"IT IS NOTthe wisest choice," Duke Kalas said in measured, controlled tones, and Jilseponie could easily read beneath the man's calm façade. The man was screaming inside that the appointment would be foolhardy, that giving the Church any kind of a foothold in Palmaris was akin to ceding the entire northland of Wester-Honce to the hated - by Duke Kalas, at least - Abellicans.

"The precedent for the situation was a smashing success, by every measure," King Danube calmly replied, and Jilseponie at his side did well to keep her satisfied smile hidden. She had spent the better part of a week preparing Danube for this decision: to allow Abbot Braumin Herde to succeed her as bishop of Palmaris. Danube had at first resisted, and strongly, despite his feelings of goodwill toward the man who, it was well known, had played more than a minor role in securing Jilseponie as Danube's queen. But Danube had understood the implications within his jealous and guarded court. Duke Kalas, in particular, had never been quiet about his hatred for the Abellican Church.

"By your pardon, my King, but the precedent was an appointment of State, not the Church, though Queen Jilseponie's allegiance to the Church is well known," Duke Kalas said. Now Jilseponie did smile and wanted to cheer the man for his self-control in uttering such hated words without the slightest hint of derision or disdain. Not an easy feat for the volatile man, she well knew!

"And so it is only fitting that we respond in kind by allowing this second Bishop to come from the Abellican Order," King Danube reasoned. Duke Kalas flinched, and it seemed to Jilseponie - and she found that she was enjoying the spectacle all too much - that the man was about to explode. "Abbot Braumin is a good man, by all accounts," the King added. "And I assure you that I have that from the very best of sources." He glanced over at Jilseponie as he finished, then took her hand and squeezed it.

Even brash Duke Kalas could not overtly go against that statement, Jilseponie realized, though she saw the little daggers hiding behind the man's outwardly conciliatory expression.

"Take heart, Duke Kalas, that Bishop Braumin will rule Palmaris in the best interest of Church and State," the Queen said confidently. "For he will rule Palmaris in the best interest of the folk of Palmaris."

"A Baron rules in the best interest of the King," Kalas interrupted, correcting her.

"I know that you have little faith in the Church," Jilseponie went on, ignoring the remark and unwilling to enter a debate. She - and not Kalas and not the majority of the King's court - truly believed that the best interests of the common folk were, in fact, the best interests of the King. "And I do not necessarily disagree with your assessments of that which occurred before. But I tell you now that this Abellican Church is not the Abellican Church of decades past but is an order more dedicated to the welfare of the citizenry - King Danube's flock."

Duke Kalas eyed her throughout her little speech with all the outward politeness necessary, but again Jilseponie had little trouble in seeing the murderous anger behind his dark eyes.

Secure that her husband would not waver in this, now that he had at last come to agree to the appointment, Jilseponie found that she enjoyed that undercurrent of frustration.

Again, far too much. For it did Jilseponie good to see any defeat of the haughty nobles, with their heartfelt beliefs that they were the only important persons in the kingdom, and that the common folk had to be appeased only to the point where they would not revolt against the Crown.

Duke Kalas was defeated in this matter, and he obviously knew it. He glanced around, as if looking for support, but his customary backer -Constance Pemblebury - the one who would have surely been a voice of dissension against the appointment of Braumin - was nowhere to be found this day, as with most days. Constance had not been visiting King Danube much since the wedding a month before. She had even spoken of traveling to Yorkey County for the milder climate for the coming winter.

Jilseponie hoped the woman would go, but she doubted for a moment that Constance, like Kalas, would let the new Queen so easily out from under her scrutiny.

Jilseponie knew enough to savor this minor victory, for she understood that she would find King Danube a difficult man to persuade. That, too, did not bother her. Indeed, had Danube simply caved in to her request without a week of arguing and debating, Jilseponie would have been disappointed in him. She and her husband would argue often concerning the actions of the Crown, she realized, and better for both if they could thoroughly and honestly discuss each issue before taking any drastic action. In this matter, though, Jilseponie's confidence had never even slightly wavered. Despite the unease it might cause in Ursal, she knew that the appointment of Abbot Braumin was to the great benefit of Palmaris and all the northland.

Duke Kalas bowed curtly and excused himself, explaining that he would prepare the horses for his and King Danube's scheduled hunt. It wasn't difficult for Jilseponie to see, from his every movement, that Duke Kalas did not agree with her assessment of Bishop Braumin Herde.

