"My arms are getting sore," remarked Pothax. He tossed the shortsword from his left hand to his right. "On second thought," he said, sheathing the sword and taking out several daggers. "I can always juggle."

"On a skittish stallion?" asked Redhawk. "Are you nuts? What if the horse finally decides its had enough of yelling people?"

"Redhawk," said Wynic. "You once saw me throw daggers at a target blindfolded. I didn't miss once. Pothax is just as good as I am, if not better. There is no way he'll drop one!"

"Juggling blindfolded, now that would be a challenge." Pothax glanced away from his juggling to stick his tongue out at Redhawk. "Though I'd prefer not to do it with sharpened daggers."

"Show off." The knight shook his head and decided to change the subject. He didn't dare switch his sword to his swordarm though his left arm was getting sore to the point of agony. "I see Mathex has managed to invent a new ship type. I would have thought you'd tear a hole in the hull with a rock or something."

"Arthian Oak," smiled Victoria. She frowned. "Wynic, did Willium mention anything about bringing Princess Darylinn along? I could have sworn I just heard her laugh!"

"Well, no, but it wouldn't surprise me. Willium's always talked about bringing Darylinn to Kinian someday. Bren, you're her friend. Did she mention anything about coming to Kinian?"

The boy looked up from where he was riding behind Pothax. "No, well actually yes. She said something about getting the King to take her, but she wasn't sure if he would."

"Oh he would," grunted Redhawk. "He's always had a soft spot for that girl. She's a tricky little thing though from what I hear. But she's his only heir and he's probably concerned about her. In a way, she'd be safer traveling with an army than staying in Athex."

"Maybe not," spat Victoria, looking pointedly at the city walls. In comparison to Athex's walls, a hundred feet high and thirty feet thick, Jaton on the other hand had ten feet thick, forty feet high walls with crenelated battlements. The towers were sixty feet high and had mangonels, trebuchets and giant-crossbows at the top of them. "With Athex's walls the city guard and the palace guard could defend her easily against an small army." She sighed. "At any rate, if Darylinn's here, I'll probably be giving lessons. If not to Darylinn to the 'elite'."

"There's the palace," spat Pothax. "Who wants to bet that it will be a day before there's a military meeting? What with all the banquets to improve the royal family's morale?"

"I'll bet in favour of that," replied Redhawk. "Maybe even two days before such a conference. I'll bet two days before a conference. Will you bet one day, Pothax?"

"Sure. What's the stakes?"

"Money is a poor prize. How about the winner decides upon something embarrassing for the other to do? How about it?"

"So when I win, I could have you shave off one of your mustaches. You'd look pretty ridiculous walking around with only one mustache! What do you think Wynic?"

"Watch out, you both lose if it takes three or four days," came the reply.

The banquet that night was lavishly decorated and the guests couldn't help but smell the venison being roasted, cooked, baked and even fried in the kitchen. Antique bottles of brandy were brought out and served. They even broke into the Forty-fourteenth vintage.

The Forty-fourteenth vintage was a famous year for wine. The appleblossoms and grapes had grown to a state that was perfect for wine making. The product was later named Ambrosia because the vintage was so sweet and intoxicating.

"Now Pothax," said Redhawk, sipping lightly at Ambrosia. "The Royal Family of Kinian is very interesting and they have a knack for coincidences. First of all-"

"Not that speech," sighed Helen and Wynic together. They looked at each other and laughed. "He's told you it too, hasn't he?" he asked. Helen nodded.

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Please continue Redhawk. I could use a laugh."

Redhawk frowned at Wynic. "Could you and Helen be quiet?" he asked politely. "First of all, there is King Sear or Searle. You've met him and he's definitely a warrior-king fellow. His name means Armed-one. Do you see where I'm going with this?"

"Sort of."

"His wife, Colette means Victorious Army. She too is a warrior. Prince Harold is a high ranking soldier. His name means Army Ruler. The late Prince Roger was in the cavalry and his name is old Kinian for Spearman," explained Redhawk. "Are you starting to understand yet?"

