Placing his palms on the stone rim of the pond, the king gathered the magic he needed, and again focused the spell through the pond. Once more, the water grew opaque and the bottom of the pond disappeared.

  As the wizardess’s room returned to view, the king twisted the magic to better suit his purpose. In a few short breaths, he no longer looked through the pool at Alessia’s sleeping face, but gazed directly down at the woman from beside her bed.

  She, however, was not the focus of Walshira’s interest, and the king turned away from her, aware of his hands still on the pool’s edge, anchoring his body to one place, while he projected himself half way across the city.

  The god wanted to see the woman’s apprentices, and he had no difficulty turning away from her somnolent form toward the door leading to the room across the hall. His semi-transparent boots made no sound on the wooden floor ostensibly beneath them, and the closed door proved to be even less of a barrier than it had been when he’d walked through it with the Tillerman.

  Passing a desk by the door, he glanced down, the contents of the parchment sheets spread across its surface catching the god’s attention.

  “Make sure that is brought to the palace,” Walshira instructed.

  “I’ll have the captain collect it when he arrests them,” the king replied, feeling the god’s approval as he continued through the wall.

  He was about to enter the room where the two female apprentices slept, when the god directed him further down the hall.

  “There is more power, this way,” Walshira observed, his need seeping into the king’s conscience.

  Puzzled at what could have drawn the god’s attention, Andreus obeyed. Under the god’s direction, he stepped through the wall a few steps along, finding himself standing in the middle of a cot situated on the other side.

  The young woman sleeping on it didn’t stir as the king’s knees passed through her middle, and he hastily adjusted the spell so he stood on the bed, feet set on either side of her.

  “This,” the god murmured, as, beside the pool, Andreus swayed.

  The spell was failing, the power available waning dangerously fast.

  Andreus pressed his fingers into the pool’s rim, forcing himself to stay exactly where he was.

  “Examine her,” Walshira instructed, and Andreus bit back his protest to do as the god wished.

  It took a little more power to send a tendril of thought into the girl.

  “More,” the god urged, and Andreus felt the first stirrings of its hunger.

  Not that he could blame the god; the young woman’s power was strong, her youth vital. He probed a little further, and suppressed a sigh. Her very essence was as ripe for the plucking as any who had graced his altar, and the god’s hunger rose.

  “I must have her,” Walshira instructed. “Let us divine what kind of power she wields.”

  As Andreus shifted the spell to obey, movement from the other side of the room caught his attention. Glancing over, he saw a young boy sitting bolt upright in bed, staring at him.

  Hastily withdrawing the tendril, he took a closer look at the child.

  Young for an apprentice, he thought, guessing the boy’s age to be around ten summers.

  “He sees us,” Walshira warned, and the king stared at the child in shock.

  No-one was supposed to be able to see them!

  A closer look at the boy belied that thought.

  The child stared at them, sitting bolt upright, his eyes wide with surprise.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, stepping off the bed, and sliding a pace to the right.

  The boy turned his head, suspicion starting to color his gaze.

  Andreus slid a pace to the left and, again, the child’s head shifted to follow him. This time, the boy raised his hands in a warding gesture and Andreus could no longer deny it.

  He had been seen!

  Smoothing his expression into one of welcome, Andreus forced a smile and extended his hand toward the boy. The child’s expression shifted from suspicious curiosity to stark fear, and he dove for the floor, his shriek of alarm shattering the room’s quiet stillness.

  “Varan?” The girl pushed back her covers, frowning as though something was wrong.

  “Varan?” she repeated. “You all right?”

  A whimper greeted her, and the king stepped hastily back through the wall, allowing himself to drop out of the scry and into his own body. Walshira snarled in frustration inside his head.

  “Do you know how talented that child is to have been able to see you through that scry?” the god demanded. “Such power…and potential…”

  “My lord…” Andreus began, thinking to calm the irritated deity.

  “And I didn’t even get a taste!”

