"We will have to be careful with your mother—she is not built for this," Karzac grumbled. Ry looked at Uncle Karzac—he could be the father too, and Ry had only just thought of that. Kevis, Karzac's only son with another mate, was a year older than Ry and Tory. He came to visit occasionally, when he wasn't in school.

"She is small, with a thin build, and being what she is," Reemagar explained Karzac's statement. Ry and Tory both nodded. Their mother was five feet tall, if that, and both boys towered over her, as did all their uncles.

"It won't hurt her, will it?"

"We will make her as comfortable as possible through this," Reemagar replied. "And we will monitor things with her. These Council meetings and any other business that she tends to may have to be cut back, or others may handle them for her. It will not be the first time."

"It will be the first time in fourteen years," Uncle Drake pointed out. He and Uncle Drew had just walked in. Ry knew that they'd come from their mother's suite.

"Who took the prisoners to Evensun?" Tory asked quietly.

"Aurelius and Aryn escorted them," Drake answered the question. Tory nodded at the reply.

"Will we know if they—you know."

"We'll know." Tory nodded at Drake's reply.

"Can we go see Mom?" Ry wanted to know.

"You can see her, but she is asleep at the moment. She was frightened at the news at first, so a healing sleep was placed. Connegar is with her now, as are Pheligar and Renegar. They will wake her shortly—she does not need to go without eating." Reemagar rose and motioned for the two boys to rise too. Reemagar didn't ask them to walk down two flights of marble steps and then traverse endless corridors and hallways to get to their mother's suite in the residential wing. Reemagar folded them in.

"Go ahead, she will not wake." Connegar sat in a very large chair next to their mother's bed. He'd brought something in with power—the chair didn't match anything they had inside the palace.

"She always looks so little in this huge bed," Tory whispered.

"Your mother presents a much larger image to those around her—she is powerful, you know," Connegar said gently. "It is only when she sleeps, or on the rare occasions when she relaxes that she shows herself as she truly is."

Ry nodded and sat on the side of the bed. He took his mother's left hand in his; there were rings on nearly every finger of both hands—several on some fingers. One for each of her Inner Circle mates. Gavin's ring was the largest, and had a huge diamond in the center surrounded by swirls of smaller diamonds. Many people across the Alliance had copied that ring and many wives of important men proudly wore something similar. All the Inner Circle mates had a ring, too—a large gold signet ring with the claw crown engraved upon it. That ring was guarded carefully and no one was allowed to copy it. It was the official seal for the Queen of Le-Ath Veronis.

"I will wake her, if you will help us convince her to eat," Connegar smiled. Ry smiled back—it was rare to see two Larentii smiling on the same day.

"How is she?" Thurlow, whom Ry and Tory hadn't seen in nearly a month, walked in with Norian. Thurlow must have gone to get Norian—he'd been on Hraede to handle some business there. Thurlow sometimes had the same feel about him that Kifirin had, only to a lesser degree. And he didn't blow smoke as Kifirin did at times. Thurlow had dark hair and a slightly crooked nose; otherwise, he would have been quite handsome. As it is, he still drew interest whenever he was off-planet.

"As well as can be expected," Connegar replied to Thurlow's question. "She should eat, though, before she becomes nauseous."

"When will we know who the father is?" Norian asked.

"The Wise Ones do not wish to give out that information for a while," Connegar replied.

"So they want to leave us in the dark." Norian wasn't happy and Ry and Tory both knew it. "We'll all have our hopes up, and then get disappointed."

"Will this make you treat her any differently?" Reemagar asked.

"You should know better than that," Norian snapped. "We all think of these children as ours in some way."

"Then think of this one as yours as well." Connegar rose from his chair and made it disappear with a thought. "Wake her, young one." Connegar tapped Ry on the shoulder. Ry nodded and leaned down to touch his mother's shoulder.

"Mom, wake up and come eat," Ry said softly. He knew his mother would hear—could have heard from across the room, even.

"Honey, what are you doing?" The Queen's eyes opened slowly.

"Trying to get you up so you can have dinner with us," Tory said over Ry's shoulder.

"I don't know," the Queen sat up with Connegar's assistance. "I feel queasy."

"If you will eat, that will subside," Connegar pointed out.