"Yes," replied Pothax.

"How about you Victoria?"

"I think so," said Victoria with a questioning glance at Wynic. Where was this leading. The assassin shook his head and smiled.

"Princess Kelly and Princess Kerry are twins. Kelly means Warriormaid and she is in the infantry as a captain last I heard. Kerry means Dark One. She's a big fan of the Paladin Assassin."

Wynic blushed.

Redhawk continued, sipping at Ambrosia occasionally. "Nobody sees Prince Boyce much because he takes many trips into the woods on hunting trips. What's his name mean?"

"Forester," guessed Pothax.

"Hunter?" asked Victoria.

"From the Forest. Next there is another pair of twins: Princess Nicole and Princess Leana. Nicole means the same as Colette which is Victorious Army. She too is in the army. Leona is the captain of a cougar cavalry. What does her name mean?"

"Lion," replied Victoria. Pothax nodded in agreement.

Redhawk nodded. "Liongirl. Princess Darcy is in the palace Guard. Her name is old Kinian for From the Fortress. Prince Luc is King Sear's squire. His name means Lightbringer. The youngest pair of twins is Tracy-Saber and Ila-Emerald. They are too young for ranks in the army, but what does their names mean?"

"Something sword and something emerald," shrugged Victoria.

"Redhawk grinned. "Tracy-Saber is old Kinian for Boldsword. Ila-Emerald means Battlegem. Now what does my name mean?"

Victoria frowned. She couldn't remember Redhawk's first name because she never used it. All she could remember was it was old Stornium which was odd for a Kinian and it was insulting because she'd heard Rades swear it a couple times. "How'd this conversation get started?" she asked suddenly.

Pothax looked up. "I asked Redhawk what his first name was."

Helen and Wynic snickered. Victoria turned to face the two. "What's Redhawk's name?" she demanded.

Wynic shook his head helplessly. "Sorry Victoria. Redhawk swore us to secrecy when he told us. They said it during our wedding though."

Victoria thought back to her and Wynic's wedding three months earlier. She remembered Rades and Lord Blackaxe, both Storniums, laughing when Redhawk's name was mentioned. "I know that it wasn't a compliment which is why Redhawk never tells anyone."

"Very true," Redhawk replied. "Now I'd like you two to swear you'll never tell anyone it on your soul."

"I swear," grinned Victoria and Pothax in unison. Pothax crossed his fingers. He thought seriously about it though and uncrossed them.

"My name is Dumbkopf. It's old Stornium for stupid or dumb. Only it's very stupid and considered a very high insult in Stornium"

Pothax snorted. "Why'd your parents call you that?"

"I'll tell you later. Who is that?" Redhawk demanded. He pointed at a flashily dressed short man. He was making his way through the crowd towards them.

Victoria groaned. "It's Larry. Wynic, you mentioned showing me your house here in Jaton. I wouldn't mind leaving now."

"I'm already looking for an escape route," Wynic replied. Pothax nodded and followed.

Redhawk and Helen watched them leave in puzzlement. "What's wrong with this Larry?" Helen asked. "They act as if he's leprous or has the plague!"

Redhawk shrugged in response. Ten minutes later they regretted not following Pothax out the window. Redhawk wished Wynic had warned them about Larry's non-stop chattering. He was incredibly obnoxious.

Dame Larel frowned and took a drink of Ambrosia. Waytorn wasn't here. Though the King of Cutthroats was now considered a bit of a celebrity it was obvious why he didn't show up at court festivities. She wanted to apologize, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to do it here.

The banquet was moody and melancholy despite the festive atmosphere. King Searle and Colette were absent. Rumour was Colette hadn't left the cathedral since she heard of Roger's death. Larel took another drink.

A young maiden dressed in lightweight ceremonial armour sat down beside Larel. Her hair was cut short around the shoulders and she had large sad doe eyes. "Good evening she said, trying to sound cheerful.

