Tugby flitted about the grand sitting room adjusting vases of flowers and rearranging the draperies. The others were seated in a large conversation area of the Gothag home, relaxing and smiling at his fussy antics.

Gothag shook his head and pleaded, "Tugby, for Reb's sake stop puttering and come and join us." He shifted his arm sling of silver stitched, purple silk to a more comfortable position on his chest. "Or if you must stay in motion then refill our guest's glasses."

Scolding his master's tone with an impatient look, he bobbed from glass to glass with the decanter of wine, dabbing the drips with a towel and taking extra time and care with Mare Dwellen's. Over the past few days Tugby had overseen the needs of the injured citizens, organized the clean-up of the town square and, with extra special attention, located suitable accommodation for Marc's grandmother. The two of them finding great pleasure in each others company.

"So, Marc of Alden. I believe we have unfinished business." Gothag announced after Tugby had finished his serving.

"In the light of recent events sir, I don't think that I - we─" He smiled across at his grandmother and stopped abruptly, jarred by the fact that her own gaze was not at him but instead on the busy Tugby.

"Nonsense," Gothag waved his good arm, "nothing has happened to change the original bargain."

"Absolutely," Marra interjected, patting her husband's knee, "your carving now holds the place of honour in the Reb reliquary of the cultural centre. And there it shall remain."

"Well, I- I uh. I'm honoured, to be sure, but as for . . ." He sputtered, confused by his grandmother's inordinate attention of Tugby.

Kress, watching the exchange, giggled behind her hand as her father interrupted. "Mare Dwellen's accommodation has been arranged so we'll hear no more about that. Tugby has located a splendid little cottage near the river bridge large enough for you both and, closer to your work. We shall all expect many more pieces of art from your capable hands." Gothag laughed and drained the last of his wine with a loud slurp.

Marc sat back, a wry expression on his face as the shoe dropped. Over the past few days Tugby and his grandmother had been bustling off together a number of times and the meaning was finally clear.

Kress stood, walking over to him and taking his hand, whispered in his ear. "It would seem Mare Dwellen has acquired a new interest here in the big city. Come, let's take a stroll."

Wincing visibly, Marc allowed himself to be led away as his grandmother tipped her raised glass in his direction smiling impishly.

*****

The square had returned to normalcy, the dais removed, repaired and stored away until the next festival; the streets cleaned from the litter and damage of the Belgards attack. Din-Ryka had been tried and sentenced again to exile. This time it was in an empty space boat launched into the constellation's farthest reaches where, perhaps joining his long departed father, he would eventually perish, dwelling on the fate his folly had delivered.

His cave base had been emptied and sealed against further use, and the ship the Belgards had arrived in was sent back to Belgar with a one-time message containing a strong warning regarding the failed assault.

Seated on an iron bench, shaded by a large elm that dominated the entrance to the cultural centre, Kress turned and remarked coyly. "I believe you have something of mine Marc of Altan."

He looked over, taking in her soft fresh, smiling features and for a second or two lost himself in her wide, clear eyes. "Huh? What did . . ."

"I said. I believe you have something of mine." Kress coloured slightly from his intense gaze and smoothed the panels of her skirt.

"Something . . .?"

Impatiently she slapped her hands on her thighs and reproached him. "For goodness sake you dodo, my horse. You know. The carving you gave me."

"Uh, oh, oh yes. The horse. I uh, I found it in the street where they held you." He fumbled in his jacket pocket. "It was a clever move to drop it as a clue." He ventured.

Drop it, she thought, realizing it must have fallen out as she was draped over her captor's shoulder. "Well men aren't the only ones with brains sir." she replied, quickly seizing the advantage given her.

He withdrew the tiny carving and placed it in her hand. "No. You're right. And they certainly can't compare in beauty either." He stated boldly, hoping his nervousness wouldn't show.

Kress bit her lip and fingered the smooth surface of the carving. After a moment she looked at him and confessed. "I really didn't drop . . ."

"Well perhaps it just . . ." Marc tried consoling.

"I think it was when . . ."

"However. It led me to you." He sighed impatiently.

"So then it doesn't matt . . .?"

"Not to me." he said firmly, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her waiting lips.

THE NEW BEGINNING