hould not have killed the Utalian, majesty. If it is ordained
that a living man and a living woman accompany the Prince's body to
the Place of the Dead, to die there with him, their spirits serving
him in death, why choose from among the palace staff? We all have
family, we all have friends, we all stand something to lose. But
majesty, if you were to break with tradition, if you were to send
instead two strangers whose loss meant nothing to the palace, the
palace staff would love and revere you even more than they already
do."

* * * * *

Volna's beautiful face smiled at him. He did not know what she was
thinking. He never knew. No one did. She might reward him or have him
slain on the spot. "Why do you tell me this, Prokliam?" she asked.

"For saving me when it was thought I would accompany--"

"No. There must be another reason."

"If you do this deed and if the palace and the people love you for it,
and if the scepter of power should slip from Bontarc's hand to yours,
and if, when it came time to select your prime minister...."

"Ha! Ha! Ha! We have an ambitious palace butler."

"But surely you--"

"Yes, Prokliam. I understand. I won't deny it. Perhaps I had the
Utalian slain impetuously. But there's still the girl."

"I'll fetch her at once, majesty."

"And if," mused Volna, no longer aware of the seneschal's presence,
"we could find another stranger, a man, to accompany the body of
Prince Jlomec on the Journey of No Return, not only the palace, but
the people as well would love me. A stranger...."

"Take me to your King," Bram Forest told the palace guard.

The guard smirked. "Do you think any stranger in the realm is granted
an audience with King Bontarc, fool?"

"It is a matter of life and death."

"But whose life and death?" demanded the guard, roaring with laughter.
"Yours, idiot?"

"It is about Ylia the Wayfarer."

"I know of no Ylia the Wayfarer. Begone, dolt!"

"It is about Prince Jlomec."

The guard's eyes narrowed. The word had been passed by no less a
person than Prokliam the seneschal that anyone with information
concerning the death of the royal Prince should be brought at once not
to Bontarc but to Princess Volna. Could the guard, could he, Porfis,
do less?

"Very well," he said. "Come with me."

Unarmed, but aware of his giant's strength and the mission which had
seen him spend the first hundred years of his life in a crypt on
Earth, Bram Forest