Lara swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. Yes! She was beginning to feel like herself again. She walked to the window, and pushing it all the way open, she breathed in the soft air, smelling the tangy salt of the sea on the breeze. Tomorrow. She would leave for King Archeron’s palace tomorrow! And then she heard Ethne, her crystal guardian, quite clearly. She reached for the crystal that hung from the gold chain about her neck.

No, Ethne said. You need more rest, my child. Here you are safe. You will never really be safe in Hetar while Gaius Prospero and his compatriots hold power.

But Rendor and his people must leave soon for the Gathering, Lara protested in the silent discourse they had always used to speak with one another.

The Gathering is over a month away, Lara. Take this time while you have it, my child. You must be strong for what lies ahead.

Very well, Lara agreed, and the tiny flame in the crystal flickered. “Why,” she muttered softly to herself, “do the magical beings surrounding me always speak in riddles?” Her ears pricked at the faint sound of laughter.

But Ethne had been right. Lara discovered that she was still tired, and very worn.

She enjoyed having Rahil fuss over her, plying her with tasty meals and making her sleep early, and rise late. Her strength began to return, and after two weeks had passed Lara decided it was now time to leave the Felan. “Tomorrow,” she said that evening to Rendor as they all sat at the high board.

He nodded. “Is dawn too early?”

“Rendor!” Rahil protested.

“It is perfect,” Lara agreed, and put a comforting hand on Rahil’s hand. “I am well and strong again, thanks to you,” she told the woman. “But it is now time for me to go, dear friend. I sense it.”

A tear slipped down Rahil’s sweet round face. “You have suffered so much,” she said. “It doesn’t seem fair to me.”

“You should see her with that sword of hers,” Rendor told his wife. “If you did you would not be fooled by her delicate face and form, wife.” And he chuckled. “Each time I hear Andraste sing it sends icy ripples through me.”

“She is a very fierce battle spirit,” Lara agreed.

“And will you appear before King Archeron as you did the first time?” Rendor wanted to know. “All beautiful and faerie in a flowing white gown?”

“No,” Lara told him. “I will appear as the warrior I am so Archeron will not be mistaken in his opinion of me. I have a destiny to fulfill, and I can allow none to stop me, Rendor.”

Rendor nodded. “Then I am reassured,” he said with a broad smile.

It was a full day’s ride to reach the palace of King Archeron. They left just before sunrise, and reached the sea as the sun pushed up over the horizon. As they rested their horses briefly Lara was suddenly assailed by a thought as she looked out over the blue waters. Where did these waters come from? Where did they end? Did the Coastal Kings know? Would they tell her? And why had she not considered this before, when she first saw the Sea of Sagitta?

Lara knew that her destiny had something to do with this great sea whose waves rolled onto the sandy beach she now traveled. But what? Archeron would surely know more about it. She would ask him. The sea had to end somewhere, didn’t it? Was there a sandy beach like this one on its far side? And if there was, were there people, too? Was it possible Hetar and the Outlands were not all there was to this world which they inhabited? The closer she got to Archeron’s palace the more questions seemed to flood her mind.

“You are quiet,” Rendor noted as they rode along.

“Do you know where the sea ends?” Lara asked him.

The Lord of the Felan look puzzled, and then he said, “The sea just is, Lara.”

“You have never considered what might be on the other side of this sea?” She could see she was confusing him, but perhaps he had heard something that she could coax him to recall by questioning him.

“The sea is the sea,” he answered her. “It is there. It has always been there.”

“Think, Rendor. Yours are the only lands among the Outlands clans to border this water. The Coastal Kings are the only ones in Hetar to border this water. The sea must begin in one place, and end in another. There must be something on its other side.”

“What other side?” Rendor asked now looking seriously befuddled.

He didn’t understand. And truth be known, Lara wasn’t certain she understood either. So many questions filling her head, brought about just by looking upon the Sea of Sagitta again. “I am being foolish,” she said to him, and when she saw the relief in his eyes she knew she had been wise to end the conversation. Rendor hadn’t the least notion to what she had been referring, or what she had meant. But she would wager that King Archeron would understand. The exquisite fabrics, the unique and beautiful jewelry the Coastal Kings brought into the City did not come from their hands. She had seen no manufactories on the coast. So where did the luxury goods come from?

