A beautiful sword--indeed, it was a treasure. More than one hundred years old, its gray steel had been kept honed, its jeweled hilt polished. It was beautiful--some said it was the finest work of a long-dead master. As a work of art, it held its own.

Yet, it was not merely a display piece. One could only guess at how many lives she had taken--what blood had once soaked her now pristine blade. A former owner some time back had dubbed her "Sorrow", and the name was certainly appropriate. The amount of mourning and sadness brought about by its blade was unimaginable. It was by luck Lord Geyshard had come across the sword, and he had paid dearly for it. Of course, no price was too high--not for a sword with its lineage. It was just as bespelled as it was bedeckt--and if one could see magic, they would see a fiery orange glow.

The last sword of Duke Roger had passed through many hands--those who would possess such an item usually did not live long. Lord Geyshard was an exception, keeping the sword for almost ten years, but seldom using it. It hung in his room, protected by powerful spells, waiting until the right time to use it would come...

The death of Kyland had not been enough to bring Harold to his senses...the old man was proving more stubborn than Geyshard had originally planned. The attacks on Harold’s other two children had failed, but he had not expected all of them to succeed. In fact, it was probably better that they didn’t.

But the oldest boy wasn’t important. The daughter, though...now there was an idea. She was eighteen but still unmarried, and Geyshard regretted that both his sons were married. If he could arrange Kristia’s marriage with one of them, then kill off Harold...well, there was no point dwelling on might-have-beens. She could still be of some use, though. A kidnapping, perhaps?

Kristia was Harold’s favorite child...would he pay the ransom of his land for her life? The chances were good. But how could he go about capturing her?

And just in case that didn’t work, he would make...other arrangements. There was a mercenary company by the name of Spidrenvenom, the leader of which owed him a favor...

The sound of raindrops on the roof awakened Kris, and she listened for a moment, sorting out the difference between reality and dream. When she saw Zedd was gone, she wasn’t worried at first--she just got out of bed and looked around the house for him. When she didn’t find him, then she was worried.

How did they find him without me knowing? she thought. Magic? Zedd could stop almost any magic, I think-- And then she came across the note on the nightstand.

And her worry turned to anger.

"You idiot!" she shouted--if Zedd couldn’t hear her, half of Corus probably could! "You shouldn’t have gone out alone! You’re as good as dead!" That brought tears, and she sunk down onto the bed, head in her hands. "Why didn’t you listen to me?" she sobbed. "We could have gone together--together, we had a chance. I was going to tell you that--why couldn’t you understand? You--you idiot!" She pounded the nightstand angrily, and then tore up his note.

Kris walked home without really seeing anything, and thankfully Nikain was already gone when she arrived. She changed and left, heading numbly for the palace. She would go through her routine the way she always did, wouldn’t let this stop her--why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? Why did he have to go and do something so stupid? Perhaps she never would understand males.

She began stretching. He knows better than that, I know he does. He knows I’m stronger than he is--does he really think his magic will save him? What if Geyshard does know about his magic? He’s not the one to take chances--and unfortunately, Zedd is gambling with his life. Dear gods, I could cheerfully strangle him if I weren’t so damn worried!

She tossed around the idea of going after him, but since he obviously didn’t need her help, she wouldn’t help him. Perhaps it was a selfish reason, but she wanted to teach Zedd a lesson, that he really did need her. She would wait until he asked for her help.

"Excuse me, your Grace," Kris said to the large, blond man reading a book on the Dominion Jewel. "You’re Duke Jeris, are you not?"

"Yes, that’s right." He turned, and she could see his hair was beginning to go to gray, and there were wrinkles forming around his eyes. However, he looked kind and grandfatherly, not like most of the mean old sticks Nik had to deal with. His blue eyes shone with intelligence, and it was plain to see he had once been a very handsome man, and still retained much of his charm. "You might be..."

