The doors opened to the hall behind them, a slow creak of the hinges as Erith Frostmoor entered the chamber, her white hair bound behind her in a long braid, her robes tattered, the white thread now brown and smudged. aThe hour is over,a she said as she took her seat, as though it were an explanation of itself.

aThe hour is a what?a Vara asked her with a cocked eyebrow.

aIs over,a Erith said, her usual mischief faded, her eyes weighed down in hard lines, lips tight, the purple flesh that made them stand out from the blue skin of her face tightly compacted in a line that wavered. aThe hour we have to resurrect people who might have been killed in the tower collapse is up, and they were still pulling bodies out of the stone when I left a few minutes ago.a She lowered her eyes. aIt looks like a quarry where it came down, piles of block everywhere, and you can still hear moans and cries from inside, so all hope is not lost, but aa aA terrible day,a Alaric pronounced. aTo see so many of our brethren fall in a battle that we didnat even truly partake in. How many unaccounted for?a aEighteen,a Erith said, her head hanging. aSome yet live, and our strongest are working to unearth them, but some are certainly lost. Then there are the consequences of the collapse. It looks like someone took the corner of the building and dragged it down, exposing all the lower floors to the air and elements. Youall have to have someone more familiar with design tell you how that will affect things. Weave lost a good many quarters, though, I can tell you that much.a aWe have empty housing enough,a Vaste said. aNot to marginalize the loss of the tower or the deaths, which are unpleasant, no doubt, but we will make do. The bigger concern is if the dark elves come again, with more men, more war machines.a aThe Sovereign is unpredictable yet spiteful,a Alaric said, still holding himself to his seat, pensive. aYes, I think it might be wise to have you speak to your sister about the waras progress,a he said with a nod to Vara. aWe need to know what to expect, what will be coming and how it will hit us.a He brought his hands around to steeple in front of his face. aYou will go immediately, and return as soon as possible.a aVery well,a Vara said, and began to stand.

aHold,a Ryin said. aI will take you to Reikonos, but there is one last thing I have to report.a aOh, good,a Vara said, lowering herself back into her chair. aBecause you werenat overly dramatic enough with any of the other information you brought us. What pointless drivel have you left toa"a aTerian,a Ryin said, and Vara stopped speaking, a knifeblade cutting into her under the armor, as though something unseen had stabbed her.

aWhat about him?a Alaric said, stiff, shifting in his seat to focus attention on Ryin.

aHe attempted to kill Cyrus while they were on the northern expedition.a aAttempted to kill him?a Erith said with mild surprise. aWhat, did he cook his infamous vekatag casserole again? Because that isnat technically an attempt to kill, though your digestive tract wonat know the difference.a aIt goes somewhat beyond cooking,a Ryin said archly.

aNot many non-dark elven palates can handle that spider-meat your people consume like some of us eat chicken,a Vaste said, chiming in, athough Iave always found vekatag to be something of a delight.a aShut up,a Vara said, her voice only a whisper. How could he have known?

aWhat?a Vaste said, watching her. aYou canat seriously mean that Terian would actually try to kill Cyrus? This must surely be some sort ofa"a aIt is no mistake,a Ayend said. aIt was deliberate, plotted. He cursed Cyrus and slit the throat of his horse while he was on the run from the scourge. Save for the efforts of Aisling and Mendicant, he would have died.a aThey saved him?a Vara said, and her voice cracked slightly.

If Ryin noticed, he did not call attention to it. aIt was how Cyrus and Aisling discovered the origin of the scourge. They became entrapped behind enemy lines together for several days after their retreat was cut off.a aHow a fortuitous that she was able to save him,a Vara managed to choke out.

aYes, you sound extremely pleased that she was able to risk her life in order to spare him from our guildmateas treachery,a Vaste said. aBut if I may observe, you and Alaric seem unsurprised that Terian would try such a thing. Whereas I am shocked, and there is little that shocks me, aside from the smell that comes from Erithas quarters.a Erith flushed a deeper blue. aIam not much of a housekeeper.a Vaste snorted. aAnd they say that trolls smell. But that is neither here nor there. The point remains that our esteemed Guildmaster and fellow officer seem to know something of this that the rest of us do not.a aWhile in Termina, defending the bridge,a Vara began, aCyrus killed a dark knight. He was Terianas father.a aOh, dear,a Vaste said, his green face wiped clear of amusement for once, and his mouth open into an aoa that was distorted by his ungainly teeth. aThe sword.a aWhat sword?a Alaric said, leaning forward now.

aAisling brought the sword of that dark knight back to Sanctuary,a Vaste said, and shifted to one side in the chair. aShe carried it with her in the escape and presented it to Cyrus as a trophy of his accomplishment.a aHis accomplishment?a Vara leaned onto the table. aI fought the bloody bastard almost to the death before Cyrus stabbed him in the backa"a aLet us keep sight of what has happened here,a Alaric said gravely. aTerian discovered a truth we hoped he would not find out until we could comfortably present it to him here, in carefully controlled circumstances.a aIt would appear the circumstances have spiralled far, far out of your control,a Erith said with a furrowed brow.

aYes, and your predictive powers are usually spot-on,a Vaste said mildly. aI suppose weare all allowed a failure of judgment every now and again.a aIt was not a failure of judgment,a Alaric whispered, ait was a failure of communication. I saw no way for him to know that his father had died, and so I worried not about it but of the myriad of other things we have to deal with. Had I known, I could have predicted his response, the slyness of it, the wait, the consideration. Terian is many thingsa"conflicted, devious, somewhat colda"but revenge is not out of the question for him. If he knew what had happened, I would have assumed vengeance could follow, in its own time, and that it would be in a manner of his choosing.a aAm I the only one wondering why you brought him back after he left the guild, then?a Ryin asked. aIf you knew he was this dangerous?a There was a pause, stark and quiet. aBecause danger is not all there is to Terian,a Alaric said, aand there is good in him, enough to outweigh the baser desires, should he have the right a outlet.a aHeas a menace,a Vara said, and the words surprised her, aand now a murderer, it seems.a aIt seems,a Alaric said. aBut there are no innocents at this table, remember that. Our profession is the sword and shield, but I note that none of you choose to use a shield.a aI use a shield all the time,a Vaste said, abut I call it Vara, and it squirms when I force it to absorb the blows of my angry enemies. Also, it speaks harshly to me sometimes.a Vara felt the snap of heat across her cheeks. aThis is hardly the time for humor, you fool. We have too many problems for you to sit here and make light of every one of them!a aIave got the time,a Vaste said. aWhat else would I be doing? Trying to solve them? Theyare a world away! Silly idea, that.a aEnough,a Alaric said quietly and turned back to Ryin. aWhy did Cyrus not send Terian back with you?a Ryin started to speak, then stopped. aI donat know. He was in something of a hurry to go meet with the army and prepare them to move. Iam certain it slipped his mind.a aIt slipped his mind to send a dangerous prisoner who wants him dead back to a place where he could be held with some modicum of security in our dungeons?a Vara asked, incredulous. aI shouldnat be surprised, his head as full of pudding as it is, but here we are, nonetheless aa Erithas eyes narrowed. aIt doesnat sound as though Cyrus is functioning at a terribly high level to have overlooked something so elementary as that, even after a few months away. And to remain out of contact for as long as he has with all this going on aa She shook her head. aHeas under duress, Iam sure.a aVara,a Alaric said, aif you could speak with your sister, that would be helpful to us in planning our next move.a aYes,a she said, avery well,a and stood up. Ryin matched her across the table. aDo warn the army guarding the foyer that we will return, likely in the middle of the night at this point, and so if they could be generous and give us a momentas hesitation before trying to impale us, it would be appreciated.a aYouare not capable of anything so mild as appreciation,a Vaste said, aonly lesser stages of ire and woe.a aYou know nothing of my lesser stages of ire and woe, not being a recipient of anything but the higher stages yourself.a aOnce they get past a certain point,a Vaste said with a shrug, atheyare more like fury and misery, but really, whoas keeping track?a aYou are, you greena"a aEnough already!a Alaric said and brought his fist down upon the table with a clatter that sent the empty metal cup sitting in front of him over and sideways, spilling the little remaining liquid therein on the old finish of the Council table. aOur guildmates are in danger, we are under siege, we have unleashed a plague upon another land and lack the resources to help them effectively. Yet still the four of you that remain argue like small children over who got the greater portion of the sweetroll. Well, let me say this, childrena"a He whipped his head around to favor each of them with a glare from where he stood now, looking down at them, athere is little sweet about our current predicament. If you want to bicker and whine, resign your position as officers, leave Sanctuary for a safe place, like Fertiss, and pick at each other for the better part of every day while the world continues to descend into chaos safely out of your sight.a Alaric stiffened in his battered armor, the dark green tinge to it looking almost black in the cloudy light filtering in from behind him. aBut if you mean to make a difference and live up to the mission of this guild, put your humor aside and let us work to end this siege, so we can make good on repairing the consequences of our error in killing Mortus.a With that, Alaric grabbed his helm and put it on his head, straightening it so that the slits where his eyes were visible were shadowed and Vara could see only the hint that he was behind them. aThe time for light-hearted fun is over; these are dark times, perhaps darker than we can safely bear. This is a time for adults, for the things of grown-ups, for battles, a time to leave the simpering humor behind as we struggle with our burdens. The hour grows late, and for the young, it is past your bedtime. Leave us, if you want no part of serious things. But for those who remain a go to work.a With that, he became insubstantial, a fog that rolled toward the doors behind him and out of the balcony, disappearing over the edge in a fine mist, as though the air outside were reabsorbing him.

