer it if the
request came directly from you."

"No problem with that," Greylock said easily. "I'll
dictate something this afternoon." He settled back in
the chair and Jarrod knew that the small talk was over.

"Now, there's to be a meeting of the High Council
tomorrow morning. Ragnor named me his successor be-
fore he died. Arabella and Handrom were there when
he did it, but the meeting is traditional. It takes a ma-
jority to confirm me."

THE L-NICORN PEACE + 305

"It will be a formality," Jarrod said confidently.
"Confirmation by acclaim.''

Greyiock sniffed. "Not necessarily. The Chief War-
lock was on the scene before I was and he has been
quietly campaigning to overturn the decision—or so my
sources tell me. Sommas Handrom will vote for who-
ever he thinks will do the most for the Collegium. I can
expect support from Naxania, but Sumner is, after all,
an Arundelian. So you see, it's not so simple."

"What possible reason could there be for setting aside
Ragnor's express wishes?" Jarrod protested.

"Sumner claims that I am too old to perform strong
Magic, should that be required. Says that the Discipline
has been run by a figurehead for fifteen years and that
it is time for more than a caretaker. There is. of course,
some merit to that." Greylock spoke dryly.

"You can perform Magic if you want to, you know
you can. You proved it at the demonstration on the
Causeway."

"Not. it would seem, to the Chief Warlock's satisfac-
tion."

"He wasn't even there," Jarrod said. "Besides, it
doesn't matter what he thinks. He doesn't have the
votes. If the worst came to the worst, the Council would
split down the middle and Ragnor's wishes would pre-
vail."

"That might be true if Naxania were here," Greylock
said wearily. "Unfortunately our beloved Queen has
seen fit to delay her departure."

"Ah, no doubt she sees herself casting the deciding
vote and extracting a price for it." Jarrod looked at his
mentor speculatively. "May I have your permission to
get a chair?" he asked.

"Yes of course. I'm sorry." The smile was wan and
perfunctory. "This business is making me forget my
manners."

306 + JOHN LEE

Jarrod got a chair and installed himself opposite
Greylock "Well," he said, "it seems that we'll have to
adopt Ragnor's methods "

"Such as7 ' Greylock's voice was wary

"I spent a lot of time with him over the years and he
would have seen two, major ways to deal with this, in-
timidation or old-fashioned horse-trading "

"I don't approve of intimidation," Greylock said
primly

"Then we trade "

"But I haven't got anything to negotiate with," Grey-
lock complained

"You would if you were Archmage "

"Yes, but

Jarrod held up a hand "Hear me out Sumner has
two major weaknesses He's ambitious and he's a snob
He detests Talisman, we know that He thinks that the
country is beneath him and, what's worse, Talisman
knows it So, wouldn't it be a mercy for both parties if
he moved from there9" Jarrod rocked m the chair, eyes
narrowed, and then a thin smile crept up "Ragnor was
Mage of Arundel as well as Archmage," he said, "but
there's ample precedent for the two posts being held by
different people If you offered Sumner Arundel, not
only would it get him out of Talisman, but he would be
close at hand where you could keep an eye on him "

"What makes you think he would take st9 He's aim-
ing for Archmage," Greylock said dubiously

"That's where the snobbery comes in The man's al-
ways lusted after a secular title He wants to be part of
the aristocracy So, if we could persuade Arabella to
grant him a Holding, on the condition that he became
Mage of Arundel, I think he'd agree "

"You've grown up to be a devious young man, Jar-
rod Courtak," Greylock said, but there was an approv-

THE UNICORN PEACE + 307

ing note in his voice "D'you think that Arabella could
be persuaded9"

"Ragnor was a father and more to her I think she
would want to see his last wish fulfilled "

"You may be right So who becomes Chief Warlock,
you1"

"Oh I don't thmk so Dean Handrom would do very
well, don't you think^ Besides, with you here and me in
Fortress Talisman, who would keep Naxama under
control9"

"Quite right So, you become Mage of Paladme,
which is a perfectly natural progression, and the ap-
pointment of the new Dean of the Collegium would be
in m> hands "

"Precisely Confirmation by acclaim "

"Very neat, ' Greylock conceded

"It's probably a good thing that Naxama isn't here
I m sure that she would make a strong bid for the
Mageship I wouldn't put it past her to throw her lot in
with Sumner if he promised it to her "

Greylock's eyes met Jarrod's They were troubled "I
wouldn't like to think so after all these years, but you
might well be right " He shook his head sadly "It's at
times like this that I feel my age I have no stomach for
these kinds of plottings "

"Why don't you leave it all to me, sir9 It's best that
you stay above the fray anyway "

"Think you can do it9"

"I can certainly try My wife intends to ask for an
audience with Arabella We'll just try to move it up to
this afternoon If I can convince the Queen, the rest will
fall into place "

Greylock thought for a bit, rubbing his forehead with
his thumb as if he had a headache He looked up after
a while "Very well," he said

308 + JOHN LEE

When Jarrod returned to their rooms, he found Mar-
ianna pacing and agitated.

"What's the matter?" he asked, doffing his cloak.

Mananna came to a halt and turned to face him. "It's
Joscelyn," she said. "He's missing."

"What do you mean, missing?"

"I went to the Collegium while you were with Grey-
lock. I wanted to pay my respects to the Dean and find
out how Joscelyn was doing. Handrom said 1 was the
one who should be telling him. He never came back
after the wedding and Handrom. assumed he was at
home. Whatever are we going to do, Jarrod?" Her eyes
were wide and her hands were twisting together.

Jarrod went over and enfolded her in a hug. "I'll send
a bunglebird to Stronta and have the Outpost organize
a search. I think you should send one to Gwyndryth and
have them do the same, just in case he's in the area. I'd
go looking myself, but we can't leave until after the fu-
neral and besides, I don't know where to look. Now, you
must stay calm. He's a big boy and he knows how to
look after himself."

"He's only fifteen," she reminded him.

"We weren't much older when we went looking for
the unicorns, and we survived."

"What would make him do such a thing?" she de-
manded.

"At that age, who knows? Perhaps he was unhappy
at the idea of your getting married again. There's no
point playing guessing games. Let's go and send off the
bunglebirds and then we have to get ready for our au-
dience with the Queen. Greylock has requested that it
be moved up to this afternoon. Now get your cloak and
we'll go over to the cote."

The rest of the day passed quickly. The audience went
well, and Marianna, pleased by their reception, seemed
to put her worries behind her. They dined separately

THE UNICORN PEACE + 309

that night, Marianna in the Great Hall and Jarrod at
the Collegium. By the time he got back, she was already
asleep. He climbed in beside her, but he found it diffi-
cult to relax. The residual excitement of the high-level
dealings was compounded by Marianna's nearness and
worries about the boy. Sleep claimed him eventually
and, in the morning, he was doubly rewarded, first by
a sleepy but affectionate wife and later by the unani-
mous confirmation of Greylock as the next Archmage
of Strand.

chaptCR 26

^•4ueen Naxania regarded her image in the looking
glass with disfavor. The spots in the polished tin exac-
erbated her disgruntled mood. Arabella should have
seen to it that she was better housed. Her suite had the
same number of rooms as the one given to Varodias,
she had checked on that, but the Emperor's quarters
had been newly refurbished whereas the area assigned
to her was, to put it mildly, dingy. She turned her head
and peered sideways, catching a glimpse of her tiring
woman, who was fussing at her robe with a small
sponge. She concentrated on her own image. There was
an undeniable softening of the jawline and, despite the
candlelight and the unreliability of the spotted tin, def-
inite crease marks around her eye.

