The Element of Truth

CHAPTER ONE: The Enchanted Gem

    
    Vivianne the Fire-Haired -- firstborn daughter of King Tetys and Queen Isabo, Princess Royal of the Tityrian Dynasty, Pearl of Moranda, and bearer of a score of other honorific titles -- allowed herself to sink more deeply into her perfumed bath water. Despite the herbal potion she had quaffed liberally before disrobing, her head persisted in pounding excruciatingly.
 
    "Sing louder, Miry," she ordered. "I cannot abide the sound of Mother's screeching another moment!"
 
    Miryabbel, who was usually noted for the even temper that is so essential to servants of royalty, let her lute clang onto the marble bench on which she was sitting. "If I sing any louder," she snapped, "I will be screeching, too!"
 
    Viv and Miry had known each other from the cradle. The unprecedented tension that had reigned between them for the last ten days was a jagged knife-blade in both their hearts. Miry had tried to broach the subject several times, more than ready to concede that she was grossly at fault in saying that the proposed bridal hair style caused Viv's face to look like a flattened squash (though she could hardly be blamed for offering her honest opinion when it was so earnestly solicited). Each time, she had been coldly rebuffed. Not only that, but Her Highness deemed her life-long companion unworthy to attend the wife of the crown prince of Skarresk. Miry had it on good authority that one of the royal guardsmen had overheard Vivianne saying that she could not abide Miry's familiar ways, and meant to leave her behind to serve her younger sister.
    The root of the evil was the wedding, of course, set by the mages of Skarresk to take place on the morn of Midsummer Day, even though Vivianne's three brothers were too far afield to return in time for the festivities.
 
  Any maiden was bound to become waspish as her nuptials approached. Particularly when she had never met the groom, and could only hope that he was not unbearably repulsive. Even more so when the proposed union was of such extreme diplomatic importance that the very survival of the Tityrian dynasty might hinge upon it. The kingdom of Skarresk had swollen to three times the size of Moranda, and the good will of King Beltauron was essential to any land within reach of his military hordes.
 
    The tempers of all concerned were already dangerously frayed when the unthinkable happened. 
 
    That very morning, on the third day before the wedding (by inclusive reckoning, as tradition prescribed), the queen had solemnly unlocked the sixteen fastenings of the ornate coffer that concealed the Touchstone of Truth, that the jewel might be displayed in the cathedral until the appointed hour for the ceremony. The coffer was empty. 
 
    Without the Touchstone, that most sacred gem of Moranda, the royal wedding could not be solemnized. The Great Nuptial Oath, pronounced with the Touchstone in hand, was indispensable. Such was the Sacred Decree of the fabled monarch Bertrand the Wise, whose every recorded word had the force of Holy Scripture.
 
    Yet another piercing scream floated into the bath chamber, echoed by a moan from Princess Vivianne. Miryabbel felt her face flush. She knew her skin was blotching, a certain sign of uncontrolled emotions battling within her. She drew a deep, calming breath before she spoke with soothing logic.
 
    "You must remember that Her Majesty has dreamed of this moment since you were born, and has been embroiled in the preparations for months. Everything is precisely calculated to be ready the day after tomorrow, no later. The ice for the fruit sculptures has already arrived, as have the master bakers and cooks from Gallina. If the wedding is postponed by even a few hours, her great feast will be ruined."
 
    "All this commotion over a simple meal!" Vivianne said. "Wedding or no wedding, we must eat. There is no reason why we cannot have the banquet when it is ready, and the ceremony later."
 
    "This meal is anything but simple," Miry said. "It is a culinary masterpiece, meant to astonish all and sundry with its magnificence. Your mother wishes everything to be perfect. It isn't every day that her first-born child leaves home for a far-away land." Miryabbel was watching Vivianne's face carefully. Clearly, the princess was much less disturbed by the delay than her mother was.
 
    A gong sounded. Vivianne bit her lip in vexation. It was the high-pitched note of her personal signal, signifying that her presence was required in an official capacity.
 
    "See what it is," she ordered, "and tell them that I am indisposed and cannot come."
 
    Miryabbel trotted off, her diaphanous orange gown floating behind her. Vivianne watched her with a twinge of jealousy. The two women were only a month apart in age and roughly the same height, but Miry had the lush curves of a mature woman, while Viv's body was still reminiscent of a boy's. She would gladly have traded her own reddish-golden locks and freckled skin for Miry's wondrous raven-black curls and faultless complexion -- except for the blotches, of course. It would be a great disadvantage to be afflicted by nervous blotches. A princess could not afford to betray her emotions in public.
 
    Vivianne had only a few moments of solitude in which contemplate the feasibility of putting an end to her misery by drowning herself in the bath water. Miry returned promptly, bearing an official parchment covered with seals.
 
    "A messenger has arrived from the Kingdom of Skarresk. There is a great diplomatic pouch for His Majesty your father, and a love note for you from your intended."
 
    "And what does Prince Scaurion have to say?" Vivianne asked with mild interest. This was the first time her fiancé had seen fit to send her a message of any kind. At least it was not in some horrid foreign language. The two kingdoms had sprung from common roots, and shared the same tongue. The ambassadors of King Beltauron spoke with a lisping accent, and sometimes used words that were unfamiliar to Vivianne, but all in all, their speech not difficult to comprehend.
 
    "To Vivianne, Esteemed Princess Royal of the House of Tityria, greetings and good will," Miry read out loud. "It is with greatest joy that I anticipate the joining of our royal houses by the sacred bonds of -"
 
    "Omit the formalities," Vivianne interrupted. "Just tell me what he wants."
 
    Miry scanned the message. "He is telling you firmly that a postponement is unthinkable. He urges you to prevail upon your father to proceed with 
the ceremony, and to that end, he will be arriving tomorrow. Any delay will be construed as a breach of faith and a dishonour to the people of Skarresk. Such an affront would compel King Beltauron to repudiate any and all treaties with Moranda, and seek allies elsewhere."
 
    "He is threatening us with war?" Vivianne's voice rose.
 
    "'Tis most elegantly stated, but that is the gist of it."
 
    "The swine!" Vivianne muttered. "Why even bother with this farce of a marriage? He could overrun Moranda in less time than it will take to consume the wedding banquet!"
 
    "It may be that he wishes to see our fabled garden statues intact, not damaged by fighting," Miry said.
 
     Vivianne brooded silently while Miry helped her out of the tub, dried her, and wrapped her in her favourite bathrobe.
 
    "Find Scribe Argot," the princess commanded. "Instruct him to compose a florid reply assuring Scaurion of my love and loyalty, and my eagerness to be joined to my new lord; assure him that I will do everything in my power --"
 
    "Your mother has pressed Argot into service copying recipes in the kitchen library. In any case, Scaurion will be on our door step before a message can be delivered."
 
    Vivianne clenched her fist, then let it fall in limp resignation. "So be it. I will lie down on the terrace until it is time to dress for dinner. You may busy yourself tidying my chamber and mixing those perfumed ointments I requested." Shoulders slumped, she trudged out of the bath chamber. Miry followed with her armload of oils, sponges, brushes and towels, her heart aching for her mistress.
 