  Andreus relaxed. Well, at least he understood the source of the god’s frustration. He hurried to soothe him.

  “But you will, my lord. You very much will.”

  A shiver rippled through him, fatigue making his legs feel like jelly.

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  “My lord,” he began, to draw the god’s attention to his plight.

  They had pushed the spell too far, the magic drawing on his own energy reserves when it could draw on nothing else. The world shuddered, and a wave of dizziness passed over him.

  Andreus leaned forward until the world steadied, once more. This time, he let his knees buckle, coming to kneel beside the pool and leaning his forehead on the wall that surrounded it. The weakness flooding through him meant only one thing; the god needed replenishing.

  It wasn’t the magic drawing on his life’s essence; it was the god. Walshira’s desperate need for more power seemed to be momentarily blinding him to the necessity of keeping Andreus alive. Gritting his teeth, Andreus fought to stay conscious as another wave of dizziness threatened to engulf him.

  “I have orders to give, lord,” he said, forcing himself to picture the young woman and the boy of astonishing power. “If I do not, they could yet escape you.”

  The idea he could lose such prey, brought Walshira’s hunger to sudden abeyance. Andreus breathed a soft sigh of relief, knowing the god’s own greed had done what begging for his mercy would not; he would get to live a little longer.

  “I need to reach the captain in charge of raiding her home,” the king reminded the god. “Help me?”

  It was a risk, since it would draw on the god’s already diminished reserve of power, but if Andreus was to secure Walshira the prey he desired, it was a risk he had to take.

  “They will be before you by tomorrow night,” he promised, adding, “And I can find others to restore you while you wait.”

  He felt the last tiny draining cease, and stepped away from the pool. Signaling one of the guards, he gave the orders, emphasizing the need for urgency, before turning slowly toward the exit that would take him to his quarters.

  Accepting the aid of the guard that came alongside, Andreus continued toward his chambers. As he went, he brought to mind the faces of those already in the temple’s cells, but Walshira couldn’t be led. After being tantalized by the wizardess and her charges, Walshira was hungry for just one thing.

  Sensing his deity’s preference, Andreus sighed.

  “It shall be done,” he promised, reaching the sitting room in his chambers.

  The guards gave him worried looks as he stepped away from their support, and Andreus forced a smile.

  “I’ll send for food and some…company,” he assured them, as his valet appeared from within his suite, “And my recovery will be swifter for it.”

  A brief twitch of the guards’ lips showed their understanding, and they turned back to take their places on either side of the door. Andreus turned back to his personal servant.

  “Call Mistress Tamara,” he instructed, “and send to the kitchens. Have them send their best cheeses, sweetbreads, wine and pastries.”

  “At once, Sire.” His valet bowed his head and quickly left.

  Andreus made his way to the divan set along one wall, sinking gratefully onto it, then settling himself comfortably among the cushions. Walshira descended, nibbling at the edge of his essence, and Andreus begged the god’s patience, promising a magic-wielder’s terror and blood.

  The god’s demands faded, but the deity remained, hovering at the edge of the king’s conscience, and Andreus knew he wouldn’t wait for long. It was a relief, when the soft scent of lilacs reached his nostrils.

  The scent was accompanied by quiet footsteps and the arrival of the women’s mistress.

  “Your Majesty,” she said, by way of greeting, returning the king’s assessing gaze.

  He wasted no time with his request.

  “I need to see the brightest of your girls,” he told her, as she came to kneel at his feet. He continued when she raised a curious face toward him. “Any who show the slightest hint of magic, or special talent, regardless of the field.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise.

  “Magic, your Majesty?” she asked, “But I thought you said—”

  “I know what I said!” the king snapped, cutting her off. “And, now, I do want to see any gifted with such things.”

  Stunned by his reprimand, she bowed her head. “Yes, your Majesty.”

  Andreus studied her, then added, “How many do you think you have?”

  The mistress hesitated, keeping her gaze on the floor. When she didn’t answer, Andreus reached forward, cupping her chin in his hand and lifting her face so she had to meet his eyes.