She snatched up her hairbrush and began to pull it
through her long black hair. No grey yet, thank the
gods. Her pale skin, fine eyes and her hair gave her
allure. She was still beautiful, but she had looked better.
It had been a bad year all around, she concluded. First
the rebellion, then turning forty and now Darius. Had
he deserted her because she was getting older? He, who
should have minded her aging least of all? Men, she
thought sourly, were all alike. All they were interested
in was young flesh, the new conquest. Darius, to his
credit, had proposed marriage, but he must have known
that it was impossible. Typically male, making it seem
as if the woman were at fault.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 311

"Please hold still, ma'am," the tiring woman said in
professionally meek voice. "I cannot get these wrinkles
out if you keep moving around."

"A perdition on your wrinkles!" Naxania screamed,
swinging around. "Out! Out of my sight. Out, out, out!"

The tiring woman's eyes grew satisfyingly round and
she began to back from the presence. Naxania flung the
hairbrush at her to hasten her progress- She watched
the door close and felt better. She lifted the hem of the
purple robe so that it would clear the herbs strewn
across the floor and went and retrieved the brush. She
squared her shoulders. Every important male on Strand
was at Celador. She had her throne and she still had
her looks. Perhaps she could cull a proper husband at
this funeral. She returned to the looking glass and re-
sumed her brushing.
Her late arrival at the Arundelian capital had back-
fired. Instead of her controlling the election, events had
passed her by. They had not even the grace to wait for
her. She slanted her head in the other direction. Grey-
lock, as Archmage, was no bad thing for Paladine's
prestige, but Courtak as Mage of Paladine as well as
Duke of Abercom was a potential disaster for the
Crown. If she was barred from the Mageship because
she sat on the throne, should not a Mage be barred
from being a major vassal? It was unfair. If she had
been a man, they would have waited and listened to her
arguments. She shook her head and her hair swung,
gleaming in the candlelight. She scowled at her reflec-
tion. Charming, she told the glowering eyes, remember
that you have to be charming. She tired out a smile and
even she knew that it lacked warmth.

I am a Queen, she told her image. I do not have to
make an acceptable face for any man. The House of
Strongsword is second to none on Strand. She patted a
stray strand of hair into place and then pinched her

312 + JOHN LEE

cheeks to bring color to them. Not bad, she thought.
You look closer to thirty than forty. She rang the small
hand bell for her attendants and prepared to descend
into the subdued festivities that preceded dinner.

She swept down the stairs toward the servants' hall
that, because of the number of guests, was now the royal
withdrawing room. Two ladies-in-waiting and three
pages hurried to keep up with her. The hall was a sea
of dark blues, blacks and purples, but, as the Cham-
berlain announced her, the crowd parted to allow her
through. The women curtsied and the men bowed as
she made her way to the relatively quiet enclave of roy-
alty at the head of the room. She kissed Arabella on
both cheeks, acknowledged her husband's bow, touched
palms with the Emperor Varodias and gave the Thane
of Talisman a bob of the head. Greylock greeted her
warmly and Sumner, whom she still thought of as Chief
Warlock of Talisman, was effusive. Her smile to Cour-
tak and his Arundelian wife was cool. She turned as the
Prince Consort approached.

Saxton, she thought, was a comely man and he had
shown a considerable knowledge of Paladine. She
brightened under his attention and found herself dis-
cussing agricultural policy with unwonted verve. She
was sorry when he passed her on to the Thane, whose
conversation was all of his family. She took the oppor-
tunity to regale herself with a drink from a passing tray.
Wearying of the Thane, she excused herself, went in
search of another glass and found herself face-to-face
with Varodias.

"Well met again, cousin," she said. "We do not see
your wife among us. We trust that she is not indis-
posed?"

The Emperor, in contrast to the rest of the guests,
was dressed in dark grey. The piping on the jacket and

THE UNICORN PEACE + 313

trousers was black as was the lace at throat and wrists.
He wore black gloves.

"Our thanks for your concern," he returned. "The
truth is that the Empress Zhane no longer travels." He
produced a small, apologetic smile. "She has the dropsy.
She had a great regard for the late Archmage and would
have come if she could have. Her Wisewomen would
not countenance it." His hands rose in a helpless ges-
ture.

"Ah yes," Naxania said, "we may be monarchs, but
it is the Wisewomen who are the true tyrants. Be sure
to convey my deep regard for her and my wishes for a
speedy recovery."

"You are most gracious. Lady." He paused and
looked quickly around the area before looking back at
her. "We are not the only one unaccompanied," he said.
"It is a shame that a woman as lovely as you has yet to
find the joys of matrimony." He bowed slightly and
moved on, leaving Naxania fuming.

How dare he, she thought. Marriage, as he very well
knew, was a dynastic matter and it was for her, as ruler,
to decide who and when she should marry. She re-
garded the company as she tamed her rising temper.
Greylock, wearing the chain of the Archmages, was deep
in conversation with Sumner. As she watched, they were
joined by Courtak and the Gwyndryth girl. She had put
on weight and was wearing a vulgar amount of jewelry.
Hard to believe that she was Darius' daughter.

Arabella and Prince Saxton were chatting with Var-
odias, and Naxania caught sight of a dapper, slim man
hovering at the Emperor's shoulder. Quern. What was
his first name? No matter, he was unimportant, indeed
he had no right to be at this end of the hall. Attendants
should know their place. Her eyes narrowed. Varodias
was, if anything, an even greater stickler for the con-
ventions than she was. If Quern was so closely in atten-

314 + JOHN LEE

dance, he must have considerable standing with the Em-
peror. When she had last seen him, he had been Phal-
astra of Estragoth's secretary. Evidently a man worth
watching. She advanced on the group.

"We were just speaking of the difference that dear
Ragnor's death will make," Arabella said. "People tend
to forget that he ruled Arundel when I was a girl. I
relied on his advice right up to the end."
"He was certainly a force for unity," Naxania re-
plied.

"Let us hope," Varodias interposed, "that his spirit
will continue to watch over us." He turned to Naxania.
"You are to be congratulated, by the way, for your
prompt suppression of the rebellion."

She smiled, thinking that it was less than polite of the
Emperor to bring the subject up. "It had no popular
support," she said, "and the traitors' heads now adorn
our battlements. We hear that things are not so settled
in your own realm," she added maliciously.

Varodias rubbed his gloved hands together briefly.
The smile he produced matched hers for lack of warmth.
"We are fortunate that our subjects love us. There have
been some local disturbances aimed at one or two land-
owners, but we have been spared the kinds of uprisings
that you have suffered. You were fortunate," he added,
"to have had the services of the Lord Observer." He
deliberately used the title by which Darius had been
known when in Umbria.

He turned his head as Malum materialized again and
whispered something. The corners of the Emperor's
thin lips twitched upward. That disagreeable little man,
Naxania thought, is telling him about Darius' defec-
tion.

"We understand," she said, resuming the conversa-
tion, "that a good deal of the animosity was aimed at
your Church. An unfortunate time, perhaps, to have

THE UNICORN PEACE t 315

lost your Mother Supreme." She was gratified at the
way that both pairs of eyes fastened on her.