"My name is Krissen Keliri, and I’m the sword-trainer for the Queen’s Riders. I’ve come to ask a favor. You’re the sponsor of Page Jayshar of Irismere, are you not?"

"Yes, I am. Why do you ask?"

"I’d like to teach him the sword, your Grace. He’s expressed an interest in it, and he’s almost twelve."

"You said your name is Krissen Keliri?" wondered Jeris.

"That’s right."

"Your brother’s mentioned you. Would you be interested in teaching all of the pages?"

"Me?" For a moment, Kris forgot Zedd, forgot everything but what she’d just been offered. "May I teach them with the Riders, your Grace?"

This seemed to take Jeris aback. "My lady, you’ll be better paid training the pages," he began.

"It’s not about the money--and besides, I’m nobody’s lady. I don’t want to abandon the Riders, for one thing, and the pages could benifit from a bit of Rider training. Perhaps not every day--but it will give them a learning oppurtunity. No offense, but I think several of the King’s Own underestimate what a Queen’s Rider can do, and many of the Riders feel that the knighthood is overrated. I’d like to prove them wrong."

"It sounds...interesting. It’s worth a trial, anyway. When would you like to begin?"

Now Kris’s eyes widened. "Is it within your authority to do this? No offense, your Grace, but you’re giving away something huge here--"

"I certainly hope it’s within my authority! Training the pages used to be my job, and I’ve been on the lookout for another teacher." He smiled, the creases around his eyes almost hiding them completely. "I’m getting too old for this."

Like another journey...like so many journeys...the journey home after a visit to Corus, during my childhood.

The sky had begun to clear, finally--a day of riding in the rain had almost made him turn back. Of course, from now on Zedd’s trip would just continue to get drier--until he reached Persopolis, in the heart of the Great Desert. And then more days of riding in the sand, until he would finally come to Port Legann. And a bit further south was Veldine Castle.

To the south of Veldine were Geyshard’s holdings. There were several names within his land, that he’d acquired through marriages, a few assasinations, and other methods best left unnamed. He’d always stayed off Veldine’s borders--Veldine was already shrinking as Port Legann grew, and with other coastling fiefs, it had never been an attractive prospect. So long as Lord Harold remained tactful, Geyshard left Veldine alone.

Until now.

Just another part of the life of the noble--even if you’re not greedy, others are, and your life will be made miserable. I’m so glad I got away.

It was a question he’d asked himself several times on this trip--out loud, even. He’d never made the long journey alone before, and he was beginning to long for some sort of human companionship. He also wondered what Kris was thinking, whether he should have given her more warning--whether this was the right thing to do.

In a way, facing the worst of Lord Geyshard’s wrath seemed light, compared with facing his family again. It was something he had to face alone...something Kris wouldn’t understand.

That’s not precisely true, a voice within him argued. In fact, her situation is rather similar to yours. You both left because you didn’t want to live the lives your parents had chosen for you.

"Yeah, but she’s not going back to them," Zedd replied, not even realizing he was talking to himself. "She’s never done this before. Why would she know what to do or say?"

"You should have more faith in your lady, brother," a man said, his voice both powerful and musical. Zedd gasped--he hadn’t heard the man ride up behind him! Was he that absorbed in his thought?
"Excuse me?" Zedd said, his face white.

"Oh, I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but hear you talking to yourself. But you looked like you could use some company." The man smiled, an incredibly handsome smile. His hair was blond, his eyes bright. A blue cloak covered silver armor that shone almost as brightly as the sun, and he rode a tall black stallion. Even the horse looked intelligent, and not at all interested in Zedd’s mare, Kori.

"The trip to Port Legann is a long one to make alone," Zedd admitted. "I was beginning to think I’d go crazy." He didn’t wonder why he spoke so openly to this man, it just seemed natural. It was almost like he’d run into an old friend instead of a total stranger.

"And when you get there, your problems are just beginning," the man said seriously. Zedd nodded.