"Didn't your father teach you not to lie, Princess Kerry?" asked Larel. She lifted her glass to take another drink.

"I'm Kelly and yes, my father taught me not to lie. It is a good evening even if spirits aren't," the Princess replied. She eyed the crossbowist with concern.

Larel downed the last of the Ambrosia and poured another glass. "I didn't know. These spirits are pretty good," she said, indicating the Ambrosia. "Wantsum?"

"No. I don't drink."

Larel snorted. "A Kinian that doesn't drink! That's rich! In fact, it's Royal!" She laughed and took another drink.

"Is there something wrong that you're drinking so much?" demanded Kelly, taking the Ambrosia bottle away. "You're drinking like a Colnic camel that's been lost in the desert for a couple years." The Princess waved at one of her brothers.

"Perhaps," muttered Larel, draining the glass goblet. She reached for the Ambrosia bottle. "Would you mind passing the bottle?"

"Sure," answered Kelly, handing the bottle over. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

Larel groaned and poured another goblet full. She considered drinking directly from the bottle, but that would be impolite. Especially in front of the Princess. "You've heard of the King Culprit?"

"Of course. My sister adores stories about him and the Paladin Assassin," Kelly replied. She wondered if she should invite her sister over for the story, but banished the thought.

"You've heard of how he sacrificed love and honour for power and wealth?" asked Larel, her voice growing slurred. Kelly nodded. The Dame took another drink and continued. "He and I-"

"Kelly's eyes went wide and her breath got caught in her throat. She stared at the knightess for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "Were you two lov-"

"I have to leave," said Larel abruptly. She got to her feet unsteadily and lurched towards the doors. She caught herself, steadied her stance and walked out with her head held high.

Kelly stared after the knightess for a long time. The stories of Waytorn's love affairs were always those of whores prostitutes and warriormaidens. They were not of Knights such as Dame Larel. Larel was a strong and proud woman, completely unlike the frivolous whores in the stories. She decided not to tell her sister Kerry about this. This was one secret she was going to keep. For Larel's sake.

"Father?"

King Sear looked up, his gray eyes flashing dangerously. He lowered his hostile exterior when he saw it was his firstborn son, Harold. "Yes son. Have you come to pray for Roger?"

Harold sighed deeply. "I have already prayed for Roger, father. I've come to pray for mother."

Searle nodded in understanding and returned his teary gaze to the altar. "I have taught you well. The living are far more important than the dead. You fear your mother's weeping may effect her good health?"

"IT would be a sad thing indeed to have two funerals," replied Harold solemnly. He knelt down beside his father before the shadowy altar. "Or three funerals."

Searle looked up. "What do you mean?" he demanded. "Are you to pray for me as well?"

"No father you will not die on a sick bed. I have a feeling. You're not the type of man to die lying down," said Harold. He listened to the sounds of festivities in the distance for a moment. "Nicole on the other hand is not faring well."

"Oh? How so? I haven't seen her in the chapel as of yet?"

"She has taken a different attitude towards Roger's death. At first she had tried to ignore it by pretending it didn't happen. She nearly strangled one of the servants when he asked her how she felt. Now she's busy drinking at the banquet."

Sear sighed heavily. "That is the way with some people. They'll drink themselves silly, cry their heart out for a period of time and then it will be all over with. I've always wished I could do that."

"You're lucky," came a voice from shadows. "It doesn't hurt when you cry." The speaker moved forward so Harold could see his face.

"How long have you been there Waytorn?" Sear demanded angrily. His hand snaked to the hilt of his longsword. He hoped he wouldn't have to use it. Not here.

"Since before you arrived here your majesty," Waytorn replied, ducking back into the shadows. "You're not the only one to come to the cathedral to beg forgiveness and pray for one's soul. I never receive an answer though so I always assume the Lord's busy thinking about it. I can leave if you like?"

"No, that's not necessary, Waytorn," replied Harold. He didn't trust the cutthroat anymore than anyone else, but he'd seen the Culprit's face and tear filled eyes. "All men are welcome in the house of the Lord. Even you."

