A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter One

Conrad Kingslynn winced as he waded into yet another icy mountain stream. It was the third day of Spring, and although the ground was fairly warm, the water was painfully cold as it flooded over his bare feet and ankles. He thought of his daughter as he mounted the opposite bank and turn'd to Harriet.

"Will it hurt?" he askt, forging ahead in the knowledge that the aching cold which so rudely punctuated the calming pleasure of their woodland walk would pass in a few steps.

"Will what hurt?" demanded Harriet impatiently.

"The dye, of course" Conrad reply'd, trying to read a face that lookt even more narrow and sharp featured at 37 than it had at 19. Visiting Harriet had always given him a sense of looking Time in the face. Harriet's hair had acquired a bit more grey than his had, but her body was, if anything, in better shape than when they had fought together under the Regnalka. Conrad was thankfull that he had had Harriet Bronwynn for a sister and even more thankfull that Paula now had her for an aunt.

"Patrician blue? Over fresh bare feet? No! It's only bleaching that hurts. All she'll feel is a slight tingle. Well...I guess if you're a real ninny it might sting a little; but shit -- it sure looks nice!" Harriet lookt down admiringly at her own bare, royal blue feet, shifting the weight of the right one back onto the heel so that she could wriggle her long, sensuous, -- and deliciously azure -- toes with pride. She and Sarah had polisht and gilded each others nails only the night before. Tonight the Lengna would be gilding Paula's for the first time.

"You do like to cuss when you speak English, don't you?" observed Conrad with a smile. The forest floor felt soft and warm and dry now. It was a carefree, barefoot, earthy feeling -- a feeling that he could get lost in. He was glad that they had chosen to go for a walk -- and glad that Harriet was leading the way.

"It's a cussèd language." She shrug'd. "It's fun though," she giggled, "in a really stupid way. I mean -- even if you grew up with it -- once you're used to the Changeless Speech English sounds like such an appalling chaos. It's -- it's like Sarah's bedroom." Harriet laught out loud. Sarah Inwater was the messiest thing on two bare feet -- or at the very least on blue ones. If Harriet did not pick up after her, their entire suite would become unlivable within two days. She shook her head and smiled fondly.

"How is Sarah?" askt Conrad.

"Fat as a pig," reply'd Harriet flatly "and she huffs and puffs and turns bright red if you mention it to her." Harriet felt guilty now, so she added, "What can she do though, poor dear, with that bad shoulder. She still needs the sling, you know. All she ever does is eat and paint...."

"And try to tempt Harriet into misbehaving?" presumed Conrad, instantly regretting his presumption.

"No, Conrad, Sarah's not like that." reply'd Harriet sternly, "That only happen'd once -- the night of that shamefull celebration at Simontisten....Damn!" She shook her head. "We could sin that way every night if we wanted to. There is a part of her that wants that. Maybe there's a part of me that wants that too. No one would know -- just she and I and God. That's just the point though. We're both Christians and we're both Katharinians, and those things mean more to us than any naughty little pleasures. Don't worry, Conrad, I wouldn't take your daughter under a dirty wing. I want her to make the very best of her choice to become a Katharinian.

"So do I" said Conrad, embracing and kissing the Katharinian he call'd "sister."

Harriet patted the top of his foot with her azure toes -- the Katharinian blessing.

They walkt a while in silence before Conrad spoke again. "Harriet," he began with some hesitation, "I'm afraid there's something else troubling me -- something far more serious."

"These are troubling times." she acknowledged, guessing at his concerns and encouraging him to continue.

"Those damn whores in Leonisa -- do you think they're making a play for the throne?"

"The Regnalka certainly thinks so" reply'd Harriet, "and I've never had reason to doubt her judgement."

"Are there any developments I should know about?"

"As Paula's father or as the Emperor's adviser?"

"Perhaps as someone who loves the Regnalka as much as you do." ventured Conrad, taking a turn at feeling offended.

Harriet toucht his hand in apology. "Well, we've all been doubting whether the 1st Regnalka died of natural causes, but I'm sure the Emperor has also wonder'd aloud about that."

"Yes," affirm'd Conrad, "and so have I. What's more, there's been a lot of talk about the implications. I'm well aware that there are only three steps between our own beloved Regnalka and... -- I'd like to say the throne, but I'm afraid perhaps a rather nasty civil war...." He bit his lip and nodded for a moment. "Silvia is 1st Regnalka now, then her sister Rhoda, and then old Vrsula. Right? She must be at least eighty now, if memory serve me."

"Better than it serves her." reply'd Harriet frowning. "She's eighty-one in fact. Her birthday was only a few days ago."

"People have lived longer" observed Conrad.

"Indeed they have," answer'd Harriet wryly "and I have a feeling that Vrsula will live long enough -- probably just long enough -- to come to the throne."

"What are you telling me, Harriet?" askt a confused Conrad. "I thought she was well respected."

"Very well respected." admitted Harriet sadly, "She probably never did a wrong thing in her Life. The trouble is that of late she's been getting a bit soft in the head, and someone has been filling that head with some very dangerous ideas"

"How do you mean?"

"Do you remember Vulpecula?"

"The one who murder'd her two aunts during the war? Yes, I remember the story. Didn't you assist at her execution?"

"I had that pleasure," said Harriet, looking away, "and I'm sure you do remember the story, but now someone is trying to change it, or at least Vrsula's memory of it. In any case, Vrsula is now convinced that her precious grand niece was innocent and that Margarita actually committed both murders to advance herself."

"Our Regnalka?" gaspt Conrad, "That's ridiculous! What does the Sovereign Mother think of all this?"
"Well, I haven't exactly had an audience with her myself lately, but the Regnalka says that Alexandra is quite sure that Michæla and Patricia are behind it."

"Hm, who else?" snorted Conrad, "I still can't imagine what Her Majesty was thinking about when she gave them regiments to command!"

Harriet shook her head and smiled knowingly. "Aging, run down regiments," she reminded him "with senior officers totally loyal to Alexandra herself. No, that was a clever move on her part. Unfortunately Michæla and Patricia are clever too -- very clever -- too clever so far for anyone to catch them up. I'm afraid they make the Palace a rather dangerous place."

"May I ask a question now," ventured Harriet, after another space of silence, "seeing as I've been so open with you? What's the Emperor's position on all this? Now that the old Empress has return'd to Katharintisten to live as a widow in the Palace, many of us have wonder'd if he is trying to distance himself from his mother -- and from his sister."

"As to Thelma's return to Katharintisten," answer'd Conrad, "I would think it rather natural after the old Emperor's death. After all she is a Bhozetsa, and her daughter is the Sovereign Mother. As to my lord the Emperor, I can assure you that he is very concern'd about developments here, both for the safety of his own mother and sister and for the future of the house of Bhozetsa and the Katharinian throne."

"He has try'd to purge his court of Katharinian influence though, has he not?" prest Harriet.

"Everyone in Iohanetisten has always loved the Empress and respected Katharinian customs," reply'd Conrad carefully. We also realize that those customs do not blend very well with our own Imperial customs. They are simply best kept separate --- for the good of both realms."

"We also realise?" Harriet mockt him. "You have one foot in each realm, don't you?" She placed her bare foot atop his, pinning his toes to the ground in a gesture which was not intended as the Katharinian blessing.

"Both my feet are shod in Iohanetisten," corrected Conrad, yet would I never set a shod foot on Katharinian soil. I served in that disastrous regiment of Timothy's. I know better than any the importance of keeping the two realms separate, but I hope always to see them coöperating -- as brother and sister."


Paula went to the vats that evening, and knew the proudest moment of all her sixteen years as the Regnalka fasten'd round her neck the golden gorgett that markt the end of her novitiate. She could smell the pungent patrician blue dye that ever so slightly stang the tops of her toes even as it sanctify'd them forever as those of a Katharinian. The Regnalka came round and stood next to Harriet in front of her, both looking tall and proud in their white tunics and full dress armour. Paula sat barebreasted under her new gorgett, in token of the rule that bound her never again to be seen without it unless she were otherwise completely naked. Placing her hand on this 1st and most sacred part of her panoply, she sware the oath that made her at last a Bhozamaga. A nude Læng came and drain'd the vat and flush'd the excess dye from the young patricians azure feet. Another wrapt her in a dressing gown and took her off to bathe her. The Lengna vested her in the tight blue trousers and under top appropriate to her rank and a clean white tunic, reädjusted her gorgett and set to work on her feet, shaping, gilding, and polishing her nails to the most perfect standard of Katharinian pedicure. Then they led her off to another room where she stood with several others whose feet had just been dyed in the colours of various lesser ranks. (Not everyone's parentage permitted her to enter the order as a patrician.)

Harriet having holpen her on with the rest of her armour, the Regnalka herself unfolded a beautifull blue mantle, which she button'd to the shoulder studs of Paula's gorgett, as she embraced and kist her, and set purple toes atop blue ones in the Katharinian blessing. Then, producing in each case a mantle of the appropriate shade of green, she did the same for each of the newest members of her regiment.

The regimental reception lasted most of the night.


Another party awaited Paula the next morning. Harriet and Sarah, none too sober themselves, arose reluctantly to the task of seeing to it that the guest of honour got there. They enter'd Paula's room to find her atop her bed. She was lying on her back, fully armourd; mouth agape in a drunken stupor.

After an exchange of pessimistick glances, Harriet ventured the 1st opinion: "Let's strip her and get her in the tub."

"She's not sober enough for that." countered Sarah, "For that matter, neither am I. Let's just take her along as she is."

"I suppose you're right." conceded Harriet. "It's not very nice though: She'll probably smell of drink."

"No worse than we, and we haven't got time to bathe either, so don't even think about it. Come on, let's wake her up." said Sarah, taking hold of a toe and shaking it. "Ach! Slept in her greaves! Can you imagine?" she exclaim'd as Paula continued snoring.

"Yes -- well -- we'd better get ours on -- if you can find yours." snorted Harriet.

"Belts too?" question'd Sarah uncomfortably.

"Well, I'm wearing mine. I suppose you can go without -- fat slob -- but at least try to find yourself a tunic that hasn't got paint on it. We want the Kingslynns to see what Katharinians look like.

"Oh! Well! Maybe you could go in your working outfit: bare tits and that blood red skirt -- oh yes -- and you must carry your sword! Paula's mother would just love that."

"Very funny. Come on. Let's get ourselves ready. With any luck, she might be awake when we get back to her" said Harriet finally.

They had no such luck, but rather return'd to find that they virtually had to carry Paula as they walkt her along between them, and Sarah -- having only one good arm -- was not all that much help.

<<Paula, please!>> protested Harriet in the Changeless Speech, <<Thy parents! What will they think if they see thee like this?>>

"I doubt if Paula...." began Sarah thoughtlessly in English, before she felt a sudden pain in her left calf. The sharp toenails, as well as the accompanying cough, had, she realised, been Harriet's, and she marvel'd that the more agile supporter had been able to bring a bare foot round behind Paula's barely moving legs to land so accurate a blow. Sarah was not so drunk as to mistake the meaning. She had no business speaking English in Paula's presence. She and Harriet had been born in the Parent World -- as had Conrad -- but Paula had been born in this world whither Andrew had brought them; and it was both Conrad's personal wish, and Andrew's admonition, that she should never hear anything but the Changeless Speech. Although their origins were known to Paula, Sarah and Harriet forbare to discuss the Parent World at all in her presence. Sarah wonder'd how difficult it had been for Conrad to keep to that rule himself.

Fortunately for all of them, Harriet managed to rouse Paula to a state of relative wakefulness by the time they reacht the 1st flight of stairs. They wound their way down to the lowest basement of the Palace and into the long tunnel that past under the canal to the great Embassy of the Order of Preservers. They were glad of the tunnel's cold stone floor under their bare feet as the sensation tended to arouse them all to a better approximation of sobriety.

Arriving at last inside the Embassy, they made for the suite that had, for most of the past eighteen years, been occupy'd by Conrad's grandfather. They approacht it with some trepidation, but just before reaching the door they were met by a fair stroke of luck in the form of Nikonor, their old friend and one time teacher, who stept out only moments before they themselves would have enter'd.

Seeing the opportunity thus presented, Harriet motion'd to Sarah to hang back with Paula, while she herself ran up to intercept this somewhat surprised Preserver and walk him away towards the door of his own, immediately adjacent suite. "Nikonor" she whisper'd to him in English, "am I glad to see you! We've got a bit of a problem here with Paula. Can we talk?"

Nikonor quickly led her into the sitting room that he had 'inherited' only a few months earlier, when Andrew had been named Ambassador. The younger Preserver, whose untidiness rival'd Sarah's, now control'd an entire block of suites, including not only this one and the atrocious shambles next door to it that had been his own previous abode, but the three on the other side of the corridor, wherein Harriet and Sarah had briefly lived alongside Regis and Conrad and Tat and Halka when Andrew had first brought them to the Embassy from the Parent World eighteen years ago. Harriet was not sure she wanted to see what Nikonor had made of their old quarters, nor did she care to speculate on how long it would take him to replace Andrew's fine decor with his own brand of chaos. If the Embassy had a fire martial, Nikonor had to be near the top of his shit list.

"Ah....Could you get us some coffee?" askt Harriet sheepishly, forcing aside the equally unpleasant chaos of her own wine marinated mind to return to the problem at hand.

"Ah yes! I quite understand. Do bring her in!" invited Nikonor, glad to be of service as a coffee grower's son. "Tell me though -- why didn't you call on the Lengna to fix her up before you left the Palace?"

"I don't know: maybe I just didn't think of it: maybe I don't trust them."

"Well, I suppose I can understand that," nodded Nikonor, quickly producing a far more sobering brew than might have been had from the Embassy kitchens, and wherewith he managed, within a few minutes to bring all three girls up to a state of total wakefulness if not total sobriety.

Quite unaware of Nikonor's ministrations next door, Conrad sat on one of the long daybeds in his grandfather's sitting room next to his wife, whom he would always think of as 'big' Paula, even though their daughter was now noticeably the taller.

The elder Paula had been the only survivor of a patrician family massacred by the Lawless Hordes during the war. Prince Jacob himself had arranged their marriage shortly after the war, with the estates of her ancestors recognised as her dowry. This, to Conrad, seem'd perfectly consistent with his conviction that theirs was a match made in heaven. They had, for all of their seventeen years together, been totally faithfull to each other and totally loving.

He reacht over to take her right hand in his own as he thought how proud he was of their firstborn. The last finger of each right hand had been dyed blue during a special parents ceremony at about the same time that Paula's feet had been dyed. Conrad knew that this might cause some heads to turn in Iohanetisten -- but Ponderus II had had the same done when his daughter -- the present Sovereign Mother -- had enter'd the Katharinian Order.

At this point the only person in the room who was not a member of Conrad's own household was his grandfather, George Kingslynn, who lived in the Embassy more or less as an honourary Preserver. The old man sat by a window chatting with Regis, his son and Conrad's uncle; and watching his two great grandsons, Conradtren, who would soon be fourteen, and Peter who was just eleven, as they sat stuffing themselves in front of a long low table in the centre of the room. Nearby were their younger sisters, Margarita and Victoria, eight and five. Behind these stood Pil…r, their silent housekeeper, who had lost her tongue in a long past war in a long gone world. Simon, Conrad's coach driver and general man servant, stood in a corner gnawing some sort of sandwich.

Nikonor return'd to the reception with the three Katharinians following a few steps behind and pretended to be surprised by their arrival even as he held the door for them.

Conrad arose and turn'd towards the daughter whom he had not seen for almost two full years, but would have been quite content to await her arrival. 'Big' Paula had no such patience, however, and fairly pull'd her husband along with her as she launcht herself towards a not entirely appreciated maternal embrace. <<Look at her! She is all in armour; and those feet! O Paula, my child, how tall thou art -- and how proud! Why could we not have seen thee these two long years?">>

<<That ye might behold me now, a Bhozamaga and never more a child.>> pronounced Paula, as she withdrew from the embrace.

<<She speaketh well, beloved. Let her be. This is the day of her pride,>> said Conrad gently, putting his arm around his wife before turning again to face his daughter. <<I see that the Lengna have done their work well. Thou hast the look of a perfect bhozamaga.>> He smiled at her blue feet.

<<It was not easy,>> she said, at last able to express her pride, <<They made me sit perfectly still for the longest time, but I am pleased.>> She kist each of her parents quickly, and then hurry'd off to grab some food and pay her respects to her great grandfather and great uncle.

<<What is in thine heart today, Paula?>> askt Regis, <<Happiness I hope. I saw this day coming when thou wast yet a child, and now it has arrived. May God bless thee in thy choice and grant that thou never regret it.>>

<<Keep me in thy prayers then, uncle, for I shall need them. Indeed this gorgett called me when I was yet a child, yet I knew when it was hung upon my breast that I took upon my soul all the shame and all the sin of all who have ever disgraced it, as well as all the pride and all the glory of all who have ever worn it well. This is a fearfull thing, but I could not have chosen otherwise and yet been Paula. Canst thou understand?>>

<<Oh yes, Paula. It only pains me that I may never tell thee how well I understand,>> said Regis, <<Thou hast my blessing.>>

<<And mine,>> added her grandfather, intoning the Changeless Speech with perfection, <<I thank God that He has let me live to see this day.>>

At that moment the Ambassador himself, whom all present knew simply as Andrew, walkt through the door after a single perfunctory knock. He was follow'd by the Regnalka Margarita Bhozetsa, whose presence, although equally familiar, moved all to genuflect. The Regnalka was herself follow'd by three other quite familiar members of her regiment. First came little Halka, who alone was totally clean and in full dress. Then follow'd the enormous Olga, who gaped and belcht and lookt at the food in a way that frighten'd Conrad's younger daughters. Olga had on neither belt nor greaves and her tunic was badly stain'd with food and wine. KShena, the executioner, who was in the Katharinian sense, Harriet's 'aunt,' wore exactly the outfit that Sarah had jokingly suggested for Harriet, but although she was well past 40, the bare breasts that could be seen under her gorgett seem'd no less firm than the bare calves reveal'd behind her greaves.

<<Please forgive the embarrassment that haste has caused some of us.>> began the Regnalka rather formally. <<We had hoped to share in your joy today, but instead I must relate some rather disturbing news. The Regnalka Rhoda was found dead this morning in her sitting room. The cause of death is not yet known, possibly overindulgence, but more probably poison. The Sovereign Mother suspects murder and I suspect the same. We shall be free to visit with you here for a while, but must in any case return to the Palace at the start of the next watch. I regret that Paula must return with us as well.>> The Regnalka then sat down next to Conrad and let Paula help her off with her greaves. For the brief time that she could spend with them she intended to enjoy their company as that of friends.

* * * * *

George Kingslynn, content that he had now known the best of two quite different worlds, past on to yet another world that night.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Two

Paula stood by Sarah's side in the courtyard of the Palace, watching Harriet prepare to behead a young Læng. The Læng, by Lengsin custom, was completely naked. Harriet had mounted the scaffold with her mantle wrapt completely round her as a cloak, but now took it off and set it aside, to reveal herself wearing only her golden gorgett and the short, blood-red skirt that markt her office.

Sarah was not entirely displeased by what she saw now. It was, after all, a perfectly proper outfit -- for the scaffold -- and Harriet certainly had the body for it, but a part of her nonetheless wisht that her best friend, flat-mate, and one time lover had not taken up the quite common (but for Sarah, unfortunately, still quite provocative) habit of going barebreasted, when at ease, throughout the Summer. Sarah could well imagine how sensuous the cool chain fringe of a gorgett must feel with nothing under it, but she herself had long, pendulous breasts and a dreadfull scar over her right shoulder -- not to mention the unwholesome fantasies that shamed her every time she lookt at Harriet's gorgeous bosom. KShena, the chief executioner, seem'd to make a point of always going barebreasted, even in Winter, and KShena's influence over Harriet was something that Sarah regarded with a degree of silent resentment.

Paula, at Harriet's insistence, had try'd her hand at beheading, but had very much disliked it, for while she had always been attracted to the pageantry of Katharinian life, she was uncomfortable with any more than a quiet supporting rôle within it. She was far too modest, in several senses of the word, to be comfortable on the scaffold. Paula prefer'd to remain in full dress, and full panoply at all times. Paula thought very highly of Harriet and was very gratefull to have her for an 'aunt.' She did not, however, at least at this time, wish to spend her mornings chopping off heads, nor was this expected of her.

Lightly clasping the hand of the young eunuch priest who had just shriven her, the Læng smiled contentedly and then knelt gracefully before the block to await her death.

Paula wondered what weighty sins might have compell'd this unclad creature to hie her to the block. She wonder'd what the shriver thought. She knew what Harriet thought. Harriet thought that it was best not to think about it at all. The Lengna were a mystery to all but themselves.

Harriet gript the scaffold with her azure toes and raised herself up on them with her great sword held high above her head. A moment later she brought it down with her full strength, so that it sliced neatly through the victim's neck and embedded itself in the oaken block. Three other Lengna, equally nude, stept up onto the scaffold. One took up the severed head by a handful of long hair and held it aloft with what seem'd an odd pride before taking it away. The two others carry'd off the headless body of the sister that they had been giggling with only a short time earlier. The Lengna cared little about death and seem'd to delight in turning a beheading into a bit of perverse theatre.

Harriet drew her sword from the block and let a L‘ng cleanse it before she return'd it to her belt. Then she stept down from the scaffold and met Paula and Sarah as they walkt towards her.

<<Harriet,>> hailed Sarah happily, <<thou wilt need a tunic today.>>

<<Shall I indeed?>> laught the swordswoman, <<and why is that?>>

<<To stand before the Sovereign Mother, thou bare-breasted strumpet. She herself hath commanded our Regnalka and every patrician in her regiment to wait on her pleasure at noon today.>> answer'd Sarah.

<<Knowest wherefore?>> question'd Harriet.

<<I know not,>> reply'd Sarah,<<The Regnalka said only that we must be there, and spoke as one who knew no more herself.>>

* * * * *

Following their commander into the reception room, Harriet and her companions -- now all in full dress and full polish -- noticed that theirs was not the only regiment represented. The Regnalkana Martha and Augusta, who were Margarita's nieces, were also present with the senior officers of their own regiments, and this tended to advance the speculation that perhaps their younger cousin Philippa might now be placed in command of a regiment. Philippa was now Margarita's 1st officer -- a position that Martha and Augusta had each held in their turn.

A bell rang to announce the Sovereign Mother's arrival, and all of those assembled fell on their knees. Alexandra XVIth entered the room alone, leaving the two indigo footed attendants who had open'd the great double doors to stand on either side of them. (These were of the Regnalkana, being of the Bhozetsa family, but too distant to be accorded the rank of full Regnalkana, yet taking precedence over all other indigo level patricians.) As their Liege Lady past through their midst on her way to the sumptuous throne at the far end of the room, the kneeling Katharinians bow'd down sequentially like a great wave. Then, as she who stood in the stead of God sat down, all arose to face her.

"REGNALKÁNA, BHOZAMAGHÁNA, ORGHIBHAGJEXNA," intoned Her Magenta-footed Majesty, in the purring accent that she and most of her subjects typically gave to the Changeless Speech, -- being careful to include, by the last of these quite untranslatable vocative plurals, the half dozen patrician eunuchs who stood among the officers of Margarita's regiment, <<Commanders and Officers of my three most trusted regiments, pray with me now that God may preserve the Most Holy Order of Saint Katharine the Barefooted. Our beloved Sylvia, the First Regnalka, is dead. Her orderly found her this morning, naked, except for her gorgett, and impaled on her own sword in a most unspeakable way.>>

These words were met with muffled groans and many mouths were set agape. Silent winces crost even the most stoic faces. Poor Sarah clutcht at her crotch as though she had to pass water, and many hands shifted slightly forward in a less obvious form of the same instinctive gesture.

<<Immediately this was brought to my attention,>> she continued, <<I ordered the Regnalkana Michæla and Patricia relieved of their commands and placed under guard. I have summon'd the judicial council and await their advice.>> Sensing from the faces before her that there would soon be a demand for a discussion, she then motion'd to everyone there to file silently into the somewhat smaller room behind the great throne, where all understood that there would be much less formality, but much more security. She sign'd to her indigo footed attendants at the main doors to bolt them from the inside and then to follow her as well. When these attendants had taken up similar, but more relaxt positions just inside the likewise bolted door of the more private chamber, the Sovereign Mother sat down upon a golden cushion against the far wall. She then call'd upon Paula, who was still the youngest, to come forward and help her off with her greaves.

Paula had not expected to be so honour'd and she was flusht with pride as she reverently perform'd this small but very significant service. When she at last kist the bare soles of her liege lady's feet and set the golden greaves aside, everyone understood that all formalities had been set aside along with them.

Martha, the most zealous of the four Regnalkana present, spoke first. <<Tell us, Sovereign Mother, wherefore lettest thou those whores keep their heads even one more day? Had Phillipa IX but beheaded their accursed aunts in her time we had not had these troubles in ours.>>

<<Katharine and Elizabeth, the evil sisters whom thou hast mention'd,>> reply'd the Sovereign Mother with some restraint, <<were, as well thou knowest, banisht from the Palace by Alexandra XV, more than forty years ago. Philippa IX had no dealings with them whatever, although she foresaw, in the last days of her reign, that they would make a play for the throne in our time.>>

<<I still say that we should have dealt with them ere this!>> mutter'd the hot headed Martha, unwilling to admit that she had had things muddled.

<<That is easy to say, cousin, but while thou wast yet a child we fought a great war and lost many lives, while they in Leonisa bode their time and build their eunuch armies, sinning each day the sin of the Isidoræ.>> As if replying to far better questions than she had thus far heard, Alexandra XVI wore a most thoughtfull countenance as she continued, <<An attempt to apprehend them on their own ground would have been foolish at best and an attempt to take Leonisa by force of arms might well have proven a total disaster for us.>>

<<That may well be the case with Katherine and Elizabeth,>> acknowledged the Regnalka Augusta, pressing Martha's arguments with more composure than her elder sister had seem'd capable of shewing, <<but is it wise to let Michæla and Patricia live beyond today?>>

<<What wilt thou that I do?>> answer'd the Sovereign Mother, << Wilt thou that I bypass the Judicial Council?>> She paused and lookt sternly at her questioners. <<What of the day when we may need their favour? What of the day when we may need God's favour? What of the day when we may need the favour of our subjects? How many more like Vrsula might our enemies deceive if our justice were to come into question?>>

<<Vrsula!>> thundered the indignant Martha, <<That daft old cow should be the first beheaded! She is a worse threat to us than any other!>>

Forbarent as the monarch was, she now arose in righteous anger. <<Martha Bhozetsa,>> she thunder'd back at her young kinswoman, <<I have pray'd God night and day that thine aunt Margarita might outlive me, even so that thou might someday have my throne. I have loved thee because thou hast so far kept thyself from any sin,>> she added in praise, seeing that the young Regnalka's officers now hid their faces in shame for their commander -- and yet she continued: <<Nevertheless know this: If thou bring the blood of the righteous upon thyself, thou wilt no more be called righteous but a sinner; and as I love God I must pray that no sinfull sovereign succeed me -- therefore I shall now pray that God grant thee some measure of wisdom. The Regnalka Vrsula, of whose hoary head thou hast so boldly spoken, is the eldest of all the Regnalkana, and hath lived as pure a life as any Katharinian. Though it be true that she hath waxt foolish with age and in her foolishness hath play'd into the hands of sinners, she herself hath not sin'd. Canst thou not see that her death would bring sin on us, and that thou hast sin'd in calling for it? May God forgive thee.>> She concluded as she watcht the young Regnalka bow her head and bless herself.

<<We have yet to know,>> observed the Regnalka Margarita, speaking now for the first time, <<what should be done with Michæla and Philippa should the Judicial Council fail to convict them. Surely none of us are safe with them among us.>>

<<I shall in no case suffer them to remain among us,>> declared the Sovereign Mother. <<Convicted they shall be beheaded, yea and befooted firstly, as befitteth traitors to our order; acquitted they shall be banisht, and nevermore set their soiled feet in any land where my writ runneth.>>

The debate then gave way to total informality. Harriet, Sarah, and Paula took some food from the buffet and chatted with their own Regnalka.

