Corec laid the two staff-spears across the narrow bed so Ariadne could see them. The two of them, along with Ellerie and Marco, were crammed into Ariadne’s tiny room at the village inn in Livadi. She had agreed to look over the enchanted items they’d found, but the inn didn’t have a private dining room, and the common room was full of villagers curious about their foreign visitors after the tales brought back by the wagon drivers.

“I don’t recognize them,” she said. She hadn’t been familiar with any of the other weapons either, or the tower shield.

Corec nodded and moved to retrieve the spears, but she stopped him.

“Wait,” she said, peering closely at some tiny markings along the shaft. “Is this the one Sarette carries?”

“Yes.”

“It’s an elementalist’s weapon.” She grasped the staff-spear in a fighting pose and closed her eyes, seemingly waiting for something. Her knuckles went white as she tightened her grip. Finally, a weak flame lined the edges of the blade.

She gazed down at what she’d done, a look of regret passing over her face. “It’s meant for infusing elemental strikes. It’s similar to a Mage Knight’s sword, but if it’s made of fortisteel, like this one, it only makes elemental infusion easier, not other temporary enchantments. Some of the knights had spears like these made of mirrorsteel, but we only took our swords into stasis. I’m not sure where the spears are now.”

“These were the only enchanted staff-spears we found,” Ellerie mentioned.

Ariadne nodded and sighed. The flames disappeared, and she laid the weapon back down. “Elder magic is difficult for me. I usually don’t bother with it.”

Marco was scribbling furiously. “Elemental … infusion? Is that the word?”

She eyed him with distrust. “What does it matter to you?”

“I have to keep records of everything we plan to sell,” Marco said. “The company needs to know that we’re getting a good price.”

Ariadne clenched her fists.

Before she could speak, Corec said, “Sarette wants to keep that one.”

The Chosar woman relaxed. “Sarette spars like an elementalist. She would be a fitting bearer.”

Marco rolled his eyes and continued writing.

Hoping to head off an argument, Corec moved the spears out of the way and Ellerie set out the last item they’d found in the warded armory room, a shirt made of very fine metal links, no thicker than cloth.

“Spellmail,” Ariadne said without hesitation.

“What is spellmail?” Ellerie asked.

“Armor for a wizard. The metal won’t block spellcasting.”

“It actually works as armor?” Corec asked. The shirt was so flimsy, he’d expected it to be ceremonial.

“Why else would they have made it?” Ariadne said.

Ellerie gave the chain shirt a thoughtful glance before moving it aside. “That’s the last of what we found in the armory. The rest of these things came from the Enchantment Repository.”

The objects from that room had been grouped together in four different glass cases. Corec laid out the items from the one he thought of as the jewelry case—three rings, a golden circlet, and a pair of silver cuff bracelets.

Ariadne shook her head, apparently not recognizing anything.

“What about these?” Ellerie asked, showing her four gemstones cut into spheres.

Ariadne picked up the red one. Holding it in her palm, she tapped it three times with her finger. A red light began emanating from it. “Permanent mage lights,” she said. “I’m not sure why they’re different colors.” She tapped it twice and the light faded.

Marco said, “I think that’s a real ruby, though I’ve never seen one cut perfectly round before. Gemstones that make light … we might do better to sell them as a matched set rather than individually.”

Ariadne glared at him.

Corec cleared his throat and when Marco glanced his way, he gave a quick shake of his head. The factor grunted but stopped talking, seeming to understand the message.

The Chosar woman didn’t recognize the next item, a pair of spectacles with yellow lenses, but when Corec unpacked a brass lamp, she frowned thoughtfully, then tapped it three times. Nothing happened, and she shook her head. “I thought it might have been a different kind of mage light, but if so, the creator used a different activation sequence.”

The only remaining items from the repository were small figurines—four tiny freight wagons, two wooden bridges, three catapults, a cart-mounted ballista, and two siege towers. They looked like toys, but were far more detailed than any children’s toy Corec had ever seen.

“Are these all that were left of them?” Ariadne said, almost to herself.

“You know what they are?” Corec asked.

“Miniaturized war equipment. I thought they were all lost—the Transport and Logistics depot was in the eastern half of the city, beyond where the cave-in started. These must have been moved to the repository after the war ended.”

It took Corec a moment to realize what she meant. “You’re saying these are real?”

