What happened next sent shivers down Blackthorn's spine. He had heard the Judge snicker before, even chuckle, but never had Blackthorn seen him throw back his head and cackle as he did now. "The Council!" he cried, briefly drawing the attention of others. "The Council!" he said, more softly. Tears ran from his eyes and he had to wipe them before he could speak. "They can sit and write laws all day, but the Virtues help them should they actually need to enforce them. I would go up against the Great Council on any given day, but then, I believe thou didst know that when thou didst seek my aid, no?"

Blackthorn said nothing, merely swirled the contents of his goblet.

"I thought as much," Dryden said with a thick, hideous grin. "Thou didst always strive to be a warrior, a fighter, and thou hast succeeded admirably, but in here—" He thumped his heart—"in here, thou art, and always will be, a politician, my friend. After all, 'tis thee who now has the privilege to sit at British's side, should he so chose. Again, I ask thee to reconsider this idea of galloping across the countryside for the next year. Why wait a year when Lord British can invoke thy Regency now? An opportunity wasted is not an opportunity at all."

Blackthorn solemnly shook his head. "I cannot stay here. The Black Company rides for Trinsic within the week, and I shall be with them. I must first ensure that the Black Company can perform abroad before I feel comfortable commanding them from afar. As thou hast said, they are an unruly bunch."

"Then perhaps thou shalt take thy place as Regent when thou dost return," Dryden grinned.

"Perhaps."

Dryden thumped his chest again. "Thy heart will ensure it." He quickly grabbed a second goblet from a passing tray, and clinked it against Blackthorn's. "Thy father would have been proud, Blackthorn."

"Yes," Blackthorn whispered, stealing a glance at Shaana, who was now pitting her arm against one of the Black Company. "Yes, so I have heard." He finished his drink with a single gulp, then excused himself from the Judge, who continued to chuckle.

Well after nightfall the festivities waged, and did so without signs of slowing, even when the royal scribe, Remoh, decided to cease recording the events in favor of sleeping in a puddle of ale. The Black Company diced and drank with a reluctant Captain Geoffrey and an eager Royal Guard, especially Shaana, who had finished her evening of dancing with Blackthorn. Judge Dryden milled among the members of the Great Council and the justices, none of whom Blackthorn wished to engage in conversation, and most of the other nobility had left for the night. Lord British still remained, however, deftly drinking at the head of the great table, surrounded by old friends beyond age, the Companions of the Avatar. Blackthorn had feasted with them earlier, acknowledged their half-hearted toasts to him and the Black Company, well aware that their praises stemmed more from the insistence of British than from their hearts. Now they talked amongst themselves, and Blackthorn caught edges of the conversation, and it was another topic he did not like: The Underworld.

Within the next few days, Blackthorn, British, and the Great Council would listen to seven wizards deliver their accounts about their separate journeys into the world beneath this one, an unearthly realm created when British and the Great Council ripped the Codex of Ultimate Wisdom from the Great Stygian Abyss. Blackthorn did not expect any good news from a place born of such violence, especially now that the eighth wizard, Sutek, was missing. Like the knight, Nosfentre, he, too, had been expected to dock with the Ararat. Such tidings did not bode well. "The comets are alight this night," Blackthorn whispered to himself, his father's favorite adage.