Aided by Aydrian's use of the gemstones, their journey had been swift, even against the cold winds of winter. Despite that, the returning soldiers and the king who led them were all relieved to see again the walls of Palmaris that cold and wintry day near the end of the second month of God's Year 847.
Riding before the column, the first thing Aydrian noticed was that the wall was manned by Ursal soldiers, his loyal Kingsmen. "Marcalo has held Palmaris strong, it would seem," the young king remarked to Sadye, who rode at his side.
"Could we have expected any less of him?" Sadye asked.
Aydrian slowed his mount and turned a suspicious glance at her.
"What?" Sadye prompted.
"You still love him."
Sadye looked back to Palmaris and gave a halfhearted shrug. "My respect for him has not diminished - should it have?"
Now it was Aydrian's turn to look ahead to the city and shrug.
"You've placed Marcalo in a position of great importance to the security and expansion of your kingdom," the woman went on. "Why?"
When Aydrian didn't immediately answer, she did it for him. "Because you know of his value. You even got Abbot Olin out of the way, because you understand that having Marcalo De'Unnero as the Father Abbot of the Abellican Church will ensure the security of the throne. He is no less ambitious than you - it is just that his ambitions are now more tightly focused."
"You still love him."
"If I do, it is because I still respect him and his ambitions. And so do you."
That last statement brought their gazes back together. "We have no room for jealousy here," Sadye said quietly to him. "Not from you, and not from Marcalo. Though, of course, you will hold so many of his desires as a great sword over his head that he will have no choice but to hide away any jealousy he might hold."
"If he has known Sadye as I have, he would have no greater desire than to hold her," Aydrian said, lowering his gaze to the road ahead.
Sadye's burst of laughter spun him about immediately.
"The words of a boy," the bard explained, and she continued to chuckle.
"Tell me, Aydrian Boudabras, who will rule all the world: would you give it all up? Would you forsake your plans and abdicate your kingdom if I asked it of you? I could promise you in exchange all the love you desire and more."
Aydrian just continued to stare at her, not sure how to react.
"Would you?" the woman demanded.
Again, when Aydrian didn't respond, Sadye answered for him. "Of course you would not! There are different layers of desires. So many men become trapped in their immediate needs that they cannot look ahead to a greater future road. Neither you nor Marcalo De'Unnero is among that shortsighted breed. Yes, there will be anger between you two when Marcalo learns that I have moved from his side to yours, but that tension will not threaten the greater goals you both seek. At least, I hope it will not."
Aydrian said nothing, but picked up the pace again, leading his force to the city's western gate, bringing them under the comforting and distracting sound of the cheers of their comrades.
He was not the first of his people to walk among the To-gai-ru, but Lozan Duk felt the many stares upon him as he was escorted across the city of Dharyan-Dharielle to the palace of the Dragon of To-gai.
He walked into the grand structure, along hallways tastefully decorated, but not overdone with fineries, as was the reputed way of most human rulers. Tapestries lined the corridors, with statues and pedestals set before them. Golden bowls placed upon those pedestals were filled with the most precious commodity of this arid region, water, and from the splash marks and footprints, Lozan Duk could tell that visitors were welcomed to move up and refresh themselves. On both sides a long window, filled with multicolored glass, lined the top of the corridor's walls, and sun rays streaming through splashed the light tiles of the floor with rose and blues and greens.
At the end of one long hall and through great double doors, Lozan Duk looked again on the strange woman who had accompanied the Tylwyn Tou traveler through Tymwyvenne years before. It struck him how greatly Brynn Dharielle had grown in those few years. Physically, she seemed much the same petite and beautiful young woman he had known, but in her light brown eyes, Lozan Duk now saw the depth of wisdom and a simmer of determination where before he had seen only the sparkle of youthful innocence. He was glad to see that she was not prettily dressed, obscuring her natural grace and beauty beneath outrageous headdresses or voluminous and gaudy robes, as was the case with much of the human hierarchy.
Her smile, one of inviting warmth, would have seemed far less so under the weight of such a disguise.
"Greetings, Brynn Dharielle," the elf said in his native tongue, one that was not far removed from the language Brynn had learned in her years with the Touel'alfar.
"It is good that you have come," Brynn replied, the flow of her words a bit more stilted. "My heart is gladdened to see the face of an old friend."
