"When I wake, I will instruct the caravan to divide, and a fast guard to take me back to the Imperial city.  I would only embarrass Father, since rumor will reach him, and our 'good cousins' before we possibly could.  That leaves the Council, however."<br/><br/>Drawn from Aurora's imagination, the red mists parted to reveal a rectangular table of black varnished wood, set with five chairs, two to a side, one at the foot, and a grand throne at the head.  Vague outlines of men formed, seated in all chairs but the throne, and the princess walked to it.  As she named the men of the Council, their faces appeared, giving momentary substance to their images, but she did not have the control, or the experience, to make such figments linger when she did not think on them.<br/><br/>"Holy Father Septimus," she named the first, and the thin, hard face of an ascetic in homespun robes appeared, sitting at the right side of the table, away from the Throne.  "He is a believer in his faith, and I seem to recall passages that speak of a dishonored daughter as having less worth than that of a lame horse.  He will oppose us.<br/><br/>General Bartan.  A soldier, grim, dignified, with a trace of Imperial blood, from a distant branch of the line, sons of lesser cousins and distant relatives.  "He is interested in neither myself nor Anmon, as Father has refused to have Amon trained as a knight.  He is loyal, and speaks for the armies, but who will he speak for?  I do not know."<br/><br/>Lucien Borgan.  A plump, soft young man of young years and easy living.  "Merchant prince, ambassador of the Trade Guilds.  He speaks for the 'common folk.'  He has lusted for me since I began to grow breasts.  He will support me, if I asked him, I think."<br/><br/>Lord Dondarion.  An old man, withered, weak, but with steel in his eye.  "Chief justice, keeper of the law.  By writ, the throne passes to the elder child, male or female, unless they be wedded to a noble from a nation outside our own.  Be I still unwed when father. . .abdicates. . .he will declare me the heir, because it is writ in the law."  Abdicate, an interesting word that.  Did she remain ignorant, willfully so, of what the lich truly meant to happen to her father, or merely wished to sugar coat it in conversation.<br/><br/>"That is the council, but there are other interested parties."  To either side of the throne appeared a figure, a man and a woman.  The woman was of a certain age, richly dressed, attractive through careful grooming and cosmetics.  "Baroness Umbrexia.  She has her title through marriage, and is a widow.  She comes of a lower rank, and father could not marry her, though she is his consort.  She would his preferred choice to hold the regency, if he has named anyone as yet.  Unless. . ."<br/><br/>Aurora gestured to the man, who appeared as an image of Balthazar himself, in his 40s with a full beard and untamed mess of hair.  "Uncle Philip.  He has no place on the Council no role in the court, no power and no support beyond what his title earns him.  He is third in line of succession, however, after Amon and myself.  He has no children, however.  He fancies boys, they say."<br/><br/>Aurora sat at the throne, around the shadowed figures the two of them would have to conquer in their quest, and looked at the ancient lich-king.  "Does my knowledge please you, grandsire?"