With the wagons slowing their progress, it took three weeks to reach the nearest pass through the Skotinos Mountains. The peaks Ellerie had matched against her amulet to identify Tir a Tir weren’t visible from this side, but now that she was closer, it was obvious why Ariadne had referred to the range as the Darkstone Mountains. While they weren’t as tall as the Storm Heights, they seemed starker and more forbidding, with vast cliffs and unusual domes and outcroppings where softer stone had weathered away, leaving only a dark gray granite.

There was a checkpoint with armed stoneborn guards near the entrance to the pass. Ellerie waited while Boktar spoke to them.

Finally he returned to the group. “It’s twenty silver per wagon if we’re part of a trading caravan, or ten if we can prove we’re not. Since we’re working for a trading company and carrying goods we plan to sell, I didn’t try to convince them. Marco, you owe me sixty silver. They said there’ll be someone here tomorrow who can lead us through the mountains. It’ll take about eight days to reach the far side, following the route that’ll take us closest to Aencyr. We’re allowed to camp here for tonight if we pull off the main road.”

Eight days to get through the mountains meant they were less than two weeks away from Aencyr, and Ellerie still hadn’t managed to get the shaping spells to work. While she’d memorized both spells, she couldn’t get the mixing spell to combine the components, even after four attempts. She needed more time, and if they were stopping early for the day, she might as well give it another try now. An hour later, after the camp was set up, she was perched on a fallen log near her tent while Bobo peered over her shoulder. She held a wooden bowl on her lap. The bowl was filled with a gray sludge.

“I don’t think this is right,” she said. “The mixing spell worked fine, but this doesn’t match the description.” The resulting mixture should have had a smooth, silvery sheen.

“We may not have translated the description correctly,” Bobo said. “There’s only one way to know for sure.”

Ellerie nodded and began casting the shaping spell, trying to picture a bracelet. The book hadn’t provided any advice on how one actually went about controlling the shaping—it seemed to expect that the reader already knew. Was a mould needed, or did the wizard control the shaping with her mind? Ariadne hadn’t known either.

As Ellerie finished the spell, a form extruded from the center of the mixture. It was roughly circular in shape, but was hardly the elegant band she’d envisioned. She reached for it tentatively. It was solid and cool to the touch, but her fingers left indentations. When she picked it up to take a closer look, it crumbled in her hand.

“Well, that’s not silversteel,” she said. “At least now we know the spells are working, but the formula must still be wrong.”

“I’m not sure what else to change,” Bobo said. “We have all the components, and Ariadne double-checked our measurements.”

Ellerie thought back to what she’d seen as each component had liquefied and mixed together. “It seemed like the iron, the nickel, and the manganese combined more easily than the rest,” she said. “I think I either used too much carbon this time, or the chromium or silver weren’t pure enough. But if it’s the chromium, I don’t know how we’ll find another source.” She’d never even heard of chromium before Bobo and Ariadne had helped her translate the formula, but the Senshall office in Aencyr had managed to help Leena obtain some. “Let’s try adjusting the silver content again. Sterling silver may not be pure enough. I’ll have Leena ask the Senshall office to find the purest silver they can. Let’s hope that takes care of the problem. I’d like to have this figured out before we speak to Hildra.”

#

It had been mid-spring when the group had left Aencyr. It was late summer by the time they returned. It was the first time Corec had ever been relieved to see a large city—they’d been away from civilization for a long time.

After the group secured rooms at an inn, his first step was to deliver the five prisoners to the headquarters of the Bancyran Civil Guard. Marco went with him to translate, and Katrin accompanied them to help keep the prisoners in line. One of the mercenaries, hoping to get lost in the crowded city, made a break for it, but Katrin shouted out to him and ordered him to get back in line. It didn’t matter that he didn’t speak the same language—with bardic magic, it was the intent that counted. The prisoner’s body obeyed, returning to the group, while his head darted around wildly in panic. The other four men remained cowed, unwilling to risk facing any sort of magic. They’d seen too many of their compatriots killed during the battle.

At the Civil Guard building, Marco spoke to three guardsmen before being directed to a man with a captain’s rank insignia. After a long conversation, the factor turned back to Corec. “He’s willing to take them, but if they were acting in service as mercenaries, he’s not sure the magistrate will consider it a crime.”

“Tell him they were acting as assassins, taking money to murder an innocent woman,” Corec said.

