Pony crouched at the corner of the gatehouse, watching the spectacle at the Palmaris docks. The ferry had just come in, crowded with folk from the town of Amvoy across the Masur Delaval, and now the Pal-maris city soldiers and a pair of monks from St. Precious jostled the new-comers, inspecting their goods, barking questions at them. Every day it got worse.

Pony had been in the city for more than a week. After she'd seen similar problems at the north gate when she'd arrived, she entered the city secretly at night, using malachite to boost her and Greystone right over a little-guarded position along the city wall. What a thrilling ride that had been, cantering Greystone into a great leap and using the levitational powers of the gemstone to let them soar far above and beyond the ten-foot wall!

After arranging board for Greystone at a stable on the city's north end, Pony had gone straight to the thriving Fellowship Way, finding Belster O'Comely along with a woman, Dainsey Aucomb, who had come on to help the Chilichunks years before, when Pony had been indentured in the army. Several others from up north were at the Way as well, some working, others patrons; and at first Pony was afraid that being recognized by so many could lead to serious trouble. Belster had taken care of that, though, calling a quick meeting and helping Pony to change her identity. Now she was Carralee dan Aubrey, a combination of the names of a friend and her infant niece, both of whom had been killed during the original goblin raid on Dundalis many years before.

Only then did Pony appreciate how organized Belster and his friends were. Such an underground brotherhood had become necessary, he explained, because of the policies of the new head of the abbey of St. Pre-cious, Abbot De'Unnero. Some were already whispering that he was not merely the abbot of St. Precious but also bishop of Palmaris, a title that con-ferred the powers of both abbot and baron. That notion terrified Pony, for in a world where edicts from King and Father Abbot could take weeks to arrive, such a position gave De'Unnero, in effect, the powers of a dictator.

Now that she had settled into the routines of Fellowship Way, Pony had been going out each day to witness the events about the town, particularly near the gates and the docks, where the changes seemed most acute.

Palmaris was a fortified city, but primarily it was a trading city, a port at the mouth of the great river, the hub for any merchants operating in the northwest of Honce-the-Bear. As such, the city gates had always been only lightly guarded, but now. . .

The reason given for the increase in security was the deaths of both Abbot Dobrinion and Baron Bildeborough. But from what Elbryan had told her, and everything she had witnessed of De'Unnero, and everything Jojonah had told her, she knew De'Unnero knew the Church had been inti-mately involved as well in the murder of Baron Bildeborough. This made it clear to Pony that De'Unnero was using the fear of the Palmaris populace only to increase his power. He was using the murders as an excuse to solidify his own position.

Pony thought about the implications of De'Unnero's new title for a long while. Church and state power united in one man. Seeing the soldiers working with the monks now at the ferry sent a shiver along her spine.

When about half the travelers were allowed to enter Palmaris but the other half put back on the boat to return to Amvoy, the soldiers and monks turned their attention elsewhere. On their way off the docks, they paused long enough to taunt and heckle, even spit at, a group of Behrenese young-sters who were playing a game on a street. The southern dock section of Palmaris had been an enclave for the Behrenese for many decades. In all the years Pony had lived in Palmaris, the Behrenese, even the yatol priests, had been viewed with compassion and brotherhood by the city's folk, particu-larly by the monks of St. Precious, who would often be seen down by the docks with armloads of food and clothing, helping any new Behrenese arrivals settle comfortably in the strange city.

How the times had changed! But it wasn't just the poor folk living by the docks, or the less-connected travelers trying to get into the city who were having trouble with the new policies.

Pony made her way quickly across Palmaris, into the hilly section on the city's west side where the wealthier citizens resided. In the Way the night before, one of Belster's contacts had mentioned some strange happenings in this area, something Pony had just confirmed when she'd overheard a man at the ferry dock.

