Merciful Rhiap, she thought. she thought. He's so tall! This must be that Snowlock, that one they all speak of. Someone said his other name, what was it? He's so tall! This must be that Snowlock, that one they all speak of. Someone said his other name, what was it?

"... Seoman ..." she said aloud, staring at his face. The beard, the scar, the streak of white in his hair-for a moment he was just a young man. Then she knew.

"Rachel!" In a few long steps he was before her. He stared down at her for a moment, his lips trembling, then a wide grin broke across his face. "Rachel!" he said again. In a few long steps he was before her. He stared down at her for a moment, his lips trembling, then a wide grin broke across his face. "Rachel!" he said again.

"Simon... ?" she murmured. The world had ceased to make any kind of sense. "You're ... alive?" alive?"

He bent down and grabbed her, squeezing hard. He lifted her high in the air so that her feet wiggled above the ground. "Yes!" he laughed. "I'm alive! G.o.d knows how, but I'm alive! Oh, Rachel, you could never imagine what has happened, never, never, never!"

He put her down but took both her hands in his. She wanted to pull them free because tears were streaming down her cheeks. Could this be? Or had she finally gone mad? But there he was, red hair, idiot grin, big as life-bigger than life!

"Are you ... you ... Snowlock?" Snowlock?"

"I am, I suppose!" He laughed again. "I am." He let go for a moment, then draped an arm around her. "There is so much to tell you-but we have time now, nothing but time." He lifted his head, shouting: "Quick! This is Rachel! Bring her wine, bring her food, get her a chair!"

"But what has happened?" She craned her neck to look up at him, impossibly tall, impossibly alive, but Simon for all that. "How can this be?"

"Sit," he said. "I will tell you all. And then we can begin the grand task."

She shook her head, dazed. "Grand task?"

"You were Mistress of Chambermaids ... but you were always more. You were like a mother to me, but I was too young and stupid to see it. Now you shall have the honor you deserve, Rachel. And if you want it, you shall be the mistress of the entire Hayholt. Heaven knows, we need you. An army of servants will attend you, troops of builders, companies of chambermaids, legions of gardeners." He laughed, a man's loud laugh. "We will fight a war against the ruin we have made, and we will build the castle again. We will make our home a beautiful place once more!" He gave her a squeeze and steered her toward where Miriamele and Jeremias waited, smiling. "You will be Rachel the Dragon, General of the Hayholt!"

Tears trickled down her cheeks. "Mooncalf, "Mooncalf, " she said. " she said.

Afterword.

Tiamak pushed with his toe at the lilypad. The part of the moat in the shadow of the wall was quiet but for the hum of insects and the splashing of Tiamak's own feet dangling in the water. with his toe at the lilypad. The part of the moat in the shadow of the wall was quiet but for the hum of insects and the splashing of Tiamak's own feet dangling in the water.

He was watching a water beetle when he heard footsteps behind him.

"Tiamak!" Father Strangyeard sat down awkwardly beside him, but kept his sandaled feet out of the moat. "I heard you had arrived. How good it is to see you."

The Wrannaman turned and clasped the archivist's hand. "And you, dear friend," he said. "It is astonishing to see the changes here."

"A great deal can happen in a year," Strangyeard laughed. "And people have been hard at work. But what is your your news since your last message?" news since your last message?"

Tiamak smiled. "Much. I found the remnants of my townsmen, scattered mainly through other villages across the Wran. Many of them will come back to Village Grove, I think, now that the ghants have retreated to the deep swamp." His smile dwindled. "And my sister still does not believe half of what I tell her."

"Can you blame her?" asked Strangyeard gently. "I can scarcely believe the things I saw myself."

"No, I do not blame her." Tiamak's smile returned. "And I have finally finished Sovran Remedys of the Wranna Healers." Sovran Remedys of the Wranna Healers."

"Tiamak, my friend!" Strangyeard was honestly delighted. "But that is wonderful! I am hungry for it! Is there a chance I can read it soon?"

"Very soon. I brought it with me. Simon and Miriamele said they would have copies made here. Four writing-priests, just to work on my book!" He shook his head. "Who would ever have dreamed?"

"Wonderful," Strangyeard said again. His smile was mysterious. "Come, should we not head back? I think it is almost time."

Tiamak nodded and reluctantly pulled his feet from the water. The lily pad floated back into place.