As the morning became afternoon, and then late afternoon, they saw a troop of horsemen coming toward them. Lara was surprised until she realized that Archeron had sent an escort to bring her to him. “How did they know we were coming?” she asked Rendor.

He nodded his head toward the heights that bordered the beach. “Watchtowers. Discreetly placed, I will grant you, but there. You don’t notice them because they look like piles of stones. And they have developed some sort of silent code using flags so that one tower may signal to another.”

“How clever, and how very Hetarian,” Lara chuckled. “I did not notice them the first time we came. That was careless of me.”

“Nay,” Rendor said. “You were coming as Vartan’s wife, to help make peace between the Outlands and Hetar. The mystical faerie woman.” He grinned.

Lara laughed. “Yes, I seem to remember I wore a gown that certainly gave weight to my legend. I carried it to Adrie in a small carved wooden fruit. Vartan was very impressed by a woman who packed so lightly, and looked so beautiful nonetheless.”

“The gown was concealed in a wooden fruit?” Rendor roared with laughter. “I had not heard that before.” Then he grew serious. “He loved you very much, you know, Lara. He said he could not have accomplished what he did without you.”

“He always underestimated himself,” Lara said softly. “He had such greatness in him. I am still angry that fate let that greatness be silenced. My heart is broken, yet I felt nothing at all, Rendor. I feel no guilt for the lives I took. The sorrow consuming me is for Vartan, and for the Fiacre. But I have no pity for Adon and Elin.”

“I regret Vartan’s death is taking you from us,” Rendor said.

“Vartan’s death was but the catalyst. He and I both knew I would leave the Fiacre one day when my destiny called to me again.” Lara sighed deeply, but said nothing more on the subject. What else was there to say?

The escort from the Coastal Kings reached her, and Lara was not surprised to see that it was King Archeron himself who led them. He was a tall, handsome man with silvery white hair and eyes the deep blue of the sea. Sliding quickly from his mount he looked up at Lara and kissed her hand. “Welcome back, widow of Vartan, daughter of Swiftsword,” he greeted her. And then he lifted her from her mount. “Let us walk a ways along the shore, my friend.” Archeron tucked her hand in his arm.

“You are sad,” Lara noted astutely. “What has happened, my lord king?”

“Like you,” Archeron answered her, “I have recently lost my mate.”

“Alina is dead? We had not heard this in the Outlands,” Lara said.

“We sent her out to sea just a few days ago. It was sudden, and very unexpected,” Archeron replied. His jewel-like eyes were bleak with his mourning.

“You put your dead in the sea?” Lara was fascinated.

“We come from the sea,” Archeron said. “And so when our mortal bodies die we return them to the sea. They are sent out into the waters with all the goods that they will need to live in the realm of the Celestial Actuary. Alina’s vessel was beautifully decked, and I did not stint my queen. What do you do in the Outlands?” Now it was the Coastal King who was curious.

“Vartan was set upon a great bier within his hall for two days. It allowed all who wished to pay him honor to do so. The mourners are housed and fed at the family’s expense,” Lara explained. “On the third day the body is brought out of the hall to be placed upon a great funeral pyre, which is then set alight at the hour of the sunset. My son and I remained with him until all that was left were ashes. A wind then sprang up, and blew the ashes away, spreading them throughout the Outlands. This is the custom of the Outlands. It is called a departure ceremony. Criminals, however, are buried in the earth to rot while their souls suffer the torment of the damned. Vartan’s murderer and his wicked wife were so disposed of after I slew them,” Lara responded.

Archeron nodded. “I was told his brother killed him,” he said.

“Aye,” Lara answered him. “Adon had always envied his elder sibling, but I would have never thought he would do something like this. His wife, of course, urged him to it. I always knew Elin was ambitious, but her actions orphaned and endangered her only child. Now his grandmother will raise him alone, and the child will be held responsible for his parents’ actions by many among the Fiacre.”

“Did you ever consider that there was more to this?” King Archeron asked Lara.

Lara stopped suddenly. “What is it you are saying to me, my lord king?”

“Vartan was a powerful voice for the Outlands, Lara, and with you advising him, who knew what heights he might have reached? I have heard a rumor, faint, but very distinct, that there were certain men among the powerful in the City, who considered him a great threat to Hetar and to their own ambitions. And, too, a violent death that Vartan’s faerie wife could not prevent might easily contribute to lessening your own authority.”