"What am I supposed to say? ‘Hello Mom, Dad! I ran away five years ago, but now I’m back to save the day!’ I can’t do that!"

"You fear your family more than your enemy. Don’t. You will have to deal with Lord Geyshard first."

"What?" Zedd took another look at the man. "Just who are you, anyway?" he asked.

"A traveler, like yourself," he replied, his voice calm. "What more I tell you, you are not ready to believe."

"Try me."

"If a name is what you want, I am called by some Protector. It will do, for now. I can help you defeat your enemy, if you will listen to me." The man’s bright eyes stared down at Zedd, waiting.

"I still don’t understand, but I’ll accept your help, Protector," he replied. "I need all the help I can get."

"Then why didn’t you bring Krissen with you?"

Zedd blushed. "How did you know about that?"

The Protector smiled. "Let’s just say, I keep my ears open."

"I--you’re--" Zedd’s face went white, as he finally realized just who his companion was. "You’re--Mithros, god of Light, the Shining Warrior, the Great Protector--"

"Don’t overdo it," the man--or god, really--replied. "Yes, you’re right. Now, let’s get down to business."

Two boys and a girl were standing on the practice grounds. Kris already knew Jayshar, and he introduced the other two as Bradley and Jacea. Bradley was the tallest of the three, a green-eyed blond who looked rather mature for his twelve years. Jacea’s brown hair was tied back, and her hazel eyes twinkled in her mischievous grin. She was the shortest, but strongly built. From what Kris had heard, she’d been one of the best at wrestling and staff fighting.

"Well, children," Kris said. "So, you want to learn the sword. I have some advice for you. I’m going to tell you what my first teacher told me, when I took up the sword. He said, ‘Kris, you’re crazy. Learning the sword takes much more patience than you will ever have. If you can’t keep your temper, you might as well get out now. It’s not easy, and I don’t want to have to put up with your whining. If I do, your lessons are finished!’" She paused to provide a clear end to the quote. "He tried his hardest to make me quit, but--well, obviously I didn’t." The children giggled. "But what he said applies to you, too. You’ve got some tough work ahead of you. But if you want to give up, just remember--what’s a knight without a sword? I’m not going to force you into perfection, just to the utmost of your abilities. I’m sure with that, all three of you will become knights Tortall can be proud of."

Training three knights-to-be was very time-consuming. Bradley always seemed to be reading rather than practicing, and Jacea’s temper got to her more often than not. Jayshar, though--

It may have been their jealously for Jayshar that made Brad and Jace perform so poorly. Kris couldn’t help but love him. He was a sweet boy, a natural at the sword, though not great in the other fighting arts. He had a quick mind and a kind heart, and Hacia told Kris, "for a woman who claims not to like children, you sure act pretty motherly."

"I can’t help it," Kris protested. "The boy needs a mother--his own died giving him birth."

"I grew up with three siblings, and there were always cousins around," Hacia said. "I had to like kids--otherwise, you could never survive in a situation like that. I’d like to have a family of my own, someday. When I get tired of being a Rider."

"I wouldn’t go so far as to say that!" Kris laughed. "Children are fine, I guess, but I haven’t the patience to raise one myself!"

"Oh?" Hacia raised an eyebrow. "The way you and Zedd have been carrying on, you’d think the two of you wanted to repopulate a city!"

Kris blushed. "Don’t talk about Zedd, please," she sighed. "I do enough worrying about him, already."

"Have you even heard from him?"

Kris shook her head. "Nothing. I don’t know--"

"Hacia!" Derren, Hacia’s second-in-command, ran up breathlessly. "A fleet from the Yamani Isles has arrived, and merchants are setting up in the market square," he said. "Come now, before everything gets picked over! This is the chance of a lifetime!"

Jayshar overheard this, and his eyes brightened. "Duke Jeris said the pages and squires got the afternoon off when the ships came. Will you take me, Kris?"

