ia and Nadia of the ice
fields. Nadia alone of the many disunited nations of Tarth had
strength in some ways comparable to that of black forested Abaria, but
even then, if a war came between the two nations, the issue would
never seriously be in doubt.

As a matter of diplomacy, Retoc had been invited to the funeral of
Prince Jlomec, although neither Bontarc, ruler of Nadia, nor his
sister, Volna the Beautiful, had ever dreamed he would come.

While the crowd milled about in their white mourning garments, Retoc
told the seneschal: "I wish an audience with the Princess Volna."

The crowd was suddenly quiet. Volna the Beautiful, haughty, imperious,
princess of the royal blood, would certainly refuse to see the Abarian
ruler. Nevertheless, the seneschal bowed low, said, "Your request will
be carried to the staff of the royal household, lord," and disappeared
behind a hanging.

* * * * *

Some time later, in another part of the palace, Bontarc was saying:
"Volna, Volna, listen to me. You can't see that man now."

"I'm going to see him," Volna the Beautiful told her brother. "So it
may not be said that a princess of the royal blood hid in fear behind
a wall of tragedy."

"But sister! With dear Prince Jlomec still not on the burning barge
which will carry him down the River of Ice on the final journey from
which--"

"Please, brother," Volna said a little coldly. "I'm going to grant
Retoc his audience. Don't you understand? He thinks me weakened by
Jlomec's death. Oh, I loved the Prince, yes. He was always so--so
quiet and aloof from affairs of state. But I can be strong if strong I
have to be."

"Then you won't change your mind?" Bontarc asked. He was a fighting
man by nature. The devious paths of diplomacy he set foot on only with
reluctance.

For answer Volna said: "Let me prepare to greet the royal visitor."
And she watched Bontarc leave her quarters.

At once she clapped her hands. Six serving maids skipped through the
hangings into her huge bower and while they clustered jabbering about
her like so many excited birds, she undid the fastening at her left
shoulder and allowed her gown of mourning white to fall in a crumpled
heap at her feet. She stood naked and perfectly still while the
serving maids administered to her, each girl a master in one of the
cosmetic arts. And Volna, she of the haughty face and glorious body,
she who already had been beautiful to look upon, was soon