    Vivianne's mood was not in the least improved when she dragged herself back to her chamber two hours later. The queen had stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, espied her daughter, and availed herself of the opportunity to discuss the impending disaster in meticulous detail. Vivianne had made the mistake of mentioning her headache. The queen had insisted on an immediate consultation with a physician lately arrived from Persia. This learned personage had lectured them solemnly and at length, but had offered no relief, saying that marriage usually cured such difficulties in young females. By the time he finished his pedantic exposition, the evening meal was only an hour away, and Vivianne felt no better. She dreaded struggling into the corsets formal attire demanded. King Tetys was not given to excusing anyone from the daily formal dinner, and all were expected to look their best.
 
    "Quick, the blue gown," she called to Miry, who was sitting idly on her bed. Vivianne wore the blue often, because it was the easiest to put on.
 
    Miry did not answer. She was staring ahead blankly, her hands clenched in her lap, tears welling from her eyes. The blotches were more prominent than ever.
 
    Vivianne forgot her head-ache, the corsets, and the ten-day feud. She had never seen Miry weep. The cause must be grave indeed. The death of cherished kinfolk, perhaps. Or, worse yet -- could it be that some strumpet had captured Guardsman Helix' heart?
 
    "Miry, what's the matter?" Vivianne asked tenderly, sitting down beside her.
 
    Miry turned accusing eyes towards her. "Why didn't you tell me?"
 
    "What? Tell you what?"
 
    Miry opened her hand. In it nestled an indigo gem the size of a pigeon's egg, its facets glowing sometimes blue, sometimes violet. Only the most ignorant would fail to recognize this as the Touchstone of Truth, the sacred jewel of Moranda.  
 
    "I was looking for the kohl sticks your mother had sent from Egypt," Miry gasped between sobs. "I thought they might be in your green velvet bag. And this is what I found!"
 
    "It is not what you think," Vivianne said.
 
    Miry did not seem to hear. "Do you remember," she demanded, "how we used to lie together in bed and whisper secrets? We swore to be sisters forever and ever, and never withhold anything from each other? And now you have done this, and not a word for me! What have I ever done to betray your trust?"
 
    Vivianne tried to put her arm around Miryabbel, but she pulled away. Vivianne's tears began to flow as well.
 
    "Please! Hear me out!" she pleaded.
 
    Gently, she took the Touchstone form Miry's hand and held it in her palm. "I swear that my heart is free of any love save for the one who stands beside me here," she intoned the ancient nuptial oath. "Of my own free will I pledge myself to him forever, for our mutual delight, comfort and sustenance in this life and the next." She paused, then added, "And my grandfather is a crocodile, and my hair is blue."
 
    Miryabbel was sufficiently amazed to stop crying. "The stone did not burn you! How did you come by this? It is a twin of the real one."
 
    "I found it under my pillow the morning after the last New Moon celebration."

    "Indeed! And who would do such a thing, I wonder?"
 
    "Someone who knows how urgent it is for me to marry Prince Scaurion. If I do not, Beltauron will surely destroy our kingdom and everyone in it."
 
    Miry nodded. She had spent many hours agonizing over the explosive political situation. "So this person hoped that you would find a way to exchange this stone for the real one. A desperate plan, and yet, it may well save Moranda from ruin. But why --" the tears started to flow again, "why did you not breathe a word of all this to me?"   
 
    "Forgive me," Vivianne said. "It was to protect you. I thought it safest if I never let anyone know that I had exchanged the stones. Tampering with the Touchstone is a matter of high treason, you know. The slightest slip of the tongue could cost us both our lives. You cannot betray what you do not know."
 
    "We are still sisters, then?"
 
    "Forever and ever."
 
    "Then why did you tell the queen you planned to leave me behind?"
 
    "Oh, Miry!" Vivianne exclaimed, "cursed be those wagging tongues! I was going to tell you all, truly I was, but I didn't want to make matters worse." She took Miry's hand. "I have informed myself about the kingdom of Skarresk, and it is not a fitting place for anyone live. They keep their women in a place by themselves under heavy guard, and never allow them to leave. Highly-placed men of the court may take the women of lesser citizens, and use them as they see fit." Vivianne looked deep into Miry's eyes. "What if I could not protect you? It is better for you to remain here, where you will be safe."
 
    Miry's eyes were round. "There is no fidelity in Beltauron's kingdom?"
 
    "There is of a sort -- but only for women. The men are free to take as many wives as they like."
 
    "Those long-haired barbarians! How could your father agree to such a thing?"
 
    "He has no choice if he wishes to save our land from destruction. But his heart is not easy about it. Perhaps he is the one who hid the Touchstone as a pretext to prevent the union."
 
    "The king? A common thief?"
 
    "A most uncommon one, I would say. Mother carries the keys to the sixteen fastenings on her body at all times, and surrenders them to no one, save the Supreme Justice when the High Court of Judgement is in session. Who else but Father would have the opportunity to lay hands on them?"
 
    "There must be another explanation! Besides, there was no need for your father to steal the stone. The Touchstone itself will protect you. Scaurion must take the vow first. He has never met you -- how can his heart hold the overweening love the oath requires? The Stone will burn him, and the wedding will be cancelled."
 
    "And the prince's humiliation will be so complete that Beltauron will grind us all to dust. I have thought of this night after night. There is no choice: I must find a way to marry Scaurion."
 
    "Then I will come to Skarresk with you," Miry said resolutely. "You will need a friend by your side."
 
    "What? And leave Helix? I thought you loved him more than anything on earth!"
 
    "Oh -- he talks of love, but do you see a Bond of Promise on my ankle?" She stretched out her shapely foot.
 
    Her mistress followed suit, revealing an elaborate jewelled bracelet on her left ankle. Its mate, the Bond of Fidelity, would be fastened on her right ankle by the groom during the wedding ceremony.
 
    "I would gladly give you mine, Miry. Perhaps you could wed the prince in my place."
 
    Miry giggled at the thought, then shook her head. "I will accept the Bond of Fidelity from one man only, and that man is Helix, whether he appreciates it or not."
 
    "I have seen him looking at you! I am sure he loves you with all his heart." 
 
    "I am not so sure," Miry said. "It is as my mother told me. Men speak with honeyed lips until they have breached a woman's sacred cave, and then they have no interest at all."
 
    "Has Helix breached your sacred cave?"
 
    Miry's blotches turned fiery red. 
 
    "So it seems that I am not the only one to have secrets," Vivianne said. She took Miry's shoulders. "Go to Helix, and force him to decide. If he will not take you as his wife, then come with me. If yes, then remain here with him and be happy. I shall do my best to have him assigned to extensive diplomatic missions in Skarresk, so that you may ease my loneliness."
 
    Miryabbel silently helped her mistress dress. "Do you really believe he will choose to marry me?" she asked at last, as she stood brushing Vivianne's fiery hair.
 