It didn't take Pony long to see what Belster's informant and the man at the docks were talking about. She saw a group of about a dozen city sol-diers and three Abellican monks walking boldly down the middle of Bilde-borough Way, the main avenue in this section of Palmaris. Fortunately, Pony saw them before they spotted her, and ducked behind a hedgerow - which were quite common in this wealthy part of the city. Hardly daring to breathe, Pony berated herself for coming here physically instead of simply using her soul stone and spiritually spying on the region.

Then as the group neared, she realized one of the monks was using a red gemstone.

"Garnet," she whispered under her breath. Garnet, the Dragon Sight, the stone used to detect the emanations of magic. This group was out in search of magic stones!

Pony watched as they stopped at a gate, one of the soldiers slapping his metal gauntlet against the large entry bell. A pair of house guards appeared almost immediately. Within seconds, the sound of the exchange became loud enough that Pony, though she was several doors away, could make out the words.

"We'll not stand here and argue with mere merchant bodyguards," the soldier who had slapped the bell declared. "Open wide the gate, by order of the bishop of Palmaris, or we shall trample it down, and trample, too, any who stand before us."

"And do not think that your master will protect you with his tricks of magic," another soldier interjected. "We have brothers of St. Precious with us who are more than able to defeat any such attacks."

A bit more prodding, a bit more yelling, and finally the house guards opened the gate. They asked that only one or two men enter to speak with their master, but the whole group shoved past them. They emerged a few minutes later, a middle-aged man in a rich robe in their midst. One of the monks caught Pony's attention, for he was holding a large headdress - a crown of sorts - set with many glittering gemstones.

She realized that some of those stones must have magical properties, for she had heard that merchants often bought stones from the Church and, using alchemists and other stones, converted them into magical items. This merchant's crown no doubt carried strong magical energy, and that, she believed, was what had led the group to his door. Glad indeed was Pony that she had not come out here spiritually!

The group went past - and Pony breathed easier - heading west down the wide street in the direction of Chasewind Manor, formerly the home of the ruling Bildeborough family but now, by all accounts, the residence of Abbot - Bishop De'Unnero.

"So strange," Pony whispered to herself as she made her way back to the more crowded central areas of the city. She told herself that there might be many reasons De'Unnero would seek out magic use in this dangerous time so soon after the end of the war and so soon after the deaths of the two former city leaders. But she suspected the search through the city had another quarry.

The Bishop was looking for her.

"Cousin, if you are wise - though I know that you are not - you will dis-miss your anger before we arrive at Chasewind Manor," Shamus Kilronney said to Colleen. The two hadn't even passed through the northern gate of Palmaris when some of the sentries had begun blabbering about the many changes that had taken place in the city. Shamus and Colleen had gone straight off to St. Precious to speak with the new abbot, but they had been turned away and pointedly told to return to their assigned quarters and await a summons.

Then came the long wait, and it was all that Shamus could handle merely keeping Colleen in check. As each rumor filtered out to them - the abbot had been appointed Bishop, which gave him all the powers of abbot and baron; the man had taken up residence at Chasewind Manor; Colleen's sol-diers were being used as escorts for missions of the Church - both Shamus and Colleen became more and more uneasy. For Colleen in particular, still upset by the death of her beloved Baron, this new turn of events was almost more than she could take.

Finally, more than a week after their return to Palmaris, the pair was summoned to Chasewind Manor, to report to Bishop Marcalo De'Unnero. They were met in the courtyard by a host of monks. There they waited for more than an hour. Other prominent soldiers filtered in, and then came a great carriage, which Shamus recognized as one of the King's own. The captain didn't know the names of the two men who stepped out, but he did know that they were from the court of King Danube, important emissaries indeed.

They strode past the group outside without a word, not even a nod to the Kingsmen captain.

"And how long do ye mean to keep us waitin'?" Colleen asked loudly before the men had entered the house. They simply ignored her, and so did the monks. In fact, the only response she received came from her nervous cousin.

"They will keep us waiting as long as it suits the noblemen," Shamus scolded. "You do not understand our place in this or the potential punish-ments if we do not hold to that place."

