“And you still have not answered my question.”

“The ships are from your uncle. As for your next question-why they have come? Can you not guess?”

“Is Belyn here?”

“I did not say that.”

“You say little enough, it seems to me.”

“Think! What year is this?”

“What year?” Charis looked mystified. “It is the Year of the Ox.”

“What year?”

“Why, 8556 years since the world began.”

“Bah!” The seer made a face. “Leave me.”

“Oh, Annubi!” Charis tugged his sleeve. “Tell me! I do not know what answer you want.”

“It is the seventh year”

“A council year!”

“A council year, yes, but more precisely, a seventh council.”

The significance eluded Charis momentarily. She gazed at Annubi blankly.

“Oh, leap into the sea and be done with it!”

“The seventh seven.” It came to her then. “The Great Council!” she gasped.

“Yes, the Great Council. Very astute, Princess,” he mocked.

“But why should my uncle come because of the Great Council?” Charis wondered.

Annubi lifted his thin shoulders in a shrug. “Some things are better studied in private before airing in public, I suppose. Belyn and Avallach are close-as close as two brother kings may be. But kings they are, and who can fathom the heart of a king?”

“Is there trouble between our people and Belyn’s?”

“I have told you all I know.”

“Oh, when did you ever part with more than the least little kernel from your vast store?”

The seer smiled wickedly. “A little uncertainty keeps everyone awake.”

They had reached the entrance to the great hall. Two palace ushers stood before the huge polished cedar doors. Upon Annubi’s approach one of them snapped to attention and pulled on a braided cord; the door swung open soundlessly. The seer turned and said, “Enough kingcraft for today. Go back to your dreams, Charis.” He entered the great hall. The door closed and Charis was left outside to wonder what was going on within.