"Seen anything unusual since you've been here?" Cyrus looked past J'anda into the room. A half dozen bedrolls were spread out on the floor, and in front of the window stood two members of Sanctuary, watching the street.

"Other than catching a glimpse of Vara's mother changing her clothes, no," Vaste replied.

"Yeesh," Cyrus replied with a cringe.

"It's okay," the troll said. "She may be a few millenia old, but she's still well put together."

"Don't...ever...tell Vara what you just told me."

"Do I look stupid to you?" Vaste stared down at Cyrus. "I have no desire to stick my head into that barrel of flaming oil." The troll sauntered over to a sofa and lowered himself onto it. "But isn't it reassuring that if ever you break through Vara's icy facade, even when you're old and falling apart, she'll still look as stunning and frightening as she does today? Hells, she'll look like that long after you're dead."

"Thanks for the morbid thought," Cyrus sent a sour look at the healer. "But I'm not interested in-" He halted mid-sentence, catching a look shared between the troll and the dark elf.

"Sure you're not," J'anda said without conviction.

"Tell me," Vaste began with practiced neutrality, "when you lie to yourself like that, does it sound true in your head? I mean...do you often provide escort for hundreds of miles to people in need?"

"If there's a threat of death, I would hope any of us would." Cyrus buried the faint pang of guilt he felt at lying.

"I see," Vaste said with a nod. "And the fact that you've been in mad love with her for two years had no influence on your decision to go?"

"I'm not here to talk about my feelings." Annoyance welled up in Cyrus. "Vara's father is ill and her mother is refusing to leave town." He rubbed his nose. "I have my doubts that she'll want to leave, knowing her mother won't go."

J'anda's eyebrows rose, alarm written on his soft features. "You need to convince her; staying here is suicide."

Cyrus looked across the room at the enchanter. "You've had experience convincing Vara to change her mind?"

"This is not a good place to stand against assassins making a bid to kill her."

"He's right," Vaste said. "We're too exposed."

"I'm not so sure," Cyrus said. "Endeavor has taken over the houses on either side and the one out back; I don't think you could get much safer than that."

"Agreed, but this is not a good spot for a fight," J'anda said with a shrug. "They could come from either direction on the street or through the yards in back-"

"Or they could drop down from a Gryphon," Cyrus added with a disinterest born of fatigue, "smash into the basement with a rock giant..."

J'anda and Vaste exchanged another look. "We, uh," the troll began, "hadn't even thought of most of those."

"Let's hope the Hand of Fear shares your lack of imagination."

"Maybe we've wiped them all out?" Vaste said with a note of hope. "Or done such damage to their numbers that they won't be able to mount an attack?"

Cyrus sighed. "I'm not going to operate from that assumption-I mean, they had a half dozen assassins in a village in the middle of nowhere in the southern plains, on the chance that we were going to pass through on the way to Termina." He shook his head. "No...more likely, they'll come tonight, under cover of darkness, because if they're watching, they know Vara is here now."

J'anda's eyes darted to look out at the street. "How do you think they'll do it?"

"Hard to say." Cyrus put his hands behind his head and leaned back. "You need to be ready to storm the house on a moment's notice."

"My mother will love that," Vara's voice came from the entryway.

Isabelle appeared at her side, glanced around the room and looked to Cyrus with a quizzical expression. "I don't mean to criticize, but don't you have more than two people?"

"We're so good, there's no point in having more," Vaste said.

Cyrus leaned back into the padding of the couch. "How's your father?"

"Sleeping. I'll speak to him when he wakes up." Vara looked around the living room. "We should probably be heading back; Isabelle just wanted to see our operation."

"I have seen it, and I pronounce it very satisfactory," Isabelle said. "If there is an attack, I have faith that you'll all distinguish yourselves brilliantly, just as you have in building Sanctuary's exemplary reputation over the last few years." Warmth oozed out of her every word, Cyrus reflected, amazed at the contrast between her and her sister and their respective abilities to put people at ease or discomfort.

"Wow, you're inspiring," Vaste said. "Can we trade Vara to Endeavor in exchange for you?" Ignoring the paladin's withering glare, he went on. "She hasn't said anything that nice to me in...uh...ever."

"Nor do I plan to," Vara said with a glance toward Cyrus. "Come on then. We're leaving."

Cyrus continued to sit on the couch until her words sunk in. "Wait, me?"

Vara let out a deep sigh. "Yes, you. Mother has consented to letting you stay with us for added protection."