Lozan Duk waited a moment while Brynn turned to the middle-aged man standing beside her throne and whispered to him, apparently translating.
"I had thought your kingdom secured," the elf said when she turned back to him. "Surprised I am to find an army sitting outside your walls."
"It is a long and complicated story," Brynn replied. "One that may concern you, or may not, depending on why you have journeyed so far."
"To bring you tidings of the lands north of the mountains," the elf explained. "Much has happened."
Brynn translated quickly to Pagonel, then sat quiet and bade Lozan Duk to continue.
"Your friend Aydrian has assumed the throne of the northern kingdom,"
Lozan Duk told her.
"That is already known to me. He reaches his arms out to our neighboring kingdom of Behren, as well, coming openly as a friend, but in reality, I fear, as a conqueror."
"Know that your fears are justified," the elf explained. "Aydrian marched his army west to the land of the Tylwyn Tou."
Brynn's eyes widened and she gasped.
"He defeated Lady Dasslerond herself; and in her death, she has sealed away her valley from all, even her own people. It was Belli'mar Juraviel who sent me to you to warn you of Aydrian's imperialistic bent. Know beyond doubt, Brynn Dharielle, that your friend of old is now no friend to either Tylwyn Doc or Tylwyn Tou."
"Then your people stand beside your cousins?" Brynn asked after translating the news to Pagonel.
"We are one people again, under the leadership of both King Eltiraaz and Belli'mar Juraviel." He held forth his hand, palm up and showing a large blue sapphire. "The gemstone of my people, sister stone to the emerald that held within it the heart of Andur'Blough Inninness. King Eltiraaz and Lady Dasslerond united the stones once more, as they united our peoples. With this gem, Belli'mar Juraviel, who now wields the emerald, and I can find each other from across the known world."
Brynn, somehow not overly surprised, accepted the words without question and turned to explain them to Pagonel, who did indeed seem more than a little curious and impressed.
"The Tylwyn people are on the run," Lozan Duk told them, changing the subject as he stowed away his precious stone. "We are in hiding from Aydrian's hunters, and while I was sent south to find you, Belli'mar Juraviel has gone north and east in search of Jilseponie, Aydrian's mother. Many have been set about as scouts, for it is our hope that we will serve as the communication between those who must oppose King Aydrian."
"But how long has passed since the fall of Lady Dasslerond?" Brynn asked.
"Even if you and your cousins were to stretch your line from Dharyan- Dharielle all the way to the far north, the news will not travel quickly."
"Lady Dasslerond fell just over two weeks ago," Lozan Duk explained.
"Then how..."
"The emerald Belli'mar Juraviel holds facilitates his travel - and my own! I was on the southern edge of the Path of Starless Night when he found me from my call, only two days ago. I had come south to meet this dragon, Agradeleous; but alas, the great wurm was not in his lair."
"He is here."
That brought a smile to the pale face of the Doc'alfar. "Belli'mar Juraviel told me of the dire news in the north, and of the danger that is Aydrian, and bade me come here to find you and tell you that we will not forsake you and your people at this dark hour."
"Two days ago?" Brynn asked. "The Path of Starless Night is a week's march."
"Belli'mar Juraviel took me with him through use of his magical gemstone," Lozan Duk explained. "I would have arrived before dusk yesterday, but Belli'mar Juraviel put me down outside your city, neither of us knowing that an army had encircled the place. It took me all the night to weave my way through the human soldiers."
Brynn translated it all to Pagonel, then sat back to digest the information. "It would seem that all of my worst fears of Aydrian are true," she said to Pagonel.
"Abbot Olin seems more the emissary and less the rogue, then," the mystic replied. He put a hand up to stroke Brynn's black hair, prompting her to look directly at him.
"There is a great sadness in you," Pagonel remarked.
"You did not know Andur'Blough Inninness," Brynn explained, "and thus you cannot understand the significance of its passing. And you did not know Lady Dasslerond. In truth, she was more of a mother..."
Brynn's voice broke apart, and she sucked in a deep breath and shook her head. She tried to steady herself, knowing that she had to be strong, that she would likely face some serious challenges even beyond the army that now laid siege to her city. But even as she tried to steel herself, Lozan Duk's words began to sink in even deeper. Images of her youthful days beside Dasslerond and the elves came flooding back to her, and she had to bring one hand to her face to find enough focus so that she did not begin sobbing openly.