Alexandra XVI chose to enjoy the buffet in silence, while the Regnalkana permitted their lieutenants to engage them in informal, though perforce rather poignant conversations. After a time, however, she rang a bell to regain their attention. She did not arise, but simply motion'd to them to be silent and spoke to them quietly from her sumptuous floor cushion: <<On the night before that glorious battle wherein she died, our late Sovereign Mother, Philippa IX, addrest the assembled hosts of our order, knowing in her heart that she would not survive the coming day. Ye are all well aware of the importance -- particularly for us today -- of that succession edict wherewith she concluded that now famous address. We must now hope and pray that the will that she exprest that day was as well the will of God, and that by His grace it may be realised now in our time.>> +[Here she blest herself.]

<<My sainted aunt also had another premonition whereof she spake only to me. She saw a dreadfull dreary darkness falling over our land as the Palace itself ran with blood in a great war between two factions of Regnalkana, and she was told that this would come to pass twenty years after her death. That time, I need not tell you, is now nigh.>> She paused and then continued: <<I shall not be the one to fight this war, for on whatever day old Vrsula dies, I shall sing the song to call the WALPTRÁ whose last meal I shall be. On that day, God willing, my reign will end and Margarita's will begin. Then the war will come. I expect that the dreadfull hosts of Leonisa -- including the monstrous eunuch hordes that the soil'd sisters have created for their perverse pleasures -- will march on Katharintisten within days. They will try to proclaim their own perverted orchidophage as Sovereign Mother -- but whether as Katharine XX or Isidora VI, I wot not.>>

<<Sovereign Mother, bereave us not!>> protested Margarita. <<That song hath not been sung since Julia sang in on the walls of Simontisten. For the love of us who love thee, sing it not now!>>

<<Nay, but sing it I must, beloved cousin,>> she reply'd, << destiny for such is my and so have I known since first I wore the crown of Alexandra the First and heard from her headstone the ghostly voice of the WALPTRÁ ALANGGHÁ. In the jaws of a WALPTRÁ must I die, and I know her name already. When the crown is thine, Margarita, thou shalt understand, for then will ALANGGHÁ speak to thee.>>

<<I understand already,>> acknowledged the Regnalka, fighting back her tears, <<for I know well the voice of INGMÁ, the WALPTRÁ whose headstone surmounteth my coronet.>>

<<Thou hast spoken well, Margarita,>> nodded the Sovereign, as she arose from her cushion and motion'd to all present to arise with her. <<I would that every Regnalka were as worthy. Now shall ye know wherefore I have order'd that each Regnalka bring her coronet today.>>

She parted an ornate curtain behind the floor cushion whereupon she had been sitting and led them all into a small private chapel beyond. Then she waited in front of the altar while one of her indigo footed attendants brought up the ornate box that held her magnificent crown. Taking it out and placing it upon her head, she knelt before the altar, having motion'd to the Regnalka Margarita to don her own coronet and kneel at her right. The other three Regnalkana likewise don'd their coronets. The two royal attendants went up and knelt behind their Sovereign Mother and the Regnalka whom she was, by this gesture, asking them to affirm as her successor. The three other royals lined up behind them and then likewise knelt down, having instructed their subordinates to do the same, each in turn, filing up according to rank.

Reciting in the Changeless Speech the psalm equivalent to 'DOMINVS REGIT ME....', the Sovereign Mother and her intended successor knelt serenely as the indigo footed acolytes who knelt behind them abluted and then anointed the averted soles of their bare feet, before honouring them with fervent kisses of fealty.

Sarah and Harriet heard in their heads the words of the psalm as if in English: "...yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil...." They watcht reverently as the acolytes arose and went to stand on either side of the altar removing with them the basin and towels and the consecrated oil. Then, when their turns came, each padded up silently on her own bare feet, knelt down where her betters had knelt before her, and pay'd, with four loving kisses, her humble homage -- first to her Sovereign and then to their beloved Regnalka -- their Sovereign-to-be. Neither pair of royal feet had ever once worn shoes. War harden'd as they were and leather tough under their purple magnificence, Sarah nonetheless sensed something tragicly vulnerable about them as the royal scent of frankincense and myrrh wafted up from those anointed soles. A single tear fell from the tip of Sarah's nose onto the St. Katharine's cross imprinted on the ball of her beloved Regnalka's right foot and from the slight quiver she sensed as she quickly kist it away, she knew that it had been felt.

* * * * *

Paula found it difficult to sleep that night, for the serious side of being a Katharinian was beginning to come home to her. It was not that she was beginning to have any doubts about her calling; for she had long known that this was the only life wherein she could ever hope to find fulfillment. It was only now, however, that she realised that the oath that she had sworn on her gorgett might bind her to a grim death.

Ever since she could remember, Paula had been proud to call Harriet Bronwynn her 'aunt,' and had always wanted to be, or at least one day become, everything that Harriet was. Paula could no more say why this was so than she could say why she had been born a girl. She knew that her little sisters were different. They wanted to be wives and mothers, just like 'big' Paula, and that made young Paula happy, because she loved her mother too, and a part of her was sorry that she could not grow up to be like her. She wisht that her mother could understand; but she knew that 'big' Paula could never understand, and that they would both have to live their lives without that understanding. She could take comfort in the fact that both her father and her great uncle Regis seem'd to understand completely about who she was and what she wanted and why she wanted it.

Even that comfort came at a price, however, for the understanding that they had of her came of their experience in the Parent World and that was something that they could never share with her. Something, she knew, constrain'd her father from telling her anything at all about the experiences of his childhood. All she had was a list of ancestors to pray for because, she was told, they had lived and died in a world of madness. Did that mean that they had all been dangerously daft like the dreadfull Regnalka Vrsula? She did not know. Would madness spread if one spoke too much of it? She did not want to know. Paula did know that everyone's ancestry -- even the Emperor's -- went back to the Parent World but that the only things that most people were ever told about it were those things that could be found in the Holy Scriptures. Most people had heard of the Parent World only as that wherein God had first created men and had Himself lived and died as a man. It was by all accounts a very odd world -- yet Paula's father had once lived there.

Harriet had often told Paula that she had lookt upon Conrad as her brother ever since Andrew had wrapt his cloak around them on a Winter's night in the Parent World and brought them to the Embassy together. Paula had always loved hearing stories. She knew that her great uncle Regis had once been some sort of story teller in the Parent World and she had always sensed that it pain'd him that he could not tell her more about his own past. Regis had, of course, told her all about the War against the Lawless Lands -- but everyone told her those stories, and although she would never have hurt Regis by telling him so, as far as Paula was concern'd, Harriet told them best.

Although Paula's family actually maintain'd a quite respectable residence in her mothers ancestral home on the southern shore of St. Ponderus' Bay, she had grown up thinking herself a nomad. Her father always seem'd to have some business at the Imperial court in Iohanetisten which required them all to pack up and hie them thither on a days notice. Then there were trips to Katharintisten -- at least once a year -- to stay with Paula's great grandfather who lived at the Preservers' Embassy, almost as an honourary member of that strange order. On these visits they always call'd on their Katharinian friends as well, and Paula had almost always been allow'd to spend at least one whole day alone with Harriet and Sarah as their special guest in the Palace. From her very first such visit she had known that someday she would make her home among the Katharinians.

She remember'd the year that she had spent Christmas in her favourite city. She had been only eight years old but she had known her own mind. While crossing a bridge she had removed her shoes and thrown them into a canal, declaring that she intended thenceforth to follow the Katharinian custom of going barefoot the year round.

<<Willfull girl!>> her mother had scolded, <<What dost thou?>>

<<As she hath spoken, even so let it be,>> she remember'd her father commanding in reply. <<She shall not have shoes again.>> Nor did she.

The ground had been cold that day, she remembered, but her will had been strong. She had, in fact, try'd to insist on having the crosses of St. Katharine imprinted on her bare soles that very day, but although her resolve had been respected, she had found that all of the adults who might conceivably have been held to have had any say in the matter (and she had, to her fathers consternation, presumed to petition several) were unanimous in their insistence that she delay the start of her novitiate until she was fourteen. The next six years had seem'd the longest of her life.

Paula might, when she had finally past the magick birthday, have chosen simply to travel to Katharintisten with her family and bid them goodby at the end of their visit. She had, however, chosen instead to participate in a tradition that promised to provide a more demanding, but also more rewarding type of travel experience. Each Spring a group of would-be novices from all parts of the Empire gather'd at the Katharinian Embassy in Iohanetisten to begin a month long trek to Katharintisten. Here again, Paula might have convenienced herself by joining this trek a week later when it would make the first of three Sunday stops at the Katharinian Consulate in Simontisten, which was only a half day's walk from her home; but she had nonetheless chosen to travel to the Capital with her father on his next official visit and to begin the trek at the beginning.

Her entire family, as it turned out had come along to see her off, knowing that, barring some emergency, she would not be willing to visit with any but her great grandfather during the entire two years of her novitiate. She had felt strongly about the need for this separation, but she had also felt guilty in that her mother could not understand.

Arda, the indigo footed incongruity who had led the trek, had made it a very memorable experience. She was actually one of the Regnalkalkána, and on paper held the rank of an Attaché; but in fact she was far too rough manner'd for any diplomatick function and too fond of the forest to do anything but lead the same sort of trek three or four times each year. Apart from this imposing leader, Paula had found herself with about a score of companions, ranging in age from early teens to early twenties, ranging in rank from peasants to patricians, and including not only prospective Bhozamagána, but also two young men intent on becoming eunuchs, and a girl who wanted to be a Læng. Warning the would-be eunuchs that she would be quite pleased to have their testicles for herself if she observed any improprieties; shaking her head and swearing as she felt several pair of pamper'd bare soles; and berating a girl who had started to cry; Arda had managed to make herself seem quite the ogress at the start of the trek. By the end of the first evening, however, she had also reveal'd a motherly side to her rough character. By the end of the journey Arda had thoroughly toughen'd their bare feet and taught them a good deal of woodcraft into the bargain; but she had also brought them to Katharintisten safe and unharm'd.

On their first night in the palace the Lengna markt each trail harden'd bare sole with St. Katharine's cross. Magicians that they so often seem'd to be, the Lengna had turn'd this ceremony into a fantastick dream sequence that no Katharinian ever forgot. Paula remember'd the rest of her novitiate, however, as, for the most part, a long period spent as a second class Katharinian. She had, however, in that time learnt a tremendous amount about the history and traditions of the order -- both good and bad. With this knowledge her gorgett, as she had once try'd to tell her uncle Regis, often felt like a great weight upon her chest.

The Millennial Edict of Philippa the First was required study for every Katharinian novice, and Paula, like many, had memorised it. She was also quite familiar with the much more recent final edict of Philippa IX whereby that late monarch had sought to clarify the famous decree of her earliest namesake with regard to the order of succession. Philippa I had establisht that in ranking the Regnalkána [those descendants of the Sovereign Mother's great great grandmother through pure female lines who had taken their final vows within the totally celibate Katharinian order] any sister of the monarch was to be preferred over any niece, any niece over any grand niece, any grand niece over any first cousin, any first cousin over any first cousin's daughter, and so on through granddaughters of first cousins, mother's first cousins, second cousins, daughters and then granddaughters of second cousins, follow'd by grandmother's first cousins, mother's second cousins, third cousins and so on. The Millennial Edict did not, however, fully deal with the question of precedence within these groups. Some argued that it should be primogeniturial, while others argued that it should be based upon seniority within the order, but the application of these principles generally tended to produce the same results -- at least until one got out into the more distant relations. There was also the question of whether secondary consanguinities through male lines were to be consider'd. Although these open questions had brought about a brief war or succession following the death of Katharine XVII, more than seven centuries ago, they had been of no real consequence since. Now, however, another such war was expected. By recognising secondary consanguinities, Phillipa had given Margarita -- who was also a second cousin through a common great grandfather -- precedence over her other female line third cousins. It was now expected, however, that the infamous Katharine, who would otherwise have had seniority, would challenge for the throne.

Disturb'd as Paula had been by the dreadfull words of her liege lady, she had found some of the things that her own Regnalka had confided over the buffet to be equally disturbing. Everyone realised that the simplest strategy whereby the Leonisisána could serve their own ends would be to eliminate Margarita herself before risking any other murders. Vrsula they were most unlikely to harm, having already suborn'd her. It would in fact be to the advantage of those unworthy Regnalkana if Vrsula were to come briefly to the throne and recall them from exile before her quite natural death made way for their succession. The Leonisisána might also try to improve their position by eliminating Alexandra and then placing Vrsula on the throne immediately -- even with Margarita still alive -- but this would virtually insure a civil war whose outcome would be uncertain. Thus the Regnalka Margarita had to assume that she herself would be the prime target, and as she had now just told her subordinates, she was virtually sure that at least two attempts on her life had already been made.

Even when Paula did finally get to sleep, she managed to awaken herself several times with bad dreams, mostly about the Lengna. She could not stop herself from thinking about the terrible story of Priscillæng, the murderous, one-handed witch who had managed to cloak herself in the total nakedness so fervently espoused by those supposedly benign ancillaries. Paula's dreams were haunted by the severed hand that had been found in the box, by the severed head that had never been found at all, and by the ghastly voice that had been heard from the mouth of a condemn'd prisoner long after the remains of its true owner had been consign'd to the fire. Her Regnalka, as Paula remember'd, had spoken of the Lengna that day as well, and had said that, apart from Barbaræng, a friend from her girlhood whom she now call'd upon often, she no longer felt that any of them could be trusted.

* * * * *

"Blessings on Nikonor," exclaimed Sarah as she sipt at the mug that Harriet had handed her in their sitting room, "this is good coffee!"

"Better than any a Læng might bring us," agreed Harriet in the English that she reserved for the times when she and Sarah were alone together. "And that is a consolation now that we shall be making our own each morning."

"What do you think of this business of our taking all of our meals together -- as a regiment, I mean? do you think that it will work out?"

"It should work out well, and I would think it would make us stronger as a regiment -- more bonding and all that -- but that's important -- and I tend to agree with the Regnalka: It is safer that way -- with our own girls fetching up the food and all for us, we'll be that much less dependant on those damn bare-arses. I really don't trust them much myself."

"The Regnalka trusts Barbaræng," ventured Sarah.

"Barbaræng is very much an exception," reply'd Harriet. "I can almost understand her. She grew up wanting to be a healer, just like Paula grew up wanting to be one of us. Heaven only knows what most of them might have wanted when they chose that life. I've beheaded far too many of them to want to know."

"Maybe that's what they want," whisper'd Sarah flirtatiously, "to have Harriet Bronwynn cut off their heads!" Sarah danced up to Harriet and bent back her head to expose as much neck as her gorgett would allow. She let her long, black-cherry tresses fall over Harriet's bare breasts as she toucht with her left cheek the cool metal of the gorgett that half cover'd them, and stared up at her with seductive, sea-green eyes.

"Stop that, you pervert!" scolded Harriet, biting her tongue as she heard the hurtfull words leave her mouth and then feigning a friendly giggle.

Sarah straighten'd instantly and her normally red face went three shades redder as she quickly changed the subject. "Where is Paula, anyway? Wash't she going to meet us here for coffee first?"

"Overslept again, I suppose," surmised Harriet with a yawn. "I'm sure we'll see her at breakfast, though. Let's be off."

"Shouldn't you put on a tunic?" suggested Sarah, somewhat timidly.

"Good idea," agreed Harriet with a warm smile, and stept into her bedroom to change. She had concluded that it were now best to abandon her recently revived habit of going about barebreasted, except perhaps on such mornings as KShena had actually delegated an execution to her.

As they started towards their regiments reception hall, they met a tired Paula emerging from her room and complaining of the bad dreams that had rob'd her of her rest. They fell in behind two green footed girls who took turns ringing the breakfast bell and struggling with an overloaded food trolley. A nude Læng, whose usual duty this would have been, follow'd along behind as a precaution. They were not the last to arrive.

Margarita's regiment number'd about 2400. This was fairly large by recent standards, larger in fact than the regiments of her two nieces taken together; but the room might, albeit not so comfortably, have accommodated all three regiments for such a buffet breakfast as this was to be.

All had expected to tuck into the food as soon as their chaplain had finisht giving thanks for it, but before they could disperse to do so he raised his hand again to stay them, and raised his voice as well: <<Forgive me if I detain you, and forgive me also in that what I must say is far from pleasant, but because the matter which I must now relate hath an apparent bearing upon the murder of the Regnalka Silvia on the night before last, our own beloved Regnalka hath deem'd it to be of vital interest to every one of you -- indeed to every Katharinian.

<<I am, as ye all know, a priest of God, sworn to serve the Katharinian order. Those who know me well, however, know that I have never been able to deal comfortably with the Lengna. I now suspect that it was in fact because of this personal aversion that someone chose to involve me in this dreadfull incident.>>

Harriet and Sarah both knew Father Philip well and they held him in the very highest regard. They saw him as the perfect type of the Good and Faithfull Servant to whom the Master had given the grace to deal quite adequately with even the most difficult situations. They knew of his personal distaste for the Lengna, but they were sure that anyone who thought that this would compromise his ability to deal with them would be very mistaken. They had seen him deal quite competently with the worst of the Lengna.

<<My nightly custom of many years,>> their chaplain continued, <<hath been to walk the corridors of the palace reciting to myself a long litany of additional prayers. My walk beginneth always the moment the Night Songs end and taketh me always the same way, through the same corridors with the same prayers at the same time each and every night. I try always to chant these prayers softly, yet aloud, so as to make neither a shew nor a secret of them. I bless those whom I chance to meet and more often then not my blessing falleth upon a nude Læng. Lengna are often seen going about at night, on errands whereof I think it best not to enquire.>>

The priest permitted some rude titters and muffled snorts to pass through the throng while he attempted to think of an acceptable way to approach an impending indelicacy, before finally forcing himself to continue in the sad suspicion that no such happy euphemism existed. <<Last night, as I made my prayerfull way through a Lengsin corridor, a blood bespatter'd Læng leapt out at me, seized my hand, and pulled me towards the door whence she had come, telling me the while that a sister Læng had slain herself and beg'd to be shriven ere she died.

<<I had seen the severed hand of Priscill‘ng, and all the many horrors of the Lawless Hordes, but never had I beheld a worse scene than met my eyes in that room -- a scene that became even more hideous in hindsight as I realised that it had been quite deliberately staged for my beholding.>> He paused, drawing breath as for a final assault upon some monstrous foe.

<<Lying naked, legs display'd, in a pool of her own blood, the dreadfull victim clutcht the hilt of the sword whereupon she had presumably impaled herself through her female parts. Her body was rackt with spasms and she was belching up blood from her mouth. Knowing the she would be dead within moments, and placing, as I am bound, my priestly duty before all else, I shrove her without delay. Even had I try'd to question her, however, she quite obviously could not have answer'd me anything.

<<Turning to question the L‘ng who had fetcht me, I found that she had disappear'd from the room, nor could she be seen about the corridor. Judging from this all too convenient disappearance that things had not been such as they had been made to appear to be, I call'd down the corridor to an eunuch who was walking a guard's duty and had him summon our beloved Regnalka from her bed. By the time he return'd with her the Læng had long expired, but through her friendship with the Preservers' Ambassador, she was able to locate the selfsame physician who had examin'd Silvia's remains and have him there before the watch had past.

<<Having made a thorough examination of the body, the physician inform'd us that the Læng had indeed died in exactly the same manner as the Late First Regnalka, and, in all probability, by the self same hand. He was quite positive, however, that the dead Læng could not possibly have slain herself in such a manner, although, for things to have been staged as they had been, she would have had to have been a totally willing victim, and, to keep herself from crying out would have had to have taken something to render herself insensitive to pain. The physician reckon'd that the very same Læng who had accosted me must have done the deed -- and only a moment before -- so short a time would her grim confederate, once stricken, have remain'd alive.

<<Efforts even to learn the name of the living Læng, much less locate her, have thus far yielded nothing. I doubt in any case that she lived in the same part of the Palace. She must be a very clever creature, and thus very dangerous, and (Need I say it?) sufficient argument in herself in favour of our avoiding any unnecessary contact with any of the Lengna during these troubled times.

<<We found, by contrast, no difficulty whatever in learning all that we cared to learn about the dead Læng. She was known as Doræng, and she had lived in the selfsame room wherein she died for somewhat over a year -- her entire time in the order. She had qualify'd in no faculty other than that of musicians and dancers -- I am tempted to simply say 'whores.' What is to be said of such? Perverse lovers of Death, they come to us only to indulge their senses for a short time before their moment of vain glory on the scaffold. This Doræng had simply been offer'd a death of even more spectacular infamy and she quite willingly chose it.

<<For what little it may be worth, I shall now read you the concocted 'confession,' which she, doubtless well instructed, wrote out in her own hand and left most conveniently on a table beside her:

Silvia Bhozetsa, the first Regnalka, was my wakefull and willing lover. In our games of love we play'd often with the sword wherewith I slew her last night when my passion overcame me and I thrust it into her. Not willing to live any longer with this sin, I shall now end my own life in the same way that I ended hers. May God forgive me -- Dor‘ng

<<I must now,>> concluded Father Philip, <<beg the forgiveness of any whose breakfast I may have spoilt by this unpleasant revelation.>>

<<Get thee some breakfast,>> commanded Harriet firmly, as she pusht her pale and rather reluctant looking niece towards the buffet. <<Think not on the Lengna, for they are not as thou art.>> Harriet's contacts with the Lengna had been largely confined to the perverse, suicidal types that accounted for most of the beheadings that KShena assigned to her. Although in some years the majority of Lengsin vocations were of this totally unedifying type, they so rarely qualify'd for any of the more important Lengsin functions as to be of almost no practical importance. Many others, as Harriet in her more charitable moments admitted, had much nobler vocations, and spent many long years perfecting their skills through dedicated service to the Katharinian Order. Barbaræng was not really all that exceptional in this regard. There were, however, some really dangerous characters among the Lengna who did not fit into either of these types, and whose purposes and motivations were totally opaque. Now, moreover, at least one cold blooded murderess could be counted among them.

At supper that evening, Father Philip again held their attention beyond the blessing, but this time he gave the floor over to the Regnalka.

<<I met with the Sovereign Mother only a short while ago,>> she inform'd them. "Her Majesty inform'd me that she sees little hope of finding the murderess untill a long and very extensive search has been made; little chance that she could be compell'd to incriminate her coconspirators, even if she were apprehended; and no possibility whatever that the Judicial Council would be willing to hear any case involving the Regnalka Silvia's murder without the evidence of the missing Læng. She has therefore order'd, on her own authority as Sovereign Mother, that the Regnalkana Michæla and Patricia be banisht from the Palace, from Katharintisten, and from all the houses of the Katharinian Order throughout the realm.>>

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Three

Banishing Michæla and Patricia had, one might argue, been Alexandra's only real option. She could neither have done any more nor could she have done any less. Limited a measure as the sovereign herself regretfully admitted this to be, however, it could bring little peace of mind when everyone knew that the murderous Læng was still at large. Those who occupy'd themselves in the futile search for the nude assassin began to joke that the Lengsin commitment to total nakedness was an apt metaphor for their ability to hide perfectly in plain sight. Such humour eased no one's nerves, however, and even those virtuous Lengna, who honestly lookt upon their lack of clothing as properly symbolizing a lack of guile, found themselves subjected to many insults.

Nevertheless the next few weeks past without incident and at last the attention of most began to shift to the upcoming celebrations marking the nineteenth anniversary of their final victory over the Lawless Hordes in the glorious battle that had ended the life of Philippa IX and brought Alexandra XVI to the throne. Every year at this time Alexandra made a royal progress to Pernebherg, the oldest and southernmost city of her realm, and the city nearest the site of that famous battle. In some years a contingent equivalent to half the strength of the Katharinian Order would accompany her on this tour, which would have her absent from the Palace for an entire month. Ponderus III, first as regent for his war invalided father, but now -- for the last two years -- as Emperor in his own right, had each year made a similar progress northwards through his own realms, and would be doing the same again this year -- meeting her Katharinian Majesty on the battle site for a memorial service on the actual anniversary of the victory wherein they had both shared. Margarita's regiment, as in previous years, now prepared to depart in full strength. Each city that they would visit along the way, -- Alexandretisten, Wretarjetsibherg, Bhozetsasina, Margaretisa, Iulisa, and finally Pernebherg itself, -- would try to outdo the others in hospitality. It was great fun.

Rejoicing in the magick of the long awaited morning, Paula bounced through breakfast with all the childlike exuberance that her seventeen years still permitted her, but which Harriet and Sarah could only look upon with a wistfull envy. Today would begin Paula's second royal progress and she had spent the whole of the previous week recounting her memories of the previous year's excursion. Had she been going to a coronation she could not have spent more time polishing and preening, and by the time they were ready to mount up her horse's trappings had had more attention than the dress armour of many of her older companions.

It seem'd as if all of Katharintisten had turned out to see them off, the streets being all y'thrung about with the Sovereign Mother's Lay subjects, who cheer'd her heralds and her ensigns and then fell on their knees as She Herself past. Leaving the gates of the city's Southern Quarter, they crost the bridge over the Wretarjetsisa and rode along her southern bank towards Alexandretisten, the ancient capital of the realm. Paula knew that this yearly progress was, in several different senses, a journey back through history.

They spent the first night as the guests of the sovereign's grandparents. Joseph Alexandretsin, now eighty-six years old, had been marry'd to Paula Bhozetsa when he had been sixteen and she fourteen, but his position as first prince of the realm had been his by birth and not by marriage and would soon pass to his sixty-eight year old son Iosephsept. Their second child was Thelma, the Empress dowager, through whom they had become ancestral to both the present Emperor and the present Sovereign Mother. Their third child had been Philippa IX.

These August octogenarians and their royal descendants excused themselves early from the sumptuous supper. They had arrangements to make concerning those of the Regnalka Margarita's younger nieces who would now need consorts from among the higher Alexandretsin princes.

Alexandretisten hailed them from the next night's horizon, her ancient towers appearing to march towards them with a soul-stirring and yet a dreadfull grandeur, like a delegation of ancestors, come to call on them from across the sea of Time. Alexandra XVI would sit that night upon the ancient throne of her erest namesake, perhaps, some thought, to somehow commune with her. More than three millennia had past since that throne had been set for the famous foundress of the Northern Realm and fifty-four sovereigns, both good and bad, had reign'd from it before the last of them, Katharine XII, had moved her court to Katharintisten. Philippa I had read her famous Millennial Edict from that throne. Leona the Great had sat upon it as she reverently received the testicles of the first Eunuchs of the Order, and the wicked Isidor‘ had likewise sat upon it as they gorged themselves in sinfull travesties of the selfsame rite, yet had the virtuous Leona VI reconsecrated that throne when she came to it, that it might ever be reverenced as the throne of Alexandra.

In contrast to the carefully plan'd capital that Katharine XII had created for herself with the help of the Preservers, Alexandretisten was, and perhaps always had been, a chaotic shambles. She made no attempt whatever to hide the fact that she had grown haphazardly, and that was part of her charm. The same tended to be true even of the individual buildings within the old capital. Paula was accustom'd to the fact that the huge Palace of St. Katharine, like some ancient hive, had undergone so many random remodellings to its interior over seventeen centuries, that she herself, even after three and a half years of living in it, could still easily get lost in parts of it, and yet from the outside it's beautiful symmetry shew'd little disturbance. The old palace here, however, although very much smaller, betray'd not the least external hint of any architectural plan, and even the ghosts that haunted it were said to behave much more rudely than those whom Paula had learnt to accommodate.

