“See you later, kid.”

Nedley dropped the bundle he was carrying into the wagon and turned around. Cenric was standing at the door leading into the wheelwright’s shop, now clad in his old black brigandine. He’d left his silversteel cuirass and mail in the pile Nedley was loading.

“You’re really going to leave?” Nedley asked. “It’s good pay, and we need a sergeant.” Corec had offered the man three silver a day to stay on, but Cenric had refused. Nedley himself was making two and a half as corporal.

Cenric checked to make sure no one was listening. “And wait for Larso to attack? More of those … whatever we were? More killing? No. I’m done with that.”

Nedley nodded. He couldn’t say Cenric was a friend, but he felt a kinship with the man. Prince Rusol—King Rusol, now—had turned them both into red-eyes, and they’d both participated in the slaughter at Jol’s Brook. Only Miss Treya’s intervention had saved their lives and returned their minds to normal. Normal, except for the memories and the nightmares.

“I don’t want to kill anyone either, but Corec and the others have been good to me.”

Cenric shrugged. “If you want the work, fine, but it’s not for me. I’m going to buy a load of seed and head home. I’ve been gone for too long—my wife and sister can’t handle the plowing by themselves.”

“Good luck, then,” Nedley said. He wasn’t close enough with Cenric to push the issue any harder, though it would leave them without a sergeant. As corporal, Nedley was next in line, and he’d done well enough in the battle against the dragon—Corec and Boktar had both said so—but no one would take a not-quite-eighteen-year-old sergeant seriously. He’d figured that out even before Corec had pulled him aside to tell him he’d have to remain a corporal for now.

“You too,” Cenric said. “Stay careful—don’t let the dreams take you.” He left the wagon yard, then headed up the street and out of sight.

Nedley stared after him for a moment, then finished loading the wagon before going back inside. Leena had arrived and was speaking to Boktar.

“… the gold from Duke Lorvis,” she was telling him. “Ellerie says it’s enough that you can hire some carpenters, plus a crew to clear the roads.”

“I thought we were using the armsmen to clear the roads?”

“Them too, but there’ll be plenty of work, both on the roads and the keep. Oh, while you’re here, the others had some additions to the shopping list.” She handed him a slip of paper.

Boktar looked it over. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Leena turned to the children, who were waiting nearby with Treya.

“Ditte, are you ready to go?” Leena said. “Do you have all your things?”

Ditte bit her lip and looked down at her two bags—one small and grungy, and the other larger and clean, stuffed with new clothing.

“Why’s she got to go that way?” Harri asked. “Why can’t she come with us?”

“It’ll take us weeks to reach the keep,” Boktar pointed out. “We’ll be camping out in tents, it’ll be raining half the time, and there’s nothing to do but take care of the horses and mules. You’re tough enough, but let’s let your sister go somewhere warm and dry to wait for you.”

“It’ll be fine, Harri,” Nedley added. “You and I can play cards and dice, but you know your sister doesn’t like those. Miss Treya and Miss Katrin will be there to watch over her.”

Harri frowned, but when Ditte looked up at him, he nodded to her. She gathered up her smaller bag. Leena grabbed the large one, then took Ditte’s free hand.

“Will you be ready to go tomorrow?” Leena asked Treya. “After tomorrow, I may be busy for a few days.”

“Yes, I’ll be ready,” Treya said.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then.” Leena turned her attention back to Ditte. “Say goodbye to your brother,” she said. “You’ll see him again soon.”

“B … bye,” the little girl said in a small voice, tears gathering in her eyes. “No, I don’t wanna go—!”

And then they were gone.

Nedley shivered. He could understand Ditte’s reluctance to try Leena’s Traveling—he was hoping to avoid the experience himself—but Miss Katrin had said it went by so fast, she’d barely noticed it. Ditte would be happier at the keep rather than on the road.

“All right,” Boktar said, “I guess I need to do some more shopping. Harri, go ahead and feed the horses and mules, then stick around here. Ned, how about you go to the Three Orders stable and feed the horses there, then come back and help me hire some carpenters and workers.”

“Sure,” Nedley said.

He left the shop and set out for the chapter house, trying to stay on the wooden walkways when he could. His destination was a mile away, toward the northern end of town, and it had rained again overnight. The mud was sometimes up to six inches deep in the streets.