“Yes. They’re meant for rapid deployment, when the High Guard needs to move faster than the normal transports will allow.” She reached for a wagon but stopped herself. “There isn’t enough room in here, but they expand to normal size.”

“That would be …” Corec started, then paused as he considered the ramifications. If an army didn’t have to wait for siege equipment to arrive, it would change the face of war. Siege engineers could ride along with the cavalry or the advance scouts, their equipment stowed away in saddlebags.

“There should be more than this,” Ariadne said. “The rest must not have been transferred to the repository. Or perhaps it was lost during the fighting.”

“I’d really like to learn about the war,” Ellerie said. “If you’d be willing to tell me.”

Ariadne stared out the window, silent. Finally, she said, “You’ve really never heard of the Third Demon War?”

“No, I’m sorry. Even the oldest records don’t mention any wars with demons.”

“Entire Tirs were razed to the ground. Hundreds of thousands of people died. My brother …” Ariadne turned away from the window to face Ellerie. “How could you have lost it all? People should know what happened.”

“You can help me tell them.”

The Chosar woman nodded curtly. “Agreed.”

“Thank you.” Ellerie waited a moment, then said, “The figurines were the last of what we found, except for a statue that looked like a person. It was warded and too large to move, so we left it there.”

“We don’t make statues of people,” Ariadne said. “Do you mean the tunneling golems? There should have been four. No, wait, some are in the western passage finishing off the underground route to the Darkstone—Skotinos—Mountains.”

“Golems?”

“Clay or stone creatures brought to life to serve a purpose.”

“It was alive?” Corec asked.

“Not true life, just a magical semblance of it. When they’re not being used, they return to their natural state.”

“When you say tunneling …” Ellerie prompted.

“They dig out underground tunnels and caverns. They have a gift for moving stone.”

“Is Skotinos a Chosar word? The mountains still go by that name.”

Ariadne nodded. “I’ve heard you call them that, but the necklace translated the word before I could stop it.”

Ellerie glanced at Marco. “Do you have what you need?”

He frowned down at his notes. “It’s not much. And what about that staff Shavala’s been carrying around?” Marco had only learned the staff was enchanted after Shavala had used it to grow the small grove of trees back at the ruins. When he’d tried to get her to hand it over, she’d informed him, brusquely, that the staff belonged to the elven people and that she was going to return it to them.

Ariadne shrugged. “The vasta druids have their own magic. They’re the ones who grow the tershaya. I don’t know why they would have left something in the Enchantment Repository.”

The factor scowled at his notes, apparently not happy with the answer. “And what about those two swords? The ones that belonged to … what was the name? Argyros?”

“The king’s weapons belong to Ariadne’s people, Marco,” Corec said. He’d offered those to Ariadne without clearing it with the others first, but he wasn’t going to back down. “They’re not enchanted anyway.”

“The fancy one’s still worth something. And what about the hammer you took? That belonged to him too, didn’t it?”

“I’m the only one who can carry the hammer,” Corec said. “If it changes its mind, I’ll let you know.”

#

The wood grain running along the bar top must have been particularly interesting—or, at least, Razai couldn’t figure out any other reason why she’d been staring at it so intently for the past ten minutes. Finally, she shook her head and looked around the nearly empty room. Bleary-eyed, she poked Josip’s shoulder.

“Hey,” she said, “we should go back.”

He was slumped face down on the counter, not moving. His only response was a light snore. The village inn in Livadi didn’t serve hard liquor, so the two of them had gone to a tavern after supper. Razai figured she was probably strong enough to carry him back, but she didn’t want to try it while she was drunk. She would send Boktar for him instead.

She slipped off her stool and steadied herself, then walked slowly and deliberately to the door. The bartender called out after her, but she ignored him. She’d been paying for the drinks as they came, so whatever he was saying couldn’t have been all that important. Careful, the whispers said, but she ignored them too. Walking was taking all of her concentration. Outside, she stopped and peered up and down the street. The dark didn’t bother her, but it took her a moment to remember where the inn was. Luckily, there was only one real street in Livadi, and she could see the building from where she stood.

As she started out, though, figures appeared around her. Human men scowling and smirking. Some carried cudgels. The closest one said something, but Razai didn’t speak much Nysan. She only understood one word. Demonborn. Her features wouldn’t have been obvious to them in the dark, so they must have seen her earlier and been lying in wait.