Unaccustom'd as they were to this haunted city, many were plagued by disturbing dreams that night as they try'd to sleep away the effects of another evening of overindulgence. Too many dreadfull tales of the Isidoræ had been told that night. Margarita's regiment, following the unchanging custom of nineteen years, was billeted in one of the great halls of the old palace. It was the very same hall wherein the regiment had been billeted when it had first stopt in Alexandretisten on its way to its very first engagement in the war whose final battle they were now on their way to commemorate. Harriet and Sarah remembered that long ago night. The hall had been far less crowded then. This year, as every year, their Regnalka had suggested during Night Songs that more attention be given to prayers and less to ghost stories, but, as every year, this suggestion had gone unheeded. Every so often now some ninny awaken'd from a nightmare and attempted to comfort herself by softly singing some lullaby whereunto several insomniacks join'd faint voices. Paula, huddled up to Harriet and Sarah, blest herself but once and slept well.

For those who had been with the regiment since its formation, the rest of the journey fairly faithfully reprised the first fortnight of their first excursion together, when they had been sent to help the Imperial forces in the defence of Simontisten. Harriet and Sarah past much of their time along the way by telling Paula stories of that expedition. They told her how her own Father and her great uncle Regis had been with them -- more or less as part of the regiment --, and, as well as Paula already knew all of these stories, she enjoy'd hearing them again. She listen'd intently as they told of the dangerous passage through Apostolia, the glorious victory at Simontisten --and the shamefull feast that follow'd, -- of Father Philip's righteous indignation -- and Julia's song that brought the Walptr. They omitted only to tell her of their own private night of shame.

Although Pernebherg could quite justly claim to be the oldest city in the realm as her founding antedated that of the ancient capital by a full two years, she could boast little if anything that one might actually identify as being from the time of Alexandra I. The hospitality was quite acceptable however, and the current bishop was rather entertaining as a toastmaster. Nothing about the city itself, in fact, aroused as much curiosity in the visitors from Katharintisten as the simultaneous presence therein of the remnant of what had at the time of the war been an Imperial regiment organised along Katharinian lines in honour of the then Empress Thelma. Originally there had been two such regiments: one male and one female. They were barefooted, according to the Katharinian rule, and wore the Katharinian style of armour. They were also avow'd to a rule of celibacy, although, unlike their Katharinian counterparts, the males were not castrated. The male regiment, which had briefly been the military home of Regis and Conrad, had been totally supprest at the end of the war with those of its former members consider'd fit to continue soldiering taken into Prince Jacob's regiment. The female regiment had been quietly demilitarised until it was now virtually an order of discalced nuns. They still however, retain'd their Katharinian style gorgetts -- a thing that the dowager Empress was most pleased to observe.

Having chosen to retire to Katharintisten upon the death of her imperial consort, Thelma Bhozetsa was permitted to join the Katharinian Order as a widow. Widows, since the sad experience of Dorothy the Daft, were never permitted to become full Katharinians but were given a status somewhat like perpetual novices. Their bare feet were imprinted with St. Katharine's crosses but they were not dyed. They were given gorgetts after a year, but rather than mantles they had only shoulder capes over their white tunics. Thelma's shoulder cape was red-purple.

Veterans themselves of the same war, Regis and Conrad also made this annual pilgrimage to the battle site, travelling north with Prince Jacob's regiment, and this despite the fact that Regis, having suffer'd in the final battle a compounding injury to an already bad knee, was unable to ride an horse and was thus obliged to ride in the invalid wagon, along with drunken idlers and daft incontinents. Like all those who had been part of the unfortunate Prince Timothy's regiment they were given leave to attend in the armour and livery that they had worn in the actual battle. Conrad usually managed to arrange for himself the further liberty of actually spending the day with his onetime Katharinian regiment, and this year even managed to have his uncle dropt off at that end of the field as well, to the delight of his daughter and of all his Katharinian friends.

A great bell tower, which contain'd in its base a relatively modest memorial chapel, had been built over the place where Philippa IX had fallen, and this was the only permanent structure on a great grassy plain that had been consecrated as a memorial park. A lonely, quite place throughout the rest of the year, it was, on this day, honour'd with grand pavilions. In front of the memorial a great platform, with purple hangings and a sumptuous canopy had been erected. Ponderus III and his royal sister Alexandra XVI each took a turn addressing the assembled multitude from atop this temporary structure. Both spoke, quite predictably of the dead who had given their lives to gain the victory that they were now commemorating

Sarah wept silently when she thought of Thaddæus Dupa, the Polak whom she had at first despised, but later had come to count as a brother. The tears ran down her face as she remember'd how he had given his life for hers on that dreadfull day; yet they were tears of pride, not sorrow; for she knew that 'Tat' was somehow standing with her now.

The Sovereign Mother, when she had completed her address, took her seat upon the throne that had been set for her next to those of the Emperor, the current Empress and the Empress Dowager. Then the Bishop of Pernebhergh arose from his throne and began to sing a high pontifical mass before the altar that occupy'd the centre of the platform. Even as he began, however, a fearfull sight in the heavens began to steal away the attention of his congregation. The terrible form of a WALPTRÁ appear'd in the Eastern sky and flew towards them with such speed that her dreadfull shadow was passing over them even as he turn'd round to bless them with the consecrated host. Seeing the shadow pass over the kneeling crowd he froze dumbfounded.

<<Finish quickly, my lord, and give me the blessèd Sacrament,>> said the Sovereign Mother, rising to her feet. <<Her name is Alk…, and she is come for me. Fear not for she will touch no one else.>>

The bishop did as she commanded, communicating only himself first.

Having taken communion in both kinds, Alexandra XVI turn'd to face the throng. <<Fall back!>> she commanded. <<Give her place!>> Then she lifted her voice and sang the song to welcome the angel of death.

The terrible voice of the great wingŠd creature rang out in reply: <<I am ALKÁ and well hast thou known me, Alexandra Bhozetsa, and sweet is thy song wherewith thou callest me. Thou hast been faithfull in what God gave thee, and now shalt thou and I behold the face of God together. I commend my headstone to the Regnalka Margarita. Be strong Margarita Bhozetsa, for thou must wear the gorgett of St. Katharine and the crown of Alexandra.>> Having thus spoken, the WALPTRÁ ALKÁ alighted in front of the platform, permitted the monarch to make the sign of the cross, and then swallow'd her whole. Mounting to the sky again she circled the crowd, singing a song whose words no human could know. Then she burst into flames above them and the aforemention'd gorgett and crown, and ALKÁ's own headstone, fell to the ground, unharm'd and unharming. The bones of Alexandra were found among these relicks but there were no other remains of the WALPTRÁ.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Four

<<Vrsula must be dead!>> gaspt Karena, the Regnalka's rather impetuous orderly. <<God save Margarita the Fifth!>> Overwhelm'd by the thought that she would be first to do so, Karena knelt before her supposèd sovereign and kist both her hands, but as she bow'd down to reverence the bare feet of her mistress in the same way, she was suddenly both uphoisted and upbraided with a stinging rebuke.

<<Foolish girl,>> scolded the Regnalka, as she haul'd her up by the hair, <<what sayest thou? Who told thee such a thing?>> Margarita, in her somewhat fearfull sense that she herself might be accused of a great impropriety if her handling of the situation were less than perfect, had been trying not to raise her voice, but when she lookt about, she saw that all eyes were upon her. Seeing then the hot flush in Karena's cheeks, and the hurt look in her eyes, the simply human part of her wanted to embrace her thoroughly humiliated servant, but the royal part of her knew better. A slight touch of her royal hand and a reässuring smile were all that she could spare to comfort her orderly.

Drawing confidence from the knowledge that she had their attention in any case, Margarita strode up onto the platform and addrest the throng from the very spot where Alexandra had just met her doom: <<The WALPTREINA are unfallen beings, and they speak as the Angles of God.>> she began, intoning the Changeless Speech with a royal eloquence in the deep, purring accent that characterized the Katharinian nobility, <<As with the words of Angels, however, so with the words of the WALPTREINA must we beware, lest we write our own hopes and fears into our interpretations. Knowing the recent mind of our late Liege Lady, many might presume as my faithful Karena presumed; yet we have had no such news from Katharintisten, and those not proven dead must be presumed alive. I will not usurp that which is Vrsula's by right. I will only that ye obey me in her absence till we return to Katharintisten.

<<None must touch the headstone till I, myself, have taken it up,>> she adjured, as she gestured down towards it, <<for the headstone is mine by the WALPTRÁ's own demising, and would burn the hands of any other. I shall not presume, however, to touch ought that was our Sovereign Mother's. It shall be her chaplain's task to gather up her bones, her armour, and her crown, that we may bear them back to the Palace with us.>> She turn'd towards the thrones to regard the Emperor, for she had just seen the Emperor's footman leading Conrad Kingslynn up to the platform.

Ponderus III arose and approacht her, just as Conrad ascended the steps. <<I shall pray, Regnalka, that all that was my sister's may be thine, for I know that such was her final prayer,>> he said solemnly. <<If it please thee, I should like to send Conrad along with thee to Katharintisten, that he might stay some days, and afterwards return to render me an account of how the matter goeth. He hath, I am told a daughter in thy regiment.>>

<<Even so>> acknowledged the Regnalka, <<her name is Paula, and she and I shall both be pleased to have her father with us.>> She smiled warmly at Conrad. <<I hope, however, that the elder Paula will suffer no distress from this plan,>> she added with some concern.

<<Regis will explain everything to her,>> reply'd Conrad, <<and she will be glad to know that I shall be spending more time with our daughter.>> Conrad was delighted at the prospect of travelling once again with his 'old regiment' -- for that was very much the way he thought of it. He realised that he would be spending at least a fortnight as the only intact male sharing fairly close quarters with a regiment that now number'd some 1800 more or less amazonian females, -- and also some 600 fanatical eunuchs, whose pride in themselves and in their Regnalka centred around an appalling sacrificial rite that most of the Emperors subjects lookt upon as an abomination. He knew no more than one hundred of these characters by name, -- yet among them he counted a few very close and very dear friends.

Having thus assumed a general command over all who had been part of the royal progress, the Regnalka led them back to Pernebhergh that evening. Excusing herself early from the communal repast, she repair'd for what she hoped would be a relaxing conversation with Conrad, Harriet, and Sarah. Ostensibly her purpose was to brief Conrad in his capacity as an Imperial representative, and she did, in fact, expect politicks to be the dominant theme of the discussion, but she also needed to divert herself somewhat from the collective anxiety of the great throng that now lookt to her, not only for leadership but for some sort of consolation. A chance to practice again the English that Andrew had taught her seem'd very inviting, and the company that she had chosen would, she hoped, provide a pleasant reverie of some happy moments of the past.

"Well, Conrad, we are all very pleased with Paula," began the Regnalka warmly as Harriet finisht helping her off with her greaves, "but I must ask about the rest of your family -- can we expect any other Katharinians from among them?"

"No," laught Conrad, "I'm afraid not. Both my sons want to be officers in the Imperial guard, and both my younger daughters want to marry officers of the Imperial guard. They all want to live in Iohanetisten and have lots and lots of children."

"That sounds very exciting," said Sarah, somewhat sarcastickly, "What do they think of their big sister then?"

"I don't think they understand her," answer'd Conrad, "but they are very proud of her -- and, I think, happy for her."

"That's as it should be," said the Regnalka"

There was a very long pause before Conrad brought up the subject that had, from the first moment, been foremost on all their minds: "Tell us, Regnalka, what do your royal instincts tell you about Vrsula? Still alive -- or safely dead? What did you feel when the Walptra spoke?"

"You credit me, Conrad, with powers that are not mine," demurr'd the Regnalka, "for whether through the headstone of a Regnalka's coronet, or through the mouth of a living WALPTR, the WALPTREINA reveal to us only so much as God permits them to reveal. All that I can tell you is that when she spoke of my wearing the crown and the gorgett, I had no sense that I had attain'd unto those things, but rather that I was being call'd upon to fight for them. There was indeed a promise of victory, but I felt that that victory would only come at the end of a terrible war."

"Let's assume Vrsula alive then," postulated Conrad, "how would things play out in that case?"

"I would be obliged to proclaim her as our Sovereign Mother," the Regnalka reply'd, "and, if I were wise, be the first to do so."

"How bad is your position with her?" he askt.

"As far as I know she still thinks that I myself, and not her precious grand niece, Vulpecula, murder'd her two nieces during the war. She has not spoken to me in years."

"Do you have any idea at all who put that idea into her head?"

"If you are asking me who actually whisper'd in Vrsula's ear, I can only surmise that it were probably some sneaking Læng, although I'm sure that the plot originated in Leonisa. That, in any case, is what our Late Sovereign Mother thought when Vrsula came to her with the story. The old fool wouldn't say who provided her with the information."

"It does sound like a typically Lengsin piece of mind manipulation," ventured Harriet. "The worst of it is that for all we know, she might still be seeing whomever it is on a regular basis."

"Well, its always safest to assume the worst, isn't it?" askt Sarah. "In any case I'm sure that there is nothing anyone could do to change the old girl's mind -- so --. If that's what she thinks, Regnalka, just what is the worst that she might do?"

"She might decide to begin by banishing me," smiled the Regnalka with a pretended cheerfulness. "Then, if we are correct in assuming that the Leonisisana are behind all this, we might expect her to recall them from exile. We could expect her to repudiate the final edict of Philippa IX, of course, and take whatever other steps she could to put Katharine on the throne after her -- like appointing some priest who might be sympathetick to their cause to the office of Archbishop should it happen to fall vacant. After doing all that she could to further the cause of our enemies, I presume that she would quite conveniently die, so as not to keep Katharine waiting"

"Old bitch -- perfect dupe!" mutter'd Sarah. "As far as I'm concern'd she can eat shit and die right now if she's not dead already!"

"I know how you feel, Sarah," said the Regnalka sternly, "but you must never speak that way again. Vrsula may well be our Sovereign Mother, and if so we must honour and obey her."

"Enough about Vrsula," said Conrad. "What of the other Regnalkana? Whom among them can Your Highness count on for support?"

"Well, I can certainly count on my three nieces in any case," began the Regnalka on a cheerfull note, "and I am quite confident about Barbara and her nieces and about Flora as well. My only question is about Theodora. She and I never 'got along' as you say in English, I mean that there was something wrong between us on a personal level. I rather think that she resented me for some reason. In my first years in the order she was often unkind to me. I rarely speak to her now. I cannot, however, say anything against her character. I would think her a loyal Katharinian despite her being cold towards me. The problem is, however, that, were secondary consanguinities discounted, she would rank next after Katherine and Elizabeth, and so it is just possible that she might regard herself as having some claim to the throne."

"Yes, Theodora" -- nodded Conrad, pensively -- "her position, I would suppose, with regard to Katharine and Elizabeth, being that by banishing them from the Palace for moral indecency, Alexandra XV had, in effect, expell'd them from the Order, thus disqualifying any claim that either of them might ever have to the throne; and with regard to Your Highness, that Philippa IX had no authority to amend the law of succession, that the application of secondary consanguinities would run counter to the precedent of the Theodoran Settlement of 2822, and that therefore she, Theodora, should be prefer'd over Your Highness as senior not only in age, but in time in the Order, and in descent from an elder sister."

"Well, you really know your shit!" exclaim'd Harriet.

"I, too, am imprest" said the Regnalka. "I doubt if many in my regiment have such a full knowledge of Katharinian history. Let us be clear on one point though: The Regnalka Theodora has never, so far as I know, try'd to advance such a claim on her own behalf."

"Perhaps not," caution'd Conrad, "but when we really don't know whom we can trust, we must consider all possibilities....hmm....The thought occurs to me that if Vrsula were to banish Your Highness, Theodora would find herself in a very tempting position indeed, as she could then use the selfsame argument to oppose the claims of both the rival camps and put forward a claim of her own. Such a claim would not need to address any of the questions concerning secondary consanguinities or the validity of Philippa's final edict, as it would depend only upon questions concerning the nature and effects of banishment."

"Killing two birds with one stone, as it were," observed Harriet.

"I've thought of that possibility," acknowledged the Regnalka "It would certainly complicate things," she agreed.

"It would be a big risk for Theodora though," reminded Conrad, "Is she smart enough to outwit the likes of Katharine and Elizabeth?"

"No," said the Regnalka, "She is not, but she might just be fool enough to try."

* * * * *

Taking their places behind the catafalque that the proud artisans of Pernebhergh had spent the entire night preparing for their beloved sovereign, many of those who now follow'd the great bellfloat that led the solemn procession back to Katharintisten had been sadly reminded of an almost identical procession nineteen years earlier, when they had brought back the body of Philippa IX: The kalendar shew'd the same date. The sky shew'd the same overcast face. The same cool breeze spoke of Summer's end. The same arrangements had been made. One saw many of the same Katharinians -- older now, but just as proudly singing the same timeless dirges. The crown of Alexandra I and the gorgett of St. Katharine the Barefooted sat atop the black velvet pall that now cover'd the catafalque of Alexandra XVI, just as they had once sat atop that of Philippa IX. This time, however, no one could be sure who would wear them next.

As the grim procession enter'd each city -- Iulisa -- Margaritisa -- Bhozetsasina -- Wretarjetsibhergh -- the catafalque came to rest for yet another night in yet another cathedral, and the Regnalka's officers enquired in vain among the officers of yet another garrison for any news from Katharintisten. When the commander of the proud eunuch regiment that by long tradition held the old palace in the old capital proved equally innocent of any news from the new palace in the new capital only a days ride away, they felt finally forced to conclude that Karena had proven a poor prophetess and that the wishfull thinking that they had allow'd themselves to indulge in concerning old Vrsula had been quite vain.

Margarita herself, however, had never entertain'd any such expectations. She had, from the first expected to find Vrsula Bhozetsa alive and well, and as poorly disposed towards Margarita Bhozetsa as ever.

Knowing full well that mounted couriers might have made Katharintisten in one third the time that she would, the Regnalka had nonetheless determined neither to make haste nor to send harbingers ahead of her. It was thus not until she led the funeral procession to the home of the late sovereign's grandparents, to let her lie in state in their great hall for a final night before she would come to rest in the great cathedral that held the remains of every sovereign since Katharine XII, that it was confirm'd to the Regnalka that Vrsula was indeed alive and that she had already heard the news that would put her on the throne.

Accompany'd now by the sad octogenarians who had already attended the funerals of two children and two grandchildren, the procession set out mid-morning and halted in the courtyard of the Palace in the late afternoon; so that the Regnalka could pay homage to her new sovereign, before bringing her former sovereign to the great cathedral where she would sleep away the ages next to her beloved aunt.

Within moments Vrsula herself stept out into the same courtyard, leaning on the arm of an indigo footed Regnalkalka. Walking tall and proud, the Regnalka Margarita stept up to her with an unblinking stare. Taking the wrinkled hands of her scowling sovereign in her own, she fell on her knees and kist them. Then she prostrated herself and kist the bare purple feet. There was absolute silence until Margarita Bhozetsa mounted the bellfloat and proclaim'd as if to highest heaven: <<Alexandra XVI, Sovereign Mother of the Most Holy Order of Saint Katharine the Barefooted and thus Queen by the Grace of Almighty God of All the Lands North of the Break, has been devour'd by the WALPTRÁ ALKÁ. -- God save Vrsula II, our Sovereign Mother!>>

Vrsula's stinging reply rang down on her as she dismounted. <<Margarita Bhozetsa, murderess and liar, thou shalt never again set foot in this our Palace, nor in this our City, nor in any house of our most sacred order.>>

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Five

Zealous for their commander's honour, the faces of Margarita's regiment took on a collective countenance that might well have frighten'd the life out of old Vrsula had the years not so dull'd both her outward and her inward vision. A sea of faces red with rage form'd the words of fierce and terrible oaths, that mixt amongst the grim rattle of steel, as hundreds of hands found the hilts of their swords. Anyone of them, at the slightest hint from her beloved Regnalka, would have been more than willing to run up and slice the old crone in half, though it meant dying herself the death of a regicide on the block, yet the Regnalka restrain'd them, more by quiet gesture and example than by the few soft words that she actually shared with those immediately surrounding her.

Vrsula, apparently unconcern'd what provocation she might cause by such a calculated humiliation, order'd a Læng to fetch her a basin of water, then she order'd Philippa, Margarita's twenty year old niece and first officer, to step forward. <<Philippa Bhozetsa,>> she bellowed, <<wash from my hands and feet the insult of thine unworthy aunt, and pay me the homage of a true Katharinian.>>

Philippa's soul cry'd out to wash those wither'd feet not with water, but with the hag's own blood, and her eyes brighten'd as she plotted how she might do so. She would count her young life well spent if she could avenge the affront of this disgracefull old woman and place Margarita safely upon the throne. She would walk up as if in eager anticipation of being given command of her aunt's regiment as reward for demonstrating her loyalty to Vrsula, then, at the last moment, she would draw her sword and disembowel this monster who had managed to live far too long. Philippa stared for a moment at KShena's firm, proud, naked breasts, and at the broad beheading sword that hung from the belt above the magnificent executioner's blood red skirt almost to her proud, bare, patrician blue feet. -- That would be Philippa's reward -- and she would welcome it; for there was no question but that the honour of the Order would demand her death, and KShena, friend though she were, would not fail in her duty. <<Philippa,>> whisper'd her wise aunt sternly, as she set her bare toes atop those of the younger Regnalka in a gesture intended both to bless and to admonish, <<I can see in thy face what thou hast in mind. Thou must do no such thing. I charge thee rather by the oath that thou hast sworn unto me that thou do in good faith and as a loyal subject all that Vrsula biddeth thee. My time shall come, but it shall not come now, and until it cometh, I shall need thee to command my regiment. Obey her for my sake, Philippa. Trust in God and all will be well.>>

Conrad watcht as a reluctant Philippa set out to do what she had been told. Knowing that all eyes would be on the younger of the regiments two Regnalkana, he quietly moved up to Margarita and began to speak softly to her, quite deliberately using English: "Your Royal Highness, please consider coming South with me and remaining as a guest in my home until this foolish reign run its unhappy course. There would be definite advantages to such an asylum, safely outside the Katharinian realms, yet close enough for news to travel in less than a week if need be. My home is quite private and out of the way, but it is nonetheless only a short ride from Simontisten. Your Highness would be as safe as she might be anywhere, and I and my family would be very much honour'd."

"I assume that you have spoken to the Emperor about this," she whisper'd.

"Yes, I have, and he is in full agreement. His Imperial Majesty wants nothing more than to protect his late sister's chosen successor, but he is convinced that he could not do so nearly as well either in Simontisten or in Iohanetisten. His Majesty and I discust this long ago and were both agreed that this were the best plan in the event of Your Highness being banisht and having to go into exile. His Majesty assured me that he would provide a guard under my personal command of whatever size I thought appropriate.

"Conrad," she protested, "as much as I would enjoy your hospitality, I could not, in good conscience, impose myself upon it in such a way. I could be in exile for a very long time -- and there would be dangers both to you and to your family. Those dangers are not properly yours. It would not be right...."

"My daughter is a Katharinian," he answer'd emphaticly. Any threat to Your Royal Highness is thus a threat to her -- and therefore to me. I shall hear no more about dangers not properly mine."

"Very well then, I shall accept your offer, if that is truly your wish, but it is not well for us to be seen much together now. Step away from me while I speak with my officers and wait until I get back to you."

The Regnalka instructed all of her officers as she had instructed Philippa, they were all to pay homage to Vrsula without reservation. There must be no hint of divided loyalty. Only Karena, her orderly, was to express her wish to follow her mistress into exile. She told only a very few of her most trusted officers where she was going.

Having removed himself from the Regnalka as he had been bidden, Conrad felt very much alone and vulnerable. Here he was an imperial officer, with undyed feet, in the livery and armour of a Katharinian eunuch, and totally dependant, in this potentially hostile situation, upon his personal relationship with a now virtually criminalised Regnalka. If he should come to Vrsula's attention, she might be disposed to treat him as an hostile agent. He was beginning to wish he were a real eunuch instead of a forlorn pretender when one of the real eunuchs stept up to him. It was Ambrose --the designer of the very gorgett that Conrad now felt strangled him. Conrad had once thought Ambrose a worthless fairy, but now he could kiss him, for he came as a much needed friend.

<<Conrad, come with me,>> he whispered in the Changeless Speech, <<We must get thee hence. Fear not, the Regnalka sent me>>

<<What hath my lady told thee?>> ask Conrad cautiously.

<<That she would take refuge with thee,>> answer'd Ambrose, <<but that she thought it best to travel now apart from thee. Now shew me: Where is thine horse?>>

When Conrad had led him the few yards to the waiting beast, Ambrose lifted up the colours of his company and within moments eight other eunuchs rode up to them, leading Ambrose's own mount with them. <<Stay in the midst of us, Conrad,>> order'd Ambrose, <<that thy feet be not seen. We shall go first to the Imperial Embassy that thou mayest change thy livery for that of an Imperial officer. Let us be mounted and gone while all eyes are yet on this sad homage.>>

Suddenly Paula rusht out of the throng and embraced her father. <<Go with God, Father,>> she said, <<and please watch over our Regnalka.>>

<<I shall Paula,>> he assured her, <<but daughter, I fear for thee also. Mind thy father and be very carefull, and may God watch over thee.>> After a brief kiss, he mounted and rode off amid the eunuchs, regretting that he could not remove his daughter also from this now sad city.

Paula watcht fearfully as Ambrose and his little band boldly smuggled her father out of the courtyard in full view of everyone. At least, she consoled herself, he did not have to try to sneak out alone. The unhurried movement of a small mounted company would arouse much less suspicion. Nevertheless it was not until they had got safely through the gates that she felt relaxt enough to breathe normally. Aware as she was that the actual dangers to her father extended well beyond those gates, her ability to anticipate those dangers did not.

Whatever those dangers might have been, Ambrose nonetheless managed to complete his mission without incident, having safely deliver'd Conrad to the Imperial Embassy in the southern quarter of the city. Along the way Ambrose had communicated Margarita's instructions that Conrad wait three more days there before riding forth to meet the Regnalka and her orderly at the home of Margarita's parents on the Iohanetsisa.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Six

The Imperial Ambassador had insisted that Conrad take an half dozen Imperial regulars with him to replace the eunuchs who had return'd to the Palace with Ambrose, but he retain'd them only as far as the Imperial consulate in Alexandretisten. Assuring the rather officious trade attaché‚ who had been left in charge of the facility that he would be quite safe -- and arguably a good deal safer -- in doing so, he continued alone along the southern bank of the Iohanetsisa. It was in any case a ride of hardly half a morning untill the home of the Regnalka's parents appear'd quite plainly on his left between road and river anon he had crost the bridge over the small tributary known as the Marthisa. The house was a stately, but not quite palatial conglomerate of red stone walls and blue slate rooves set in a lovely green meadow.

Conrad turn'd off the road and rode up to the forecourt, very much aware now of his Imperial uniform and especially of his heavy boots. He remember'd having once told Harriet that he would never set a shod foot on Katharinian soil. That might not have been strictly true. On Imperial business he wore the Imperial uniform; and such business had several times taken him to Katharintisten. This was somehow different though. This was the Regnalka's home in the Katharinian countryside and he felt it a trespass to be shod. Odd as he felt about doing so, therefore, when the stable boy came for his horse, he took off the boots and entrusted those to him as well, finally adding his helmet as an afterthought to the surprised boy's rather unusual burden. Thus bareheaded as well as barefooted, Conrad strode up to what he assumed to be the front door, only to find that the bemused Regnalka, who had open'd it for him herself, had been watching from a window. She greeted him with a kiss and a pat of her royal toes atop his; but when he lookt down, he saw that her bare feet were no longer purple but indigo.

"An expedient disguise," she laught, as she usher'd him into the house.

"No permanent, I hope."

"Oh, no, that's why I chose indigo: blue over purple and I can pass as some obscure Regnalkalka -- the daughter of some obscure Imperial prince and a distant Bhozetsa -- visiting a favourite uncle -- in this case your Uncle Regis."

"How convenient -- and Karena?"

"A quite unremarkable traveling companion as she is."

"Well, I see you have a full indigo outfit."

