“The harvest must be brought in first,” Squire Darah said. “It is amazingly bountiful this year, and we will be able to feed all at reasonable prices.”

“Excellent! But can you spare enough men to teach some here in The City that art of thatching?” the Hierarch asked Squire Darah.

“That I can do, and gladly!” the governor of the Midlands answered.

“We have men to rebuild,” Councilor Mikhail said. “And if the Midlands or any of the other provinces need our aid there are men to spare.”

“And who is expected to pay these men for their labor?” Cuthbert Ahasferus asked sourly.

The Hierarch turned his blue eyes on the man. “Your guild will be assessed their share, as will the magnates. Sir Philip, Sir Anatol, your Crusader Knights have a large treasury that has lain untouched for years. You will bear the cost of the repairs to the Garden District. Everyone in Hetar must have a sound, dry habitation by the start of the Icy Season. Let us cease now for today. You will all be required to remain here in the palace until we have entirely completed our business. Lord Jonah will see to your comfort, and that my wishes are obeyed precisely. Tomorrow we will meet in midmorning to discuss the fair distribution of foodstuffs until the markets can be reopened. There is also a matter of the Mercenary Guild and the Crusader Knights to decide.”

“What matter?” Peter Swiftfoot wanted to know.

“Your futures,” the Hierarch replied mysteriously, and then, blessing them, he disappeared from their sight.

The High Council gasped, astounded at this.

“Where did he go?” Master Rupert of the Midlands wanted to know.

“Can there be any doubt now that he is who he says he is?” Prince Coilin said. “Only someone with great powers could disappear like that.”

Prince Lothair hid a smile, for he had seen Kaliq toss his cloak about Cam and then disappear.

“Well, I for one will be glad to have Hetar get back to normal,” Lady Eres of the Pleasure Women’s Guild said. “Without our former prosperity there is little business these days. Only by the careful management of our Pleasure Mistresses have we been able to survive these last few years.”

“Aye,” Maeve Scarlet from the Guild of Pleasure Mistresses agreed. “I will be happy to see things returning to normal.”

“We must do better than we have in the past century,” Councilor Mikhail said quietly. “It was our own negligence that caused us to fail as a society.”

“I do not see what we did that was so wrong,” Aubin Prospero spoke up.

“You do not comprehend that greed for more and more profit caused our kingdom to fail?” Mikhail replied angrily. “You are not shamed to see hunger and want sweep our people to desperation? Despair is not wrong? Ignorance is not wrong? Perhaps, Aubin Prospero, if you lived among the people instead of being insulated from them in the Golden District, you might understand what has happened to Hetar. Do you ever venture into the streets anymore except to scuttle like a rat to your counting house?”

“You are as insulated as I am in the Garden District,” Aubin Prospero shouted back at the councilor from the General Population.

“I haven’t lived in the Garden District since I was twenty,” Mikhail, son of Swiftsword, said. “I own a small house near The Quarter where I was born. I know the people for I am one of them.”

“Your words border on sedition,” Cuthbert Ahasferus blustered.

“So speaks one of our greatest profiteers,” Lady Gillian said softly.

“My lords! My ladies! Enough!” the Lord High Ruler spoke loudly above the din of the council chamber. “The council is dismissed until tomorrow. As the Hierarch has told you, you are all my guests.”

“I need to send word to my wife,” Aubin Prospero said.

“A messenger will be dispatched to each of your homes to inform those there of your whereabouts,” Lord Jonah told them. “No personal messages will be carried for any of you, and the guards will be made aware of my order.”

“Do you not trust us?” Aubin Prospero demanded to know. “Has it come to this? Would you side with a stranger over your own kind, my lord?”

“The Hierarch was always expected to come to Hetar in time of great trouble, my lord,” Jonah said. “Have you so lost faith in everything and everyone but yourself and your profit that you would ask such a question of me?” Turning, he murmured to Lionel, who nodded, and hurried off. “Each of you will be escorted to your own guest chamber by my guards. You will remain there until your names are called. I will see you at dinner, my lords and my ladies.” And, turning, Jonah departed the council chamber.

The two Shadow Princes waited with the others until they were escorted off to their own chambers. Silently they communicated with one another, and as soon as they were left in their quarters they each transported themselves to Shunnar, where Kaliq and Lara were waiting for them.