"Bah." Colleen snorted. "Ye'd have me bowin' and beggin'. Yes sir and no sir, and might I wipe the spit from yer chin, sir?"

"You do not understand the nobility."

"Been servin' the Baron for ten years," Colleen argued.

"But Rochefort Bildeborough was a man of Palmaris, not of the court of Danube Brock Ursal," Shamus warned. "These nobles will have your respect, or they will have your tongue - or worse!"

Colleen spat on the ground, very near the foot of the closest monk. She looked around at her fellow soldiers, many of whom had been house guards for the Bildeborough family, and took comfort in their grim expressions, understanding that they, too, were not pleased. All of them had served Rochefort Bildeborough for years; all of them had come to respect and even love the man as their leader.

A monk came out the front doors of the manor house, a scroll in hand. "Shamus Kilronney," he called. "Captain of the Kingsmen. And Colleen Kilronney of the city guard."

"Beware your treasonous temper," Shamus whispered as he and Colleen strode toward the man.

"And if I cannot control it, cousin, I'm sure ye'll cut me down," she replied with a snarl. "I'm just hopin' that I can get the imposter's head afore ye do!"

Shamus glared angrily at her.

"Ye just watch me do it," she said stubbornly, as if daring him to be-tray her.

The point proved moot, and Shamus breathed a bit easier, because inside the house, they were accosted by a group of armed soldiers - who were not known to Colleen - and many grim-faced Abellican monks who demanded their weapons. Shamus readily complied, for he knew only specially as-signed guards were allowed any weapons at the King's court. Colleen slapped away one monk's hand as he reached for her weapon, then she drew out her sword threateningly. The monk jumped back into a fighting stance and several soldiers put their hands to sword hilts.

But Colleen only smiled and laughed, and flipped her weapon over, catching it at mid-blade and handing it over.

"I'll not fight on your side," Shamus warned quietly as they were escorted to the audience room.

"And ye're thinkin' that I'm not already knowin' as much?" Colleen replied dryly.

The audience room was large, but it did not seem so to the two, for many monks and soldiers and visiting nobles and merchants all clustered about, eyes aimed at the young, strong Bishop. Many heads did turn to glance without interest at the two soldiers, Shamus in his splendid Kingsmen dress and Colleen in her weathered traveling outfit.

"I do say, it is not difficult to discern which of these two comes from the court of the King," said one of the visiting Ursal nobles with a sniff.

The Bishop waved at the man to be quiet, locking stares with Shamus and then with Colleen.

The man was impressive, Colleen had to admit, his stare strong and intense. This first meeting quickly became a contest of wills, the two staring, unblinking, as many moments slipped past.

Finally, Bishop De'Unnero dropped his eyes to regard the Kingsman. "You are Shamus Kilronney?" he asked. "Captain Kilronney?"

The man straightened his shoulders. "I am, sir."

"Very good," said De'Unnero. "You have been told of my appointed position?"

Shamus nodded.

"And do you, both of you," he added quickly, glancing back at Colleen, "understand the meaning of my title?"

"I'm thinkin' that it means there be no more Bildeboroughs," Colleen remarked, drawing an elbow in the ribs from Shamus. But De'Unnero only laughed.

"Indeed there are not," he said with a chuckle. "Nor were any others deemed worthy of the position. Thus, I serve both the King and Father Abbot now, as baron and abbot - bishop, by title."

"We have been informed, Bishop De'Unnero," Shamus said quickly, before Colleen could offer any more sarcasm.

"And since the city is in such disarray, King Danube has deemed it nec-essary to lend me a contingent of his soldiers," the Bishop explained.

"I understand," Shamus replied, then followed with the standard, accepted line of obedience. "And, of course, my men and I are at your com-plete disposal."

"Of course," the Bishop echoed. "And what of you, Colleen Kilronney? I have heard many of the guards here at Chasewind Manor speak highly of you. Of course, I have also heard many whisper that Colleen Kilronney would not be in good spirits when she returned from the north to discover the changes in her city."

