Everyone knew that the Keep wizard's pupil was the lady's lover and the father of the child she carried, but it was a matter seldom mentioned; the religious teachings of a less desperate age died hard.

"You're going to have to go down there, you know," Alde said in time. "Now?"

Their eyes met, and she rested her free hand briefly on the swell beneath her gown. "I think so," she said matter-of- factly. "It's the second or third time he's been up here, demanding that something be done about slunch. He has a lot of influence in the Settlements, not with the nobles, but with the hunters, and some of the farmers. If he broke away from Keep rule, he'd probably turn bandit himself. The child isn't due for another two months, you know."

Rudy knew. Though he'd helped to birth dozens of babies in the five years he'd been Ingold's pupil, the thought of Alde being brought to bed while the master wizard was still on the road somewhere terrified him. With Alde, it was different.

The Lady of the Keep. The widow of the last High King. Tir's mother. The mother of the child that would be his.

The thought made him shiver inside, with longing and joy and a strange disbelief. He'd be a father. That child inside her-inside the person he most loved in the whole of his life, the whole of two universes-was a part of him.

Involuntarily-half kiddingly, but half not-he thought, Poor kid. Some gene pool. And yet...

Under the all-enveloping bulk of her quilted silk coat she barely showed, even this far along. But she had the glowing beauty he'd seen in those of his sisters who'd married happily and carried children by the men who brought them joy. Ingold had early taught him the spells that wizards lay upon their consorts to keep them from conceiving, but she had pleaded with him not to use them. Nobody in the Keep talked about their lady carrying a wizard's child, but even Bishop Maia, usually tolerant despite the Church's official rulings, had his misgivings. "It can't wait till Ingold gets back?"