    "Go and ask. "You have nothing to lose."
 
    Miryabbel brightened. "Then, with your permission, I will go right now, before I lose my courage. He is just finishing his shift on the North wall."
 
    "Go," Vivianne said. "I can paint my own face for once."
 
    The princess hummed as she pinned her hair into a semblance of order and applied powder thickly to hide her tear stains. Despite the future challenges that faced her, she felt more at ease than she had for some days. She and Miry were friends again.
 
     She was dusting rouge on her cheeks when Miryabbel returned, swaying unsteadily, her face deathly white. Vivianne rushed to her side.
 
    "What happened?"

    Miry collapsed in her arms. "Oh, Viv -- Helix is in the dungeon! They say he stole the Touchstone!"
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER TWO: Mysterious Encounter
 
    "I still think I should be the one to do this," Vivanne said, looking dubiously at the gem on her palm. She had excused herself before the after-dinner entertainment began, and rushed back to her chamber to tend her grieving friend.
 
    "No!" Miry said, pale but resolute. "I must see this through. Helix is my love, and mine to save." 
 
    Miry had rallied magnificently, devising a plan which she meant to carry out immediately. If the Touchstone -- or its false twin -- were to reappear during the night, then Helix could be exonerated at the Court of Judgement in the morning. 
 
    "I'll be powerless to help you if you are caught," Viv warned.
 
    "But who will be watching, now that the Touchstone is stolen? The case is open and unguarded. It will take only a minute to drop the false stone into it, and be on my way. Then, tomorrow, when the royal court gathers, you can oh-so-casually walk by, look in, and cry out the good news that the Touchstone has rematerialized."
 
    Vivianne shook her head. "Father has doubled the guard, and they are restless and watchful. Perhaps later..."
 
    "We cannot wait! It must be done tonight. If they do not have the Touchstone to test Helix, they will torture him."
 
    Vivianne nodded resignedly and handed over the spurious stone. There was no arguing with Miry once her mind was made up. "Very well. I will stay here and pray to all the gods and goddesses to keep you safe."
 
    "No! You must be where folk can see you, lest suspicion fall on you later."
 
"Why should anyone suspect me?" Vivianne asked. "Besides, there is no crime in bringing the Touchstone back." Miry put her hands on her hips, ready to launch into a lecture. 
 
    "All right, all right," Vivianne said. "There are still some three hours of daylight remaining. I will go for a ride. Perhaps that will clear my head."
 
    "Good! All the watchmen will see you leave. When you return at dusk, the deed will be done."
 
    "And then," Vivanne said, "we will warm ourselves with mulled wine and laugh at our fears."
 
    They embraced, trembling.
 
    The clouds were already tinged with pink when the princess put her pearly white mare into a gallop towards the royal forest. She had donned the suede leather garb of a huntsman, and pulled her hair together in a single braid down her back. She would not be likely to attract any particular attention, were it not for the fine bloodlines of her mount and the body guards trailing in her wake, lashing their nags in a futile attempt to keep up.
 
    Her guards considered it a sacred trust to keep as close by as possible whenever she was outside the fortress walls; but their horses were not of the same calibre as Moonbeam. Both father and mother had lectured her about keeping her protectors in sight, but she loved to be alone among the trees, listening to bird songs and the scurryings of squirrels. Her guards would talk and blunder about, frightening away everything within earshot. Vivianne knew the forest sufficiently well to elude her keepers for a short while, and she intended to make use of her knowledge to win herself some precious privacy. On this night of nights, she needed to be alone.
 
    An hour later, she was deep in the forest, at the foot of a small waterfall. It would be some time before her guards found the faint game trail she had taken to her favourite secret spot. Vivianne removed Moonbeam's bridle, hooked it to the saddle, and let her graze where she wished, knowing that she would come instantly at her whistle.    
 
    It was a stiff climb up the escarpment to the head of the waterfall, but Vivianne relished the exercise. By the time she had arrived at the quiet pool from which the torrent flowed, her headache had completely disappeared.
 
    She sat on the soft moss with her back against the sump of a fallen tree, allowing the peace of the place to soak into her spirit. She wondered idly whether there were such forests in Skarresk. Even if there were, it was unlikely that they would allow their cloistered women to explore them.
 
    She wondered if Moonbeam would miss her. Riding was forbidden to the women of Skarresk. When it was absolutely necessary to travel, they were transported in closed litters and carriages, with small ventilation holes instead of windows.
 
    This was her last ride; her last time alone outdoors. No matter: she would enjoy it all the more, appreciating each leaf, each flower, each movement in Nature's wondrous dance.
 
    Her eyes grew heavy with the peace of the place. Before she realized how exhausted she was, her body slipped into slumber.
 
    "Now I have you, my sweet!"
 
    She woke with a start. Two hands were fastened around her chest, and eager lips were caressing her ear.
 
    She twisted aside and leaped to her feet, whistling for Moonbeam. She realized, too late, that there was no way for the mare to climb the escarpment, and there was no quick way down other a deadly fall. 
 
    Vivianne's hand clutched at the skinning knife at her belt. If only she had learned more of the arts of war!
 
    This time, however, there was no need for self-defence. Her assailant appeared as astonished as she was.
 
    "Pardon, my lady. I mistook you for another. It is twilight, and the hair colour is very like ..."

    He spoke formally, with a sibilant accent. Now that she felt less threatened, she found much to like in his face and manner. He was not much older than she, with a wealth of rich brown shoulder-length curls framing his tanned, fine-featured face. The elaborate cut of his clothing and the length of his locks identified him as a noble citizen of Skarresk. If they had met under different circumstances, she might have found the encounter pleasant: but this intrusion on her tranquillity was unforgivable.   
 
    "Who are you?" she demanded haughtily. "And what is your business? This is a private forest, you know!"
 
    "Pardon," he said again. "I was seeking solitude..."
 
    "Solitude?" she repeated. "And yet you spoke of another..." Her eyes swept in an arc and caught a movement in the bushes. "You, there," she called imperiously, pointing. "Come out and show yourself."
 
    There was no response. Vivianne glared at the man. He hesitated, shrugged, then called, "Come!"
 
    A slender figure in suede edged out of the greenery and scurried to the man's side. It was easy to see why there had been a case of mistaken identity: the boy was of the same height and build as Vivianne, and his hair, which hung down his back in a braid, was the same bright reddish-gold as hers.
 
    "You sport with boys, then?" Vivianne said contemptuously. "I did not know the men of Tarresk did such things! Perhaps if you kept your boys' hair close-cropped, as our people do, you would be able to distinguish men from women!"
 
    "And if the women of Moranda were not in the habit of riding about unescorted in men's clothes, they might learn finer manners than yours!"
 
    They faced each other, eyes flashing, while the boy cowered and pulled back. Suddenly, Vivianne burst into laughter.
 
    "No matter. We will go our separate ways, and keep our secrets. Are you a wedding guest, perchance?"
 
    "Yes." He pulled the boy forward gently. "This is my servant. We were playing a game."
 
