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was dead and his army was in ruins, the White City again was a safe haven. According to Burly, the druids also were no longer a threat. Navarese already had sent soldiers to the havens with orders for the citizens of Jivita to return. In a few short weeks, the White City would be teeming with hundreds of thousands. The services of Vikkama and the four Asēkhas with her were no longer needed. It was time to return to Anna. Perhaps they could all look forward to an era of peace—and growth. Even Vikkama believed that she was ready to bear a child. And she had thought of the perfect mate: Chieftain-Podhana.
    On the second day of full sunlight, Vikkama and the Asēkhas sat in Boulogne’s and guzzled Tugarian nectar. All five had drunk so much that even their furnace-like metabolisms could not ward off the effects of the alcohol. And what was so wrong with that? The war was won, the sorcerer destroyed, and Jivita made safe. After all the suffering, they had earned the right to some relaxation.
    Vikkama drank to the memory of the many tens of thousands who had died, including several thousand Tugars. Suddenly, the muscular female leaped to her feet, towering over the others. Her voice boomed throughout the small room. “ Tumhe marittha bahuumaanena ca vikkamena. N’atthi uttara pasamsaa . (You died with honor and bravery. There is no higher praise.)”
    “Ema! Ema!” the other Asēkhas chanted, requiring no explanation for Vikkama’s unplanned outburst.
    The next to speak was Burly, who stood on the table next to Vikkama. The enchanter’s squeaky words were slurred. “Asēkhas, I sense your desire to depart—and I beg a favor of you. Please take me with you. I am a wanderer! And I wish to visit Tējo at least once before all is said and done.”
    Vikkama was delighted, but also dubious. “Burly, you have the wisdom of a king and the strength of a giant . . . but when it comes to nectar, a single sip turns you into a simpering fool. Am I to believe that you will still wish to join us once you sleep this off?”
    Burly wrapped his arms around a mug half as tall as himself and took several gulps that were quite impressive by Gillygaloo standards. Then he burped. “Hmmph! You underestimate me, Vikkama. I can drink every bit as much as you—and more!” Then he burped again and sat down on his rump.
    The Asēkhas burst into laughter. It was a sweet sound. Vikkama leaned on her elbows and positioned her nose within a finger-length of Burly’s round face.
    “Master Enchanter,” she said, “I could think of nothing that would please me more than your company. And The Torgon and Queen Laylah will be overjoyed to see you again, I’m sure.”
    “It may even be that they’ll need my help,” Burly said. Then his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fell with a thump onto the gnarled tabletop. Immediately, he began to snore.
    The Asēkhas laughed so hard they almost passed out themselves.

12
    INVICTUS WAS DEAD. To Lucius, it meant that he was free . . . that Bonny was free . . . that the Daasa were free.
    Then Bonny spoke up, surprising Lucius with yet another unexpected revelation. “I feel something else,” she said. “The One God has blessed us, Lucius; we are who we once were.”
    “What does she mean?” Nīsa said.
    Lucius laughed. “It means . . . it means , Asēkha . . . that even you should not take us too lightly.”
    “Yes . . . Yes! ” Bonny screamed, and then she backed away and danced within the darkness, unafraid of going astray.
    Nīsa remained confused. This made Lucius laugh all the more.
    Not long after that, they reached the shipyard. Though the torchlit harbor town was filled with brigands and villains, the firstborn and his companions strode into it without fear. Any who dared oppose them were swept aside. Choosing to transform, Lucius and Bonny stood as tall as trolls, and the Daasa, again able to transform, were as strong as an army ten times their number. And