aSo aa Vaste said, as the four of them stared out the window at the exit of their Guildmaster. aWho put the caltrops in Alaricas chair today?a Vara turned from the table, casting a look at Ryin, who nodded and followed her to the space in front of the door. aPerhaps it was something you said,a she told Vaste, who remained in his chair with a look of quiet unconcern. aOr perhaps it was everything you say.a The winds began to pick up around them, stirring the stuffy air in the Council Chambers. Vaste said nothing as the maelstrom of the teleportation spell caused the walls to dissolve around her, and the last thing of Sanctuary she saw was the trollas green face, a secondas hesitation showing in the puckered brow and downturned lips as the whirlwind carried her far, far away from him.

Chapter 44.

Reikonos was a town astir, the streets quiet and yet frenzied, the long stretches of thatched-roof homes canceled out by the bigger buildings with wooden beams making up their construction. It was a hodgepodge of old and new, of stone buildings and wood shacks, and the streets were both calm and chaotic in alternating segments. Vara walked along with Ryin trailing a few steps behind her as they headed toward the southern central gate through the cityas walls. The sun seemed to be higher in the sky here than it had been at Sanctuary, and there were few enough clouds that the late afternoon warmth was still present and cooked her in her armor as she moved through the quiet then the chaos.

aLines,a Ryin said, afor the communal ovens.a The druid was right, though she didnat want to acknowledge it. There were clusters of people, women mostly, around the places where there were ovens for public use. Not everyone has their own, after all, as this is not Termina. A rueful thought occurred. Even Termina is unlikely to have those things, now. aIn time of war, meat must surely be limited, so daily bread is likely the cornerstone of their diet at this point.a aIf theyare just getting to the ovens at this time of day, itas going to be a late supper,a she said.

aTrue enough.a He came alongside her, trying to match her pace. aBut I suspect that the grain shipments put them at the mercy of whichever merchant has some that daya"thereas likely a line for that as well. Rationing, shortages, all that.a aWhat fun,a was all she said and tightly at that.

The street vendors who were normally set up on this, the busiest thoroughfare in the city, were noticeably absent this day, giving the streets an even more abandoned feel, quieter than she had seen even in the years she had lived in the city. Cyrus would not like this, not at all, came the thought, as unbidden as it was frustrating. She increased her speed, pumping her legs to a faster walk, as though she could somehow leave that line of thinking behind if she were to just walk fast enough to outpace it.

Ryin kept up, his superior height his only saving grace. The walk was long, and the walls of the city came into sight after a while, tall, grey stone that rose up in a curtain wall around the buildings nestled within. It was nowhere near as high as the one built around the elven capital of Pharesia, but it still stuck a hundred and fifty feet in the air and circled for miles in either direction, a monumental effort of stonework that gave the city a washed, sandstone look that was out of place in the more northern environs where one expected darker stonea"for some reason she couldnat define.

The southern gate was open, enormous, wide enough for fifty men to walk astride through it and even for a few elephants to be carted out simultaneously on each otheras shoulders, as Vara had seen once in a magic circus when she was younger. There was little enough traffic on the road by this point; the ovens were all well back in the city, and the houses closest to the gate became more of the ramshackle variety and less of the carefully orchestrated stone, the roofs declining in average height precipitously and the woodwork growing older and older as they went. Who lives here? she wondered. The guards that man the walls, likely, if theyare not housed in barracks. Farmers who work just outside the gates, perhaps? Working people, not merchants, who would be near the markets and shops. Not quite the poor, but not the wealthy or aristocratic.

They passed beneath the gates and under the wall, which stretched almost a hundred feet from entry to exit. She stared up into the faces of guards who looked down on them, bows at the ready in case some trick was attempted, some effort at siege tried. Guards milled about in the passage under the gate as well, picking at the wagons and people trying to pass through. She and Ayend, on their way out, garnered nothing but a few suspicious looks from the men in armor and pointed helms, their spears and swords aimed at those trying to gain entry into the city and unconcerned with those attempting exit.

The horizon was darkening in blue as they emerged from under the portcullis and the whole world opened up around them. There had been shanty houses creeping toward the outer walls for some time, but some enterprising soula"probably that bastard Pretnam Urides and his laughable Council of Twelvea"had had them burned, and all that remained was twisted wreckage, scorched wood and little else, a graveyard of destroyed hovels for hundreds of yards around the walls of the city. They followed the dirt path onward, the vegetation sparse in this well-trodden area, with all the trees and grass that had grown nearby charred by the flames.

The walk was over an hour, and the road grew more congested toward the end. There were tents about, plenty of them, old, billowing, lined neatly along the rolling hills of the city outskirts. There were farmhouses, too, older ones that had been commandeered by the army, and troops marched in formations up and down the road. Vara stopped and asked the captain of one of them about the guild Endeavor and was pointed down the road. aAnother mile, perhaps two. Theyare toward the front, but thereas several miles between us and the enemy positions,a the captain said, weeks of beard growth on his tanned face. aBeen like that for a few months, staring across at them, but theyare not moving right now.a aThank you,a Vara said simply and went on, Ryin in tow. When they passed the last ranks of horsemen and began to see the armor take on a fancier sheen and the weapons carry the glow of mystical power, she knew they were close. The tents were less weathered and between the combatants being better attired and the presence of attendants whose sole purpose appeared to be serving the fighters rather than engaging in any sort of battle themselves, she veered from the road and asked only one skeptical warrior for direction before she was pointed to the largest tent in view, one with a flag out front on a pike.

Vara approached with a slow, steady walk, eyeing the troll guards as they stared back at her, assessing. aMy name is Vara,a she said, holding her position a good twenty feet from the front flap entry of the tent. The tent was enormous, at least fifteen feet high at the center, circular, and large enough to house thirty men under it. aI am here to speak with Isabelle of Endeavor.a The troll on her left grunted, his armor a poor fit for his oversized bulk. He was close to twice her height, and his grunt brought with it a foul odor, even at the distance she had maintained. She curled her nose and held a hand in front of it. Trolls. I forget sometimes how civilized Vaste is compared to some of their number.