When Marco translated that to Nysan, the guard captain’s eyes grew wide, as did the prisoners’. They shouted objections until Katrin ordered them to be quiet. Apparently they’d expected a light punishment.

Marco and the guardsman spoke again, almost arguing at times. Then the man talked to each of the prisoners one by one before turning to Marco again.

Marco said, “The captain wants us to return their arms and armor, and any coin they had when they were captured. Since they didn’t actually succeed in killing Leena, the magistrate will likely allow them to pay a penalty fee to avoid prison. If we give them their things back, they may be able to afford to pay it themselves.”

“No,” Corec replied. “They’re enemy combatants under the code of military law, and their belongings are battlefield salvage. What we took was ours by right.” He hadn’t kept the men’s weapons or armor anyway.

Marco hesitated. “Code of military … ?”

“Northern Aravor Covenant of Military Action, signed by Larso, Matagor, Tyrsall, Circle Bay, and Abildgard four hundred seventy-seven years ago. Just tell him the battlefield salvage part—Bancyra will have a similar law.”

Marco passed along the message. The captain appeared unhappy, but finally accepted custody of the men.

Leaving the Civil Guard building, Marco said, “I think he was planning on keeping the coin for himself.”

“Probably,” Corec agreed. “Which means he can be bribed if our prisoners know anyone in Aencyr. But they’re from the east—they may be stuck here for a long time if they can’t come up with a bribe or a penalty fee. That’s justice of sorts, I suppose. At least it’s better than nothing, and maybe they’ll think more carefully before they take their next contract.”

“We’ll have to come back tomorrow morning, with Leena, to give evidence.”

“That’s fine.”

The three of them returned to the inn and gathered up a few bundles, then headed to the Senshall office. Corec and Katrin waited while Marco spoke to the desk clerk and handed over a sealed letter.

When he rejoined them, he said, “They’ll send a messenger to deliver your letter to Lady Hildra this evening.”

“Thank you,” Corec replied. “And the armorer?”

“He wasn’t able to give me a specific name, but he said their shops are all in the same area, over on the east side of the market.”

“Good. Let’s go. I’ll need you to translate for me.”

The Senshall office was near the company’s warehouses at the northern river port, so it was less than a mile to reach the market district, where they found streets lined with shops, surrounding an open-air bazaar full of vendors hawking early harvests. The press of people in the hot sun was almost overwhelming, and the tall conical hats everyone wore made it difficult to navigate.

“I should have let you take this,” Katrin muttered, referring to the padded overcoat she held folded up in her arms—the one she’d purchased in Snow Crown. The stitching on the left side had gotten caught on a bramble while they were in the swamp. Over time, it had unraveled, and the padded inner lining had shifted around.

Corec laughed. He was already carrying a heavy canvas bag slung over his shoulder. “It could be worse,” he said. “You could be wearing it.”

She frowned. “Do you think the armorer will have something that isn’t so hot and heavy? This was designed to be worn farther north.”

“You’d be trading protection for convenience,” Corec said. “Padded armor is always hot.” Katrin had kept the coat close at hand while they traveled, but she refused to wear it in the heat. Even Corec had left his plate armor in the wagons until they’d reached the mountains. The grasslands had offered enough visibility to see potential threats coming. “You could try wearing whatever this is, once we get it put back together.” He shook the bag he was carrying, which was full of thin silversteel plates of various shapes and sizes. They’d obviously once been attached to some sort of armor.

“But it’s metal,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to use my magic.”

“Maybe it’s better to have the protection in case you need it. Then, when it’s safe enough, you can take it off or switch to the padded coat.”

Katrin smirked. “When is it ever safe enough to do that in the middle of a battle? Of course, if we’d just stop getting into fights …”

Corec laughed again. “I’ll see what I can do. Once we find a place to settle down, you won’t need to bother with it most of the time.”

They made it through the crowded bazaar and found the row of smiths and armorers two streets to the east.

“I’m not sure which would be best,” Marco said, as the three of them looked down the line of storefronts.

“The second one on the left has padded overcoats and doublets,” Corec said. “That’s the one we want. We don’t need an armor smith.”

They went inside and Marco spoke to the shopkeeper, a slender, bookish man who looked out of place on a street full of blacksmiths. It didn’t take long to explain the repairs they wanted on Katrin’s coat. Then they moved on to Corec’s request. He emptied the bag of metal plates onto a worktable.

