The king of Cepheus, Jupiter, was by reputation, the most honourable of the brothers. Although he had played only a minor role in the determination of the laws of the kingdoms, he had willingly agreed to abide by them. His reputation as a being of wisdom, tolerance and moderation extended far beyond the borders of the kingdoms. That kindly and noble reputation had made it to the ears of Cathal. Jupiter was also pragmatic and wise; or so the story went. He loved his brothers with all his heart, and he was wholeheartedly committed to their quest for restoration to grace. If the other brothers had to choose one from amongst them to be their leader, Jupiter would have been their first and only choice. Conversely, it was his love for his brothers, all his brothers, that meant he was not the right choice for the great war that was to come. With his manic desire to rule over everything at all costs, Saturn had to be opposed by a leader who could see past the love for one fallen brother in the name of the greater good. Jupiter could not do that. The king hoped that his wayward brother would come to his senses once he saw just how fixed his brothers' resolve and might was. For a wise king, it was a foolish expectation.

And so, in the marsh wastelands of the floodplains of the mighty river Gihon, the greatest city of all the lands arose at Jupiter's command. Grey and blue stone had been quarried in the neutral lands of the blue mountain, and each massive block of stone was drawn by horse and cart to the banks of the river and raised into place by Jupiter's children, grandchildren, and his once immortal followers. The walls of the city tested the necks of all observers as they stood at the foot of the walls and strained to find their top. The city walls were as smooth as glass, and a round tower, or square tower jutted out every hundred yards along the full extent of the walls. There was one entrance to the city, and it was blocked in times of battle by double doors of iron that could only be opened and closed by four teams of a dozen horses straining with all their might. Men with heavy broadswords, companies of archers, and mechanical weapons capable of repelling a siege, left the top of wide walls as crowded and noisy as a busy marketplace. The king truly longed for peace and reconciliation, but the impressive show of strength laid bare his proclamation that peace and reconciliation would be on his terms. Cathal provided this short history to Amy and Branna as they strolled along a quiet side street near to the inner wall of the great city.

Safely ensconced within the might of the city walls, a medieval town existed in apparent peace. Simple homes and shops were located next to the walls of the city. The streets were earthen, or poorly cobbled in that part of the city, and the people lived a basic existence. There was a very good reason why the people in that part of the city were forced to live in humble poverty, but it had been such a long time since Jupiter condemned them to their miserable lot that no one could clearly remember what that good reason was. They were content to be. Living under Jupiter's protection was a mercy, and they were grateful for it. The three intruders did not hear one word of discontent or whisper of rebellion as they cautiously made their way through the lower-class suburbs.

Towards the heart of the city the architecture, and purpose of the buildings changed dramatically. The butcher shops and bakeries of the near wall were replaced with swordsmiths, leather workers, grand homes fit for high-ranking civil servants, and then to the small and large palaces of the nobility. The grandest of all the palaces belonged to the king. It was majestic in both design and in scale. From a distance the palace looked like a mighty round tower. Up close, the white stone of the palace, and golden fittings of the high entrance door and encircling windows, betrayed the true nature of the building—in this place someone of great importance was to be found. The tower poked its majestic top above all other buildings in the city. Jupiter's throne room and personal chambers were on the top floor of the structure. It was to that room that Branna delivered her father and Amy.

Jupiter, dressed in the plain brown sackcloth of a priest, was sitting at a humble table by the side of the throne room. The king was eating pieces of cut fruit from a simple wooden plate. The king continued to eat when the uninvited guests stepped out of the air—it was not something that was completely outside the experience of the king, even if it was unexpected in that place.

"This is new," said Jupiter, through a mouth half-filled with mixed fruits. "Have you come to kill me?"

"Never," said Cathal. "You lads... I mean, your brothers; they would be the ones to do you in. Though I think you know as much. And that my daughter brought us to you thus should tell you that we are not beholding to your kin. She could slip in and out and leave nothing but your corpse, and a world of speculation, if she was your assassin. We truly mean you no harm."

Even though Branna was standing by his side, and he was fairly confident that she could protect him against any foe, Cathal was wise enough not to put that certainty to the test. The king was ancient and powerful. He had survived the kind of wars that were beyond human imagining, and Cathal respected and feared him deeply.

"Then why have you come?" asked Jupiter. "I am always open to visitors from the outside world. By appointment."

Cathal took a few cautious steps forwards.

"Your grace, we have come here for answers," Cathal explained. "I have been in this land for countless centuries, my daughter too, and in all that time we have come no closer to understanding why we are here. What our purpose is. We know something of your quarrels, yet we do not know what part we have to play; if any. Answers, that's all we seek."