    Vivianne glanced at him sharply, but did not challenge his statement.
 
    A whinny from below informed Vivianne that Moonbeam was waiting. Answering neighs sounded behind the bushes, betraying the presence of horses. 
 
    "You found the trail, I see," Vivianne said. "Are you travelling with the bridegroom's party?"
 
    "Indeed. He is camped about an hour from here."
 
    "You had better hurry then. It is no laughing matter to be caught on the face of the escarpment in the dark."
 
    "Your Highness! Princess Vivianne!" The shouting of the body guards was very close.
 
    The man's eyes narrowed. He withdrew swiftly, holding the boy's hand.
 
    Vivianne scrambled down the escarpment without bothering to watch the stranger's departure. Her guards were waiting anxiously beside Moonbeam, and cried out in relief when they saw her safe and sound. The older of them stared at her reproachfully as she mounted. It was not his place to reprimand her, but both knew full well that his life was forfeit if any harm came to her.
 
    She felt a twinge of guilt. It was not an easy task to be a servant, to have no power save to take the blame for everything that went wrong. The younger had only recently been assigned to her, but the older of the two had followed her faithfully on every sortie for over sixteen years.
 
    "I am sorry to frighten you," she said gently. "And I thank you for your devotion. You have served me well."
 
    "Aye, Your Highness," the older one said, wiping his eyes. "I, for one, will miss you. It seems just yesterday that you were a sprig playing in the courtyard, with your hair like fire in the sunlight."
 
    "Let us go side by side, and talk as we ride," Vivianne said, wishing that she could recall the names of her guardians. "This may well be our last time together."
 
    "As you wish, Your Highness."
 
    They trotted companionably through the dusk, one man on each side of her. After a few minutes, the men warmed to the conversation, and seemed to forget that she was not their equal. Inevitably, talk turned to the missing Touchstone.
 
    "One thing I know as sure as my own life," the older one proclaimed, "the thief is not Helix. Why, he is so honest and open he would put the angels to shame."
 
    "No?" the other asked. "You be so sure, Albryght? He would not steal, even if the king ordered it?"
 
    "Not even for the king," Albryght answered stoutly. "He knows right from wrong, that boy, and he will die for it -- more than I can say for you."
 
    "And why would the king order the Touchstone stolen?" Vivianne asked.
 
    "If you will pardon me for saying so, Your Highness -- he has much to gain by its absence," the younger guard said.
 
    "Indeed? How so?" she asked innocently.
 
    "If the Touchstone has the power men say it has, Your Highness, the wedding cannot be. How could you love that pompous popinjay?"
 
     Albryght gave a short bark of laughter. "Aye, Kevven -- that's the right name for him -- a pompous popinjay!"
 
    "I, for one," said Viviane, "do not intend to judge him until I have made his acquaintance."
 
    "We heard all about him," Kevven said eagerly, "from the outriders of the diplomatic parties. They say he struts about in a coat covered with diamonds, and a hat made of peacock feathers."
 
    "We cannot condemn the ways of other nations out of hand," Vivianne said, moved to defend her future spouse. "I am sure he will find us equally strange."
 
    "Be that as it may," Albryght said, "when he arrives tomorrow, you will have less than a day to learn each other's ways. A single day is not enough to forge the love the nuptial oath requires. The Touchstone will burn you both."
 
    "And yet, we cannot marry without it."
 
    They rode in silence, preoccupied with the conundrum.
 
    "I still say the thief was that trader who came through last week," Kevven said at last. "He had shifty eyes. I'll wager he was Beltauron's spy."
 
    "But we had High Court only four days ago," Albryght protested, "and the Touchstone was there for all to see!"
 
    "Mayhap he hid himself in the secret passages of the palace, and found a way to drug the water jar in the throne room. Then, while Helix slept, the scoundrel crept out and picked the lock . . ." Kevven surmised enthusiastically, carried away with the romance of it all.
 
    "Sixteen locks!" Albryght interrupted, "sixteen locks, all cunningly made. No thief on earth could pick 'em all in a single night."
 
    "It could have been done by magic."
 
    Vivianne found the conversation so entertaining that it seemed only a few minutes until they faced the great walls of the castle. The doors had been closed for the night, and torches blazed on the ramparts.
 
    "Ho!" Albryght shouted. "Open for Princess Vivianne!"
 
    After much shouting and grating of bolts, the massive gates were laboriously pushed open by six guardsmen.

    "Ye be lucky to be with royalty," one of the men panted, "or ye would have to use the small door and leave your horses out 'til morning!"
 
    "We are favoured indeed," Albryght said. "What news since we departed?"
 
    "Great news! The Touchstone has been recovered! The thief is not Helix after all, but a servant wench -- the princess' maid, Miryabbel!"  
 
 
 
CHAPTER THREE: The High Court of Judgement
 
    "Proceed, proceed!" King Tetys ordered testily. "We must have this matter out of the way before Prince Scaurion arrives!"
 
    He had ordered the nine justices of the High Court of Judgement rousted out of bed at dawn. These august personages were seated at their places at the long oaken table at one end of the cavernous room, unbreakfasted and their clothes hastily thrown on. The king, queen and Vivianne sat on ornate chairs along one wall. Thrones were not used in the Hall of Judgement: even the king was a simple citizen as far as the Divine Code of Law was concerned. 
 
     A goodly number of lesser members of the royal household had caught wind of the extraordinary session of the High Court and had crowded through the great double doors to stand wherever they could, keeping the royal guardsmen occupied pushing them back to make room for the prisoners.
 
    The coffer containing the Touchstone had just been transported from the throne room in hallowed silence, followed by Helix and Miryabbel, chained and heavily guarded. Chief High Justice Broxx had scarcely launched into his long-winded exposition of the charges when the king's impatience exploded.
 
    "Surely Your Majesty recognizes that all must be done with order and decency," Broxx replied with no trace of intimidation. He was a harshly upright man, steel with little velvet upon it, utterly devoted to his role as guardian of the law and all things thereonto appertaining. The responsibility was heavy: not even the king had the power to veto a unanimous decision by the judges of the High Court.
 
    Despite her vital interest in the proceedings, Vivianne yawned.   She had not slept at all. Solon, the youngest of the High Court judges, yawned as well, not once but four times. Vivianne caught his eye and smiled.  
 
    "Open the chest and proceed with the Judgement!" the king commanded, interrupting Broxx yet again. Broxx bowed stiffly, procured the keys to the sixteen fastenings from the queen, and proceeded to unlock the coffer with maddening slowness.
 
    The examination was simple and straight-forward. Each accused, holding the Touchstone in hand, was required to answer three questions from each judge. If an untruth was spoken, the stone would flash with a white light, becoming hot enough to inflict serious burns. After the questioning was completed, the Vessel of Judgement, a heavy iron chalice standing at the centre of the table, would be unveiled and passed from judge to judge. Each judge would place a pebble in it: white for acquittal; black for condemnation. The pebbles would be spilled out onto the table for all to see. In case of a verdict of guilty, the Chief High Justice would pronounce the sentence dictated by the Divine Code of Law, to be carried out promptly, before the sun had risen a third time.
 