Colleen's eyes widened, surprised that the new bishop had so bluntly put that out on the table. She started to answer, but De'Unnero stopped her.

"I understand your anger," he said. "I have been told that none were more loyal to Baron Rochefort Bildeborough. Of course that sentiment will carry over for some time after his death. I applaud such loyalty." He leaned forward in his chair, so that only she, and perhaps Shamus, could hear. "But I will not tolerate any disloyalty to your beloved Baron's successor."

Colleen's eyes narrowed dangerously as De'Unnero eased back. Again the two locked stares - and this time, it was Colleen who finally backed down.

"I will require a full accounting of your travels up north," De'Unnero went on, never taking his imposing stare from the warrior woman. "Unfor-tunately, at this time, I have other matters to attend."

"We will return when you summon us," Shamus replied and started to bow, thinking it was time to take their leave.

"No, you will stay and you will wait," De'Unnero corrected. He motioned to one of the monks. "Find them a place, a side room some-where," the Bishop instructed absently.

"Ye sure 'twas on that eye?" Dainsey Aucomb asked for the third time, reaching out again to adjust Pony's eyepatch.

"The right eye," Pony replied with a sigh, growing impatient. Pony worked hard to hide that frustration. Dainsey wasn't the brightest- burning torch in the room, but the disguise had been her idea and her doing, and it alone allowed Pony free run of Fellowship Way. Besides, Dainsey had been a loyal worker for Graevis and Pettibwa, a daughter of sorts, filling the void that had been left in their lives when Pony had been sent into the army by Abbot Dobrinion as punishment for her attack against her husband, Connor Bildeborough. And, more recently, Dainsey had proven to be a great help to Belster, had willingly given him control of the tavern - left in her care when the Chilichunks had been abducted by the Church - and had stayed on without complaint to help Belster operate the business.

So Pony, for all her frustration and fear, took extra care not to let any hint of her anger out.

"The right one, ye say? " Dainsey asked, honestly perplexed.

"Thought it was the left eye," came Belster's voice, as the portly inn-keeper entered the room.

Pony turned a one-eyed glare his way, and saw the jovial man smiling wider than usual - and that became a belly chuckle when Dainsey stub-bornly reached for the eye patch.

"Right eye," Pony said firmly, pushing Dainsey's hand away. She was more frustrated with Belster than with the woman, for she knew the inn-keeper was only teasing her. She turned her gaze from Belster, for her obvious distress was only making him smile all the wider, and looked directly at Dainsey, pointedly grabbing the woman's wrist and pulling her arm down.

"Right eye, then," Dainsey at last agreed. "Yer own skinny neck, it is. Ye let me get ye some more powder, though. Can't be havin' any o' that golden hair o' yers shinin' through!"

The mere mention of the gray powder sent Pony's hand up to scratch at her temple, then to run her hand back through her thick mane. She knew that Dainsey was right. With Dainsey's help, she went into the Way each night as Belster's wife, Caralee dan Aubrey O'Comely, padded and frumpy, and fully twenty years older than Jilseponie Ault.

"Any information?" Pony asked.

"Nothing important," Belster replied. "It is as if our friend Roger Lockless walked into the damned Masur Delaval." The innkeeper gave a frus-trated shake of his head, then paused, waiting until Dainsey left. "And what of these soldiers?" Belster asked quietly. "You are certain that they were looking for the gemstones?"

"If not, then why have monks accompanying them?" Pony replied. "And the monks were using garnet, the stone also known as Dragon Sight because it bestows on its user the power to detect magic."

"But the gemstones have to be in use for such detection?" Belster asked nervously.

Pony nodded and the portly innkeeper breathed a sigh of relief. "And I've not used any since my return," she added. "Brother Avelyn once told me that many merchants have purchased gemstones from the Church."

"And now the Bishop's taking them back," Belster reasoned.

"That may be part of it," Pony agreed. "But he is looking for the gemstones, mostly because finding them may lead him to the friends of Avelyn Desbris."

