had to carefully balance healing her against how much stress from the healing her body could withstand.  The result was an agonizingly slow process that spilled so much of Miranda's blood on the carpet that it spread nearly three feet in every direction.  She had to urge Miranda's body into producing blood to replace what she bled out as well as knitting together her shredded insides, and it drained Keritanima to nearly her limit.  But she refused to give up, refused to yield.  Miranda would not die like this!  Not by an assassin's pistol in a kitchen!  She gnashed her teeth and ignored her fatigue, putting everything she had into keeping Miranda alive long enough to complete the healing.  But there was progress.  Slowly, nearly imperceptibly, the holes in Miranda's belly and side began to shrink, internal organs began to mend themselves, tissues rejoined and fused, bones regrew lost mass.  Keritanima was so immersed in the healing that she lost all track of time, so when she leaned back on her heels and blew out her breath, sagging so much that Binter caught her, she saw the horrid stain on the carpet and realized she was kneeling in Miranda's blood.  Her dress had soaked it up, leaving it red to nearly the waist, and it was caked all over her forearms and hands.  Azakar and Binter had been watching the door, Zak still there, and Kalina stood nervously as far into the room she dared come in.  If someone threw open the door, they would see both Keritanima and Kalina, and their secret would be compromised.
	But Miranda would make it.  It had been incredibly difficult, the hardest thing she had ever done, but she would live.  "She's going to be alright," Keritanima panted.  "Zak, carry her into my room.  Kalina, clean her up and put a nightgown on her and put her in my bed.  She needs sleep, and alot of it.  Don't let her get out of that bed for any reason," she said sternly.
	"Right now, Kerri," Zak assured her, rushing over and collecting the unconscious mink Wikuni up into his armored arms, the greaves splotched with Miranda's dried blood.
	"I'll take good care of her, Keritanima," Kalina assured her in an uncharacteristically gentle and compassionate voice.  Feelings for others wasn't like Kalina.
	Keritanima shrugged out of Binter's gentle grip and dragged herself to her feet, her face screwed up in a snarl of anger.  This would not happen again!  That they would dare attack Miranda in the Palace!  Her anger began to fuel her power, boosting her reserves and making her feel strong enough to deal with the situation right now.
	"Binter, come with me," she said furiously, shoving up the sleeves of her dress aggressively.  "We're going to go kill someone."
	"Yes, Princess," Binter replied calmly, picking his hammer up from the corner.
	Keritanima threw open the door and stepped out.  She knew she had to be a sight, with her bloodstained dress and her furious look, but she didn't care.  She had not a whit of concern for what anyone thought or said about how she looked or what she did.  This time, they went way over the line, and it was time to step on someone.  She had a good idea how Tarrin felt sometimes when he rushed headlong to protect the others, taking all the risks to keep his sisters and friends safe.  Miranda was her oldest friend, her best friend outside her brother and sister, and she wasn't just going to let this go.  Not this time.
	To say that she was angry was an understatement.  She was utterly infuriated.  She was so angry that she was nearly frightened of it, but her rage made her blind to her own self-fear.  There would be blood to pay, and that blood would come right now.  She was so mad that a red haze had filmed over her eyes, and her pulse pounded inside them in time with the angry pounding of her heart.  Yet her mind was clear, calm, icily calm.  She knew exactly what she had to do, and she was ready, eager, nearly frenzied to carry it out.  She found herself staring at her own towering fury, and she accepted it completely.
	"Princess, you're not allowed--" one guard began, but it was cut short when Keritanima made a slashing motion at the cat Wikuni, and he went flying down the hallway to impact against the hallway's end some twenty feet away.  He crashed to the floor and laid there, unmoving.
	"Do you want to make an objection?" she asked the other guard in a nearly hysterical voice.
	The dog Wikuni gaped at her and shook his head vigorously.
	"Good.  If anyone enters my apartment while I'm gone, I'll crush you into a liquid and use you to paint my bedchamber.  Do you understand me?"
	The guard nodded emphatically, holding his halberd in a deathgrip as he moved to block the door after Binter exited the apartment.
