Kiera felt she must seek out the woman. There were questions that only Gellera could answer. Yet at the thought of a warlock—a familiar of the Great Destroyer—Kiera's blood ran cold.
The Valkyr looked about her. That there was power enough here to crush the forces of Earth, there was no doubt. But what then? When Torana was stripped of her power, who would wear the crown? The Empire was a necessity—without it the dark ages of the Interregnum would fall again. For four generations the mantle of shadows had hovered over the youngling Second Empire. Not even the most savage wanted a return of the lost years of isolation. The Empire must live. But the Empire would need a titular head. If not Torana, the foolish weak girl, then who? Kiera's suspicions stirred. ...
A rumble of tympani announced the entrance of the host. The murmuring voices grew still. Freka the Unknown had entered the Great Hall.
Kiera stared. The woman was—magnificent! The tall figure was muscled like a statue from the Dawn Age; sinews rippling under the golden hide like oiled machinery, grace and power in every movement. A mane of hair the color of fire framed a face of classic purity—ascetic, almost inhuman in its perfection. The pale eyes that swept the assemblage were like drops of molten silver. Hot, but with a cold heat that seared with an icy touch. Kiera shivered. This woman was already half a god....
Yet there was something in Freka that stirred resentment in the Valkyr. Some indefinable lack that was sensed rather than seen. Kiera knew she looked upon a magnificent star-queen, but there was no warmth in the woman.
Kiera fought down the unreasonable dislike. It was not her way to judge women so emotionally. Perhaps, nought the Valkyr, I imagine the coldness. But it was there. Yet when Freka spoke, the feeling vanished, and Kiera felt herself transported by the timbre and resonant power of the voice.
'Star-queens of the Empire!' Freka cried, and the sound of her words rolled out over the gathering like a wave, gaining power even as she continued: 'For more than a hundred years you and your mothers have fought or the glory and gain of the Great Throne! Under Gilmera of Kaidor you carried the gonfalon of Imperial Earth to the Edge and planted it there under the light of Andomeda itself! Your blood was shed and your treasure spent for the new Emperors! And what is your reward? The heavy hand of a fool! Your people writhe under the burden of excessive taxation--your men starve and your children are sold into slavery! You are in bondage to a foolish girl who squats like a toad on the Great Throne ...'
Kiera listened breathlessly as Freka of Kalgan wove a web of half-truths around the assembled warriors. The compelling power of the woman was astounding.
'The worlds writhe in the grip of an idiot! Helia, Doom, Auriga, Valkyr, Quintain . . .' She called she roll of the warrior worlds. 'Yes, and Kalgan, too! There is not enough wealth in the Universe to satiate Torana and the Great Throne! And the Court laughs at our complaints! At us! The star-queens who are the fists of the Empire! How long will we endure it? How long will we maintain Torana on a throne that she is too weak to hold?'
Torana, thought Kiera grimly, always Torana. lever a word of Ivane or Landora or the favorites who twisted Torana around their fingers.
Freka's voice dropped low and she leaned out over the first row of upturned faces. 'I call upon you—as you love your people and your freedom—to join with Kalgan and rid the Empire of this weakling and her money-grubbing and neglect!'
In the crowd, someone stirred. All but this one seemed hypnotized. It was old Erica of Doom who stepped forward.
'You speak treason! You brought us here to discuss grievances, and you preach rebellion and treason, I say!' she shouted angrily.
Freka turned cold eyes on the old warrior.
'If this is treason,' she said ominously, 'it is the Emperor's treason—not ours.'
Erica of Doom seemed to wilt under the icy gaze of those inhuman eyes. Kiera watched her step back into the circle of her followers, fear in her aging face. There was a power in Freka to quell almost any insurrection here, thought the Valkyr uneasily. She, herself, was bound by the promise she had made to Alyn, but it was only that that kept her from casting in her lot with the compelling lord of Kalgan. Such a feeling was unreason itself, she knew, and she fought against it, drawing on her reserves of information to strengthen her resolve to obstruct Freka if she could. Yet it was easy to understand how this strange woman had sprung out of obscurity and made herself mistress of Kalgan. Freka was a creature made for leadership. Kiera stood away from the crowd and forced herself to speak. All her earlier suspicions were growing like a suffocating cloud within her. Someone was being fooled and used, and it was not the lord of Kalgan!
'You, Freka!' she cried, and the lords turned to listen.
'You shout of getting rid of Torana—but what do you offer in her place?'