Somehow, and she knew that it was a wicked thought, Jilseponie found that his attitude made the little victory all the sweeter.

Soon after, King Danube excused himself from the audience room, leaving the afternoon appointments in the capable hands of his wife. It was a light schedule anyway, discussing a few points of minor contention among some of the lesser nobles; addressing one charge by an important silk merchant that an annoying street vendor was driving away customers; and one meeting Jilseponie did not look forward to in the least, but one that by request had to be conducted in private with Master Fio Bou-raiy.

"I sail before dawn," the master from St.-Mere-Abelle explained when he entered much later, to find a weary Jilseponie leaning heavily against the side of her throne.

"There are some who thrive on such squabbling," she admitted to the man. "I find that it wearies me and nothing more."

"Is the business concluded?" Bou-raiy asked.

"Abbot Braumin Herde is appointed this day bishop of Palmaris," she answered. "The formal declaration will be made at eventide."

"Yet King Danube is out in the fields with Duke Kalas, by all accounts," Bou-raiy said doubtfully, for the Duke's hatred of the Church was well known to all.

"And with his brother, Midalis," said Jilseponie. "The discussion of the matter has ended, and Kalas knows it. The appointment is secured, as I promised."

"You are a fine ally," Bou-raiy said with a grin.

"I am an ally of the people of Honce-the-Bear, first and foremost," Jilseponie reminded him, and reminding herself that she needed always to keep this one in his place. She had found that she did not hate Bou-raiy, but neither was she a supporter of his somewhat intolerant view of the world. In many ways, Bou-raiy reminded her of Father Abbot Markwart - or of who Markwart might have been had he known in advance the disaster wrought by his own errors. While Markwart might then have avoided some of those errors, would his heart have been any purer? Truly?

"And, as the Abellican Order shares that hope, you are thus an ally to the Church," said Bou-raiy.

Jilseponie nodded, too weary to delve into that loaded supposition at that time.

"And so I beg of you one more favor or, rather, call it an exchange of favors between two who fight on the same side," Fio Bou-raiy said with a sly smile that put Jilseponie on her guard.

"You bring surprises with you this day, Master Bou-raiy. If we were to discuss further business between us, then should you not have brought Bishop Braumin with you, as well as Abbot Ohwan?"

"They are well aware of my intentions, and supportive in every way," the master answered, seeming very much at ease - and that only made Queen Jilseponie even less at ease.

"I have a proposition for you," Bou-raiy explained, "an exchange of favors to the benefit of both. For my part, I will give to you and to Bishop Braumin that which you most desire: my support concerning Avelyn Desbris. Hold no doubt that I can speed the process, perhaps completing Avelyn's formal beatification and canonization by the end of next year."

Jilseponie narrowed her gaze suspiciously. She knew that Bou-raiy would go along with the process, if for no other reason than to continue to hold favor with so many of the younger, influential masters of the Abellican Church. His open agreement so early in the process was not so much of a surprise, then, but what worried her was that Bou-raiy was trying to heighten the significance of his going along with the inevitable flow.

"You offer to do that which is correct in the eyes of nearly everyone who remembers the time of the plague," she responded, trying to keep her tone from revealing her suspicions, even annoyance. "None who survived the plague due to their pilgrimage to the Barbacan, nor any who saw a loved one miraculously healed by the covenant doubt Avelyn's ascension to sainthood."

"But the process has revealed some disturbing aspects of young Avelyn's behavior," Bou-raiy candidly answered. "There is the matter of his flight from St.-Mere-Abelle."

"His escape, you mean, from unlawful execution," Jilseponie was quick to respond.

Fio Bou-raiy nodded, his expression showing that, while not conceding the point, he obviously didn't want to debate it at length at that time. During Avelyn's escape from the abbey, a prominent master, Siherton, had been killed, and even Avelyn's most ardent supporters could not deny that Avelyn was, in part at least, responsible for that death.

"There is the matter of his excessive drinking, which you yourself testified to," said Bou-raiy. "There is even the question of Avelyn's - how may I put this delicately? - reputed intimacy, outside the guidelines of the Church, with . . ."

"With me," Jilseponie finished for him evenly, her expression reflecting the sourness that then washed over her heart. "Yes, Master Bou-raiy, we were intimate," she admitted, and the sharp-featured man lifted an eyebrow. "But not in any sexual manner. We were intimate in our joining through the soul stone, at healing, and when Avelyn instructed me in the use of the sacred gemstones."