"I have heard that this will be more than a memorial," the Wrannaman said as they gazed at the incomplete sh.e.l.l of stone, littered with the boards and covering cloths of absent workers, that rose where Green Angel Tower had stood. "That there will be archives as well." He turned suddenly to look at his friend. "Ah. I suspect you know more about those four writing-priests than you told me."

Strangyeard nodded and blushed. "That is my my news," he said proudly. "I helped draw the plans. It will be magnificent, Tiamak. A place of learning where nothing will be lost or hidden. And I will have many a.s.sistants to help me." He smiled and stared across the grounds. Two slow-moving figures made their way through the building site and pa.s.sed through the recently completed doorway into the shadowed interior. "Most likely my eye will be so bad by the time the thing is finished-if G.o.d has not yet called me, that is-that I won't be able to see it. But that does not worry me. I see it already." He tapped his head and his gentle smile grew wider. "Here. And it is wonderful, my friend, wonderful." news," he said proudly. "I helped draw the plans. It will be magnificent, Tiamak. A place of learning where nothing will be lost or hidden. And I will have many a.s.sistants to help me." He smiled and stared across the grounds. Two slow-moving figures made their way through the building site and pa.s.sed through the recently completed doorway into the shadowed interior. "Most likely my eye will be so bad by the time the thing is finished-if G.o.d has not yet called me, that is-that I won't be able to see it. But that does not worry me. I see it already." He tapped his head and his gentle smile grew wider. "Here. And it is wonderful, my friend, wonderful."

Tiamak took the priest's arm. They made their way across the grounds of the Inner Bailey.

"As I said, it is astonishing to see the changes." The marsh man looked up at the castle's hodgepodge of roofs, almost all patched now, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Higher up, a scaffolding had been erected over the dome of the chapel. A few workmen moved across it, tying things down for the night. Tiamak's gaze roved to the far side of the Inner Bailey wall and he paused. "Hjeldin's Tower-it has no windows in it any more. They were red, were they not?"

"Pryrates' tower ... and storehouse." Strangyeard sketched the Tree on his breast. "Yes. Fire will be put to it, I expect, then it will be leveled to the ground. It has been sealed a long time, but no one is in much of a hurry to go inside, and Simon-King Seoman, I suppose I should say, although that still sounds faintly strange to me-wants the entrance to the catacombs beneath sealed as well." The archivist shook his head. "You know I think knowledge is precious, Tiamak. But I have not objected to any part of that plan."

The Wrannaman nodded. "I understand. But let us talk of more pleasant things."

"Yes." Strangyeard smiled again. "Speaking of such, I have come by a fascinating object-part of the castellain's account book from the time of Sulis the Apostate. Someone found it when they were cleaning up the Chancelry. There are some astonishing things in it, Tiamak-just astonishing! I think we just have time to stop by my chamber and get it on our way to the dining hall."

"Let us go then, by all means," Tiamak said, grinning, but as he fell in beside the archivist, he turned for a last look at Hjeldin's Tower and its empty windows.

"You see," Isgrimnur said softly. "They have covered it with fine stone, just as Miriamele said."

Gutrun wiped at her face with the scarf. "Read it to me."

The duke squinted down at the slab set into the floor. The place was open to the sky, but the light was fading fast. "Isorn, son of Isgrimnur and Gutrun, Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Elvritshalla. Bravest of men, beloved of G.o.d and all who knew him. "Isorn, son of Isgrimnur and Gutrun, Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Elvritshalla. Bravest of men, beloved of G.o.d and all who knew him." He straightened up, determined not to cry. He would be strong for his lost child. "Bless you, son," he whispered.

"He must be so lonely," Gutrun said, her voice quavering. "So cold in the ground."

"Hush." Isgrimnur put his arm around her. "Isorn is not here, you know that. He is in a better place. He would laugh to see us fret so." He tried to make his words firm. It did no good to question, to worry. "G.o.d has rewarded him."

"Of course." Gutrun sniffed. "But, Isgrimnur, I still miss him so!"

He felt his eyes misting and cursed quietly, then hastily made the Tree sign. "I miss him, too, wife. Of course. But we have our others to think of, and Elvritshalla-not to mention two G.o.dchildren down in Kwanitupul."

"G.o.dchildren I cannot even brag about!" she said indignantly, then laughed and shook her head.