	She made no attempts to hide or sneak.  Keritanima marched through the hallways of the Palace with Binter following closely behind, pushing anyone out of her way that interrupted her, sometimes resorting to displays of Sorcery to move the more dumbfounded.  Keritanima marched straight to the kitchen, where servants busily worked to clean the bloodstain off the stone floor so they could get back to the chore of cooking.  Keritanima ignored them as she raised her hands and touched the Weave, weaving together he spell that made scents visible.  She didn't know who attacked Miranda, but she did know that the Wikuni used a gun.  Gunpowder had a very disctinct odor, and it would leave a very visible trail.  So long as the assassin kept that gun on him, she could use it to track him down.
	The trail became visible, a bright orange series of glowing dots and splotches spattered on the floor.  Keritanima and Binter followed that trail at a brisk pace, along the servant's hallways and down into the basement, then back up again in a residential area for noble guests of the Crown.  It ended at an elaborate double door, one of the more prestigious residences.  Keritanima simply pointed at the door, and Binter used his hammer to break it down with one blow.
	Inside were a rather unusual combination of five people.  The two she noticed immediately were Arthas Zalan, the raccoon Wikuni head of the noble house Zalan, and none other than Jenawalani.  Two others she identified as Praki Mation, a female bear Wikuni that led the minor noble house of Mathon, and Carlis Eward, the male meerkat Wikuni who led another minor noble house of the same name.  The fifth Wikuni was dressed in servant's garb, a gray-furred wolf Wikuni, who now had orange spots on his waistcoat since he was within Keritanima's line of sight.
	"What is the meaning--" Arthas Zalan began, but he went silent and gaped when he saw Keritanima.
	She never said a word.  A blinding blast of lightning issued forth from just in front of the still Princess and lanced across the room, striking the gray-furred wolf Wikuni squarely in the face.  He didn't even have a chance to scream before the intense heat caused his head to explode, showering Jenawalani and Praki Mation with grisly spoor.  Praki began to scream incoherently, holding up her arms and nearly jumping up and down in place, but Jenawalani simply wiped a smatter of brains from her muzzle and fixed her sister with an icy stare.
	"How dare you murder my servant!" Arthas Zalan screamed.
	Keritanima turned her merciless gaze on him, and Arthas Zalan stared in horror, realizing that he had just sentenced himself to death.  Keritanima carried out that sentence instantly, raising a hand and pointing at him, as a pale blue beam of pure energy blasted forth from her single finger.  It struck him squarely in the chest, enveloping him before he could writhe, and leaving him standing motionless, his face locked in a look of agonized horror that made Jenawalani scream in terror at the sight of it.
	His body had been turned into ice.
	Keritanima issued forth a single scream of rage, amplified by her own magical power.  It hit them like a giant's hand, slamming them all back and away from her, but to Arthas Zalan it was the final blow.  It struck like Binter's hammer, shattering his ice body and scattering it all over the back of the room.
	The three survivors gaped at Keritanima from where they were laying against the back of the destroyed room.  Keritanima's blast had shattered more than Arthas Zalan.  The table and the furniture that had been just in front of the Crown Princess had been shattered by the power of the blast, and that which wasn't close enough to break laid scattered all against the back wall of the room, sometimes on top of a surviving noble.
	Keritanima glared viciously at them, and when she spoke, it was like the cold hand of Death Herself issuing forth from her maw.
	"If you ever, ever, try to kill me or anyone with me again, I'll make sure people shudder when they hear your name for a thousand years," she promised in a voice so cold that the three nobles shrank back from her.  "This is not your game anymore, and I play for keeps," she added with a hiss.  "If you want to stay alive, then leave me alone!"
	They just stared at her in awe and horror.
	"Binter, bring that body," she said, pointing at the headless corpse of the wolf Wikuni.  "It's carrying the pistol that will give me all the evidence I need to shrug off any punishment."
	Binter nodded calmly, stalking across the room and picking up the body by the tail.  The Vendari dragged it callously behind him, leaving a smeared trail of blood from the mangled neck.  Keritanima gave the three survivors one more ominous glare, then turned and left in front of her hulking protector.
	That was one name to cross off her list.
 
Chapter 14

	No spy would come within a mile of Keritanima now.
	When she got back to her apartments after eliminating Arthas Zalan, she killed all the spies around her apartment.  No subtle games, no making them vanish and leaving her opposition curious.  She killed them.  She left their bodies there for others to discover, and when men came to find out why the spies weren't reporting, she killed them.  Then she killed those who came to see why the checkers didn't report back.  After the third wave, they seemed to realize that going to find out what was going on was suicide, so no more came to find out what was going on.