  “How many?” he repeated.

  “We have yet to test them, your Majesty,” she admitted.

  Andreus narrowed his eyes.

  “How many?” he snarled, hearing Walshira’s tones in his voice.

  The mistress heard them, too, because she closed her eyes.

  “I suspect six…your Majesty,” she answered, her voice subdued, the words unwilling.

  “You will bring them…and only them…to me,” Andreus instructed.

  “And the others?” the mistress asked.

  “Gather them together,” he replied. “If I need them, I will call.”

  He waved for her to go, and she rose slowly to her feet, backing away from him and bowing as she went.

  “As your Majesty instructs.”

  He inclined his head, admiring the curve of her hips and the bend of her waist, as she turned and walked away. The return of his valet blocked his view and he stifled a sigh of regret.

  The fact the man was pushing a trolley of covered trays saved him from reprimand, and the smell of meat and pastry took all the anger from his thoughts.

  Hunger set the kings’ limbs atremble, and he sat straighter, swallowing against the sudden flood of saliva as the valet lifted the lid on the first tray.

  “Make him the first of three.”

  The king startled at the sound of Walshira’s voice.

  “This one?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he accepted a plate of pastries from the valet.

  “He has Talent you have never suspected,” Walshira replied, and the king felt the lick of the god’s avaricious wanting stroke the inside of his mind. That desire grew stronger as the deity added, “He will go a long way to sating my hunger.”

  Lifting the first meat-filled pastry to his mouth, the king studied his valet. The valet waited for his next order, standing respectfully to one side, head bowed. Keeping his movements slow and languorous, the king reached over and pulled a dangling tassel of red and gold.

  The valet had seen him pull that tassel before. He had heard the summoning bells toll in the temple below the palace floors. Catching the movement, despite his lowered gaze…and hearing the muffled toll, he raised his head in horror.

  “Your Majesty?” he began, but the priests were quick to answer and the wall beside the king’s couch slid back to reveal the six, dark-cowled figures answering his summons.

  They’d reached the valet before he’d had time to take more than a step away from the king.

  Andreus fixed him with a stern stare, before intoning, “The god has spoken and you have been chosen.”

  Two priests stepped forward to flank the man, taking a firm grip on his arm and turning him toward the temple entrance, making him gasp. A second gasp followed and they looked toward it.

  The women’s mistress stood in the doorway to the royal chambers, a girl on either side of her.

  “Come in,” the king ordered, but they didn’t move, clearly torn between obedience and flight.

  Before they could decide on either, Walshira intervened.

  The king felt the god uncoil a hidden reserve of power.

  “They must not be allowed to leave,” the deity hissed, and Andreus relayed his order.

  “Take them!”

  The priests moved before the women could react, seizing the women’s mistress along with her girls.

  “We will take them all,” Walshira reiterated.

  “Take all of them,” the king added, as the Mistress Tamara opened her mouth to protest.

  The priests moved past the king, each one seizing someone, as more appeared from the temple below to join them. In very short order, the valet, the women’s mistress and six young ladies of the court were being dragged past.

  Andreus watched them go, feeling Walshira’s joy as curious tendrils power licked out to invade the minds and souls being taken below. He hoped at least some of them were suitable, and that the dark god’s hunger would be sated.

  “All are suitable,” Walshira assured him. “We will feast, and we will be sated.”

  The god’s happiness spilled over into the king’s emotions, but the urgency that came with it had him rising from the divan and seizing two pastries after sweeping a dozen more into the pockets of his robe.

  Raising the first small pie to his mouth, Andreus hurried to follow the priests through the wall, passing the one waiting by the lever to close to portal behind him. Andreus bit through flaky pastry and savored the filling, as he planned the ceremony to feed his god.

  “Do not tarry,” Walshira urged, and the king laughed.

  A small despairing sob echoed up from the stairs, and his lips curved in a predatory smile.

  “Your wish is my desire,” he assured the god.