"Jaton, the city of Lights, Rivers and Romance," said Victoria, boarding the bateau. She looked over the side and saw her reflection in the water. "How do they manage not to flood all the sewers and wine cellars in this place?"

"You missed the City of Wine," commented Wynic, sitting down across from the helmsman. "The answer to your question is that the sewers are built on a level below the rivers and that the cellars are above the water table."

"Wrong," spat the helmsman. "For every island there is a separate sewer system that leads out of the city. The rivers are kept at their constant depth because of dams and release pipes. When it's too low we allow more water through the dams. If it's too high we release water back into the main river. The wine cellars are designed and built in the same fashion you would an ale keg." The helmsman shook his head, jabbed his pole into the water and shoved the bateau into the middle of the river.

"Well, Wynic," said Pothax. "Where's this humble 'house' we've heard so much about? It isn't in a sewer, is it?"

Wynic shook his head. "I sure hope not," came the reply. "You've been in the catacombs below Willium's palace before, haven't you? Where they store past Kings?"

Pothax nodded, just a bit surprised. "A cave? I thought you said house?"

"I said a home. It's more or less a cozy storage place for my belongings," explained Wynic. "Helmsman, Raison Park."

Wynic picked up a tree branch and tossed it aside. He looked at the hole and reached in to pull more branches aside. "Where's Bren when you need him?" he muttered. "He could climb in there real easily and pull the branches out."

Pothax shrugged. "He's still at the banquet with Princess Darylinn. Willium says that noble children can be pretty mean at times and that it makes him feel better if Bren's around to stick up for her when Willium isn't."

"Mean?" asked Victoria. "As in Lady Bardelias kind of mean?"

"Yes, well, Bardelias did pop up in the conversation. I don't like her or her type so I figured giving the range of what I've taught Bren that I was quite happy to let him stay with Willium's group."

"You said 'range'. How far can Bren throw with a dagger?" demanded Victoria. she crossed her arms.

"Twelve to sixteen feet accurately. I'm very proud of him," replied Pothax. "He'll make a fine warrior one day."

"And how about you, Wynic," said Victoria. She placed her hands akimbo. "What have you been teaching Bren?"

Wynic smiled slowly, knowing Victoria disapproved. and wondered whether to lie or not. No, Victoria would see right through a lie. "Well," he began cautiously. "I have been giving him some fencing lessons." He frowned as he thought. "How different is this from you giving Darylinn archery lessons?"

"Ya?" demanded Pothax.

Victoria frowned and thought about it. "Aren't you done cleaning out the entrance yet?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Sure. Now what's the difference?"

"Nothing."

"Wynic," said Pothax. If you keep the entrance covered, what's the point of having skeletons there to 'ward off unwanted visitors'?" he asked, jocking a thumb back at the entrance.

Wynic shrugged. "Double protection in case anyone fell through the branches, I suppose. I do have a fair bit of wealth down here. It'd be a shame to have killed all these people with nothing to show for it."

Victoria shook her head in dismay and disgust. "Are cutthroats always this cold blooded?" she asked with a shudder. It sometimes amazed her that she had actually married Wynic.

"Survival of the fittest," explained Pothax defensively. "Imagine starving and knowing no way of finding food. You'd be amazed what a person can do when they're starving."

"That sounds like cannibalism," snorted Victoria.

"Sorry. I phrased that wrong."

"Couldn't you beg for money?"

"As I remember, there was a time when begging became too much and the government of Colnic enslaved a huge portion of the populous," remarked Wynic. "Pothax knows too much about that. When you compare the two you'll find that more people would rather kill others for a living than be enslaved."

"Uh, Wynic," said Pothax awkwardly. "As lovely as the conversation is, I'd like some light in here." He peered into the shadows and glanced back at the entrance where moonlight was coming through the branches covering the entrance. "I'd really hate to knock myself senseless on a stalactite or something."