She smiled with satisfaction. "Oh, yes, I provided myself with these things some time ago. A Regnalka never knows when she might want to travel -- hm -- what does one say...?"

"Incognito" supply'd Conrad. "Yes, and I see that the disguise goes somewhat further: hair darken'd as well. Few, I think, would recognise your highness."

The Regnalka nodded. "My hair was always lighter than that of any of my sisters or cousins, but now it's darker than theirs."

"Was your highness follow'd?"

"Not that I was aware of -- and Karena and I both try'd to be vigilant."

"I suppose one could never be absolutely sure."

"No, but my 'instincts,' as you call them, tell me that Vrsula regards herself as fully and finally done with me. My fear is not of any now in Katharintisten."

"Has the news concerning Theodora not reach'd your highness?"

"What news is this?"

"Vrsula has proclaim'd her as First Regnalka."

"So -- perhaps then it was Theodora who had Vrsula's ear all along. Well, she may just have past a sentence of death upon herself for all her trouble. This may well hasten the war."

Conrad nodded his agreement. "Katharine and Elizabeth could hardly afford to ignore such a development. Vrsula might pass away at any time; and if Theodora actually came to the throne -- well -- any claim of theirs would be seen as having been finally disqualify'd."

"As would any claim of mine," added the Regnalka.

"So what happens now?"

"I was hardly more than a girl when Katharine and Elizabeth were banisht. I have no idea what council they keep, but I am sure that they are shrewd enough to know that now is the best time to strike. I would expect that they will march on Katharintisten as soon as this news reaches them. When did Vrsula make the proclamation?"

"The night before last."

"Then they will probably hear of it by tomorrow night -- if their spies are as good as I would expect them to be -- and I would expect their armies at the gates of Katharintisten within a week."

"To take the throne by force?"

"Vrsula's empty head might well be safe, for in fact it would be in our enemies' interests to leave the crown itself where it is for a while. Other heads would not be so safe, and I'm afraid Theodora's would be the first to roll. Katherine would want to do all that she could to legitimise her position. She would want to be regent for a while before she became monarch, and for that she would have to be First Regnalka."

"To take care of such details," ventured Conrad, "as ridding herself of the present archbishop so that she could appoint a successor who would be willing to crown her?"

"Yes, he would be her next victim. God help him."

Something in the sound of her voice seem'd suddenly so painfull that Conrad, who had been staring absently down the hall as they spoke, turn'd with a start to study the Regnalka's face, and beheld a troubled, floor-fixt countenance that a more perceptive man would have recognised as the face of guilt. Wishing to learn what his instincts were too dull to tell him, he probed at the wound that he knew that he had open'd: "Can nothing be done to save him?"

"No," she reply'd, still unwilling to look up, "he'd never allow that. He'll fall between the temple and the altar like Zacharias." Finally she raised her guilty eyes to meet Conrad's, defiantly letting them shame themselves by filling up with tears. "Tell me, Conrad: what do you think my strategy is going to be?"

"I rather think that your highness is planning to give her enemies enough rope to hang themselves," he reply'd dryly.

"Yes," she nodded grimly, "my highness is planning.... My highness, and every other part of me will one day be call'd to answer to God for the plans I make today; and a man much closer to God than I shall ever be will in all probability pay for those plans with his life -- he and how many other innocents? My highness once durst dream that Archbishop Alexander would be the one to lead her to the throne and then anoint and crown her. Now I can only see him as the lamb destined to die for the sins of the Katharinian Order -- and perhaps for mine."

Conrad found the Regnalka's candour quite disconcerting. The strict paternalist in him thought it manifestly unfair that he should be askt to share the moral burdens of his betters. A much worse part of him was flatter'd at the honour of such a confidence. These things did not matter at the last, though, for he knew that she was now turning to him simply as a fellow creature and a fellow Christian.

"My Lady," he reply'd carefully, having decided to avoid another use of 'your highness', "do remember that Alexander chose to stand in the Lamb's stead when he chose to become a priest, and has so stood ever since. What more fitting death could he have? Margarita Bhozetsa feels guilty now about saving her own life when others will loose their lives; but you must remember, Regnalka, that you and your friend the Archbishop have been call'd to do very different things. Your life is not yours to do with as you please; It belongs to all those who pray night and day that you might be their Sovereign Mother. You must live to be that for them. Your going into exile now is a matter of obedience. There is no weakness and no shame in it. You might have done away with Vrsula -- that would have only meant one old, long-spent life -- but you chose not to take that course. That, my lady, would have been the easy way. Do you regret not having taken it?"

"Regret is perhaps too strong a word," she answer'd, already much more in command of herself after Conrad's words, "but I have had doubts about that choice."

"We all doubt our choices, that's only human. Tell me though, what would the Archbishop have had you do concerning Vrsula?"

"Exactly as I did."

"Then think no more of it, for once you had made that choice, all the others were made for you. That one choice brought us here today."

"My niece Philippa would have split her in half. I know: I could see what she was thinking -- just as if it had been happening. I suppose now that if God had wanted that to happen, He would never have shewn it to me," nodded the Regnalka finally.

* * * * *

Dining that evening with the Regnalka's parents proved a less than comfortable experience for Conrad, for it pain'd him to watch as they made a bad job of trying to hide their anxiety behind a façade of formality. The common ground that they might have found in parenthood was now for both benighted by a frightfull, dreary darkness. For all that, the two fathers, distanced as they were by both age and station, shared a nodding, prayerfull glance as Conrad spoke at last of his pride in Paula and of Paula's pride in her Regnalka.

* * * * *

Mounted and ready by mid-morning, Conrad and Karena try'd to be as reassuring as possible as the Regnalka bid goodbye to her parents. They had decided to set off towards the South along a little used road that went up the East bank of the Marthisa, their plan being to avoid the main roads -- and thus the main cities -- entirely until they should arrive at last at the great bridge that would take them out of the Katharinian domain and onto the Island of Peace. They expected to cross that bridge, and indeed to traverse the entire island, during the fourth day of their journey. With luck they might arrive at Conrad's home at the end of the fifth day.

Their first day on the road past without incident, as did their first night. They had determined to sleep in the open, if the weather would let them, rather than deal with innkeepers. They counted themselves fortunate in that they met few people on the road, and, apart from an elderly priest, all were simple peasants travelling for the most parochial of purposes and probably quite unaware of anything that might be happening in Katharintisten. On one occasion, when they had been on the road for less than an hour, the Regnalka felt sure that she recognised someone that she had known in her childhood, but she was equally sure that this old peasant woman had not recognised her.

On their second day they had to pass through a fairly large market town that had grown up where the quiet mountain road that they were taking crost the much busier main road between Bhozetsasina and Margaritisa. They stopt and dismounted, at Karena's insistence, to sample some mutton pies that were giving off a very promising odour. It was late morning in any case and they were all three getting a bit hungry, so having pay'd the pieman, they tied their horses to what appear'd to be some sort of monument and sat down on the surrounding plinth to tuck in. They had no sooner done so, however, than they were accosted by a somewhat over-friendly female who seem'd delighted by the fact that two of the brunchers were Katharinians.

<<I was once a novice in the Katharinian Order,>> she began, proudly pointing to the midnight blue cross on the sole of a bare foot that she had upturn'd immediately she had managed to park her posterior on the small patch of plinth that remain'd at Karena's right. Karena herself was sitting at the Regnalka's right, and the uninvited interlocutor's road dusted right foot crost not only her own left thigh, but so far over Karena's lap as to be very nearly in the Regnalka's.

Karena smiled politely at the cross on the bare sole, whereunto her attention had been so forcefully drawn; and, feeling obliged to do so, gave it a slight prod with a finger of the hand that was not involved in her enjoyment of the mutton pie. <<What prompted thee to leave the order then?>> she inquired with light curiosity.

The one-time novice launcht herself into a lurid tale of sexual abuse with such histrionicks that Conrad, listening from the Regnalka's left, began to hypothesize that she were indeed a presently entertaining, but potentially dangerous victim of some manick ailment.

Conrad noticed that their newly acquired benchmate was leading an elderly and somewhat bad temper'd ass, whose proper mistress she did not at all appear to be. Her clothing seem'd somehow wrong for her. It was a matter neither of style, for she was drest more or less like all the other women on the street, nor of size, for her clothes certainly fit her rather average frame. Perhaps it was only his imagination, but there yet seem'd to him a wrongness about her attire that he could not have put into words. She wore a bandage on her right hand, as though she had burnt or otherwise injured the back of it; yet she did not seem to favour it, and the exposed fingers gestured with a careless, and in fact quite nimble dexterity.

<<If I might be so bold,>> the interloper prest, <<I would ask that ye take me with you, for there is the West gate and I have seen that ye travel West even as I do. I am but a girl alone on a dangerous road and I must see my father in Philippisa ere he die. If in truth ye be bound that way, please take me with you. Julia and I shall be no trouble to you, I promise,>> she said, shaking the reins of her reluctant ass.

<<We could take thee most of the way,>> volunteer'd Karena, with a cheerfull openness for which the Regnalka could have kickt her. Karena did not see the pain'd looks that her mistress exchanged with Conrad, but it would have made no difference for the matter was now virtually settled.

Karena was allow'd to ride in front, with the chattering incarnation of manick importunity who finally introduced herself as Nichola. Conrad and the Regnalka hung back a few paces. They had little sympathy for Karena, as the impetuous orderly could thank her own big mouth for the burden of her present company. They stay'd close enough to monitor the conversation but far enough to avoid any direct involvement therein.

They made camp that night in a clearing in the woods, having put a prudent distance between themselves and the road by way of a path stony enough to hold no tracks to betray them. The Regnalka agreed to Conrad's suggestion that Nichola, whom no one would have thought capable of sleeping in any case, be assign'd the first watch but took it further upon herself to charge the now thoroughly tiresome chatterbox to pass the night in total silence on pain of exile from their company. Thankfull then that she still had the apparent ability to command the obedience even of so difficult a creature, she drifted off into a most welcome sleep. She dreamt a very distressing dream: She was Sovereign Mother at last and she was prest down by the weight of all her multitudinous subjects clamouring for her attention. They were actually pounding on her gorgett! And they were shouting! At last she awoke and sat up to find her blankets soakt in blood and a sever'd head -- Nichola's -- lying in her lap. Conrad stood over her, leaning on his blood-drencht sword.

"A læng, my lady, if I'm not mistaken. Let's see." He spoke in English, knowing that the now equally wakefull Karena more or less understood the strange tongue that she had for many years been freely allow'd to overhear, and would thus not feel excluded. He seized the bandaged hand that clutcht the dagger in a death grip, and using it to drag the headless body off the Regnalka's feet, lay'd it at last over a fallen log, upon which makeshift block, when he had fetcht again his sword, he struck it off at the wrist. With the tendons thus sever'd, he could now open the hand to release both dagger and bandage. <<It's the hand of a læng all right,>> he pronounced, bringing it back to shew the Regnalka. <<We shall have to take this with us. These faculty marks may well reveal the identity of its former owner.>>

<<Wilt thou then carry it with thee in one of thy panniers?>> gaspt Karena in the Changeless speech. <<God help us, but it looks so like the hand of Priscill‘ng!>>

<<No,>> answer'd the Regnalka in a tone that rose gradually from politely smiling sarcasm to thundering rebuke, <<thou shalt carry it with thee in one of thy panniers. Perhaps that will teach thee to mind that great gaping mouth of thine.>>

A redfaced and somewhat shaken Karena genuflected before her mistress and then obediently took the hand from Conrad, washt it in a nearby stream, and calmly added it to the burden of her own uncomplaining beast. <<Shall I rinse out thy blanket now, Regnalka?>> she askt meekly upon her return to her now standing mistress.

<<No, Karena, throw it away, we have others. We can count ourselves fortunate that nothing else was ruin'd.>> -- "Well, Conrad," she said at last, shifting to English as she turn'd to face her fortuitous saviour of a few moments before, "you credit me with good instincts, but God be praised, how did you ever know?"

"God be praised indeed, your highness. I don't really know. Something just told me to stay awake and watch her. It seems I did a fair job of feigning sleep. In any case, she did not waste much time before making her move."

Conrad drag'd the carcass off into the woods so that they would not be bother'd by whatever came to eat it, and taking the head up by the hair, hove it off in another direction. He quite honestly did not care what became of it, but he did not want it staring at them in the light of the now well risen full moon.

"What shall we do with the ass?" he askt the Regnalka.

"Take off her trappings and send her away," she commanded. "If we kept her with us, she'd be more of a threat than she'd be worth. Bought, hired, or stolen as she may have been, there's no telling who might recognise her. Bring me the saddlebags, though. I'd like to have a look through them myself. Did you find anything on the body?"

"Yes, this, nothing to tell us anything but it's more than the poor ass is worth. Hard to know what to do with it." He handed the Regnalka a small leather purse with an assortment of coins in it.

"Blood money is a curse," she nodded, "but we can always give it to some pauper."

Conrad nodded and fetcht the panniers. "I rather doubt if there's anything there that we'd want to know about."

"Hm, no," she conceded after a brief examination in the moonlight. "Some shabby clothes, two bottles of liquid that I wouldn't dare taste, and some dried meat that I really don't care to know about. I hate to spoil the ground with this trash, but we'll have to leave it behind."

"Enough worries for tonight, my lady," suggested Conrad with a gentleness that outbalanced any presumption. Get some sleep -- Karena, too -- I'll stay awake a while."

He was glad to see that a now forgiven Karena felt free to curl up next to her mistress and go back to sleep. The scene was so peacefull that anon Conrad himself fell asleep watching them, but there was really no need for a watch.

* * * * *

The next days were uneasy ones, for they had no idea how the Læng might have found them, or for that matter who she had really been or who her confederates were. Worst of all, they had no idea how many others like her might be waiting for them. They askt each other constantly, but they got no answers. They felt especially vulnerable on the day that they crost the Island of Peace. As it turn'd out, however, they arrived at Conrad's door in time for a late supper on the fifth day of their journey and that without the least hint of any further trouble.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Seven

Humiliated as Margarita herself might have been by the circumstances of her departure, it was in many ways an even more difficult burden for her three nieces to bear. Unfortunately it was upon Philippa, the youngest and least prepared, that this burden fell most heavily. Philippa had had no wish to hasten the day when she might have been given command of a carefully recruited regiment of perhaps four hundred docile and unassuming young peasant girls with an even more carefully seconded officer corps of very supportive veterans. Her cousins, Martha and Augusta, had each been given such relatively easy first commands when they had done with their respective stints as their aunt's first officer. Now, however, with precious little preparation, Philippa had to deal with all the petty jealousies and personality conflicts that one might expect in her aunt's own very mixt, and quite enormous regiment of over 2400. She had fear'd the worst, but in fact the whole regiment closed ranks around her and made things a good deal easier than she had expected. She was much hearten'd by the fact that everyone obey'd her without question, and was even more pleasantly surprised to find that, by some apparent miracle, her senior officers actually managed, for the most part, to resist what she was sure must have been enormous temptations to give her unsolicited advice.

Margarita had managed a quiet word with each of her patrician officers -- and with a good many among the lower ranks as well -- before her departure, and that had been quite sufficient. She had also been grooming and preparing her young niece for just such a possibility to a far greater extent than Philippa had been aware. More than this, however, the young Regnalka was constantly borne up upon the prayers of her exiled aunt: The crown, God willing, might some day pass to Martha, her eldest niece; but Margarita's prayer for the regiment that she herself had founded and workt for twenty years to build, was that it now might be Philippa's -- for as long as Philippa lived.

The regiment currently had three active officers of indigo rank, each of whom had command over roughly one/third of the Bhozamagána. These, along with the captain of the eunuchs, and Philippa herself, had form'd what might have been term'd Margarita's general staff. When Philippa took over as commander, she forbare to appoint any first officer to replace herself, but rather chose to give to each of these her chief lieutenants a somewhat greater share of responsibility than they had hitherto carry'd. She gave Harriet a special appointment as her personal advisor, a move which quite legitimately brought Paula as well into her inner circle, and which Philippa hoped might thus somehow facilitate communications with the exiled Margarita. Such an appointment might ordinarily have been confer'd along with a promotion to the indigo rank. This would have pleased Philippa almost as much as it would have pleased Harriet, and it would, in many ways, have been a great convenience to both of them. Unfortunately, however, such a promotion could not be confer'd without a royal warrant, and Philippa felt that she had been most soundly advised by her aunt and erstwhile commander to bring neither her own name, nor the names of any in her regiment, before Vrsula, save in the most urgent of cases. Harriet fully agreed: Anyone fool enough to call attention to herself in these troubled times, might well be calling down her own doom.

An absolute and total avoidance of any sort of distinction in fact became a very strict matter of regimental policy. They kept to their own establisht routines with no changes whatever and were studiously careful to win neither praise nor reprimand. Above all, they did nothing to displease Vrsula and treated her always with the most appropriate and apparently genuine reverence.

Unsettled as she may have been by the news of Theodora's elevation, Philippa appear'd to take it with total equanimity, as though it were of no concern to her at all. This strategy of respectful indifference was one that she decided upon along with her cousins Martha and Augusta and one that they all alike enjoin'd upon their respective regiments. It proved wise in the sense that it could be conversely said that the new Sovereign Mother and her First Regnalka seem'd content to play more or less the same game; as if some royal instinct that remain'd fortuitously sublimated told both Vrsula and Theodora that they would find very little support within the palace durst they disturb the status quo any more than they had done already.

Vrsula had chosen a Sunday evening, just after the feast and moments before the ringing of the bell for benediction, to formally announce the new status that she had chosen to confer upon the obsequious Theodora. This was to be Vrsula's last publick act, for thereby she completed the small circle of sycophants whereunto she would withdraw until her death. She thus managed, though for only a brief ten days, to becalm the palace with that unsettling sham of peace which so oft precedes an impending disaster.

* * * * *

On one of these wansælig nights, Harriet and Sarah were awaken'd by a knock on the door of their sitting room. They had fallen asleep at opposite ends of the very long day bed whereupon they had indulged in the final glass of wine that had at last relieved them of their uneasy wakefulness.

Harriet ran up to the door, a quilt wrapt around her naked body, and query'd in the Changeless Speech: <<Who knocketh?>>

<<The Regnalka Philippa and her orderly,>> announced the less prestigious of said pair, <<May we come in?>>

<<We have nothing on us,>> warn'd Sarah from the day bed, as she too wrapt a quilt around herself and sat up.

<<Neither have we,>> reassured Philippa. <<Please let us in. We need to talk.>>

Harriet and Sarah were not at all surprised to hear this. Most Katharinians slept naked; and although both Regnalka and orderly would have been careful to dress fully before descending from their state apartments on the royal floors above; they had, upon Margarita's example, virtually abandon'd these several months ago in favour of a suite on the same corridor occupy'd by most of their regimental officers -- only just across the corridor, in fact, from the one that Harriet and Sarah shared -- and a quilt -- at least after a certain hour -- was consider'd a quite sufficient covering for such an intermural visit. When Harriet open'd the door, she saw that the young Regnalka had indeed so cover'd herself (although her quilt was somewhat more sumptuous than Harriet's). Little Ghanzrelka, however, had obviously not bother'd, and she now shiver'd so in her stark white nakedness as to seemingly pun her name, which in the Changeless Speech meant 'gosling'.

<<Come in, little goose,>> laught Harriet, as she extended a warm smile and a hand to the improvident orderly, <<ere thou freeze.>>

The night was unusually cold for early autumn and Harriet and Sarah had thought it well to have a small fire before retiring. Although it was now well past midnight, there was enough of it left to revive by the quick addition of some more wood chips. Harriet attended to this and also put some of Nikonor's famous coffee on to boil while she had her unexpected guests sit down upon the thick hearth rug, watching as a compassionate Philippa made sure that Ghanzrelka sat on the hearthward side of her, and shared her quilt to warm the little nudist.

<<We shall have some excellent coffee in a moment,>> said Harriet cheerfully, thankful for the steaming hot water provided by the palace plumbing,<<--Nikonor's best.>>

<<Yes,>> observed Philippa, <<we are fortunate in having such good friends in the Embassy -- including the Ambassador himself -- those friendships may prove very valuable in these times.>>

<<The Preservers are bound never to involve themselves in our affairs of state,>> warn'd Harriet sadly, <<--as well thou wost.>>

<<True, there are limits to their favours,>> nodded Philippa, <<but we cannot know those limits until we ask.>>

<<And what, Regnalka, wouldst thou ask?>> inquired Harriet.

<<That Nikonor be transfer'd to the consulate in Simontisten.>>

<<That we might have an almost instant communication with our former commander,>> said Harriet, first nodding her head and then shaking it, <<That may already be too much to ask.>>

<<Depending, perhaps on how it be askt, and by whom,>> said Philippa, with a pointed stare and a nod to Harriet.

Harriet pointed to herself and return'd the same stare before asking: <<Why now, Regnalka, hath aught else happen'd?>>

<<No,>> admitted Philippa, rather uncomfortably. <<No, Harriet, our visit was, in truth, not prompted by any such concerns. I came as a sinner to ask you both to pray for me.>>

<<But, Regnalka, surely...>> began Harriet evasively.

Philippa lifted a hand. <<Ye would send me to Father Philip -- and rightly -- but it was he who suggested that I speak to you. He told me that ye have won a victory which has not yet been mine -- and that ye would not mind speaking of it.>> She paused and regarded her hostesses.

Harriet and Sarah remember'd now how, as penance for a night of sin, they had promised that if God gave them grace to overcome that sin, they would share their victory with other sinners. Father Philip had some odd ideas about penance.

<<It is plain that ye love each other with a love that goes far beyond friendship, and yet that love is by all appearances, and, I must say, by all accounts, pure and chaste,>> observed Philippa. <<Am I wrong in this?>>

<<It is true,>> answer'd Sarah carefully, <<that we have long loved each other even as thou hast said. By God's Grace we have kept our bodies from actual sin for many years now; but before we learnt this discipline we knew a night of burning shame when we gave each other every sinful pleasure that two women could ever invent for themselves. Believe me, Regnalka, whatever thou mayest have done, we have surely done the same ourselves -- if it be indeed such sin whereof thou speakest. We tasted each other's bodies until-->> she paused, shamed by her own vain attempts to clothe the still potent memory of such monstrous lust in some lilting metaphor -- <<well -- until morning.>> She paused, shaking her head, and then added: <<One last thought, Regnalka: Our love is now a far more beautifull thing than it was before -- and I would say that it is God given -- but it is not yet pure, for there is still an unclean part of it that shameth me with temptation and it is only my honour as a Christian that holdeth it in check.>>

Harriet nodded grimly, but then with a smile suggested: <<Perhaps that is why God suffereth us to be tempted -- to forge and temper and polish that honour -- like a good sword.>>

<<My sword is broken then,>> confest Philippa bitterly. <<And my honour is as shit; for I have sin'd with my Ghanzrelka here almost every night since Sunday -- yea and this night also. How can I presume to pray to God with the taste of her body still in my mouth?>> She paused and then added, as if to console herself, <<At least the sin is mine alone, and not hers. My little gosling may share the pleasure but not the sin,>> she affirm'd, cuddling the much smaller girl protectively and kissing the top of her head as one might a dog's.

<<God help us!>> gaspt Harriet, appall'd by what she saw as a grotesque display of moral immaturity. <<Say something, Sarah,>> she whisper'd forcefully, as she shut her eyes and sank her long fingers into the wrinkled flesh above her brows. <<I have no words for this.>>

Sarah knew that Harriet credited her with having the better sense of spiritual matters, but she herself was not so sure that this were so, and at the moment was less than delighted about being defer'd to. She stared at the diminutive decade of yellow-green toes that protruded from Ghanzrelka's side of Philippa's purple and gold quilt, asserting their right to such sumptuous surroundings by their appropriately purple nails, which proclaim'd them as those of a Regnalka's orderly. A stranger might have imagin'd that the whole of the little peasant girl might have been as richly decorated, for in fact no other portion of her could presently be seen, as she snuggled contentedly under the protective arm of her royal mistress, apparently having found the warm solace of a breast. As the quilt moved mysteriously, and the small green feet carest the larger purple ones, Sarah's normally sanguine complexion blusht a decidedly deeper red. She felt her eyes widen and her mouth drop.

<<Say something, Sarah!>> repeated Harriet. This time her whisper was much louder -- and accompanied by a kick.

<<Ghanzrelka, get thee out from under that quilt!>> demanded Sarah, having at last found words to express her indignation. <<We need no demonstrations here, as thy mistress hath told us more than enough of this debauchery. What I would have of thee is an account of how this sin began.>>

<<It is not my place to speak,>> she demur'd in petulant humility as she arose to stand, small and naked, blushing before her betters.

<<Nor is it thy place to seek thy pleasure beneath thy lady's quilt,>> rejoin'd Sarah rather acidly. <<Now tell me: How many years hast thou?>> <<We had been celebrating my seventeenth birthday the night we first sin'd.>>

Sarah nodded slowly. She could assume that both sinners had been doing a good deal of celebrating that evening, and not all of it so joyous as it had also been the evening of Theodora's elevation; and she could easily guess at the rest of the story. She knew herself how sin could lie in wait, perhaps for years, and then finally ensnare its victim in some moment of weakness. In this case, the wait must have been a long one, for by Katharinian custom, the Regnalka and her orderly would have been assign'd to each other on the same day that would have seen the end of both of their novitiates, two and a half years ago, as best Sarah could calculate. Ghanzrelka, after what would most likely have been only a six month novitiate, would have still been only fourteen; but Philippa's novitiate, typical of a Regnalka's, would have been closer to thirty months, and she who had turn'd twenty some months ago, would have already been eighteen when it ended.

<<Ghanzrelka,>> began Sarah again, with a seriousness now temper'd with a bit more compassion, <<hast thou ever sin'd this sin before?>>

<<When I had lived only twelve years, I went to visit a spinster aunt -- my mother's elder sister. That very afternoon a WALPTR came and ate everyone in the village where I had been born, including my parents. My aunt gave me a home and she loved me -- yea, and I loved her -- and love her still -- but she taught me the wrong kind of love. I sin'd with her each night until I was fourteen -- then I left to become a Katharinian. I thought that I could thus escape it, and as God beholdeth me, I kept myself chaste for three years. In truth, however, I had inwardly long'd, since the day that I became my Regnalka's, for her to possess me in that one last way. The sin is far more mine than hers,>> confest the now tearful orderly, <<for I tempted her.>>

<<How?>>

<<I saw early on that she would make a pet of me. I was so little next to her. I found that I enjoy'd the part and so I was content to play it. I took pleasure in her touch and I return'd her affection. At first, I did so only in an innocent, doglike way, yet by degrees I began to respond to her more lustfully. I had only to wait for such a night as we had on my birthday. Then, when the time came, I took from her all that I had wanted and more. Thus, ye may know that I am the sinner here.>>

<<Ye are both sinners,>> pronounced Sarah at last, <<and the disposition shewn by each to excuse the other is not born of so pure a love as one might think; for in excusing her fellow sinner, each would spare herself the burden of having corrupted another soul besides her own. Oh, for the private little harmless sin! -- but alas -- there can scarcely ever be such -- not among Katharinians in any case, for we are all in a sense members of one another, and when one sinneth all are corrupted, both by the blatant, spreading stain of bad example, and in far more subtle ways as well.>>

<<What other ways?>> askt the young Regnalka. <<What taint of sin might spread besides the bad example?>>

<<Loss of respect,>> answer'd Sarah firmly, <<for ourselves, for each other, for our superiors,>> -- [she let this word drop from her tongue like a drop of acid] -- <<for our entire order.>>

Philippa bury'd her face in her hands. <<Then I am yet the greater sinner,>> she concluded soberly.

