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dear child becomes you, but I beg you to give thought to our impending marriage. There is much trouble in the land, and my Imperial brother wants a strong and forceful master here.”
    Jeon’s head jerked back, and his face flamed. He said, “My brother Luka is the master here. He is the true King.”
    Erdhart bent his smile on Jeon. His pale hands clasped together before him. He said, “Dear Prince Jeon, whom I shall soon call Son, there is a paper in the Holy City that says otherwise.”
    Jeon bit his lips together so tight he seemed to have no mouth. Marioza knew he would not say what he had come to tell her while this man was here, and she was suddenly very eager to hear him. She went across the room to her bed, and sat down on it.
    â€œWhatever that paper says, I am still Queen in my own bedroom. I will accompany you later, sir.”
    Erdhart’s hands parted. She saw he was considering commanding her. Once she married him, he would see no barrier to being in her room whenever he wished. In her body also. Her knuckle throbbed where he had bitten her. She put this new hate in with all the others, like a quiver of arrows.
    Jeon said, “My lord, my mother has dismissed you.”
    The Emperor’s brother smiled at him, smooth as silk. “Then I shall take my leave. Lady, we shall dine.” He turned back to the door, where now, out in the corridor, his two sons were waiting; he went out between them.
    Jeon went to the door and slammed it and ran the bolt over it. “Mother, he is vile.”
    She put her hand over her knuckle, which was bleeding, and turned her gaze back to her window. The oncoming storm was lashing the sea white as far as she could see, the clouds boiling black, the wind full of grit. She said, “What is it? I saw how you looked at me.”
    â€œMother—” He came up beside her. “I heard something today—from the north. A traveler, in the marketplace, come from the north, He was talking about a crazy woman roaming wild up there.”
    Marioza lifted her head, all her body suddenly thrilled with premonition. Her son fixed her with his eyes. “A woman who shouts and screams gibberish.”
    â€œAh!” she cried, joyful. Then, almost at once, she saw the other side in this.
    So did Jeon. He was taut as a harp string. He said, “Mother, what shall I do?”
    â€œAh,” she said, again. “She has always been a bad omen to me, since she was born.” She put her hand to her mouth, and licked her knuckle. Her daughter: in spite of all, Marioza’s heart warmed, glad. Tirza was alive, alive. “Go find her. We must send her back to Santomalo, as soon as possible, but I would see her first.”
    He embraced her. “Mother. Thank you. Thank you.” And went away, silly boy, to find the misbegotten child who was better off gone.
    *   *   *
    The coast ran long out of the east to Cape of the Winds, and there beneath the black rocks of Castle Ocean turned sharp to the south. From the cape, a long jagged spur ran southward for over a mile, like a row of long teeth, which the local people called the Jawbone. Between this spur and the shore was a little bay, and in this shelter, halfway between sea and land, over long years the town of Undercastle had grown. The castle itself stood above the head of the bay, black as thorn against the clear blue sky, reaching halfway to the sun.
    Jeon came out of a sea gate onto the beach and went on toward the town. He knew every stone of this place, every name and face, and that had begun to grate on him. The town’s four fishing boats usually moored at the head of the bay, in the deep water there, but they were all gone, left when the tide went out. He came up to the edge of the town, where the potter was just opening her stall, and caught the first whiff of the bread baking in the ovens she shared with the baker. Under his feet the mixed black and white sand