"And that, too - " Bou-raiy began to protest.

"Was necessary and for the good of the world," Jilseponie flatly finished for him. "If you came here intending to formulate some beneficial partnership, then you choose a winding road in getting there," she went on, a hint of her anger slipping through. "If you choose to make of me an enemy, then you are a fool indeed."

Her blunt words set Bou-raiy back on his heels. He brought his hand up before him, fingertips touching his lips in a pensive pose, and he took a deep breath, as if trying to retract the last few moments of the wayward conversation.

"I merely try to show that the process remains a difficult one," he said apologetically - an unusual tone from Master Fio Bou-raiy. "And that my support could smooth - "

"And it is support that your own heart should demand of you, if you are as genuine as you claim."

The man chuckled helplessly at Jilseponie's blunt remark. "And I shall, and I shall go beyond simple compliance and become an active advocate for Saint Avelyn," Bou-raiy went on. "Because that is, of course, the correct path to take. But I ask of you that you, too, walk that correct path. I have come not to ask of you, but to offer to you, and to ask only that you consider that which is best for the world before you make your decision."

Jilseponie bit back her obvious negative responses and let the surprising man continue.

"I wish to offer you an appointment to complement your current position," Bou-raiy explained. "And I tell you honestly that Bishop Braumin agrees with my proposal with all his heart. I, and he, believe that you might better serve the kingdom, the Church, and the people if you take a complementary title to that which comes with that crown you now wear upon your head. Thus, we ask that you consider an appointment as sovereign sister of St. Honce, a position akin to my own as master and one that will require few formal duties on your part but which will send notice to the people that the Church and the State are not at odds."

And one that will infuriate my husband's closest friends,Jilseponie thought. She could only imagine the look upon the face of Duke Kalas should she accept the position of sovereign sister of St. Honce!

Jilseponie's thinking quickly shifted, though, going more to the notion of the man delivering the surprising proposition than any possible reactions should she accept. Why in the world would Fio Bou-raiy come to her with such an offer? What gain might he find in it, for surely he would not be delivering this proposition if there was nothing in it specifically to his benefit?

"You would find few duties, and none at all that would not be voluntary," Bou-raiy went on. "You would thus be invited to the undoubtedly soon-to-be-convened College of Abbots, and I am certain that King Danube would be agreeable to that prospect!"

Perhaps, Jilseponie thought, but, in truth, there were too many possibilities flittering about her thoughts for her even to begin to sort them out at that time.

"What says Abbot Ohwan?" the woman asked; and for the first time, Bou- raiy showed a crack in his seemingly limitless optimism. That spoke volumes to Jilseponie, confirming what she already knew - that Ohwan was not fond of her. She had seen the abbot speaking in hushed tones with Constance Pemblebury many times, though she could only guess at the purposes of such private meetings.

"This decision goes far above anything in which Abbot Ohwan might hold a voice," Bou-raiy remarked. "We do not offer such a position to the Queen of Honce-the-Bear lightly. I have spoken at length with Father Abbot Agronguerre, with Bishop Braumin, and with Masters Machuso and Glendenhook, the senior masters at St.-Mere-Abelle. We do not offer this lightly, Queen Jilseponie. As we find the position of bishop to be of mutual benefit to Church, to State, to the kingdom, so we feel that this second joining of power will benefit all."

It was something to think about, she realized, something not to be dismissed out of hand.

Fio Bou-raiy left Jilseponie that day with a lot to consider.

"Then it is true?" Lady Dasslerond asked, her tone flat, betraying no emotions, positive or negative, to the monumental news.

Bradwarden considered the lady of Caer'alfar carefully, trying to find some hint of her feelings on the matter. The centaur respected Dasslerond; and he feared her perhaps as much as he feared any creature in all the world, despite the fact that the diminutive elf hardly reached to his withers. For Lady Dasslerond could be a beneficent and valuable friend, but she could also be the most deadly of enemies. It was no secret to the observant Bradwarden that Dasslerond had never been fond of Jilseponie and that the lady had been outraged to learn that Elbryan had taught Jilseponie one of the Touel'alfar's most guarded and secret treasures: bi'nelle dasada.

And now that same woman, who knew the secret elven sword dance that was the only battle advantage the delicate Touel'alfar held over the larger and stronger humans, was the queen of the foremost human kingdom. Truly the centaur could understand the turmoil that must be roiling inside the lady of Caer'alfar!