    Helix answered each question forthrightly, as a soldier speaks. Even if Vivianne had not known the truth of the matter, she would have believed every word from his mouth, Touchstone or no Touchstone.
 
    Miryabbel was more evasive. She insisted that the stone had mysteriously appeared in her quarters, and her only intention was to return it to its rightful place; but there was a sense of things unsaid, of information withheld. Vivianne's heart ached at the sight of her loyal-hearted friend, so unaccustomed to deception, pale and trembling in her chains, utterly determined to take her secret to the grave.  Vivianne wondered if she would show equal fortitude under pressure.
 
    The questioning ended. A soldier handed the Touchstone to the Chief High Justice. Instead of returning the gem to its coffer, Broxx paced back and forth, hefting it in his hand, studying it with a heavy frown. The silence in the room thickened like a black mist, until there was no sound save the gentle creaking of boot leather.
 
    King Tetys cleared his throat significantly. All eyes in the room were on the Chief High Justice, waiting for him to call the vote. Broxx ceased his pacing and stood still, deep in thought.
 
    The king cleared his throat again. "The Touchstone has spoken. Call the vote."
 
    Broxx' gaze swept around the room, assessing each person there. "The investigation is not complete," he announced. "All must clear the hall, save the Justices of the High Court, the members of the royal family, and the prisoners."
 
    Tetys' face flushed, and veins stood out on his forehead. After a long moment, he mastered himself and nodded. "Clear the room," he said sullenly, "as our esteemed Chief High Justice has commanded."
 
    Prodded by the guards, the ousted onlookers flooded from of the room, bursting into animated conversation the minute they were safely in the hallway. The king chewed on his lip while the doors were pushed shut by the guards outside.
 
    "Solon -- bolt the doors," Broxx ordered.
 
    Justice Solon looked questioningly at the king.
 
    "Bolt the doors," His Majesty echoed. Without waiting for Solon to finish the task, he fixed Broxx in his most dreadful glare.
 
    "How dare you," the king demanded, "how dare you humiliate me in front of my people? That is high treason. If the law did not forbid it, your head would roll this very day."
 
    "Your Majesty, we must work together," Broxx said calmly, as he was wont to do whenever his authority clashed with the king's. "I have my function, and you have yours."
 
    "Instruct me, then. How does it serve the kingdom to change our laws and traditions? These prisoners must be released!"
 
    "We have not yet voted."
 
    "Then vote! Surely their innocence is obvious to all!"
 
    "The investigation must continue." Braxx held up the Touchstone and intoned, "My name is King Beltauron." 
 
    There was no reaction from the stone.
 
    "The snow is heavy today."
 
    Nothing.
 
    "King Tetys has asses' ears!"
 
    Still nothing.
 
    "As you see," Broxx said, "this is not the true Touchstone, but a forgery."
 
      No one saw fit to break the stunned silence that followed. Vivianne stared at the pendant on Broxx' chest as blankly as she could manage, not daring to look around at the faces of the others.
 
    "The investigation must continue," Broxx repeated. "The prisoners must be tortured."
 
    Vivianne sprang to her feet. "No!"
 
    All eyes swivelled towards her.
 
    "You cannot torture Miry! She . . . she is with child!"
 
    She spoke to Broxx, but she could not resist stealing a glance at Helix. His face, which has remained heroically impassive throughout his ordeal, was now a study in consternation. Had the situation been less critical, Vivianne would have burst out laughing.
 
    Broxx looked carefully at Miryabbel's slender waist. "Your Highness, I see no evidence of a coming child."
 
    Vivanne locked eyes with him then, finding courage in her love for Miry. "Dare you doubt the word of your princess?"
 
    Broxx swooped down upon Miry, fixing her with an icy glare. "What say you? Are you with child?"
 
    Miry managed to meet his eyes for only a moment. "It could be," she muttered, staring at the floor. "I am not certain yet."
 
    "And the happy father would be -- your fellow prisoner?"
 
    Miry hesitated, then straightened. "Yes," she said in a clear, proud voice.
 
    Broxx turned to the king. "As you see, Your Majesty, there is much yet to be learned. It seems that these two are accomplices."
 
    "No!" Helix cried. "She knew nothing of it! I took the stone when I was guarding it, and had another made. I slipped the false stone under her pillow in the hope that she would do exactly as she did."
 
    Miry's eyes filled with tears. Her hands reached towards Helix. "My love --" she cried. "You would perjure yourself to save me!" 
 
    Eyes burning, Helix lurched towards her, dragging his chains. "You must know you are more to me than freedom, or honour, or life itself!"
 
    "Oh my love!" Miry repeated. Despite their chains, they managed to kiss awkwardly, murmuring reassurances.
 
    Solon, who was still standing at the door, wiped away a tear. Vivianne struggled valiantly with the lump in her throat. Only Broxx seemed immune to the emotion of the moment.
 
    "And where is the Touchstone now?" he asked Helix.
 
    "I sold it."

    "You sold it? For a fabulous amount, no doubt. And what have you done with the proceeds?"
 
    "I . . . I had gambling debts to pay."
 
    Broxx turned to King Tetys. "Your majesty, it requires no Touchstone to know this man has interests more pressing than the truth. I would wager that the woman is the guilty one."
 
    "And that shall be determined when the Touchstone is found," the king said. "In the meantime, we have more vital matters to discuss. The wedding . . ."
 
    "Without the Touchstone, the wedding cannot take place." Broxx set his lips in a firm, white line.
 
    The king looked around the room.  "It can if all here are sworn to silence."
 
    "I will not take such an oath," Broxx said.
 
    King Tetys looked away, then back again. "Broxx -- I implore you. King Beltauron presses us hard. If the wedding does not take place, there will be war."
 
    "Then war there must be. The Sacred Code must be upheld."
 
    "Confound it, man! If Beltauron ravages us, no one will be left to uphold your precious code!"
 
    "If that be the will of the gods, we must submit to it."
 
    They were interrupted by three poundings on the door -- one heavy, two light. Solon glanced questioningly at the king.
 
    "It is my captain's knock. Let him in."
 
    Solon undid the bolts, and the doors swung inward. The captain of the guard took two steps into the room, then fell on one knee.
 
    "Pardon, Majesty. Prince Scaurion is at the gate!"
 
    The king stood, automatically straightening his clothes. "We must adjourn." 
    Broxx nodded. "So be it. Captain, have the prisoners returned to the dungeon for further examination."
 
    "I wonder if the prince has breakfasted?" king Tetys asked hopefully.
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER FOUR: Tête-à-Tête
 
    "Esteemed father-to-be," Prince Scaurion protested, "the ceremonial you propose is all very fine, but I would much rather spend the time making the acquaintance of my intended bride."
 
    "As would I," Vivianne added. She was burning with curiosity. Her future husband was none other than the nobleman she had met in the forest the night before.
 
