That night as Zagiri lay in her bed with her husband she considered the Hierarch. “Jonah,” she said, “just who is this Hierarch? Where does he come from, my lord?”

“The legend only said that the Hierarch would come when Hetar was facing a time of terrible trials,” he answered her.

“Is he mortal? Or is he someone from the magic worlds?” Zagiri persisted.

“I do not know,” Jonah said. “Why do you ask me?”

“He seems familiar to me,” Zagiri responded.

“Then he is probably someone from your mother’s world whom you may have once seen,” Jonah replied. “I feel better knowing that.”

“Will he stay in Hetar forever?” Zagiri wondered.

“The Hierarch? Nay. When he has set us on the right path again it is said he will disappear back to wherever he came from.” Jonah rolled over, and took his wife into his arms. “Come, and take pleasures with me, my golden girl,” he said to her. “Your pretty head should not be filled with questions about the Hierarch. I will always take care of you.” And Jonah kissed her ruby-red lips passionately, fondling her breasts as Zagiri reached out to stroke his manhood with her now very skilled fingers. But her mind was still filled with thoughts of the Hierarch.

And then several days later it came to Zagiri in a flash of memory. The Hierarch reminded her of her mother’s wicked nephew. She could not remember his name, but she knew the Hierarch looked exactly like him. She had seen him her last summer in the New Outlands tending cattle in a meadow near the village of Rivalen. And later at The Gathering. Zagiri understood that the Hetarians believed those people who had once inhabited the Outlands were savage, undisciplined, ignorant barbarians. Hetar would have enslaved them when they annexed the Outlands. But her mother and her allies had rescued the clan families, and resettled them in Terah with the blessing of Magnus Hauk.

Zagiri knew that her mother was revered by the clan families. She also knew they were not what the Hetarians believed they were. They were agrarian by nature, but highly intelligent. There was even one small clan family, the Devyn, who were the poets, the bards, the keepers of the clan families’ verbal history, which they would recite and sing each year at The Gathering.

What if this young man who was known as the Hierarch was actually the nephew her mother so disliked? An Outlander. The outcast member of the Fiacre clan family. Did her mother know if he was? And if he was, did it mean her mother was using this Fiacre male to wreak her revenge upon Hetar because Zagiri had run away and wed with the Lord High Ruler of Hetar? Did Lara mean to embarrass Jonah and the people of Hetar by foisting this fraudulent Hierarch upon them?

Or was it merely a coincidence that the Hierarch looked like her mother’s nephew? Was he actually who the Hetarians believed he was, a savior come to help them in this terrible time of trouble? A member of the same magic kingdoms to which her mother belonged? And were her mother and her allies aiding him? Certainly the Hierarch had not caused any harm, although she had heard from her husband and those about her that he was proposing radical changes to Hetar’s traditions.

Zagiri did not know what to do. As First Lady of Hetar was it not her duty to bring her concerns to her husband? Yet she knew Jonah well enough by now to understand he would use any information she gave him to his own advantage, and not necessarily in Hetar’s best interests. Zagiri wanted her husband to be the same kind of strong and benevolent ruler her father had been. And he could be under her influence. She had not really wielded that influence to date, but she was no fool. Jonah adored her, and by being clever she could bring out the best in him. Until now all the women in his life had encouraged the darkness in him to flourish.

Zagiri needed to speak with her mother, but she knew that Lara was still angry with her. A year had passed since she had let herself be magicked to Hetar, and in that time Lara had not once contacted her, or sent an emissary to her. Zagiri felt a tear slip down her cheek as she realized how much she missed Lara. She hadn’t wanted to disobey her mother, but those few meetings with Jonah on the Dream Plain had sent her tumbling headlong into love with him. She didn’t understand why she had fallen in love with this Hetarian. He was not a young man and his character could hardly be considered noble in either thought or deed. But love him Zagiri did. So much so that when he had sold off two of their three sex slaves she had freed Doran. Then to her mother-in-law’s double fury she had set the former sex slave up in his own business. The Pleasure Mistresses of The City were delighted, for Doran was an excellent trainer of new Pleasure Women. He would soon be a rich man.