Wynic nodded in understanding. He walked over to a shadowy corner and fished around for a torch. He came up with a burnt out torch. "This won't work," he said, looking hopefully at Pothax. "I'll need the Ambrosia you tucked into your belt to get it started."

Pothax grumbled and took out a small copper bottle. He doused the torch lightly as Wynic held it and lit it with some flint and steel. Once the flame was shedding enough light to see, Pothax corked the bottle and shoved it back in his belt. He crossed his arms impatiently.

Wynic led the way into the cave. "It doesn't have any stalactites or anything like that. It's barely a big crevice in the ground," he explained. He tossed the torch into a corner.

A pillar of fire rumbled up in the corner, choking the hole bored in the ceiling. Victoria smelled naphtha, an oil commonly used in the army as a weapon for catapults. Throwing burning naphtha at the enemy tends to slow them down a bit and burn them.

The crevice was slanted and in the shape of a domed oval. The ceiling was barely seven feet high, but the floor... Pothax hurled himself onto the floor and rolled around in the hoard of coins, valuable gems and the occasional antique pot or weapon. He howled with joy.

Wynic smiled. He walked over to a chest and lifted the latch. He looked the other way, prepared for the stench of rotted food inside. Taking a deep breath, he began tossing rotten food into the blaze nearby. He set the wine and brandy bottles aside though.

Victoria sat down beside the assassin and smiled at him. "I find it hard to see why you needed such a large hoard," she said, picking up a silver goblet. She stared at her reflection and the firelight dancing off the beautiful metal.

"A stupid cutthroat doesn't live long. This hoard was for my retirement," the assassin explained. "I can easily retire now, but the way I look at it is I'm already partially retired. It's not my fault the government keeps hiring me to assassinate people." He tossed a rotten loaf of bread into the blaze, and foraged around for more in the oak chest.

"So now that you're rich, what are you going to do with it?"

"Spend it of course," spat Pothax. He held up a small fortune in gems and admired their brilliance in the firelight. "Clothes, weapons, horses, that sort of thing!"

Vincenz von Ponde reached over and yanked on one of Princess Darylinn's blonde curls. He grinned and turned away. Three seconds later he went sprawling backwards five feet and landed in the indoor fountain with a splash.

Nebonex looked up and glanced at Gith. The old man nodded and reached for his cane, a recent affection that he'd taken on. "The boy pulled Darylinn's hair. Something's never change. It seems Willium was right in asking Bren to accompany the girl," he explained to the huge minotaur.

Lord Ponde pushed through the already gathered crowd of gossiping people and grabbed Bren by the collar. He lifted the struggling boy off the marble floor and held him at arms length. He raised a gauntleted fist to hit the boy.

Inside, Bren began to panic. Swift painful memories of his real father beating him came back and tore at his soul with barbed daggers. The boy couldn't fight back and Pothax wasn't here to save him. Not this time.

Sir Glac, Queen Helen's Royal Champion punched the Lord Ponde in the chin with a mailed fist. Ponde dropped Bren and the champion's quick reflexes reacted in time to catch the boy. He set him down and turned to face a red-faced Lord Ponde.

The two Stornium knights faced each other threatening. Bren looked up at Lord Ponde and later swore to Darylinn that he'd seen fire dancing in the knight's eyes. He backed away from the two knights.

Nebonex got up from the from the table and walked towards the two knights. General Gisoni and Lord Redhawk fell in line behind the Prince. Larry smiled and disappeared into the watching crowd.

"You be careful how you handle that boy, Lord Ponde," spat Glac. He swallowed. Lord Ponde was perhaps the only other knight that could beat him in a duel.

"What is he to you? You probably don't even know the brat's name!" argued Ponde, pushing Sir Glac, but to no effect.

Nebonex laid a huge menacing hand on Lord Ponde's shoulder. He looked down at the knight to meet his stare. "I too would be careful around the boy." The Prince looked behind him. "Lord Redhawk, General Gisoni, Lord Jacog and Lord Blackaxe all seem to agree with me. It doesn't seem a wise thing to hit the Owl's son."