They stood a while longer, until the light had vanished and the stone slab had fallen into shadow. Then they went out again into the evening.

They sat in the dining hall, filling the chairs around John's Great Table. All the wall sconces held torches, and candles were set about the table as well, so that the long room was full of light.

Miriamele rose, her blue gown whispering in the sudden silence. The circlet on her brow caught the torchlight.

"Welcome, all." Her voice was soft but strong. "This house is yours and always will be. Come to us whenever you wish, stay as long as you like."

"But be sure and be here at least once a year," Simon said, and raised his cup.

Tiamak laughed. "It is a long journey for some of us, Simon," he said. "But we will always do our best."

Beside him, Isgrimnur thumped his goblet on the table. He had been making healthy inroads into the supply of beer and wine. "He's right, Simon. And speaking of long journeys, I don't see little Binabik."

Simon stood up and put his arm around Miriamele's shoulder, pausing for a moment to pull her close and brush the top of her head with a kiss. "Binabik and Sisqi have sent a bird with a message." He smiled. "They are performing the Rite of Quickening-Sludig knows what I'm talking about, since it almost got us all killed-and then traveling with their folk down-mountain to Blue Mud Lake. After that, they will come to visit us here." Simon's grin widened. "Then, next year, Sludig and I will be off to visit them in high Mintahoq!"

Sludig nodded his head vigorously as various jests were made. "The trolls invited me," he said proudly. "First what-do-they-call-it-'Croohok'-they have ever asked." He raised his cup. "To Binabik and Sisqi! Long life and many children!"

The toast was echoed.

"Do you really think you will slip off on such an adventure without me?" asked Miriamele, eyeing her husband. "Leave me home to do all the work?"

"Good luck trying to outrun Miri," Isgrimnur chortled. "There's a woman who's already traveled more of the world than you have!"

Gutrun elbowed him. "Let them speak."

Isgrimnur turned and kissed her cheek. "Of course."

"Then we will go together," Simon said grandly. "We will make it a royal progress."

Miriamele gave him a sour glance, then turned to Rachel the Dragon, who had paused in the hall's far doorway to quietly berate a serving lad. Rachel's eyebrows had shot up at Simon's offhand remark. Now she and Miriamele shared a look of disgusted amus.e.m.e.nt.

"Do you have any idea what sort of trouble that will be?" Miriamele demanded. "To take the whole court into the mountains to Yiqanuc?"

Simon looked around the hall at the amused faces of the guests. He ran his fingers through his red beard and grinned. "I am not quite civilized yet, but they are doing their best." Miriamele poked his ribs, then leaned against him again. He lifted his goblet high. "It is so good to see you all. Another toast! To the Prince's Company! Would that Josua were here to see it-but I know he will be honored, wherever he is!" The rest of the companions laughed, all now privy to the secret.

Tiamak stood. "As a matter of fact, I bring word from ... an absent friend. He sends his great love, and wishes you to know that he, his wife, and their children are well." The announcement was greeted with shouts of approval.

Isgrimnur rose abruptly, teetering a little. "And let us not forget to drink to all the others who also fought and fell that we could be here," he cried. "All of them." His voice shook a little. "G.o.d preserve their souls. May we never forget them!"

"Amen!" cried many others. When the cheers fell away, there was a long moment of silence.

"Now drink up," Miriamele ordered. "But keep your wits. Sangfugol has promised to play us a new song."

"And Jeremias will sing it. He has been practicing." The harper looked around. "I don't know where he has gotten to. It is annoying to have the singer unprepared."

"You mean some singers are prepared?" Isgrimnur laughed, then made a face of mock fear as Sangfugol waved a heel of bread at him threateningly.

"When your ears are other than stone, Duke Isgrimnur," Sangfugol replied with a certain frostiness, "then you can make jokes."

The hall had fallen back into merriment and general conversation when Jeremias appeared at Simon's shoulder and whispered something in his ear.

"Good," said Simon. "I am glad he came. But you, Jeremias, what are you doing, scuttling around like a servant? They are expecting you to sing later. Sit down here. Miri will pour you some wine." He got up and forced a protesting Jeremias into his chair, then walked toward the door.

In the entrance hall, a somber man with a dark horse-tail of hair awaited him, still wearing traveling clothes and a cloak.