Razai muttered to herself. She’d really had grown soft traveling with a heavily armed group all the time. It had been months since anyone had harassed her for her parentage.

Being surrounded by a mob of angry villagers brought back bad memories. Memories of her mother screaming as the villagers beat her. Memories of the villagers screaming as her father passed through the barrier between worlds and slaughtered them all. He’d had to shift into human form to calm her down—she’d been convinced the massive beast was going to kill her as well. He’d taken her hellside after that. The hells were a lousy place for a child to grow up, and Vatarxis was a lousy choice for a father, but he’d still done more for her than the rest of her family had. It had been her uncle who’d led the mob, murdering his own sister for refusing to abandon her demonborn child.

When Razai had returned to the mortal world as an adult, her first act had been to hunt down and kill her grandparents and her other uncle. They were the ones who’d turned her and her mother out of their home in the first place. She’d slit their throats while they slept, not even bothering to let them know why they were dying—they simply weren’t worth the effort. Her only regret was that Vatarxis had already killed the man who’d killed her mother. The Razai from those days wouldn’t have allowed herself to be surrounded, but that had been over a hundred years ago. She’d lost her edge.

Her heavy, curved knives hung comfortingly from her belt, and the prospect of a fight had washed away some of the drunken haze. But should she respond with fist or with blade? That would depend on whether the men were just trying to look big in front of their friends, or if they actually wanted to hurt her. Should she try to scare them away with her demon disguise? She wasn’t sure she could muster the control for that in her current state.

Then Corec’s voice cut through the darkness. “Gentlemen, hello! What can we do for you?”

The villagers couldn’t understand what he was saying, but light from the lanterns hanging outside the tavern flickered off his mail, and his sword hilt was visible above his shoulder. The mob backed away, some ducking their heads, other simply slipping away between buildings. Soon Razai and Corec were alone in the street.

Hells of my fathers, Razai thought to herself. Now he’s going to think he saved me.

“I could have handled them,” she muttered.

“I know,” Corec said, “but how many of them would have lived through it?”

She glared at him. “Maybe they didn’t deserve to live.”

“Maybe not, but it’ll be hard to buy supplies tomorrow if the whole town turns against us.”

Razai growled quietly in the back of her throat, but let it go. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was looking for you, actually. Boktar said you’d gone drinking, so I thought I’d join you.”

“I’m done for the night, but you can go drink with Josip. He’s still in there—he passed out.”

“I’ll go back for him in a bit. I want to talk to you first.”

“So talk,” Razai said, starting back toward the inn.

Corec kept pace with her. “You said you spent time in Telfort spying on Prince Rusol.”

“I said …” The whiskey was making it difficult to remember exactly what she’d told Corec. That was the problem with lying. “Did I?”

“You said you never saw him, but if he’s a warden, he’s the real reason you were there, wasn’t he? You were spying on him, just like you were spying on me.”

She sighed. “Yes. So what?”

“Would you do it again?”

“What?”

“I need to know what he’s planning,” Corec said. “I can’t go there myself, but you can disguise yourself as other people. You could get in and out and no one would ever know.”

“Once we get back to Tyrsall, I’m done with you. I’m heading to Deece or Chondor—somewhere warm—before winter comes.” Between her wages and her eighth of a share, she’d have enough to live in comfort for a year or more.

“I’ll hire you. Whatever you’re making now. Four silver a day, right?”

It was good pay, and would make her savings last even longer, but was it enough to put up with Corec? Telfort wasn’t as bad as some places in the winter, but it certainly couldn’t compare to the beaches in Chondor or an island villa off the coast of Deece.

“Five,” she found herself saying.

“Ellerie told me it was four.”

“No, I mean I’ll do it for five. Plus food and lodging.”

“I can agree to that,” Corec said.

That had been too easy. She should have held out for more. “And you start paying as soon as we get back to Tyrsall and the shares are paid out. I’ll get my horse and go. I’m not waiting for you and your wagons to get to the free lands.”

“That makes sense, though I hope we’ll only need one wagon by then.” They’d reached the inn, but stopped outside the entrance. “There’s something else to consider,” Corec said. “Going to Larso alone could be dangerous. I’d like to have a way to know where you are.”