"What heinous sin did I commit to deserve that?" Cyrus looked at her. "Listen, why don't you stay over here at night, away from your parents-and especially your mother. It'll be easier to protect you and you'll be able to go over there during the day with ease."

"Because I refuse to sleep in a common room with a group of men."

"This house has bedrooms," J'anda said. "You could have your own."

"I will not leave my parents unattended," she said, then turned to Cyrus. "Decide quickly if you're going to come with me."

He wrenched himself off the couch, leaving a deep imprint in several places from the edges of his armor. "I'm coming."

She nodded. "Very well. With myself, you and Isabelle, we should be able to hold off any assassins until reinforcements are able to reach us."

"Don't forget Mother," Isabelle said. "I sense that she misses being able to cast a fireball and hurl it at people."

"That explains a lot," Cyrus said, following Vara as she turned to leave. With a wave, Isabelle departed.

"Sleep tight!" Vaste called after Cyrus. "Don't let the vicious she-elves bite! Well, maybe one of them."

As he stepped back outside he almost bumped into Vara, who was waiting for him on the stoop. "You'll be sleeping in my room," she informed him.

He nodded. "All right."

"On the floor. I don't think I need to mention this," she said after a moment's hesitation, "but nothing will be happening between the two of us."

Cyrus felt his cheeks redden as he looked past Vara at Isabelle, who averted her eyes. "We've been on the road together for days, sleeping in close proximity. I think I can handle it without getting inappropriate."

"Yes, well..." Vara said, somewhat stiffly. "There's a vast difference between sharing a camp, sharing a room, and sharing a bed, and I don't want for there to be any misunderstandings between us."

"I get it." Cyrus's cheeks burned and he chanced to look at Isabelle again. Hers were also flushed, and she seemed to be studying the texture of the sidewalk. "I will conduct myself as a perfect gentleman."

"I am certain you will," she replied, turning away from him.

You can tell she was uncomfortable with that, he thought, because she didn't say, "For once."

"I doubt I'll do much resting anyway." He fell in line behind Vara. "They'll be coming tonight."

"We've come to the same conclusion," Isabelle said. "If these bastards are as bad as you've said, they'll have someone watching, and they'll have seen Vara by now, which makes it unlikely that they'll hesitate. I have most of my people sleeping now in preparation. We suspect they'll hit around midnight, hoping everyone will have gone to bed."

"I would have guessed after sundown," Cyrus replied. "But it could be any time. It's not like they've been reticent about attacking in the middle of the day."

"Regardless," Vara said, turning to face them as she reached the front steps of the house, "this fight will be different. My parents are to be protected at all costs. I will not have them be killed or used as leverage against me." Her jaw was set. "If these assassins are coming tonight, we face them, we kill them-then we get Father well and get the hell out of here."

Chapter 15.

Night fell as if it were the slow drip of dark coffee filtering into a mug, Cyrus thought as he peeked once more out of a second story window onto the street below. Lamps were lit every hundred feet and in the dim light he could see Thad and a handful of others from both Sanctuary and Endeavor lingering on the stones below.

Replacing the curtain, he turned to look around the sitting room. The house was three floors and a cellar; Vara's parents had their bedroom on the top floor, Vara and Isabelle were housed on the second floor, along with a generous living space and bathrooms with running water.

Vara sat behind him, eyes looking toward the stairwell leading up to the third floor. Isabelle sat opposite her, legs crossed, leaning back, eyes closed in deep thought. Cyrus's gaze lingered on her; the healer's traditional white robes were tighter than those worn by Curatio or Vaste and much more flattering. Isabelle was fit, like her younger sister, but her hair was worn loose around the shoulders. In human years, she and Vara looked to be of comparable ages though in fact he knew Isabelle was almost two centuries the elder.

His eyes came to rest on the hem of her robes, then the well-stitched and elegant leather boots she wore that carried not a speck of mud. He brought his gaze back up to find her looking back at him, a sly smile draped across her lips. "We do look quite a bit alike, don't we? I mean, excepting the differing attire."

"What?" Vara's head snapped up.

"Somewhat," Cyrus said, recovering quickly from being caught looking. "But you've got a much more mischievous air about you, more relaxed and less..."

"Tense?" Isabelle looked to her sister. "She'll calm down in a hundred years or so."

"I am not tense," Vara said. "Well, perhaps now I am, seeing as there are people trying to kill me, but on a normal day-"

"You're tense, little sister. I could place my stave in the crack between your butt cheeks and it would snap in two, that's how stiff you are. And it's not a recent problem."

