"We got word that things had changed in Eslen."

"And so they did," Anne replied. "The usurper is fled, and I have taken the throne my father meant me to have." She smiled thinly. "Did you think you would be unwelcome?"

"That occurred to my liege," Harriot admitted.

"Have your companions returned to z'Irbina, then?"

"No, Majesty. We have been waiting."

"For what?"

"For you."

Her eyebrows lifted, but she didn't say anything.

"You're an unusual queen," Harriot went on. "You personally led the invasion of Eslen castle. Since taking the crown, you have managed a number of these visits to interfere with the resacaratum. We thought that given your pattern, our friend Praecum here would eventually prove irresistible."

"Well, you were right about that," Anne said. "So this was all a trap, then."

"Yes, Majesty. And now you are surrounded. I urge you to surrender to my custody, and I promise you will not be harmed."

"Not until I've been convicted of shinecraft, you mean?"

"That I cannot speak to."

Praecum had regained a little color. "You were serious, Sir Harriot! The saints are with us. Forty-nine knights-"

"Each with a guard of ten, all mounted," Harriot finished.

"That makes…" Praecum's lips moved silently. "Five hundred."

"Yes," Harriot replied.

Anne smiled. "How convenient that I brought two thousand, then."

Harriot felt his heart all but stop in his chest.

"Majesty?"

"This was indeed a trap, Sir Harriot," she said. Something tightened around her eyes, and then she reached forward so that the heel of her hand came against his forehead.

He felt the bones in his skin go suddenly heavy and febrile. He fell to his knees, but she did not release the contact. His skin everywhere stung, his lungs seemed full of flies. And in his head…

He saw St. Abulo's host in their camp, waiting for the morning, some sleeping, some on watch. He seemed to be one of the watchmen, suddenly crushed by this same black torpor, and he watched, uncaring, as nimble shadows slipped into the camp, slitting the throats of the sleeping and waking alike. Some woke and managed to fight, but it wasn't long before all five hundred were dead. The eyes he watched through dimmed, and he felt himself dragged along as if by a swift river, and screamed…