The evening of revelry in the palace had quickly turned somber with Zaria's unannounced presence. It quickly morphed into a chaotic opportunity to capitalize on this new development, where Zaria's favorable mantle of influence had unquestionably come back to the fore. She knew full well she would have to assume the charade of her magical impact on the kingdom once more however long, both for her survival, and to try and uncover he truth of where Tsudros and Svetlana might be.

It seemed the room was dominated by two major factions, as it once had been with three, during the insurrection which had given Zaria and Tsudros the opportunity to escape the summer before. And there was a false atmosphere of camaraderie among these brutal men. For as Zaria had learned to know such primitives, there was in reality a huge seething of egos, capable of exploding into murderous violence at any moment. Tanzu Han seemed aware of its potential, too, as he watched the impromptu proceedings with a keen eye for deceit and treachery.

One of the bolder contenders for power stepped into the center of the room next to her. He was middle-aged, with long, graying hair but appeared strong, virile and with a demeaner of underhanded power about him. He held Zaria's arm and turned to speak to the crowd of men.

"Many of us know this jewel of magic," he said, "who has chosen to suddenly appear to us again." He turned her semi-nakedness around, displaying her designs and youthful beauty as if she were precious icon. "For it was she who brought to an end a terrible curse. The plague of disease and death which Sharvur had released upon us. Two winters ago. How many of you lost people in your clan to that evil?"

A good number of the mesmerized listeners raised their fists in response.

"We can only see her back here today . . . as a sign," he shouted out convincingly. "To bring our people together again. To end this chaos!"

Dramatically, another warrior swaggered into the center of the hall, equally confidant. His muscular arms glistened, and his tanned, handsome face painted a youthful countenance of kingship.

"So, my comrades, it is really down to Mesru here . . . and myself." The young contender shouted this out with surprising maturity to his voice.

The others in the hall remained quiet, poised for some revelation which they had for so long wanted to hear. The musicians and naked girls had by now disappeared into the recesses of the palace. The torches still burned brightly.

"For months, we have failed to provide a new king out of our stubbornness," he continued. "With Sharvur's dethroning . . . and the recent murder of our wise counselor, Krido, we have floundered . . . behaved stupidly in the eyes of our people."

Zaria's eyes quickly flashed over to Tanzu Han, still standing near the wall and stoically taking in what he was hearing and seeing of the spectacle.

"Perhaps it is time for me, Lorant, as I stand before you . . . to make an offer of reconciliation. A proposal to unite with my . . . older and worthy brother in arms here. An bid to agree that we can rule the kingdom . . . together."

The men were all silent. Anticipating more. Some confirmation of this long-awaited end to the impasse—a pledge of both parties to finally unite for the good of their people.

The young man turned now, theatrically to his opponent, standing near Zaria.

"What say you, Mesru? Our people of the plains have been too long now without the leadership they . . . and we need. We must bury this rivalry between us. And those in this hall who are loyal to us."

A stirring of whispers and quiet comments circulated about the chamber.

"We are all Pazyryk," he continued. "Let us come together. Here, with the aid of our former princess. For she might bring back the light of goodness and healing among us again."

Zaria was silent, her knees felt weak. She could see both the advantages and the possible curse which was rapidly developing there in the all-familiar palace.

The older warrior, Mesru, was pensive in the eyes of the crowd. It seemed in his silence he was carefully considering the proposal. A move to end the blight of paralysis which had kept the Pazyryk kingdom frozen and anemic since the recent and second removal of Sharvur's reign.

The men all waited impatiently, until Mesru looked out at them searchingly, anticipating a response to Lorant's proposal. He then reached both hands out and open to crowd for their positive consensus.

Gradually, the men began to vocalize their approval of the plan. As he continued to lift his palms up into the air, the room began to roar with the sound of affirmation and enthusiasm. Smiling, he dramatically took Zaria by the hand and brought her over to his rival, Lorant. The young man received the gesture, as everyone else did in the room, as a signal of unity.

To the wild cheering of the resolved men, Lorant put his hand, as well, on Zaria's shoulder. She stood helpless between the two confirmed leaders, her semi-nakedness and ornate presence emblematic of a new order the kingdom would now embrace.

It was a defining moment in the flickering light of the citadel, which Zaria had little control of. Yet, in her seasoned awareness, she was confident that her own designs would come later, when the intensity and emotion of the moment subsided. For now, she only waited to be given back her former powers and influences of a princess—all to be wielded once again, within and without the fluid confines of the stone palace

* * *