*Ar.'

It was like a yes, but with a mouth full of horse.

THE HOURS HER OWN.

Rostigan shifted his feet uncomfortably. Beneath one of the castle's higher balconies an enormous crowd gathered in the square, while more tried to squeeze in from the streets beyond. They had spilled into the barracks grounds, and climbed atop walls, roofs, and even up the square's ornamental trees, which did not quite look equal to the task. Soldiers, new recruits and civilians were mixed together without order, for today's proclamations applied to all.

*People of Althala,' said Yalenna, her voice carrying clearly from their height, *I am the Priestess Yalenna, and it grieves me to bring the worst of news.'

An undulating moan ran through the crowd * they already knew something of what to expect, and her dour tone seemed all the confirmation they needed.

*King Braston, your beloved ruler, and my dear friend, is dead.'

Wailing greeted her words, echoing around the square.

If you had actually known him, thought Rostigan, maybe you wouldn't feel so bad.

Yalenna waited for the anguish to subside, which it did not, so she continued anyway.

*Let it be known that your king took grievous wounds on behalf of us all, in trying to rid the land of the evil Warden known as Despirrow.'

At mention of that name the wails turned to anger.

*Perhaps Braston would have lived despite his hurts a' she cast a sidelong look at Loppolo, who waited beside her, and it was good the crowd could not see his nervous expression just then, *a and yet Despirrow stole into our very midst to finish him off. It is he who killed the king and he who is also responsible for the strange occurrence in which we lost the night.'

Anger grew, consternation. Fear.

*Despirrow is an enemy to every good man and woman of Aorn. He will be punished for his crimes!'

Righteousness, fury. For Rostigan and Yalenna, it was a welcome reaction. Braston's voice had reached so many, and if they now desired revenge, perhaps they would stay true to the cause.

Would they accept the next thing Yalenna had to say?

*We have been granted a small mercy, at least,' she continued. *Althala had a king before Braston. A good king, a valiant king * a king by right of birth!'

Murmurs.

*He has been of great help during these troubled times, and Braston valued his friendship and counsel.'

Rostigan was impressed. He had never seen Yalenna like this, booming as she told lies with conviction, despite her rage at the truth.

*And so it is with bittersweet gratitude that I present to you * King Loppolo!'

Loppolo stepped forwards, raising a solemn hand in greeting. There were cheers for him * maybe not overawing ones, but they did seem genuine, and warm. And why not? He had been a good king, was well respected for stopping the Unwoven spilling from the Pass years ago on the Ilduin. Even though it had really been Rostigan to set his feet in that direction.

Loppolo bowed before Yalenna, and went down on his knee. Certainly he knew how to play his part, and at least wasn't leaping about wringing his hands with pleasure. That was assuming he felt such a thing * Rostigan had the impression that Loppolo was growing to realise what he had gotten himself into.

Yalenna raised the crown high for all to see, then placed it on Loppolo's head. He rose and turned back to the crowd who cheered again, more loudly this time.

*My people,' said Loppolo, *it is unfortunate indeed that I return to you through such terrible circumstances. Yet I also feel gladdened by being able to serve you once again. I speak not only to my native Althalans, but also to those who have travelled to join us, and take up the most desperate of causes * to stand against the evils that threaten us all. I swear to do all I can to rid the world of the Unwoven for good, and the enemies we find in Despirrow and Forger a'

Rostigan and Yalenna had counselled him against mentioning either Salarkis or Karrak. Neither, they reasoned, seemed to be causing any harm. Maybe, Rostigan had even suggested, Karrak had simply never reappeared? At any rate, there was no need to conjure up more enemies, when the ones the people faced were already terrifying enough.

*a and then, only then, will our world be restored to rights. And to that end a'

Loppolo turned to Rostigan, whose stomach turned.

I would like to introduce you to the new commander of the army a That was what Yalenna had wanted. She had asked Rostigan to take the army under his wing, an unfortunate turn of phrase for the once-Lord of Crows. It was touching, he supposed, that she had grown to trust him enough to offer him such control, despite an army being the very thing with which he had once caused so much destruction. He, however, had convinced her it was a bad idea. Not only because he did not personally desire the responsibility but, in a practical sense, it would trap him when he and Yalenna needed to operate freely. She had seen the wisdom of that, and thus, what Loppolo actually said next was: *a I would hear from one who has fought alongside both Braston and myself, and who will fight with you all in the coming days. The hero who killed Stealer, a champion among champions * I give you, Rostigan Skullrender!'