Jupiter smiled. It was warm, and sympathetic.

"Then I am afraid you have come to me on a fool's errand," he said. "You have been here hundreds of years; I have been here for thousands of years. Since a time before time. Truthfully, I don't know why I'm here. I don't know what my purpose is. I have a vague recollection of a noble intention, but as the years have passed that notion has become myth."

Cathal edged forwards.

"Then tell us what you know," said Cathal. "We have come from the realm of men. It is my understanding that is something quite unusual for this land? Our kind are not normally permitted to enter? Surely there must be a reason why we are here?"

"If there is a reason, friend, then I do not know what it might be. That you came to my chambers on the wings of magic is something that should not happen. That kind of power is not only forbidden, it is impossible. That was my understanding. You should not be here, and I would be obliged to learn how you are here. If you are truly looking for a reason for your being here, that might be a grand place to begin. If we can fathom how you are here, perhaps we might also fathom why you are here. So, friend, tell me your story. If I like what I hear then we may have more to discuss."

"And if you don't like what you hear?" asked Cathal.

"You will stay here as my guests until the war is over," said Jupiter, with mild menace.

Cathal smiled wryly.

"Guests or prisoners?" asked Cathal.

"That depends of how you wish to view your circumstances," said Jupiter.

Cathal smiled again.

"My daughter might have something to say on that. But we can cross that bridge if or when we need to cross it. For now, I'll tell you my truth, and we can take it from there."

At the king's urging, they seated themselves around the table. Cathal began to tell his story and the king listened on intently, and emotionless. Cathal told of how he was turned into a vampire, and how his wife, a child of the old faith, saved him from damnation. He spoke of Branna, and how she too was damned by a vampire; and once again his wife acted to save her from that damnation. The evil that had tried to claim their souls viewed his wife as a threat and it attacked her, again and again until she could not take it any longer. She walked off into the forest on a winter's morning and she was never heard from again. He spoke with a choking, faltering voice about his two other daughters who were taken by the evil. They too were never seen again. Cathal told his tale of personal woe in an effort to impress on Jupiter the purity of his motives in visiting the kingdoms. Cathal not only wanted answers to the bigger questions surrounding the kingdoms, but he was also on a very personal mission; he ached for news of his missing family.

"And this one?" asked Jupiter, nodding towards Amy. "How does she fit into your quest?"

"This one is a bit of a mystery. She was brought here by a wiseman, from the modern world of man. The wiseman believed her to be important in the war that is to come. Your war. But we still have to establish why she is important."

Jupiter bit into a succulent peach. Juice from the fruit ran down his chin. He chewed slowly, and then swallowed.

"Which wiseman?" Jupiter asked.

"He goes by the name, John Dee," said Cathal.

The stoic Jupiter forgot himself for a moment as he reacted to the name. A strange mixture of fear, loss and hope pulsed across his face.

"You know Dee?" quizzed Cathal.

"I know him well. He, however, knows me not," replied Jupiter, with inscrutable glibness.

Cathal let the cryptic response slide as he believed that the king was warming to him and he did not want to strain the fledgling relationship. The king's response did leave Cathal worried, as it was hard to tell if the invocation of John Dee's name had inspired regret or fear in the king.

"Do you know where Dee is?" Cathal asked, meekly.

Jupiter closed his eyes. The expression of his face remained fixed, less a small, shifting contortion that could have been nothing more than the result of deep contemplation, or discomfort from trapped wind.

"I see him," Jupiter said, on opening his eyes.

"Where?" Cathal demanded, calmly.

"In the mortal realm. In a time, long past. Yet, I see him not, as much as I see him."

"Highness, I do not understand," said Cathal.

"John Dee is in great danger. He has one foot in creation, and one foot in oblivion. His fate is beyond our reach. We can but pray for him."

"Are you certain there is nothing that we can do?" asked Cathal.

"I am certain. His life is in the hands of a child. A powerful creature of light and righteousness. The boy knows how important Dee is, but he also knows how much death and destruction will follow should Dee be saved. That is all I see. All I know."

"As you say, highness," said Cathal.

There were answers to be had with regard to John Dee, but the time for those answers would simply have to wait. Cathal knew how to wait; he had been waiting for answers to many important questions for centuries. The king returned to his food. As he ate, he looked up at Amy. She had been scrutinising the king with suspicion. If she was as special as Cathal and the others seemed to believe, then her gift lay in her ability to see the evil that others tried to conceal. She saw no evil in Jupiter; not so much as a tiny, dark flicker.

"Is there something troubling you, young lady?" Jupiter asked.

"No," Amy replied. "Everything is fine. Well, at least I think that everything is fine."

