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At Earl Kestrel s command, Firekeeper dropped her hand to her waist. There,
rather than the more usual girdle of flowers and ribbons, she wore a brown
leather belt, much stained from the weather.
 My knife, she said, drawing the weapon and holding it so that Prince
Barden s crest and the smooth garnet in the hilt were clearly visible.
 Mine!
The emphasis was clear, even without the growl that trailed the announcement.
One of King Tedric s shaggy eyebrows flew upward in astonishment. The queen
gasped. Earl Kestrel colored a fiery red.
Embarrassment or anger
? Derian wondered.
King Tedric recovered first.  Yours, then. I only wish to see it more
closely.
The words barely were past his lips before Firekeeper, despite the encumbering
skirts, had flown up the steps to stand at his side. The knife she held inches
from his face could have as easily vanished between his ribs, but the king
neither started nor paled. Waiting below, Blind Seer thumped his tail briefly
in what
Derian could swear was muted applause.
The king examined the knife with all due consideration.
 It could be Barden s, he said at last.  It bears his crest and I seem to
recall some such blade.
Queen Elexa recovered from her shock and now she, too, examined the knife.  I
have seen this before. It was given to Barden by Lovella on his wedding day.
She showed it to me beforehand, pleased by its craftsmanship. This one is just
its like.
 A knife can be imitated, the king said cautiously.
 Perhaps, Elexa agreed, a faint smile on her lips,  but the knife Lovella
showed me possessed a secret. I
doubt that any who sought to imitate the weapon merely from its external
appearance could have known of it.
 Can you show us what this secret is? the king asked, interested yet
impatient.
 If the girl will let me touch the knife, the queen said, moving a fragile
hand slightly.
Firekeeper had been listening, her head cocked to one side, struggling with
words and language patterns unfamiliar to her. From the expression on her
face, Derian knew that she was growing confused and when she was confused, her
temper grew unpredictable.
 Lady Blysse, he called, without waiting for permission,  the queen doesn t
want your knife. She simply wants to touch it. Let her.
 Touch? Firekeeper said, the hoarseness of an almost growl in her throat.
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 Touch, Derian assured her. Shrugging slightly, for he had already committed
one social misstep, he addressed the queen directly.  Your Majesty, if you
would move slowly, so as not to alarm her.
Accustomed to always being accorded social graces, the queen was less offended
by their violation in a good cause than someone of lesser standing might be.
Giving Blysse a reassuring smile, she reached out delicately with thumb and
forefinger and grasped the garnet set into the pommel.
 Firekeeper, Derian said warningly when his charge stiffened,  hold still.
She did, to his infinite relief. When the queen had difficulty, she even
steadied the hilt of the knife so that the queen could twist more strongly.
 There! the queen said, pleased. Then, directly to the young woman standing
before her,  Dear, my hands are not as strong as they once were. If you would
grab the stone as I did and twist hard.
Derian doubted that Firekeeper understood all the words, but the queen s
gestures were eloquent.
Firekeeper obeyed. A firm turn or so and the garnet began to loosen.
Derian had shown the girl how to pull out corks, but a threaded cap was
something new and frustrated her momentarily. However, at the queen s urging
Firekeeper continued to twist. At last, with a small grating of sand caught in
infrequently used grooves, the stone came free, revealing a small compartment
in the hilt.
 Not so very large, the queen said complacently, examining the hollow spot,
 but large enough to bear a message or some small item. Lovella was quite
delighted with it.
 Then without a doubt, this is Barden s knife, King Tedric s gaze was shrewd.
 And there is less a doubt that this is Barden s daughter.
Fascinated, Derian watched the king s eyes narrow in an expression far too
like Earl Kestrel s for him to doubt the type of thoughts the ruler was
entertaining. Norvin Norwood had been right. King Tedric had not at all liked
being subject to the manipulations of his siblings and their young kin.
The possible existence of a granddaughter gave the king an upper hand once
again. The king smiled, but it was not precisely a kind smile.
 Norvin, bring your ward& 
Not  my granddaughter
, Derian noted to himself.
He s not ready to grant quite that much, not yet.
He wants Earl Kestrel to remember who is in charge
.
 And join my family at table tonight. They have all heard rumors of your
travels. It is time that they learn just what you have brought home.
The banquet hall into which they were escorted some hours later was not the
largest room Derian had ever seen. The Guildhall of the Combined Crafts
(tanners, leatherworkers, harness and saddlemakers) in the city below was
larger. Nor was the banquet hall the grandest room he had seen. The inner
chamber where the grandmasters of the smiths held their secret conclaves was
grander, its beams gleaming with gilding and sparkling from the tiny silver
stars that depended from invisible threads.
This hall, though, surpassed both for mere magnificence. The stone floor was
polished to such a shine that the torches in the wall sconces and the candles
on the tables seemed to burn twice: once in flame, once in reflection.
Referring to the ivory-white marble walls as bare would be an insult, for
though they were free from tapestry or curtain, the marble itself was so
beautifully carved as to disdain further ornamentation.
In the center of the hall were four long tables set in a modified fan, all of
their ends meeting near a head table. The flaring backs of the throne-like
chairs set at the center of this head table left no doubt that the king and
queen would be seated where they could command the attention of those
dispersed along the fan. Derian wondered where Fire-keeper and Earl Kestrel
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would be placed.
The chief steward was a solid, silvery woman who shared some of Valet s
immunity to excitement. As she addressed Earl Kestrel, her voice rang in the
nearly empty room like a herald s trumpet.
 The king commands that you and your ward be seated at the head table. The
ward is to be at the king s right, you to her right. Your party will be
granted a few moments to orient yourselves before the family will join you.
Derian was grateful for those moments. Thus far Firekeeper had been on her
best behavior, but there was a trembling tension about her that made him glad
that she would have time to scout out the room before it was filled with
strangers.
He watched her as she flitted about from point to point, touching the friezes
on the wall, fingering the woven linen tablecloths, peeking under the tables
as if uncertain what might lurk in their shadow. Blind
Seer trotted beside her, more tense, less curious. Derian feared that the wolf
might have reached his limit regarding new things and simply strike out at
anything that came near.
Clearly the two members of the King s Own who had remained with them shared
his concern. Each stood straight with his back against the wall, knuckles
white around his halberd shaft. If they found
Firekeeper s behavior amusing, no trace of mirth showed on their impassive
countenances.
Derian ignored them, turning instead to Valet, who, along with Derian, made up
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