Rostigan stepped forward. Loppolo did not really understand the importance of him speaking, because he did not know Rostigan's power to make words sink into people's heads. Yalenna, so afraid of losing their forces to despair at Braston's death, had asked him to consolidate their resolve, and use techniques that, once upon a time, he had wielded for all manner of ill purpose.

He was not sure she really understood what it was she asked of him.

She gave him a nudge, stirring him to speak.

*Greetings,' said Rostigan.

The crowd fell to a hush.

A part of him drifted into the deep place, tapping into memories of the calculating and manipulative Karrak, a man who had spoken with ease and confidence, who had convinced queens to war with kings. Who had stood before his own horde and sent out shockwaves of belief, slamming false words into the minds of good people, turning them to hateful minions.

He could do this. This was simple in comparison.

*The Unwoven gather,' he began. *You have heard the rumours, and they are true. Every day, more and more of them leave the Pass to terrorise the Plainsfolk. Soon they may break out in greater numbers, as they did once before. Some of the older soldiers will remember how we once pushed them back into the Dale * but unfortunately that was not enough. While they remain in this world, they will always be a danger.

*But it is not only the Unwoven who threaten. We face a fight on two fronts. We have reports that Forger marches again, his army on the way to Ander even as we speak.'

Dismay at this * it could even be that some of the folk present had journeyed all the way from Ander.

*Forger and Despirrow are also to blame for the breaking Spell.' And Yalenna, and Braston, and Salarkis and me. *They should never, by rights, have returned to Aorn. They bring with them a corruption worse than their own inherent evil. We have all seen the results of this. We have seen the sun blink, seen strange bruises in the sky. We have seen the leaves that don't stop spinning, never touch the ground. We have felt the ground quake. All is not well.' He paused. *I count it lucky, in these circumstances, to have such good people before me.'

A stir.

*Braston would not have wanted his death to stop us doing what is right. If you journeyed here in answer to his call, you are like me * not born in Althala. I stand with her army nonetheless, because I know that if I do not, the world will suffer. This is a battle that goes beyond kingdom, or fealty, or lines on a map. If we don't act, all will unravel, all threads unspun. We must not lose heart for Braston, but take heart in what he stood for.'

He raised his voice louder.

*So what will you do, people of Aorn? Will you hide in your houses, waiting for doom to come knocking? Or will you take up arms and fight our foes, be they Warden, or monster, or man, or Unwoven?'

The answering shouts grew in strength and number.

*We can only come through this as victors if we stand together. So, do we stand together?'

The shouts escalated to a roaring crescendo.

*Then we fight!' bellowed Rostigan, raising his sword. *By fire and wind, we fight until the world is safe again!'

As his blade directed the roaring heavenwards, Yalenna moved to stand beside him.

*You didn't use your gift,' she said softly.

Rostigan gave a small smile.

*The message is worthwhile,' he said. *I didn't have to.'

Yalenna watched the sunset from her room, aggrieved to take note, once again, of the shadowy bruising in the sky as the sun sank away behind the horizon.

After that, she was unsure of what to do with herself. The day's speechmaking had gone about as well as she had hoped, and she was exhausted after the valleys and peaks of emotion recently traversed. She was, however, too restless for sleep.

She had suggested to Rostigan that they have a drink or five, but he had gone off to be with Tarzi. Otherwise there was a dinner downstairs to commemorate the returning king * not exactly a merry feast, for even Loppolo had the wisdom not to celebrate too lavishly * but she did not in any way want to be there. She went to her quarters in the vague hope that Salarkis would be sitting in an armchair by the window, idly swishing his tail. She thought longingly about Mergan, whose friendship she greatly missed, but he too seemed lost to her.

As night set in, she decided she did not want to be alone in her quarters. They weren't really hers anyway, just rooms that she had been temporarily allocated. None of the furnishings were to her taste, and the bedspread and curtains were especially hideous. It was someone else's place, or maybe nobody's.

She left it.

Making her way downstairs, she could not help but pass the castle dining hall. To her satisfaction, almost relief, there issued forth no raucous laughter, nor even the clink of toasting glasses, but simply the buzz of low conversation. Was Jandryn in there? The thought almost tempted her to poke her head in, but she quickly decided against it.

She nodded to guards as she moved out the castle entrance into the square, in which a few servants still worked clearing up after the crowd. As a tattered piece of paper wafted along the ground, she paused for a moment to admire the particularly pretty breeze that carried it. Its ethereal threads flowed by her like reflected lines of light atop the surface of a river. She cupped a hand and caught them up, sent them twirling peacefully in a new direction. The Priestess of Storms * that was who she had been. Handling the elements was a talent she'd been born with, nothing to do with what she had taken from the Spell, and using it caused no corruption. She should remember that more often, she decided.