<<Oh, yes, Regnalka,>> agreed Sarah, <<thou art by far the greater sinner, for thou art the elder, and the better born, and the better train'd as well; but most importantly, thou art a Regnalka, our Regnalka, our only Regnalka now, -- our hope, our strength, our example, -- our pride, our honour, -- our commander.>>

<<I have soil'd you then, and I have shamed you,>> confest Philippa, breaking into tears. She stumbled across the small space between the floor cushions and sank to her knees in front of Sarah, embracing her rather reluctant confessor and burying her face in the ruin'd right shoulder, as she repeated, <<soil'd and shamed you all, God forgive me.>>

<<Get thee up, Philippa Bhozetsa,>> Sarah heard herself command as she managed to lift the Regnalka to her feet with a grace and strength that astounded both of them. Sarah, though no longer a Lesbian, was yet a winebibber and a glutton, and God had punish'd her accordingly. Regnalkana were carefully bred for their imposing size, and the result shew'd well in this twenty-year-old who was both fully as heavy as the thirty-eight-year-old chocolate-scoffer and a full head higher. Sarah had also two further disadvantages in that she herself began the lift from a cross-legged sitting position; and, with Philippa's weight largely borne on her bad right shoulder, could not make the best use of her good left arm. -- Yet lift her she did, and with such apparent grace that it would have seem'd that whatever angel had been sent to monitor the situation had been moved to lend an invisible hand at that point.

<<A Regnalka kneeleth not before a subordinate,>> pronounced Sarah finally, as she lookt steadfastly up into the eyes of the now standing Philippa, <<nor crieth she on the broken shoulder of a fat old cripple,>> she added, managing a grin as she patted the part of herself that had been so painfully put upon. <<She kneeleth rather before God and prayeth for the strength to be that which she was born to be.>>

<<And her regiment kneeleth behind her,>> added Harriet, who had meanwhile found an extra quilt for Ghanzrelka and knelt beside her as she too repented for her sins. Distasteful as she had found this entire encounter, Harriet was now happily relieved that the convicting phase of it was over, and that she could now resume a supporting rôle with regard to the Regnalka.

<<We would be pleased to kneel behind thee now, Regnalka,>> offer'd Sarah, her rosy countenance now brighten'd by a warm smile of Christian sisterhood, as she gestured towards the small but lovingly decorated gradine before which she and Harriet were wont to share their devotions. Behind this gradine was a beautifully carved and painted Christus Rex. Upon it, they kept a pair of votive candles ever alight and there they also kept their prayer books. The frontal that hung down from the gradine shelf, and hid the shallow cabinet that supported it, was of a rich green brocade, whereupon they had wrought together to embroider an image of St. Katharine the Barefooted praying before the Virgin and Child.

All four knelt and pray'd as Sarah had suggested; and all four rededicated themselves to the vows that each had sometime broken. At times they pray'd aloud; at times all four silently. They pray'd for a good part of the night, turning to their petitions once their confessions were done. At last all four arose, embraced and kist each other.

Harriet, however, had one last thanksgiving. She fell back to her knees and kist Philippa's hands saying: <<I thank my God that He hath forged anew my pride in my commander.>> Then she bow'd down and kist the purple feet.

* * * * *

"Speak of the Devil!" laught Sarah, as she answer'd the door to discover that the morning's first caller was none other than Nikonor. "We were talking about you only last night -- complementing your coffee, in fact. You haven't come to bring us more, have you?" she smiled in happy anticipation, as she spoke in easy, animated English.

The coffee smuggling Preserver smiled warmly, and began his reply with a conspiratorial wink: "Before the day is over, I'll give you some that my brother just sent me, the best I've tasted in two or three years. That's not why I'm here though. I'd like you to come to the Embassy this morning if you're free. Andrew would like a word with you," he concluded in a whisper.

Sarah turn'd to Harriet, who had now join'd them in the doorway, "That shouldn't be a problem, should it?"

"I shouldn't think so," reply'd Harriet, as she turn'd from Sarah to Nikonor: "Our commander will be in conference with her cousins now -- so we'll just leave word with Ghanzrelka."

As Harriet attended to this bit of regimental courtesy, she remember'd something that rather spoilt her anticipation of a morning to be spent with her old friends: Philippa would be expecting her to have that 'talk' with Andrew.

It was a lovely crisp, autumn morning, so they decided to walk outside across the canal bridge, rather than use the subterranean tunnel that connected the Palace with the Embassy. The section of the Embassy immediately across from the West wall of the Palace served as an hospital, but since the suites on the ground floor of this section were largely given over to residential use, either by senior physicians or by convalescent Katharinians of he higher ranks (and there were currently quite few of these), they met little traffick as they made their way down the immensely long corridor towards the great octagonal tower, that served as Andrew's residence now that he was the Ambassador. Harriet and Sarah liked to put on full dress armour when they visited the Embassy -- even though Sarah's girth now obliged her to compromise with regard to her belt. They made a point of padding along briskly enough so that their patrician blue mantles billow'd slightly behind them and the chains of their greaves tingled over the tops of their feet as the toe-rings that anchor'd their foot plates rang against the cold, white, marble floor that chill'd their bare soles. It was all very sensuous and very tatty, and very Katharinian, and after almost twenty years in the order, they still delighted in it. Besides -- they were going to have an audience with the Ambassador himself, and the fact that they could claim the Ambassador as their old friend and teacher made it even better.

The Ambassador's apartments were located in the upper part of one of eight outwardly identical octagonal towers that form'd the corners of the far greater octagon that the huge Embassy compound described around a private park. To get to these upper rooms, one had to climb up through three tiers of balconies that surrounded what Harriet and Sarah were inclined to think of as a 'grand ballroom' although they knew that it was very unlikely that in all the seventeen centuries that the Embassy had stood there that it had ever play'd host to anything like a ball or indeed ever might do so in future.

Finally, at the end of what proved for poor Sarah to be a very exhausting climb, they met their host amid the very forbidding grandeur of his formal audience room. The cold severity of this chamber was realized in hard, square trim'd surfaces of gold, marble, and onyx; and Sarah disliked it for the same reason that she had disliked so much of the self-consciously 'modern' decor that had been popular in the parent world during her own childhood there: It seem'd to abhor even the least reference, either in materials or in motif, to any form of life or indeed to any natural object.

"Still don't like this room much, do you Sarah?" laught Andrew from beside a window at the far end of it. "No, well, it's not much to my taste either. Come on through then, we'll all be much more comfortable in my sitting room." He invited them by gesture to cross round the polisht black monstrosity that he refused to have for a desk and precede him through a door that he held open beside him. In a moment, they were in the aforementioned sitting room.

Sarah had seen both rooms before, but only once, and that only days after Andrew had been named Ambassador -- when she and Harriet had been invited for a late breakfast. She was very pleased to see that he had now totally redecorated the sitting room in his own style. She sat down on a day bed next to Harriet and Nikonor and workt her bare toes into the thick, rich, moss green carpet.

The old Preserver had always taken a great pleasure in playing host to his friends. He was one of the few members of his order who could forge real friendships with outsiders, and this despite his having all the social disabilities of a hopelessly pedantic scholar. The simple act of pouring a cup of coffee for a guest held an almost mystical significance for Andrew; and Sarah felt this as she watcht him smiling across the low table as he handed her a cup.

"I am sure you will both agree," he said, stopping to inhale the aroma from his own cup before putting it to his lips, "that this is some of the best coffee that Nikonor has ever brought us."

"Mm, quite!" quoth Harriet, "This is delicious."

Sarah smiled at Andrew's now beaming younger colleague and shook her head as if in disbelief: "I can't but agree."

"I regret then, ladies, that after this blessèd batch, we shall all have to be content with commercial coffee, for I have decided upon a course of action which will necessitate Nikonor's immediate departure for Simontisten."

Harriet's jaw dropt -- then her expression slowly changed to a grin.

"Yes, Harriet," the Ambassador nodded, "our loss will be your former commander's gain. The Regnalka Margarita has long been one of my dearest friends," he explain'd in a tone intended to convey his moral misgivings about the course he had chosen, "I could hardly allow myself to lose contact with her."

"You are bending your rules a bit, aren't you?" askt Harriet soberly.

"Perhaps so, but we are not breaking them. I am one hundred and forty-five years old, Harriet, I was born during the saintly reign of Philippa VIII and have lived here since the reign of Katharine XIX. I have seen many wise and many good Regnalkána -- but none so worthy of our help as Margarita. So --" he added with a pause, "we must now make haste, for I have learnt that all four of the once banisht Regnalkana departed Leonisa yesterday morning with an army of almost twenty thousand eunuchs. They will be here within a few days."

* * * * *

Deciding that they were long overdue for redecoration, Andrew began experimenting with various window treatments in the unoccupy'd rooms of the Ambassadorial tower -- particularly those that faced the Palace. Harriet and Sarah took more than a passing interest in this process, for in fact the changing patterns told them everything that they might have wanted to know about the Leonisisana and the eunuchs who follow'd their grim standard. Almost nothing of any importance took place without the Preservers knowing of it; and their communications -- which were a total mystery to outsiders -- were virtually instantaneous. Although they took to themselves no authority over the lives of ordinary men, the Preservers tended to be well respected by the good, and carefully respected by the bad; for while it was a well known fact that they never took any active part in warfare, it was also generally conceded that if they ever did, there would be no contest against them; for history recorded that on those very few occasions when anyone had been fool enough to threaten them, they had demonstrated an ability to quite literally call down lightning from heaven in defence of their interests. The extent to which Andrew may or may not have been bending the rules to which he was bound was not at all within the ken of any Katharinian -- nor would he have been willing to tell them -- but Harriet and Sarah, as well as both their present and former commanders, were deeply grateful in any case; for when the dreadful morning came, although Vrsula and Theodora may have been caught unawares, they, at least, were not.

Katharine, the scandalous reprobate who had, for the past forty years ruled Leonisa as a virtually independent realm of vice, approacht the Palace gates along with her sister, Elizabeth, who had been banisht with her and their two more recently banisht nieces. They came, ostensibly, in peace, but the hordes of eunuchs who fill'd the far bank of the canal to the East of the Palace, and were already swarming to take up similarly intimidating positions to the North and South, made their actual intentions quite clear.

Vrsula, although of good reputation with regard to her own behaviour, had also a bad reputation as an easy dupe and a poor judge of character, for she had always been ready to give the highest credit to flattery, and never been willing to believe anything that she might have found at all embarrassing or uncomfortable. She not only admitted to the Palace these sinful travesties of Regnalkana whom her more discerning predecessors had so rightly banisht but embraced them as long lost sisters. That very afternoon Katharine was proclaim'd First Regnalka and Theodora was executed for treason.

KShena, as the senior executioner in the palace, was call'd upon to dispatch the venial opportunist who had been First Regnalka for ten short days. As an execution of this sort required an assistant, Harriet was also compell'd to take part. As a traitor -- and it was later well noted that none but her most unworthy successor had ever judged her such -- Theodora was to have both her feet cut off at the dye line before being beheaded. Neither KShena nor Harriet held any hatred for their victim. They were, in fact, deeply offended that Katharine, who was now acting as regent, had arrested Theodora's chaplain and forbidden him access to the scaffold (although they later learnt to their relief that he had already shriven her that morning), and they were also anger'd to learn that the traditional anæsthetic was, by Katharine's cruel command, being withheld. The victim was obliged to prostrate herself upon a low wooden table or bench. KShena nodded to her respectfully before going round to cut off both her feet with a single blow of her great sword. Harriet pickt up these sever'd appendages and carry'd them round to set before the victim's face, pronouncing all the while the ancient curse wherewith all traitors were cursed. Unwilling to cry out in pain, Theodora recited her prayers. Katharine would not allow the mercy stroke but taunted her victim until she exsanguinated.

Harriet watcht as the pain rackt Regnalka fought back tears of shame, and felt her own eyes fill with tears of pity and of rage. Although she knew that Theodora had indeed been a shameless sycophant and a scheming opportunist, a voice from deep within, a voice that Harriet trusted, now told her that this ill fated Regnalka had not borne false witness against Margarita. With her lips she pronounced mechanically the curse that would forever sunder from the sisterhood this fallen Bhozetsa who had given her whole life to it: Yet her heart cry'd out in silence: <<No! It's not true! Thou art a Katharinian, now and forever! Please die like one!>> and her soul echo'd the 'Hail Mary's' whereby the brave Regnalka strove to retain her composure.

At the last the dying Theodora cry'd out. <<Vrsula, my Sovereign Mother, may God Forgive thee.>>

All eyes turn'd towards the royal balcony as the guilty Sovereign Mother slank away in shame. She would not be seen again by any save her chaplain, her personal attendants, and presumably the sinful creature who had seized for herself the powers of a regent.

KShena, her proud, bare breasts heaving with the same anger that Harriet felt, finally struck off Theodora's head at Katharine's command.

The cruel regent then commanded that Theodora's remains be taken away and burnt with dung, but this was not to be; for no sooner had a pair of Katharine's eunuchs begun to carry out her command, than a WALPTR, a young male, appear'd out of the Southern sky, set down in their midst, and frighten'd them away. All fell on their faces before this angel of death -- all except Katharine.

The WALPTR turn'd and faced her and spoke in his terrible voice: <<Stand if it please thee, impious whore. None of my kind would touch thy flesh.>> Then he carefully devour'd all of Theodora's remains and flew away, forebearing to regurgitate the bones upon the site as would have been his wont.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Eight

On the following morning, Philippa and all of her patrician officers were call'd upon to appear before the new regent. They were to stand before this monster in the same room whereunto Alexandra XVI had call'd them on the day that she had designated Margarita as her chosen (or at least prefer'd) successor. As they gather'd in the corridor to proceed to this audience, they were all whispering to each other various versions of the same ominous question: Had Katharine any idea of what had happen'd on that day, or of what Alexandra had askt of them; and if she had, how long might their heads be safe?

Entering the sumptuous reception room, they beheld all their order's ills incarnate upon the throne that now belong'd to Vrsula. Philippa led her officers into the room and down to the foot of the throne before which she also led them in a respectful genuflect.

Sarah, with the train'd sight of an artist, study'd the face of the beast that they were now obliged to obey. Time had render'd a far harsher judgement on Katharine's sixty-three years than he had on Vrsula's eighty-two, and she lookt all the more the hag for all her vain rebellion against the judgement. More than any other, the face that Sarah saw before her reminded her of a painting that she had once seen of Isidora IV. The effects were not as extreme as those immortalised by the long dead artist, but they were none the less discernible and Sarah had little doubt that they had been brought about by the selfsame vice. Katharine did not present the gross obesity of Isidora, nor did she actually sport a moustache, but Sarah stood close enough to see that she both needed to shave her face daily, and had recently done so. Katharine also exhibited a markt degree of acromegalia, which in her case produced not only enormous hands and feet but also a protruding snout, a nutcracker jaw and a positively Neanderthal brow ridge.

Sarah had yet to see Elizabeth, Katharine's younger sister and partner in vice, this close up, but she had noticed many of the same distortions in her features even from a distance; and suspected that she had suffer'd a similar masculinisation. Sarah hoped that she would not be call'd upon to do any official portraits of these monsters. She had seen numerous portraits of Leona XXI, the last Katharinian ruler to indulge in the Isidorian vice to a sufficient extent to have it clearly evidenced in her visage, and she had heard the dreadfull stories of what had been done to court painters who had fail'd to flatter her in spite of this. She remember'd, moreover, that Leona's countenance, even in the totally honest portraits that were painted after her death, shew'd less corruption than the one that she now beheld. When Katharine finally addrest their commander in a deep baritone, Sarah noticed that many of her companions were, like herself, constrain'd to wear the most painfull looking grimaces in order to avoid gasping, or, worse yet, outright laughter.

<<Philippa, my good cousin,>> began the regent rather formally, <<I believe that this is the first time that we have met.>>

<<I believe that that is so,>> confirm'd the young commander, carefull not to reveal her anxiety in a tone that she intended only to be polite.

<<Regrettable,>> smiled the regent, <<but I have been away.>>

Philippa did not dare reply, but only nodded politely.

<<I am told that the Regnalka -- or should we say former Regnalka -- Margarita is currently away. How unfortunate,>> commented the regent sarcasticly, as she folded her long, bony fingers in contemplation. <<I am also told that thou art her niece, and that the regiment that thou commandest was, until recently, hers. Is this not so?>>

<<Even as thou hast said,>> affirm'd Philippa carefully.

<<I noticed that all of you genuflected before me when ye approacht. Is that now the appropriate courtesy towards the First Regnalka -- even for a patrician company under the command of a Regnalka?>> question'd the regent, as if hoping for some improper answer.

<<As regent, thou sittest upon the Sovereign Mother's throne. It is before that throne, as loyal Katharinians that we genuflect,>> answer'd Philippa, with a deferential nod.

<<Ah, yes, as loyal Katharinians,>> smiled the regent as she return'd the nod. <<To whom wilt thou be loyal, good cousin: to me, or to that aunt of thine?>>

<<Margarita is indeed my close kinswoman, but she ceased to be my aunt, in our Katharinian sense, when she ceased to be my commander. My only safe and honourable course as a Katharinian is to give my loyalty to my Sovereign Mother, and thus to obey, without question, the regent empower'd to speak for her,>> answer'd Philippa.

<<Well and carefully said, my good Philippa,>> rejoin'd the regent. <<If thou continue to behave as well and as carefully as thou hast spoken, thou mayst keep thy command, thy coronet, and thy head; but if I even smell the least disloyalty in thee, thou shalt loose all three, and they feet as well. Am I understood?>>

<<Yes, my lady, thou art well understood.>>

<<One last question, then, my loyal cousin: Where is Margarita Bhozetsa?>>

<<When my former commander was banisht by our Sovereign Mother, I did indeed ask her where she would go; but she said that she felt that it would be safer not to tell me,>> reply'd Philippa in half-truth.

<<How very wise of her,>> observed the regent. <<I shall find her if I need her; but I have no need of her now; nor, for the present, have I any further need of any of you, so I shall thank you all to shew yourselves out.>>

* * * * *

KShena received another summons that afternoon, this time to behead the Chief Læng. Unlike the unlucky Theodora, however, this victim was permitted to make whatever arrangements she liked. Harriet was very thankful that on this occasion she would be only an onlooker, as the Lengna themselves would be providing all the assistance that KShena would need. Proud and naked, Evæng haten, the Chief Læng was, as her office demanded, of patrician origin., She was sixty-three years old, born within weeks of the unworthy usurper at whose pleasure she was now to die. She had been fifteen when she had taken the white tunic of her novitiate and sixteen when she had set it aside to begin a life of total nakedness in the Lengsin tradition. She had been Chief Læng now for fifteen years and had served with an integrity that had been an inspiration to many of her subordinates.

Typical as it was for fairly large numbers of Lengna to attend Lengsin beheadings, the unclad contingent seem'd determined to predominate at this event in a way not seen in many centuries. The courtyard of the Palace was overthrung with their pressing, pounding, chanting, and all but dancing nakedness.

The event that had occasion'd this prodigious turnout past quickly. Evæng walkt to the block as proudly as she might have walkt had she been wearing the patrician mantle to which her birth would have entitled her. For forty-seven years, she had honour'd her nakedness, and now, in her last moments, unblushing and unblemisht, it honour'd her. Her chaplain quickly shrove her as she knelt before the block. Then KShena raised her sword and struck off the hoary head when the old Chief Læng herself bad her do so.

No sooner had she done so than three much younger Lengna strode up onto the scaffold. Two of them gently set the body on a litter and bare it away. The third took up the sever'd head and set it upon a table at the front of the scaffold. Then she knelt before the block herself to share, as was her right, in the martyrdom of her mistress.

Accustom'd as he was to Lengsin ways, the chaplain shrove her quickly, and without question, nor did KShena hesitate; and in what seem'd only a moment another freshly sever'd head had been set upon the table and another young LKShenang was kneeling at the block and demanding to be dispatcht. Everyone had expected a few of these sympathetic beheadings. Troubling as it often was to the clad Katharinians to witness the histrionic and often patently barbaric excesses of their nude half-sisters, they shrug'd them off as the result of an often unedifying tradition that seem'd to attract almost as many suicidal perverts as dedicated servants to the Lengsin sub-order. Now, however, things seem'd to be getting out of hand. The chanting nudes stampt their bare feet and shouted all the louder as their sisters queued to have their heads cut off. The queue got even longer as KShena's arms began to tire, and Harriet, mounting the platform to relieve her, handed off her mantle to Paula to reveal herself bare breasted and wearing the blood red skirt of a beheader. Gripping the blood soakt boards with her bare toes, Harriet position'd herself over the block to behead the next dozen Lengna, who queued for her grim services.

The ugly Regent, seeing that the situation had got beyond her control, stood up and shouted from the porch whereupon her throne had been placed, but no one took any notice of her.

Finally, the higher ranking Lengna, fearing that their ranks were being seriously decimated, call'd for an end to the beheadings and began herding their subordinates back into the Palace. The mood quickly changed to one of weary'd surfeit and the courtyard began to empty.

At last the angry Regent regain'd the attention of the downcast sisterhood over which she claim'd the right to rule. Her eunuchs were brandishing their weapons angrily at those whose backs they found turn'd to her. Philippa was glad to see that her regiment was among the first to come to attention.

<<My thanks to the Lengna for a most enjoyable entertainment,>> purr'd the Regent wickedly in her unmistakable baritone. <<Now I have a treat for them.>> She rang a small bell and a small, slight nude stept out of a doorway and onto the porch, padded up to the throne and knelt directly in front of it. Then the Regent took up the silver gorgett that Evæng had surrender'd before surrendering her life and hung it round the small nude's neck. Then she pronounced so that all could hear: <<Arise Pentæng, Chief of all the Lengsin, and receive the fealty of those over whom I have given thee charge.>>

<<May our glorious Regent live forever,>> reply'd the now decorated nude, genuflecting again after she had arisen and kissing the Regent's hands and feet before turning and walking down from the porch and up onto the scaffold. <<Before ye Lengna step forward by your ranks, let me add my thanks to our good Regent's for the splendid self sacrifice of these our sisters,>> she said, bowing towards the pile of sever'd heads on the table next to her. <<I have now a sacrifice of my own to place with theirs.>> She paused as a larger, and considerably younger nude stept out from behind the same door whence she herself had stept and walkt across the courtyard carrying an ebony and silver box which she placed at last upon the closest corner of the table that already held the heads. <<Therein is my own right hand,>> announced Pentæng with grim pride, <<which I myself cut off to honour the glorious memory of Priscillæng, whom history will remember as the greatest of our order. In her memory ye will reverence now the sever'd hand before the living one.>> As her young assistant open'd the grim reliquary, Pentæng pointed to it with the stump of her right arm, capt with a golden ornament like unto a ruby studded crown.

Harriet and KShena both gaspt, while down among the crowd, Paula hid her face in the bosom of an equally shaken Sarah and secretly made the sign of the Cross.

* * * * *

Fetching a bottle of strong wine and three small glasses from under the gradine, Harriet, now fresh from a hot bath and vested in a clean tunic, determined to do what she could to ease the anxiety of her troubled niece. Poor Paula, knowing that she would not be able to sleep alone after what she had seen that afternoon, had beg'd to be allow'd to spend the night with Harriet and Sarah; and they had most happily agreed, taking her back to their suite with them after a rather grim regimental supper. Paula and Sarah now both nodded their silent thanks as Harriet served them. Then the three of them sat huddled together on the daybed, sipping their wine and silently sharing the solace of each other's company.

Anon they saw a strange shimmering in the centre of the room, which almost instantly resolved itself into the iridescence of a preserver's cloak; and their old friend Andrew, the lately appointed Ambassador, stept forward to greet them with a nod. Seeing that Paula was present he addrest them in the Changeless Speech: <<I saw the red chair against your window and thought it best to visit you as soon as ye might be able to receive me. I trust that this is a good time.>>

<<A very good time,>> agreed Harriet, as she arose to return to the gradine. <<Let me find another glass for thee, that thou mayst share our wine. Let us be careful, though,>> she continued as she return'd to pour him the promised libation, <<The Palace is a very dangerous place now and the walls may well have ears.>> It was only as she found herself translating this last English expression into the Changeless Speech that she realized the extent of her own unease.

Andrew nodded. Then, turning to the youngest Katharinian, whisper'd apologetically, <<Paula, I must ask that thou excuse us, for I think it best that I speak with Harriet and Sarah in another tongue, a tongue of the Parent World, known as English.>>

"Conrad's daughter am," pronounced Paula proudly, in that 'other tongue' whereof the Ambassador had spoken. "I understand little English from my father talking Regis -- and from Harriet talking Sarah. I listen. Someday I talk my father. Conrad's daughter am!" She tapt on her own chest with a defiant pout. Then she blusht -- but when she saw the slack jaws of surprise firm themselves into smiles, she smiled back.

"Holy shit!" exclaim'd Sarah. "That's one smart little girl we have." She gave Paula a hug and a kiss.

"Yes," agreed Andrew, "one very smart little girl. I just hope that she didn't learn too much of her English from you," he added, giving Sarah a look of quite exaggerated disapproval.

"Holy shit!" repeated Paula with an obliging smile.

"Well," said Andrew, "If you think that you can follow English, so be it, but don't ask us to translate anything for you -- not today." Then he soften'd, winkt, and kist her on the forehead. "You are a smart girl, Paula, and I'm proud of you. Just listen, and you'll learn; and after this your friends here have my permission to teach you -- so long as they mind their vocabulary."

Harriet also gave Paula a congratulatory cuddle. Then she turn'd, much more soberly, to Andrew and began to speak in a carefully muted tone: "I don't know that we are totally safe even in English. Priscillæng may well be back among us."

"Priscillæng?" repeated Andrew incredulously. "How? You, yourself..."

"Yes," affirm'd Harriet, "I, myself, cut off her head -- but tell me now, what did you and Conrad find when you interrogated that wretched Freeman? Oh, yes, Ambassador, I heard that story from Conrad. What I am saying is that an evil like hers is not so easily ended. I see that you do not yet know what happen'd here this afternoon."

"No, Harriet, I do not," admitted the old Preserver openly. "Perhaps you had better tell me about it."

"KShena and I had a bit of work to do," began Harriet dryly. "We beheaded about forty Lengna -- all in honour of the old Chief Læng. Our glorious Regent had her beheaded so that she could advance a candidate of her own -- a slight little bitch, maybe thirty-five, maybe forty years old, with her right hand cut off just above the wrist, just as Priscillæng's was, and with a golden cap on the stump of exactly the same design. That's not all. The little bitch shew'd off her severed hand in a box -- just like the box they found back then. Remember? You yourself order'd the damn thing burnt, didn't you, along with the Priscill‘ng's body. Would that we knew what became of her accursèd head. Anyway, this new Chief Lang's name is Pentæng. She refers to the sever'd hand as a sacrifice and claims to have cut it off herself -- in Priscill‘ng's honour; but something tells me she meant to give more than honour to that damn'd witch. For all we know, she has given her a body. Why else would a self-serving little slut slice off her own hand?"

"Why else indeed, but to serve herself better in the service of another," Andrew agreed, "but how long ago?" he mused grimly.

"How long ago, what?" askt Harriet.

"The amputation. How long ago did she cut off the hand?"

"I couldn't tell you that," responded Harriet. "I would say that the stump was well heal'd. As to the hand itself, I only saw it briefly. I would guess that it had been preserved in the same way that Priscillæng's had been; but whether it had been in that damn box for twenty years or only twenty days, I couldn't say."

"What would your guess be," prest Andrew.

"I don't know how much my guess is worth," caution'd Harriet, "but it's possible that this Pentæng was part of Priscillæng's inner circle, and that she somehow escaped to Leonisa at the start of the Lengsin purge -- when Priscillæng's hand was found -- how long ago was it?"

"Twenty years this next spring," answered Andrew thoughtfully. "Something else occurs to me, though," he said rather ominously, "Priscillæng's hand was burnt with her body, as you said, but the box and the golden ornaments were placed in a vault. It is just possible that..."

"No," said Harriet, "this Pentæng's wrist would have been much to small for Priscillæng's hardware, and she hadn't cut off her hand any higher up on the forearm. I am sure that a new set was made for her."