aNo see,a said the troll on her right, marginally shorter than the other, but with eyes that burned with slightly more intelligence. aMiss Isabelle not to be disturbed.a aI can see from your grasp of the human language that weare about to reach a tragic impasse in this discussion,a Vara said, narrowly avoiding folding her arms in front of her, instead keeping her hand at a little distance from the hilt of her sword where it rested on her belt. aLet me state this again, for those of us in this conversation whose brains are not quite the equal of their bulka"I am here to see Isabelle. Is she inside?a The troll on the left reached for his sword and had it drawn quicker than she thought would be possible, though his feet had yet to move into any sort of offensive posture. The one on the right made no such move, did not change expression, but held his ground. aShe no see youa"a aIall see her,a came a voice as the tent flap was raised. A blond elf emerged into the daylight with a blinking countenance marking her otherwise smooth and timeless features. Her robes were flawless white, she was perfectly groomed and would not have been at all out of place in a ballroom. Even here, on the battlefield, Isabelle has an unflappable air about her, as though she werenat presently standing on ground trodden by soldiers and surrounded by armies but instead was far away, at a society party. She even wears a tiara, Vara thought, looking at the simple golden circlet atop her sisteras blond locks, rubies and sapphires crowning it. aCome in, dear sister,a Isabelle said, holding the flap, aand your guest too, if head like.a aWait here,a Vara said to Ryin without looking back at him. She made her way between the towering trolls, who both moved aside, their dull, steel-plated armor catching the glint of the sunas light as she passed. She grasped the tent flap herself and indicated to Isabelle to step back inside with a simple hand gesture. Isabelle smiled in amusement and did so without any comment, as Vara followed her in and let the flap fall behind her.

aYou pick an interesting time to visit,a Isabelle said, making her way into the open area at the center of the tent. aBut then, you always did have a sense for timing.a aGood or ill?a Vara asked, letting the smell of the tent overwhelm her. It carried a whiff of incense; not too heavy, but present, enough to overwhelm the smells of the encampment around them and all the waste that came with it. A simple bed lay in the corner, a mattress with heavy pillows on it, all in good order. A table was deployed in the middle of the tent with folding chairs around it. A few stands littered the perimeter of the tent, and a blanket lined the floor, clean and neat, and padded enough to take the hardness out of each step. Vara felt the impact softened within her armored boots and tried to brush off the irritation at her sisteras accomodations. I canat recall ever traveling in quite this high a style, not even when I was an officer in Amarathas Raiders.

aGood timing,a Isabelle said, reaching toward a bowl of apples set upon the center table. aHungry?a aNo.a aYou donat approve of my accouterments,a Isabelle said, and that damnable amusement was still there, the faint tug at the corners of her mouth and the sparkle in her eye. aThe little luxuries Iam afforded as an officer of Endeavor.a aOh, yes, you live in grand style for someone at the front line of the greatest war Arkaria has seen in centuries,a Vara said, brusque. aVery fine, indeed.a aThis bothers you a why?a If Isabelle was annoyed by her sisteras attitude, she showed it little or none, and Vara was quite used to the subtlety of her older sisteras emotions. Glacier-cool, she is. Which is why she is so annoying.

aI care not at all how you live while at war,a Vara said, aonly that you continue to do so.a aConcern, sister dear?a Isabelle picked the apple off the top of the pile and took a bite, a long, satisfying crunch. aHas the loss of our parents mellowed you at last?a Vara bristled. aI have always cared for my family.a aAnd always been exceptionally poor at showing it,a Isabelle said around a mouthful of apple. aNot that I havenat appreciated the years of scorn through my attempts to cultivate a relationship with you.a Well, Iam here now, you spotted cow, Vara thought, but did not say. Instead, she said, aI appreciate your forbearance during my more difficult periods of interaction.a aThat would be your whole life, dear,a Isabelle said gently, abut nevermind that, I suppose. What brings you to me now? Not a sense of familial loneliness, I suspect.a aThe war,a Vara said.

aOf course.a There was a flicker in Isabelleas eyes, tired, and the smile faded as she held the apple in her hand then gave it a look as though it had lost its appeal. aThis war consumes everything, and the attention of all. So what of it? What do you need?a aNews more than anything,a Vara said and let herself take a step closer to Isabelle. aHow goes the front here? Is the Sovereign pushing his troops forward?a Isabelle surveyed her sister with a demeanor almost more stoic than Vara herself could manage. aNo. Not at present. Why do you ask?a Vara considered for just the briefest space of time lying. To say something other than the truth might be preferable to letting Isabelle know, after all. But for Isabelle, it mattered little becausea"she always knew anyway. aWeave been besieged. They surrounded our walls and threw an army at usa"a aThe one that sacked Aloakna,a Isabelle said wisely. All two-hundred-plus years of her sisteras sageness were on display now, and Vara felt more than a rush of irritation. aYes, that makes sense, revenge for Termina.a aThank you for your insightful analysis,a Vara said. aWe broke them, of coursea"a aOf course,a Isabelle said with the trace of a smile.

aOh, stop going on about it as though it were some sort of foregone conclusion,a Vara said. aThere were some fifty thousand of them, and our number is much reduced of latea"a aWhy?a Isabelle asked, and took a walk sideways, eyes facing on a perpendicular line, as though she didnat even care to look at Vara. aWhy are your numbers reduced while your star is on the rise? Even here, the talk is of Sanctuary, and your slaughter of Mortus. Killing a god?a She cocked her head at Vara, and smiled slyly. aNo one even thought it was possible, let alone that you would be strong enough to attempt it and crazy enough to try.a aThis is irrelevant,a Vara said, stubborn irritation clawing at her. aYes, our recruiting numbers were up, until the blockade a week ago, and yes, people had been streaming to us in record number for protection and to join us, buta"a aBut Cyrus Davidon left,a Isabelle said, stopping at a fold in the tent and pulling aside the fabric to look out, ataking an army with him, and vanishing over the Endless Bridge with both a strong corps of your best veterans and possibly your heart, should such an object exist.a There was a quiet in the tent, a silence and chill unadmitted by the opening of the side to the air. aYou bitch,a Vara said.

Isabelle let the fabric fold back on itself and fall free of her hands, letting the side of the tent close. aYou have a quite the grasp of the human language, sister. There was a time when you were content to swear at me in elvish.a aIam expanding my horizons,a Vara said.

aYouare in love with a human,a Isabelle replied. aAnd you are not even willing to admit it to yourself.a aThis is all off the table for discussion,a Vara said. aYes, Cyrus Davidon went on a mission to aid one of our guildmates across the Sea of Carmas. Yes, heas been gone for several months. I need to know if the Sovereign is moving because hea"Cyrus, I meana"is in need of aid in Luukessia and we canat strip anything from Sanctuaryas defense unless weare certain that the Sovereignas armies are fully engaged elsewherea"a aTheyare not,a Isabelle said quietly. aThis front has been quiet for nigh on a month and not from any stinging defeats weave dealt to the dark elves, that I can assure you. Our contacts with the Elven Kingdoma"on a daily basis, in case you wondera"indicate no serious offensives along the Perda, either, not at Termina or anywhere else. The Sovereign waits and has removed some of his forces from both of these fronts, reshuffling them elsewhere.a She gave a little shrug. aPerhaps he directs them to the east, toward the Riverlands.a Her face darkened in the shadow of the tent. aBut I would suspect not.a Vara waited, just for a beat, before she asked the question that tore at her. aWhat do you suspect?a aThat the vekatag herds in Saekaj that have supplied the meat that has filled the bellies of the dark elven army are running thin enough that they may not be viable if the herds continue to be killed at this aggressive pace,a Isabelle said, without a trace of care, aand that the mushrooms and roots and other crops that grow in the gardens of those caves are insufficient to feed the war machine that the Sovereign is grinding out at present. That the supply lines run thin and he has turned an eye toward an easy, almost-undefended prize to remedy that problema"and its name is the Plains of Perdamun.a She didnat smile, exactly, but gave her sister an almost-cringe, as though the knowledge caused her pain. aIt is the opinion of the Confederationas governmenta"and the Elven Kingdomas as wella"that the Sovereign is moving troops into place to take the southern plains, to destroy anything that stands between him and the rich crop lands that could feed his empire and his armies, as we move now closer to the harvest.a aAnd Sanctuary is what stands between him and that resource?a Vara let the air hiss out of her, not really surprised but neither pleased.