"Who?" snarled Ponde, pretending not to know the nick-name of Pothax.

"Pothax Doxon," replied Lord Blackaxe. "Wynic Doxon's elder brother. That would make the boy his nephew, wouldn't it?"

Lord Ponde paled visibly. He hadn't known Pothax was a Doxon. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it abruptly because he didn't know what to say. He looked down at Bren and back up at the towering, seven foot minotaur.

Gith grinned. He looked around to see if anyone else had noticed Larry's handiwork. He wondered if Lord Ponde would take a step back and-

Ponde took a step backwards and stepped on a wine bottle. The bottle rolled forwards suddenly under the knight's foot and he lurched backwards into the fountain. He cried out in surprise and received a mouthful of water. He flailed around wildly, but to no avail.

What Gith didn't notice was that Lord Ponde was missing his dagger, money pouch and the pin from his swordbelt. When the knight finally crawled out of the fountain, his swordbelt fell off and the hilt of his sword hit his foot. He later noticed the loss of his money pouch and dagger, and spent the rest of the night looking for them in the fountain, assuming, of course, that he had dropped them in there. It never once crossed his mind that Bren might be a very skilled pick-pocket. Even if he had, he wouldn't have done anything about it.

"That's it," cried Dillard. The knight turned to Captain Adrienne. "We're turning around and heading to Jaton. Rades isn't stupid; if he's anywhere at all he'll be there! Even on foot, he'd have reached there by now!"

Adrienne frowned, but she gave the order to head for Jaton. "Are you sure he's all right?" she asked, turning the cougar-sled around in the powdery snow.

"Yes. He's probably there right now wondering what's taking me so long. That means I'm late. Do you know any shortcuts?"

Adrienne nodded in reply.

"I'd love to teach them, Redhawk," replied Victoria coolly. "But Wynic, Pothax and I were planning on a tour of Jaton. You know the place better than Wynic, why don't you show us around?"

Redhawk frowned and turned to Derick. "Take the Elites to Dame Larel and tell her to give them a crossbow lesson. I'll go with Victoria and Wynic," he ordered, his frown widening into a smile.

Derick nodded. "But first, may I speak to Victoria alone?"

Redhawk shrugged and wandered across the palace courtyard to speak with Wynic. As soon as he was out of earshot, Derick turned to Victoria. "How do you feel?"

Victoria looked in Wynic's direction at the other side of the soldier's barracks. "Aside from the occasional nausea and morning sickness, I'm fine. I'm not very happy about being, in a way, hungover every morning."

Derick nodded in understanding. "Drinking wine is good, but only in very small dosages. Did your parents ever give you small sips when you were a child? Try to keep it at that." He studied her face for a moment. "Try to eat more too. Don't worry about getting fat, you'll be losing about seven or eight pounds in about five months. The extra food will make the baby healthier and the delivery will be less painful."

Victoria blushed and ran a hand through her brown hair. "I'd better go," she said, pointing at Mathex at Mathex running up to talk to Derick. "Looks like he need to discuss something with you." She turned and waved good-bye.

"Derick," cried Mathex, puffing up. "I've found a possible solution to Redhawk's excessive drinking. Drop one of these tablets in his wine before he drinks it," he explained, handing the squire a glass bottle with small white pills in it.

Derick looked at the pills dubiously. "What will they do to him? They aren't toxic are they?"

"No, not at all. They'll just put him to sleep. The main ingredient is sodium which is found in salt so there's nothing to worry about. Besides I already tested it on Princess Nicole last night and she's fine this morning."

Derick nodded. "Not even nausea?"

"Just a little bit. I talked to another doctor and he was so impressed that he made a batch of pills with the recipe and slipped it into her Ambrosia without telling me. I wasn't sure about the ingredients, but he told me not to worry since there is no toxins in it."

Derick studied the pills and tucked them in his breast pocket.