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“Or feed you to the ogre,” Grundy said. “But we’re soft-headed, and you’re too clever to waste.”

They trooped out. “Oary has graciously consented to be your ambassador to the Magyar court of the Rhazar empire,” Dor told King omen, who had finally completed the receiving line. “He wants only what is best for the Kingdom of Onesti.”

“Excellent,” King Omen said. He had evidently been briefed in the interim. “And who will be Xanth’s ambassador to Onesti?”

“Amolde Centaur,” King Trent said promptly. “We realize that his enforced absence from his home in Centaur Isle is a personal sacrifice for him, but it is evident we need a certain amount of magic here, and he is uniquely qualified. He can escort specially talented Xanth citizens, such as my daughter, when trade missions occur.”

Amolde nodded, and Dor saw how King Trent was facilitating things for the centaur, too. Amolde had no future at Centaur Isle anyway; this put a different and far more positive face on it. Naturally Amolde would not spend all his time here; he would have time to visit his friend Ichabod in the other aspect of Mundania, too. In fact, he would be able to do all the research he craved. There was indeed an art to governance, and King Trent was demonstrating it.

“Ah, your daughter,” King Omen said. “You told me about her, during our long days of confinement, but I took it for the fond imaginings of a parent. Now I think it would be proper to seal the alliance of our two Kingdoms by a symbolic personal merger.”

Dor’s heart sank. King Omen certainly wasn’t reticent! He moved boldly to obtain what he wanted-as a King should. Dor doubted that he himself would ever be that type of person. The irony was that he could not oppose King Omen in this; he liked the man and owed him his life, and Irene liked him, too, and was probably thrilled at the notion. The alliance did seem to make sense, politically and personally.

If there were benefits to being in line for the Kingship, there were also liabilities; Dor had to give way to what was best. But he hated this.

King Trent turned to Irene. “How do you feel about it? You do understand the significance.”

“Oh, I understand,” Irene agreed, flushing becomingly. “It makes a lot of sense. And I’m flattered. But there are two or three little points. I’m young-“

“Time takes care of that,” King Omen said. It was evident that her youth did not repel him, any more than the youthfulness of the doxy had repelled King Oary. “In fact, women age so quickly, here in Onesti, that it is best to catch them as young as possible, while they remain attractive.”

Irene paused, as if tracking down an implication. In Xanth, women remained attractive a long time, with the aid of minor magic.

“And I would have trouble adjusting to a life with no magi-“ she continued after a moment.

“A Queen does not need magic!” King Omen said persuasively. “She has power. She has authority over the entire kitchen staff.”