    If King Tetys was disappointed by the request, he hid it well. "As you wish," he said. "I would suggest the rose garden. The queen's ladies can easily observe you from the terrace and still remain well out of earshot."
 
    "Shall we have food sent to you?" Queen Isabo asked, looking sympathetically at her famished daughter.
 
    "At midday, perhaps," Scaurion said before Vivianne could answer. "I have breakfasted well."
 
    "Will your esteemed father be joining us for the banquet tonight?" Tetys asked.
 
    "He sends his regrets. He has pressing matters of state. He will depart from Skarresk this afternoon and arrive here early tomorrow, in time for the nuptial ceremony."
 
    "Does he plan to ride all night?" the queen asked, her brow furrowing. "If the ceremony is delayed, the ices for the feast will be spoiled."
 
    Provided there is a ceremony at all, Vivianne thought darkly. She admired Broxx' integrity, but wished that, this time, it could be a little less unimpeachable. All things could be so easily resolved if he would consent to the use of the false Touchstone at the wedding the next day.
 
    She took Prince Scaurion by the hand and half-dragged him towards the rose garden. "Come, my beloved. Time presses."
 
    "Now there goes an eager bride, if ever I saw one!" Tetys chuckled, and called after her. "Did I not tell you, my sweet, that the prince would be as well-favoured as his portrait?"
 
    "That you are," she said to Scaurion in an undertone. "Not at all like the cold words of your letter to me."
 
    "My father writes my letters. I only sign them."
 
    "So, it seems, we are both victims of his tyranny."
 
    Scaurion sighed. "He has hardened much since Mother died."
 
    She squeezed his hand. Marriage to Scaurion might be less horrible than she had feared.
 
    They seated themselves on a comfortably cushioned oak bench beside one of Moranda's fabled garden statues: Venus and Adonis in a passionate embrace. Vivianne deliberately sat with her back to it. The near presence of this comely prince was inspiring unmaidenly thoughts. If she could not have the man of her choice, this one might do nicely. 
 
    "Have you replaced the Touchstone?" Scaurion asked, breaking into her fantasies.
 
    "What do you know of the Touchstone?" she asked warily.
 
    "Enough to know that it will prevent our becoming man and wife tomorrow," he said. "Father thinks it is a superstitious myth, but my spies have told me of seeing it flash and burn those who try to deceive it."
 
    "So it was you who sent me the stone!" she exclaimed.

    "Indeed it was," Scaurion said. "Has something gone amiss?" 
 
    It took Vivianne only a few moments to spill out the entire story.
 
    "And this Broxx of yours -- he is adamant?" Scaurion asked when she had finished.
 
    "I fear he is."
 
    "Cannot your father have him murdered tonight?"
 
    "Certainly not!" she exclaimed. "That would be an offence against the gods!"
 
    "Are your gods willing to allow your entire nation to perish?"
 
    "Perhaps the Touchstone will be found," she said, not caring to wrestle with the question.
 
    "That would exchange one problem for another. We cannot take the oath. My heart is engaged elsewhere, as is yours."
 
    "Not mine!" she protested. "My heart is as virgin as my body."
 
    He smiled at her knowingly. "I saw how that young judge -- Solon is his name, I believe -- look at you, and how you smiled back."
 
    She put her hands over her face to hide her rising colour. This was something she had never admitted to anyone, not even herself. "You are very presumptuous, my lord."
 
    "Do not trouble yourself. It is a gift I have, to recognize true love when I see it. Your mother and father, for instance -- most folk would be hard pressed to notice, but they are eternally intended for each other."
 
    "And yet they did not make the match," she said. "I wonder how they managed to deceive the stone?"
 
    "Perhaps there was a false one in existence even then."

    She brooded on the disheartening implications of this possibility. Could it be that centuries of royal matches had been based on deception? "Perhaps, in olden times, princes and princesses chose their spouses freely, instead of being auctioned off like cattle."
 
    "And so it should be," Prince Scaurion said. "When I am king, there will be some changes."
 
    "And whom would you marry, if you could?" she asked, thinking of the incident of the boy in the forest.
 
    His face softened. "Her name is Karina. Which brings me to another matter. I need your help."
 
    "How so?"
 
    "Some months ago, I spirited Karina from my father's harem."
 
    "I did not think such a thing possible!"
 
    "It was easy enough. The women are always veiled in the presence of men other than their husband. I found an impoverished courtesan who swore that she had successfully feigned virginity a dozen times. She entered the harem in the guise of a seller of creams and potions, and Karina left in her place. Only the women know the truth of the matter."
 
    "But . . . in the bedchamber . . . does your father not notice something amiss?"
 
    "One woman is like another to Father. He has over two hundred concubines, and Karina is still virgin."
 
    "Your mother was the one he truly loved?" she guessed.
 
    "Indeed. A man can have only one wife in his heart."
 
    "And what can I do to help your case?"
 
    "Karina is a noblewoman of the kingdom of Khardoun, beyond the Sea of Storms. She was captured in a raid and sold into slavery. I will be in your debt forever if you will return her to her parents."

    "Beyond the Sea of Storms! That is a long and perilous journey! And costly, too!"
 
    "Cost is no object," Scaurion assured her. "I carry a king's ransom in jewels in my pouch. Can you find trustworthy men for the task?"
 
    She thought immediately of Albryght. The money would buy him the comfortable retirement he deserved. "I believe so. This Karina -- where is she now?"
 
    "She follows me as my servant."
 
    Comprehension dawned. "Ah -- the boy in the forest!"
 
    "True. But it is a perilous charade."
 
    "And you mean to send her far away and never see her again?" Vivianne asked.
 
    "If she is safe and happy, I am content."

    "And what does she say?"
 
    "She begs to remain with me. I have told her that it cannot be, since I am to be married. She must forget me and find happiness with another."
 
    Vivianne looked closely at his face. "You love her so much that you would sacrifice your very heart for her?"
 
    "I do."
 
    Vivianne sighed. "I suppose I should be offended by that, but I am not. If I must have a husband thrust at me, you are a more honourable one than I ever hoped for."
 
    He took her hand and kissed it. "You will help us, then?"
 
    "I will do my best to arrange for her departure tomorrow, before . . . before . . . our future is most uncertain, you know."
 
    "Thank you," Scaurion said. "Karina will come to your chambers tonight with the jewels."
 
    They strolled along the garden paths together, discussing their respective kingdoms and the mystery of the Touchstone. As the shadows lengthened, both of them grew increasingly restive.   
 
    "I must speak to my mother before I bathe and dress for the banquet," Vivianne said. "I will tell her that you are fatigued from the journey and have retired to rest. That should buy you some private time with your . . . boy servant."
 
    The prince kissed her cheek. "Thank you. Whatever happens, I will always think of you as a beloved sister."
 
    When Vivianne arrived at her mother's quarters, the queen was asleep. The princess shooed the maids out of the bedchamber and closed the door firmly. She paused a moment, gathering her courage, then shook Isabo into wakefulness.
 
    "Mother, this comedy has continued long enough. Surrender the Touchstone at once! Then, at least, Helix and Miry can go free."
 