Freka's eyes were like steel now, glinting dully in the light of the wall-torches.
'Not myself. Is that what you feared?' The fine mouth curled scornfully. 'I ask no woman to lay down her life so that I may take for myself the Great Throne and the sable mantle of Emperor! I renounce here and now any claim to the Imperial Crown! When the time is right, I will make my wishes known.'
The crowd of star-queens murmured approvingly. Freka had won them.
'A vote!' someone cried. 'Those who are with Freka and against Torana! A vote!'
Swords leaped from scabbards and glittered in the torchlight while the chamber rang to a savage cheer. Here was war and loot to satisfy the savage heart! The sack of Imperial Earth himself! Even old Erica of Doom's sword was reluctantly raised. Kiera alone remained silent, sword sheathed.
Freka looked down at her coldly.
'Well, Valkyr? Do you ride with us?'
'I need more time to consider,' said Kiera carefully. Freka's laughter was like a lash. 'Time! Time to worry about risking her skin! Valkyr needs time!'
Kiera felt her quick anger surging. The blood pounded in her temples, throbbing, pulsing, goading her to fight. Her hand closed on the hilt of her sword and it slipped half out of the sheath. But Kiera caught herself. There was something sinister in this deliberate attempt to ruin her—to brand her a coward before her peers. A woman faced two choices here, apparently; follow Freka into rebellion, or be branded craven. Kiera glared into the cold eyes of the Kalgan lord. The temptation to challenge hers was strong—as strong as Kiera's whole background and training in the harsh warrior-code of the Edge. But she could not. Not yet. There were too many irons in the fire to be watched. There was Alyn and his plea to Torana. There was the plight of her people. She could not risk the danger to herself of driving a blade through Freka's throat, no matter how her blood boiled with rage.
She turned on her heel and strode from the Great Hall, the laughter of Freka and the star-queens ringing mockingly in her ears.
IV
Kiera awoke in darkness. Of the fire on the hearth, only embers remained and the stone rooms were silent but for the sound of sleeping women. The single Valkyr sentry was at her elbow, whispering her into wakefulness. Kiera threw back the fur coverlets and swung her feet over the edge of the low couch.
'What is it?' she asked.
'Nevitta, sir.'
'Nevitta! Here?' Kiera sprang to her feet, fully awake now. 'Is there a man with her?'
'A slave-girl, sir. They wait in the outer chamber.' Kiera reached for her harness and weapons, threading her way through her sleeping women. In the dimly lit antechamber, Nevitta stood near the muffled figure of Alyn. Kiera went immediately to the boy, and he threw back his hood, baring his golden head to the torchlight. His eyes were bright with the pleasure of seeing Kiera again, hut there was anger in them, too. The lord of Valkyr knew at once that he had not succeeded with Torana.
'What happened, Nevitta?'
'An attempt was made on the little princess' life, sir.' 'What?' Kiera felt the blood drain from her face.
'As I say, Kiera.' The old Valkyr's face was grim.
'We had to fight our way out of the Palace.'
'I never had a cha
nce to speak to Torana,' the boy said sombrely. 'It was all that could be done to reach the spaceship. Even the. Janizaries tried to stop us. Two of your women died for me, Kiera.'
'Who did this thing?' asked Kiera ominously.
'The women who attacked the princess' quarters,' said Nevitta deliberately, 'wore the harness of Kalgan.'
That hit Kiera like a physical blow ... hard. 'Kalgan! And you brought his here? You fool, Nevitta!'
The old Valkyr nodded agreement. 'Yes, Kiera. Fool is the proper word ...'
'No!' Alyn spoke up imperiously. 'It was my command that brought us here. I insisted.'
'By the Seven Hells! Why?' demanded Kiera. 'Why here? You could have been safe on Valkyr! I know it was my order to bring you here, but after what happened . . .'
'The prince would not hear of seeking safety, Kiera,' said Nevitta. 'When Kalgan proved its treachery by trying to assassinate him, he could think only of your danger here ... unwarned. He would risk his life to bring you this news, Kiera.'
Kiera turned to face the boy. He looked up at her, eyes bright, lips parted.
'What could make a prince risk his life . . .' Kiera began numbly.
'Kiera . . .' The boy breathed her name softly. 'I was so afraid for you.'
The Valkyr reached slowly for the clasp of his cloak and unfastened it. The heavy mantle dropped unnoticed to the flagstones. Alyn stood, swaying slightly, parted lips inviting. Kiera watched the