"A great loss," Varodias agreed noncommittally.
"Arnulpha, however, was one of those women who are
better at telling other people how to run their lives than
in ordering their own. We can but hope that our newly
elected Mother Supreme shows more self-discipline."

"And how very considerate of her," Arabella cut in
quickly, "to come all this way for Ragnor's funeral,
especially when she must have so much to do in her
new position. We find it most heartening. Relations be-
tween the Church of the Mother and the Discipline have
not always been of the best. Should you see her before
we do, please convey our gratitude."

"Indeed, yes," Naxania murmured. "It is gratifying
that, even in death, the Archmage can provide unity."

Varodias smiled frostily and turned away as the little
group broke up. Naxania looked down the hall and
spotted Darius talking with his daughter. She was
tempted to go over and join them. What she missed
most, she realized suddenly, was the opportunity to talk
with him. He was a comfortable lover, but that aspect
was relatively easy to replace. The truth v/as that she
had no one else she trusted as well, who would not take
advantage, who was unfailingly, sometimes annoyingly,
fair and entirely discreet. She hesitated for a tiny mo-
ment before deciding against it. To approach him would
be a sign of weakness.

As Naxania turned away, Marianna left her father
and went in search of her husband. Her place was
swiftly taken by Malum of Quern. He had heard of the
General's return to his estates and was curious.

"Good evening, General," he said in Common, re-
membering that Darius preferred not to use the Formal
Mode.

"Plain Holdmaster now, friend Quern," Darius re-

316 + JOHN LEE

turned pleasantly. "I am once more a gentleman of lei-
sure."

"I must confess that I was surprised that Queen Nax-
ania allowed you to leave. A military leader of your
skill and experience is hard to replace."

"Paladine is peaceful now. The Queen has no oppo-
nents worthy of the name."

"Ah, but the State is never secure," Malum observed.
"Ambition sleeps, but it never dies."

"Maybe not in Umbria," Darius replied, "but that is
because you have retained your martial ways. Your
Elector-Scientists' idea of progress is to fabricate ever
more dangerous weapons. You pillage the ground for
coal to drive you engines. You subjugate your people
and force them to work in manufacturies. If you truly
want a peaceful and contented country, you will have
to change."

Malum smiled sardonically. "Become more like the
Magical Kingdoms, no doubt?"

Darius shrugged gently.

"Quaint, rural," Malum continued, "trapped in tra-
dition like insects in amber; dependent for power on
unreliable Magicians. That is not exactly an inspiring
vision for the future, Lord Holdmaster."

"Well, maybe I am a romantic, or perhaps just an
old fossil, but I like our ways. Oaths of fealty are re-
spected, the weather is beneficent, village Magicians
work for the common good, the air is sweet and the
people, by and large, contented. Not a bad prescrip-
tion to my way of thinking. I have spent my life as a
warrior, but I am happy to lay down my sword and
tend my fields. Let us pray that our visions of the fu-
ture never clash."

"Selah to that, my lord," Malum said politely.

Naxania was casting about for someone to talk to

THE UNICORN PEACE + 317

when the Oligarch Olivderval materialized at her elbow
in a rustle of silk.

"Give you good evening. Oligarch," she said.

"Your Majesty's obedient servant," Olivderval re-
plied. She made an attempt at a curtsy. "Your Majesty
must forgive an old woman of considerable bulk," she
said with a friendly grin at her own failings, "but I
cannot sink as far in the curtsy as once I could."

Naxania permitted herself to be disarmed. "It is for-
given," she said. "And what may we do for you?"

"Majesty," Olivderval said in mock umbrage. "How
could you assume that I had a request?" Her deep-
chested laugh both underlined and undermined her
point, and it set the Queen to laughing.

"You are a wicked woman," Naxania said, "and you
always have business on your mind. We are gathered
for a sad occasion, but we doubt not that you will profit
from the occasion."

"Ragnor always enjoyed a good laugh and while he
would have loved the pomp, I do not think he would
have wanted long faces," Olivderval replied bluntly.
"Your Majesty was looking sad and distracted and I
but sought to lighten your mood." She looked up at
the Queen and her eyes twinkled. "However," she
added, "the late Archmage was a practical man and I
am sure he would not have objected if I . . ." She saw
the look on Naxania's face and put a hand out in de-
nial. "Nay, nay. Majesty, I seek no boon. I would sim-
ply remind you of the treaty obligations that now
obtain between Isphardel and Paladine," Her tone was
soothing.

Naxania was instantly wary. "To what end, Oli-
garch?" she inquired.

"Paladine is signatory to an agreement to defend Is-
phardel while she is building roads through Songuard."

318 + JOHN LEE

She looked at the Queen and saw a sallow and dissat-
isfied woman. She almost pitied her—almost.
Naxania pursed her lips. "Technically true," she said
with a sketch of a smile.

"Oh, more than a technicality, royal lady," Olivder-
val replied, "oath-bound." She reached out patted the
Queen's arm and saw her freeze. She withdrew her hand
quickly.

"As we recall," Naxania said coldly, "we are a guar-
antor of the freedom of passage rather than a defender
oflsphardel."

"One leads inexorably to the other. Majesty, but I
doubt if we shall ever reach that pass."

Naxania drew back slightly. "Are you absolutely sure
of that?" she asked with as much lightness as she could
muster.

The Oligarch shrugged. "Absolutes are for gods and,
in Isphardel, there are many gods."

Naxania looked directly into Olivderval's eyes. It was
a tactic that had cowed a number of young men of rank.
"Tell me," she said, gaze locked, "does Isphardel intend
to seek our intervention?"

"Only if absolutely necessary," Olivderval said cheer-
fully. "If the Umbrians behave, it won't be necessary.
The fact remains, though, that if aught should go awry,
Paladine is pledged to respond."

"We shall abide by our treaty obligations, Oligarch.
Have you any reason to doubt that?"

"None whatsoever, Majesty," Olivderval demurred.
"It does my heart good to hear your Majesty affirm
your country's commitment." She performed her half-
curtsy again and backed slowly away, aware that she
had attracted attention. She faded in among the other
guests, well pleased with her work,

Naxania was puzzled at the woman's behavior, but
her speculation was cut short by the soft chiming of

THE UNICORN PEACE + 319

gongs announcing dinner. The guests began to file out
and make their way to the Great Hall. Royalty re-
mained aloof, drinking a final glass of chilled fruit
juice, designed to sharpen the appetite. Arabella left
first with the Emperor. Prince Saxton offered Naxania
his arm.

"We can either go in looking like gloom personified,"
he said as they wended their way through the corridors,
"or I can tell you ribald stories until we reach the Hall."
He had abandoned the Formal Mode.

She flashed him a grateful smile. "There is only one
problem with that," she replied, following his lead.
"When a jest gets past my guard, I tend to lose control.
I doubt that it would be too seemly if you had to carry
me to my chair."

"Then this certainly is no time for me to embark upon
my repertoire."

"Perhaps at a more auspicious occasion," she said.
He had treated her like a woman and a friend rather
than an honored guest and she appreciated it.

They arrived at the Great Hall in companionable si-
lence and he escorted her to her chair. Her brief burst
of goodwill evaporated when she saw that her dinner
companions were Varodias, seated to Arabella's left,
and the Thane of Talisman. It was to be expected, but
she was disappointed nevertheless. Think of it as dip-
lomatic opportunity, she told herself.