His teacher was grateful for this distraction, and pushed Zedd to the back of her head with a heavy sigh. "Of course," she said. "We’ll check with Duke Jeris to make sure it’s all right, and be on our way!"

Just before it reached Port Legann, the Port Way went over a hill--and from its crest, one could see both the city itself and Veldine Castle, set in the surrounding hills. On the other side of the hill was desert, which Zedd was all too glad to have at his back. With a week of desert travel behind him, almost anything looked good, so long as there wasn’t any sand!

"Not a view you’d thought you’d see again, hmm?" wondered a voice at his back, making him start. Zedd had been on his own for most of the journey, and had begun to convince himself he had imagined his encounter with the Great God Mithros. Now it seemed as if it had been true--or he was having another hallucination.

"This is real, lad, as much as you’d like to discredit it," Mithros told him. Zedd turned to face him, then immediately regretted it. The god shone as brightly as the desert sun, and Zedd shielded his eyes.

"Why are you helping me?" he asked. "I’m not a warrior, just a mage. Now, Kris is more in your line of business."

"Not all of the pieces are in play yet. Not that there’s much time to spare. Sorrow becomes more powerful every day she is in the hands of a mage."

"Sorrow?" Zedd didn’t like feeling as if he were a pawn on a great chessboard, for the gods to push around. But then, what could he do?

"Sorrow is a...well, lets call her a remnant, an artifact of one of the most evil mages to walk this land."

"Roger of Conte," Zedd guessed.

"You’re sharper than you act, Zeddicus of Veldine. But first, look down the road ahead."

Zedd saw a horse and rider, unidentifiable in the distance. They were coming towards him. "Bright God, who--" He turned, but Mithros had vanished. He looked back at the rider, and figured out who it was.

"Kristia!" he gasped happily, and rode towards his sister.

"Here is sword with very good history," the katana-dealer, an old man with a breathy accent, said. Kris listened. "Handmade by great artist Nodoka Gendoku-Shi over hundred year ago, for warrior in Immortals War. Fought bravely, this sword did, and lucky." He pulled the blade out of its scabbard, which was reinforced black leather with a stylized dragon embossed in silver. The steel edge shone in the bright sunlight. "Perfect sword for lady-warrior, no?"

Kris took the sword by the hilt. It was weighted perfectly, and what she knew about katanas told her not to test the edge with her finger. Something as sharp as this would take her finger off without much pressure at all!

But still, one hundred gold nobles was a hefty price tag. If what she had heard about Yamani katanas was true, though, it would be worth it. "I’ll give you eighty-five for it," she said, naming her price low.

"For work of Gendoku-Shi? An insult! I take no less than ninety-five," the dealer replied, sounding hurt.

Kris probably could have haggled it down lower, but all of a sudden she didn’t want to. She couldn’t let this sword get away. "Sold," she said, counting out her money. This exhausted most of what was left of her bonus, as well as her first paycheck for teaching the pages. Almost twice what she’d spent on her last sword, which hadn’t been cheap, either.

For this, it’s worth it, she told herself. For the katana, the best sword ever made. She hooked it to her belt, next to her old sword. Well, I certainly don’t need two of them. Should I sell my old one? Or maybe—

"Jayshar!" she called, retrieving the boy who had wandered off to look at another weapons stand. He longingly eyed a sword they were selling, and Kris smiled.

"What is he doing here?" the man demanded, his eyes widened in angry surprise.

"I don’t know, m’lord, but there’s no denying his presence," the servant stuttered. The man’s gray eyebrows came together in a frown, and he began to pace.

"There is a chance that he will aid us," he said thoughtfully. "The boy was never fond of his parents, and he had the Gift. He is likely a mage by now, a powerful ally."

"And if he doesn’t?" wondered the servant.

"Then he gets to lodge with his sister until we get what we want, or we dispose of him. I’m not a fool, Jackin. The Venom will be here in a week, if Zeddicus will not join us, or if our other methods do not succeed."