	By then, she simply had nothing left.  She had pushed herself beyond her limits, and the last killing Mind weaves nearly knocked her out.  Binter had to put her to bed after that, sleeping beside the recovering Miranda, with Kalina and Azakar in the room as physical protection while Binter covered the middle chamber.
	The sleep had broken her fury.  When she awoke, she felt weary and drained, but she wasn't walking the edge of control any longer.  In those initial moments of lucidity, after checking on Miranda, she analyzed what she did, and considered how it would change things.
	Her attack on Arthas Zalan was no doubt common knowledge by now, and it would tell those seeking to plot against her that she did not play.  That she was more than willing to come after anyone she caught planning against her and kill them would most certainly be riding high in the minds of anyone who wanted to do it.  The fact that she was a Sorceress in a kingdom where only priests were technically allowed to practice magic worked in her favor.  Her magic was strange, powerful, terrifying to people used to seeing only the gentle magic of the priests, who wouldn't use their magic to harm other living beings except in self-defense.  She was certain that those who had seen her or followed her knew that she used her magic to track down Miranda's attacker.  Her status as the Crown Princess made her generally inviolate from retribution, even as it protected her from the law against magic.  That law didn't apply to the Royal Family, who were only constrained by the laws that specifically dealt with them.  And that she had found them so quickly, before they could even scatter after meeting with their assassin, would also be high in their minds.  It would make even the daring think twice about attempting anything like that again, knowing that the Princess could use her mysterious powers to track them down with shocking speed, and possibly be only two steps behind them with murder in her eyes.
	Her attack on her rivals had established two simple rules for the others.  Proceed at your own risk, and if you do proceed, do not fail.  This was no longer the cloak and dagger world of noble politics, where the nobles could get away with murder if they were clever enough to cover their tracks.  Keritanima had raised it to a new level, a level where the lives of those who dared dabble in intrigue was in very real and very immediate danger.  Because she was intelligent enough to unravel even compex plans, she had magical powers that would make it very easy for her to find her enemies, and she had already demonstrated a willingness to immediately kill anyone she knew was conspiring against her, she felt that the noble houses, her father, and other powerful organizations in Wikuna would think twice about doing that again.
	They would do it again eventually.  This was Wikuna, and intrigue was like food to a starving man.  The hunger for power would fuel the desire in others, and they would lose their fear of her and again start arranging things so they had the most power.  But now they were going to be very careful.  And to be that careful, they were going to have to pull back and reorganize themselves, prepare to be just that careful.
	By then, it would be too late.
	She silently cursed the laziness of her father.  Where was he?  Certainly he finished repealing the laws preventing him from punishing her by now.  She expected them to come for her today.  She had to get the flogging out of the way, so she could move onto the next step in the plan, and she couldn't do that so long as she was confined to her room.  Kalina had served her primary purpose in allowing her to get Ulfan on the ball, but the risk was too great to use Kalina's services any more than absolutely necessary.  Kalina was good at pretending to be her, but she didn't know everything, and Keritanima had changed since her time abroad.  There was a chance that Kalina would blow it.  It wasn't Kalina's fault, it was Keritanima's.  Kalina needed time to study Keritanima, to learn how to play the new incarnation of her personality, that of the Princess.  If Kalina had some time to prepare, Keritanima wouldn't think twice about leaving her to pretend to be her.  But time was the one thing they didn't have.  She had exactly two months and twenty-seven days, and every day counted.  She needed to get out there and find out what was going on with the noble houses, so she would know what plans to lay in order to keep them from interfering with her.
	Houses.  Keritanima chuckled wickedly once when she thought of Arthas Zalan.  With him dead, that meant that the ruling chair of the house now belonged to Sheba, his eldest child.  Sheba would chafe at the responsibilities, of having to be a part of the system.  If there was a more fitting punishment for Sheba, Keritanima didn't think she could think of it.  To stick Sheba into the world of long boring speeches and political backbiting was an eminently suitable punishment for her part in hurting Keritanima's family.  Shackling Sheba's free spirit to her chair was a just dessert for what she'd done.