She smiled at the Thane, partly because she knew
that she would be talking to him during the first course
and partly because she was still annoyed at Varodias.
She took advantage of the lull that preceded the serving
to cajole herself into a more social mood. At home, she
reflected, she would not need to speak if she did not
feel like it. The Court would take its cue from her. Here,
alas, set between Emperor and Thane, the manners
drummed into her by her mother obtained. To the left

320 + JOHN LEE

for the first course and to the right for the second. A
bowl of soup was slipped in front of her and she turned,
dutifully, to the Thane.

In the event, the Thane proved easy. He had a cata-
logue of problems that he wanted to talk about. She
listened, attentively at first, to a lamentation on the de-
clining number of cloudsteeds, a discourse on a murrain
that had cut sharply into the woo) trade and the diffi-
culties of collecting taxes from the independent-minded
farmers of Talisman. All Naxania needed to do was nod
and make sympathetic noises between spoonfuls of
broth. When the bowls were withdrawn, she was almost
sorry to take her leave.

"We have the pleasure of your company once more,
cousin," Varodias said.

Naxania smiled and nodded, noting as she did so that
the Emperor looked even shorter sitting down.

"Since we have this unusual chance to speak face-to-
face, and more or less privately," she said, "are there
matters of state that we might usefully discuss?"

"Matters of state are best decided between those
whose divine right it is to rule," Varodias agreed.
"We have no quarrel with that," Naxania concurred,
though she felt that divine right had little to do with
fitness to rule.

"Let us say, therefore," Varodias continued, "that it
grieved us to see you in colloquy with the Isphardi Oli-
garch. They are an untrustworthy people with no sense
of national honor."

Naxania bridled internally at the criticism, but she
kept her face still. "We have trading relations with Is-
phardel and, of late, treaty obligations," she said rea-
sonably. "Common sense, and common good manners,
would dictate a certain level of social intercourse be-
tween us. Besides, the Oligarch Olivderval was at

THE UNICORN PEACE t 321

Stronta for the meetings of the Commission for the
Outland."

"The Isphardis are leeches," the Emperor declared
flatly, "battening on the labors of honest men and suck-
ing the profit from their enterprises."

Naxania shrugged and picked up her fork. "They
have the expertise and they control the sea-lanes. We
do our best to foster a merchant fleet, but Isphardel lies
between the Empire and ourselves. Our captains must,
perforce, put in at Isphardi ports and the levies imposed
make direct trade between us unprofitable."

"All the more reason, think you not, to eschew any
notion of aiding them with arms?" It was less a question
than a statement.

"Your ambassador was head of the Commission that
drew up the treaty/' Naxania reminded him tartly. "If
nations renege on their sworn obligations, chaos re-
sults."

"You speak as a woman," Varodias said dismis-
sively, "ever clinging to the rules laid down by others.
You cannot, in all seriousness, consider sending
troops into Songuard. The distances are too great, and
Paladine lacks the resources." He paused to cut his
meat.

"We would remind you, cousin,"—there was a bite
to the word—"that it was we who recaptured Bandor
and not you."

Varodias chewed and swallowed before replying. "A
matter of luck," he said, "and with a general who is no
longer yours to command."

"The success of our armed forces does not depend on
the Holdmaster ofGwyndryth," she retorted hotly. She
speared a wedge of vegetable and bit into it.
"Oh, come now," Varodias said smoothly, appearing
to enjoy himself, "you cannot pretend to have an army
to match ours. You have no rotifers, you have no battle

322 + JOHN LEE

wagons, you have no cannon. You rely on an anti-
quated cavalry and ill-equipped infantrymen. You cannot
think that your forces can equal Umbria's."

"Not only are they a match, sirrah, but you under-
estimate the power of Magic. Combine the two and
Umbria is a penitential dog." She spoke with controlled
anger.

Varodias smiled imperturbably. "Brave words, my
dear, but foolish. We know full well that Magic is im-
potent in the face of science and frankly, sweet cousin,
your forces may be sufficient to put down the occasional
rebel but, given the amount of money that you have
spent on training and arming fhem in the past ten years,
they can hardly be considered a threat to a professional
army."

Naxania considered a moment before replying. Tact
and diplomacy warred with her pride in the Discipline
and in her own forces. In the end, it was her distaste
for Varodias and his condescending assumption of su-
premacy that won out.

"Should the Isphardis," she said measuredly, "re-
quire our support, you may rest assured that we will
supply the troops. Should the need arise, we shall use
our influence with the Discipline. Were we you, my lord,
we should hesitate to provoke such a response." She
finished with a formal little smile and felt much better
for having spoken her piece.

"Have a care, lady," Varodias said frostily. "Hasty
threats are oft repented at leisure and paid for in blood."
He turned away from her as the pages swarmed in to
retrieve the plates.

Naxania realized that she had eaten practically noth-
ing and that, she thought, was the fault of the Emperor.
He had been right about one thing, though: she had
spent too little on the army. Very well then, she would
rectify that when she got home. Darius had been the

THE UNICORN PEACE + 323

one who had held her back, but Darius was gone. It
would mean raising taxes and the people would com-
plain, but then the people always complained. Varodias
had challenged her and she meant to be equal to the
challenge. She would show the puffed-up little man what
a Queen could do.

chaptCR 27
^he Celador that Marianna and Jarrod surveyed
from the privileged vantage point of their apartments
was reassuringly unchanged. The recent influx of guests
meant that there were lines outside the bathing places,
but the capital did not show the strains that had man-
ifested themselves when it had been threatened with
siege. There were no campfires in the courts, no lines of
washing strung, no broken windows. This time it was
the aristocracy that was the invading force. Servants
seemed continually ascurry, and a forest of splendid
tents grew up beyond the walls.

As the numbers swelled, it became apparent to those
in charge of administration that an event of unantici-
pated magnitude was taking place. The palace staff had
known from the beginning that everyone of note on
Strand had been invited, but they had not reckoned that
so many would attend. Lesser folk were accommodated
in the town, but that was no more than a stopgap mea-
sure. The truly great, as usual, swanned above the tur-
moil; the rest battled and settled as best they could.

Routines were abandoned from time to time to watch
the arrival of royalty. The Emperor of Umbria had ar-
rived on the Upper Causeway at the head of a caravan
of steam chariots. The display was impressive, but there
were persistent rumors that they had been pulled by
horses for the majority of the trip. Queen Naxania's
entry through the East Gate in a coach painted deep

THE UNICORN PEACE + 325

purple and drawn by six black horses with ebon plumes
nodding over their heads was obviously designed to
cause comment, and it did. The image was quickly sup-
planted by the Oligarchs of Isphardel, who came in a
group and a welter of somber samite. They had taken
up residence in great silken tents outside the south wall.
Their relative modesty caused even greater comment,
much to the chagrin of the Queen of Paladine.

Pages in the royal household, farmed out among the
visitors, gathered of an evening to discuss their experi-
ences. Those detailed to attend Varodias and his entou-
rage had the best stories, tales of mechanical clocks and
pet raptors. The Songeans had bizarre requests for food.
Those who served Naxania told of bursts of bad tem-
per. All were awed by a sense of occasion and the
awareness that, difficult or not, this opportunity would
never come their way again.

The Collegium, normally an oasis of order, came in
for its share of disruption. The Archmage's embalmed
body lay in state on the dais in the Students' Hall, and
people great and small filed through, day after day, to
pay their respects. Indeed, since there were no tourneys
or balls, it was one of the few distractions available.
For the aristocracy, there was much visiting back and
forth, and manuevering for seats at dinner in the Great
Hall became an art. The Chamberlain, who had to juggle
conflicting protocols and deal with touchy personalities,
was transformed into an irritable tyrant.