"Sir, Lord Harold has also summoned a mercenary company. We could be facing a civil war, m’lord!"

"By the time the King finds out, it will be too late," the man reassured him. "Veldine will be ours within a month." Lord Geyshard eyed the sword that hung on his wall, its jeweled hilt reflecting the moonlight. He walked up to it and took it off its hook, clipping it to his belt and drawing the sword from its sheath. "I swear it upon Sorrow," he told the servant. "Her time for use has come."

Jackin gulped. He’d seen magic swords before, but never one that glowed such a sickly red-orange...

Hacia Fischer walked into the library, not looking for anything in particular other than some good book. A man who looked a lot like Kris sat alone at a table, taking notes on some archaic-looking text. She made the connection that he must be Nikain, Krissen’s twin brother, and the Tortallan Archivist. She walked up to him and cleared her throat.

"Nikain Heransra, I presume?" she asked.

Nik sat up with a start, taking a moment to come out of the world he was in. "What? Oh, yes, yes, that’s me," he said, both looking and sounding flustered. "And you might be..."

"Hacia Fischer. I’ve heard about you--and I was wondering if you could suggest a good book."

Nikain looked at her. Her brown hair was tied back into a simple ponytail, and her eyes were also brown. Her ears were pointed, a feature that seemed to make her look younger, but he guessed she was close to his age. She dressed in simple brown leather, very practical but not very becoming. There were several knives and a sword clipped to her belt, and she was rather muscular, without much extra fat. She reminded Nikain of Kris’s description of some of the women in her old company--plenty of physical strength and weapons-knowledge, very little else. His face unconsciously turned to a frown. "What kind of books would you like to read?" he asked, his tone condescending.

Hacia evaluated Nikain as well. He was rather skinny, with almost no muscle. He obviously hadn’t shaved in several days, and his hair was just as unkempt. Though he was younger than most scholars, he fit the rest of the stereotype perfectly--weak, arrogant, and closed-minded. She would’ve expected more of Kris’s brother, but she seemed to be wrong. "A history’d be nice, so long as it’s interesting," she told him.

"That shelf over there." Nik pointed, then looked back down at his book. Hacia left, glad to be rid of him. She picked out a book on the Lioness, and sat down to read.

"My, you’ve grown!" Zedd found himself saying.

"I can say the same for you," replied Kristia, grinning widely. "Sheesh--I thought you were tall when you left!"

"I’m sorry, I can’t help it." The conversation went on in this fashion for several minutes, and Zedd’s joy at meeting his sister again erased all his worries--for a while, at least. "So, what’s new here?"

Kristia’s face fell. "Father hired a mercenary company," she said distastefully. "The Griffins are stationed in Tusaine, so it’ll take them a while to get here, but you know what it means..."

"War," Zedd replied, his face dead serious. "If the king knew about this..."

"I tried to send another letter, telling you about the mercenaries, but father had a fit," Kristia sighed. "He knew you’d tell the king, so he forbid me to talk to anyone about the Griffins. I can’t believe you actually came!"

"Yeah, well, I’m here. Is there somewhere I can rest--preferably, somewhere free from sand?"

"Yes, of course. I’ve got friends in the village--assuming you don’t want to face Mom and Dad...?" The look on Zedd’s face was answer enough. "C’mon, let’s go before it’s..." She turned her horse around, and her eyes went wide with shock.

"What is it, Kristi?" Zedd turned to follow her gaze, and he let out a yelp.

All the Rider trainees gawked at their teacher’s new blade, and the pages gave both Kris and Jayshar furtive glares of envy.

"D’you know how katanas are tested?" one wide-eyes trainee told another.

"I dunno. How?" the other replied.

"They cut convicts in half." He motioned with his sword, making a rather disgusting sound effect to go with it. "Once, a Yamani convict asked his executioner what cut he’d be using. The executioner told him he’d use a diagonal cut, from shoulder to hip. The convict replied, ‘if I’d have know you were to use that cut, I’d have swallowed stones, so I could nick your blade.’" After that, the girl he’d told the story to looked somewhat green.

