Malone and the Brigadier had learned that they were at war soon after crossing the border back into Helberion. The first villages they passed through were wild with gossip, with everyone wondering whether Carrow soldiers were about to come pouring into town, massacring everyone and setting fire to their homes. The Brigadier had gone straight to the guard house to get the full story, and had heard that a royal herald had ridden through the town the day before, blowing a trumpet to get everyone's attention and then issuing the proclamation in his loud, penetrating voice. All reserve soldiers, except those with parent bonded animals, were to report for duty at their local mustering stations, he'd said, on penalty of being declared deserters, a crime that carried the penalty of death.

     There were seven reserve infantrymen in town, milling around outside the police station while loved ones kissed them and bade them farewell. The Brigadier took charge of them and told them to follow him to Miller's Crossing, the local garrison town, which was on the direct route to the capital. The reservists made the two hour journey seem achingly familiar to Malone. It was almost like having their old company back, if he ignored their faded, ill fitting uniforms and the fact that they were on foot. It was easy to imagine that all his old friends were with him again. Blane and Harper and Crane and Quill. Only the absence of light hearted banter spoiled the illusion, except for one man who kept making idiotic jokes to hide the fear that he might be marching to his death.

     Arriving at the garrison town, the Brigadier reported in to the garrison commander and received a more detailed account of how matters stood. No military action had yet taken place, he was told. He had no idea why the King had chosen to declare war, but he was hoping that it was just a bluff to achieve a concession of some kind from the Carrowmen. “The King knows we cannot win a war against Carrow without help from the Empire,” he told the Brigadier. “The King is threatening Nilon with the Empire, wielding it like a sword. I can't imagine that it's anything else. Give it a day or two and we'll get word from Marboll that a peaceful solution's been found. I'd bet my pension on it.”

     "I am inclined to doubt that, though," he said to Malone later that day. "I know the King better than almost anyone else in the kingdom. He's not the kind to use the threat of war that way. He would have had to be truly desperate to do such a thing and his daughter's malady won't be helping his frame of mind. We must make all speed back to the palace."

     Arriving at the gates of Marboll, they made straight for the palace where the guards, recognising the Brigadier and knowing what his mission had been, let him through into the courtyard. Men came to take care of their horses and they were shown to the main body of the palace and into the reception room. A runner was sent to fetch the King, and Malone and the Brigadier were left to admire the expensive ornamental pottery and the paintings mounted on the walls while feeling a little uncomfortable about walking on the plush carpet with their dusty boots. Malone, feeling achy and tired, went to sit on one of the expensively padded and decorated chairs that stood around the room, but stopped when the footman who'd been left with them couldn't prevent himself from reacting with anxiety to his dirty, grimy uniform.

     “Maybe we should have gone to the barracks first,” he said. “Get cleaned up. Get a change of uniform.”

     “You go if you want,” replied the Brigadier. “Doesn’t take two of us to give a report.”

     “No way, Sir! When am I going to get another chance to meet the King? I just thought we should both have gotten cleaned up first, that's all.”

     “The King will want our report immediately. He's not the type to faint at the sight of a dirty face.”

      Malone nodded, but wondered how long it would be before he could rest his aching spine, unable to sit in case he got the furniture dirty. Riding a horse was tiring no matter how many years practice you'd had, especially when your backbone wasn't quite fully adapted to an upright posture. Fortunately the King arrived before five minutes had passed and Malone was surprised, no shocked, to see that he'd come almost at a run and was panting with the unaccustomed exercise.

     “Brigadier!” said the King, with a visible effort to retain his dignity. He gave Malone a momentary glance, then dismissed him from his attention. “Was your mission a success?”

     “We found Parcellius. He told us of a mushroom that grows in the area that might be able to help.” He reached into a pouch and produced a bag of crushed and wilted toadstools. “They apparently have a similar effect to a curse on anyone who eats them.”

     “We tried cursing her,” said the King in devastating disappointment. “It didn't work.”

     “These may work in a different way. It's worth trying, your Majesty.”

     “Yes, yes, of course. We must try it. Is there a... a recipe you have to follow, or do you just...”

     “I was led to believe that you just eat them, Sire.”

     “Then let's do it. If they work, how long do they take to work? Curses take effect instantly, I understand.”

     “As I said, Majesty, these may work differently. We won't know until we try.”

     “Indeed. Yes. Let's go then.” He went to the doorway, looked back to make sure they were following him, then strode off at his fastest walking pace to the Princess’ quarters.

     The King's suggestion that the mushrooms might work instantly disturbed the Brigadier, though. “Majesty, there is another matter we must discuss, and we must do so before we cure the Princess.”

     “What?” Leothan looked back, confused. “We cure the Princess first. Nothing is more important.”

     “With respect, Majesty, it has been nearly ten weeks since the Princess was afflicted. If I'm right, we need her in her present condition for one more day.”

     Leothan stopped and glared at him. “Explain yourself,” he commanded.

     Malone went pale as he glanced back and forth between the two men, and the Brigadier spared him a glance of sympathy before turning his full attention back to the King. “Your Majesty, during the course of our mission, we became aware that there may be a threat to the Kingdom. A grave threat.”

     “We are at war, Brigadier.  The threat is already upon us.”