He was not the only one burdened with administra-
tive duties or the intricacies of national pride. The Col-
legium had the job of working out the funeral
arrangements. The placement of the chief notables in
the procession to the Burning Ground and where they
could be seated once they were there took a full sen-
night, and even then not everyone was satisfied. The
final order of march decreed that the bier, borne by six

326 t JOHN LEE

Magicians, would be followed by Marianna of Gwyn-
dryth and the unicorn. Immediately behind them would
come the "virtuous youths and maidens," one for each
year ofRagnor's life, dressed in long white tunics. Rag-
nor, in his final days, had insisted that he was ninety
years old, but most of those who knew him thought he
had rounded up the figure. Nevertheless, it made for an
even division of the young people and was allowed to
stand.

Behind them would be the Mages, Greylock, Simmer
and Courtak and the new Chief Warlock of Talisman.
Both Arabella and Naxania had opted to take their po-
sitions among the heads of state and would walk just
behind the leaders of the Discipline. The rest of the
details were left to the hapless Chamberlain. One thing
was clear to those who labored late at the Collegium:

this was an event of supreme importance for the Disci-
pline. The whole of Strand would be represented, in one
way or another. Even the Mother Supreme would at-
tend. Ragnor had served them in death as he had in
life. This was his final triumph.

Jarrod woke early on the morning of the funeral. He
slipped quietly out of bed so as not to wake Mananna
and went to wash and dress. He donned his usual blue
gown. He would change later into something that Rag-
nor would have approved of, indeed something that the
Archmage had furnished. Part of the old man's will had
left all of his robes to Jarrod. Sooner or later, Jarrod
thought with fond humor, the old rascal always got his
own way.

Almost every Magician on Strand was gathered on
the grounds of the Collegium that morning for the
Making of the Day. The Weatherwards had had to stay
at their posts, but those who were able to travel had
done so. It was the first time in living memory that so
many had come together for this essentially private rite,

THE UNICORN PEACE + 327

and it was an occasion that none of the participants
would forget. The feeling of communal energy, of a
combined merging, was thrilling.
Part of that charge clung to Jarrod as he made his
way back toward the palace, and he decided to visit
Nastrus before returning. No one challenged him as he
walked through the stables to the unicorn's stall.

'My but you 're in a good mood, considering what's go-
ing to happen today,' the unicorn commented.

"True. Part of it is because I've had time to get used
to the fact that Ragnor's dead, but most of it is due to
the Making of the Day It was quite extraordinary.'

'I would love to go for a gallop with you while you're
in this mood.'

'So would I,' Jarrod replied, 'but it wouldn 't be con-
sidered seemly and I have to get back to Mananna.'

'Marianna, Marianna, it's always Marianna,' Nastrus
complained. 'You never spend any time with me any-
more. '

'Now, you know that isn't true,' Jarrod said. 7 spend
as much time with you as I can. It's just that I'm a mar-
ried man now and I have responsibilities.'

'Sires do as they please.'

Jarrod ignored the remark. 'They'll be along to groom
you in a while. You and Marianna will be the first ones,
right behind the coffin. It's a considerable honor '

7 liked him,' Nastrus said thoughtfully. 'He used to
bring us treats and take us out for exercise. There was a
great deal of affection in him.'

Jarrod smiled both mentally and physically. 'He loved
you all. He loved to watch you. and going riding with you
was a huge thrill for him. He always felt that you and
your family were the key to our victory.'

'An unusually intelligent human,' the unicorn con-
curred. 'Will you be keeping watch over the candles
again?'

328 + JOHN LEE

'No Candles of Remembrance this time,' Jarrod re-
plied. 'Ragnor didn't even want a tree. He just wanted
his ashes buried al the foot of the Archmage's Tower. He
said that there were enough statues to keep his memory
alive longer than anyone wanted, but they are going to
plant a tree in the Collegium grounds anyway.'

'I'm glad thai I can share in this,' Nastrus said. 'How-
ever, once this is over. I shall return to the Island at the
Center.'

'Of course. I'm grateful that you have stayed this long.'
Jarrod paused. 7 hope you will continue to visit us. I
shall miss you terribly.'

'You are a married man now, with responsibilities,'
Nastrus reminded him, none too kindly. 7 make no
promises. I have already devoted a great deal of time to
this world.'

'And we are grateful,' Jarrod said. 'Know that you and
your offspring will always be honored.' His sending was
courtly and formal.

Nastrus responded in kind. 'As you are part of the
Memory forever. Jarrod-almost-unicorn.'

They were both aware of the other's subtext and Jar-
rod moved forward and put his arms around Nastrus'
neck and hugged him.

7 can rely on you to behave, can't I?' he said, with an
attempt to return to his old style.

'As much as you ever could,' Nastrus returned good-
naturedly.

'If not for me, for Ragnor,' Jarrod said.

He patted the glossy flank and turned to leave. The
unicorn's benign amusement stayed in his mind as he
crossed the stableyard.

When he got back to the apartments, he found that
Marianna was already in the long black gown that she
had had made. It was long-sleeved, had a high neck and

THE UNICORN PEACE f 329

was absolutely plain. The maid was moving around her
putting up her hair and pinning in it place,

"There's chai and some sweet rolls in the bedcham-
ber," she said. "You had better eat now. There's no
knowing when we'll see food again."

"That dress is very becoming," Jarrod said, "but it's
making you dramatic. There are banquets after the fu-
neral both here and at the Collegium. We shall be wel-
come at either."

"Well, eat your breakfast anyway. You'll need your
strength."

"Yes dear," Jarrod said, and went through to the
bedchamber.

The procession from Magician's Court to the Burn-
ing Ground outside the walls was an impressive sight.
The black-draped coffin, the gleaming unicorn, horn,
hooves, mane and tail shining in the sunlight, accom-
panied by the woman in black, the young men and
women in a double file of white, the Mages in their
rune-threaded gowns and then the rulers and the nobil-
ity in their splendid mourning clothes, all were part of
the pageantry of death.

Arabella of Arundel was escorted by Varodias of
Umbria; Naxania of Paladine was accompanied by
Brem Argolan, the current Thane of Talisman. They
were followed by the Oligarchs of Isphardel, Olivderval
among them, her bulk supported on an ebony cane.
Next came Hodman Forodan of the Territi with the
newly elected Mother Supreme at his side. There was a
gap and then came Saxton Horbinger, Arundel's Prince
Consort. He was followed by the cream of the aristoc-
racy, divided into national groups. Darius of Gwyn-
dryth and Otorin of Lissen walked with their fellow
Holdmasters; the Umbrian delegation included Malum
of Quem, the Margrave of Oxenburg and all the Elec-

330 + JOHN LEE

tors save Phalastra of Estragoth, who was absent for
reasons of health. The chief families of Paladine were
well represented, though their ranks had been thinned
by the rebellion. After that came well-connected men
and women too numerous for anyone save the Cham-
berlain to list.

All along the route through Celador, on either side
of the gates, up on the battlements, lining the roadway
leading to the Burning Ground, the common people
stood in silence as the great ones of the world passed
by. Some had traveled as much as fifty leagues to bid
farewell to the Archmage and to witness the spectacle.
There were a surprising number of children, surprising
until one realized that a long chapter in the history of
Strand was closing. Folk wanted their children to have
the link to them that Ragnor had provided between
themselves and their own parents. They wanted the chil-
dren to remember the Archmage, if only in death.