At the chapter house, he went straight into the stable. The main building always made him feel weird, with all the girls in their clean clothing going about their day, giving odd looks to any strangers who came inside.

The stable was usually quiet, though, as it was mostly meant for visitors. Few of the Sisters who lived at the chapter house owned horses of their own.

Nedley found Duchess’s stall first and scratched her neck. She gave a long sigh. She’d been Katrin’s horse at some point before Nedley met the group, but Katrin preferred her mule, Flower, so Duchess had ended up with him. He’d been visiting her each day since they’d gotten back to Four Roads, just to make sure she was well taken care of.

Dot, in the next stall over, snorted when she saw him lavishing attention on another horse.

“That one is mean,” a voice said. A girl had appeared at Nedley’s side. She was pretty, with frizzy, bright red hair—more orange in it than Katrin’s—and freckles across her cheeks and nose. Her white dress was in the style of the Three Orders students, and she had a brush in one hand. She must have been grooming a horse in one of the stalls when he’d come in.

“Oh, Dot’s all right,” he said. “She’s a warhorse, though. She won’t be friendly unless someone introduces you to her.” Then he realized he was talking to a girl and his mouth went dry. “Umm, hi.”

“Hi!” she said, then caught sight of the sword on his belt. Her eyes widened. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she said breathlessly. “One of the men who killed the dragon! The whole town’s talking about it! These are their horses.”

Nedley stood tall. She’d called him a man! He only wished he was wearing his armor. The silversteel plate would make a better impression than the stained clothing he was wearing. And he’d been working all morning—did he smell bad? He should have taken a bath before coming anywhere near the chapter house.

“Y … yes,” he said, trying to make his voice deeper. “I was there.”

“What was it like?”

What could he say? He couldn’t tell her the battle had been scary and ugly, or that the dragon had cried out in fear and pain as it died, while he and his squad forced their pikes deeper into its body. But he couldn’t ignore the look of excitement in her blue eyes either.

“It was difficult work, but it had to be done,” he said.

A brief flash of disappointment crossed her face at the bland description of the battle, so Nedley slipped his dragon-tooth necklace out of his shirt to show her. It was really just a thin leather cord with the eight-inch, blade-like tooth hanging from it. One of the armsmen had helped everyone drill holes in the teeth with a small wood auger during the journey back to Four Roads. Most of the men were wearing their necklaces in town so people would know they’d fought the dragon and weren’t among the deserters. Nedley thought it looked silly hanging down in front of his chest, though, so he kept his hidden. But he still wore it.

The girl tapped the tooth with the tip of her finger, then stood back and brushed her hair behind her ear. “I’m Kimi. What’s your name?”

“Nedley,” he said. “Umm, Corporal Nedley.”

“You’re a corporal!” Judging by her excited tone, she must not have had any idea what a corporal was. Nedley wasn’t too clear himself what it meant when there wasn’t an actual army. Corec had only assigned the ranks to give Cenric and Nedley some level of authority over the other armsmen.

“Yes, and a squad leader,” he said. That sounded better. “We’re here to pick up supplies, then we’ll be heading back to the keep.”

Kimi’s face fell. “Oh, you’re leaving? That’s too bad.” The smile returned. “But it must be exciting. I can’t believe there’ll be a real lord nearby! And you work for him!”

She wasn’t the first person in town to call Corec a lord, but Nedley couldn’t figure out where they’d gotten that idea. Corec’s father was a baron, but Corec had older brothers to inherit the position. Nedley didn’t want to ruin the girl’s enthusiasm, though.

“I guess it’s exciting,” he said. “The keep was exciting—it’s more like a fortress or a castle. It was a mess when we left, but the people who stayed there are getting it cleaned up while we’re gone. You should see it sometime if you can.”

The girl’s smile changed in a way Nedley couldn’t quite describe, as if she knew something he didn’t.

“Maybe I will see it,” she said. “I worked for his Lady, you know. Lady Katrin—or she will be once they’re married. We were teaching the refugee children to read. Did you know some of them didn’t know how at all? They’re all leaving, though, now that it’s safe.”

