The coach topped the pass and began snaking its way down the switchbacks. All the passengers tried to be conspicuous in their pretense of staring out the windows, but they glanced furtively at the hulking and unsociable Melkus. He only glowered more contemptuously. They pretended to show one another points of interest and they all nodded earnestly. Melkus laughed like a mountain and they became quiet again.

The late afternoon sun lit the destination below and reminded him of better days. These degenerate pilgrims were going there to celebrate Black Revels; he was going to visit a friend.

As the coach rounded one bend he looked up to see Upper Ashurston. In the past it had been a noble heap. It was both a fort and a monastery with a reputation reaching all the great capitals, now it looked rather less noble and rather more aloof. Lower Ashurston, like the rest of the valley, looked as though it had been sacked by goblins. If one had known the town at its height, he would not believe it today. All the way from Perthyr to Arnynlahd was a waste. It had been plundered, quarried and cannibalized, and the only clues to the glory of the valley were the immense footings of the great Houses. Everything was a shambles. Lord Mauntecroir's manor, a gift to his wife, was a muddy hole.

At one time the entire valley was a fugue of mansions and parks, cottages and vegetable gardens, pastures, ponds, flower beds, promenades, fountains and intimate footpaths. Now it was hopelessly overgrown, and in odd places the trees and brush had been cleared for no apparent purpose and the old wood just abandoned in large piles. It was hard to distinguish industry from vandalism.

The coach drove by what was once Academy Hall, now a ruin with nothing but witches and pickpockets squatting in rubble that looked to have been imported. The entire High Grove was a nasty thicket and High Street was now a snaggle-toothed pavement with weeds growing between the stones. It was obvious the gutters hadn't been working for years and large areas were stained with standing, smelly water.

The other travelers began to mumble and fidget and collect their bundles as the coach neared the Four Horses Inn. As darkness fell they were met by their friends, and the platform became a congregation of roaches and the close friends of roaches.

By the time Melkus stepped out of the coach whispers had reached certain ears and he was met with the sniveling greetings and obsequious giggles of people who fancied themselves town officials trying to head off some unpleasantness.

Melkus walked on.

He entered Four Horses to find that the grand rotunda had, since his last visit, been even further divided into a warren of spaces ideally suited for nefarious consultations. He found the room he wanted and his mere entrance displaced a gaggle of men in need of some soap. The room was dominated by a fireplace large enough to service the entire hall as originally conceived. Now it just looked comical. The thing looked like a grand fireplace with an attached cupboard.

Across this room he found her.

What once had been the face of twelve summers had become the face of eighty winters, and death had not shown her any mercy. When she saw him she smiled. It was a beautiful smile for such a battered face, and Melkus had always theorized that it was because she smiled only when she had a reason to smile. She never smiled to be ingratiating or hospitable or fawning. Her smiles always memorialized a real joy.

He bowed. "Your Highness."

"Melkus! I knew you would come. I wasn't sure the sun would rise, but I knew you would be here tonight. I'm sure your trip was quite unpleasant; have a sip." Her footman offered him a flute of something that might have been older than fire.

"It is harder to see this place every time I come," he said. "Debauchery is a bottomless pit."

"They that dwelt in Arnynlahd had much and yearned for little."

"Indeed," Melkus winced.

The two stared at one another like mother and son. The footman excused himself and left the two alone. The rowdy crowd had quit the bars and went out in the street to curse and laugh and to find someone to hang for sport. It was finally quiet.

"They built their scaffold on the site of the Ashurston Pavilion this year. It made me think of one of the last concerts."

"Yes, when Runneld played Last Sorrows," Melkus recollected. "I understand he had that vittebois made especially for that concert and he never played it again. Ever learn what happened to it?"

"I have it."

"I am comforted to hear it."

They sat and enjoyed one another's company silently. Outside there was a distant roar as the mob killed one of its own and then dispersed, going off in pairs to celebrate life in the only way they knew.

The two grieved as one.

Melkus slumped down in a chair that clearly was not adequate to its calling, stretched out his legs, tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

"From the the Ambreine Manuscript, Book II," he finally announced.

She smiled and closed her eyes.

The recitation began with the events of the early morning, before sunrise. While the enemy massed, the men of the town used the darkness to lay traps, make feints, misinform spies, set ambushes and generally prepare the field of battle.

Melkus spoke of sunrise and the joining of battle: he told of boys becoming men and of men becoming legends, of Ladies dressing the wounds of ploughboys and virgins singing to dying captains. He traced the battle through wood and stream and recounted the good death of bad men and he celebrated the glorious death of good men.

He told the story of dusk as the last remnants of the enemy were dug from their hiding places like grubs from rotten wood. In a single day the enemy was routed and the great issues Heaven had joined were resolved with valor, honor and by acts of transcending duty.

There was a very long silence as the two measured their veneration. Finally the queen spoke.

"You have done me a service a queen cannot recompense."

"Then I've met with success and will be on my way."

The footman entered the room and resumed his post. Melkus rose, bowed, excused himself and began walking back toward Perthyr.