     “There is another threat, Sire. Or there may not be. The Princess may be able to tell us, but only so long as she is in her present condition.”

     “We cure her first. You can tell me about other possible threats after.”

     “Majesty, I beg you! You must trust me on this. May we go to a place where we can talk in privacy?” He looked back at Darnell and the runners, ever ready to carry out the King’s will and spread the King’s commands.

     “The Princess...”

     “The Princess can wait a little longer. Sire, I would not ask this if I didn't believe it to be of the very greatest urgency.”

     The King stared at him, visivly torn in doubt, but then he nodded. “The committee rooms,” he said. He beckoned his Private Secretary forward. “Find a committee room that’s not in use. Seal off all surrounding rooms and corridors.” Darnell nodded and sent a runner to do it.

     Ten minutes later, they were in committee room six, one of the smaller ones that was almost filled by a table and four chairs. None of them were sitting, though, even though Malone gazed longingly as the bare wooden chairs. Leothan waited until the door was closed and the three men were alone before speaking. “Very well, Brigadier. What's this all about?”

     The Brigadier told him what they'd learned about the Radiants and the Hetin folk. “The Radiants destroyed a civilisation,” be concluded. “They destroyed the town of Tollbine, two thousand people, to hide that fact, then caused a volcano to erupt, killing more people, to destroy all evidence of this additional crime. They are willing to kill humans in vast numbers when it suits them to do so, and I suspect that our entire civilisation may be at risk. Not just Helberion, but all human civiisation.”

     “Why do you think that?” And what has this to do with my daughter?”

     “Sire, Parcellius is not the only archaeologist investigating the Hetin folk. There are scholars digging up ruins all over the world. Granted, not all sites are as well preserved as the one Parcellius found, but if all those archaeologists keep digging long enough, they're going to piece together the truth. The Radiants won't be able to keep us from finding out what they did to the Hetin folk.”

     “Why should they care what we find out? If they can cause volcanoes to erupt, if they changed the climate of the whole planet to suit themselves, what can we do against them?”

     “Sire, they would not have tried to cover up their crime unless they feared retribution from us. Clearly, there is a way we can hurt them, even if we don't yet know what it is. I fear that they may move against us before we can find out. It is probably our recent scientific advances that they fear. Gunpowder. Steam engines. The telegraph. They may decide to rid us of these things by throwing our civilisation back to a more primitive state. Destroy our cities with storm and fire, kill the bulk of our population. Keep just a small seed population to provide humans for them to adopt. Carefully watched over, all scientific advance crushed before it can take hold. That is what I fear, Majesty.”

     The King stared in astonishment. “You build a mighty edifice from a very small foundation,” he said. “Isn't it more likely that the eruption of the volcano was a purely natural event? The goat girl may have been lying or mistaken. The Radiants may have had nothing to do with it.”

     “Sire, we brought some artefacts from the Hetin city back with us. Evidence that the Hetin folk procreated in a fundamentally different way from us. Evidence that the Radiants did not exist in their day. They first appeared just before the Hetin civilisation fell...”

     “The curator of the museum you visited may have been right,” interrupted Leothan. “The Hetin folk created the Radiants on purpose and unwittingly destroyed themselves.”

     “The curator was careful not to show us any books. He said that no books survived from that time, which we now know was a lie.”

     “Could they be ashamed that their creation led to the fall of the Hetin folk? They could be telling the truth, and have enough empathy to feel guilt and shame that their creation led to so much death and suffering.”

     “They massacred the people of Tollbine...”

     “If the goat girl didn't make up the whole story to get attention. You can't condemn the Radiants on the basis of one traumatised individual.”

     “Sire, there may be a way to determine the truth. We learned during our visit to the Radiant city that adopted humans gain a telepathic connection to the Radiants very early in their transformation. If we could interview one such person, one whose loyalty is still to humanity and not to the Radiants, we may be able to discover how they feel they relate to us. What their intentions are toward us. Whether we really have anything to fear from them.”

     The King stared. “You want to use my daughter!” he said.

     “The alternative would be to have a wizard cast a blessing on a volunteer, but it would take weeks for him to achieve a telepathic connection. The Princess is already here...”

     “I should have you executed for treason! Suppose you are right. Suppose the Radiants are our enemies. If we use my daughter to spy on them, they may become aware of it and, and take measures to, to cut off the flow of information. Who knows what they might do, what they might be capable of...”

     “I would never ask such a thing unless I believed it was desperately necessary. If they fear us, our scientific advances, they may attack us whether we provoke them or not.” The King's face was still dark with anger, but he ploughed on nonetheless. “Sire, they would only have cause for anger if our suspicions about them are correct. And, with all due respect, what could they possibly do to her that is worse than what they are doing now? They could have adopted her, raised her to be a true Radiant, in which case the entire kingdom would be united in joy on her behalf. Instead, they left her to her fate. Doesn’t that tell us something of their true nature? The Radiants are no friends of humanity. Indeed, they may be our active enemies. We must learn more about them, and this is the only way.”

     The King was silent for a long time. He rose from his seat and paced across the room, pausing before one of the windows to gaze out across the parade ground, two storeys below. Then he paced some more before finally coming back to stand before the Brigadier. “I will conduct the questioning myself,” he said.

     “Of course, your Majesty,” replied the Brigadier.