Kris switched to a practice blade, but Jaysh insisted on using his new sword--the gift from Kris. She let him, watching proudly.

"You look like a duck whose ducklings just learned to swim," laughed Hacia.

Kris blushed. "He’s a natural. It’s hard to believe he’s just eleven."

"Zedd has a rival, eh?"

Kris shook her head, sighing. "Of course not. I think you’re right, about me feeling motherly towards him. Jaysh, I mean."

"Congratulations, Kris. You’re turning into a real human." Hacia patted her friend on the back.

"What’s that supposed to mean?"

"Even though Zedd’s gone, you’re not moping nearly as much as you used to. You’re actually talking to me, not hiding in your shell."

"I have you and Nik to thank for it," Kris replied. "...And especially Zedd." She clenched her fists. "If I don’t hear from him soon, I’ll kill him, I swear!"

"Look at you. You’re worried sick, but you don’t let it get in your way. Either you’re better at hiding your emotions than my cousin Kawsar, or..."

"It’s not that, it’s something I picked up as a merc. You don’t let conflicts get in the way of your work. It’s an easy way to get killed, and I was never that suicidal. Those people respected me--I couldn’t act childish in front of them."

"Keeping a straight face playing cards will teach you that, too."

"Don’t think you’re going to trick me into playing Champion’s Fist again," Kris said quickly. She remembered that episode all too well--it was a good thing Hacia put a limit on the betting, because she’d been out of all she’d put up very quickly. She’d looked like an idiot, and was glad she had little confidence in her card-playing, or it would have been very quickly shattered.

"You’re not worth my time," Hacia grinned. "Kawsar makes me look like an amateur, though--it’s no wonder he’s become cardmaster for the Court of the Rogue."

"It wouldn’t be so bad if cards were the only thing you could beat me in," Kris replied with a wince, and Hacia could see she was obviously thinking of her atrocious archery.

"Speaking of beating, we have some students in need of some good beating into shape," Hacia said.

"Right," Kris replied with a nod, and they went looking for "victims".

"Welcome back, Zeddicus of Veldine." His voice was just as smooth as his manner. Lord Geyshard was as well-groomed as Nikain wasn’t, with his hair in a neat ponytail and a neatly trimmed moustache. He served wine as red as his Gift, and the design on the hilt of his sword looked somewhat familiar...

"Where’s my sister?" demanded Zedd.

"She’s being kept quite safe, my dear friend. You needn’t worry about her. She shan’t be harmed...when Veldine is mine, Kristia will be set free."

"Look, it’s not Veldine I care about. It’s my sister. Lay a hand on her, and you--"

Geyshard raised a hand, laughing. "I wouldn’t dream of it. Please, relax. Accept my hospitality. You’ve a long trip behind you, and you need to rest yourself. There’s no poison in your food...test it with your own magic, if you wish."

Zedd glared at the man, but was too hungry and thirsty to refuse. The wine and food before him seemed good, and went down quickly.

"Actually, Zeddicus, I would like to ask your help," Geyshard told him lazily. "Your father proves stubborn...even after Kyland’s death, he does not give in. If you could help me...ah...persuade him, your help will be most appreciated."

"And what will I get in return?" Zedd wanted to know.

"Why, what you desire most. The power to become a black robe mage. I will pay your way through the University at Carthak."

"And if I refuse?" He found himself feeling sleepy all of a sudden.

"I suppose there may be a use for you, so I’ll keep you alive," Geyshard said, his grin bloodthirsty. "Barely."

Zedd realized why he was getting so sleepy, and he clenched his fists in anger. "Dreamrose! How dare you--"

"How perceptive of you, little mage!" Geyshard’s eyes widened in surprise. "I figured you might need to sleep on this decision. Sleep well, little mage, sleep well..."