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painted gold, and the afternoon sunlight gilded it further. How many more sips before it was too bright to look at?
    His companions at the table were also hard to see, but not because of what he'd been drinking. Despite the long embroidered robe of fine green wool that Reed Chalmers wore, and the brighter silks and brocades that clad the Rus, they were all lost against the paint and gilding of the walls. Bright reds, blues, and greens patterned with gold—the prince, princess, and Mikhail Sergeivich fit right in.
    "Vsevolod will ride," Igor said. "The bards don't call him a fierce aurochs just to flatter him. He maintains a full band at Kursk, so they can start at once."
    "The prince your brother needs to get his harvest in, as do you," Euphrosinia pointed out.
    "Who needs warriors for that? We could be over the Don and back before threshing is over!"
    "And who will collect your taxes if your men are over the Don? Besides, if the rains come early, you'll do well to return before butchering is over."
    "Hm . . . Can the two of you control the weather, Egorov Andreivich?"
    "I'm afraid not, Your Highness."
    "Someone needs to keep an eye on young Sviatoslav Borisovich," Mikhail Sergeivich commented. "He's been talking too loudly and too long, of late."
    "The ambitions of the young," Igor said. "Boris Vsevolodovich, God rest his soul, is a year dead. With the old stallion gone, the young one is kicking up his heels."
    "Unless God brings Sviatoslav to a better mind, he'll be in your court before another year's out," Mikhail Sergeivich replied.
    "Perhaps I should require his services on this expedition."
    "Would you trust him at your back?" Both Euphrosinia and Mikhail Sergeivich seemed to speak at once.
    "Ah, well . . ."
    "And what is that sorcerer likely to do?" Mikhail asked.
    "Probably set a trap with an illusion spell," Chalmers answered. "He'll be aching for the chance to pay us back."
    "So will that chief," Euphrosinia said. "Will he even keep trade-truce?"
    The talk turned to boyars and princes willing and able to ride. There was no question that the Polovtsi had numbers on their side, and it was obvious that the raid on Nizhni Charinsk had shaken many of the Rus.
    "The raid may have been fortuitous, but no one wants to ride against a sorcerer," Euphrosinia concluded.
    "They will if I order them, and I will if I must," Igor growled. "I have sworn to free those captives."
    "They will ride more willingly after harvest," the princess said.
    The meeting broke up shortly afterward. Chalmers and Shea took a turn in the palace yard to stretch their legs, then returned to their room. "The last thing I expected here was a Board of Directors meeting," Shea groused. "If I had taken a few more sips I would have sworn I was back at Garaden."
    Chalmers did not respond, and Shea looked closely at his colleague. They'd survived some nasty spots in various dimensions, but this was the first time Shea had seen Reed Chalmers so close to the breaking point.
    " My wife . . . is a slave , and I can't cut the bastards' throats!" Shea could hear the tears, but they didn't—quite—show.
    "Reed," Shea said, and then no more for a while. When Chalmers seemed more in command of himself, Shea continued.
    "Igor's doing the best he can, but we shouldn't depend on him. There's magic in this universe, so what can we do with it?"
    They tried to recall verses on freedom and emancipation, but their harvest was meager. Slavery was also a part of this universe, so they doubted the effectiveness of any spell based on its immorality. The few spirituals that Shea remembered emphasized freedom in the next world.
    "I don't think it would be any use trying to freeze the Don so she could walk across it, even if we could get there," Shea concluded, looking out at the sunset. "Maybe my subconscious will trigger something tonight. The morning is wiser than the evening, even if the Rus do say it all the time. Coming to dinner, Doc?"
    "Not tonight. I really have no