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wills."
    "We say 'God willing' here; you'll have to get used to that, I'm afraid. I understand you conceive of your Creator as female?"
    Tashi's eyes widened. Blasphemy after insults: it was too much!
    "We have made arrangements so you can carry out your religious duties undisturbed," the Prime Minister ploughed on. "There was some opposition, as you might imagine, but we have secured a small temple in the palace grounds for your own private use."
    And I'm supposed to thank him? Tashi fumed. She tapped her fingers on her knees, a sign of severe displeasure if he had known how to read her moods.
    The Prime Minister sighed with relief as they passed under the palace gateway. The carriage drove up to the steps to the Crown Princess's apartments where her servants, who had gone ahead of her, were waiting.
    He helped her descend, then watched her disappear into the building without a word. He turned to his son.
    "Well, what do you think?"
    "I think we've got a problem," said Lord Usk, stuffing the dragonfly into his pocket.
    39
    Confined to his rooms, Ramil had woken with a terrible hangover and decided to get rid of it by returning to drinking. Hortlan and Yendral were trying to dissuade him, but Ramil was too depressed to care.
    "Ah, Lord Usk!" he called in greeting as his friend came back from his trip to the port. "How is my sweet, my darling, my flower of the Blue Crescent?"
    Usk tugged at his tunic, pulling out a crumpled paper object. "She asked me to give you this. It's a . . . actually, I'm not sure; it looks like some kind of bird."
    "Ah, my dove flew across oceans to give this to me!" Ramil scooped up the fragile paper dragonfly and kissed it dramatically. He cast it into the air. It fell in circles to the floor, blunting its point. "Clever girl--look, it flies! Have a drink, Uskie." He slopped some beer into a tankard for him. "So, speak up, what's she like?"
    Usk took the drink, glancing nervously at the other two. They went still, sensing that the news was not good.
    "She's . . . well . . . not very talkative."
    Ramil hit his forehead with the palm of his hand. "They've sent me a mute--
    how kind!"
    "No, she can talk. She's just . . ."
    "Just what? Beautiful? Intelligent? Witty? Everything a man could desire?"
    "Formal."
    Ramil refilled his own tankard and took a deep draught. "To formality--that well-known quality in all good wives!"
    40
    "But she's young. She might warm up a bit when you get her . . . you know ...
    on her own," continued Lord Usk, trying to make the best of it.
    "How young?" asked Lord Hortlan, also looking for a bright side. They all knew their friend was doomed.
    "About sixteen, seventeen maybe. It's hard to tell under all that face paint."
    Yendral began to laugh.
    "What's so funny, my lord?" growled Ramil.
    "That is wonderful--just wonderful--they've sent you the new one," Lord Yendral said, shaking his head.
    "What's so special about the new one?" asked Ramil grumpily.
    "Don't you remember the scandal? She's the farm girl--the one Fergox bribed the priests to choose, if the rumors from Holt are to be believed."
    Ramil threw his tankard at the opposite wall. It chipped the plaster and left a brown stain splattered on the whitewash. "A peasant! I expect you could smell the pigsty, couldn't you, Usk?"
    Lord Usk shook his head, nudging Yendral to stop winding up Ramil. Usk was shocked by the bitterness in Ramil's tone: the Prince was usually the last person to be cruel to another. "No, she seemed very refined as far as I could tell. Remember, Ram, these Blue Crescent people assume the dignity of their elected position. Her background doesn't matter; she's a Crown Princess."
    "You sound like your father," muttered Ramil mutinously. "You can say that it doesn't matter: you're not the one who has to marry her." He looked for his 41
    tankard, then remembered he'd thrown it away. "Marl! Bring me more beer!"
    The serving man appeared in the doorway, fumbling with his apron.
    "I'm sorry, Your Highness,