aThe fact that he can claim revenge for the action in Termina will be no small bonus,a Isabelle said, aand there are countless dark knights in his army who had allegiance to Mortus, which might motivate them in some measure.a Vara tried to think through the swirl of new information filling her mind. aI have not nearly enough availablea"Sanctuary has not nearly enough available to counter this threat to the Plains. But youa"a She took a step toward her sister. aIf you and the Human Confederation attacked now, struck back at the Sovereigntyas army here, it would force them toa"a aA good stratagem,a Isabelle cut her off. aA worthy idea. Were I in charge, I would pursue that strategy, though not just to try and help my sister but to deny the Sovereignty something they need to continue the war.a She drew up short. aHowever, I am not in charge of the war effort. Indeed, I am not even consulted. My guild remains at the mercy of the Council of Twelve, though,a she drew a short smile, athanks to other events, that power wanes by the day.a Vara felt the air go out of her, all her energy in one giant exhalation. aYou tell me the Sovereign is marshalling his forces, pulling them away from the fronts he has pressed since the beginning. Well, they do not go north and they do not go west, nor do they appear to be heading east. My guild is south, is all that remains in the south. What am I to do, Isabelle? They hold the majority of the Plains already, uncontested because we lack the power to project our forces north to drive them back, and because no other army exists that could or would do so. I sit in the middle of the territory that he wants, this Sovereign, this gutless bastard who sits on the throne in Saekaj,a she watched Isabelleas eye lashes bat a little at that, aand you tell me heas coming, and what am I to do?a aI have seen your guildhall,a Isabelle said carefully and took a step toward Vara, holding herself just slightly out of armas reach. aWith some ingenuity, with some effort, I believe you could hold out against any magic and any army that the Sovereign might throw at you. Especially with the numbers you describe, you could hold it indefinitely with supplies of conjured bread and watera"a aAnd weall have nothing to help Cyrus with, and heall die across the sea fighting some unholy scourge that will devour his stubborn arse whole and choke on it!a Vara felt the words come rushing out. aOf course it will end up gagging on such a large and ridiculously stupid morsel, but heall be dead nonetheless.a She felt it expelled, the hot flush it brought to her cheeks to have said it, and when Isabelle pulled out a chair and slid it invitingly toward her she sat down on it, heavily, and leaned her elbow on the table. Isabelle took the seat next to her, sitting almost knee to knee with her, the incense in the tent reaching an almost overpowering level, even though it had changed not at all since she arrived.

aSo we come to the truth at last,a Isabelleas steady blue eyes flashed at Vara; they were cooler than her own, more reflective of Isabelleas deliberative personality. aYou worry about the safety of your guild, but you worry more about the fate of youra"a aDo not say it.a Vara felt her hands come to her face automatically, as though she could hide her shame by covering her cheeks and closing her eyes. aI donat need to hear it aloud. Again.a aYou fear for him.a The words were calm and yet infuriating, as though they contained a slap to the face buried within. aYouare afraid healla"a aDie, yes,a Vara said, and the effusive heat came back, athat heall die in that foreign land, that heall be ripped apart by these creatures they sent word about, these things that were unleashed from the Realm of Death. Iam afraid that heall stay in the fight long past the time when reason should tell him to bow out, because he feels guilty about letting them loose. Because ofa"oh, dammit!a"because of me. Because he saved me, and because I sent him over there, practically drove him over there.a She felt the burning of the words in her mouth. aWell damn it, damn them, damn him, and damn me, too.a She looked up and caught only the faintest glint of amusement in Isabelleas face. aI donat wish to discuss this any further.a aNo, I imagine you wouldnat.a Isabelle averted her eyes for a moment and looked to the bowl of apples. aIt hasnat been easy, has it? With Father and Mother gone?a aI rarely went home,a Vara said. aI barely notice, with all the things going ona"a aOh?a aDonat be irritating.a Vara let the words come out seething. aI shouldnat say I donat notice. I might phrase it differently. There are many distractions, especially of late. When I think of them, I feela"a Vara rolled her eyes at her own weakness. aGuilty. I feel guilty for not paying homage to their memory. For not weeping in a corner. For feeling more distressed about the departure of some lunkhead warrior who will die in a mere century versus the loss of aa A warm gasp came loose then. aThey lived for thousands of years, and to come to such an abrupta"especially for mothera"untimely, unexpecteda"a aShe fought for Termina,a Isabelle said quietly. aShe fought for you.a aShe died for me,a Vara said, meeting her sisteras gaze. aItas becoming a pattern, people dying for me, killing for me, and consequences I donat care for spinning out of these actions. I should like it to end.a aThere is only one end,a Isabelle said, aand that has some rather definite consequences of its own that I donat think youad care for, either. Those dead are passed, and only one of these people remains to be saved, and that is Cyrus Davidon.a aI canat save Cyrus Davidon,a Vara said, and then felt her teeth grit themselves, her jaw tensing. aI canat send anyone to help Cyrus, not with the Sovereign making his move all around Sanctuary. If it is as you say it is,a she shook her head. aMy course is clear. I must defend Sanctuary. It is the higher duty to which I owe my allegiance. More than venturing overseas on some foolas errand to throw myself into another war.a She straightened up in her chair and heard the creak of her armor plating as she did so. aI have enough war to cope with here in Arkaria.a aAnd if he dies?a Isabelle asked, and her fingers delicately touched the candle that rested on the table, letting the hot wax fall across her finger.

aThen he dies,a Vara said, and ignored the screaming voice deep within, the one that wanted to throw her body to the ground and rail against it being so. aIt will happen sooner or later anyway, there is little I can do to prevent that.a aYou havenat asked my opinion,a Isabelle said, rubbing a little wax between her thumb and forefinger, abut my prerogative now as head of the family is that I will give it, and it is thusa"a aOh, good,a Vara said under her breath.

aYou should go to Luukessia. You will regret it if something happens to him and you are not there. It will haunt you all the rest of your days. You may not want to admit that your heart goes with the man, but it does, and I know you well enough to say with certainty that this torment will not end, not for you, not truly, if the worst comes to pass. It will only fade in time, perhaps, and become the ghost of a memory, rather than the full-blooded, all-consuming horror that it presently is, asserting itself all over your will.a aYour opinion is noted,a Vara said, and stood, controlling herself enough not to knock over the chair with her ascent. aBut Iam afraid that I cannot do what you suggest.a aWhich is the greater fear?a Isabelle asked, and rose to stand as well. aThat Sanctuary will fall to defeat and destruction by the dark elves? That Arkaria will fall under the heel of the great menace whose tendrils even now stretch out of the blackness of the caves of Saekaj Sovar and are entangling the rest of the world? Or that you, Vara, not only the last but the stubbornest of all the elves ever born, will lose someone that you value most in a place that you may never even laid eyes on?a Vara did not speak, giving both ideas a moment to weigh in her mind, like heavy stones on scales, tipping the balance one way or another. Cyrus or duty, duty or Cyrus? She thought of her mother, and there was reassurance there, in the last words that she had said before she died, when they had talked. aI am elf, and my life is long, my sorrows great. I will hold to my duty because that will see me through all other pain. When all else falters, fails and fades away, my duty will not. I am paladin, the white knight. My life is a crusade, and my sworn duty is all that matters.a She felt her hilt for reassurance, and watched Isabelleas eyes follow the motion of her hands. aIam not going to draw a sword on you, itas merely an action for emphasis.a aOh, good,a Isabelle said dryly, athough with you, it is hard to tell sometimes.a Isabelle ran her hands over the white robes that she wore, still a pure color even here at the front of the battle lines. aVery well, you hold to your duty then, your crusade, as it were. Though I did think most paladins chose a more spiritual crusade, something nobler and more aligned with grandeur and changing the worlda"like evangelism, or serving the poor, or defending the weak. Something to inspire the soul and fill it with a billowing, all-consuming purposea"a aAll piffle,a Vara said, and took the two steps to the entry of the tent. aBe as grand as you want in your inspirations, but most paladins fall short because they are all grandeur and nobility and little action on the ground. They say they want to free the slaves or evangelize or other rubbish, but then they do things on a daily basis that have little in common with their overarching goal. No, I glory in the small. Duty is a small thing and yet the largest. Every act on a daily basis that I use to serve my guild is a reward in itself, and leads me on to the biggest of goalsa"to serve my guild by defending it from harm. My crusade is the simplest, lowest, and yet highest and most manageable of all of them. No bombast, no bold proclamation, just simple service, day in, day out. And it is simple. All I need to do is get up and point my sword in the direction of the nearest threat, or pick up a shovel and begin whatever work need be done.a She knew her eyes flashed but didnat care. It is all that matters, the littlest things. The big ones can only be attended to after the small.

aYouave developed into a very reasonable person,a Isabelle said, but she didnat smile.