"You do seem a bit tense, dear," Chirenya's voice came from the stairs as she descended from the floor above. "Perhaps your ox isn't doing his job properly; you're supposed to be more tranquil afterward."

"I'm just here to protect her," Cyrus said.

"Oh, yes, and I'm the younger sister of these two, not their mother," Chirenya breezed as she continued down the stairs to the first floor.

Vara returned to her watch of the stairs, lost in thought. Isabelle stared around, languid.

"Did you come here from Reikonos?" Cyrus caught the healer's gaze.

She nodded. "Why?"

"I was wondering how the war was going."

"I suppose you haven't heard all the latest, being on the run as you were."

"Didn't always hear it before that; most of what we heard was about the dark elf movements against the southwest part of the Confederation. I have no idea what's happening around Reikonos, in the north or the Riverlands."

Isabelle stared back at him, cool. "What have you heard?"

Cyrus took a deep breath. "Prehorta got sacked, hard. Survivors said most of the townsfolk fled long before the dark elves got there, but they burned everything and left a garrison force to block trade with the Confederation from the southern Plains of Perdamun. Haven't heard anything since then."

Isabelle took in a deep breath. "It's not been pretty. Since then that particular dark elf army-somewhere in the neighborhood of 100,000 strong-has moved to Idiarna and sacked it."

Cyrus exchanged a look with Vara. "That's the biggest town between Prehorta and Santir."

"Yes. It would seem the dark elves mean to cut off the Confederation from the southern plains."

"They haven't come for Reikonos yet?"

"No." She shook her head. "The Confederation army has held a firm line against any advances north of the Waking Woods and the dark elves haven't bothered to drive east to the Riverlands or sneak past Lake Magnus to hit the Northlands yet. They've focused everything on the southwest; on cutting off the Plains of Perdamun."

"Seems an odd choice," Chirenya's voice came from the stairs again. In her hands was a plate of meats and cheeses, which she carried over and sat on the table between Vara and Isabelle. "Wouldn't it make more sense to throw everything they have at their enemy capital and knock them flat? Without Reikonos, the Human Confederation becomes a bunch of squabbling little provinces that lack any coordinated ability to fight back."

"I think that is the plan," Isabelle said. "But rather than try to hammer through the defenses around the city-which are considerable-the dark elves have chosen a roundabout way. Perhaps they don't wish to lose all the forces they'd have to commit to a direct assault of the capital, or perhaps they hope to force the humans into a surrender without ever laying siege to Reikonos. Whatever the case, cutting them off from the southern plains is brilliant; at least half the capital's grain supply comes from there with the other half coming from the Riverlands."

"Starve them out, eh?" Chirenya's voice was laced with disdain. "Reminds me all too much of the last war."

Cyrus looked at her face, mottled with a simmering resentment. "How did that go?"

"We won, of course," she said, not bothering to look at him. "But it was a brutal war, and the dark elves never go about anything directly. They didn't come at Pharesia then, either-of course they were more spread out back then; they had cities and towns all throughout the southern plains and the Waking Woods, even in places as far flung as what you humans now claim in the Northlands and Riverlands. They had more to defend than they do now."

Cyrus furrowed his brow. "If they had all these settlements, what happened to them?"

"Abandoned after the last war," Isabelle replied. "In a great wave, the dark elves retreated from everything, claimed their borders encompassed the Waking Woods and retreated into the depths of Saekaj Sovar. It's only been in the last twenty years or so that they've started to emerge again." She chuckled. "For a time, if you saw a dark elf anywhere, it was a rare sight."

"But before the war started-this one, I mean," Cyrus said, "there were enormous numbers of dark elves in Reikonos. We have many in Sanctuary-"

"Indeed, we have some here in Termina and I've heard there are even a few in Pharesia," Chirenya said. "As Isabelle says, all fairly recent. Well, at least on the timescale of an elven life," she said, her final words carrying an edge aimed at him. "I suppose you were just a child when they began to reemerge into the world in numbers."

"So was I, Mother," Vara said.

"Yeah, she's only older than me by a year," Cyrus said.

"And more mature by only a millennium." Vara's impassive face cracked as she looked sidelong at him.

"Regardless, it's an ugly thing, what's happening to the humans," Chirenya said with a sniff. "Though I suppose if your government hadn't been quite so arrogant in sending their forces into the plains, it wouldn't have happened." Cyrus bristled, but bit back his first response-that the elven kingdom had an army present when the war began. "I'm just glad that the King recognizes that it's in no one's interest if the dark elves win the war with your people."

So irritated was Cyrus that it took him a moment to realize what she'd said. "The King recognizes that? How so?"