“You are quiet,” King Archeron finally said to Lara.
“You have given me a great deal to consider this day,” she answered him.
The king turned to Rendor. “She has told you?”
“Aye,” Rendor replied.
“Good!” Archeron answered him. “The Outlands must be on their guard.”
“You are Hetarian, and yet you do not agree with your own government,” Rendor said. “Why?”
“The government has been corrupted by greedy men,” King Archeron replied. “And these men will bring sorrow to Hetar. I but attempt to delay the inevitable.”
Rendor nodded. “You will guard Lara from harm, my friend, will you not?”
“I will, for she has a destiny to fulfill.” He smiled.
Lara and Rendor laughed.
Then Rendor said, “I shall leave early in the morning. We will depart for the Gathering in a few days. It should be a most interesting time this year.”
“Give my regards to the lords,” Lara told him. And then she arose. “My lord king, will you have someone show me to the chamber that is to be mine?”
Archeron called a servant, and gave the woman her instructions.
Lara walked to where Rendor was now standing. Rising up on her toes, she kissed him on both cheeks. “Until we meet again, my Lord of the Felan,” she said. “The Celestial Actuary guide you in all that you undertake, and keep the Outlands safe from evil men. Farewell!” Then turning to her host, she bid him good-night and followed the servant from the little dining hall.
The chamber to which Lara was brought was not the same one she had once shared with Vartan, and she was grateful for Archeron’s sensitivity. But like that room, it had a single large arched window with an almost hidden door that opened onto a marble terrace overlooking the sea. The servant showed Lara the bathing pool, which was on that terrace, and not inside her chamber. Then she bowed, and left the king’s guest to herself.
Lara dipped her hand into the small square pool. The water was warm and scented with yellow primrose. With a smile Lara pulled off her boots and stripped off her leather pants, her vest and her shirt. Not even bothering to pin her hair up, she stepped naked into the pool with a deep sigh of pleasure. There was nothing like a warm bath. Finding the seating ledge she sat down, and just enjoyed the sensation of the water lapping against her skin. There was an alabaster jar of soft soap on the side of the tub, and a large sea sponge. Lara filled the sponge with soap, and washed herself in the lavishly rich cleansing agent. Then she washed and rinsed her golden hair, wishing that she had a lemon to squeeze into it in a final rinse. No sooner had she thought it than there was a cut lemon on the edge of the bathing pool. Laughing, she squeezed it into her hair, laving clean water from the curved shell faucet over her head.
But then the pool was swiftly draining itself. Sprays of water shot from small recessed spigots in the pool wall, rinsing her off. She bent to let the water cleanse the last of the lemon from her head before the bathing pool refilled itself with scented water. Lara relaxed as she watched the golden coastal moon rising higher, and was lulled by the sound of the waves below the great palace.
When the sky was finally dark she walked back into her chamber to find the lamps had been lit, and a small fire was burning in the little hearth opposite her bed. Drying herself with the large drying cloth she found warming on a rack by the fire she slipped on a loose night robe. Her pack had been brought to her chamber, and opening it she drew out the beautiful gold brush that Kaliq, the Shadow Prince, had once given her as a lover’s token. Seating herself on a small velvet hassock by the fire she brushed her hair dry. She was finally beginning to feel sleepy. Lara climbed into the large comfortable bed draped in coral and gold silk curtains. What would tomorrow bring, she wondered? And how long would she remain here in Archeron’s palace? Her eyes closed slowly of their own volition.
She awakened with the dawn, and rose to see the sunrise from her terrace. She had slept a sound and dreamless sleep. For the next few weeks Lara’s days were relatively the same. She awoke, ate her morning meal upon the marble terrace and then walked about the town belonging to King Archeron’s palace. The lords of the coastlands had long ago decided that each of their leaders would be a king with his own palace and village. It saved a great deal of debate, and the oldest of the kings was always recognized as their High King, no matter the family from which he came.
The palace was white marble, with soaring towers and gold-leafed domes. The town into which it blended was much the same. The windows of the houses overlooking the streets were bright with flower boxes holding blooms of every size and hue. The stalls in the market square were clean and filled with goods being hawked from beneath multicolored awnings.
Lara had no need of coin. If she saw something she admired it was pressed into her hand. She returned the kindness with a faerie blessing, which she learned was far preferred to silver or gold. And everyone knew who she was. The daughter of the great Crusader Knight, John Swiftsword, and a faerie mother, although her mother did not matter to the Hetarians. Nor did her sojourn in the Outlands where it was rumored she had mated with, and given one of the men there children. She was still the great beauty that she had been reputed to be.
In the afternoons Lara would ride along the beach with King Archeron, and in the evenings they would dine together. Often their evenings were spent in conversation. Other times they would play a board game similar to the one she had played with Vartan.
And then one evening Archeron announced to his guest that his son and heir, Arcas, would soon be returning from the City.
“No one travels the old-fashioned way any longer,” he told Lara. “The representatives are now all transported to and from the City by means of magic.”
“With whom has he served?” she asked, curious.
“King Balasi,” Archeron answered. “His is an old and very respected family. But I find him easily led, and perhaps a bit foolish. When it is his turn to serve on the High Council in the City we always see he is sent with someone strong who is able to direct Balasi without his being aware of it. He is unable to cause difficulties then, for he is a pompous, self-important man. My son has never forgotten you, Lara.”
“I did not say it when I was last here, but Arcas offended me deeply,” Lara told her gracious and kindly host. “But perhaps it was just his enthusiasm that caused him to act in the manner in which he did.”
“What did he say?” Archeron was distressed by her revelation.
“He made reference to my slavery, and then he touched me in an intimate manner,” Lara said quietly. “I did not speak gently to him.”
“I am sorry,” Archeron replied. “But then, as you have considered, surely it was just his enthusiasm at meeting you that caused his breach of manners.”
Lara nodded in seeming agreement with the king, but she knew Arcas’s behavior had been caused by little more than his lustful nature. She was not looking forward to meeting him again. “There is a question that I have wanted to ask you ever since I saw the Sea of Sagitta again,” she began.
“I will answer your query if I can,” he said, glad to be off the subject of Arcas.
“What is on the other side of your sea? And why is naught said about it?” Lara looked directly at King Archeron as she spoke.
He chuckled. “No one has ever asked that question of me,” he began. “How clever of you, Lara, to consider such a thing. Hetar believes it alone exists, but for the Outlands, which Hetar has declared a savage place in order to make itself seem more civilized and important. It is a very narrow view. But on the other side of the sea is a land its inhabitants call Terah. It is ruled over by the Dominus of the Terahn Dominion. It is from there our luxury goods come—the