“The pay is three silver per day,” Yassi said. “You and one other guard. The work isn’t difficult—my friend and I just need someone along when we go out in public. And it won’t be here in Chondor. The factor who sent you to me said you don’t mind travel.”

“Depends when and where,” Lucanus said. The hard-eyed man spoke with an Eastern accent. Valaran or Circle Bay, judging by his name.

“I’ve booked passage on a ship leaving in five days. We’ll be sailing around the horn of Sanvar and then east to Nobitar.” Yassi hadn’t actually found a ship yet, nor did she intend to go beyond Sanvara City, but she wouldn’t tell her new guards the truth until she’d had a chance to spy on them and see if they were trustworthy.

Lucanus chewed the inside of his lip as thought. “Fine with me, Lady Mera. You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“That’s Miss Mera,” Yassi said.

He looked her up and down, then snorted. “If you say so, Miss Mera.”

The fellow was rude, but perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. If he was a spy or a thief, wouldn’t he have been trying harder to ingratiate himself with her to ensure he got the job? That sort of thinking was outside Yassi’s experience, but Lucanus did come highly recommended—at least if the factor could be believed.

“Then I’ll see you in two days,” she said.

After the bodyguard had taken his leave, Yassi returned to the balcony outside her sitting room. The servants had already cleared away the remnants of her supper. The rent on a fully staffed manor house hadn’t been cheap, even for just a single month, but Merice needed a break from traveling. And, in truth, Yassi wasn’t accustomed to rough living herself.

In the time it had taken her to speak to Lucanus, the sun had begun to set over the ocean. The sound of the waves reminded her of Sanvara City. She’d been too young when she’d lived there to remember anything, and she’d only visited a few times since, but she’d watched the place frequently in her visions. At first it had been a dream of a safe haven away from the Order of Pallisur and their hatred of mages. Later, it had become a dream of a haven away from Rusol.

He’d know where she was going, of course. She’d already made one mistake. She’d started out on the road to Westport, the route she and her family had always taken when catching a ship to Sanvar, but it was an almost straight line west out of Telfort. During her first viewing after she’d left the city, she’d found her husband screaming at Captain Tark of the Royal Guard … and gesturing wildly in her direction. Yassi had never been able to hear anything during her visions, but the implication was obvious.

With pigeon post and fast couriers, Rusol could send messages on ahead and have people waiting for her before she even reached the port. To escape the trap, she’d paid the carriage driver extra to take side roads to the southwest until they reached a fishing village on the coast. There they’d found a peddler who was willing to make room for them in his cart in exchange for a heavy silver ring. He’d taken them south to a small port where they caught a ship for the Matagoran city of Whiterock. From there, they sailed to Chondor.

Since the warden bond could only judge direction and not distance, the frequent changes in trajectory and speed of travel should throw Rusol off her trail, but it wouldn’t last forever. Once Yassi reached her extended family and stopped moving around, it would be easy enough for him to draw a line on a map. And of all the possible locations she might be along that line, there was only one that made sense.

But Sanvara City was far, far away from any influence Rusol had. Sanvar was larger than Larso, and the Imperial Guard was more than a match for any forces Yassi’s husband could put together—not that he could send his armies south anyway. There were multiple sovereign nations standing in the way, nations that wouldn’t accept foreign soldiers traipsing through their lands.

If Rusol was going to react to her escape, it would have to be by magic or by stealth. He didn’t have access to any mages who could attack her over such a long distance, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t figure out a way in the future. As for stealth, Yassi wasn’t knowledgeable about what sort of spies Rusol had available, but neither he nor his father had ever seemed to have much information beyond their closest neighbors—Matagor, the hillfolk, and the northern plains. He would certainly send someone, but Yassi would keep a close watch. She could disappear in the vast city if she had to. With a bit of help from her Seeker cousins, she might not even have to spend all her time constantly watching for threats.

There was also the matter of Larso’s embassy in Sanvara City. Yassi’s father Samuel had been the ambassador there for years—it was how he’d met her mother—but if the current ambassador tried to track her down, Yassi was prepared. It would be easier to watch the embassy’s activities than to look for spies.

For now, though, she had another target. Her scrying orb was resting on its stand on the small table where she’d taken her meal. Sitting down and gazing into it, she located Lucanus. He’d left the house and was heading for the central part of the city. No surprise there—a bodyguard couldn’t afford to live in the beach district.

He walked, not spending money on a carriage, so it took him nearly an hour to reach his destination. Yassi spent the time checking on things back in Larso. Not much happened at first. Rusol was in quiet conversation with Magnus, occasionally glancing south by southeast—Yassi’s direction. Then Odwins, Rusol’s newest bondmate, joined them.

The Matagoran wizard gestured all around himself as he spoke, and then Rusol gestured in an exaggerated fashion in reply. It was an odd discussion, as if the two men were pointing out the sights to each other even though they were both in Rusol’s familiar study.

Then Odwins stood back and uttered a long string of words without any reply from the other two men. The vision in the scrying orb suddenly went dark.

Yassi drew in a sharp breath, then tried to reach the palace again. Nothing happened. The wizard must have finally learned the scrying ward Rusol had ordered him to study. Yassi wouldn’t be able to spy on her husband anymore, at least not while he was inside the wards. Worse, she wouldn’t be able to watch his desk for written orders. That would make it more difficult to identify anyone he sent after her, but she’d known it would happen eventually. He’d requested the scrying ward even before she’d escaped, to prevent the other wardens from seeing into the palace. She’d just have to make do. Perhaps the other Seers in Sanvar knew how to break through a warding spell.

That was a consideration for later. For now, she returned her attention to her new bodyguard. Lucanus had gone into an apartment building and knocked on one of the doors. He was welcomed inside by a mature woman with an impressive bosom, wearing very suggestive clothing. Yassi flushed and banished the vision.