	The flogging.  She already had a plan for that.  It was going to be very exhausting, but there was a way she could protect herself with Sorcery and be inobtrusive about it.  She couldn't afford to be bedridden for weeks recovering from one hundred lashes, and the mystique about her would only increase after the flogging.
	It really should be today.  Her father wasn't about to give her time to attempt to throw up more blocks.  Keritanima peeked out of the curtains and looked towards the window.  The sun was already above the window, and that meant that it was well into mid-morning.  Her father had promised a noontime flogging in the Market Square, and he would deliver on exactly that.  That meant that if was going to be today, then it would be very soon.  She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, a Tellurian device that was amazingly accurate in keeping time, and saw that it was only an hour before noon.  Climbing out of bed, she removed her nightgown--she didn't remember putting it on--and tested her strength with the Weave.  She was still drained, but she thought she had enough to pull off what she was planning.  Her first step was to weave together a Ward, a ward that would repel all things but air and liquids, a Ward that extended no further than a hair's bredth away from her skin.  Her fur pierced the Ward, but since the fur was there when the Ward was created and Keritanima took the fur into account when she created the Ward, it would be able to stay as it was when the Ward was made.  Sorcery couldn't affect the Sorcerer, but there was nothing stopping her from putting a layer of magical armor as close to her skin as she could get it without touching.  Her fur didn't count, because the hairs that made up her fur were dead, where her skin was alive.  That was a significant distinction where Sorcery was concerned.  She set the Ward so it would sustain itself for some time, hours, and also set it so it would move with her like a form-hugging dress.  The problem now was that she couldn't put on clothes aside from a robe.  They too would be repelled by the Ward, and since she didn't know what her father would have used to flog her, she was going to take no chances.
	She slipped on a robe, looking to see how noticable the fact was that it wasn't touching her.  Not that bad.  Tying it was a challenge, because the Ward prevented her from grabbing the ties, and the Ward's boundary made everything as slippery to her as a wet fish.  Her fur provided some traction, but she had no fur on the gripping pads on her palms and fingers.  The only part of her that could touch something was the bottom of her feet, for that was where the Ward ended.
	The door opened, and Binter entered carrying a tray of food.  "Highness, how is Miranda?" he asked immediately.
	"Still sleeping," she replied.  "And let her sleep, Binter.  She needs it."
	"She's been asleep for two days, Highness."
	"I know.  I checked her, Binter, so don't worry.  She's in natural sleep now, and she'll wake up within a couple of hours."
	"She'll wake up now," Miranda called groggily from the bed.
	Binter and Keritanima looked in that direction, then they rushed over to her.  Keritanima kept her distance while Binter put his humongous hand on Miranda's forehead, literally only using one finger to check for fever.  "Are you well, Miranda?" he asked.
	"I feel like I was dragged behind a carriage," she said weakly.  "What happened?"
	"You were shot by an assassin," Keritanima said with a bit of seething in her voice.  "In the kitchen."
	"I remember going into the kitchen with Zak, but nothing after that," she replied a moment later.
	"That may be a good thing," Binter told her gently.  "Her Highness says that you are best off sleeping, little one.  You should go back to sleep."
	"In a minute.  What did I miss?"
	"You missed me killing Arthas Zalan for trying to kill you," Keritanima said bluntly.
	"You didn't!"
	She nodded grimly.  "I had proof of it, so it was legal.  Did they ever come and ask about that,  Binter?"
	He nodded.  "They came with a large contingent of guards.  I presented the body and pistol and told them what happened.  They did not do anything after that other than remove the body for burial."
	"Of course not.  They know you'd never lie to them.  Anyway, Jenawalani, Praki Mation, and Carlis Eward were in on it with him, but they didn't give me the proof I needed to blast them.  For once in her life, my little sister kept her mouth shut.  More's the pity."
	Miranda yawned.  "I think going back to sleep is a good idea," she said wearily.  "But not until I eat.  I'm starving."
	"Binter, give her some breakfast," Keritanima ordered.  "Then help her change into a new nightgown and get back to sleep."
	"You won't need me?"
	Keritanima shook her head.  "If they come to whip me, they'll make me go alone.  You and Zak need to be here to protect Miranda and Kalina, because they're not in a position to protect themselves.  Don't worry, I'll be fine," she cut him off with a smile.  "I have a plan, Binter."