Finally, she caught enough of her breath to instruct her guards to show Lozan Duk to a comfortable room, then to explain to the Doc'alfar that she would call on him shortly.
"You wish to be alone?" Pagonel asked her quietly as the elf departed.
Brynn started to answer that she did, but she thought it over and realized otherwise. "Come with me," she bade her dearest and most trusted friend and advisor. "Hold me when I need you to, and listen to my tales of Lady Dasslerond and Andur'Blough Inninness."
Pagonel nodded and moved around the arm of the chair, taking Brynn's hand and helping her to her feet.
Before they had even reached her private rooms, the Dragon of To-gai had already begun an animated telling of some of her fondest memories of her years among the elves.
They plodded through the deep snow uncomplaining, with Bradwarden leading the way and piping his songs, and Pony and Symphony following close behind.
Far ahead, Belli'mar Juraviel ran atop the snow with hardly an effort, and every so often he stopped and called back to them, correcting their course. He had already used his emerald to locate Prince Midalis and his entourage, and had meant to take Pony and the centaur to the prince through the same magical means. But to the relief of them all, Juraviel had found that Midalis was not so far away - less than a day's march.
Pony's delight at seeing her old friend was only heightened when she at last entered the small cottage he was using as his temporary quarters to find another old and dear friend standing beside him.
"All the grim tidings diminish against the splendor of your arrival, dear Jilseponie," Prince Midalis said, and he sprang from his chair and swept around the desk, wrapping Pony in the tightest of hugs.
"You've heard of my son, then, and his march across the kingdom that should be your own," Pony replied.
Prince Midalis pulled back from her and turned to the grinning man standing at the side of the room. "Good Captain Al'u'met took upon himself and his crew great risks to sail across the Gulf of Corona even as winter was settling in. A gale could have swamped them, but they pressed on anyway, in the knowledge that it was critical to deliver the tidings from Abbot Braumin of St. Precious."
"Though I fear that good Braumin is no longer in that position," Al'u'met put in. "The army of Aydrian approached Palmaris even as I sailed, and we have reason to believe that the city was overrun in short order."
Pony nodded.
"Because the fleet of Ursal - a portion of it, at least - has sailed past the city and into the gulf," Prince Midalis added. "A flight ship from Pireth Dancard arrived only three weeks ago, after having been pursued nearly halfway across the northern stretches of the gulf. Had not a storm arisen, she would have been caught by the pursuing warships - warships flying a pennant that showed both the bear rampant and the tiger rampant.
Apparently, this perversion is the flag of Aydrian Boudabras."
"Boudabras," Pony whispered, the first time she had heard that name.
"An elvish word," Bradwarden explained. "The word of a great storm, maelstrom."
"How fitting," Prince Midalis said dryly.
"We will have a difficult time of discerning exactly how much of the land, and sea, Aydrian has secured," Pony reasoned. She looked all about, settling on a view outside the window, where the snow had begun to fall once more. "I know not this town. How far from Vanguard are we?"
"A week's march," Midalis explained. "The ground is defensible here, and here, we are already well on our way to Palmaris."
"You expect to begin your counterattack there?"
"It seems the logical choice."
"Logical and obvious, to young Aydrian as well, not for doubting,"
Bradwarden interjected.
"I do not have a fleet that can match that of Ursal," Prince Midalis retorted, and the desperation and frustration was clear in his voice.
"The land route to my throne goes through Palmaris, and so through Palmaris I must go."
The centaur gave a polite bow.
Pony glanced at the other three in the room in turn, settling on Bradwarden for a bit, silently asking him for agreement, and when he nodded his understanding, she turned directly to Midalis. "We found you with help from another friend," she explained. "A powerful ally to our cause. You know of the TouePalfar?"
The prince's expression grew curious indeed, his gray eyes, telltale as a mark of the line of Ursal, widening considerably.
"They will scout the lands for us," Pony explained. "They have ways to determine the movements of all. With the help of the elves, we will discover the vulnerable areas in Aydrian's line, perhaps."
"Even if this is true - and it is welcome news indeed! - our options remain limited," Prince Midalis answered. "If we are to take the war to Aydrian, then we must march south, and it will be of no small consequence to pass by Palmaris. Over the weeks, my scouts and commanders have given me much insight, and I have found but three choices, and three hopes. The first is that Aydrian will choose to divide the kingdom, with him taking the region south and west of the gulf, and leaving Vanguard alone."