aI strive for reason in all things,a Vara said, and ducked to exit the tent. aTake care, sister of mine.a aI didnat say that was a good attribute,a Isabelle said, and Vara froze at the flap, her back arched. She almost stood up, but the brush of the canvas ceiling against her hair was already ever-present. aYou might try being a bit unreasonable in your thinking from time to time.a Vara turned back. aI might have been accused of being unreasonable from time to time, you neednat worry about that.a aNot an unreasonable pain in the backside,a Isabelle said. aUnreasonable in the sense of making a decision with your soft, yet-walled off and vulnerable heart rather than your thickly protected and indestructible head. There is a clear difference between the two.a aIf there is,a Vara said, and pushed open the flap to let the smell of the army camp outside wash over her, the faint foulness of the cooking and the latrines and all the bodies pushed together in this space, along with the warm evening air, aI canat afford to discover what the former might be saying and still expect to hold to my duty. And that, really, is the essence of the crusade right there, isnat it? A simple choice, and one that is already made.a aTake care,a Isabelle said, ayou and your choice. Take care that you donat regret that choice later.a aI am elf,a Vara said, as she left the tent, and let the flap fall behind her. aMy life is long, and my sorrow is greata"and what is the weight of one more regret on the top of that pile in the grand scale?a She knew Isabelle heard her, even though there was no answer from within the tent. She ignored the trolls that flanked her on either side as she crossed back over to Ryin, who waited by a fire. She ignored the thought of that weight, too, consciously at first, but by the time the return spell took hold and carried her back to Sanctuary, she had forgotten it entirely.

Chapter 45.

Martaina There was something wrong in the air, something she couldnat quite narrow down. It was as if the breeze had shifted direction, and it carried with it an ill smell, something far away, something like death. She sniffed again, and it was faint, something dead, some blood, and it was too early and the woods too sparse for the camp to be getting fresh meat tonight. And if we were, odds are better than good that Iad be the one providing it, Martaina thought.

There was a stir as the expedition returned, Aisling at the fore with Terian, bound and gagged on a horse that she led. Martaina caught sight of Partus, further down the line, untethered, riding a horse of his own. aBefore you left,a Martaina called out to Aisling, who looked at her in return, athe dwarf was bound hand and foot, and Terian was loosed upon the world. You return and the dark knight is the one restrained.a aDoes that make you curious about what happened?a Aisling asked, a sly smile perched on her blue lips.

Martaina sniffed the air again, trying to tune out the dull, pungent scent of people and focus on what she was scenting from upwind. aNot really.a aItas quite the tale,a Aisling said, handing off her reins to one of the other rangers that Martaina had set to taking care of the animals. Mendicant hopped off his pony and took up the rope that was tied around Terianas bindings as he started to lead him off. aFilled with adventure and derring-do.a Martaina looked at the dark elf as she approached, the usual measure of thistles caught in her white hair. With another sniff, something else became obvious as well, something that was beyond the usual faint hint of cinnamon that Aisling used to freshen her breath, something primal and sweaty on her blue skin, something that wasnat usually there, in spite of the dark elfas self-proclaimed reputation. Martaina watched her evenly, not giving her much expression, though she knew that scent, would know it anywhere, as pronounced as it was. aAnd also,a Martaina said, afilled with much sex with your General, it would seem.a Aislingas face didnat fall as expected, it almost flushed, near-aglow. aYou can tell?a aI can smell it,a Martaina said, and went back to her quiver, checking each arrow in turn for splintering on the shaft, and fussing about every fletching.

aSmell what?a Aisling stared back at her.

aHim,a Martaina replied, aon you. Every man in this guild has a unique smell when they sweat. His is faint most of the time, but after a long ride and strenuous activity, it gets more pronounced. It took me a minute to sort it out, because it smells like he might have been in a hot springs recently, and that sulphur really covers it over well, but no, itas there, itas obviousa"oh, and his horse, too. Very different smell than other horses, and it clings to him like that thistle in your hair.a She watched with some minor satisfaction as Aislingas face purpled about the cheeks, her raceas version of blushing. aDonat fear; I wonat tell.a aMuch appreciated,a Aisling said tightly, aI doubt our esteemed general would much like it if this aa She searched for a word but admitted defeat after only a few seconds, aa this were to get out among the guild.a aBecause his last two relationships were something he actively tried to hide?a Martaina raised an eyebrow at her and watched Aisling flinch away, the fingers of one hand touching her lips almost self-consciously.

aAh, good to see youave returned,a Odellan said, wandering in from the opposite direction. His smell was straightforward, clean whenever possible, just like him. Not bad looking, either, for one so young, Martaina thought. aWhere are the officers?a he asked Aisling.

aBack at Enrant Monge,a Aisling said, all trace of her embarrassment gone. aI believe the general will be along shortly.a The smell from the woods was stronger now, Martaina thought, something obvious about it, the blood. She hadnat heard anything, but that was hardly an indicator given that the camp noise was so prevalent. I wouldnat smell anything either, but Iam here at the fringe, and the wind is just right. aSomebody died,a she said.

aBeg pardon?a Odellan looked away from Aisling, to her, and Martaina realized now shead said it out loud.

aThereas blood in the air, a lot of it,a Martaina said with some chagrin. aI can track based on many factors, and that is one of thema"one I donat talk about much, obviously. Itas faint, but there, and itas a ways off, so that means thereas a lot of it.a aYouare sayinga"a Odellan began.

aSomeone died?a Aisling asked. aNo a someone was killed, if thereas that much blood.a Martaina could hear the young dark elf, and the slow line of reasoning as she drew it out in her head.

aHow close by?a Odellan asked. aAfter all, there are armies encamped to our east, north and westa"a aSomewhere between here and Enrant Monge, I think,a Martaina said, sifting through it.

aLetas go take a look.a Aislingas hand went to her dagger, resting on the hilt, palming it. aAfter all, it could bea"a Odellan whistled, and a few nearby warriors came trotting over. aShort march. Iall need a couple of rangers as well, as runners if need be. And a healer, so someone fetch one and bring them to catch up.a He looked to Martaina. aLead on?a aYes,a Martaina said, and let her bow find her hand, and an arrow nocked itself. aFollow.a She didnat run through the trees, not exactly, but followed the path, the one that Aisling and the others from the northern expedition had come in on just moments earlier. The wind had shifted directions, now, and was blowing from the east. I hope what weare looking for is on the path, because wandering afield on a search like this will be like trying to hit an apple at forty yards with a black hood on. She smiled. I can do it, but itall strain me.

The wind was fair but shifted again as they got closer down the path. It was all woods around them now, slight bluffs and rises on one side of the road. She ran along, her feet on the uneven path, the suggestion of rocks through the leather soles of her shoes. Hers gave flexibility but not as much support or protection. But neither were they as weighty as what the warriors wore, either, and she had to slow down to keep from outrunning the escort behind her.

The wind shifted again, and the smell was obvious now, close, a bend or two ahead in the road. Too many scents, mingled together to make a distinction about what she was smelling other than blood. The leaves whipped by her on either side, the string of her bow bit into her fingers the way it always had, the elven twine. It wasnat a problem and hadnat been in the thousand years since she first started to use it, but it was there, the pull of the string, just another feeling, a reminder to her that she was alive.

She came around the corner, a hard twist in the road just beyond a rise that blocked the view and there it was; blood, plenty of it, oozed out all over the road. The bodies were gone, dragged off, save one, the black armor so familiar that she knew the scent then, at least one of them. Martaina heard a hiss behind her as Aisling came around the berm, and she too saw what was there in the road.

The body was laid out, defaced in the cruelest ways possible, the head missing. The sword was still there, amazingly enough, and stuck in the body, which had been stripped naked, the armor left off to the side. It was still obvious, even so, whose body it was, being so tall and muscled as it was. She dropped next to it, felt the slide on the dirt road against her knees, as her fingers ran over the shoulder, as though she could offer the corpse some reassurance.