It took Razai a moment to realize what he meant. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’m not. Hildra said we should be able to renew the bond if we wanted to. What if something happens and I need to send Leena to look for you? Her Seeking range is short; I’d have to be able to send her to the right area first. Plus, I don’t know where I’m going to end up myself, so once you’re done in Telfort, it’ll be easier for you to find me.”

“After how long it took to get rid of it the first time? Are you crazy?”

“But now we know how to end it,” Corec said. “As soon as you’re finished in Larso, I can get rid of it again.”

Allowing Corec to reconnect the bond would give Vatarxis what he wanted—but would he even know? Razai hadn’t spoken to him since she’d first been bonded, and that had been over half a year ago. She hadn’t noticed much of a difference in herself since ending the bond. Her magic hadn’t gotten any weaker, though it had stopped growing. But it had always come in fits and starts, so it was hard to say what had caused it.

“Six silver a day,” she said. “And a bonus of five gold if I’m actually successful.”

Corec coughed. “That’s a lot of money.”

“That’s the point. Do you have it or not?”

“No, but the others have agreed to share the cost. I can give you some in advance once the shares are paid out.”

“Then we have a deal,” Razai said.

Corec nodded, then laid a hand on her shoulder. She tensed—she didn’t like being touched—but it was over quickly.

“It’s done,” he said. “I’d better go get Josip.”

Despite his words, he waited until Razai was safely inside the building before leaving. As if she needed his protection from a few villagers. She slammed the door behind her.

Out of habit—a habit she’d thought she’d finally gotten over—she checked Corec’s location in her mind. It came back immediately, the sensation annoyingly familiar. She sighed. Once the whiskey wore off, she knew she was going to regret her decision.

#

Ariadne shifted unsteadily in her saddle. The horse Josip had purchased for her in Livadi was good natured, but Ariadne had only had limited experience riding. And things had changed. The saddle was broader and longer than those she was familiar with—a Chosar saddle was a tighter fit, with high slopes in front of and behind the rider. This new, larger saddle provided less support, so she had to concentrate more on keeping her body straight. The horse could still feel her movement, but the commands to guide the creature were more subtle than she was accustomed to, coming more from her legs than from her hips.

The group had left the village that morning, heading west. Ariadne had spent the first part of the day practicing trade tongue with Treya and Sarette, but after the midday meal, she urged the gelding closer to the rear of the procession, where Corec was watching over the five prisoners they’d captured after the battle. Three of the men were driving the wagons while the other two walked nearby. The other wagons and mules had been left behind in the village, since there was no longer any need to carry hay for the animals.

Now that Ariadne was away from the barren land surrounding Tir Yadar, an unease she hadn’t even realized she’d been feeling had gradually faded. Here, in the grasslands, she could pretend Van Kir was still as it once was. There was a sense of familiarity, even if she’d never been to this spot before.

She drew even with Corec and nodded to him. He nodded back but didn’t say anything, waiting to see if she wanted to talk.

“What if they escape?” she asked, indicating the prisoners. Now that they were out of the barrens, there didn’t seem to be anything stopping the men from running. Ariadne didn’t have any particular interest in the prisoners, but she was tired of never knowing what was going on.

“We’ll stay at inns when we can,” Corec said. “Ellerie can cast mage locks on the doors. When we camp out, she can cast an alarm ward, but if they really want to get away, they can probably manage it. We’ve been keeping a close eye on the wagons at night to make sure they don’t steal anything.”

“Should I help keep watch at night?” she asked. She’d started to feel guilty about not contributing.

“If you’d like,” he said easily. “I can add you to the rotation.”

They rode in silence for another half mile. Ariadne had just started to feel like she should try to come up with something to say when he spoke again.

“What were the wardens like in your day?” he asked.

She considered how to answer. “They were advisors to the king, and guardians of The People.” Ariadne couldn’t bring herself to repeat the whispered rumors that the wardens weren’t doing enough to aid the war efforts. All her life, she’d been taught to respect the wardens, and it seemed wrong to say anything bad about them to someone who wouldn’t understand the context.

“Who were they?” Corec asked. “What did they do?”

“Pallis is the First Warden,” she started. “He’s a battle wizard. Was a battle wizard.” These humans didn’t always understand simple concepts, so she added, “That’s something like a war mage or a Mage Knight, but they don’t burn their spells into their minds, so they have to avoid armor.”

“We still have battle wizards,” Corec said. “I’ve met one before. Pallis is an unusual name.”