"It's not what we're seein' from him," the centaur remarked.
"The second is that he will choose to attack Vanguard, either by land or by sea," Midalis went on. "In either case, he will find the fighting difficult, for I, too, have discovered an ally. I have set my army west of Vanguard, defending against any land invasion, though I do not expect one in the throes of winter. The city of Vanguard is well defended, as well, and we could return there quickly, if needed. But again, it would be of great fortune to us should Aydrian decide to sail the gulf in this season. Likely, more than half his forces would be taken to the bottom."
"He'll not come north until St.-Mere-Abelle is conquered, I would guess, and that will be no easy task," Pony agreed.
"And just north of Vanguard city, and to the east, my ally has encamped, and they will defend my land as fiercely as my own subjects."
"Andacanavar has come to your aid," Pony reasoned.
"And Bruinhelde," Midalis explained. "I do not expect that they will march with me when I go south to dislodge King Aydrian, but if he brings the battle to Vanguard, he will find my army strengthened by my loyal neighbors from the north."
"And what're ye to do if word comes from Aydrian that he's givin' ye yer kingdom north o' the gulf, and that he's takin' all the rest?" Bradwarden asked.
The prince squared his shoulders, seeming every bit the man, the king, that his brother had been before him. "Honce-the-Bear is my kingdom, not Vanguard," he said. "I deny Aydrian's claim, and will fight him to my death or his own." As he finished, he looked at Pony and winced, perhaps only then realizing to whom he was speaking.
But then Pony dismissed that tentative look by saying, "And I will fight beside you, to the bitter end."
"Let us plan our first moves, then," said Midalis.
"Belli'mar Juraviel of the Touel'alfar is already on the move," Pony informed him. "His scouts will scour the land in short order. We will have one advantage in this battle for your kingdom, that of information."
She turned to Al'u'met, a wry grin suddenly spreading on her fair face.
"Tell me of Pireth Dancard, good Captain. Take me to the sea and point out the direction."
"What're ye thinkin', lass?" Bradwarden asked.
Pony's response came through a wicked smile. "I'm thinking that we should find every loose thread that Aydrian shows around the edges of his blanketing army and tug them hard until the whole of it unravels."
Most of all, the city seemed secure. Soldiers marched along the streets in orderly fashion, and the walls were thick with sentries. Defensive fortifications were under construction at every point along the wall, including many new catapults and ballistae.
Aydrian could hardly contain his smile as he moved through the streets of tamed Palmaris, to the cheers of soldier and townsman alike.
"Marcalo has done a magnificent job in putting the city in line, it would seem," Sadye was happy to say at his side.
Aydrian didn't answer, but just kept looking around at the beehive of activity that was Palmaris. He and his charges made their way to the eastern end of the city, to the great square outside of St. Precious, where Aydrian's commanders put the soldiers in line, rank upon rank.
The doors to the great abbey creaked open and Marcalo De'Unnero came forth, flanked by a dozen Abellican monks. He walked up to stand right before the king, who dismounted.
"Welcome back to your city, King Aydrian," De'Unnero said when the cheering of the multitudes gathering about the square had at last ended.
"You will find Palmaris most accommodating, I assure you."
"Accommodating and secure," Aydrian replied.
"More so than ever before," the monk said with great pride and great conviction. "The garrison has spent the entirety of the season at work in preparing the defenses. Should our enemies choose to march south to this city, they will find the place a singular fortress designed to hold them back."
"Any word from Duke Kalas?" Aydrian asked.
"He has pushed across the breadth of the land, and last word had him fast approaching St. Gwendolyn," De'Unnero replied. "And his army has swelled to many times its size, with new recruits rushing in to join in the glory of King Aydrian."
Aydrian beamed and looked to Sadye, who verily glowed at the news. "And what of the Church?" he asked.
"When St. Gwendolyn falls, if it has not already, then there will remain but two opposing abbeys: St.-Mere-Abelle and St. Belfour of Vanguard,"
the monk replied. He wasn't looking at Aydrian as he spoke, however, but rather at Sadye, who continued to stare at her liege, offering a look that was not hard to read.