Safe, perhaps, but some of the abandoned villages hadn’t fared well. Not all the refugees would have a home to return to.

Nedley cast about for something to say. “That’s, umm, that was good of you to help.”

Kimi beamed at him, but then a bell rang and she rolled her eyes. “I have to go do my chores now, or Mother Yewen won’t let me visit the stable anymore. When are you leaving town?”

“Tomorrow morning, I think.”

“Oh. Well, it was nice to meet you, Nedley,” she said, laying her fingertips on the back of his hand.

He felt goosebumps raise at her touch. “Umm, I’ll have to come back to get the horses tomorrow.” He could convince Boktar to let him handle that on his own. “If you’re here, I might see you then.”

She gave him a sad smile. “I have classes tomorrow. Maybe you’ll come back again sometime?”

“I will!” he said. Surely there’d be some need to visit Four Roads again soon, even if he had to beg Leena to take him.

After Kimi left, Nedley returned to his task, but his mind kept wandering back to her. Was she a concubine candidate? How did one go about doing whatever it was one did to make a contract with a concubine?

Treya would know, if he could get over his embarrassment enough to ask her. He might even be able to afford it. He’d amassed a tidy sum—more than he’d ever expected to have at one time in his life.

Of course, it would take more than just the contract. He’d been planning to live in the fortress barracks to take advantage of the free room and board, but he couldn’t do that with a concubine.

And would she even want to go with him? He couldn’t have made a good impression wearing his dirty work clothes. Perhaps he should buy himself something nicer before leaving town.

At the last stall, Nedley looked back in surprise. He’d finished feeding the horses, but he had no memory of it at all.

#

Nallee stared at the destruction while Patrig comforted his wife, Deni, who was sobbing in his arms.

Springwater was gone.

Nallee had known the dragon was dead before the rumor reached most people. Treya had visited Four Roads a few days after the battle, with that strange southern woman who could disappear and reappear in a different place.

The knights had passed through town two weeks later, confirming the early rumors, but Patrig had decided to wait until the official word came through. He wanted to accompany the bulk of the Springwater refugees back home, and the others had no intention of going until they were sure it was safe.

With the village’s mayor gone off to live with relatives in the east, Patrig had become the unofficial leader of the Springwater refugees, a position which he relished. He’d always wanted to become a respectable man about town, and now he was one step closer to becoming mayor himself.

A few of the refugees did head back on their own once the rumors started. No word had come from them, so everyone had thought they were settling in just fine. Then the dragon fighters returned to Four Roads, proudly showing off their dragon-tooth necklaces and bragging about their parts in the battle.

That meant it was time to go. The weather was warming up, everyone wanted to get back and see how bad the damage was, and it was clear that the townsfolk were running low on patience for the refugees.

The remaining Springwater residents had gathered together for the trip home, making plans about how to get through the next few months. Those who weren’t busy with the spring planting would work on rebuilding the homes that had been lost, and in the meantime, everyone would share whatever shelters still remained—it would still be better than the refugee shelters in Four Roads. The small caravan had been optimistic.

Until they reached their destination.

Nallee sighed. The dragon must have returned to Springwater at some point and burned down whatever remained, including the house Nallee shared with Patrig and Deni.

The refugees had grown quiet at the sight, their hopes fading away as they realized there were no shelters left to share while they rebuilt the village. No one discussed what to do next, but it was obvious everyone was thinking about it. They’d have to live outdoors in the heavy spring rains. Should they send the women and children back to town? Should they build a cheap refugee shelter that everyone could share, like the ones in Four Roads?

The families separated out and picked through the charred remains of their former homes to see if anything could be salvaged.

“I’m going to look through the smithy,” Patrig said. The forge still stood, of course, but the sheds surrounding it were gone. He shook his head and sighed. “All that coal …”

While he did that, Nallee stepped carefully into the remains of the house. Weeks of rain had turned the ash into a sludgy mud which clung to her shoes, and anytime she brushed against something, it left a black smear on her skirts. She found a wooden table leg that hadn’t burned completely away and used it to search through the mess, finally uncovering a heavy iron ring set into the floor.