"I am heartened to hear that," said Jupiter. "It would be my pleasure to give you shelter for the night. You can stay for a few days, if it pleases you? This is a wonderful city. The greatest settlement in this realm, or any other realm. You have my blessing to wander the streets and talk to my subjects, without interference."

His words were meant to put all of them at ease, but Amy couldn't help feeling that he was directing the offer at her—as if he knew what she was thinking; what she was trying to find out. He had nothing to hide, and he wanted her to know that, but she knew only too well that some of the biggest secrets and lies were often hidden in the open.

"You are too generous, highness," said Cathal, as he smiled warmly. "We would be delighted to accept your offer of hospitality."

"Then it is settled," said Jupiter, as he stood up. "My servants will show you to your quarters. If there is anything that you require, you need only ask. I have matters to attend to this evening, but I will be happy to meet with you in the morning."

They were escorted by three soldiers to a level below the king's quarters. The bedchambers were opulent and clearly designed with noble guests in mind. A guard remained outside the doorway to each room. The men were there to attend to the guests, but Amy couldn't help but feel that there was more to it than that. If the comfort of the king's guests were the true objective, then why post soldiers, and not maids, or other unarmed servants?

Branna was clear on why the guards were there. She appeared out of thin air in the middle of Amy's room. Branna scanned the room.

"As prison cells go, this is not entirely disagreeable," said Branna. "Yet it is still a prison."

"You are sure?" asked Amy, with alarm. "Maybe they really are here for our protection? Who knows what dangers we might be facing? There could be agents from the other kingdoms waiting to attack us? Like your dad said; we don't know what is really going on, or what role we have to play. There could be someone out there who doesn't want us to play any role."

"I'm sure there is, just as I am certain we are prisoners. I tried to leave my room by the door. The guard gave me some half-formed excuse about an outbreak of plague in the city. Funny that the king didn't mention it when he offered us the freedom to explore."

"Perhaps he didn't know?"

"Perhaps. Anyhow, I am going to have a look around."

"What will happen if the guard enters your room and you are not there?"

"The king seems like a reasonable man, but I wonder just how reasonable he would be if he was to learn that I had escaped? At the very least, we will know the truth. I wouldn't want to be the guard who brought him that news."

Amy smiled.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Amy asked.

"No. I don't intend to be gone for long. It is better that only one of us goes missing. My father seems to believe that the king is genuinely good, and he would prefer that we didn't upset him."

"And how about you? Do you believe that the king is good?"

"That's why I'm here. My father told me about your hidden sight. Did you notice anything about the king that I should be concerned about?"

"I did not. I thought that there was something not quite right about Ares, but this king seems fine. But I wouldn't place too much faith in what I see. I have no idea what it means; if it even means anything at all."

Branna turned to leave.

"Be careful," Amy said.

Branna smiled, and she was gone.

Amy paced the room for a few minutes. She may not have seen anything when she looked at Jupiter and his men, but she had a deep sense of unease about the situation they now found themselves in. Under normal circumstances she would have been content to relax in the splendour and comfort of the room, but the knowledge that she was not free to come and go as she pleased left her feeling deeply unsettled. She went to the door and opened it. The guard turned to face her.

"The king said that I was free to explore the city," Amy said, to the guard. She tried to sound confident, but her voice trembled with uncertainty.

"My lady, there has been an outbreak in poor town. All free movement within the city has been restricted until it has been contained."

Amy thought hard on his words.

"Can I move freely about this tower?"

The guard was not quite prepared for her question.

"I believe so, my lady."

"Good. I am going for a walk. I would like to visit the top of the tower. If I can't walk the streets of this great city, at least I can have a look at what I'm missing."

The guard pondered for a moment.

"Unless I am your prisoner?"

"No, my lady, you are free to come and go within this tower as you please. I will take you to the top of the tower," he said, trying to disabuse her of the notion that she was a prisoner. To solidify the point further, he continued by being overly generous in his assistance.

"There are several passageways that run from the tower to the city walls. The common folk are forbidden to enter those king's routes. You can avoid the illness if you stick to those corridors. You may visit the walls of the city, if that would please you?"

"I would like that very much."

Amy could not tell if the guard was making the offer to take her to the walls of the city through the underground passages to establish trust, or if he was making the offer in an attempt to keep her from climbing to the top of the tower, as she had requested. If it was an act of evasion it was doomed to failure as she fully intended on climbing the tower when she returned from the walls. If the guard refused to allow her to do so, then she would know exactly where they all stood—they were indeed prisoners, and Jupiter was no friend.