"That I do not doubt," said Belster, "though it may be more than an extension of the search for you and Nightbird. I am not liking much the rumbling I am hearing from St. Precious - or from Chasewind Manor, since that is where the new bishop has taken up residence."

Dainsey returned then, singing a happy tune - and Pony wished that she still had such melodies within her - and the two went quiet. A bit of powder, a bit of grayish paste on Pony's fair face, and the woman stepped back to admire her work.

"Belster's wife?" Pony asked, hopping from the stool and turning slowly, arms out that they might regard her fully.

"Ho, but I like you better the other way!" Belster said with a wry laugh - a laugh that was cut short by a knock on the door.

"Soldiers in the Way," came the hushed call of Heathcomb Mallory, another friend from the northland who worked in the Way on those few nights he was not drinking there.

"You are certain that you didnot use the stones?" Belster asked again, moving toward the door. Dainsey joined him, and the two left the room, but Pony only peeked out.

The Way bustled with a large crowd this night, as it did almost every night, but the innkeeper had no trouble in picking out the soldiers. Not only were they in their full military dress, he noted, but they carried swords at their hips. Belster immediately moved to the corner of the long bar closest to the three and started wiping it down, painting a wide smile on his face. "Gentlemen!" he called. "Rare it is that we see our protectors in here. Too rare, I say! Name your pleasure; the treat is the Way's to give!"

One of the soldiers smacked his lips and leaned on the bar. He started to speak, but another man dropped an arm across his chest to cut him short. "No pleasure," the second soldier said, "not this night."

If the first man had any intention of arguing, he dropped it when a monk of St. Precious pushed through the crowd, coming between the three sol-diers to stand facing Belster.

"You are O'Comely?" the monk asked bluntly.

"Belster O'Comely," the innkeeper replied, sounding cheerful as usual, though the lack of respect from this man barely half his age made Belster grit his teeth.

"And how did you acquire this tavern?" the monk asked. "Were you acquainted with the previous owners?"

Before Belster could respond, Dainsey came strutting by. "I give it to 'im," she declared. "And it was mine for givin', since all accounts say that the Chilichunks won't be comin' back anytime soon."

The monk studied Dainsey carefully, then turned toglance at the three soldiers.

"Oh, don't ye go thinkin' that way!" Dainsey protested. "I already been taked to yer jail three times. How many times ye got to hear that I'm not the woman what stole the stinkin' stones?"

The monk studied her once more, then looked back at his companions.

"She has been there," one of the soldiers admitted, and his blush showed that he had been one of the many to "interrogate" Dainsey.

"Some of the precious gemstones have been stolen?" Belster asked inno-cently, looking at Dainsey as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

The monk eyed him intently.

"There was a man and a woman up north said to have some magic about them," Belster admitted, for he knew that the tales of Nightbird and Pony and their exploits were common Palmaris stories by now, certainly ac-counts that the Bishop and his minions would have heard.

"You are from the northland, then?" the monk asked.

"Caer Tinella," Belster lied, thinking that tying himself to Dundalis might be too close for comfort. "Thought to go back there, too, until Miss Dainsey here offered me and my wife a new life here at Fellowship Way."

"And what do you know of this man and woman up north?" the monk asked.

Belster shrugged. "Not much. We were running south and heard that our escape from the monsters was helped by them, that is all. Never did actually see them - or I might have seen the man, though from a long dis-tance, sitting splendid atop a great black horse."

"Splendid?" the monk echoed sarcastically. "He is a thief, Master O'Comely. You should take better note of your companions."

"No companion," Belster insisted. "Just someone who helped me and many others get away from the monsters." He noted the expressions of the four men as he spoke reverently of this supposed outlaw, looks ranging from disdain to intrigue. The innkeeper took more than a little pleasure in promoting the reputation of his friend Elbryan and in sowing the seeds of doubt among the Bishop's faithful pawns.

Pony came out of the back room then, boldly walking to stand beside Belster. "Did ye offer any drinks, then?" she asked the big man, hooking his arm.