Aydrian hesitated a moment to take note of De'Unnero's shifting expression as the monk looked over the woman. "Duke Kalas will turn his march to St.-Mere-Abelle as soon as St. Gwendolyn is secured?" the young king asked, thinking it wise to distract the monk at that moment.
De'Unnero looked at him and blinked a few times, as if coming back to the situation at hand. "He will," the monk stammered. "Of course he will. As we determined."
De'Unnero's gaze went immediately back to the woman.
"Let us continue this in the warmth of your private quarters," Aydrian bade, and he turned to his commanders. "Dismiss the troops. Give them two days to rest and warm their bones, and then join in with the work already at hand here in Palmaris. I will not leave this city to be plucked from my grasp by the eager Midalis, but I expect to be on the road as soon as the weather begins its turn to spring. We will meet up with Duke Kalas in the southland, and then march together to the gates of St.-Mere-Abelle."
He turned back to De'Unnero as he again made pointed reference to that most coveted prize. "Father Abbot Bou-raiy will open those gates, or we will knock them down."
The two men sat together in a small room a short while later. Sadye had moved to join in, but Aydrian had dismissed her, telling her to go to Chasewind Manor and find some much-deserved rest. She had tried to argue, but only briefly, before Aydrian had fixed her with a glare that had told her there would be no debate on this matter.
So he sat alone with De'Unnero, and he felt the keen tension within the man, a mixture of eagerness and anger.
"I have begun training on nearly fourscore new monks," De'Unnero explained, pacing back and forth in front of the blazing hearth while Aydrian reclined in a comfortable chair. "This war will no doubt deplete the Abellican ranks by more than half, and I intend to fill those positions quickly and efficiently. And I assure you, all of my monks are being trained in the gem-stones from the start of their duties. I will have enough magical power ready to help counter the barrage we will no doubt face at the hands of the brothers of St.-Mere-Abelle."
"Well thought out," Aydrian replied. "As were your decisions to fortify the city. I plan to march with you to St.-Mere-Abelle; indeed, I plan to knock down those gates myself, if need be. But perhaps it will not come to that. Perhaps I can persuade Abbot Braumin to serve as an emissary, even if I have to take his body as my own."
The young king didn't miss the cloud that suddenly crossed De'Unnero's face.
"You've killed him," Aydrian reasoned.
"He escaped," De'Unnero corrected. "A friend rescued him, though at the cost of his own freedom."
"A friend?"
"Roger Lockless, companion of your mother," the monk explained. "I have thrown him in a deep dungeon. He is likely already dead, but if not, then he surely wishes that he was."
Aydrian shook his head and tried hard, but futilely, to hide his mounting anger.
"But it has proven a fair trade, I believe, for Roger Lockless was once the baron of Palmaris, and can be used as easily as was Abbot Braumin to keep the people of the city in proper order. And the man brought information with him of the whereabouts of our most dangerous enemy, the one you allowed to walk out of Ursal."
Aydrian smiled at the monk's unrelenting sarcasm concerning his mother.
"If my mother is our most dangerous enemy, then the kingdom is already mine, I would say."
"She moved north from the city before our arrival, to Dundalis, likely,"
De'Unnero explained. "But she is gone from there, I believe, and on the road to the east. She seeks Midalis."
"Then let her die in his arms."
"Take heed of her, for the people love her," De'Unnero warned. "And she is no minor force, trained in both the blade and the gemstones."
"And I have slain her trainer," Aydrian said.
"Elbryan was her trainer, and I claim that kill," the monk corrected.
"His trainer, then," Aydrian agreed.
"Ah, so you found your Lady Dasslerond and her people."
"The Touel'alfar will be of no consequence to my reign - those Touel'alfar who remain alive, that is."
De'Unnero stared at him for a long time, and Aydrian saw the sincere admiration on the man's face. "Still," the monk said, "we should not take Jilseponie and Midalis lightly."
"And I do not," Aydrian assured him. "It would seem that we have but one more obstacle in our path to claiming all of the southern kingdom, that of St.-Mere-Abelle. She will stand strong against us, I am certain, but at the least, we will damage and demoralize her, and hole her monks up tight behind their walls. When Midalis comes, if he is so foolish, then St.-Mere-Abelle will be of little help to him. Your Palmaris must only hold him back for the week it will take us to swing our army back here across the river and properly destroy the line of Ursal."
"Easily achieved with but a few thousand warriors," De'Unnero assured him. "Little magical power will accompany Midalis, other than that of your mother."