"Whoa!" call'd Sarah. "I've just had a flash on this. Pentæng was an artisan, she made the ebony boxes and the golden ornaments -- both Priscillæng's and later her own. She and Priscillæng were more than close confederates -- they were lovers. KShena cut off Priscillæng's hand -- but Pentæng cut off her own. It was much more than an honour, more even than a love gift -- it made them one -- and they are one now."

"How long ago, Sarah?" prest Andrew, not doubting her clairvoyance, but wishing to probe its limits. "Can you give us any idea?"

"Only that Priscillæng was already dead when she did it; and that she did it in Leonisa, in the palace, in a desecrated chapel. I don't want to tell you. It's black, black magic! I can see her with this thing that she's made for herself -- like some damn guillotine! She's chanting something dreadful and calling upon her lover. I can see it! I can hear it! Aaah! It's done now! Oh God, let me out of here!" Sarah jumpt up and began blessing herself repeatedly. Then she began to recite the Litany of St. Katharine the Barefooted, wherein the others join'd her. This seem'd to calm her for a while but then she started crying: "She's in our Palace. Damn her! She's here in our Palace -- St. Katharine's own Palace. She cut off her own hand to spite the God who made her and she's here in our Palace. She has no right to be in our world and she's here in our Palace." Her pacing grew more frantic and her shouting grew louder.

Harriet finally found it necessary to pull her friend down to the floor and rock her into quiescence on her lap while softly singing some of Sarah's favourites from the Night Songs. At last she beckoned to Paula to come and take over this function so that she herself could resume her conversation with Andrew.

"I'm sorry, Harriet," the old Preserver apologized, "I should not have prest Sarah so far."

"You did what you had to do, and so did Sarah," she reply'd, "She would not have wanted it any other way." Leading him back to the other side of the sitting room, she posed another question: "Could Priscillæng use Pentæng's body to travel between worlds?"

"Good God, I hope not," he started in a tone of anxious prayer; and then continued more thoughtfully; "It would be very difficult. It would require something far more than simple possession. There would have to be a total joining of the two minds. I really don't know, but we must be prepared for the worst, mustn't we?"

"That possibility could change the whole game," mused Harriet.

"Well," said Andrew, "it definitely changes my position -- and that of my order. We simply cannot tolerate the threat that this Pentæng poses to our order and to our world. She must be destroy'd and the Lengsin order again thoroughly purged. We will not ourselves, as you well know, engage in any overt warfare except as a last resort, but we will do everything necessary to place Margarita Bhozetsa on the Katharinian throne within the shortest possible time."

"You are certain then, that your superiors will accept your recommendations?"

"Yes, Harriet, I am quite certain."

"How soon can you get word of this to our Regnalka?"

"No later than tomorrow," assured Andrew. "I must leave you now. I want all three of you to get some sleep."

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Nine

The Kingslynns could not have had a more delightful house guest than the Regnalka. She began each day with all the ceremony that she and Karena could manage under the circumstances and expected to be greeted each morning with all the deference that was appropriate to her rank. Once the day's first blessing had been said, however, all the formality was set aside and she sat down to breakfast quite casually and behaved for the rest of the day as if she were in the home of her oldest and most intimate friends. Margarita Bhozetsa had, in happy consequence of her royal birth, a quite instinctive ability to use that pomp which naturally attended her otherness with the same surehanded delicacy wherewith Pilár, as a good cook would use the most pungent spice. She enthralled Conrad's younger daughters each morning by allowing them by turns to help her off with her greaves, and then delighted them after breakfast by playing with them as freely as might an indulgent aunt. On one occasion in fact, Karena was somewhat taken aback to find her mistress lying flat on her back and balancing little 'Ctoria, as she had come to call Conrad's youngest daughter, upon the broad bare soles of the purple feet before which most of the troubled subjects of the Northern Realm would now gladly have prostrated themselves.

Not many mornings later, though, the Kingslynns were forced to say farewell to their royal guest, when a knock at the door brought Conrad face to face not with the dispatch rider from the Preservers' consulate in Simontisten to whose daily visits he had of late become accustomed, but with a Preserver whom he had known for a far longer time.

<<Andrew,>> he greeted the caller in surprise, <<what bringeth thee here?>>" Then he added, half whispering, in English, "Not bad news, I hope."

"Good and bad," replied the old Preserver quietly, using English himself, "Fetch the Regnalka and your Uncle Regis and find us a room where we can talk privately."

Conrad did so, and the five of them, including Karena, went off to a small room at the far end of the house.

"So, old friend, what is this news which is both good and bad," began Conrad.

Andrew smiled and nodded. "The good news," he explained, is that it has now become appropriate for me to offer the Regnalka the full protection of my order, and to invite her to take up residence -- although covertly for now -- in our Embassy in Katharintisten. The bad news concerns the circumstances which brought me to this decision." He went on to relate the events of the previous day and evening, including a fairly detailed account of his conversation with Harriet and Sarah and Paula's surprising revelation of her hitherto hidden linguistic abilities.

Conrad's face broke into a wide grin of paternal pride when he heard this last and he was able to forget for the moment, his dire concerns for his daughter's safety.

Regis laughed and pointed at him. "I told you she was a smart girl, didn't I?"

"A very smart girl," agreed Andrew, "and we are all very proud of ;her. Let us make our plans carefully then, for the sake of all our loved ones. The Regnalka and I have things to do which we must do alone, and concerning which I must, for now, maintain silence even before my friends here. Conrad, I want you to see Karena safely to our consulate in Simontisten, she is to stay there until it is time for her to rejoin her mistress. Karena, do you understand what I have been saying up until now?"

"My English is not good but yes -- mostly," she replied with some uncertainty.

"Good enough," Andrew continued, "Conrad can explain anything that you have not understood on the way if need be. Conrad will meet Nikonor at the consulate and the two of them will then travel South to Iohanetisten."

"What am I to do there?" queried Conrad.

"Inform the Emperor of the latest events in Katharintisten and try to convince him to move several regiments north in case he needs them there."

"Needs them for what?" asked Conrad rather uncomfortably.

"To protect the life of his mother for one thing."

"And that of my daughter? Andrew, you do realize that there is some conflict of interest here, don't you?"

"No more now than in the past," reminded Andrew rather dismissively, "There are multiple, complex interests here, to be sure, but there need be no conflict so long as we are honest and open with each other about those interests. Conrad, I expect you to be totally open with His Imperial Majesty, and to tell him everything that I have told you -- especially concerning the position of my order. Nikonor will be with you to back you up in that regard."

"How much secrecy should be involved here?" asked Conrad finally.

"With the possible exception of your own commander, Prince Jacob, you should speak to no one of this until you have spoken to the Emperor."

"How soon do we leave?"

"By noon if possible -- the sooner we move the safer we are."

"What of me?" asked Regis. "What would you have me do?"

"Stay here and watch over this house," replied Andrew firmly. "We need someone here who can deal with anyone who comes looking for the Regnalka -- someone who can provide the family with some security, and someone whom the Emperor's soldiers will obey."

"You mean those soldiers stationed just up the road -- yes, they know me, but they have never been told of the Regnalka's presence here."

"Nor need they be told of her departure. It's all the safer that way, for them and for us. Nonetheless, I would keep them around for a few more weeks. Well," Andrew at last concluded, "let us go down now and ask God's blessing one last time with the rest of the family before we must go our separate ways."

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Ten

<<Draw nigh, Regnalka,>> bad the old Preserver gently, when they had repaired to a room apart from the others. <<I shall cover thee in my cloak now, and then I shall take thee where no Bhozetsa has gone in over seventeen centuries, for now thou shalt know the favour wherewith thou art favoured.>> He spoke these words in the Changeless Speech with the greatest dignity. Then, gently bending the head of the towering princess into the hollow of his shoulder, he drew his cloak around her and gently wrapped her in a warm, world dissolving darkness.

She gasped in surprise when the cloak was withdrawn, for she saw that she was in no part of Conrad's house, nor anywhere else that she had ever been before. The room was small and cluttered with books and papers. She felt at once that it must be Andrew's, and yet that it must be the repository for some rather different part of him than what she had known and loved for so many years: A reclusive, scholarly part of him, she thought. She looked about the room more carefully, trying to place what it was that made it so remarkable despite its modesty. The books! They all had writing on their covers -- mostly in English. Had Andrew accumulated a library of books from the Parent World, or what? She studied the scene for some minutes before voicing that question that he obviously awaited. English seemed most appropriate, "So, my good magician, where have you brought me?"

"We are in the library of my house in Stephendale."

"The Parent World? -- but I thought..."

"We do make exceptions to our rules, Regnalka. You are a very exceptional woman and you will make a very exceptional ruler. In any case, your stay will be a brief one. I have no plans to enroll you as a student here. You would have too much explaining to do," he smiled, nudging her purple toes.

The imposing Katharinian grinned and purred and flexed the indicated appendages. "I see what you mean. So...How much will you be able to show me?"

"Not very much, but we shall do a slight bit of visiting. Wait just a moment while I find you a cloak." He left her to peruse the library while he clattered about in a wardrobe in the next room. When he returned, he had exchanged the iridescent robes of his order for a long cloak of heavy black wool. He handed the Regnalka a similar garment and was pleased to see that when she had wrapped herself therein, there was little to be noticed about her beyond her exceptionally tall frame. Her purple feet hardly showed as she padded barefoot behind him down the stairs and out the door of his modest dwelling and out onto the quiet, tree-lined street that served it.

A less exotic visitor would have found nothing very remarkable about any of the houses along this street. Most were either the homes of lecturers or were rented out to students. The Regnalka, however, was fascinated by every detail of their architecture, for she had never before seen its like. In the main, she found it rather pleasant. When they had passed perhaps a dozen of these houses, they came upon a fairly long expanse of stone wall which partly hid a stone building behind it that had been built in a very different style. She followed Andrew through the gate and up along the path that led to its stone steps. "Where are you taking me?" she asked in pleasant anticipation.

"To meet the sisters of a small religious order in some ways like your own. This is their convent, or nunnery, if you will."

<<Before we enter,>> he continued, lowering his voice and shifting to the Changeless Speech, <<I must tell thee that the good sisters know me as a friend, yet in fact they know no more of me than anyone else does here in Stephendale. I am a professor of linguistics and a member of some obscure religious order -- and that is all that they must ever know of me in this life. We shall be here for the rest of the day and perhaps into the evening. We must be as polite, and as friendly, and as honest as Christians should be with other Christians; and yet we must give no hint whatever of whence we came or how we got here. We must allow them to suppose that thou art come from some distant part of their own world where different customs are practiced, but we need make no use of any direct deception or falsehood. Listen carefully to what is said and think well before thou speakest. Thou art a Regnalka, and I wot thou hast the wit to do this well.>> He clapped her hand reassuringly and in another moment they were at the threshold.

Andrew's knock was answered by a diminutive nun in a simple, dark brown habit, but before any word was spoken, a larger figure in similar garb, who gave the instant impression of being not only her senior, but her superior, strode up behind her. "Brother Andrew," the Mother Superior smiled with a slight nod, "I see you have brought a guest."

"Indeed I have, Reverend Mother," affirmed Andrew, returning the nod, "a guest from a distant land, but a member of a Christian religious order in some ways like unto yours. This, Reverend Mother, is the Regnalka Margarita Bhozetsa, her rank would most closely translate to that of a prioress. Unfortunately, Reverend Mother, there is little more that I am at liberty to say about the Regnalka. She has sought sanctuary with me because both her own life and the future of her order are in great danger, and any discussion of her homeland or of how she came to be with me might well compromise both her safety and yours, not to mention mine. I must ask you simply to trust me in this matter -- as a friend."

"And as a brother in Christ," added the Mother Superior, resolutely. "We have been friends for many years Brother Andrew, and a friend of yours is a friend of ours. We shall protect the Regnalka as a sister if you so wish it, and with no questions asked."

"You honour me with your confidence, Reverend Mother," replied the old Preserver with a deep bow," but the Regnalka will require your hospitality for but a few hours. I must, however, ask that same hospitality for some other guests whom I go anon to fetch."

"This is God's house and there is room within it," proclaimed the Mother Superior with an expansive gesture, "but won't you have some refreshment first?"

"No, Reverend Mother, I really must be going, but if you will see to the Regnalka's comfort for now you may count on having both of us, and four other guests, at supper this evening -- and again -- my profound thanks," said the polite Preserver as he bowed yet again, turned, and walked briskly out the door and towards the gate.

The Mother Superior led the Regnalka into her study, and asked the smaller nun to fetch them some tea. They sat down opposite each other before the hearth and this more sociable posture revealed the Regnalka's purple feet. The Mother Superior quickly reformed her gape of surprise to a nodding smile of approval. "Ah -- we've one thing in common -- both discalced," she grinned.

"Hm?"

"Barefoot. St. Clare, whom we regard as our foundress, gave us the tradition of going barefoot long ago, but, perverse creatures that we are, we had compromised that tradition and had long gone shod; but the year that I took over as Mother Superior, God sent a young girl, a student at the college here, to inspire me to dispense with the stockings and sandals that the nuns had taken to wearing and return us to the discipline of bare feet. It is a very joyful discipline and I thank God for it daily; and God willing, we shall keep to it -- at least as long as I am Mother Superior." She extended her own bare feet and flexed them proudly.

"Our foundress, St. Katharine, enjoined the same on us," replied the Regnalka with a smile of delight in the recognition of a wider circle of sisterhood. Then the smile waxed a bit sheepish. "As you see, we dye our bare feet. The colours mark our rank within our order. We do not, I must confess, honour the virtue of modesty as well as you do."

The old nun shook her head, smiled peacefully, and closed her grey eyes as she intoned:

"I do not call Majesty that Pomp which surrounds Kings,
or that exterior Magnificence which dazzles the vulgar.
That is but the reflexion of Majesty and not Majesty itself.
Majesty is the Image of the Grandeur of God in the Prince;
+ Jacques Bénigne Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux."

"Reverend Mother," began the Regnalka, rising nervously from her chair, "I don't understand. What has that to do with me?"

"I don't really know, but those were the words of a very wise and holy man, and I just had the strangest feeling that I should repeat them. I don't know what you are, Regnalka, but I have the strongest feeling that Andrew was greatly understating when he likened you to a Prioress. I myself could be called a prioress, more or less; but when I speak to you, I feel as though I am speaking to a queen, one before whom I should kneel, and one on whose behalf I should pray."

"O Reverend Mother; I wish that I could tell you everything about myself, for I see that thou art a holy woman and perhaps a prophetess," confessed the Regnalka, "but alas, I may not."

"Well," said the Mother Superior, now herself unnerved, "at least I am free to share something of our experience of the religious life and perhaps I could best serve God at this moment if I did so."

"I would count that as a blessing," nodded the Regnalka solemnly. Then she lightened somewhat and removed the cloak that hid her magnificence. "Andrew spoke of me truthfully. I am in a very real sense a prioress. I could equally well be called a princess, for I am of royal lineage, and I suppose that I might also be called a marshalless -- if there be such a word -- for, as you might guess from this gorgett, ours is a military as well as a religious order; but I am not a queen."

"But your destiny is to be one," affirmed the Mother Superior, as she arose and genuflected before the Regnalka, "and I thank God that I have been allowed the honour of your presence. Now I can explain why I quoted those lines from Bossuet. My vows demand this simple cloth, and I thank God that I stand in it even as I thank Him that I stand unshod, for its discipline allows me a more innocent pleasure in beholding a creature whom God has called to reflect His own Grandeur in a shew of outward splendour."

"May God grant me then a respect for all His creatures, splendid and humble alike," quoth the Regnalka in some embarrassment. "I also feel blessed to be here, Reverend Mother; so now please let me give thee my blessing." She extended her right foot and rested her purple toes atop the nun's. "What was that word? Discalced? Yes, Reverend Mother, we share that calling."

Both ladies knew that their friendship, brief though it had to be, would brighten their lives far beyond its little day, and so they savour'd it, in pious conversation, until the old Preserver returned and broke the spell.

Of Andrew's four forespoken guests it seemed that he had so far fetched but three. The fact that these were also barefoot Katharinians surprised the Reverend Mother not at all; but the Regnalka was quite taken aback when she beheld her own Harriet, Sarah, and Paula. She was most pleased to see them, but her first concern, as their former commander, was whether their present commander knew what had become of them.

"Your niece has been informed through her orderly that they are in my safe keeping," assured Andrew, before she could even speak the question.

"And that is all she need know," nodded the Regnalka with some relief.

"Regnalka," exclaimed the Mother Superior, "that's the girl -- the one who inspired me to discalce my nuns twenty years ago. Harriet," she gestured with a nodding smile, "am I right?"

"Yes, Reverend Mother," acknowledged Harriet in surprise, "but what a memory you have! I left Stephendale in 1968 -- after less than two years."

"But you came to Mass faithfully during your stay here, and you always came barefooted, right through the winter. That impressed me, Harriet, for it called to my mind the discipline of St. Clair herself. It was on Easter Sunday of the year that you mentioned, 1968, that my nuns and I returned to that discipline; and you will be pleased to know that we have kept to it faithfully ever since. In nearly twenty years these floors -- in fact these grounds -- have not once felt the tread of shoes. Did you notice the inscription above our gates?"

"Yes, Reverend Mother, but I must confess that I cannot read Latin."

"SOLVE CALCIAMENTVM DE PEDIBVS TVIS, LOCVS ENIM IN QVO STAS TERRA SANCTA EST," supplied Andrew. "Put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground. Exodus 3:5."

"Moses at the burning bush," smiled Sarah in recognition. "I remember reading those words to Harriet, not long after she taught me to go barefoot."

"Being discalced puts us in touch with a holiness that underlies the whole of God's creation," agreed the Mother Superior. Then she paused and studied Sarah's features. "A friend of Harriet's? -- from Stephendale? Did I know you as well?"

"It was Sarah here who first brought me to St. Clare's," answer'd Harriet, "You may well have met her, Reverend Mother, but she was at Stephendale for only one year and I think she had gone before you made my acquaintance."

"A previous link in our chain of Grace then. In any case Sarah, I am glad to have your acquaintance now," said the Mother Superior. "And what of my youngest guest here? Paula, did you say? What should I know of her, my dear Brother Andrew?"

"Well, Reverend Mother," he replied thoughtfully, "you might say that Paula's link with Stephendale is through her father, Conrad Kingslynn, who was also a student at the college and a communicant at St. Clare's, and whose great aunt, I believe, was your own immediate predecessor."

"Ah, yes, Mother Elizabeth," nodded the Mother Superior, "--but Andrew, you spoke of four other guests, and these are but three."

"I am expecting the fourth to call on us shortly," replied Andrew. "And I hope that she will prove yet another link in that 'chain of Grace' whereof you spoke."

The Reverend Mother entertained her guests with similar conversation while her clock struck two more quarters, and although keeping her curiosity in check proved in places to be a rather obvious test of her discipline, she met the task well and her talent as a hostess did credit to her house.

At last the nun who served as doorkeeper let in the final guest, a white haired woman in a very conservative black outfit whose very hems and pleats seemed to express a starchy indignation about the conspicuous absence of the matching high heels that its formal lines required. It was the sort of dress, however, that, granted the shoes, would simply have complained instead about her undyed hair and lack of a sufficiently formal "face" -- and the lady herself seemed to show a pain'd and weary awareness of this. Even to the unperceptive, she presented a picture of unsuccessful compromise which transcended the minor incongruities of her outward appearance.

The late arrival looked around the room and then addressed the old preserver: "Well I found the place; and as you see, I left my shoes in my car as you requested," she added, pointing sheepishly down at her bare feet before straightening herself and pronouncing firmly. "My goodness, that grass is cold."

"The chill of the evening," said the Mother Superior with a smile, "but I'm sure our good fire and a cup of tea will warm you. By the way, I am Dorothy, Mother Superior of this house. Might we know your name, good lady, for it seems to have pleased Brother Andrew here to have had us prepare for a surprise guest, and you are obviously the fulfillment of that expectation."

"My name is Ann Kingslynn," she answered, not meeting anyone's gaze, "and I am glad at last to be fulfilling someone's expectations."

"My grandmother?" ventured Paula in halting English, looking first at her imputed ancestress and then at Andrew.

"I was once the unworthy wife of Conrad Kingslynn and mother to a son of the same name. Are you the daughter of my son?" she asked.

"Yes, Mrs. Kingslynn," answered Andrew, "Paula here is most definitely your granddaughter, the eldest child of your son Conrad. I can vouch for that, and for the fact that Conrad is alive and well and happily married, and has two other daughters and two sons. I am sorry that Conrad could not be here now but his home is in a distant country. Paula knows some English, but not enough yet to communicate effectively."

"She has her father's face, -- and his father's face," affirmed the old woman. "Paula, child, come close to me, I want a better look at you," she beckoned.

Paula walked up to her and kissed her on both cheeks. "Don't do that, grandmother," she giggled nervously, not knowing any words for the tears that she saw in the old gray eyes -- before she saw them widen in surprise.

"What happened to your feet child? They're blue!"

"Her feet have been dyed that colour," explained Andrew. "It is an ancient practice of the religious order to which she belongs. Harriet and Sarah, both of whom were students here at the same time that your son was, are members of the same order," he continued, gesturing to each in turn. "The purple feet belong to their commander -- their prioress you might say -- the Regnalka Margarita Bhozetsa." His nod to her, however, might better have been called a bow and seemed to acknowledge a far greater dignity than did his verbal introduction.

Ann Kingslynn's attention, however, was drawn to Harriet. "Did you know Conrad then?" she inquired rather hesitatingly.

"Oh, yes," affirmed Harriet, "very well, your son has been one of my closest and dearest friends now for almost twenty years, and although he is not a member of our order, I think of him as a brother and regard Paula as my niece."

"Harriet is my aunt," nodded Paula in confident English.

Ann Kingslynn smiled proudly at her granddaughter. Then she turned her gaze briefly on Harriet before staring down at the floor in shame. "I suppose that Conrad has told you all about me," she said slowly.

"We are very close," replied Harriet, trying to be tactful.

"Well, that will probably make it easier for me, because there are some things that I must say now, for Paula's sake -- and for mine.

"Conrad's father was a very good man. I realise now that he was probably a much better man than I deserved. I certainly wasn't the woman that he deserved. He was a devoted husband -- a faithful one, I am sure, in any case. I am also in no doubt that he loved me as far as he was capable of loving anyone; but his idea of love was all bound up with his sense of duty and what he called his honour as a Christian. My husband made it quite clear that he abhorred the very notion of romantic love. He called it a concept that could commend itself only to fools and adulterers. Perhaps he was right, in any case his son made it quite clear that he was of exactly the same opinion. On the day that my husband was buried, my son called me an adulteress to my face -- and that I was. It was the last time I saw him. I had divorced my husband six years before his death. I had hoped to marry my lover. I can't imagine why except that he easily provided me with all the passion and romance that I thought I wanted in a man. He was a perfect charmer and a perfect scoundrel."

"That was Gino, I take it," Harriet prompted, when the sad confession stall'd.

"Yes, well I'm sure Conrad had enough to say about him."

Harriet only nodded and smiled slightly, wishing her to continue.

"Gino may not actually have been the gigolo that Conrad called him -- in any case he was not so with me -- but he was hardly any better than one. I don't know if he would ever have married me; but I now count myself fortunate that he died in a car crash while his driving was being distracted by the attentions of one of his other girlfriends. It was the end of her as well, but that still left more women than I could ever have imagined to file by at his funeral. I wasn't even the only one that he supposedly lived with! That was less than a year after my husband's death. I was disgusted -- mostly with myself -- but there were others after Gino -- each more of a gigolo than the one before. The last of them informed me, on my sixtieth birthday, that he was actually younger than my son. Lousy punk -- I chased him out of the house with the gun that he kept under the bed; then I sat down and put the barrel in my mouth, intent on blowing my brains out -- but something stopped me. It was almost as if Conrad -- I mean my late husband -- had finally forgiven me. I wish my son could forgive me. That's what I've prayed for every night for the past two years."

"I think that that might be possible," nodded Andrew compassionately.

"Please, Professor," she plead tearfully, "tell me, where is my son? Is there any way that you can take me to see him?"

"I will have to ask you to be patient, Mrs. Kingslynn," he replied, "as I am not, at least for the moment, free to answer either of those questions. I can assure you however, that I also count your son among my dearest friends and have his best interests at heart. I must also tell you that he does not know that I am here with you. I must ask you a question now, Mrs. Kingslynn: What would you like to do with the rest of your life? Think carefully."

"I really wish that I could go with Paula , and spend the rest of my life as a nun."

"Well, if our good hostess -- and the Regnalka" smiled Andrew warmly, as he guestured his intention to allow the two another hour or so alone together, "would be willing to let us go now, I might be able to arrange something quite like that."

Choosing the chilly verge over the concrete pavement, Harriet Bronwynn was once again a late 60's college girl, walking arm in arm with her best friend, and best of all, going barefoot. She could almost taste the last toke that she and Sarah had taken together more than twenty years ago. Harriet had gone barefoot all her life and yet the simple feel of the living earth was still enough to make her high. That was her special gift from her Creator and she thankt Him for it every day. Now the thought that she had been able to share that gift not only with Sarah but with Mother Dorothy and her nuns filled her with a joy that she could not have exprest if she leapt and pranced and sang to the angels at the top of her voice; but Sarah squeezed her hand and skipt along with her as if she knew. It was a magick moment, lasting hardly longer than it might have taken a quire to sing aloud the TE DEUM that fill'd her soul, but holding the promise that the events that follow'd would carry the same sweet thrill of happy times, relived and remembered.

Anon they were all together in Andrew's library waiting for the black cloakt professor to change back into the iridescent cloak of a Preserver. This took but a moment and when he return'd he greeted them with the expansive gesture and fatherly bidding that Harriet had been awaiting. Then they were all huddled together, Harriet, Sarah, Paula, and Ann, wrapt in the warm darkness and the world melting magick of the great outer garment wherein Andrew had vested himself and now thrown over and about them with a sleight of hand unseen. Having had the experience before, Harriet savour'd the dissolution of the worm library carpet under her bare feet and then wriggled her toes in the bottomless void of the vortex that carry'd them between worlds before they found a richer, though probably even older carpet beneath them. The voluminous cloak was withdrawn and Harriet was delighted to behold the selfsame room wherein she and Conrad had been so surprised to find themselves on a night nearly twenty years before.

Andrew must have taken great care to have the suite restor'd to so close an approximation of the way it had lookt on that long ago night. Harriet was well aware that for many years these rooms had been given over to the containment of Nikonor's messy hobbies and slovenly habits. She could guess that only a matter of days ago they must have resembled the back rooms of a badly operated antique business. Now, apart from a few telltale stains one could not have known that the room they stood in had been one of several rooms that had come into the unworthy stewardship of a singularly untidy Preserver who fancied himself an expert refinisher of fine furniture. Harriet would have found it remarkably easy to defame poor Nikonor -- had she not been so fond of him -- but then again, there were the pair of high backt chairs with the octagonal seats that Nikonor had made for Andrew, and they were very much a part of her memory of this wonderfull room.

Nikonor could not be with them now; he was busy elsewhere; as were Regis and Conrad and their dumb servant Pilár. Thaddæus Dupa had died on a battlefield long ago; and his feisty little cousin Halka was now in the palace, just across the canal, probably sitting in her room, with Olga and trying to get drunk enough to fall asleep. Harriet did not want to think about the palace. She felt guilty to have been granted this respite from the sadness and anxiety which now enthrall'd her sisters there. She would not be opening the shutters to behold it -- not tonight.

Harriet waited while Andrew and Paula made sure that the latter's understandably disconcerted grandmother took a comfortable seat on the long day bed. The ever provident preserver had seen that a very attractive buffet was provided for them even through they had allow'd the Mother Superior to prevail upon them to stay for supper at the nunnery. Harriet nudged Sarah and giggled when she saw Andrew open the panel beneath one of the great octagonal chairs and pull out the wine and the glasses -- just like old times.