The trap door leading down into the cellar hadn’t burned. Grasping the ring with both hands, she lifted and pulled, then peered through the opening. The cloudy sky provided enough pale light to show puddles of water at the bottom, likely from rain leaking in after the roof had burned down, but the cellar otherwise appeared intact. That was something, at least—anything stored on the upper shelves was likely safe, including all the preserves, cheeses, and sausages Deni had made. Nallee tried not to think about how much it would cost to replace everything else.

When she rejoined Patrig, she found him speaking to their neighbor.

“I found Old Man Jonson,” Jeffers was saying. “He made himself a lean-to over by the creek, near what’s left of his mill. He told me the others who came back early have already gone.”

“Gone where?” Patrig asked.

Jeffers shrugged. “Wherever they have family, I suppose. Ezra and some of the others are going to head over to Demon’s Crook—nothing burned down there, and they have friends that’ll take them in.”

“But we’ve got to rebuild!” Patrig said.

“Rebuild what?” Jeffers asked. “There’s nothing left, and nobody left to rebuild it for. With Ezra gone, we won’t have a store. Jonson’s leaving too, so there’s no miller, which means the farmers aren’t going to come here to do business. We can’t build a town with four or five families. I’m going to take Senna and the kids to my parents’ ranch. They never evacuated, and they only lost a few cattle. They have room for us. I’ll see you around, Patrig.”

Jeffers made his way back to his waiting family.

It was hard to watch Patrig’s dreams fade from his eyes. They could start over again—they were better off than most of the refugees—but they didn’t know anyone in Low Sands, and Demon’s Crook already had a blacksmith. Nallee liked Four Roads well enough, but Patrig had never wanted to stay in town. There, he’d be just one more face in the crowd.

There was another possibility Nallee hadn’t seriously considered before.

“We should gather what we can and go south,” she said.

“South? Why?”

“There’s a smithy at the old keep. It needs work, but Treya told me it was yours if you wanted it. She’s not sure how much business they’ll have for you, but there’ll be caravans from the trading houses coming through eventually.”

“The keep?” he said. “That’s a long way from here.”

“We’ve got to go somewhere,” Nallee pointed out. “You’d be the first blacksmith there, and what do you think will happen once people realize all that farmland is open again?”

After Treya’s companions decided to take over the keep, Mother Yewen had called a meeting with all the Sisters in Four Roads. An armed force of warriors and mages strong enough to defeat a dragon, occupying a fortified position at the crossroads of two once-important trade routes, would change the political landscape of the free lands. What little political landscape there was. It would be the job of the concubines in Four Roads and South Corner to make sure their patrons saw the change as an opportunity rather than a threat.

Patrig worked his jaw as he considered the idea. “They’ll need swords and whatnot. I never had much call to learn that sort of thing.”

Nallee shook her head. “No, I asked. They already have all that. They brought armor and weapons back with them from Cordaea. The work would be the same as you did here—horseshoes, tools, nails, that sort of thing.”

“That place has been abandoned for years. Where would we live?”

“There’s an entire village there, almost a hundred houses and cottages. Treya said they need cleaning and new roofs, but they’re there for the taking, for whoever gets there first.” That wasn’t quite what Treya had said, but Nallee suspected her friend didn’t fully understand the implications of what she and her companions had done.

“I want to go,” Deni said in a quiet voice.

“You do?” Patrig asked his wife.

“Four Roads didn’t do anything to help! You heard the rumors—Nallee’s friends had to do it all themselves. They have soldiers and wizards and healers. They can protect us if raiders come, or another dragon.”

Patrig took a deep breath, then exhaled loudly. “I guess we’re going south, then. I’ll let the others know.”

#

The dragon’s wing hit her, and then she was falling.

Falling.

Falling.

The ground was coming up fast. And then—

A voice intruded. “Sarette?”

Sarette blinked and banished the memory. “Sorry,” she said, forcing her attention back to the task at hand. She pulled the next wooden drawer out of the cabinet and grimaced at the darkened, desiccated remains inside before passing it to Corec. “Something else for the trash pile.”

He scraped the contents into an old burlap sack, then added the drawer to the stack of furniture which would need to be scrubbed and polished before it could be used.