"My wife, Carralee," Belster explained.

"Ah, Father," Pony said to the monk. "Have ye any o' them wonderful stones about ye? Do ye think ye might fix me eye then? Got it all torn on the end of a goblin spear, ye know."

A sour look crossed the monk's face. "Come to the abbey," he said insin-cerely. "Perhaps one of the elders ..." He ended by waving his hand and turning away, motioning for the soldiers to follow.

"More than a bit of a chance you just took, by my measure," Belster said quietly to Pony when they had turned to go.

"Not so much of a chance," Pony replied unemotionally, as she watched the men leave. "If they had recognized me, then I would have had to kill them."

Dainsey gasped.

"And if they had invited you to go with them to St. Precious?" Belster calmly asked.

"To heal my eye? " Pony scoffed. "Not the Church that Avelyn ran away from. Not the Church that murdered my family and tortured Bradwarden. The Abellicans help when they need to help, and aid only those who might return the favor with gold or power."

The coldness in her voice sent a chill through Belster, who tried to change the subject. "And once again, we have Dainsey to thank," he re-marked, turning to the smallish woman, who curtsied rather clumsily.

"It is true, Dainsey," Pony said sincerely. "You have helped me so much since I arrived. I understand why Pettibwa and Graevis loved you."

Dainsey blushed deeply and giggled, spinning away to gather up a tray and skip to some beckoning patrons at a nearby table.

"A good girl, she is," Belster remarked.

"And that, unfortunately, will probably get her killed," said Pony.

Belster wanted to yell at the woman for her pessimism, but he could not. In the last few days, the men of the new bishop, soldiers and monks alike, seemed to be everywhere, seemed to be closing a noose about Pony, and indeed, about all of Palmaris.

The monk left Colleen and Shamus in a side room furnished only with three small chairs and a tiny hearth. No fire was lit and the cool wind moaned down the chimney.

Shamus slid into a chair, put his hands behind his head, and leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. Familiar with the ways of nobles, the cap-tain knew that this could be a long wait.

Colleen, predictably, was much more agitated, pacing back and forth, sit-ting down, then jumping back up. No matter how much noise she made, no matter how hard she stomped her heavy boots against the wooden floor, she could not get any reaction from her cousin, which, of course, only made her all the more angry and impatient.

Finally, after more than an hour, she settled down, pulling a chair against the wall, and sat staring intently at the door.

Another hour passed. Colleen began to complain, but Shamus opened one sleepy eye and reminded her that Bishop De'Unnero was now the ruler of both the secular and spiritual aspects of the city, and certainly the two of them were not his highest priority.

Colleen grumbled again and leaned back, arms crossed over her chest, jaw set firmly.

Another hour, and then another. Colleen went from sitting to pacing and back again several times. She stopped her grumbling out loud, though, for there seemed no point - Shamus was fast asleep.

Finally the door handle began to move, and Colleen sprang up, moving quickly to give Shamus a kick. He opened his eyes as the door swung in, and to their mutual surprise, it was no messenger come to fetch them but Bishop De'Unnero himself.

"Stay seated," he bade Shamus, and he motioned Colleen into her chair. The Bishop didn't sit but stood towering over them.

"You will detail for me your time in the northland," De'Unnero ex-plained. "I need not know about the monsters you have battled, nor any specifics of the environment. I am more concerned with those you might have allied with up there, particularly any warriors who might aid us should the darkness befall us once again."

"Easy question," Shamus obediently replied. "Nightbird and Pony domi-nated the forest battles."

De'Unnero laughed suddenly, amused at how easily he had uncovered the coveted information. One simple question had shown him the where-abouts of the two most wanted by the Abellican Church. "Yes, Nightbird and Pony," he purred. Now he did claim the other chair, sliding it up close. "Do tell me of those two. All about them."

Shamus looked sidelong at Colleen, his expression curious and con-cerned, as was hers, for both detected something strange in the Bishop's tone. To Colleen, it seemed almost as if the man was hungry for the infor-mation, too eager to want to know about the two heroes, given his stated reason.