"And if Midalis does not come, then we will play the waiting game, finishing off St.-Mere-Abelle before turning our eyes to the region north of the gulf," Aydrian replied. "Perhaps we will have to wait until the spring of next year to begin that final march, but with all the southern kingdom secured, and Behren added to our hold, we will only grow stronger while Midalis hides among his tall trees. The ending, it would seem, is inevitable."
"We always knew that it would be," said De'Unnero.
Aydrian waited for the monk to stop pacing long enough to look at him directly. "You will soon enough become Father Abbot," he said.
"I already am," De'Unnero countered. "St.-Mere-Abelle is isolated, if Duke Kalas completed his march, and I cannot believe that he has not. No abbey of southern Honce-the-Bear is any longer aligned with the mother abbey and Fio Bou-raiy. He has lost before St.-Mere-Abelle even falls."
"Then I salute you, Father Abbot De'Unnero," Aydrian said. "Perhaps we should hold a formal ceremony announcing your ascent before we march upon St.-Mere-Abelle."
De'Unnero paused for a bit, then nodded.
"So tell me of your new Church," Aydrian prompted. "You will not endorse the final canonization of Saint Avelyn, I would guess."
"Of course not."
"And you will return the Abellican Order to its cloistered roots, where the sacred gemstones are held tight by the brethren alone and their magics are not so openly offered to the common peasants?"
"Of course, as you already know," De'Unnero said. "Indeed, in your absence, my brothers have collected many of the gemstones from the folk of Palmaris - reimbursing them, of course, as we discussed. The old order is already returning to the land, elevating the Church above the ordinary, as it once was. But you know all of this, so why do you ask?"
Aydrian stared at him long and hard, locking the monk's gaze with his own. "I sent Sadye to Chasewind Manor," he said bluntly. "There she will remain. With me."
De'Unnero narrowed his eyes, sucked in his breath, and stood very still, his hands clenched at his side.
"I offer her back to you," the young king said. "Wholly. But only if you are willing to forsake that other prize you so crave."
"Take care your words," De'Unnero warned.
Aydrian rose from his chair and calmly walked to the hearth, pointedly putting his back to the monk, showing De'Unnero that he did not fear him in the least. "I am quite beyond you now. You know this. You desired the Abellican Order, and I have delivered it to you." He turned about to face the monk. "To you alone. How convenient, was it not, that I sent Abbot Olin south to the land he most desired?"
"And in exchange, you take my wife?"
"I did not take anything that was not offered," Aydrian replied.
De'Unnero started forward, as if to attack, but stopped himself abruptly.
Aydrian did not even make a move to defend himself.
"Allow her to become queen of Honce-the-Bear," Aydrian said. "You know that she desires such. Of course, she does! And why should she not? I have my kingdom, I give to you yours. What life will Sadye know at your side? That of a secret consort, to be whispered about and gossiped over by every other brother of the Abellican Order, and by the peasants, as well. What life is that for the woman who has served us both so brilliantly?"
De'Unnero trembled as he stood there, hardly seeming mollified.
"But it is not your choice, after all," Aydrian went on. "Nor is it mine.
It is Sadye's to make, and so she has. Now I ask you to let her go without penalty. Fondly hold those times that you had side by side, my friend, but recognize the truth. Your position has outgrown her. You cannot lead the Church in its former image and glory if you openly hold a wife! "Be sensible, my friend! You are stepping into a most delicate situation.
Obviously so! You would so risk everything to hold Sadye at your side?"
"And if I would?" the monk spat.
"Then I would sooner make peace with Fio Bou-raiy than elevate such a fool to the position as leader of the Church of Honce-the-Bear," Aydrian bluntly replied. "This is no idle threat, Marcalo De'Unnero. You desire the Church, and I hope to give it to you. But if you will not hold fast your responsibility above all else, then I will not deliver St.-Mere- Abelle!" He drifted forward as he spoke, so that he and De'Unnero were face-to-face, barely an inch apart. "Choose wisely."
Aydrian clearly recognized the hatred that De'Unnero masked and the tension in the man's arms that revealed his desire to reach up and throttle Aydrian where he stood.
But Aydrian knew that the monk would not strike out at him, for Aydrian understood the truth of Marcalo De'Unnero's heart.
St.-Mere-Abelle would be his bride.