“Tell him this is armor plating, but we’re not sure what sort of armor it was attached to,” Corec said. “I don’t see any rivets or hooks for brigandine or an old-style coat of plates, but they might have been used as internal lining without rivets.”

Marco repeated the message.

The armorer picked up one of the plates, a rounded piece obviously designed to cover part of the arm, then spoke.

“He thinks the metal’s too thin to be armor,” Marco said.

“Tell him it’s tougher than it looks.” The plates were thinner than the full cuirasses they’d found in the armory, but silversteel was strong enough that even the thin plates might offer as much protection as a normal steel breastplate.

The shopkeeper nodded and started organizing the mess, laying out the plates in the shape of the armor.

Corec had attempted that a few times himself, but there always seemed to be extra pieces. When he’d been gathering up the plates in the armory, it hadn’t always been clear where the remains of one suit of armor ended and the next began.

The armorer continued his work, setting some pieces aside, out of his way, but using others to assemble a second suit of armor. The new one appeared different, though—the plates were of different shapes and sizes. He spoke again.

Marco said, “He says it’s something like a jack of plates—did I translate that right?—but instead of overlapping plates, it has two separate layers. They’re arranged so that the top layer covers all the gaps in the bottom layer.”

Corec nodded. That was better than he’d hoped. And while a normal jack only covered the torso, the pattern the man was laying out was more in the style of a coat, providing cover for the arms and the upper legs. “Can he reassemble it? Tell him we have more, and ask if he can put together a couple of them while we’re still in Aencyr.”

The two men spoke, then Marco turned back to Corec. “Do you want wool or linen? And do you want any layers of padding?”

“No padding this time. Let’s try one in wool, like a coat, and one in linen, with just the upper body, like a shirt or a tunic.”

“You only want to use part of the set on the second one?” Marco asked.

“Lightweight armor for a scout or skirmisher. We’ll still have the other pieces if we don’t like how it turns out. If the armor works, I’ll want to buy some of these plates as part of my share.”

“You’ve already claimed half the equipment from the armory. It’s not going to be cheap.”

“I know.”

#

Hildra wasn’t quite what Ellerie had expected. Instead of Yelena’s elegant dresses, the stoneborn warden was wearing a blacksmith’s apron over her work clothes when they arrived. She was pumping the bellows at an outdoor forge attached to her workshop, but joined them inside after a servant showed them in. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe braid to keep it out of the way, and there was a smudge of soot on her left cheek.

“Your messenger wasn’t a surprise,” Hildra said to Corec in greeting, glancing at the hilt visible over his shoulder. “I felt the sword heading this way a few days ago. Among other things.”

“Thank you for seeing us, Hildra. We have some news, but first I’d like to introduce you to Lady Ellerie di’Valla, of the royal family of Terevas. She’s the leader of the expedition I told you about. Exalted, this is Lady Hildra.” Corec had suggested using Ellerie’s formal terms of address for the introductions, to make sure she was taken seriously.

Hildra looked her over, her eyes stopping at Ellerie’s pointed ears and silver hair. “Just Hildra, if you please,” the woman said. “I don’t have an official title.” She might not have claimed a title, but her tone made it clear she was addressing Ellerie as an equal.

“You can call me Ellerie. I hope this isn’t an inconvenient time.”

Hildra glanced back at her forge. “It’s nothing that can’t wait. Terevas—that’s in western Aravor, yes? The home of the silver elves?”

“Yes.”

“The message said you had need for someone with my expertise. What can I do for you?”

“We were successful,” Corec said. “We found Tir Yadar. We’ve learned a lot—I’m not even sure where to start—but we could use your advice on a few matters.”

“Oh? Let’s sit down.” They found a few chairs scattered around the workshop. Corec moved them closer together while Hildra rang a bell and requested tea from the maid who answered the summons.

“Now,” Hildra said, rejoining them and taking a seat, “what is it you wanted to talk about?”

Ellerie was supposed to handle this part of the conversation, but, like Corec, she wasn’t sure where to start. “We found Tir Yadar, like he said,” she began. “The city had been abandoned and mostly emptied, but we found some things that we need to have appraised. Weapons and armor, as well as some other enchanted items. We don’t know what they all do. Corec thought you might be able to help with that, too.”

Hildra sat back in her chair, looking thoughtful. “A lot of people have gone searching for Tir Yadar. Are you certain? It’s not the only lost Tir.”

“We’re certain,” Ellerie said. “We met …” She hesitated, biting her lip. Ariadne’s existence seemed too outlandish to try to explain.