Jarrod, pacing slowly along among his colleagues,
could feel the sadness radiating from Nastrus and knew
that the unicorn was reflecting the mood of the crowd.
Ragnor, he thought, would have considered it no more
than his due. The Discipline was giving the people an
extraordinarily impressive show. The old man would
also have approved of Jarrod's choice of robe. It was
black, which suited the occasion, with a band of stars
in silver thread and diamonds which ran from the right
shoulder, across the body, to the hem. The ring of the
Keepers, functional now that the Place of Power was
back, was on his right hand and, for the first t^me, the
diamond tiara of the Mages ofPaladine was on his head.
It was hard to believe that he would never hear the
rheumy chuckle of approbation again.

As the bier passed under the East Gate, there was a
commotion. The crowd on the right-hand side parted
to allow a young man in a travel-stained cloak to lead
THE UNICORN PEACE + 331

a unicorn through. He fell into step beside Marianna
and Nastrus.

"Josceyin?" Marianna's voice was a mixture of relief
and exasperation. "What is the world are you doing and
where have you been? Your clothes are a disgrace."

"I've just come through Interim with Astarus,
Mother, and I haven't had time to change my clothes,"
the youngster replied levelly. "I only heard about Rag-
nor's death yesterday. We wanted to pay our respects."

"But where have you been all this time? You fright-
ened us half to death," Marianna said, trying to keep
her face composed for the crowd.

"I went to the Anvil of the Gods to look for a uni-
corn," Joscelyn said, "and I found Astarus." He tried
to sound noncommittal, but there was no mistaking the
pride m his voice.

"I'll want to talk to you when this is over, young
man," Marianna said dangerously. ''In the meantime,
straighten your cloak and keep your head up and your
shoulders back."

Jarrod could not see what was happening ahead, but
he was alerted by the rapid burst of thoughts from Nas-
trus. It was too fast for him to follow and obviously
not aimed at him, but he knew that the unicorn was
asking questions.

'What's happening?' he thought out. 'Is anything
wrong?'

Nastrus finished his conversation before he answered.
'One of my offspring has arrived with Marianna's son.
They have joined the parade.'

'Is the boy all right?'

'He appears to have survived Interim intact,' the uni-
corn returned dryly.

'Interim?' Jarrod was startled. 'How did he learn to do
that?'

'It appears that the ability to talk to unicorns runs in

332 + JOHN LEE

certain human families.' Nastrus was not sounding
pleased.

The idea that Joscelyn had found a unicorn that he
could talk to and had mastered Interim troubled Jar-
rod. The boy was an exceptionally strong, raw Talent
with a wild streak that was natural for his age, but could
prove dangerous if he did not outgrow it. Now he had
established contact with a unicorn. That could spell
trouble unless this new unicorn exercised a restraining
influence. He would have to ask Nastrus about that, but
this was not the time. Perhaps he should try to talk to
the newcomer when the funeral was over. He would
certainly have to have a few words with the new Dean
of the Collegium.

The cortege turned off the road and in to the broad
meadow where the pyre waited. The draped coffin was
carried up the ramp and placed upon the squat pyramid
of logs. Marianna and Nastrus, with Joscelyn and the
new unicorn in tow, positioned themselves on the south
side as the white-clad youths peeled away. Jarrod and
the Chief Warlock took the east and Sumner the west,
leaving Greylock alone at the north end. Once he was
in position, Jarrod got his first glimpse of the unicorn.
It was certainly a noble-looking creature, despite its
rough coat and tangled mane. It was impossible to tell
its age, but it looked fully mature and stood as tall at
the shoulder as Nastrus. The two were conversing and
Jarrod could tell that the older unicorn was angry.

Arabella and Varodias passed near Jarrod and
snagged his attention. He saw that the Queen was weep-
ing. There was no show in her grief; she uttered no
sound and her bearing was regal. The face was an im-
mobile mask, but tears trickled slowly down. The sight
banished all other thoughts. Jar-rod's eyes stung and
there was a sudden lump in his throat. It was as much
in sympathy for the Queen as it was for the memory of

THE UNICORN PEACE + 333

Ragnor. Jarrod had lost a friend, but Arabella had lost
her second father, a man that she had loved all of her
life.

The last of the procession was in now and the
meadow was filled. Pale faces stood out against the dark
clothing. The feeling of sadness was palpable to Jarrod
and so was a certain sense of anticipation. Out of the
corner of his eye he saw Greylock step back, turn, and
face the royal enclosure.

"It is my sad and solemn duty to say farewell 10 my
old friend and colleague, Ragnor." The deep voice
rolled out, carrying easily. The crowd was silent and
still and Jarrod knew that Greylock was using the Voice
to compel attention.

"He was a remarkable man. He served as Mage of
Arundel, Regent of Arundei, and Archmage of Strand.
He was adept at administiation, whether of the Disci-
pline or of a Kingdom. He was astute in diplomacy,
wise in counsel and a warm and loving friend. To a!I
this must be added that he was a powerful and inventive
Magician who performed feats never before ilUempted.
He succeeded at everything to which he turned ha, hand.

"That, perhaps, was his most remarkable quality, his
willingness to reach for new solutions. After what, for
any other man, would have been a long and distin-
guished career, he did not hesitate to launch the quest
for the unicorns and, at an age when a Magician hesi-
tates to test his powers because of the toll that spell-
casting takes, he summoned the Cloak of Invisibility to
protect his beloved Celador. Not content with that, he
then, with the assistance of the Mage Courtak, per-
formed the Great Spell that rid our world of the Out-
landers."

True, all true, Jarrod thought, but he's going to be
fixed in people's memories as infallible and unvaryingly
heroic. The real Ragnor was also vain, irascible, impul-

334 + JOHN LEE

sive, manipulative and filled with sly humor. Despite
that, Jarrod realized, the man would exist henceforth as
an object of veneration and awe. The faults and quali-
ties that made him lovable and exasperating by turn,
that made a Queen weep for him, would be burned away
with his body. All that would remain would be the im-
mutable approximation of the man—like the statues of
him on a hundred village greens. Someday, he resolved,
I shall write his history and restore his humanity.

". . . will go down in history as the greatest Arch-
mage since Errathuel."

Jarrod realized that the eulogy was coming to an end
and that he had missed the bulk of it. He sneaked a
look at the crowd and saw thai they were rapt. The
years of practice seemed to have given him an immunity
from the effects of the Voice, but, for the rest of the
people within earshot, it was a compulsion they could
not break and would not forget. Small wonder that so
few were given knowledge of it.

"And so we bid farewell to the man who was the
heart, the conscience and the salvation of Strand,"
Greylock concluded.

The new Archmage turned and faced the pyre once
more, the tiara of his office blazing in the sun. Jarrod
braced himself for what was to come and was aware,
simultaneously, that Nastrus was also prepared. With
one accord the assembled Mages concentrated and, as
they did so, flames began to lick around the bottom of
the logs. The unicorn added his strength and the pyre
ignited with a roar, causing the others to retreat from
the sudden rush of heat. Small wisps of smoke curled
towards the sky and the air above the coffin danced.