"Were the two in Caer Tinella when you arrived?" De'Unnero pressed Shamus. "Or did they arrive subsequent?"

"Both," the soldier answered honestly. "The two were in the northland long before us, but they were not actually in Caer Tinella when my soldiers arrived."

"Until..." the anxious Bishop pressed.

Shamus brought his hand to his chin, trying to remember his first encounter with Nightbird and his beautiful companion. He couldn't remember the exact date but knew that it was sometime around the turn of Calember.

De'Unnero pressed him repeatedly, and now it was obvious to the per-ceptive soldiers that the man had more interest in these two than as possible future allies.

Finally, the Bishop had heard enough of the timing of the first meeting and began pressing Shamus, and then Colleen, more pointedly about the demeanor of the pair. He even asked about a centaur - had one been seen? -  and when Shamus replied that he had heard rumors of such a crea-ture but had not seen it himself, De'Unnero was positively gleeful.

"Wait, but wasn't it a man-horse that yer monk fellows, the trouble-makin' caravan from St.-Mere-Abelle, dragged through Palmaris?" Colleen asked.

"You would be wise to take care how you refer to my holy brethren," De'Unnero warned, but he brightened quickly as he turned the subject back to the fugitives. "And these two, Nightbird and Pony, are in Caer Tinella still?"

"There or just north of the place," Shamus admitted. "They were to lead a caravan to the Timberlands, though that was scheduled to go near the turn of spring."

"Interesting," De'Unnero mused, stroking his chin, his eyes taking on a distant look. He got up from his chair then, holding his hand out to keep the two from doing likewise, and started for the door. "You are dismissed," he explained. "Go back to your quarters and tell no one - no one, do you hear? - of this discussion."

And then he was gone, leaving a very perplexed Shamus and Colleen sit-ting in the chairs.

"So yer friend an' his girl are outlaws o' the Church," Colleen remarked after a lengthy pause. "There's a kick in the gut for ye!"

Shamus didn't reply, just kept looking nervously in the direction of the door.

"And what're ye to do?" Colleen asked him, standing up and practically pulling him out of the chair.

Regaining his composure, Shamus straightened his jacket and squared his shoulders. "We do not know anything of the sort," he said firmly. "Not once did the Bishop indicate that Nightbird and Pony were outlaws."

"Ah, but there's the little matter of the centaur," Colleen remarked, obvi-ously enjoying her smug cousin's distress. "The centaur labeled as outlaw by the Church, taken by the Church, and then taken back from the Church. Seems yer friends might be a part o' all that. So what's Captain Shamus o' the Kingsmen to do?"

"I will serve my King," he answered coolly, starting for the door, "and you shall do the same."

"Yer King - or the Bishop?" Colleen asked, falling in step beside him.

"The Bishop speaks for the King," was his curt reply.

Colleen slowed down and let him move away from her, studying him carefully. She recognized the clear distress in his every move and thought that Shamus, with his blind devotion, deserved a bit of discomfort. He had developed an honest liking and deep respect for both Nightbird and Pony, she knew, and was now having a hard time swallowing the notion that the two were not all that they had seemed - or, perhaps, that the two were much more than they had seemed.

For Colleen, the feelings came more from the gut. It did not bother her at all that Nightbird was an outlaw in the eyes of Bishop De'Unnero. In fact, her respect for the man and for Pony as well was increased. She was a sol-dier of the Baron, not the King, and since her beloved Baron had been at odds with the Church right before his death, the startling changes in Palmaris were not at all to her liking.

Any trouble that Nightbird and his friend might cause would please her greatly, she thought with a smirk.

For Shamus, the meeting with De'Unnero had left thoughts much more troubling. In the stories the folk of Caer Tinella had told him about the ranger, and in the time he had spent beside Nightbird, he had seen only good in the man, a true hero to the beleaguered folk of the northland. Surely there was some mistake here; surely the man could be no outlaw!