“We met one of the residents,” Corec said, taking up the story. “A Chosar woman. I found her locked in some sort of magical sleep. She doesn’t know what happened after she went to sleep, but she confirmed it was Tir Yadar.”

“Sleeping for thousands of years?” Hildra’s voice was skeptical. “Could she be lying?”

Corec shook his head. “No. I’ve talked to her enough to know she’s telling the truth. That’s something else we wanted to ask you about—do you know anything more about the Chosar that you could tell us? She’s desperate to find out what happened to her people.”

“I’m not sure,” Hildra said. “I’ve seen a few books over the years, but it’s not a topic I’ve studied. What’s she like?”

“She reminds me of a tall seaborn, but she insists her people couldn’t breathe underwater.”

Hildra nodded. “I’ll try to piece together what I can remember about the Chosar, but it’s been a very long time, and I didn’t know much about them to begin with. As for the rest …” She faced Ellerie. “Are you aware of my price?”

“Corec said you’ll want to study the enchantments.”

“Yes. I’m willing to appraise or investigate any enchanted items you discovered as long as you give me time to examine them for my own purposes. That doesn’t mean I’ll be successful in determining what they do, though.”

“I understand.” Ellerie had returned to studying the lore spell she’d purchased in Tyrsall. It was the most complicated spell she’d ever tried to learn, but she thought she was getting closer. If she could master it, she might be able to figure out anything Hildra couldn’t. “There’s one other thing. Have you heard of shaping magic?”

“I’m not familiar with the term,” Hildra said.

“The Chosar had ways to shape stone and metal with magic, and they could create new metals that don’t rust or corrode,” Ellerie said. She nodded to Corec, who held out the chain mesh of the mail shirt he was wearing.

“Is that silversteel?” Hildra asked.

Ellerie exchanged glances with Corec. “You’ve heard of it?” she asked.

“You can find pieces here and there around Bancyra,” Hildra said. “Especially in the stoneborn cities in the Skotinos Mountains. Are you saying your Chosar friend knows how to create silversteel?” There was a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Not her, but I found a spell book with instructions.” Ellerie slipped a dagger out of her pocket and handed it to Hildra. It was slightly crooked and the blade wasn’t sharp enough to be used as a weapon, but it was at least recognizable as silversteel. “I’ve figured out the spells, and one of the formulas, but I’m still learning how to do the shaping. Once I’ve set the form, there isn’t a way to change it.”

Hildra turned the dagger over in her hands. “You made this?”

“Yes, and there’s another shaped metal that’s better for weapons, plus details on how to shape stone. What I need to do now is figure out how much the information is worth, and how to go about selling it.”

“I’d need to know what goes into the process, and how much effort it takes,” Hildra said.

Ellerie had to decide how much to trust her. If she told Hildra everything, the stoneborn woman might be able to use the information herself. Perhaps she could share the formulas while still keeping the spells a secret.

“I can share some of the details with you.”

#

Corec returned to Hildra’s manor the next afternoon with Boktar and the enchanted items the group had found. Two of Hildra’s servants helped them unload the packages from the carriage and carry them to her workshop, where they found her deep in discussion with Ellerie. The elven woman had gone early to speak to her about Tir Yadar and the shaping magic.

“You must be from Stone Home?” Hildra asked Boktar after Corec had introduced him. “Or Sanvar?”

“Stone Home originally, but I move around a lot.”

She nodded. “My son visited Stone Home once. It’s got quite the history. Your people left Cordaea over three thousand years ago.”

Boktar cocked his head to the side. “I knew we came to Stone Home later, but I didn’t realize we were from Cordaea.”

“All stoneborn are. The earliest references to our people are all from the Skotinos Mountains. We spread out from there.” Hildra turned her attention to the items Corec was laying out on the nearest table. “Now, what do we have here?” she asked.

“I thought we’d start with the weapons,” he said.

Hildra’s eyes went completely black as she cast her arcane sight spell. She examined the two staff-spears, the longsword, and the heavy mace, picking up each item and peering at it intently. Then she lifted one of the arrows out of the small case that held nine.

“This is unusual,” she said. “Typically you would enchant the bow, not the arrows, but I suppose this might provide some extra power.” She returned it to the case.

Ellerie said, “There were also two arming swords that glowed red when anyone held them. We already sent them back to Tyrsall, but we need to appraise those as well.”