For the last two months Zagiri’s only lover had been her husband. She had ceased taking the herbs to quell pregnancy and she prayed for a child. Her stepson, Egon, was becoming a fine young man with her mothering. He held no resentment toward the young stepmother just a few years his senior. But Zagiri had begun to long for her own child. Perhaps a daughter. Now, however, she had other things to think about. Hidden within her own little privy chamber, and swallowing her pride, she called out to her mother. “Mother, Mother, hear my call, and come to me from out yon wall.” She waited. Again she cried out to Lara. “Mother, Mother, hear my call, and come to me from out yon wall!” Still Lara did not come.

Zagiri felt tears welling up in her eyes. Never before had Lara behaved so coldly to her. And then for a brief moment she grew angry. She would tell Jonah that she believed the Hierarch to be a despised Outlander. Then reason set in once more. “Prince Kaliq, hear my plea. Cease all else, and come to me,” Zagiri said, and to her enormous relief the Shadow Prince appeared to her. “Oh, my lord!” Zagiri cried. Then she burst into tears, flinging herself into his arms.

Astounded by this unexpected outburst, Kaliq comforted her. “What is the matter, Zagiri?” he asked her, drawing a silk square from his sleeve, and handing it to her so she might wipe her eyes. He waited for an explanation.

Zagiri finally managed to control herself, but she clung to the silk square he had offered her. With a final sniff she moved out of his embrace, saying, “Thank you, my lord, for answering me. I called to Mother twice, but she will not come. I must speak with her, my lord. I must! It is very important.”

“Tell me what it is about, Zagiri,” Kaliq said quietly.

“It is the Hierarch, my lord. I think I know something about the Hierarch,” Zagiri told him in a whisper. “I really need to speak with Mother.”

Kaliq nodded. Lara was still angry at Zagiri. She had heard her daughter calling to her, but she would not answer her. And when Kaliq had scolded her Lara had stalked off across his garden. He could, of course, bring her here to Zagiri now. His magic was far stronger than Lara’s. But the Shadow Prince knew that the walls had ears in Hetar’s royal palace. When mother and daughter met again there was likely to be a loud argument. Wrapping his cloak about Zagiri, he said, “Come!” And when he flung back the garment they were in Shunnar in his garden.

“Where are we?” Zagiri gasped. “Is this your palace, my lord? Ohh, you must take me back! I should not be here.”

“Of course I will take you back, Zagiri,” Kaliq told her calmly. “But your mother remains angry at you. I might have brought her to you, but I think you know that everyone in Hetar would have heard her outrage with me and with you if I had. Better the pair of you work out your differences here than in your little privy chamber, Zagiri.”

Seeing the sense in his words, Zagiri nodded.

“Good! Are you ready for me to bring her to you?” the Shadow Prince asked with a small smile, and Zagiri nodded again. “Lara, come to me now,” Kaliq said. She did not appear, and he was not of a mind to play games with her. Zagiri could not remain long else she be discovered missing. His deep blue eyes narrowed, and with a snap of his fingers he brought Lara into the garden.

“Kaliq!” she cried, outraged, and immediately disappeared.

The Shadow Prince snapped his fingers twice this time, bringing her back.

Furious, Lara attempted to transport out of his sight again, but she discovered that she couldn’t. “What have you done, you villian?” she demanded to know.

“Your daughter has come to make peace with you, and tell you something of import,” Kaliq said in a stern voice.

Lara turned to walk away. If she couldn’t use her magic she could use her feet. But to her shock she couldn’t move her legs. “Kaliq!” she shrieked at him.

“I have rooted you to the spot where you stand, my love. Now greet Zagiri,” he told her.

“I will not forgive you for this, Kaliq!” Lara threatened him.

He did not answer her.

“Mother, please,” Zagiri pleaded. “Please speak with me. I am sorry I made you angry running away, but I really do love Jonah. I know I can make him a better mortal. He loves me. Jonah has never loved anyone in his life but himself, but he loves me.”

Lara remained stone-faced and silent.

“Mother, I believe I recognize the Hierarch. I think he is your nephew. Do you know that? Are you helping him, or are you using him to harm Hetar?” Zagiri said. “What would happen if Hetar learned that a despised Outlander was calling himself their Hierarch, Mother? Surely you do not hate Hetar that much.”

“Have you told Jonah?” Lara asked, speaking the first words to her daughter that she had in over a year.

“Of course not,” Zagiri said. “I wanted to speak with you first to obtain your advice in this matter.”

“You want my advice now?” Lara asked scornfully. “You did not want it before you ran off and married the Lord High Ruler of Hetar when you were expressly forbidden to do so by your brother.”