In a matter of minutes, the fire fell in with a spitting,
crackling flash. Sparks flew in every direction and the
flames leaped in one final, incandescent burst before the
conflagration subsided into a mound of fiercely glowing

THE UNICORN PEACE + 335

reds and oranges. Of the coffin, there was no trace. The
skin on Jarrod's hands and face felt seared and dry, but
he was not about to retreat any further. The colors be-
came muted as he watched. Flakes of ash spiraled up-
ward in the wavering air. The fire sighed and settled in
upon itself. The edges began to turn grey.

Good-bye, Archmage, Jarrod thought, and heard it
echoed by Nastrus. The unicorn was also thinking of
the moment when they had translated his brother, Bel-
dun, back to the Island at the Center. It was fitting
somehow. Both were rare creatures and both would live
on in his memory. There was no sadness now m Nas-
trus' mind, but, in spite of that, Jarrod felt a pang. An
age had ended as surely as it had on the night that the
Outlanders were destroyed. Nothing will ever be quite
the same again, he thought.

As the funeral pyre died, the assembly stirred, re-
leased from its thrall. At that moment, Joscelyn stepped
forward and led his unicorn round the glowing rem-
nants to face the royal enclosure. No one else moved.
Jarrod's mind flashed out to Nastrus in query, but he
received no answer.

"Thus says Astarus the unicorn to his Imperial Maj-
esty, Varodias of Umbria," Joscelyn pronounced in a
clear, carrying baritone.

His voice has finally broken, Jarrod thought incon-
sequentially, and then concentrated on what the boy
was saying.

"I have traveled in your land and seen what you do
to the earth and the waters and the skies. You permit
desecration and for this you will be held to account. It
is no business of mine what you do to the humans under
your sway, but the unicorns will not remain idle if you
continue to despoil the land.

"My brethren and I have decided to dwell at the far
side of what you humans call the Alien Plain. There is

336 t JOHN LEE

space and grazing enough for ail and there is no reason
why we cannot coexist in peace, but I have observed
your doings, Emperor of Umbria, and I have seen into
your heart. Keep within your proper bounds and all
will be well between us. If you do not, you will rue the
day." Joscelyn paused, as if listening, and then his head
came up. "Thus speaks Astarus the unicorn," he de-
clared.

There was a frozen, shocked silence and then the boy
turned and sprang lightly onto the unicorn's back. He
bent forward and twined his hands into the mane. Both
of them disappeared. One moment there, the next gone.

The crowd stirred, as if released anew, and a buzz of
conversation rose- Varodias, who had, at first, gone
deathly pale and then had progressively reddened with
anger, turned to Arabella.

"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, voice
squeaking with passion. "And who was that young up-
start? Is this some conspiracy by the Magical Kingdoms
to publicly demean the Empire?" .

"We can assure you, cousin," Arabella said shakily,
"that we have no knowledge of this. We are as amazed
and affronted as you. You may rest assured that we
shall inquire into these circumstances forthwith and will
deal severely with the miscreant. We shall not tolerate
this insult to an honored guest." She drew a deep
breath. "In the meantime, we suggest that we return to
the palace. The boy is gone. There is nothing that we
can do here."

She beckoned to a page. "Do you go immediately to
the Lady Marianna and the Mage Courtak and com-
mand them to attend us in the private withdrawing
room " She turned to Varodias and said, "If anyone
knows about unicorns it will be those two."

She held out her hand to the Emperor and, head high,

THE UNICORN PEACE t 337

moved out of the royal enclosure and back onto the
road to Celador.

'Talk to me,' Jarrod pleaded as the procession re-
formed.

'lam deeply ashamed,' Nastrus replied slowly as Mar-
ianna and he walked away from the Burning Ground.
7 do not remember who his dam was, but there must be
bad bloodlines [here. Perhaps I am getting old. I do not
understand this new generation.'

'Yes. yes, yes,' Jarrod thought back with barely sup-
pressed annoyance, 'but what was all that about my
brethren and I living on the Alien Plain?'

There was a sigh in Nastrus' mind. 'You remember
the coifs that I brought to help you build your castle?
Well, they went back and talked to their kin about the
uncounted leagues of virgin grass here on Strand. You
have seen our portion of the Island at the Center. It is
cramped and every year our numbers grow. This Astarus.
it seems, has a position of leadership among the younger
unicorns and he convinced the others that they should
move to Strand. It appears that this new breeding is more
aggressive that we were. They talk of defending territory.'
His tone turned sarcastic. 'Some of them may have
looked into the Memory, but they have not seen the de-
struction of the cloudsteeds at first hand. This world has
dangers that they cannot comprehend.'

'How many are coming? Where will they go? Where
did Astarus and Joscelyn go?' The questions crowded
forth.

T don't know,' Nastrus admitted. 'Astarus is arrogant.
fie would not submit to my authority. He told me very
little.' The thought turned bitter. 'He considers me a
spent force, an aging sire no longer capable of keeping
other males away from my dams. His opinion of humans
is none too high either. I fear that you will have trouble
with him. As to where they have gone. I suppose to the

338 + JOHN LEE

castle. Where else on the Plain would he have a homing
point?'

They completed the journey back to Celador in trou-
bled silence, each caught up in his thoughts, each
gloomy for reasons that had nothing to do with Rag-
nor's funeral.

Jarrod and Marianna regained their rooms quickly
and set about changing their clothes. They exchanged
what information they had, knowing that as the discov-
erer of the unicorns and as Joscelyn's parents, they were
doubly responsible.

"Why didn't you tell me about this castle before?"
Marianna asked.

"Because it was none of your business," Jarrod said
shortly. "There are only a handful of people who know.
It was a Discipline project, but even Greylock doesn't
know about it. Ragnor knew, of course, but he's dead."

"Then we certainly shan't tell Arabella," Marianna
said, unabashed. "Honest ignorance is what we have to
project. My son appeared suddenly and joined the cor-
tege saying that they wanted to pay homage to Ragnor.
Josceyin is obviously under the influence of this strange
unicorn. We didn't know that they were coming and we
don't know where they went." She looked at him.
"Well, it's the truth," she said.

Jarrod made no reply and she went took him by the
arms and shook him slightly. "Listen to me. Gwyndryth
could lose all influence at Court because of this. If Var-
odias insists, we are going to be made scapegoats even
though we have done nothing wrong. They can't do
much to you, you're a Mage, but they can cripple
Gwyndryth. Our only hope is to be bewildered, but
helpful. If we are seen as part of a possible solution, we
may be spared. Just follow my lead."

Jarrod disengaged her hands gently and looked down
THE UNICORN PEACE + 339

at her. "No, my dear," he said firmly. "This is more
important than Gwyndryth. The unicorn was essentially
correct in many of the things that he said about Varo-
dias, but that is beside the point. What we have to do
is to make sure that this does not get blown up into an
international incident. Unicorns come within the Dis-
cipline's purview and this is our problem. Joscelyn may
be your, er, our son, but he is an Apprentice Magician.
You will follow my lead in this. Is that quite clear?"

Marianna looked up into his eyes and whatever she
saw there quenched the spark of rebellion in her own.
"Very well," she said with a little shake of the head.
"But if you put Gwyndryth in jeopardy, you shall an-
swer to me," she added before turning away to com-
plete her preparations for the audience.

They were ushered into the withdrawing room by a
gentleman-of-the-bedchamber who smirked at them as
they passed. Bad news travels quickly, Jarrod thought.
Arabella was ensconced in an ornate chair, looking
grim. Another, unoccupied, stood close by.

