"Kyphallos on the throne of Cathur!" Croft frowned. "Has Scythys, then, laid down the scepter in favor of his son?"
"Scythys has died," Gaya said. "Wherefore, despite the fact that the cycle of betrothal has not run out, Kyphallos craves the privilege of entertaining Naia and her father, and assuring his people that he has chosen a worthy queen as his consort on the throne."
"And—and she—and they—have gone?" Croft stammered as he spoke.
"Aye." Gaya looked into his eyes. "Jasor, what of it? I—I am a woman, and I have thoughts—fears, perhaps, or fancies. I like this journey not. What does it portend?"
"That I know not; yet shall I ascertain," Croft replied between set teeth. "She told me to forget not my promise. By Zitu and Azil and Ga, I shall not. Gaya, my sweet woman, how long have they been gone?"
"This is the third day since they departed, my lord."
"They went—how?"
"In the ship which brought the escort—one Kyphallos sent."
"The day after tomorrow they arrive. So then there is time."