The group had finished cleaning the keep’s common areas the day before, so the two of them had moved on to the cellar, spending the morning throwing out old provisions. Nothing had been salvageable. Barrels of wine, ale, and salted pork and fish had gone bad long ago. Grains and flour and beans had been eaten by rodents, and what was left was covered with mold. Canisters of nuts had gone rancid, and dried fruits were barely recognizable. Even the salt had clumped together in its cask and taken on a musty smell.

Sarette moved on to the next cabinet, sneezing from the dust. “I know we have to clean things up if we’re going to stay here, but shouldn’t we be doing something about King Rusol? It feels like we’re wasting time.”

“We can’t do much without supplies or men,” Corec said. “We just have to get used to waiting. At least we have something to keep us busy in the meantime.”

“How long do you think it will take before he learns you’re here?” Sarette asked.

“He’ll find out someone has taken over the keep as soon as the knights return to Fort Hightower, but he might not realize it’s me,” Corec said. “I doubt he pays much attention to mercenaries in the free lands, which is what we must look like to an outsider. The knights may send my name along to Telfort just because I used to be part of the Order, but I don’t know if anyone would mention it to him. Even if they do, he might not care anymore—there haven’t been any attacks since we returned to Aravor.”

“So you don’t think he’ll send anyone after us right away?”

“It’s hard to say. If he knows where I am and sends a small group of red-eyes, they could show up at any time, but why would he do it again when it’s failed before? Even if he does, I don’t think we’ll have a problem dealing with them, especially if Treya’s around to remove the spell. I’m more worried about the army, but it would take them months to muster together at Fort Hightower and then march here. We’ll have plenty of warning. Razai is on her way back, I think, so hopefully she’s learned more.”

Sarette nodded. “If things will be quiet for a while, then maybe I should visit Snow Crown now. Once Ariadne is back and Leena is able to take us, I mean. I want to get my trial over with.” And she needed to talk to her uncle. She wasn’t ready to tell her friends about what had happened to her during the fight with the dragon, but another stormrunner would understand.

“This is a good time for it,” Corec said. “The armsmen will be out clearing the roads, and they won’t need you for that.”

Sarette tilted her head to the side. “You want me to keep working with them?” She wasn’t sure the extra training she’d given had been of any use. It was Corec who’d trained the men on the weapons and tactics they’d needed for the fight, designing a plan with a dozen different permutations and fallbacks and then drilling the soldiers until they could manage each step. Sarette’s training had focused on discipline and teamwork, but four men had deserted during the battle. Had she really accomplished anything?

“How would you like to be Captain of the Guard?” Corec said.

“Captain? I’m not qualified for that.” Her few months in the High Guard hadn’t prepared her for a command position.

“It’s ten guards and two scouts. How hard can it be?”

She considered that. “Why not Boktar?” she asked. The dwarven man had decades more experience than she did.

“You’ve been in an army before and he hasn’t. Besides, we’re going to offer him the position of Marshal, which means you’d report to him. You command the guard, but he oversees them. He’d also oversee the stables and any workers who aren’t part of the household staff.”

“That’s better,” she said. “As long as I’m not doing it alone.” But would Corec have asked her to take the position if Cenric hadn’t decided to leave? Then again, Cenric’s experience was as a sergeant. He could handle the men under his command, but he wouldn’t have wanted to deal with paperwork or logistics.

“I’ll still be here, too,” Corec said. “Really, things won’t change that much. We’re just trying to figure out how to organize it all in a way that’ll work now that we’re not going to be traveling all the time.”

“Why the formal titles?”

“Ellerie and Treya think it’ll be better if we pretend to have a full household.” Corec shrugged. “I don’t know about that—I’m not sure how long we’ll be here—but if we need to negotiate any more deals like the one with Duke Lorvis, they think it’s better if we can meet on even terms. The titles are based on a Larsonian duchy. In Larso, the household guardsmen are also trained as soldiers. The king keeps a standing army, but he can call up the lords’ household guards in times of war.”

“So a captain in Larso is both a captain of the guard and an army captain?”

“Well, there are separate army captains, but a household captain can be both. It’s not like what you’re used to, though. Outside of the knights, there’s no formal training like the stormborn military academy. The knights and the nobles make most of the decisions, and the officers take care of whatever’s left over. We’ll have to figure out what works for us.”

Sarette nodded. Maybe she could get some ideas while she was back home.