"I am so sorry, Your Majesty," Marianna said, un-
bidden, as she rose from a deep curtsy, "that this should
have occurred on this day of all days."

Arabella waved her into silence.

"We need hardly tell you," she said, "that the Em-
peror is exceeding angry. He has been attacked and in-
sulted in front of a gathering of every personage of note
on Strand. We have asked you here because you know
more about unicorns than anyone else and, some way
or another, we must get to the bottom of this." She
looked at Jarrod. "You can converse with the unicorn
Nastrus, can you not?"

"Yes, ma'am, and I have done so. He has told me
that a number of younger unicorns have decided to
come to Strand. It seems that they are running out of
space and grazing in their current home,"

340 + JOHN LEE

"And what of the challenge to the Emperor?" Ara-
bella asked.

"Nastrus was at a loss to explain. This other unicorn
refused to acknowledge his authority and would tell him
nothing."

"And what of the young man? Did your unicorn
know him?"

Marianna looked at Jarrod and he nodded. She faced
the Queen again. "He is my son. Majesty," she said
quietly. "Unbeknownst to us he ran away after our
wedding and went in search of a unicorn. Today was
the first time that I save seen him since Stronta."

"I see," Arabella said. She looked back to Jarrod.
"Did you send him on a quest?" she asked.

"No, ma'am. It may be that our marriage triggered
thoughts of emulation in his mind. He is at an impres-
sionable age."

"What can you tell us," Arabella began, but was in-
terrupted by the opening of the doors.

"His Imperial Majesty, the Emperor Varodias," the
usher announced.

Arabella rose and Jarrod and Marianna turned. The
one bowed, the other genuflected to the floor. They held
their positions as the Emperor stalked across the room,
the heels of his boots clacking on the floorboards. He
nodded to Arabella and took his seat. He regarded Jar-
rod and Marianna with undisguised hostility as they
rose to face him.

"So," he   said, his high, light voice cold, "the author-
ities on   unicorns. Tell us, is it possible that the boy was
speaking   for the animal, or was he put up to it by those
who wish   the Empire ill?"

"It is possible, Your Imperial Majesty, for humans
to understand the thoughts of unicorns. It is, as far as
we know, extremely rare and the ability to converse with
one unicorn does not mean that we can talk to others.

THE UNICORN PEACE + 341

The Lady Marianna can understand a mother unicorn,
but I cannot reach her. I, on the other hand, can speak.
as it were, with the offspring, but the Lady Marianna
cannot. Neither of us has ever encountered this partic-
ular unicorn before."

The Emperor sniffed disdainfully. "In your expert"—
there was a sneer in the word "expert"—"opinion, was
this urchin giving a true report of this creature's
thoughts?"

"1 think that it is almost certain. If the boy could not
communicate with the unicorn, he would not have been
able to go into Interim with it and thus disappear from
the Burning Ground."

"And what of the threat to our person?"

"Unicorns are as different from one another as are
humans," Jarrod said seriously, "but the unicorns that
we have encountered thus far have been Strandkind's
friends. One even gave up his life to enable us to destroy
the Outlanders. They could undoubtedly be dangerous
if roused—those horns are no mere decorations—but
only in the way that a cornered boar is dangerous. They
have no magical powers as such, though they can har-
ness certain energies to transfer themselves from place
to place."

"Then why, pray, would this creature confront us?"

"I cannot answer that, Your Imperial Majesty. I can
only surmise that it was overcome by the grandeur of
the occasion—unicorns are sensitive to atmosphere—
and felt some need for vainglorious expression. I do not
think that it need be taken seriously."

"Do you not, i' faith?" Varodias' voice was mocking
and his hands made an airy little gesture. "We shall
have to wait and see about that. In the meantime, where
did this precious pair disappear to?"

"I cannot say for sure, sire," Jarrod replied. "I can

342 + JOHN LEE

only assume that they are somewhere out on the Alien
Plain."

The Emperor's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips,
weighing alternatives known only to him. "We suggest
that you find them," he said finally. "Unicorns are crea-
tures of the Discipline and if anything untoward comes
of this, we shall hold the Discipline responsible."

He rose from his chair. "Cousin, we are sure that you
will make the apprehension of this miscreant your chief -
est priority. When he is apprehended, we shall expect
that a public example be made of him." He bowed curtly
to Arabella and walked out.

Marianna was white-faced as she rose from her curtsy
and she turned a beseeching face to the Queen.

"And can you find them?" Arabella asked Jarrod
once the doors had closed again.

Jarrod sighed. "I doubt it, Majesty. Nastrus is re-
turning to the Island at the Center. I cannot prevent
him. We could send out cloudsteeds, but I expect that
the unicorns are beyond their range. Our best hope is
that Joscelyn will return. There is ample fodder for un-
icorns out there, but precious little for humans."

Marianna's hand flew to her mouth and Arabella
looked at her with compassion. Then she fixed Jarrod
with a skeptical eye. "We do not know what this is all
about, though we doubt that there was a plot to em-
barrass the Emperor. Nevertheless, we want answers.
We cannot countenance anything that could damage the
amity that currently exists between Arundel and Um-
bria." She looked from one to the other. "Perhaps, un-
der the circumstances, it would be better if you dined
at the Collegium." She shook her head. "This is most
unfortunate." She paused and her face became stern.
"We expect to be kept informed of any progress you
make."

THE UNICORN PEACE + 343

"As Your Majesty commands," Jarrod said, and
bowed.

They withdrew, knowing that they had been re-
prieved. but not exonerated. Marianna was silent and
Jarrod, his mind filled with questions, was grateful for
that. When he had been listening to Greylock earlier in
the day. he had felt a sense of renewal, had felt that the
Discipline had regained the respect and affection of the
people and would grow and prosper. Now everything
was clouded again. What was worse was that his new-
found family and his unicorns appeared to be central
to the problem. He felt old before his time.

Jarrod was right to think that the world had changed,
though his presumption that the causes devolved onto
his own shoulders was hubnstic. There would indeed be
change, as there must always be change. The peace that
the unicorns had helped to achieve had begun to un-
ravel years before. This would be the last peaceful gath-
ering of these great folk, though no one at Celador that
day realized it. Soon, unconscionably soon, there would.
once again, be talk of war. The Age of Ragnor, as Jar-
rod was to call it in his monumental history of Strand,
was over.

As Jarrod and Marianna made their way toward the
Collegium, Strand's two moons shone down on them.
This was their season; the time when both, obeying the
laws set down for them by the gods in a time so far
gone by that the mind of man could not comprehend
it, appeared together in the night sky. The men and
women whose lives they lighted took the phenomenon
for granted. It had always been thus and it would al-
ways be. It never occurred to them that their fates and
frailties, though less predictable, would fulfill cycles of
their own. The philosophers among them would have
found both hope and despair in that. Had Strandkind
been cursed with foresight on that tranquil, cloudless

344 + JOHN LEE

evening, there would have been many who would have
despaired. Some would have prayed to the Mother,
some to the spirits of the land and some that there might
still be unicorns.

It was a matter of indifference to the circling moons.
Wars would come and go, nations wax and wane, but
they would ride the heavens with a certainty that the
merely mortal could not match. Somewhere in the fath-
omless darkness beyond them, in his quarters on the
Island at the Center, the Guardian doffed his viewing
helmet and vowed that he would never watch again.
The moons of Strand were unaware of that. They were
concerned with themselves, the sun and the planet be-
neath them. Nothing else was important.