Aisling was across from her now, kneeling, not saying anything. There was a pall and quiet, the warriors who had followed them speaking only in hushed voices. It was obvious to them, too, who it was, and the rage and tension in the air was palpable. The words aThe Generala were bandied about, over and over, and she heard one of the rangers that had followed along running back to camp even as another ran down the road toward Enrant Monge.

aHow long?a Aisling asked, jarring Martaina out of the long stare she had given the uneven cut around the throat, the place where the lifeblood was draining out onto the sand even now, aided more by gravity than the beating of a heart that had ceased minutes ago. Martaina looked up at the dark elf, who stared her down, and in the red eyes there was a fierce flame, as though the gates of the Realm of Fire had opened and all blazes had spilled loose into the dark elfas soul. aHow long?a aHeas been dead ten, perhaps fifteen minutes,a Martaina said as she felt the arm again. It wasnat cool to the touch, not yet, and wouldnat exactly cool in the warm summer sun. aItas possible that the head is around here, somewherea"a aUnlikely,a Odellan said, and he was standing over them. aIf someone takes a head, itas either meant as spite to deprive them of resurrection or itas a trophy. Itas not meant to be done just to kick it around a clearing.a The elf grew thoughtful, his helm held in the crook of his arm, his usually dark, sun-kissed skin a bit white. aNot in an orchestrated attack like this.a aHoygraf, then,a Aisling said, and she stood. aActaluere.a aThat would seem the most likely.a Martaina stood, the wind blowing a few grains of sand from the road across her face along with a few stray strands of hair.

aThis is not an opportune time or place for us to make war on Actaluere,a Odellan said, responding more to the sudden rumble that ran through the thirty or so warriors, armored and armed, standing behind him arrayed along the road and even up on the embankment. aCalm yourselves.a aI donat wish to calm myself,a Aisling said, though she kept her pitch well under control. aI wish to find the bastards responsible and collect their heads for myself while returning his to where it belongs.a aThis is not a moment for rash action,a Odellan said.

aThis is not a moment when we can afford to wait and NOT act, either,a Aisling said. aWe have less than forty minutes to find his head and have a healer reattach it or else he will not be coming back to life. I would have to guess that will put at least some kink in our efforts to defend Luukessia.a aWe cannot simply charge into the midst of the army of Actaluere,a Odellan said, aregardless of how strong our suspicions might be. What if this is some feint by Galbadien, some political game by the Syloreans? Or a simple, ill-timed and gruesome bandit attack?a aThis is about as likely to be a bandit attack as you are to sprout gills and start swimming about in the wellsprings under Saekaj Sovar,a came a voice from the embankment. Martaina looked up, but not far; Partus stood there, a few feet above them, along with others now arriving, trickling in from the encampment as the news spread. The clink of chains heralded the arrival of Mendicant, Terian in tow. The dark knightas eyes flashed as he saw the body, but his mouth was covered by the gag and his expression muted by the cloth that covered half his face.

aWhatas he doing here?a Martaina asked Mendicant. She saw the goblin start in surprise at being addressed.

aI couldnat just leave him at the campsite,a Mendicant said. aTheyare all heading over here, now. So I brought him along.a aHeas probably getting a deep feeling of joy from seeing this,a Aisling said, leering at Terian. The dark knight shrugged then shook his head. aNo? Must be because you wanted the joy of doing it for yourself.a She waited, and Terian looked at her knowingly then nodded once. aA finer friend I doubt heas ever known,a she said, and touched the headless body with the toe of her shoe, delicate, almost a caress. aAt least when he killed your father, he didnat know what he was doing, that he was harming you. His excuse was duty; whatas yours? Spite?a aEnough of this,a Odellan said. aWe need the officers, and we need them now.a aThey wonat be here for twenty more minutes,a Aisling said, wheeling about on him. aBy then itall be too late to act. Do whatever you will, but Iam going to the Actaluere encampment. Iam likely to stir some trouble, and anyone who wants to come with mea"a aNo,a Martaina said. aYou know he wouldnat want it. Not like this. Not a war without any proof, not a fight to no purpose. Odellan is right; we donat know for fact it is Actaluere.a aYouare a fool if you think itas otherwise,a Aisling said, her eyes narrowed. aBut since you make mention of it, there were other bodies here and now theyare gone. Why donat we simply follow the trail, oh skillful ranger?a She indicated the drag marks in the dirt of the road that led off the embankment, back up into the woods, with a sweeping gesture that was as much sarcasm as grandiloquence. aYou know a while we wait for the officers to appear and make their august rulings and decisions and whatnot.a Martaina wanted to slap her own forehead. Of course. Follow the trail. She didnat waste time agreeing or disagreeing, but instead sprang into motion, her feet finding purchase on the embankment as she followed the drag marks. It was a short jaunt, only a few feet, as the bodies were tucked into the underbrush, covered by a few pine needles and a couple of fallen branches. Their livery was obvious, and the smell of the fish and sea that was so dominant in the soldiers of Actaluere that she had met was present.

aThe most obvious conclusion is most often the right one,a Aisling said, and her daggers were in her hands now. aActaluere soldiers, dead at the edge of Praelior.a aHow can you tell?a Partus shuffled through the brush next to them, his head peeking out from just behind Martaina.

aBecause some of these wounds look like something cut through them in impossible ways,a Martaina answered, turning her head to look at him. aThis one, for examplea"through the bottom of the jaw and out. You see many non-mystical swords do that?a aGold coin for the pretty she-elf,a Partus said. aLooks like you got your culprits, you got your general fighting with them, and a youave still got no head. You gonna ride out into their camp and raise havoc, or what?a aOr what,a came a voice from behind them, and the surface noise that was filling the air, all the soldiers, the low hum of conversations, was interrupted with the sweep of Curatio into the woods, silhouetted against the light coming from the break in the trees where the sun shone down closer to the road. His white cloak billowed as he walked, reminding her of the priests of Nessalima back in Pharesia, their robes just as loose as the healeras. aWindrider rode back to Enrant Monge in such a fit that the lad who tends the stables swore to me he had been possessed by powers of darkness heretofore unseen in Luukessia.a The healer took a deep breath and his nostrils flared. aWe have a dead general, we have no head, we have assailants from Actaluere, and we have more problems than we can safely count without an abacus.a Nyad, Jaanda and Longwell followed in his wake; the younger Longwell was flushed, his helm carried in the crook of his arm as well and his lance not with him.

aThese are Hoygrafas men,a Longwell said, heavy boots crunching in the greenery as he came to stand next to Odellan, staring down at the bodies. aLet there be no doubt.a aSo now we know who took the head,a Curatio said, abut we canat prove it beyond doubt, and thatas a flimsy premise to start a war on now, when we least need to be ensnared in other conflicts.a aWe already had a conflict with Hoygraf,a Aisling snapped, athatas plain. We just havenat seen the end of it, yet.a She spun one of her daggers, twisting it fast in her grip. aI mean to see it through though, even if the rest of you donata"a aThis will be fruitless,a Curatio said, holding a hand up to forestall her. aEven if we rallied the army and ran down the entire Actaluere force, whicha"given their size and ours, would be quite the endeavor given the time constrainta"thereas still no guarantee his head is there, in their camp. Theyad be foolish to be caught with it, after alla"a aHe never was all that bright,a Longwell said, abut proud, though.a Heads swiveled to him. aHoygraf, I mean. If Cyrus did take the Baronessas charms in the Garden again before we left,a no one noticed the slight flinch from Aisling save for Martaina, athen that is the last in a long line of insults and woundings that our general has inflicted on the man. Itas more than his pride can bear. Heall keep the head, and itall be dipped in tar and put in a place of special favor so that he can keep it together for as long as possible.a aWell, thatas the sort of fixation thatas not grotesque and disturbing at all,a Jaanda muttered so low that no one else heard him.

aIam not hearing solutions, and the clock is winding down,a Aisling said. aSo let me propose onea"you donat want to send a whole army into the Actaluere camp because you donat think we should start a war now, fine. Iall go, and Iall sneak my waya"kill my way to Hoygraf, if necessarya"and retrieve the head.a There was a dangerous glint in her eyes. aAnd I can do it, too.a aFar be it from me to suggest otherwise,a Jaanda said, abut we might benefit from a bit of guile instead. An illusion, perhaps, to ease your passage. Less sneaking, more walking through the middle of the camp without any questions.a aThen what?a Curatio asked. aGo to the grand dukeas tent and ask politetly to see him? Ask for the head back?a aThreaten him with the loss of his own as well as his manhood,a Aisling said, still twirling her daggers. aI think heall see the wisdom in parting with it.a She paused. aThe head, not his manhood.a aI donat wish to be crudea"a Longwell said.