    The queen sat up with a start. "What do you mean, barging in here like this and disturbing my rest? After all the labour I have undergone preparing the banquet --"
 
    "Surrender the Touchstone!"
 
    "The Touchstone? I know nothing of the Touchstone." Isabo wound a small lock of hair around her index finger, a sure sign that she was lying.
 
    "I know you have it, Mother. Do you want two innocent people to die for your theft?"
 
    The queen sighed. "I do not. But there is nothing I can do." She slid out of bed and rummaged in her jewel case. "The one I have is also false." 
 
    Vivianne stared. "May I test it?"
 
    Isabo shrugged and handed it over. 
 
    It required only a moment for Vivianne to satisfy her doubts. She sat on the bed, her jaw slack. "How can this be?"
 
    "There are only two possibilities," Isabo said, pulling on her fur robe. "Either the Touchstone has lost its power -- or someone made the exchange before I took it."
 
    "How could the Touchstone lose its power?"
 
    "An evil spell, perhaps. Or national sin."
 
    "Oh, Mother!" Vivianne said. "You were the one who taught me not to believe in evil spells!"
 
    Isabo sat beside her daughter. "I do not as a matter of course. But the last week has worn down my nerves."
 
    "However did you manage to get past Helix?"
 
    "I did a simpler thing. When I opened the coffer yesterday morning, I cried out that the Touchstone was missing and reached inside as if to feel for it. I palmed it that very moment, in full sight of everyone."
 
    "Clever and elegant. But one question remains. Why?"
 
    "I hoped to delay the wedding." A silver teardrop coursed down Isabo's cheek. "I could not bear the thought of your being dragged away into a loveless marriage."
 
    "Oh, Mother!" Vivianne put her arms around her. "The feast, the decorations, the ices -- all that was counterfeit?"
 
    "Perhaps I overdid it a little." the queen said. "But I wished to avert suspicion. And I almost succeeded. How did you know?"
 
    "I did not. But I came to the conclusion that the thief must be you or father, and thought if I took you by surprise, I would know the truth of the matter. When you lie, you sometimes betray yourself by playing with your hair."
 
    "So your father tells me. I have tried to school myself against it -- but you ambushed me when I was barely awake."
 
    "Oh, Mother, I'm sorry -- but I had to know!"
 
    Isabo held out her arms. "I just want you to be happy!"
 
    Tears rising, Vivianne snuggled in her mother's arms. Oh, to be a child again, safe from the complications of politics!
 
    "Why, oh why, did Bertrand the Wise saddle us with this accursed Touchstone?" Vivianne moaned.
 
    "He believed that a joyful marriage bed is the foundation of a healthy state," Isabo said. "During his reign, all marital vows were tested with the Touchstone. His own son went to the altar four times before he finally married the pig girl."
 
    Viv laughed. "There were no repercusssions?"
 
    "Only happy ones. The kingdom was powerful in those days, and Bertrand's will ruled absolutely. In time, folk returned to arranged marriages. But the custom of love matches persisted in the royal line."
 
    "And how did you and Father cheat the Touchstone? Your marriage was arranged, was it not?"
 
    Isabo smiled. "Oh yes. Both of us were outraged. I exchanged clothes with my maid when the prince came to visit, not knowing that he had done the same with his valet. We fell in love, and heroically announced to our parents that we would marry only each other."
 
    "Your parents -- did they know the truth?"
 
    "Of course. Father hid his smiles as he decreed that the Touchstone would judge my sincerity. Imagine my astonishment when he led me down the aisle and I recognized my true love!"
 
    "Did Father know you?"
 
    "Not at first. When I took the oath, he recognized my voice under the veil. He pulled it away and covered my face with kisses. It was several minutes before the ceremony could be resumed."

    Vivianne laughed. "That is like a minstrel's tale!"
 
    "There is more. Roseanna and Albryght also fell in love during their official courting."
 
    "The Albryght who now guards me?"
 
    "The very one. Roseanna died of a fever before they could wed, and he has never looked at another woman. You are like a daughter to him."
 
    "Oh mother! Why did you never confide in me?"
 
    Isabo sighed. "You are my youngest, and I wanted to shield you from the burdens of state as long as possible."
 
    "I am a grown woman now, not a baby."
 
    Isabo held her close. "You will always be my baby."
      
    Vivianne disengaged herself gently. "Mother, what are we going to do? Father must have the Touchstone. Perhaps he spirited the keys from you while you slept, and sent the guard on an errand while he rifled the coffer. No one would dare to question the king."
 
    The queen nodded. "I have suspected as much. But if I accuse him, it will mean my head."
 
    "Mother! Father loves you too much."
 
    "It is high treason to speak against the king, even with proof. And I have none."
 
    Despite the heavy fur around her shoulders, Isabo shivered. Vivianne kissed her on the cheek.
 
    "Never mind. We will go to the banquet and smile sweetly, and leave it to Father to do what he must.  We may yet draw a happy conclusion from this muddle. Prince Scaurion has assured me he will do everything in his power to help us."
    
    
 
CHAPTER FIVE: The Test of Truth
    
    Vivianne yawned and leaned against Prince Scaurion's shoulder. She was sated with food and wine, and the entertainment was beginning to pall. It was more than a day since she had slept. The king, having spent the afternoon napping, showed no inclination to retire, and none could leave the banqueting table before he did.
 
    Poor Albryght would be up all night preparing for his long journey to Khardoun. She had located him a scant half hour before the banquet, long enough to secure his promise of assistance. She had spoken only of returning a noble lad to his homeland: Karina could reveal the rest if she saw fit.  
 
    King Tetys pushed himself to his feet. Vivanne hoped fervently that this would be his farewell speech, not another florid toast. Her father was given to multiple toasts when he had imbibed.
 
    "Ladies and gentlemen," the king announced, "we must be up early for the festivities -- provided, of course, my future brother-in-law sees fit to arrive in time. Let us therefore drink a final toast to the two kingdoms which will be so forti -- fortitu -- fortuitously united. To Skarresk and Moranda!"
 
    "To Skarresk and Moranda!" the guests chimed. 
 
    "At last!" Vivianne said. "I can go to bed. Scaurion, I must apologize for father's ill-advised comment about your father. He is ... not himself."
 
    "The truth is generally to be found at the bottom of a wine cup," Scaurion said. "No matter: unless, of course, some malicious lackey tattles to my father."
 
    "Look at Broxx," said Vivianne.  The Chief High Justice was speaking earnestly in the King's ear. "Whatever he wants, I hope it can wait until morning." 
 
    "Now?" the king roared. "You are convening the High Court now? It is past midnight!"
 
    Curious, Vivianne drew close enough to overhear Broxx' reply.

    "Your Majesty, my investigation is now complete. If we deal with the matter tonight, the accused may be released from the dungeon in time for the wedding. There will no time in the morning. Who knows when King Beltauron will arrive?"
 
    "Do you mean to tell me," the king asked, "that you know where the Touchstone is?"
 
    "I believe so, Majesty."
 