The days that follow'd were indeed idyllick. They were in many ways a replay of those glorious days when Harriet had first shared this suite with Sarah. They were sharing it again in the same way now -- each keeping her clothes in the same small bedroom off the main sitting room but now as then electing not to sleep in them but rather to sleep together at opposite ends of the same long day bed in the sitting room, chatting and giggling happily before giving each other's bare feet a final cuddle and snuggling down to sleep. Down the hall, Paula and her grandmother had been assign'd the same suite once occupy'd by Regis and Conrad and Pilár; and in the suite below that slept the Regnalka. It was all so very much the same except that Harriet and Sarah were Katharinians now, and the bare feet that Sarah favour'd with the final kiss had long since been dyed patrician blue. Nor could the love between them, though now chaste, ever again be fully innocent.

It was hardly less than magickal to sit with Ann Kingslynn while the Regnalka gave her the first instructions in the novitiate. It would be a novitiate whence she, as a widow, would in a sense never fully graduate. Her bare feet would be markt with St. Katharine's cross, but they would never be dyed; nor would she ever receive a mantle, but only a blue shoulder cape, like unto the Empress Dowager's purple one, over her tunic. Ann's instruction in Katharinian matters, however, as well as her instruction in the Changeless Speech was delightfully parallel to what her own had been.

Sunday, however, brought home to Harriet a sad difference between the two experiences, in that they could not safely attend mass. Certainly not in the palace and in fact not in the Embassy either. A trusted priest had to bring them the blessed sacrament in the Regnalka's room. On the second Sunday, Harriet felt compell'd to speak to the Regnalka after they had taken communion. "Regnalka," she began sadly, "I love being here with you now, I cannot tell you how much I love it, but I can not stay here. My place is in the palace."

"It may not be safe for you to return at this time," warn'd the Regnalka.

"I can not allow either my pleasure or my safety to be my first concern, Regnalka. My commander has placed a responsibility upon me that I cannot abandon."

"Yes, you have told me of that, Harriet. Well, perhaps you are right. I must say though that I think that it's time that my niece appoint a first officer. It is neither proper nor fair that you should be seen as filling that position yourself. I want you to tell her for me that I strongly advise that she appoint Anastasia, considering that she is the most senior of the indigoes and in fact a Regnalkalka."

"I think that your niece would say that Anastasia is also the least competent."

"That is of less consequence than the fact that her appointment would be the most easily accepted by the others. In any case, Harriet, that choice would seem the most natural and the most innocent." The Regnalka paused, seemingly troubled. "You do understand that she must provide for a clear successor. I pray for my niece's safety every night, but God help us if..."

"I do understand your concerns, Regnalka, and I shall communicate them to my commander. I must return to her now though. I cannot justify any more delay."

"All right. You'll need a convincing story though, in case you have to answer to anyone besides your commander. I would suggest that you stay fairly close to the truth about where you have been for the last ten days. Perhaps you could weave some story around Sarah's need for medical attention."

Thus it was decided: Harriet would be departing that evening; and this meant spending the entire afternoon exchanging information about the recent past and planning for the various contingencies of the immediate future. Andrew and Harriet quite naturally took centre stage in these discussions; but all the others took part, as it was, after all, the Regnalka, whose fortunes had to be their final focus. Sarah and Paula avidly took part, and even old Ann Kingslynn was drawn in. A good deal of attention was given to extending and refining the furniture-in-the-window code wherein they had already had some experience. Thus when Harriet finally took her leave, although it was naturally a sad and anxious parting, they all also felt justify'd in expressing at least a guarded confidence.

* * * * *

Conrad and Nikonor had meanwhile arrived at the Imperial Palace in Iohanetisten and begun their talks with the Emperor and his various advisors. Ponderus III was for the most part sympathetick, as were his uncle, Prince Jacob, and indeed most of the court. There were, however, some questions among them as to what his Imperial Majesty should seek to accomplish should he become involved in a Katharinian civil war. Ponderus had some advisors who wanted no part of the conflict whatever, and a few others who thought that his Majesty's aim should be nothing less than the total dissolution of the Katharinian Order and the outright annexation of the Northern Realm. The arguments that these last put forward were couch'd in moralistic terms that turn'd rather predictably on the abomination wherein Imperial Subjects held the practice of eunuchism and the fact that this practice had been at the root not only of all the troubles of the Northern Realm but of several wars which had been costly to the Empire as well.

Conrad, though holding patrician rank, nonetheless felt less than comfortable in a council composed primarily of princes; and although he had only occasionally been placed on the defensive by any of them, he was much happier when the Emperor subsequently found the time to call him back for a private audience.

<<Tell me, Conrad,>> the Emperor began, <<were we to place the Regnalka Margarita on the Katharinian throne, could we be assured that she could finally end this dreadfull eunuch business? I assume that thou hast had an opportunity to learn her mind on this.>>

Conrad nodded slowly. <<Yes, she and I have had a number of very long conversations recently, as one might imagine, and that subject came up more than once. The Regnalka is well aware what a dreadfull train of tragedy Leona the Great set in motion when she invited the soldiers who had saved her throne for her to enter the Katharinian Order as eunuchs. She has in fact made a study of the positions of the Emperor Stephan IV and the patriarch Peter VI in the moral debate that Leona aroused when she vow'd that she would eat the testicles of those who would thus bind themselves to her. The Regnalka is also aware of all the horrors and the wars brought about by subsequent perversions of this practice; and aware as well of the various fail'd attempts to outlaw it.>>

<<She hath also participated in that abominable vice herself,>> interrupted the Emperor rather pointedly.

<<Over the years she herself hath eaten the testicles of perhaps two hundred eunuchs. Yes, that is quite true,>> acknowledged Conrad, somewhat defensively, <<but how many more pairs were presented to my lord's own sainted sister when she sat upon the Katharinian throne? -- and before! -- for well wot my lord that Philippa IX, accounting herself too dainty to dine on testicles, left that duty indifferently to such diverse Regnalkana as the male novices might choose for themselves. I can say, however, with the certainty of one who has known her both as a commander and as a friend that the Regnalka Margarita always treated that duty with the deepest respect whenever it fell to her and counted herself honour'd whenever she was so chosen.>>

<<I have no doubt of that, Conrad,>> assur'd the Emperor, raising his right hand in a gesture of Peace, <<and perhaps it was undiplomatick of me to speak of this as vice -- but of course from the Imperial viewpoint...>>

<<The Regnalka understandeth that viewpoint, my lord, -- far better than most Imperial subjects might imagine that she could understand it,>> reply'd Conrad, raising his own hand in the same conciliatory gesture.

<<Will she end the practice then?>> demanded the Emperor firmly.

<<No,>> reply'd Conrad with equal firmness, << the Regnalka is convinced that any such move, even on the part of a most popular Sovereign Mother would almost certainly provoke the sort of quiet opposition that would insure the revival of the custom in the very next reign. I must say that Katharinian history would tend to prove this point.>>

<<Even so,>> observed the Emperor, <<would it not be a virtue to keep even one reign free of such a vice?>>

Conrad shook his head. <<She is committed to reform in this area -- but lasting reform; and she would argue that such a shew of virtue would cause more resentment -- especially among the eunuchs -- than it could ever be worth.>>

<<In other words she will not address the problem of eunuchism at all,>> observed the Emperor rather impatiently.

<<She would do all in her power to discourage and marginalise it,>> corrected Conrad carefully. <<She would also put an end to any Lengsin involvement in the process. She would also restate most rigidly the doctrine that it is the Sovereign Mother's solemn duty to eat the testicles of her eunuchs herself and to permit no one else to partake of them under any circumstances. She would also insist that all of her eunuchs follow the strict rules of the Alexandretisten regiment and perhaps actually transfer all of the other eunuchs into that regiment. She is also considering the possibility of allowing males to serve in the Katharinian Order without becoming eunuchs.>>

<<Hm,>> mused the Emperor approvingly, <<the idea of paying such a compliment to the Alexandretisten regiment might prove to be the mark of a truly wise ruler. It would tend to find favour for her among the most conservative factions. The most fanatical eunuchs would see her supporting them and such support could prove very valuable.>>

<<Such a position, however, would demand that she continue to accept the testicles of those who wish to offer them to her,>> warn'd Conrad warily, <<and that is her firm intention.>>

<<I understand that, Conrad, and I respect that position,>> nodded the Emperor gravely. <<I have felt justify'd in purging away such Katharinian practices as I deem'd unsuitable to my own realm, but I would be quite pleased to have the Northern Realm continue to follow the ways that pleased my sainted sister -- if only there were a way to forestall forever the horrors that this accursed testicle business gives rise to every few generations. In all candour I cannot help but think that there be some deep and deadly sin there -- a cunning sin crouching unobserved throughout the righteous reigns, but ready to spring up as a man eating monster whenever it can claim the soul of an unprayerfull Sovereign Mother.>>

<<Margarita would be a very prayerfull Sovereign Mother, my lord,>> reply'd Conrad, <<but I know that she is haunted by exactly the same thought as thou hast even now put into words. She also values the differences between the two realms. If I may offer an analogy of my own on this my lord,>> he explain'd thoughtfully, <<I think it might be said that each society acts as a safety valve for the other. We must at least thank the Katharinians for ridding the Empire of hoydens.>>

<<Such as thy daughter?>> laught the Emperor lightly.

<<If it must be said,>> return'd Conrad good-naturedly, <<but the point is that as a Katharinian we can love her.>>

Ponderus III smiled back wryly. <<Now that she has return'd to Katharintisten, I can more easily love my Mother,>> he confided. <<Well, Conrad, thou mayst tell the good Regnalka that she shall have our full support, both moral and military.>>

Having made this final pronouncement, the Emperor arose and nodded in a way that Conrad clearly understood as a sign that the audience was over. Then Conrad himself arose, bow'd deeply and backt out of the door. He had now only to find Nikonor and return to Simontisten.

* * * * *

Harriet managed to return to the Palace without incident, and indeed, much as they practiced the code that they had devised, there was, for several weeks, nothing of any substance to pass along from either side of the canal. There was a difference, however, in that the knowledge that the Regnalka Margarita had now taken up a safe station that was only a short walk from the throne whereupon so many were praying that she might soon sit gave a new courage to all of those who could safely be made privy to it.

Finally, however, as autumn changed to winter, one of Margarita's grimmer predictions came true with the passing of the Archbishop of Alexandretisten and his replacement, ostensibly by Vrsula, with a candidate so conspicuously unworthy that no attempt was even made to seek patriarchal approval. There was no evidence to suggest that the old prelate's death had been other than a natural one; but no one would have expected there to be. A fortnight later the palace bells were rung for an entire day to mark the passing of the Sovereign Mother who had not been seen by anyone in several months. Thus ended the regency. If there were a piece of good on that black day, it was that the new Sovereign Mother intended to reign as Isidora VI. She would thus not be staining the name of the order's sainted foundress by styling herself as Katherine XX.

The new Archbishop honour'd this later day Isidora with a dreadfull revival of Isidorian precedent: Choosing as his courier a nude Læng on a black gelding, he sent her his testicles along with his salutations.

The six weeks delay before the actual coronation was in consideration not of the comfort of this self-castrated sycophant but of the convenience of the various foreign rulers whose attendance was expected. The new Isidora need not have bother'd, for as soon as the Patriarch announced his refusal to recognise either her Archiepiscopal appointment or her claim to the Katharinian throne, the other rulers decided that they wanted nothing to do with her coronation and the more prudent among them withdrew their diplomats from Katharintisten before Isidora could vent her wrath upon them.

Isidora VI choreographt a coronation for herself that managed, as she must have hoped, to totally transfix all those whom she had commanded to attend -- but only with horror, for she presumed to combine all of the most sacred rites of the time honour'd ceremony with the most grotesque innovations intending to shew that she would reign not only as Sovereign Mother of the Katharinian Order and Queen of all the lands North of the Break, but as the living incarnation of the pagan goddess Panpá, the orchidophage. The Katharinian Order sank to a depth of shame it had not known since the time of the last two Isidoræ. The gasping throng of Godly women were forced to watch as this ugly, aging, testicle scoffing sow that they would now be forced to acknowledge as their Sovereign cavorted nearly nude upon a splendid stage as she mimed her way through the seduction and final castration of her victims, hapless young men stolen from about the city the day before and drug'd into a witless frenzy. She ate their testicles raw.

Harriet could not believe that this outrage was happening in the palace. The rage she felt was almost overpowering, and she was only able to maintain her composure by balancing that rage against her sadness and her shame and by silently praying the psalms that call'd upon a righteous God to avenge Himself upon the wicked. Harriet stood at her young commander's side, thankfull for the small comfort of a brief touch of the purple toes atop her own and furtively passing on the blessing to the others around her. She pray'd for the whole regiment, hoping that none of her sad sisters would condemn themselves by crying out in the rage that she was sure that all of them felt even as she herself did. Harriet was glad when the day was over and gladder yet to be able to make an excuse to visit Sarah the next evening at the Embassy and share the burden of what she had seen.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Eleven

Dragging a long, dark, dirty train across the kalendar the dreary winter refused Katharintisten even the passing glory of a good clean snow. The petty pleasures of the privileged little entourage in the embassy soon waxt stale as Sarah and Paula watcht their Regnalka's spirits sinking as the weeks past.

Then in mid Lent they heard, fourth hand, a tale so terrible that no hearer could help but be haunted by it, but which sounded, in all its grimness, a clarion that would ultimately call down the very wrath of God upon the Leonisisana. The story, told to them by Andrew, had come but two days earlier from a nobleman whose feoff was just to the south of Leonisa and who had long been the unhappy vassal of the banisht Regnalkana who had, since his father's time, ruled in that benighted province.

His stable boy had run to fetch him in the night upon the discovery of two naked women huddled together in an empty stall. When he arrived with a lantern he saw that they were hardly more than girls. Bruised and briar scratcht, foot sore and filthy, they had indeed no clothing, but the lord who lookt on them in horror could not at first even notice their nudity, for when the frighten'd faces turn'd towards the sound of his footsteps, he beheld a blood chilling blackness where their eyes should have been. The story that they began to tell was equally appalling.

They had been stolen away from their homes and families for a servitude of unspeakable degradation, as a mark whereof their eyes had been pluckt out and replaced with frightfull spheres of polisht jet.

Lord Michæl had long been ashamed of his position as a Leonisin vassal and had thus been unable to regard himself as either a strong or a brave man; yet the sight of these wretched creatures, blinded for the pleasure of monsters who would make any decent man feel ashamed of being human, set him to ranting to the heavens in a righteous rage. His rage, however, was momentary, and anon gave way to compassion.

He and his servant drew up the sightless refugees and half carry'd them to the warmth of the manor house where an old maid servant was sent for to bathe them and tend to them. They were indeed most thankfull for the strong wine and the warm fire, but they refused to have any clothing put on their naked bodies. Regarding their modesty as having been stolen from them along with their sight, they had riskt their lives in the cold harsh night to bear their reproach before the world and would not now have it hidden. They cry'd out to God and man alike for vengeance; but beyond that they wanted only to be shriven of the foul sins wherein they had been forced to participate and then to lay down their wretched heads and have them cut off. Moreover, they wanted their remains burnt to ashes, for only then did they feel that their reproach might be purged away and their souls granted rest.

Lord Michæl rather wisht that he were able to grant them such final peace that very night; yet he knew that that peace could not come without vengeance, and for that vengeance he would need a plan and perhaps ten thousand men. He could, however at least see them shriven, and so, leaving them in the care of his maid servants, he rode off with the stable boy who had found them and before midnight brought back not only a trusted priest but two neighbouring noblemen whom he knew to be God fearing.

When their horrify'd host return'd with his cowitnesses the refugees gave an account of the sin serving sisterhood whereunto they had been so cruelly imprest. Their very existence hitherto a jealously guarded secret, they were known to those for whose perverse pleasures they had been created as the 'Blind Lengna.' Pentæng, the wicked læng who had found favour with the Leonisisana when she had sought refuge in their sinfull city some two decades earlier, had founded their grim order and had in fact herself pluckt out the eyes of the first of those who had shared their monstrous fate.

Before being blinded, the stolen girls were given a drug which in most cases permanently rob'd them of their reason; but a few, including this pair who had miraculously managed to escape, were immune to its effects. Left with the knowledge of what had been done to them and of what they were being forced to do, their fate was arguably the worst of all. As Blind Lengna they should never have known for whom they perform'd their shamefull services; but in fact the few full witted ones always knew. Rarely was it either of the elder Leonisisana. Far more often was one of them call'd for the pleasure of the evil læng who had made them what they were.

Forced to feign the foolish titter that typify'd their fellow victims, the few full witted had learnt the depths of the Pentæng's wickedness, for the cruel læng had supposed herself safe in confiding her deviltry to her dark creations. She had pluckt out their eyes as part of a pact with the powers of Hell to foredrench in the most frightfull evil the hand that she plan'd someday to have the pleasure of cutting off as a final offering to those same powers. Possest of an evil which ran far deeper than her outwardly manifested cruelty, she took a perverse pleasure in devising such abominations as would most horrendously mock her Creator's handiwork and supplant it with her own.

Lord Michæl could see this wicked pride in the frightfull black orbs that stared at him from the faces of these two girls -- faces that might, without those gruesome amendments, have been quite pretty. They reminded him painfully of the two daughters whom he had sent forth along with his wife, to stay with his in-laws in the distant safety of Iohanetisten, and he was stricken with a half guilty sorrow for the many fathers among his tenants who had not the means to do likewise. He had heard a few stories of the wicked Læng who had long served the Leonisisana and was now Chief Læng in Katharintisten, and how she had cut off her own hand and kept it in a box -- but he had never before seen or heard of anything so horrendous as what confronted him now.

Then the story took another dark turn when the two blind nudes reveal'd that their own eyes had been pluckt out by a higher hand than Pentæng's.

Long though the evil læng may have lusted to lay her foredoom'd hand to rest in the box that it had skillfully fashion'd for itself, she had had to postpone the black pleasure of cutting it off until she had found and train'd a suitable apprentice to do those dark deeds that had so pleased that hand while she kept it. That apprentice had been none other than the Regnalka Patricia, the youngest and most deliberately wicked of the four Leonisisána. She had worshipt Pentæng even as Pentæng had once worshipt Priscilæng. As lovers the princess and the Læng had shared a cruel and blood drencht quest for the most unspeakable perversions.

Patricia, avidly affecting a bejewelled parody of Lenxin nudity, learnt first to administer the wine that render'd the victims witless and then to perform herself the frightfull surgery that created the monsters wherein she took the most fiendish delight. At last, when her sordid studies were completed she was granted the privilege of assisting her wicked tutor in the long awaited amputation of her own hand.

After the amputation it would always be Patricia's privilege to pluck out the eyes of the blind Lengna; and those who told the tale to the horrify'd Lord Michæl affirm'd that it was indeed the wicked young Regnalka who had blinded them -- moments after they had been forced to watch her do the same to her own sister. It must, they mused, have been Patricia's way of impressing her tutor, who lookt on with delight. In preparation for this abomination she had drug'd Michæla witless at the feast that had followed their return to Leonisa following the coronation of their aunt in Katharintisten. For those who now told the tale to Lord Michæl, however, another wine had been chosen -- a wine that anæsthetized and entranced them, but yet heighten'd and riveted their attention on the spectacle before them. Before blinding the witnesses in their turn she inform'd them that she had pluckt out her own sisters' eyes so that Michæla might, once her aunts were dead, sit upon the throne as a witless and eyeless insult to the Katharinians while she and her Lenxin lover raped the realm.

Once render'd sightless themselves, the unwilling witnesses were at last made to drink of the wine of witlessness; but, perhaps as a result of the earlier draught, it had no effect upon either of them. They learnt all that they could from their few full witted elders among the Blind Lengna, and then, a few weeks later, with the help of these their seniors, they became the only two ever to escape their shamefull thralldom, and breach the shroud of secrecy which had hitherto hidden their very existence in a darkness as absolute as that whereunto they themselves had been condemned.

The one truly fortunate thing about this horrifick encounter was that one of the good men that Lord Michæl had fetcht that night had a good friend in the Order of Preservers who met with them the next morning. As a result, Andrew now knew the worst of what was happening in Leonisa -- and where and when the rebellion was to start. He was most pleased to share this information with his old friends -- especially the forlorn Regnalka who had winter'd in the Embassy.

* * * * *

The rebel armies were powerfull enough to lay siege to Leonisa and this posed a threat that Isidora VI could not ignore. As soon as word of the rebellion reacht her, she order'd her sister Elizabeth to make for their home city at full speed with virtually the entire eunuch army wherewith she had intimidated her way onto the Katharinian throne.

The siege was lifted quickly as the rebels, seeing themselves vastly outnumber'd, were not so foolish as to let their foes engage them. Patricia, on behalf of the sister whom she herself had reduced to a blind and laughing imbecile, invited her esteem'd aunt to be the guest of honour at a palace banquet. The Regnalka Elizabeth, who had so briefly been First Regnalka, was now drug'd senseless, but by the grace of her most respectfull niece was allow'd to keep her eyes -- at least while she lived. It was the First Regnalka's privilege rather to be drest and gutted and baked whole in an oven and then served to the very eunuchs whose testicles she herself had shared with her evil sister.

Elizabeth's nieces, both blind and sighted, were no dilettantes in the word of vice, and certainly no strangers to cannibalism. They were accorded the choicest tidbits -- the sinfull aunt's eyes in fact being set before what was left of the Regnalka Michæla, who laught when she ate them with the same moronick gusto wherewith she had eaten her own on the day that her very imaginative younger sister had replaced them with polisht spheres of royal amethyst.

It was a laughter wherein the wicked Patricia and the one-handed læng who sat next to her were delighted to share.

The eunuchs, the more senior of whom had been long steept in depravity themselves, were generally delighted by the evening's entertainments and were thus quite content to accept Patricia as their new commander. No report would be going back to Katharintisten other than the news that the siege had been lifted.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Twelve

Back in Katharintisten, Isidora VI was much encouraged by the report from her home city. She grew bolder over the next few weeks and perhaps grew careless. On Ascension Eve, as nearly as the Judicial Council could place it, she finally silenced her last outspoken critick, the Empress Dowager. It was the Judicial Council, hitherto thought of as a largely dormant and deservedly derided body, that finally brought Isidora's evil reign to an end. The Judicial Council consisted of eight members, replenished by a complex combination of lot, seniority, and merit from a pool of sixty-four judicial lieutenants, whose own numbers were replenisht strictly by lot, from the total pool of Katharinian novices, (with such exceptions as were consider'd appropriate). Both the eight and the sixty-four were set apart from the ordinary ranks of the Katharinian Order. Each had her right foot dyed crimson red and her left dyed patrician blue and her nails painted in the opposing colours. Their judgement, when unanimous, was absolute and binding even upon the Sovereign Mother herself. They had even the power, albeit at the forfeiture of their own lives, to condemn their sovereign to death. On the evening of what Harriet might have counted as Trinity Sunday, she and KShena were call'd before the council to be brief'd on a judgement that would be pronounced and executed the next morning.

Isidora arose in indignation that morning when she heard the great bell summoning the entire Katharinian Order to assemble in the courtyard. KShena stood tall and proud above the block, gripping the blood drencht boards of the scaffold with her strong bare feet, as her firm breasts, naked as ever under her shining gorgett, hove with the righteous wrath that had so fascinated Harriet twenty years earlier. The heads that KShena was cutting off this morning were those of the eight members of the Judicial Council. Marching to the block with the pride of bridesmaids at a royal wedding, they were being beheaded at their own behest. As each of the first seven approacht the block, she waited as two Judicial lieutenants removed the remnants of the one before her.

Then each cry'd out in the Changeless Speech the ancient words of the Psalmist: <<Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm!>> Then each having pronounced these words, knelt and blest herself +and gave the sign for KShena to dispatch her. The last and most senior of them had a good deal more to say. She quoted the law and the precedents whereunder they were acting, expounded their formal judgement against the unworthy Sovereign Mother, her sister Elizabeth (of whose death they were unwitting) their two evil nieces and the new Chief Læng and condemn'd all five to have first their feet and then their heads cut off. Then with a final shout of <<God save Margarita V!>> she lay'd her head on the blood soakt block and proudly died under KShena's blade.

Isidora, being the only one of the five condemned to be still present in Katharintisten knew that she could find few supporters there, and certainly no place to hide, so with a proud defiance she came down from her balcony, strode across the courtyard and mounted the scaffold. Before her arrival a befooting bed had been placed before the block and she nodded her gratitude to the eunuchs who had brought it; but before taking her final repose upon it, she took the cup that Harriet offer'd her that she might quickly quaff the wine that would render her insensitive to the pain of having her feet cut off; yet when she fill'd her evil mouth thereof she instantly spat it out upon the ground and flang the chalice back with a curse.

Harriet's face contorted into a tight lipt smirk. She would have wet herself trying to control her laughter, had she not just poured the anæsthetic down a drain and pist in the cup. In her hatred of the hag on whom she waited, she had committed a sin that KShena, had she known, might well have slapt her face for, and she would later repent of that sin -- but now she savour'd the self-righteous pleasure of it. Harriet wist full well that she would also know pain that day.

Isidora reposed herself upon the befooting bed with a grim snicker and a curse for the priest who came to shrive her. <<Mumble over someone else, fool. I am Pampá!>>

Offended on behalf of everything that he held holy he shouted back to her aloud: <<Thou goest as a goddess then. Very well. See if they will set a throne for thee in Hell, and if the devils will bow down before thee.>>

A peal of laughter rang through the assembled host. KShena struck off the purple feet just as the laughter died. She could not allow Harriet to assist on this occasion, but took up those blood foul'd feet herself and set them before Isidora's face as she pronounced the traitor's curse.

<<Traitor thou callest me?>> Roar'd the dying hag from the block. <<Traitor thou art! Come now. Send me to Hell and I shall await thee there. Let these laughing whores see which of us dies the better. Hast thou the courage now to do what the law demandeth of thee? Oh, what a lovely neck thou hast!>>

KShena leapt in the air as she brought down her great sword to silence forever the blaspheming mouth of Isidora Pampá. Then, taking up the sever'd head by the hair, she flang it angrily down from the scaffold to smash like a rotten old melon upon the pavement below. At last KShena repeated the words of the late Chief of the Judicial Council: <<God save Margarita V!>> Then, as she had plan'd the previous night, she handed her sword to Harriet as a pair of eunuchs pushed away the befooting bed whereupon Isidora's body yet lay, and knelt down herself before the blood soakt block.

Harriet wept as she waited for Father Philip to complete his last sacred service to the beloved aunt whom she would now have to behead. Then she heard a voice that she instantly recognised.

Responding promptly to the window code, the beloved Regnalka who had just acceded to the Katharinian throne had crost from the Embassy that morning via the tunnel that ran under the canal and now emerged from the crowd and strode onto the scaffold.

<<Hold thy sword, Harriet. I may not spare the life of this most noble Katharinian; nor would she have me spare it, for she knoweth the law as well as any. Nevertheless KShena shall not die without my blessing.>>

<<My Sovereign Mother,>> exclaim'd the self doom'd executioner as she arose and genuflected before her and fervently kist both her hands and her feet, <<I thank my God that He hath let me behold thee ere I die, -- and die I must. It is the law and we must keep it. Live and reign in honour my lady and let me die in honour. Let it be known that I gladly died for thee and that I was the first to pay thee homage.>>

The new sovereign's eyes were also fill'd with tears now. She nodded grimly and then embraced and kist KShena and patted the blood drencht toes with her own in the ancient Katharinian blessing.

KShena knelt at the block again and resolutely lay'd her head upon it.

Harriet, despite her tears, struck with a proud perfection. It was KShena's own sword that ended her life, burying itself a full inch into the blood soakt oak. None would ever draw it out again, for Margarita V decreed that block and sword together would stand before KShena's tomb in the great Cathedral, and nearby would stand the tombs of the eight Judges. Only thus could they be properly honoured.