aThat hasnat stopped anyone else,a Jaanda said under his breath.

aBut at this point, the grand dukeas manhood is inextricably tied to the head,a Longwell went on, grimly, athough I know that your Arkarian sense probably doesnat understand or wish to acknowledge it. Cyrus has castrated Hoygrafa"not literally, I would hope, but in a figurative sense, through everything heas done, and the Grand Dukeas actions are absolutely in line with trying to regain his power and pride, as it were.a aThis is disturbing on so many levels I canat even count them all,a Martaina said. aWe have little time. You think he wonat give up the head?a aI think head rather die,a Longwell said, agiven the humiliations heas been subjected to by our general. Stealing the manas wife and having his way with her is well beyond the realm of embarrassement to be sure, especially since we all knowa"as he probably doesa"that she was with Cyrus more than happily.a Longwell shook his head. aIf you want the head back, he wonat surrender it willingly; youall have to kill or cripple him further.a aDone and done,a Aisling said, and turned west, disappearing into the brush.

aDammit,a Curatio breathed, and Martaina cast him a look. aGo with her,a the healer said, aJaanda, you too. Find the head, bring it back. Iall rally the army in case you fail.a aYouare going to start a war over this, Curatio?a Partus said with muted excitement. aIll-timed, but I admire that.a aTo hell with your admiration,a Curatio said. aI donat care what time it is; if our general dies permanently, I will make an example of the Kingdom of Actaluere that even the scourge wonat find palatable.a He waved his hand at Martaina. aGo.a She was off then and heard Jaanda following behind, slower. She tried to match his pace, but the enchanteras sandaled feet didnat make for very fast travel and after a short distance, he said so. aI apologize, but this is going to be difficult.a They ran along the southern wall of Enrant Monge, the castleas guards looking down on them from above on the battlements.

aItas not far now,a she replied, and kept moving. aJust over that rise.a She pointed to a crest of the rough territory ahead.

aYou know these woods already?a Jaanda asked, keeping up with her.

aIave been hunting,a Martaina said. aWhat do you think the likelihood is that Aisling will wait for us?a aLow. Lower than that, even, maybe. Whatas lower than ground level?a aSaekaj Sovar, as I understand it.a She met his weak smile, and they kept on, her quietly slipping through the woods and him crunching in the underbrush as though he were unaware of the noise he was causing.

They came to the top of an overlook, and down below was a camp. Not quite as simplistic as the Sanctuary encampment, this one had clearly been used many times over the years. It was open ground, with latrines clearly dug, tents set up in lines and in a careful order. aLooks like the same type of site that the Galbadien army uses,a Martaina said as the two of them hunched over in the bushes, looking down.

aHere,a Jaanda said, and his hand moved over her. The light around them shifted, and Jaanda became a human, wrapped in the same helm and armor as the guards they had found dead in the woods. The enchanter regarded her carefully for a moment. aThe illusion is perfect; you look like a man.a aWhich is rather dramatically different for her,a came Aislingas voice from behind them. Martaina looked to see the dark elf crouched only inches away, aSince that would doubtless scare off any of the five men sheas slept with since coming on this sojourn.a Martaina felt her face redden, the heat coming to it. aYou sound envious.a aNot at all,a Aisling said, her face a mask, only the slightest edge of spite creeping out of her words. aIam quite content with what Iave got, and Iall continue to be content with it if we manage to finish this out.a Martaina shot a look at Jaanda, whose hand was extended toward Aisling. A moment later, the illusion took hold and the dark elf was replaced with a dull-looking man of Actaluere, slack-jawed under his helm with its over-exaggerated nose guard. Aisling was off, down the slope with a cloud of dust trailing behind her. Martaina kept a careful eye on Jaanda, who looked to her with a gentle shrug. aFive men?a The enchanter asked. aIam envious.a aBecause you werenat one of them?a Martaina asked, and felt the dryness in her mouth as she said it, the humiliation of her exposure.

aNo,a Jaanda said with a dismissive wave, abecause you could have been sporting and saved one of the men for me, at least. Two if you were feeling charitable.a She blinked at him, and he was gone down the slope in the moment after that before she had a chance to respond. She followed after, hoping the illusion worked hand in hand with the stir of dirt she was causing on the slope. She came to the end of it, the red dust of her descent caught up with her and overtook her for a minute, but she kept moving until it was cleared and she entered the edge of the tent city of Actaluereas encampment. She saw the man who she knew was Jaanda, just ahead of her, but could only tell him by the dust of the slide on his illusory surcoat. Aisling, ahead, was not only dusty but walked with a slight, almost unnoticeable sway.

aPlaying games, soldier?a One of the men she passed, stirring a pot of stew over a fire, shook his head at her. aThis is how you know youave been too long idle; men start playing like bloody children.a She didnat answer, afraid of what the response would sound like, feminine or not. Instead, she followed Jaanda, the trailing blue of his stained surcoat, and they walked on past the small tents of the army, toward the larger ones ahead, the tents of the commanders and even one, the largesta"for the King, surelya"which stood higher than all the rest and was crowned with a circle of pennants atop it.

The smell of food was present, all manner of it, and the latrines, too, as she snaked her way through the camp. Her bow was still on her shoulder, she could feel it with a touch, but it was invisible, no sign that it was there at all. She felt the weight of it too, though, slung where it was. The aisles between tents were clear enough, though men lingered outside in the summer sun, laughing, slouching, aimless in most cases.

The ground between tents grew wider as they drew closer to the Kingas tent. The gaps grew between them, the tents got bigger, and the spaces where men sat around fires were broader. Fewer men around these fires, she thought. More elite. There were no fires burning now, though, and few men, now that she thought about it. There was sound in the distance, though the sound of cheers or jeers, she couldnat tell.

Aisling had slowed her pace, and now Martaina and Jaanda caught her, walking as a triad down the quiet, abandoned pathways between tents. aWhere did they all go?a Jaanda asked, casting his gaze left, then right.

aTo wherever that cheering comes from,a Aisling said, and the tension bled in her voice. aAnd likely where the head of our illustrious general is, too.a They came out of a cluster of tents and the sound grew louder. There was a gathering in front of the Kingas tent, where a wide space was cleared. Their view was obstructed though, and only the top of the massive tent was visible behind the last few large tents in the way. aThink theyare having a party around it?a Jaanda asked.

aIf so, the celebration will be short-lived,a Martaina said, and ran her hand onto her bow, checking to be sure it was still there even though she couldnat see it. There was blood in the air again, fighting now to be scented over the camp smells.

They emerged from between two tents and found the source of the cheering and catcalls. There was a courtyard of sorts constructed before the Kingas tent. A throne sat to one side, unoccupied, all done in brass but with places for poles to be threaded through so it could be carried on the shoulders of strong men, or placed atop a wagon.

It was not the empty throne that the crowd of soldiers of Actaluere were cheering, Martaina realized quickly. It was the woman stripped naked and tied to a post in the middle of it all, and the head on the top of the post. A flash of brown hair was obvious and visible, though it had been cut short, roughlya"by a sword, she suspecteda"and the back was lashed and red with fresh blood from the shoulders to the buttocks and down the back of her thighs. The woman was on her knees, and the only proof Martaina could find that she was still alive was the steady, slow heave of her shoulders up and down with each breath, the rise and fall of her shoulder blades that put the lie to the idea that a human body could not take the punishment revealed on her skin.

aThe head,a Jaanda said under his breath. aItas atop that pillar, where that woman is being a ugh.a He made a sound in the back of his throat, such utter disgust professed that aligned perfectly with Martainaas sentiments. She had seen worse tortures but few enough. Crimson stained the dirt all around the post, the ground ran red with the womanas blood.