	"I don't have to like it, but if you have a plan, then you must be prepared for it," he said after a moment.  "Be careful, Highness.  Even the best plan can go awry."
	She smiled and nodded, then left her bedchamber.
	Kalina was sleeping in the extra bedchamber, she found out from Azakar, who was standing near the door with his sword drawn.  He was taking his job of protector very seriously, and that made Keritanima feel a great deal better about leaving them alone.  "Zak," she greeted with a nod.
	"You should be in bed, Kerri," Azakar said disapprovingly.
	"I need to be ready in case they--"  There was a knock at the door.  "Well, speak of ill winds, and they fill your sails.  Enter," she called to whoever knocked on her door.
	It was the Chamberlain.  He stepped in and gave Keritanima a terrified look, then cleared his throat and drew himself up.  "Princess Keritanima, King Damon Eram orders you to remove your clothes and accept the punishment he has already decreed.  Be assured that there are no more laws preventing you from escaping your punishment.  Please, for all our sakes, just take it and be done," he added in a very informal tone.  "I'll arrange a priest to heal you, but please just get it overwith!"
	Keritanima gave the Chamberlain a curious look.  Spontaneous words from a Chamberlain?  Chamberlains were famous for their strict adherance to their monarch's wishes.  Maybe her father had made a mistake in taking this man for his Chamberlain.  Maybe she could use that to her advantage.
	"Of course, my lord Chamberlain," she said casually, daringly pulling her robe open and then letting it fall to the floor.  She looked right at him, unblinking, as he gawked a bit at her slender form.  That she seemed totally at ease standing naked before him seemed to surprise him.
	All that time spent naked with her brother and sister in the baths had done wonders for her self confidence when unclothed.  She didn't like being nude, but she found she could accept it and keep her honor, just as Allia always said.
	"Don't worry, I'm not going to bite you," she said with a light smile.  "Just obey my rules.  Firstly, do not touch me.  I'll kill anyone who lays a hand on me.  Secondly, give me space.  If my father wants me to walk to Market Square and back naked, then don't worry about my modesty.  I'm a big girl, and I can handle it.  Thirdly, I expect protection on the walk up and back.  No less than twenty Royal Guardsman.  Now then, let's get this overwith."
	"I find your conditions acceptable, Highness," the Chamberlain said.  "Guards already await you.  I'll instruct them to keep a loose cushion around you, but not to touch you."
	"Good man," she said.
	With a shiver of her tail and a glance back at the others, Keritanima walked out to accept her punishment.

	It was an exercise in total humiliation, she realized.
	Her father had taken steps.  He had seeded the path up to Market Square with spectators, had even called out the Watch to help maintain order.  The warm, cloudless day made sure that there would be enough passers by to get caught up in the spectacle as well, and that formed a large crowd.  Some of them shouted, some threw things--probably the ones hired by her father to whip up the crowd--but most of them just stood and watched.  Many of them were appalled.  But to a man or woman, they all noticed that Keritanima-Chan Eram, heir to the throne, walked with a calm demeanor and a stoic face.  She walked as if she were garbed in the finest gown, walked as if she were strolling in the garden.  The fact that she was being paraded through the capital of her kingdom naked seemed to have no effect on her at all.
	It did, however.  There was a tinge of humiliation, especially when some brash man shouted some rather unflattering or crude comments her way.  Each step strengthened her resolve to face up to it with honor, just like Allia taught her, and keep up her appearances.  It was vital that she appear before the people as someone in complete control in the face of such abuse, someone that was strong.
	The path the Chamberlain led her, a path chosen by her father, was a seriously roundabout route that took them through the richest and the most populated areas of the city.  Damon Eram was making sure that everyone saw Keritanima walking the streets of Wikuna naked.  Everyone from carriage-riding nobles to rag-clad beggars saw Keritanima's glory, but more than a few noticed the pride she carried on her shoulders as well.  They led her along the gardened avenues of the richest neighborhood in Wikuna, they marched her up and down the Boulevard, the main street in Wikuna that was packed with shops and businesses.  The Boulevard ran from the northern road out of Wikuna to Market Square, the largest open-air marketplace in Wikuna, and also a place where decrees, proclomations, and public executions and punishments were carried out.  Most prisoners and condemned were brought from the Black Fortress, a grim old castle that was now a prison, along Chain Way.  An appropriate name, since the prisoners were forced to march from the prison to the square wearing leg irons.  Keritanima too walked Chain Way, from just outside the prison and along the entire length of the wide paved street, until Market Square was visible.
