"You'll need to start by establishing your reputation. Well, not that exactly. Establishing it on an even higher pedestal than it is now. And, in the process, gaining the unquestioned loyalty of a major army."

She sighed. "Which means, of course, leading a campaign against the Southron barbarians. The same ones Adrian and his brother have been stirring up against us these past few months."

Demansk started to interrupt, but Helga waved him down. "Please, Father! Daughter of Vanbert. We do what we must." He could see her fighting back the tears. "If you can manage not to kill him, I would. . appreciate that. Immensely. But you must do what you must."

* * *

And so, in the end, Demansk was able to restore the proper relationship between Vanbert father — patriarch unquestioned — and his impudent female offspring.

"Idiot girl," he growled. "Do not think you can teach strategy to your father. Spirit and courage, yes; maneuvers, no." He grinned. "Not even close."

He came to his feet like a young man, almost springing. "Idiot!" he repeated. "No, I think we'll leave your precious Adrian alone for a bit. He and his ferocious brother Esmond both. Let them stir up the Southrons and gather the forces of barbarism against us. All the better. When the time comes, that will turn the last lock."

Helga's eyes were as wide as her son's, and just as vaguely focused. Demansk was delighted to see how the wise father had left the cocksure daughter fumbling in the mist.

"Ha! Lecture your father on strategy, now, would you? No, no, girl. Adrian's for a later time. For the moment — I'm off to the Isles."

His own humor faded, replaced by an odd combination of emotions. Cold fury, overlaying a much deeper core of affection.

"I'll get your vengeance on your pirates, Daughter," he said softly, icily. "And then. ."

Warmth began to return to his voice. "We'll see about Adrian Gellert. He's playing his own very intricate game, be sure of it. When the time comes, I won't be surprised to see him playing with the son he's never met."