    And so it was that, for the second time in a day that seemed endless, Vivianne sat yawning on her gilded chair. Prince Scaurion sat at her side, favoured by the invidious stare of Judge Solon. This time, there was no crowd of observers: the few who ventured to present themselves had been turned away. The two prisoners appeared in much better spirits, having drawn strength from each other's love.
 
    King Tetys did not wait for Broxx to launch into his introductory remarks. "Speak up, Broxx, if you have anything worthwhile to say. Do you know where the Touchstone is?"
 
    "Your Majesty, I believe that it is in this very room," Broxx said.
 
    "Indeed." the king grunted. "And you are going to produce it, I trust?"
 
    "If Her Majesty will surrender the keys, I will do so."
 
    Broxx unlocked the sixteen fastenings with a practised hand and removed the gem from its white satin bed.  "This," he said, placing it on the oaken table, "is the false one."
 
    His fingers explored the inside of the coffer until they caught on something.
 
    "If you will all gather around and observe," Broxx said.
 
    Vivianne stood on tiptoes to see over her mother's shoulder as Broxx wriggled a hidden lever. The satin lining parted, revealing a compartment beneath.
 
    "And this, I believe," Broxx said, extracting a second indigo gem and holding it triumphantly aloft, "is the true Touchstone."
 
    "How --?" the queen breathed. 
 
    "It was a simple matter of study," Broxx said. "There are many legends of the Touchstone in the palace archives. Some of them, it appears, are true."
 
    "We must put it to the test at once!" Justice Solon said eagerly. "For all we know, it is another forgery."
 
    Broxx handed the jewel to Solon, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Do you love princess Vivianne?"
 
    Solon started. "Esteemed Justice, that would be most inappropriate."
 
    "Answer the question!" the king prompted, his nose no more than a handsbreadth from Solon's. "Do you have feelings for my daughter?"
 
    Solon stared like a rabbit transfixed by a cobra. "No, Your Majesty."
 
    The Touchstone flashed white. Solon yelped and dropped it. Broxx retrieved it, using the hem of his robe to shield his fingers.
 
    "I believe we have found the true Touchstone," Broxx announced, the corner of his mouth twitching.
 
    A scant hour later, Vivianne was lying on her bed, fully clothed, wishing fervently that the impromptu engagement party in her chamber would end. It was wonderful to have Miry back, of course; even more wonderful that she now wore Helix' Bond of Promise. She loved Scaurion like a brother, and was prepared to be a friend to Karina; but right now, her greatest desire was for sweet sleep.
 
    "Please," she groaned. "Please let me sleep. I must be married in the morning!"
 
    The hubbub faded to shocked silence.
 
    "The wedding!" Miry exclaimed. "We forgot about the wedding! Now that the Touchstone is returned, you cannot take the nuptial oath."

    "Would it help if we wore gloves?" Scaurion asked.
 
    "No," Helix said. "I have observed the result."
 
    Karina snuggled into Scaurion' side to get his attention. "You could persuade your father that the Morandan ceremony is unacceptable, and insist that you be married in Skarresk."
 
    Scaurion looked down at her admiringly. "Well schemed, my darling! Provided we can devise arguments compelling enough to persuade Father. He is not wont to change his plans easily."
 
    "I have a better plan," Miry said. She poured the contents of Vivianne's make-up case on the bed. "Do you have any hair dye?"
 
 
 
EPILOGUE: The Royal Alliance
 
    "I swear that my heart is free of any love save for the one who stands beside me here. Of my own free will I pledge myself to her forever, for our mutual delight, comfort and sustenance in this life and the next."
 
    The women in the Great Temple of the Guardians of Moranda groped for their handkerchiefs, while the men squirmed with embarrassment. The prince was so handsome, glittering in his jewelled coat, his peacock-feather hat becomingly framing a face radiant with the light of love! Never had the words of the Great Nuptial Oath been more noblly spoken.
 
    The Most Exalted Priest nodded to Chief High Justice Broxx, who took the Touchstone from the groom's hand and placed it in the bride's. He had refused to allow anyone but himself to lay a finger on the Touchstone until he personally placed it in Scaurion' hand. All nine High Justices had vigilled through the night to ensure that no further substitutions were possible.
 
    "I swear that my heart is free of any love save for the one who stands beside me here." Vibrant with joy, the bride's voice echoed among the great columns and soared to the belfry, provoking another flurry of ecstasy from the congregation. "Of my own free will I pledge myself to him forever, for our mutual delight, comfort and sustenance in this life and the next."
 
    The groom knelt to fasten the Bond of Fidelity to his beloved's right ankle. She knelt beside him while the priest pronounced the benediction. The temple bells began to peal wildly, inspiring fervent cheering by the populace in the courtyard. The two were man and wife.
 
    Everyone leaned forward as Prince Scaurion reverently lifted the silken veil that covered the bride's face. Her beauty was somewhat marred by the overly heavy cosmetics she wore, but the radiance of true love on her face was as unmistakable as the fiery gold of her hair gleaming under her coronet.
 
    After the formal kiss was exchanged, the bride removed her veil and laid it upon the altar of the Virgin Goddess. There was a murmur of disappointment when the groom immediately shrouded his wife's loveliness with the heavy black veil required of the married women of Skarresk; but, as they said to each other afterwards, when the match was as advantageous as this one, it was well worth making concessions to the ways of the new royal relatives. Some men were even heard to comment that it was a good custom, conducive to fidelity and domestic harmony.
 
    The nuptial feast the queen had laboured over so arduously proceeded precisely as planned, and was spoken of in awed tones for many years to come. King Beltauron took a liking to the local wine, and became unusually mellowed, complimenting all and sundry on the fine qualities of Moranda and her people: he even leered jovially at the queen's widowed sister, who smiled back archly and began mentally planning her trousseau.
 
    The new bride sat in submissive silence throughout the feasting. From time to time, her hand appeared briefly from under her veil to snare some succulent tidbit. Her new father-in-law did not deign to speak to her, but was later heard to remark that she was as well-bred as any native-born woman of Skarresk.
 
    The royal party departed the next day, with the bride safely ensconced in her windowless litter. Among the huge crowd that had gathered to bid them farewell were two young women with their arms comfortably linked.
 
    "I wish you could have been there," Miry said as the procession disappeared over a hill. "It was such a moving ceremony."
 
    Viv laughed and stroked her hair, newly darkened with walnut stain. "No thank you! That was one wedding I was glad to miss!"
 
    "Come, my dear niece," Albryght said, his fingers caressing the pouch of jewels in his pocket. "We have trading to do. Then, we must visit that estate I told you about. It will be a perfect place to raise horses, my dear."
 
    Viv turned to Miry and enveloped her in a heartfelt hug. "I wish you would come with us, even for a day or two. There is so much to talk about!"
 
    "Not this time," Miri said firmly. "Helix awaits. But never fear -- I will remember to deliver your note to Justice Solon. I can't wait to see his face when he finds out that his lost love is not lost after all, but eager and waiting!"