“And the staff-spears have different enchantments,” Corec said.

“Yes,” Hildra said. “One is meant to be used by an elder mage. I recognize the spell. What sort of appraisal are you looking for? Do you want to know the true value of each piece, or do you want to know what you could sell it for?”

Ellerie exchanged an uncertain glance with Boktar. “I’m not sure. What’s the difference?”

“The true value is subjective, and will change depending on who you’re speaking to. The market for selling enchanted items is small and exclusive. One buyer might understand the true value of a piece but not be interested in buying it, while another is willing to buy it now, but for less than what you think it’s worth. Do you take the money? Or do you wait for years until you find another buyer who values it as much as you do?”

Ellerie pursed her lips. “I think our investors would be willing to take some time to find the right buyers, but not years. We do have leads for a few possible buyers in Aravor, but I think they’re mostly collectors. Would a collector pay enough?”

Hildra curled her lip in distaste. “Collectors are an unfortunate necessity in this business. Rich men—they’re almost always men—who’d rather look at a thing than use it. Half the time, the only reason they buy a piece is so that someone else can’t. I try to make sure my own work doesn’t end up in their hands, unless they commission something from me, but I do sell other pieces to them. They’ve got the money for it.”

“What do you think we should do?”

“Don’t try to evaluate the weapons in too much detail. You’ll end up with prices you’ll never be able to sell them for. I’ll give you two hundred gold for each, right now, if you want. Maybe fifty for the case of arrows. In all honesty, at two hundred, I’ll make a decent profit on each piece, but it’ll take me time and effort to find the right buyers. That profit is my fee for doing the work.”

“The staff-spears are already spoken for,” Corec said.

“A shame—I have a bondmate who’d love to get his hands on the elder spear. So, just the mace and the sword then?”

“Two hundred seems low,” Ellerie said. “What about two fifty?”

Hildra lips quirked up in a brief smile. “Two hundred is my standard rate. I don’t go higher than that except for something truly exceptional, and unless Corec’s putting his sword up for sale, none of these qualify.”

Ellerie frowned, but nodded. “I’ll need to check with Marco, our investors’ factor. If he agrees to that price, I can let you know tomorrow.”

“Very well. And what else do you have?”

“There’s this,” Boktar said, pulling the blanket off of the tower shield they’d found. “It’s too damned heavy to carry around.”

Hildra’s eyes went black again as she examined the shield. “It blocks arcane spells,” she said. “You don’t want to keep it?”

Ellerie shot a questioning glance at Corec, but he just shrugged. There were limited ways to use a shield in battle if the shield was too heavy to move around easily. Being able to block magic didn’t change that—he couldn’t ask the enemy wizards to aim their spells at a specific spot.

“If Boktar doesn’t want it, I say we sell it,” he said.

“I don’t,” Boktar said.

Hildra hefted the shield, needing both hands to move it. “I see what you mean. You normally carry a shield?” she asked him.

“Yes.”

She went to the far side of her workshop and lifted a heater shield off of the wall. The surface was made of a silvery-white metal. Returning with it, she said, “I’ll trade you straight up for this. It melts any metal weapons that strike it. Not enchanted weapons, but others.”

“Melts?”

Hildra grinned. “Do you want to try it? I’ve got an old sword around here somewhere.” She slid open the rolling door that led out to her smithy, returning with a plain steel backword that had a chip near the end of the blade. “You’ll have to hit it hard, like you’re in a fight,” she said, handing it to Boktar. “If you just tap it, it won’t do anything.”

Boktar braced the shield upright against a bench, then stepped back and slammed the blade against it. The result happened instantly as the blade broke in two at the point of impact. The bottom half, still connected to the hilt, ended in a jagged edge that glowed red as it cooled. The top half fell to the floor with a clang, melted steel splattering nearby. More molten metal ran down the face of the shield and dripped to the ground, leaving the surface clean and unmarked.

Boktar stared for a moment. “Do you really want to get rid of this?” he asked.

His voice was uncertain, and Corec couldn’t blame him. The thought of that shield in battle would be terrifying if it was on the wrong side.

“I just bought it two weeks ago,” Hildra said. “I could find a buyer easily, and I’ll admit it’s likely worth more than the one you’re getting rid of, but I don’t have a use for this one and I do have a use for that one.”

“What sort of use?” Corec asked.

“I want to study it. I’ve seen this enchantment before but haven’t managed to replicate it. I’d like to give it another try. When I’m finished, perhaps I’ll find a buyer.”