“We cannot remain long,” Lothair said. “Lara, my beauty, it is good to see you.” He kissed her cheek with a smile, causing Kaliq to glower.

“Aye, we have all been requested to remain at the Lord High Ruler’s palace tonight. Our merchant friends are very angry,” Prince Coilin said. “We must return in time for dinner with the Lord High Ruler.” He chuckled.

“Jonah seems to have found faith all of a sudden,” Lothair noted, grinning. “What did you do with our Hierarch?”

“I took him back to the little room he so modestly inhabits. He was quite relieved to find himself there, for now that the Darkling has deserted him he is very nervous of being found out for a fraud. I advised him to eat lightly and rest. That on the morrow I would transport him back to the council chamber,” Kaliq said.

“Your exit was quite dramatic,” Coilin murmured.

“It caused a brief discussion on faith in the Hierarch, which of course degenerated into an argument between the merchant representatives and the Lord High Ruler,” Lothair said, grinning. “And then Lord Jonah virtually locked the council away until the morning except for a dinner over which he will preside. The merchants protested, for they will have wanted to warn their fellows of what is to come. Jonah didn’t give them a chance.”

“What lies ahead is a huge task,” Lara told them. “We will use our powers to help the people of Hetar gain their goals by the Icy Season. They will not know that we aid them. They will believe that they have done it themselves, and it will give them a sense of accomplishment and national pride. They will then be ready for the next step in their rehabilitation.”

“What did you mean, Kaliq,” Lothair asked, “when you had the Hierarch tell them he had plans for the Crusader Knights and the Mercenary Guild?”

“The Mercenaries have always had but one task. To be the foot soldiers for war, or for guarding the caravans of the Taubyl traders. When there is no war to fight or traders to protect, they sit about idly drinking in the taverns of The Quarter, dicing, and expecting to be paid nonetheless. This cannot continue. Each Mercenary must be taught a trade, and put that trade to good use supporting himself and his family when his services as a Mercenary are not required. The wars of the last decade and the sicknesses that have swept Hetar have cut its population in half. But as long as Hetar insists on living as it always has no progress can be made.

“As for the Crusader Knights, they, too, must change. They have lost many of their members in these futile wars, and to illness and old age. And times being what they have been, they have not replenished their ranks. Perhaps the time has come to dismantle them.”

“Nay,” Lara said. “The Crusader Knights must remain. They must be rebuilt, but on a smaller scale I will agree. Should there ever be a war again it is these men who are the leaders of the armies. They are needed. The opportunity that they offer at their tournament for any who can meet their requirements is necessary, as well. Had my father not sought that opportunity he would have remained among the ranks of the Mercenaries, and I might never have had the opportunity to seek out my own destiny among this world. Surely you must see that, Kaliq.”

“But they serve no purpose except in war,” the Shadow Prince said.

“Then we will find a purpose for them that they can practice in times of peace, my lord,” Lara said. “Oddly many are artisans in their spare time, but of course only for their own amusement. What if those talents were turned to profit?”

“So speaks she who was born in Hetar,” Kaliq teased. Then he grew a bit more serious. “A warrior who turns from killing to beauty. There is an odd balance to it, my love. I like it! But they will resist, of course.”

“If they are told now there can be no new tournament to replenish their ranks, that the Crusader Knights will become a thing of the past until they can change, they will grumble, but will change,” Lara said. “We did promise a new tournament next year.”

“You grow cleverer with each passing year,” Lothair complimented.

“Nay, my lord,” Lara teased him. “With each passing day.”

The three Shadow Princes laughed aloud, and Kaliq said, “I have always considered modesty a lesser virtue, my brothers.”

“We must return to our guest chambers,” Coilin said. “It would not do to be called for dinner, and not be there.” And he was gone.

“He’s right,” Lothair agreed, and he, too, disappeared.

The following day in Hetar the High Council met again with the Hierarch presiding over them. The Lord High Ruler’s wife had slipped into the council chamber out of curiosity, for she had never before seen the Hierarch except from a distance. A deep blue veil covering her head, Zagiri watched from a corner in the rear of the room. There was something about the Hierarch that was familiar, but she could not quite put her finger on it. Still it troubled her, and she could not shake the feeling.