"Are you going to be like this for the next seven months?" Queen Lissa swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was still dressed in the same clothing she'd worn to the Council meeting. "I need to change."

"Here," Connegar used power to change what the Queen wore. She now had denim pants and a stretchy shirt on. She looked down at her outfit.

"I sure hope the others don't freak when I show up at the table looking like this."

"I do not care what you have on, you will come eat. Now." Gavin was there and pulling her off the bed. "Come along, young ones. We will stand over her if necessary and make sure she eats."

Ry grinned at Tory as they followed Gavin and their mother from the royal suite.

* * *

Calebert sat across from Glendes, Eldest of Grey House, in Glendes' private study. "I can't fault her work," Calebert stated. "But Nissa takes so long to accomplish a single task. She should be working much faster than this."

"What do you have her doing?" Glendes had the tips of his fingers together as he watched the Master Wizard of the Weapons Division carefully.

"Cleaning rust from daggers and blades," Calebert replied. Nissa was Glendes' great-granddaughter, and it grieved him to bring this news to Glendes. "It takes her an entire day to clean a single dagger, and it takes two days to do a sword. She should be taking an hour at the most for a smaller blade."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

"Several times." Calebert blew out a sigh. Calebert's short vest was dyed yellow—the color of the Weapons Division of Grey House. Glendes wore the black robes of the Eldest of his clan. Calebert picked at a loose thread on his vest for a moment, before repairing it with power.

"Do you think we shouldn't try to train her?" Glendes asked, tapping his fingers together. Calebert recognized the gesture—Glendes was agitated.

"No, I didn't say that. She has ability. I'm just not sure it's being directed properly."

"When was the last time you spoke with her?"

"Today."

"Then give it a few more days. If she doesn't improve, I will talk with her." Glendes dropped his hands. That was his way of telling Calebert the interview was over. Calebert rose, dipped his head respectfully and left Glendes' study.

* * *

Nissa sat at a corner table in the family dining hall, away from anyone else. Her father was working late again, as he usually did. Grandfather Raffian was working too, and there wasn't anyone else near her age to have dinner with or talk to. She picked at her chicken dish. Calebert had gotten onto her again today. He couldn't understand why it took her so long to clean the rust from the daggers and swords. Nissa didn't know, either. He'd said to make them look like new. That command was what she concentrated on when she worked on them.

They gleamed as if newly made when she handed them in for inspection, but quality wasn't what they were looking for, apparently. Nissa wished for her mother in times like these, and wished that her father hadn't limited her mindspeech ability. She and her brothers all had it, but it had been muted so they couldn't get into trouble by using it at inappropriate times. If Nissa could have, she'd have sent mindspeech to her mother already.

"Don't forget the report that's due tomorrow." Her schoolmaster, Fourth-Tier Wizard Moris said as he passed her table. His words caused Nissa to slump over her dinner—she was only half done with the report and now she'd have to stay up as late as possible and turn in what might be substandard work.

She'd become more and more frustrated in the past few days—she knew Calebert was dissatisfied with the amount of time it took to finish what she was handed and three more daggers waited tomorrow. She was afraid she would only get one done and that wouldn't do. The royal house on Invardine was set to crown a new king and they'd dragged all the old ceremonial daggers from storage, asking Grey House to clean off the rust so they could be worn at the coronation. The deadline was approaching, Nissa was the one given the assignment and she was falling horribly behind.

* * *

"Look—the baby's made mud pies." Gren took full advantage of the fact that there weren't any adults around when he taunted Toff. Laral, Toff's former friend, stood behind Gren, sneering at Toff. One of the others—another Half with very little power, also stood behind Gren, laughing at his words. Toff was covered in drying mud—he'd dug up more clay for Mother Fern.

Unfortunately, there wasn't a pond or stream near the old streambed so Toff could wash the muck away. Toff's cheeks were pink as he ignored Gren, carrying his two heavy canvas bags of clay past the bully and his two new sidekicks. Who knew that Laral would turn on him this way?

"Hey, we're talking to you, eunuch." Gren reached out and poked Toff on the shoulder. Toff sidestepped and kept walking, although his temper was rising. Gren had never put a hand on him before—he'd always depended on Haldis and Sark to do it for him. He wondered what this meant—and also wondered about Laral and Clover—the other Halves who'd joined forces with Gren.