The remains of Isidora VI were driven out of the palace compound atop a wagon load of dung and burnt thereon without the city.

The new Sovereign Mother spent most of the morning receiving the homage of all the remaining Regnalkána and all of their patrician officers. Then, although in doing so she broke with recent precedent, she received the same from all the lesser ranks of the order -- down to the lowest novice. By the end of the day, her hands and feet were raw and bleeding from their fervent kisses and their salty tears, but she would not have had it otherwise. It was their day as much as hers. The Katharinians now felt renew'd and ready to face their final confrontation with the remnants of the evil house of Leonisa.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Thirteen

The Preservers made it possible for the Imperial commanders to know of the decision of the Judicial Council almost as soon as Margarita Bhozetsa knew of it. Already station'd on the Imperial side of the great bridge when they saw the signal flag on the Preservers' Consulate, the Imperial armies were crossing the Island of Peace even as Margarita V was receiving the fealty of the Regnalkána. By nightfall, they were being welcom'd by the joyfull citizens of Pernebherg.

They slept that night confident in knowing that they would be joining the Katharinian host at Katharintisten in four more days; and that even though only three days of equivalent riding separated the eunuch hordes of Leonisa from the capital; it would also be at least another whole day and night before the news reacht that place of sin.

In fact the Preservers had been even more thorough. They had got word to Lord Michæl and the other nobles who had join'd in the rebellion against the Leonisisana. They did not attack the city but timed their appearance on the high ground overlooking her very carefully to coincide with the probable arrival of the news from Katharintisten. The plan workt well and Patricia, never much of a military strategist, was totally confounded and saw no better option than to fortify her palace against the inevitable siege.

Margarita V used the four days before the arrival of her Imperial allies for a purge of the more accessible parts of her new realm, which, while by Katharinian standards scrupulously carefull in its justice, was so draconian that it would once have shockt her. She had Isidora's Archbishop drag'd before her in chains and beheaded when she was assured by the assembled clergy that he was no bishop at all but only a long defrockt priest who had been excommunicated and condemn'd by the Patriarch himself not only for daring to assume the Archepiscopal throne but for desecrating the blessed sacrament in dæmonic rites. Besides this false apostle, she call'd upon Harriet to behead more than a hundred others, mostly lengna and eunuchs but also bhozamagana of various ranks and a few lay people. Most confest their sins and died in a state of grace. Sorry as she felt for some of them, she would not take the risk of sparing their lives. She fear'd the monstrous evil that had been brought to her attention, not with the simple fear of a common woman who would answer to God only for her own sins, nor even with the greater fear of a priest who knows that he will be call'd to account for the souls entrusted to his care, but with the terrible fear that only Godly monarchs know when they behold their own anointed hands and wit that they will be call'd to account not only for their own living subjects but for the lives of countless children who will be yet unborn when they themselves are lay'd to rest. That fear did not begin to abate until Pentæng's sever'd hand had been found and burnt and the Lengna found with it beheaded. She had seen once before what use could be made of such an object, and she fear'd the power Pentæng might have cut it off to gain.

Harriet was glad as well to see it burnt, for she had no desire to keep the same vigil over this hand that she had once kept over another.

* * * * *

Arriving at last in Katharintisten, Conrad happily anticipated the chance to spend at least part of an evening with his daughter, but his reunion with his mother was something that he could never have anticipated. Perhaps Andrew had been wise in his decision to break the news to Conrad first, but in any case Ann Kingslynn's anxieties proved unfounded. The son received the mother warmly, yea with a sense of joy that an old wound in his family had finally been heal'd and that the father that he had so loved could now know a yet greater joy in heaven.

Ann Kingslynn's joy, however, was tainted with trepidation, for she knew that she must surrender both son and granddaughter to the mad fortunes of war. At the end of the evening, she favour'd each with a tearfull kiss and an anxious prayer, having been inform'd by no less than the new Sovereign Mother herself that the preparations of the morrow would hold no place for a mother. Barefooted since her arrival at the embassy and now finally arrived in the palace that would be her cloister, she would, as a widow, have St. Katharine's cross tattoo'd on the sole of each bare foot the next Sunday, but those bare feet would never be dyed, nor, as a widow, would she ever be given more than a patrician blue shoulder cape to distinguish the white tunick of her perpetual novitiate.

Setting out the next morning on their four day ride to Leonisa, both the Katharinians and the Imperials were in high spirits and expected a quick and glorious conclusion to their campaign. Riding out with all the righteous confidence of avenging angels, they spoke of the remaining Leonisisana and the blasphemous læng whose sorcery served them as if their unholy heads were already on the block.

On the last day, as they rode up the river that bare the same name as the now infamous city, they at last beheld the tops of the dark towers of the fortress-like palace that the late Isidora VI had built for herself in the days when she had been known as Katharine the Banisht. Standing on the north bank of the western, upriver side of the city, it was intended to be the first thing anyone from Katharintisten saw of the city she ruled.

No sooner had the towers resolved themselves on the horizon than the heads of the foremost horsemen of an army appear'd before them, approaching, it appear'd, at full gallop. When they were close enough for their standards to read, the hostile army halted with their first rank forming a firm straight line. Then an enormous eunuch rode out from that rank -- a rank of giants whom he nonetheless dwarft -- and crost half the space between the armies and cry'd aloud: <<I call upon the strumpet who would now be call'd Margarita V. Let us see if she dare engage me in combat; for I am the champion of Isidora the Blind. Mine were her first testicles. I am her strength and she is mine. Come, Margarita, let us see whose day this will be.>>

Imposing as Margarita herself was physically, she knew that this gelded oaf was far larger than she was and far younger -- probably half her age and half again her weight. He was also a full head higher. She knew, however, that she could not refuse his challenge. Seeing that Harriet and Paula were close by her, she turn'd to them with a smile and a naughty aside in English: "What a magnificent pair of balls he must have cut off for that witch," she mused, smacking her lips. "I wonder if she ate them raw?"

Harriet knew that this crude piece of bravado was meant to lift their spirits, but her heart was still in her throat as she watch'd her beloved queen ride out to meet her foe. The monstrous eunuch made the most fearsome noises and he swang a sword that Harriet would later try in vain to heft, but Margarita was by far the better skill'd in battle and within a few passes claim'd his head. Harriet and her young niece join'd the cheer as their regiment roar'd with pride around them. Then they quicken'd their mounts and rode down upon their foes.

The engagement was a brief one, as the eunuch hordes quickly broke ranks and fled. Harriet got in a few good blows but could claim no kills. Paula's experience, however, was quite dramatick. Seeing an eunuch much larger than herself riding down upon her, she remember'd her training and bracing her sword firmly in front of her, managed to impale him through the midsection before he could strike. In her attempt to retrieve her blade she was pull'd from her mount as her foe fell from his. She was knockt unconscious and badly trampled. She awoke in an ambulance wagon with a dozen other wounded Katharinians, some of whom she recognized. Arda was there, mercifully on the other side of the less than comfortable conveyance, and prevented, by a torn thigh, from coming over and adding a back slap to her rough greeting. Then at the door of the wagon, she heard two familiar voices from her own regiment. Great Olga, cussing and moaning, was being loaded into the wagon with a broken head. Halka, her companion from the days that they train'd with Harriet and Sarah, was remonstrating with her in their Slovonick polyglot, and simultaneously attempting to order the attendants about in the Changeless Speech. The feisty little Polka had grown in guþcræft but not at all in stature. Halka would have been a pleasant companion had she been going along, but she was more than sound in wind and limb and the indignant attendants finally pusht her out and shut the doors. Paula had no permanent injuries, but her grandmother was glad of the opportunity to play nurse to her when she arrived back in Katharintisten. Old Sarah, whose own fighting days had been ended by a smasht shoulder in a long past battle, was delighted to listen to Paula's account of her first kill.

* * * * *

The Katharinian and Imperial armies together had hardly suffer'd three score dead and had accounted for the lives of perhaps thrice as many of their foes. Loses had thus been very light, even for the Leonisin eunuchs, and the ease wherewith these had been put to flight rather mystify'd Margarita who could only conclude that their brief sortie could have had no better purpose than harassment. When the Katharinians gave chase, however, they came upon something truly bizarre. A sumptuous palanquin had been left ungraciously upon the road by the dozen eunuchs whose duty it must have been to bear it; and upon closer approach a mixture of empty laughter and mindless singsong was heard to emanate therefrom. The Sovereign Mother herself rode up and drew aside its curtains, only to behold the monstrosity that had once been the Regnalka Michælia, her eyes replaced by amethysts, and her mind replaced by God-knew-what. So this was 'Isidora the Blind.' Margarita Bhozetsa order'd that this her distant cousin be drag'd from the palanquin and made to kneel at one of its lug poles, so that Father Philip might have her in a suitable position for an attempt at shriving her before Harriet cut off her head. Margarita felt that under the circumstances it was entirely proper to set aside that part of the Judicial Council's sentence that had call'd for Michælia to have her feet cut off before she died.

As Father Philip gave her the last rights, her empty laughter quieted; and as he concluded his prayers, God's long estranged servant Michælia made the sign of the cross over herself. The Sovereign Mother did likewise, aware that she had witnest a minor miracle. She was nonetheless quite sure that the purposes of Grace would, in Michælia's case, best be served in Purgatory, and so had Harriet sent her thither without delay. The body, in light of the incontestable evidence of such Grace was then deem'd a suitable offering to the WALPTREINA.

"How could she do that?" howled Harriet, as she lookt down upon the eyeless head in horror. "How could that monster do such a thing to her own sister?"

"Only the Devil knows," spat her liege lady, "but we can take comfort in the knowledge that she'll have no sister in hell -- and by heaven, I'll not rest till we've sent her there!"

* * * * *

Their musings over the pitiable remians of the hapless victim who had been so contemptuously abandon'd to them were cut short by a shout of alarm from their hind ranks as well as from those who had been sent to the high ground to observe the retreat of their foes, for not only had that foe that they had thought routed turn'd briskly about for another attack, but a far more frightfull foe had appear'd from behind them.

This threat from the rear appear'd to some as an army of terrible monsters, fiends from a thousand nightmares bearing down upon them, to others it was a formless wall of flame, a tidal wave of fear, or perhaps some nameless terror that would not even present itself as a visual image but only a vaguely vector'd doom.

A part of Margarita quaked at that approach of this amorphous horror even as her subordinants quaked, but another, higher part of her saw through the illusion, as though it were naught but the cheap smoke of some poor charlatan. She implor'd the Imperials to deal only with that foe wherewith they were familiar, and in fact order'd most of the Katharinian host to do likewise. She herself would face this new menace with the strength only of that regiment which had of late been her own. It was a business wherein she wanted no others.

<<Fear them not,>> she exhorted as she gather'd her niece Philippa and her chief officers around her, <<for these are but a few sinfull mortals masquerading amidst a band of impotent ghosts call'd forth in desparation from the worst part of the wraith world. Let us ask the prayers of our foundress that we might put our fears behind us and see with the eyes of faith. These sinners call upon a few sinfull ghosts; but we call upon a vast multitude of faithfull witnesses.>>

It was not to prove so easy. Those bearing down on them were indeed spellweavers, but as such they were skill'd and practiced in their dark craft. As from the depths of this fearwoven dwolma Harriet heard the haunting sounds of Lenxin chanting, that odd perversion of the Changeless Speech that confounded the reason even of learned linguists but found its way with frightfull clarity into the dark dreamcentre of the mind. To attend to it on any level would be fatal. Harriet knew this, for, like most Katharinians, she was quite familiar with this type of Linxin magick. It was what some might term hypnotick illusion and was dependant upon subliminal suggestion. These Lengna were without the benefit of their usual pharmacopoea of drug'd wines; but they might well be calling up suggestions planted in the minds of their victims years ago during the administration of such ordinary of Lenxin services during which the one so served was traditionally entranced. Harriet, like her Sovereign, and to some extene the rest of the regiment, had been prepared for just such an attack, but that only made it a little less frightening.

Harriet fill'd her mind with an image of St. Katharine the Barefooted chanting that ancient litany of their order. Then the swirling mist of nightmare began to clear -- or rather, to wax transparent until it was but a poor projection. What Harriet now saw were a few dozen naken Lengna. Each had a sever'd hand, presumably her own, hung round her neck as if to grope her breast in a black romance of life and death plighted by a silver chain. Then she felt somethng like an evil laugh ripping throuh her as she stared at these unholy laVallieres. Harriet pray'd the harder and forced herself to scan the field as she had been train'd to do. There was a sword in each left hand and a shield concealed the stup of each right arm. She would chose a single foe now, like a lioness choosing a prey. She noted two that stood out from the others. One of these was very large, and, though naked as any of them, was sumptuously bejewell'd -- but that one was closing to engage the Sovereign Mother herself and Harriet understood that this must be so. The nude that Harriet then chose was a slight figure brested in a gleaming gorgett of silver whereover was suspended not her own right hand but a substitute cunningly crafted of solid gold. This could only be Pentæng herself. Harriet was sure of this as she rode towards her and her assurance was as much a matter of instinct as of deduction. Then their eyes met and Harriet felt the fulnes of Pentæng's evil power directed toward herself alone. She beheld for an instant an hidious incarnation of poisonous hatred and wist, by some unnameable detail of the monstrous guise that she presented, that Pentæng somehow knew that the sword now raised against her had once beheaded Priscillæng, and thus rob'd her of her first and most powerful passion. Harriet's fear almost overwhelm'd her but she remember'd her prayers and stript the sorceress back to her nakedness as all her gorey glamour faded like smoke before a mighty wind. One blow from Harriet's sword sever'd Pentæng's remaining hand and send her blade clattering to the ground. Then she struck off the evil head -- but as Harriet half expected, it did not likewise fall but disappear'd entirely. Whithersoever Priscilæng had gone, Pentæng must have follow'd.

With the death of the principal sorceress the less talented of her protogees were suddenly left in a state of simple nakedness and the shreds of glamour that the more talented were able to produce around themselves were poor and transparent. The tide of battle turn'd and it was quickly over. The wicked Lengna fought to the death but yet fought poorly and now without their magick could calim no further Katherinian lives in exhange for their own. When Harriet turn'd to find her queen, Margarita stood over a dying nude, who proved to have been the last of the Leonisisána. Once a perverse parody of a Regnalka, and now an even more disgraceful parody of a læng the once proud Particia lay broken and disembowel'd, her sunder'd entrails stinking even as her soul stank. She spat and curst the Sovereign Mother in indignation and demanded to be dispatch'd to hell without delay as if she had some grand audience there which ought not be kept waiting. Margarita seem'd first about to summon Harriet for the task but in the end undertook herself the beheading of her last rival.

* * * * *

Harriet was left in charge of dispatching whatever wounded Lengna might yet remain alive and then burning the unholy bodies on a dung pyre. She found it a tiresome and unpleasant task even though she was able to delegate most of it away from herself personally. She was glad when the pyre was finally well alight, and she could sniff the shitty stench with a perverse satisfaction; for she could then rejoin her regiment.

When at last Harriet and her small company were able to report back to their Sovereign, Margarita herself had already rejoin'd the rest of the Katharinian host and the Imperials who had fought with them, and was conferring with the Emperor and his commanders as well as her own officers as to what might be the quickest and safest way to make an end of the evil fortress whereinto they had chased the few survivors of the eunuch hordes that had once caused Katharintisten to tremble. There was little likelyhood that these stragglers could pose any serious threat from the battlements, but they would still be dangerous once the fortress was enter'd and they began to be corner'd in various ratholes within it. Margarita at last decided to break down the doors and enter herself at the head of a clearly overwhelming force, and to do so without further delay. The Imperial army had a battering ram ready for the task and it was soon accomplisht.

Harriet herself, already stript down to her working skirt, was given another, rather predictable assignment which precluded her participation in this final operation. Although most of the Leonisin host had been slain on the battlefield, a significant number surrendered. Most of these askt for and were granted transportation to the foolish lands, but more than a thousand elected to have themselves shriven of their sins and beheaded on the spot. Five executioners and fifteen priests were assign'd to comply with their wishes; and still it took all day and left Harriet aching and swearing that she never wanted to cut off another head. She watch'd the WALPTREINA devour them and could only think of the Leonisisána growing fat on their testicles.

Such dangers as Harriet's wearisome assignment had spared her were no worse than those she had already faced. There were a few ambushes. On one such the Sovereign Mother was saved by her gorgett from an arrow which later proved to have been poison'd. Karena was actually wounded in the same attack and by a similar arrow, but fortunately she was carry'd back to the care of a preserver who had knowledge of such things quickly enough to save her. Two young Imperials met their deaths in a particularly devilish trap. On the whole, however, there were very few casualties among either the Katharinians or their allies. When they had slain the last of those eunuchs who had been willing to resist them, brought out those who had chosen not to resist them and counted the bodies of those who had chosen to take their own lives rather than face them, they quickly forgot the paltry menace that they had posed. Indeed they seem'd to be little more than the flies one might have expected at some dæmonick feast -- hardly memorable within the context of the soul chilling horrors encounter'd within their abominable abode. Margarita and her followers came upon the most disgusting evidence of grusome sacrifices, ritual mutilations, cannibalism, and probably vampirism -- such things as the basest and most deeply fallen humans fell into when in the depths of their folly they sought to buy the favour of dæmons. The Katharinians were as deeply appal'd as Lord Michæl had been when he came upon the Blind Lengna; but when they found the hideous Globes of Beholding wherein the eyes of these unfortunate young women had been seal'd to serve some sorcery none dared imagine, many wonder'd how they would ever sleep again without this wretched tour being endlessly repeated in their nightmares.

Harriet was glad that her work, grim and tiring as it had been, had kept her from the worst of these horrors; but she was not spared them entirely for her task on the morrow was the beheading of the Blind Lengna.

Like the pair who had made their way to Lord Michæl's stables, every one of these wretches implor'd their liberators to behead them. Before being sent to their final reward, they spend the last real night of what for them had been endless night, receiving absolution for their sins and then communion at a special mass which Father Philip said for them in the great hall wherein they were sheltered.

What imprest Harriet most about them, once she could see past the frightfull spheres of polisht jet wherewith their stolen eyes had been replaced, was the total solidarity they all seem'd to feel within the ghastly sisterhood whereinto they had been initiated by the appalling act of Godspiting cruelty whereunto those helish spheres were witness. Now sharing the awareness of that mind healing grace that had first been granted to the most unworthy Michæla, they were unanimous in their refusal of any clothing and in their insistance on being beheaded in publick. Their shame and reproach would end that day and they display'd a sense of joyfull gratitude about this, often breaking into song, and yet there seem'd also to be a defiance in their nakedness as they proudly follow'd those who led them to the block, as if they were determined both to bear and to bare that shame and that reproach as a witness against those who had made them what they were.

Before Harriet's task began the Sovereign Mother had briefly addrest the onlookers, saying a few words about the two Blind Lengna whose escape had ultimately brought down the Leonisisána. They had been return'd to be reunited with the others and were now to be the first to go to their deaths. Margarita kist them and commended them to God.

Harriet felt the same pains in her arms that she had felt the day before but her bonewearyness was offset by a sense of katharsis. Leonisa was finally being cleaned of its evil and of its horror.

As Harriet beheaded them, they were set in a pile, heads and bodies together, and thus offered to the WALPTREINA, a dozen of whom came to feast upon them, and thus prove, in the Katharinian view, that they had at least gone to their deaths in a state of grace.

As these great and terrible creatures again took flight at the end of their grim feast, the Katharinians seem'd to bid them a silent but very thankfull farewell, for they had seen yet another step towards the cleansing of Leonisa.

Now only the fortress itself remain'd, that palace of perversion, wherein had been seen such rotting horrors as might haunt many for the rest of their lives. Margarita vow'd that they would be seen no more. She order'd the building set ablaze throughout and left to burn till only its cruel stone walls remain'd and then these themselves pull'd down. When the ashes cool'd she would have Father Philip say a mass in the midst of it for the souls of the Blind Lengna and all the other innocents who had suffered and died therein. Then the vines and the creepers and all of God's little wild things were to be left to take it over and all men enjoin'd for all time against ever building there again.

It was so done.

A Safe Enough

DISTANCE

Chapter Fourteen

Margarita V, Sovereign Mother of the Most Holy Order of St. Katharine the Barefooted, and thus Queen of all the Lands North of the Break, return'd to Katharintisten amid great rejoicing. Several weeks were required to arrange her formal coronation, but when the newly consecrated Archbishop of Alexandretisten anointed her hands and feet and placed the crown of Alexandra upon her head and hung the gorgett of St. Katharine over her breasts, he did so in the presence not only of all the surviving Regnalkána but of the Emperor and the Patriarch themselves and of most of the Southern Princes as well.

She had given the most carefull thought to her coronation edict, for therein she set out a number of reforms of a more momentous nature than any since the reign of Leona the Great. Her first reference in fact had been to the most famous -- or infamous -- of Leona's institutions. In broaching the subject of eunuchism she knew that the Emperor and the Patriarch would both be hanging on her words, despite the fact that she had brieft them both beforehand. Males would thenceforth be welcome to enter the Katharinian Order as God had made them on exactly the same terms as females and under the same simple vow of celibacy. They would have their feet dyed in the same colours and in accordance with the same rules as their sisters in the Order. Only the ban on males of Royal Blood would remain as it had been. Companies of intact males would be establisht within the regiments of all three of Margarita's nieces. Male novices might, however, still become red footed eunuchs if they so chose, but if they did so they would thenceforth be forced to follow the very strict rules of the Alexandretisten Regiment and to cut off their own testicles in the palace of Alexandretisten on the occasion of the Sovereign Mother's annual visit there. The Lengna would never again be permitted to be involved in castration. It would thenceforth be required that the testicles of all Katharinian Eunuchs be eaten either by the Sovereign Mother herself or by the Regnalka serving as colonel in chief of the Alexandretisten Regiment.

The Judicial Council would be expected to appoint a custodian to have formal charge of the testicles during the entire process to make sure that no improprieties ever occurred. Lenxin cooks might still prepare and fry the testicles, but they would do so under the strictest supervision.

With the help of Barbaræng, the new Chief Læng, who had been Margarita's girlhood friend and who had been elevated to the chief position in the medical faculty during the reign of Alexandra XVI, the Lenxin order was also being reform'd. The faculty of gelders was to be entirely supprest and replaced by a new faculty of archers, wherein most Lengna would be encouraged to qualify. (Many Lengna had been train'd in archery over the years, but it had never enjoy'd faculty status.) More importantly, a reform was proclaim'd to discourage the false vocation of hystrionick suidicals into the Lenxin ranks. From thenceforth no Læng might be beheaded for any offence that would not ordinarily result in the beheading of a Bhozamaga. Lenxin sexual offenses, in particular, were now to be dealt with by a reform'd Lenxin Judicial Council through penances of prayer and fasting.

All Katharinian judicial and penitential practices, in fact, were to be reform'd and integrated through a much closer co”peration between the Judicial Council -- now replenish'd and revitalised -- and the regimental chaplains. To better insure the moral and spiritual health of all Katharinians, a yearly penitential period of at least one week during Lent would thenceforth be enjoin'd upon every member of the order from the Sovereign Mother herself down to the lowest novice and including the eunuchs, the Lengna, and the chaplains themselves. Additional penance could be imposed on any Katharinian either by the clergy or by the Judicial Council and most typically would be imposed by representatives of both acting in concert.

There were to be two categories of penance: minor penance, lasting a fortnight or less; and major penance, lasting more than a month. Minor penance would have no future repercussions, but major penance would disqualify any Katharinian from any further advancement in rank unless the Judicial Council unanimously agreed to wave the disqualification. A Regnalka who had once been given a major penance could not thereafter claim the throne as Sovereign Mother. The Sovereign Mother could herself be penanced for up to a year by a unanimous vote of the Judicial Council in which case the First Regnalka would act as regent just as when the Sovereign Mother did her annual penance during Lent. Beyond the maximum penalty of a year's penance the only punishment for wrongdoing was beheading. The unanimous consent of the Judicial Council would be strictly required -- as it theoretically had been before -- before any Katharinian was beheaded, and in the case of a judgement of death against the Sovereign Mother herself, the beheading of all eight members of the Judicial Council would, as before, be required to seal the verdict.

She also reïterated her initial edict of attainder against the Leonisisana, applying to all siblings, nieces, and nephews of Isidora VI and to all of their descendants forever; stripping them of all their former lands, titles, and possessions within the Katharinian realm; forbidding them the use of the royal surname or any patrician surname; forbidding them to marry into any royal or patrician family; forbidding them to enter the Katharinian Order in any capacity; and finally imposing the penalty of death for fraudulent violation of any of these terms.

Lord Michaæl, who had already been granted all of the lands that had previously been held by the Leonisisana was now further honour'd by the Sovereign Mother's proclamation that he and his male descendants would henceforth be accounted as princes eligible even to be chosen as consorts for the breeding daughters of the house of Bhozetsa.

The edict, in its written form, bore the unanimous subscription of the newly replenished Judicial Council, all of the Regnalkána, the archbishop and all of the bishops of the realm, and all of the Sovereign Mother's tenants in chief.

Note on the Endpapers

Rev. Mother:

In trusting you with these books, I am taking what some in my order would term an unacceptable risk. I can not say what my predecessor, Brother Andrew would have had to say about this, either, but I can say that my trust in you is based upon his. Having now read the books, you know that Andrew was not simply a traveller from a different part of your world, but in fact a traveller from a different world -- a world not locatable from yours in either space or time. A year ago, I introduced myself to you as a member of Andrew's order as well as the successor to his professorship here at Stephendale. In light of this, you have probably surmised that I am also a traveller from that same world. Strange as this may strike you though, I must now tell you something even stranger.

Five years ago, by your reckoning, Brother Andrew brought you five rather unusual dinner guests, four of whom had painted feet. The most prominent of these was a forty-five year old princess of whom you once told me that she has been in your prayers ever since. A fortnight ago in Katharintisten, I wept at the passing of a ninety-year-old queen who had reign'd for forty-five good and happy years. These, our two poignant memories, honour one and the same person, Margarita V of the House of Bhozetsa.

I was born in the tenth year of that bless‚d reign, the only child of Conrad Kingslynn's youngest daughter Victoria. I am the youngest great grandson of Ann Kingslynn, whom you also met that night and the youngest nephew of Paula, whom you likewise met. I am furthermore, as you may also easily reckon, the great great grand nephew of your predecessor, Mother Elizabeth. I grew up longing to join the Order of Preservers even as Andrew had predicted thirty years before my birth and Andrew himself lived just long enough to congratulate me on passing through the Great Dream. (Here I refer you back to the first book.)

My greatest fulfillment has been to take over Andrew's work at Stephendale; but in order to do so effectively, it was necessary for me to displace myself a full forty years backwards from the time sequence that Andrew was following in your world so that my first visit to you would come -- from your point of view -- less than two years after his last. This was both what Andrew had wanted for me and what I had wanted for myself -- but I had to complete another twenty years of training first, and was only ready to begin my work in Stephendale at the age of thirty-four.

We Preservers, as you will have read, are changed beings, sexless, and very long lived. Andrew lived to be one hundred and seventy, and I myself shall not, in another century, seem very much older than you are now, it would not, however be prudent of me to associate myself with Stephendale for more than a decade or so, as I should not like to attract too much of the wrong sort of attention to myself. I am especially concern'd about my position here now that I must consider the unpleasant possibility that, with that God cursed queer of a "secular humanist" in charge of the college, both you and I and our respective orders could well loose not only what influence we have left here but our welcome as well. We must coöperate more closely now, and that co”peration will have to justify a measure of risk on my part beyond what would otherwise be prudent. We shall have to devote a few evenings together to the discussion of that subject, however, and I shall look forward to those evenings with great pleasure.

Let me now, however, update some of the other lives mention'd within these books:

I must end this now before it become another book.

Please take more care of your health, Reverend Mother, for I sense that both your personal strength and the stability of your house may soon be of considerable importance for every Christian in Stephendale.

Your brother in Christ,

Alexander