"She's as true of heart as Elbryan," the centaur answered, "as Mather, as any that ye trained yerself, lady. Ye fear her, and I'm known' why, but I'm tellin' ye true that ye're fearin' wrong, for there's none better o' heart in all the world than me Pony."

"Then it is true," said Dasslerond. "The woman reigns as queen."

"She does," Bradwarden answered, and a cloud passed over Lady Dasslerond's face.

She was envisioning, the centaur guessed, a procession of Allheart knights, all in splendid armor, but with fine blades instead of heavy ones, descending upon Andur'Blough Inninness. But why? Bradwarden had to wonder. To his understanding, Pony would have no reason at all to hold anything but honest love for the Touel'alfar.

Of course, the centaur could not know of Dasslerond's dark secret - of Aydrian, the dangerous, wayward son of Jilseponie.

"It truly was received better than I would have expected," King Danube said with a helpless chuckle, as Duke Kalas stormed out of the room almost immediately after hearing Jilseponie's recounting of Master Bou- raiy's proposition.

The Queen could only echo that helpless laugh and shake her head.

"Do you feel inclined to hold such a voice in the Church?" her husband asked her, his tone showing sincere interest in her response.

Jilseponie looked at him with appreciation. He could dismiss this out of hand, if he so chose, could have issued a decree denying any such possibility for Jilseponie or any other member of the royal family to become so formally tied to the Abellican Church.

"I do not wonder why the Church would desire your voice," Danube went on. "Did we not fight such a battle for the voice of Jilseponie in Palmaris?"

"One that was resolved by sharing," she reminded him, and King Danube chuckled again.

"Such great changes in the basic fabric of institution!" he exclaimed. "A bishop in Palmaris and now a queen in St. Honce, and formally so!

"But what frightens me, and what I do not understand, is what Master Bou-raiy wants," he continued honestly. "I believe that I have come to know this man well enough to understand that there must be, in his view, something more to the appointment than the gain of goodwill between Church and State, something that even goes beyond any benefit to the people."

"You see the truth of him, I fear," said Jilseponie. She thought that she should go to Braumin about this matter, and intended to do exactly that, but then the truth hit her, as it had her friend when Fio Bou-raiy had laid out this very plan to him those months before.

"He said that I could have a voice at the College of Abbots," she remarked.

"What College?" Danube asked. "Have they convened another?"

"Not yet, but soon, if the reports of Father Abbot Agronguerre's failing health are to be believed," she replied. "Therein lies the truth, I think. For at that College, a replacement will be sought, and Fio Bou- raiy will surely seek the position. With only one true opponent, I believe, and one that he knows does not have the favor of King Danube."

"Abbot Olin of Entel," King Danube finished, catching on. "He expects that your voice, by default, will speak in support of him."

The two sat there quietly for a while, digesting the situation.

"And will my voice speak for Master Fio Bou-raiy at the College of Abbots?" Jilseponie asked at length. "And should it not?"

She and Danube sat again in silence for some time, each wondering if entering such an agreement with the Church might not be a worthwhile endeavor.

Indeed, before Master Fio Bou-raiy, Bishop Braumin, and all the rest from Palmaris, St.-Mere-Abelle, and Vanguard sailed north as summer turned to fall, Jilseponie Wyndon Ursal wore two mantles, that of queen and that of sovereign sister of St. Honce.

Not everyone in Ursal - at the court or in the abbey - was pleased by that.

"Roger Billingsbury," To'el Dallia said to Lady Dasslerond as the pair watched from the shadows of the trees outside Chasewind Manor in Pal-mans the return of Roger and Dainsey. "He is a friend to Jilseponie, most of all."

Lady Dasslerond nodded at To'el's poignant words, a clear reminder to her to consider well the bond that these humans might form between each other in their hearts. What else might explain the obvious and egregious lack of discretion on the part of Elbryan - whom Dasslerond had considered among the finest of rangers and, thus, among the very finest of all humans - in teaching Jilseponie bi'nelle dasada?

Lady Dasslerond had already set in place the network of spies that would keep an eye on the new Queen, but she feared that she might need more than eyes where Jilseponie was concerned. In that case, she would have to find a way to use and manipulate the bond between Roger and the woman.

It seemed daunting, but to Dasslerond's thinking, these were just humans, after all.