"Count Eolair." Simon went forward to clasp the Hernystirman's hand. "I hoped you would come. How was your journey?"

Eolair looked at him keenly, studying him as though they had never met before. He bent his knee. "Well enough, King Seoman. The roads are still not good, and it is a long trip, but there is little fear of bandits anymore. It does me good to get away from Hernysadharc. But you know of rebuilding."

"It is Simon, please. And Queen Inahwen? How is she?"

Eolair nodded, half-smiling. "She sends her greetings. But we will play those tunes later, I suppose, when Queen Miriamele and others can hear them-in the throne room, where these things must be done." He looked up suddenly. "Speaking of throne rooms, was that not the Dragonbone Chair I saw in the courtyard outside? With ivy growing upon it?"

Simon laughed. "Out for everyone to see. Fear not-a little wind and a little damp won't hurt those bones. They are stronger than rock. And neither Miri nor I could bear to sit in the thing."

"Some children were playing on it." Eolair shook his head in wonderment. "That was something I never thought to see."

"To the castle children, it's only something to climb on. Although they were a little worried at first." He extended a hand. "Come, let me take you in and give you something to drink and to eat."

Eolair hesitated. "Perhaps I would be better off finding a bed. It was a long ride today."

Now it was Simon's turn to look at Eolair carefully. "Forgive me if I am speaking out of turn," he said, "but I have known something for a long time that you should know too. I would have waited until we had spoken more, you and I, but perhaps it would be best to tell you now." He took a breath. "I met Maegwin before she died. Did you know? But the strange thing was that we were really leagues apart."

"I know something of it," said the Count of Nad Mullach. "Jiriki was with us. He tried to explain. It was difficult to understand what he meant."

"There will be much to talk about later, but here is the one thing you must know." Simon's voice dropped. "She was herself at the last, and the only thing she regretted leaving was you, Count Eolair. She loved you. But by giving up her life she saved me and freed me to go to the tower. We might none of us be here today-Erkynland, Hernystir, everything else, all might be under cold shadows-were it not for her."

Eolair was silent for a while, his face expressionless. "Thank you," he said at last. A little of his brittleness seemed to have gone.

Simon gently took his arm. "Now come, please. Come and join us. Up the corridor you have a room full of friends, Eolair-some of them you don't even know yet!"

He led the count toward the dining hall. Firelight and the sound of laughing voices reached out to welcome them.

Appendix

PEOPLE.

ERKYNLANDERS.

Barnabas-Hayholt chapel s.e.xton Deornoth, Sir-of Hewenshire, Josua's knight Eahlferend-Simon's fisherman father Eahlstan Fiskerne-"Fisher King," founder of League of Scroll Ebekah, also known as Efiathe of Hernysadharc-Queen of Erkynland, John's wife, mother of Elias and Josua Elias-High King, John's oldest son, Josua's brother Fengbald-Earl of Falshire, High King's Hand Freobeorn-Freosel's father, a blacksmith of Falshire Freosel-Falshireman, constable of New Gadrinsett Guthwulf-Earl of Utanyeat Heanwig-old drunkard in Stanshire Helfgrim-Lord Mayor of Gadrinsett (former) Inch-foundry master Isaak-Fengbald's page Jack Mundwode-mythical forest bandit Jeremias-former chandler's apprentice, Simon's friend John-King John Presbyter, High King, also known as "Prester John"

Judith-Hayholt Mistress of Kitchens Leteth-Geloe's companion, once Miriamele's handmaid Maefwaru-a Fire Dancer Miriamele-Princess, Elias' daughter Morgenes, Doctor-Scrollbearer, Simon's friend and mentor Old Bent Legs-forge worker in Hayholt Osgal-one of Mundwode's mythical band Rachel-Hayholt Mistress of Chambermaids, also known as "The Dragon"

Roelstan-escaped Fire Dancer Sangfugol-Josua's harper Sceldwine-captain of the prisoned Erkynguardsmen Shem Horsegroom-Hayholt groom Simon-castle scullion (named "Seoman" at birth) Stanhelm-forge worker Strangyeard, Father-Scrollbearer, priest, Josua's archivist Towser-King John's jester (original name "Cruinh") Ulca-girl on Sesuad'ra, called "Curly Hair"

Welma-girl on Sesuad'ra, called "Thin One"