	It was a huge open area, usually filled with tents and collapsible stalls where merchants and peddlars hawked their wares to the people of the city.  City law required all merchants and their tents or stalls to be out of the square by sunset, so the layout of the square changed every day, as peddlars raced each other to set up in the choicest spots at dawn the next day.  The result was an ever-changing maze of small tents, lean-tos, stalls, and sometimes simple tables holding goods from all over the world.  It was said that anything could be bought in Wikuna, and that was certainly true in Market Square.  Cheap costume jewelry could be standing beside priceless jewels.  It was like that because many people found Market Square convenient, where only one stop would allow them to buy everything they needed, so some merchants hired bodyguards to protect their goods and displayed expensive and rare items within the square.  Generally, it was known that the better, richer, and more impressive the tent or stall, the higher prices and more expensive merchandise one would find if they shopped there.
	The entire center of Market Square was empty, and in its place was the Block.  It was a wooden platform erected for public punishments, so the public could get a better look.  For executions, a gallows was built on top of it.  A huge crowd had formed around the platform, eager for the day's spectacle, filling up the empty space between the platform and the closest tents and stalls.  They shouted and jeered as the guards marched the nude Keritanima into the square, filling her ears with a garbled din where all the voices flowed together to create a singular unintelligible roar.  But she walked calmly, slowly, making no attempts to conceal herself, giving them all an eyeful.
	The Chamberlain stopped at the crude steps leading atop the platform, where three Wikuni waited.  A cryer, who would read the sentence, a man to carry it out, and an official witness to the event.  Keritanima didn't see her father, or the members of court, but she knew they were there, somewhere close by, watching.  Probably in a special tent with bleachers, making wagers on how many lashes Keritanima could take before she passed out.
	She would show them.
	Keritanima brushed by the Chamberlain without a word, climbing the steps on her own and without being forced.  She walked up to the three Wikuni, a lithe ferret Wikuni who wore the livery of a King's servant--the witness--a huge alligator Wikuni wearing the black leather of the Prison Guard--the punisher--and a swallow-necked stag Wikuni with a chipped antler, who was the cryer.  Keritanima walked up to the exact center of the platform, then stopped and folded her arms patiently.
	The crowd lulled as the stag unfurled a parchment in his hands.  "Hear ye, Hear ye!" he boomed in an impressively loud voice, a voice that carried to every corner of Market Square.  "Be it known by Royal Decree that Keritanima-Chan Eram, Crown Princess of Wikuna, has been pronounced guilty of insolence to the throne, plotting against the King, insubordination, and dereliction of her Royal duties!  By the command of King Damon Eram, King of Wikuna, Keritanima-Chan Eram is hereby sentenced to take the lash one hundred times!"
	That made the crowd gasp and begin to whisper.  Usually even the most horrific crime warranted fifty lashes.  Most sentenced to more tended to die during the flogging.
	"Does the guilty party wish to make a statement?" the cryer boomed.  This was where Damon Eram would give her the opportunity to beg, beg and humiate herself, in the very stark, real face of her punishment.  It was actually a clever idea, to deepen her humiliation by letting her face the fact that she had been weak and begged.  But she intended to make him eat that decision.
	"I do," she said calmly.  "If my father is ruthless enough to sentence me to this, just imagine what he'd do to you!" she shouted to the crowd.  "I'm here because I did nothing more than embarass my father.  Thank the gods I didn't do anything illegal!"  She gave the cryer a slight smile.  "I'm done.  We can get on with this now.  My lunch is getting cold."
	The cryer gave her a curious look, then he frowned ever-so-slightly.  "Then let the will of King Damon Eram be carried out!" he boomed.  He turned to the witness, who then nodded to the prison guard who would be the administer of the punishment.  The alligator shook out a very long whip, then cracked it to his side a few times to both get out the kinks and prepare the crowd.
	Keritanima studied that whip intensely for a long moment, her exceptional mind analyzing its length, its thickness, and the way it moved.  Then she closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly, reaching deep within and making a strong connection to the Weave.  Once she felt she was ready, she built up a considerable reserve of power, 