She crossed the square and entered the barracks dining hall. Kitchenhands moved along tables clearing up plates, and it seemed like dinner was mostly over. That said, there were still plenty of soldiers about, for two ale barrels stood against the wall and mugs were held in every hand. Most of the soldiers clustered about the fireplace at the far end of the room, listening to Tarzi telling some tale. As their bodies shifted, for a moment Yalenna saw Rostigan seated amidst them, looking constrained at best. The image Yalenna had brought with her, of her and him and maybe Tarzi sitting together sharing a companionable meal and pleasant conversation, faded.

*Priestess.'

It was Jandryn, coming towards her from the ale barrels. As he spoke, several others noticed her too, and she wished he had been quieter with his greeting. Still, it wasn't enough to distract Tarzi, and Yalenna found she was pleased to see the captain. He glanced at the brimming mug in his hand, seeming unsure what to do about it.

*Honestly, Jandryn,' she said, *you look like a puppy caught chewing the rug. Do you think I'd object to you taking a drink?'

*Er a no, my lady. I just don't want to be a disrespectful a on this troubled day.'

She quirked an eyebrow. *I tell you what I'd find disrespectful * having to stand here much longer without being offered a drink myself.'

He managed somehow to simultaneously start and look relieved.

*Right away, my lady!'

As he strode off on his new mission, Yalenna took in a few snatches of Tarzi's story. The minstrel was recounting the battle of Ilduin Fields, which featured Rostigan as the skull-crushing hero. No wonder he appeared so uncomfortable! When he glanced over and spotted Yalenna, evidently she was all the excuse he needed. He rose, trying to be as undisruptive as possible as he worked his way through the listeners. Despite his efforts, everyone, Tarzi included, noted his departure a but she just smiled, and her hand gestures grew more expansive until she held everyone's attention once more.

*Let us move away a little,' he said when he reached her side. *I grow tired of hearing my own name spoken.'

He led her to a seat a couple of tables away. She glanced around for Jandryn, who was returning from the barrels with two mugs. When he saw her sitting with Rostigan, there was a slight flicker in his eyes, but it passed quickly. Yalenna held up three fingers and he nodded, turning back to fetch another mug.

*Are you hungry?' Rostigan asked, loud enough for a nearby kitchenhand to hear.

*I am indeed,' she said gratefully.

Rostigan nodded at the kitchenhand, who bowed.

*I'll see what I can rustle up, my lady,' he said. *It might not be anything fancy.'

*Good,' said Yalenna.

*You know,' said Rostigan, once the man had left, *speaking of food, I've been meaning to tell you a I found some curltooth a while back.'

*Really? I heard that it's very rare these days. Not rare enough, though, as far as Braston's poisoners go.'

*A terrible way to use it,' agreed Rostigan. *Yet let us not forget the purpose we most commonly put it to. Remember the feast we had with King Alcrane, before the eight of us left for the Roshous?'

*Ah.' She sat back with a sigh, living for a moment in the happy memory.

*You're thinking,' he said, *about something you had it mixed with, aren't you?'

*Not what you'd expect, I'm sure.'

*A succulent piece of meat? An apple pie?'

She smiled. *Water.'

*Excuse me?'

*Water, taken fresh from the spring. Imagine that! Imagine the purest, most refreshing glass of water you've ever tasted.'

Rostigan chuckled. *I'll take the steak.'

Jandryn arrived with three frothing mugs.

*Come, good Captain,' said Rostigan, sliding over on his bench, *have a seat.'

*Thank you,' said Jandryn, sitting next to Rostigan and handing out the mugs. *That's an impressive tale your lady is spinning.' He cleared his throat and looked a little worried. *I mean, recounting.'

*I'm sure she adds a twirl or two,' said Rostigan, with a wink.

*No doubt a but your exploits are well known, of course * they are history and legend in Althala. It is an honour to drink with you.'

Rostigan gave a little nod. *Thank you.'

Now that they all sat there together, Yalenna found it difficult to know what to say. There had always been a structure to her and Jandryn's interactions, and she found the realm of small talk oddly disconcerting.

Apparently Jandryn had the same problem. *I have not heard the official count from the recruit's camp,' he offered, *but on cursory inspection it does not appear that many have deserted.'

*That's good to hear.'