Boktar lifted the new shield and strapped it onto his left arm, testing its weight. “If you’re offering, I’d be a fool to refuse. I’ll take it.”

“Wait,” Ellerie said. “We still need to appraise the other one.”

“Let’s call it a hundred and fifty,” Hildra said. “This one would go for more, but the other shield will be harder to sell, as heavy as it is.”

They continued examining the items. Hildra didn’t recognize the enchantments on the golden circlet, the spectacles, or the silver cuff bracelets, but she was already familiar with spellmail, and suggested setting the price at one hundred eighty gold.

“You should keep that,” Boktar said to Ellerie.

“You know I don’t like wearing armor,” she told him.

“Because it interferes with your magic. But if this doesn’t …”

“It’s not just that. I need to be able to move, too.”

“Spellmail is very flexible,” Hildra put in. “You don’t even notice it’s there. I wear it myself when I think I’ll need something more than my barrier shield spells.”

Ellerie frowned down at it. “What about Katrin? She could use it.”

“Katrin tries to stay out of the fighting,” Corec pointed out. “You don’t.”

“I suppose I could try it and see.”

Hildra said, “If you know someone else who could wear it, I can let you know if I ever run across another suit. It could take years, though—they’re quite rare.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Corec said.

He showed Hildra the siege engine figurines next. During the trip to Aencyr, Ariadne had demonstrated how to activate them. They worked just as she’d said, turning into full-sized versions of themselves, completely functional.

The other warden smiled when she saw them. “I’ve made something like this myself. Not a bridge, though. That would have come in handy a few times.”

“How much do you think they’re worth?” Corec asked.

“That’s tricky. Think about it—if you manage to use them at just the right moment, they’re invaluable, but most of the time, they’re not worth much more than regular equipment. And they’re fragile.”

“How so?” Ellerie asked.

“Take a look here,” Hildra said, holding up one of the freight wagon figurines. “The wheels are wooden, with a metal rim. Just a normal wagon wheel, and it’ll break just as easily as any other wheel. But you can’t replace it because the new one wasn’t part of the original enchantment. When you shrink the wagon, the new wheel will remain its natural size. You can’t even replace a single nail. Once a piece breaks, the device is useless unless you can fix it with something that was part of the enchantment. I wouldn’t pay more than eighty for the entire set.”

“I’ll take them for eighty if the others agree they’re worth it,” Corec said.

Ellerie furrowed her brow. “Really?”

“It’ll give us a start on some defenses, and they’re portable if we need to change locations.”

“Defenses?” Hildra asked.

“It’s something I didn’t want to bother you with the last time I was here,” Corec said. “Do you know anything about Seven?”

“Only that he’s a man.”

“We believe he’s the heir to the throne of Larso, Prince Rusol. Larso is where I grew up. Rusol—or someone around him—keeps sending demon-controlled troops to attack me, but I don’t know if it’s because we’re both wardens or because Larso follows the Church of Pallisur. The Knights of Pallisur kicked me out when they learned I was a mage, and word might have gotten back to the capital. I’m hoping it’s all some big mistake, but the last time it happened, his men killed half of a village waiting for us to arrive. We want to make sure he doesn’t do that again. I’m sending someone to Larso to watch him while the rest of us try to draw any more attacks away from other towns.”

Hildra didn’t show any surprise at the story, just tapping her lips thoughtfully. “He’s bonded a demonborn, then?”

“Or a demon, if that’s possible.”

“Not that I know of, though I’ve never tried it. Warden fighting warden …” She sighed. “That concerns me. You have the right idea, I think, to draw him away from other people. I don’t recall any of the wardens ever taking up arms against the others before, though Badru and Kono don’t say much about the ones who died before I was chosen. You don’t even know if this Rusol knows you’re a warden?”

“No, though if he does, that makes more sense than any other explanation I can think of.”

“Not a very good one, though. Has he attacked the other wardens?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I suppose I should keep a closer watch around here just in case. If I hear from Badru, I’ll ask him about it, but he hasn’t contacted me in a while.”

“I should have told you before,” Corec said. “I didn’t think Rusol would know who you are, or have any way to get to you.”

“He probably doesn’t, but it can’t hurt to be safe,” Hildra replied. “This place is easier to defend than it might look, but the practice will be good. There hasn’t been any excitement around here in a long while. Now, what else do you have to show me?”