“It’s an old name,” she said. “He’s the oldest of the wardens. He fought in the Second Demon War.” With Corec already questioning one name, Ariadne didn’t want to mention the others. She skipped ahead. “Hera is the newest. She was the leader of the Mage Knights. I inherited my blade and panoply from her when she became a warden.”

“You knew her, then?”

“Not well. She sometimes checked in on the trainees, but she was too busy fighting in the war to spend much time with us. I only spoke to her a few times.”

“They all lived in Tir Yadar?”

“No, but once the war began, they spent most of their time there.”

“The wardens I’ve spoken to seem almost scared of the other wardens,” Corec said. “They’re willing to talk to me, but they’re worried they’ll end up at odds if they interact too much. They avoid each other so they don’t start a war, and they hide who they are from everyone else.”

Ariadne shook her head at the thought. How could the new wardens be so different from what she’d known?

There was no point in asking, though, so she changed the subject. Something had been puzzling her, and as a warden, Corec might know the answer. “Do you know about the four sources of magic?” she asked him.

“What about them?”

“Elder, arcane, totemic, and demonic. But Treya talked about divine magic.”

“I’ve never heard of totemic magic, but you call the old gods totems, right? It must be a different word for divine magic.”

“But if the ritual failed, then people can’t use totemic magic. Only the totems can.”

“Supposedly, the gods grant blessings of divine magic. If a priest receives a blessing of healing, he can use healing magic.”

Ariadne frowned. “The human shamans always claimed their gods gave them magic, but it was never anything more than smoke and tricks, or a wizard pretending.”

“I’ve seen divine magic,” Corec said. “You’ve seen Treya use healing magic, haven’t you? She’s not a wizard.”

“So you think the gods are real?” Ariadne asked.

“I don’t know about that, but the priests say they are. And where else would the godborn come from?”

“The what?” The necklace didn’t provide a translation, so the word must not have had a match in the Chosar language.

“Godborn. They’re descended from the gods—the new gods—in the same way demonborn are descended from demons.”

Hearing it a second time, in context, allowed Ariadne to match the word to its parts. “Godborn? The gods have children? They’re people, then, not gods! And demonborn …” Another missing piece fell into place. “Razai! You let a demon travel with you? Why? They’re killers!”

“Demonborn aren’t demons,” Corec said. “Whoever their ancestors were, demonborn are just people like any other. They work, they have families. Razai was hired to do a job, and she does it well.”

Ariadne realized she was grasping the hilt of her sword. Demons had killed her brother, and one was being allowed to walk free right here. She’d had suspicions about Razai all along, and this proved it. But she hesitated; Corec and his friends were the only people she knew, and they wouldn’t allow her to harm one of their own.

She let go of the hilt. Razai wasn’t one of the creatures who’d attacked Tir Nok. Everything was different now—the world had changed and left Ariadne behind. The Chosar were gone, but the last remnants of their kingdom lived on in the wardens. If she betrayed a warden, what would that leave for her?

A memory surfaced. “There were rumors near the end of the war that the demons had learned how to take on Chosar form to sneak into our cities,” she said. “Could they have … did they father children? That’s disgusting! What woman would allow it?” Every demon that crossed the barrier between worlds was male, at least so far as it was possible to measure such things. Ariadne wasn’t sure if female demons even existed.

“They might not have known,” Corec said. “The stories about it are that they trick women into bearing their children. I don’t know if it still happens—the stories are all from a long time ago.”

“And gods do the same thing?”

“I guess they must. Or at least they did at one point.”

“If the new gods can have children … if they’re people …” Ariadne hesitated, afraid to ask her next question. “Treya said there are only seven of them?”

“There are supposedly seven who are still alive,” Corec said. “There’s also The Dead God. He doesn’t have any priests or temples, and I’ve never heard his name. The other priests say he watches over the dead.”

“Eight,” Ariadne said flatly, wishing she could pretend she hadn’t heard. “There were eight of them. His name is Zachal.” The wardens had betrayed The People. Whatever the ritual had been, it wasn’t what they’d claimed. They’d taken the power for themselves, and somehow destroyed The People in the process. The one called The Lady must be Hera. Why didn’t she use her name? Shame for what she’d done?

“So you do know of them, then?” Corec asked.

“I knew them,” Ariadne said. “I thought I did.”

She continued the ride in silence, tears blurring her vision.