It took them close to half an hour to climb down the gently winding staircase that encircled the tower. The gradient of the staircase was easy on her legs, but the gentle incline also served to make the descent of the tower a lengthy affair. As they approached a heavy wooden door at the end of a torchlit corridor, they were confronted by two guards.

"The lady wishes to attend the walls," said Amy's guard.

The men immediately stood to one side and her guard opened the door. The straight corridor in front of them was long and poorly lit. Smoke from the torches that lined the walls of the passageway hung heavy in the air, stinging her eyes and frustrating her lungs. There were no side walkways off the corridor, or any rooms—it was a structure of unique and singular purpose—to safely conduct the king to the walls, and back to the tower. The walk to the walls took a further half hour. The unpleasant atmosphere left her lungs burning and her mind tired. As they opened the door at the end of the corridor they were met by another pair of guards.

"We are going to the top of the walls," her guard explained.

"As you say," replied one of the guards.

Both guards stood to one side to allow them to pass. A short, brisk walk brought them to another set of stone stairs. The stairs were large, and their incline was steep. Amy sighed. As she bounded up the stairs behind the guard her lungs and head began to clear. Fifteen minutes later she was standing next to the guard on top of the walls. The muscles in her legs burned, but the pain quickly melted away as the breath-taking view of city took full control of her thoughts. As night closed in at speed, the inhabitants of Cepheus settled into their homes. Specks of light from countless windows, and columns of black smoke from thousands of fireplaces, dominated the scene. There was barely a soul on the streets; Amy wondered if the empty streets were because of the time of day, or because the outbreak was real and not merely a ploy to keep her and the others from investigating the city and uncovering its secrets. Above it all, black and imposing against the setting sun, the tower of the king kept watch—still, and silent, and intimidating.

The top of the walls was wide enough to allow two fully laden wagons to pass with ease. At each watchtower a guard stood in motionless silence. Several servants drawing handheld carts moved from tower to tower, handing provisions to the men on the night watch. As she turned her back on the city, the sun finally vanished, and moonlight instantly repainted the cityscape, and the lands beyond, in greys and black. The mighty river, and farmlands and forests acquired an otherworldly, magical aspect under the silver-grey light of the large moon. A deep peace settled within her. Her guard left Amy's side to speak to one of the watchmen. The two men exchanged jokes and they laughed heartily as Amy continued to drink in the magic of the view below her.

The tiny hairs on the back of Amy's neck began to bristle as if they were being stroked by a gentle, icy wind. By the edge of a nearby forest a figure in black on top of a white horse emerged from the trees at leisurely pace. Amy strained to penetrate the scene under the eerie moonlight, but she could not force her eyes into focus on the man. At such a far-off distance the best her eyes could achieve was a man-shaped shadow on horseback. The lack of clarity was frustrating to begin with, but even her young eyes had their limits, and she eventually settled to the truth that she would have to wait for the man to draw closer before she got a clear view of him. As the man approached the city her frustration gave way to concern—try as she might, the figure remained black, and smoke-like. His face, entirely masked by the shifting darkness, doggedly refused to reveal itself. She could make out other objects close to the man with ease—an abandoned cart, and a tree, and a crop of boulders; but the man's form refused to sharpen.

Frustration got the better of her and she turned to alert the guard. She ran straight into the soldier as she turned. Taking a step backwards, she spoke.

"There is someone of horseback down there. I think you should tell someone."

The guard sighed.

"He is expected," said the guard. "It is nothing to worry about."

"You don't understand; I think there's something odd about the rider. I think he's..."

She wasn't quite sure how to finish the sentence without sounding foolish.

"He's what, my lady?

"I don't know. I think there's something not quite right about him."

"As I said, the king is expecting the rider. If he be right, or not, it is a matter for the king to determine."

Amy took the mild rebuke with reluctant good grace.

"It is getting cold," she said. "I would like to return to the king's tower."

"As you wish, my lady."

With the shape of the faceless rider burned into her mind, she hurried back to the tower. The guard puffed and panted as he tried to keep up with her, but the soldier did not complain. When they got back to her room the guard gave her a friendly warning.

"My lady, I believe that you know who the rider is. My king also knows who he is. The rider will not harm you or your friends. I know this to be true. If you and your friends have any thoughts of investigating this matter further, it would not please my lord. Be content in the knowledge that you are perfectly safe and that my king knows what he is doing."

Amy nodded her head to indicate that she understood, even though she didn't understand or believe a word of it. The guard opened the door to her room. As Amy entered the room the door closed firmly. A bolt on the outside was slid into place, gently, and for the first time. The quiet motion was a failed attempt to shield her from alarm. She truly was a prisoner.