aSheas still alive, whoever she is,a Aisling said. aLook at hera"a aI see,a Martaina said tightly. aTheyave cut her hair, but you can see the old scarring; itas Baroness Hoygraf.a aDear gods,a Jaanda said, staring as the woman turned her shorn scalp and revealed a face battered and bruised but still recognizable. aShe was safe at Enrant Monge; how did theya"a aIt matters not,a Aisling said, and her tone was hard and uninviting for further talk. aWe need the head.a aWhile weare here, we might consider freeing her as a kindness,a Martaina said. aI, for one, wouldnat wish to experience another moment of what sheas endured, not any of it.a aWhere isa"a Jaanda started but cut himself off. aThere he is.a From behind the crowd to their left, where he had been obscured from their view, came Grand Duke Hoygraf, his face waxy pale, and his limp pronounced with the cane he leaned on for guidance. His every step looked as though his abdomen caused him pain, though his face was already cut cruel enough into a scowl that it might not have mattered to his expression. He limped his way across the dirt, back to the pillar and his wife, the head of Cyrus perched atop, the lifeless eyes of their general bearing silent witness to everything that happened around them.

aIf he starts to launch into a soliloquy, Iam begging you to send an arrow through his eye,a Aisling said.

aIf he does,a Jaanda said, aI might send an arrow to his eye myself. Hell, I might do it without him speaking. This is an atrocity. How a man could do such a thing to an enemy is beyond me, but his own wife?a aLove and war are a thin line,a Aisling said, aand thinner here in Luukessia than anywhere else Iave seen.a They stood at a distant edge of the crowd where it was less populous, but there were at least a hundred in attendance around the spectacle, and all armed with swords. aCan we win this fight?a aNot by numbers,a Jaanda said, anor by easy deception. My spells would be of limited use with this large of a crowd. I could sow discord, perhaps by charming some of them, having them attack others, but it would be a small few, say fifty or so. There is no chance I could mesmerize this many of them, nor that I could divert all their attention from the center long enough or with enough guarantee that we wouldnat be caught.a He shrugged. aI donat think even an army marching into their midst right now would guarantee we wouldnat be discovered while freeing her, gathering the head and making our escape.a He shook his head. aBy the numbers, we need our army to finish this. Unless we all want to die in the process, in which case we might as well go now as later.a aNo deaths,a Aisling said. aDefeats the purpose. There has to be another way, and we only have a few minutes left, now. We need an opening, something to give us an out.a The grand duke hefted a whip in his hand and lashed his wife twice across the back in quick succession, opening fresh lines just above her buttocks. aKilling him before we die would be awfully satisfying, though.a There was a stir in the crowd, something other than the ordinary jeers, and the grand duke stopped, and spoke. aSee what happens? See what comes your way when you are wicked, deceptive, conniving, deceitful, and treat with our enemies?a He opened his arms wide in grand gesture, as if encompassing all with his motion, though he was careful to shift his weight so much of it still rested on the cane he leaned on with his left hand. aBe assured, we are a faithful enemy, and repayment of what is owed comes to all who give us cause.a He gestured to the head on the pole with his right hand, and the sneer on his face might have been mistaken for happiness in another man, Martaina thought, but not on his.

aYou a promised aa Martaina heard Cattrine speak, low, low enough that she was likely the only one other than the Grand Duke who heard. She caught the look on Hoygrafas face that told her she had assumed correctly, as the man hobbled over to where his wife lay on her knees, still bound to the pole, totally exposed, bleeding. The Grand Duke leaned down, as if to listen. aYou promised,a Cattrine said, gasping the words out in a low, guttural whisper, aif I submitted a you would return his a remains to his guildmates aa aSo I did,a the Grand Duke said, sotto voce; Martaina strained to listen, though the crowd had grown quieter, watching the Grand Duke in a seeming conversation with his battered and humiliated wife. aAnd so I shall.a A knife appeared from the leather of his belt and cut her bonds. Cattrine dropped to all fours when released, unable to hold her own weight. The Grand Duke reached up and grasped Cyrusas head by the hair and lifted it off the pole, suspending it slightly over her, appearing to look it in the eyes for a moment before he dropped it onto her ravaged back, causing her to cry out from the pain of the impact. It rolled off and came to rest by her side. aGo on, then. I return him to you now, and you may carry him back to his fellows.a Martaina could see the grin form on Hoygrafas face, beneath the dark, scraggly beard. aI think you have a few minutes left, so you might wish to hurry. If you can.a He stood and the grin on his face told Martaina everything she needed to know. He thinks thereas no chance for her to make it in time.

aHeas letting her go,a Martaina said, awith the head, to return it to Sanctuary.a aWhy?a Jaanda breathed.

aSome sort of bargain between them,a Martaina said, and her fingers twitched, desirous to hold her bow, to feel the arrow knotted between her fingers, to let it fly and see it run through Hoygrafas skull. aDoesnat seem likely he intends her to actually be able to save him, though, does it?a aWe have minutes,a Aisling said. aBarely time enough, if that. Every moment we wait brings him closer to permanent death.a aThere is mercy in us, though, is there not?a Grand Duke Hoygraf had begun to speak again. aFor a man of Actaluere, our superiority is nothing but obvious, and we can find it in ourselves to allow the fallen enemies to go back to their brethren, can we not?a He placed a boot on Cattrineas cut and bleeding rump and rested his weight on it, causing her to cry out. aOnce we show someone their place, and they are convinced of it, is there any reason not to be a little generous? When they know the price of betrayal, can we do any less than reassure them of their place in the order of things?a He pressed on her again with his hard-soled leather shoe, and Cattrine, who had been trying to get to all fours to crawl was forced to the ground again, and her screams of pain were almost too much for Martaina to bear; the bow was in her hand and an arrow ready to fly before she felt Jaandaas hand on her wrist. aHold,a Jaanda said.

aNo time,a Aisling said, and Martaina could hear the agitation in her voice. aHe means to let the sands run through the hourglass before he lets her go, if even he does so then.a aWHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?a A voice crackled through the air as though a thunder spell had been unleashed into the midst of the gathering, and all the heads turned. A phalanx of soldiers emerged to their right from the main road through the camp, their armored boots slapping the dirt into a cloud, their deep-blue armor and surcoats those of Actaluere, but different than the Grand Dukeas livery. In their midst was a man Martaina had not seen before, yet whose station was obvious by the amount of bodyguards surrounding hima"

aMilos Tiernan,a Jaanda said, athe King of Actaluere.a aI figured that one out all by myself,a Martaina said, and let the bow dip downward; the illusion made it look as though she were doing nothing more than holding a sword over her shoulder.

Tiernan made his way through his crowd of bodyguards to Hoygraf, who waited with an air of patient expectation, seemingly unworried. In truth, Martaina could smell the fear on him; the man had begun to perspire the moment Tiernan had spoken. Tiernan closed to feet from Hoygraf, who stood between the King and Cattrine, who was now up on all fours, one of her hands clutching Cyrusas hair tightly. aYou mean to force us into a war?a Tiernan said under his breath, standing only two feet from Hoygraf now.

aNo war,a Hoygraf said. aYou heard them; the Westerners mean to go to Syloreasas aid. And no war with Galbadien, either; my dear wife has pledged to return to me and has accepted her punishmenta"and more to come.a aHas she now?a Martaina heard a distinct frosting on Tiernanas inflection as it cooled. aI am certain she enjoyed your lash with all enthusiasm; but tell me, Hoygraf, what possessed her to accept your punishment, seeing that she was well free of your loving touch?a aYou would have to ask her,a Hoygraf said, with a minimal shrug. aLove of her husband, perhaps.a aTrying to save my homeland, more like,a Cattrine said from her hands and knees.

aWe all have our own reasons,a Hoygraf said with a further shrug. aShe has received what she was promised and shall receive more in the bargain. Now she will return the head of Sanctuaryas General to them, then come back to me, and war will be averted with Galbadien because of it.a Hoygrafas teeth showed, evenly, far too polished for Martainaas taste, too white for the blackness of the manas soul. aAnd you can send your forces north to Syloreas to counter this threat that has everyone so worried.a aYou know very damned well that western magic works to revive the dead for only so long after theyave been killed.a Milos Tiernan appeared to shake with this pronouncement, as he stared down Hoygraf, but still he kept his voice low enough that none of the crowd could hear. aYou have killed him, which I would suspect would be an act of war in the view of the westerners, and stripped him of his head, and now you sit here, torturing my sister and letting time pass idly by. How long ago did he die, Hoygraf?a aI hardly know,a Hoygraf said. aAn hour, perhaps? Perhaps less, perhaps a little more. It is hard to be worried about such things when you are striving to enforce richly deserved justice.a He broke a little smile again toothily and pretended to wipe a bead of perspiration from his brow that was not even there.