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barons.
    "Majesty, in this world, you cannot balance yourself between the Deity and the Devil. You must choose one or the other, for every single action is either Good or Evil."
    "Then I shall choose neither, but another source of power al-together. " "Your Majesty," Rebozo cried, exasperated, "you cannot!
    In an-other world, perhaps, but not in this one! And this is all the world you will ever know! Every single action in this world sends you either one step closer to Hell, or one step closer to Heaven!
    Every thought you cherish, every breath you draw!"
    "Then I shall play one off against the other," King Boncorro told him, "as good statesmen have ever done with powers that they cannot conquer. Go send my word to the dukes, Chancellor-and to the earls, and the barons."
    Rebozo knew a royal command when he heard one, especially since the young king had addressed him by his title, not his name. He

bowed, resigning himself to the worst. "As your Majesty wills. Am I dismissed, or is there more you would tell me?"
    "oh, I think that is quite enough for one morning," Boncorro said smiling. "Go do your work, Chancellor, while I think up more troubles for you."
    Rebozo wished he could be sure the young man was joking.

Chapter One
    Matt fingered a turnip absently as he eavesdropped with all his might. It wasn't easy-the marketplace was alive with noise and color, particularly noise. Rickety booths draped in bright-hued cloth crowded every available inch of space; the fair's marshals kept having to order merchants to move their booths back to leave the mandated three yards of aisle space, especially where those pathways opened out into the small plazas where the acrobats and minstrels performed. There were even fiddlers and pipers, so the fair always had strains of music underlying its raucous clatter.
    There was a surprising variety of produce for a town so far inland-but then, Fairmede had grown up around the merchants, for it sat right against the Alps, at the foot of a pass through the mountains, and beside a river, too-a small river, but one that ran northwest to join a larger, and the towns grew bigger as the river ran farther. Merchants came down on barges to meet other merchants coming in over the Alps, and peasants came flocking from the countryside on both sides of the mountains, to sell food to the merchants. There were vegetables and fruit, pork and poultry, cloth and furs, ribbons and thread, pots and pans and crockery-even spices and silks from the East. Those were being sold by the few professional merchants; most of the other vendors looked to be peasants, trying to turn a few pennies by selling the surplus the lords allowed them to keep. Matt knew that in Merovence, Queen Alisande insisted her lords leave their serfs at least a little for a cash crop; and the new King of Latruria, the king
    dom to the south, seemed to have decided on the same policy-at least, to judge by the conversation Matt was working so hard at over-hearing.
    At the next booth the serf who was selling fruit was boasting a bit. "We have two cuttings of hay each summer now, and the harvests of wheat and barley have been rich these last three years, very rich."
    "That may be so," said a goodwife, "but how much of it do you take home?"
    "Half now! A full half! Ever since young King Boncorro came to the throne, we have paid to our lord only half of what we grow!"
    "Truly?" asked a musclebound peasant. "Your young king made his noblemen give you that much?"
    "Aye! And of our share, my wife and I live on three parts and sell one! She has copper pots now! I have an iron hoe, and our children wear shoes!"
    "Shoes?" A third peasant stared, eyes huge. She was young, with a baby in her arms, and the hulking youth beside her was as amazed as she. "Real shoes, of leather?"
    "Aye! No more of wrapping their poor little feet in rags to keep out the winter's chill! Real shoes, of soft leather, with hard soles!" The girl turned to her husband. "Mayhap we should