The bodyguard’s first action hadn’t been to go out drinking and bragging about his new job, or to sell information to some shadowy purveyor of secrets, or to visit Larso’s embassy in the city.

It wasn’t much to go on, but it was a start—the first step to possibly trusting the man.

When Yassi returned to her sitting room, she found Merice waiting for her. The former queen had been quiet since arriving in Chondor, spending much of her time walking on the beach or reading in the manor’s library. She’d refused to continue taking her new medicine—the one that simply helped her sleep—stating that if she was going on an adventure, she wanted to be awake for it.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Yassi said.

“I saw you were busy,” Merice said. Her face was haggard, and she sounded close to tears.

“Merice, what’s wrong?”

“Rikard is dead, isn’t he?”

Yassi suddenly felt like crying too. “Yes. Merice, I’m so sorry.”

“Everything is so foggy. I remember you and Marten telling me he was doing well at Northtower. You told me I could write to him!”

Yassi closed her eyes, unable to meet the woman’s gaze. “You kept forgetting, and every time we told you the truth, it was like you were learning it all over again for the first time. It hurt you so much! After a point, Marten couldn’t take putting you through that anymore, so he told us to go along with whatever you thought.”

Merice sniffled. “And then I killed Marty,” she said, her voice wavering.

“No! It was an accident. You were trying to help him. Sharra lied to us both about the medicine she was giving you. You didn’t know it was dangerous.”

“They’re all dead. Only Rusol is left. And you and the baby. But Rusol hurt you.”

Yassi covered her mouth with her hand, a gesture she’d begun using to let Merice know when there was something she couldn’t talk about.

The other woman nodded and changed the subject. “And my poor Rikard. The wardens killed him just because he’s Rusol’s brother.”

“Not the wardens,” Yassi said. “Sharra killed him.” She could talk about that. It had been Sharra’s crime, not Rusol’s, and he’d never ordered her to keep it secret from Merice.

“Sharra? No. No! You’re wrong. Why would she kill my beautiful boy? She was Marty’s concubine!”

“She wanted Rusol to be king. He didn’t know about it, Merice, I swear! He killed her for it when he found out. He misses Rikard too.” Yassi might hate Rusol, but for the sake of their child, she would force herself to remember the good things about him. She’d seen and heard enough to know he’d loved his brother. Yet Sharra’s fate showed that even when he did the right thing, he couldn’t control his violent temper. Yassi had been right to get the baby away from him.

Merice fell to her knees with a wailing shriek.

Yassi joined her there on the floor, gathering the woman in a tight embrace and holding her as she sobbed.

#

The mouse disappeared, sneaking through the grasses and weeds around the edges of the courtyard. Shavala cheated and used her elder senses to track it. As soon as it came within view, she dropped the rusted old pot over the small rodent, capturing it.

The hatchling saw what she’d done and came bounding over to claw at the dirt surrounding the pot.

“No!” Shavala said, nudging the little dragon away. “Wait! You can have it if you wait!”

The hatchling ignored her, rushing back as soon as Shavala stopped blocking its way. She’d taught it the word wait and it knew what she wanted, but it only obeyed when it felt like it. It rarely followed her orders when food was involved.

The dragon gave an indignant screech when she picked it up. She wouldn’t be able to do that for much longer—it had almost doubled in size since hatching.

She carried the creature fifteen feet away from the pot before setting it back down. “Wait there!” she said. “Wait and stay still!”

The hatchling raced her back to the mouse, but it stumbled along the way, allowing her to get there first. She slammed her hand down on the pot and held it firmly to the ground as the dragon scratched at the metal. Its claws slipped off and it gave out a frustrated whine before it returned to digging at the dirt.

“Why won’t you listen to me?” Shavala said. The hatchling ignored her, not that it could have understood her words anyway. She’d taught it several commands, and it would follow those commands if it wasn’t distracted, but druids couldn’t talk to dragons the way they could with other animals.

Corec came out of the keep and peered around the courtyard until he saw her. He headed her way.

“You missed supper, but we saved some for you,” he said, kneeling down to hand a crust of bread to the hatchling. “Do you want me to take over while you eat?”

The dragon gnawed a bite from the crust, then dropped it and returned to nosing around the pot.

“I’ll go in a bit,” Shavala said. “I’m teaching it patience today.”

“How’s it going?”

“It’ll take more work. It’s still a baby.” Shavala lifted the pot and the mouse darted for cover. The hatchling tried to run after it, but tripped over its wings and fell to the ground. It gave an annoyed squawk, then climbed back to its feet and began searching through the grasses, pouncing any time it thought it saw movement.

“Did it chew holes in the socks I left in your room the other night?” Corec asked.

She gave him a guilty grin. “It likes the smell. I can’t imagine why.”

“Well, let’s hope it loses interest in my feet before it gets big enough to take a bite out of them. Are you sure it’s working out? If you wait too long …”

“I know, but I need more time.” Shavala had promised to kill the dragon herself if it became a danger, but the more she got to know it, the more she hated the thought.

“The armsmen will be back soon,” Corec said. “We might have a problem when they see it.”

She considered her options as she watched the hatchling hunt. “I can’t keep it indoors all the time. If there’s trouble, I’ll just take it away from the fortress. I can camp farther out.”

Corec frowned. “For how long? I’m worried about you staying alone with it. It keeps growing.”

“Zhailai is coming back soon to help. We’ll be careful.”

“Do you really think it’ll learn to do what you say?”

“I hope so.” She wasn’t ready to admit that it was harder than she’d thought it would be to get the baby dragon to do what she wanted. She’d have to figure out a solution soon. Right now, the creature was still small enough that Leena could take it to Cetos if she had to, but that wouldn’t be true for much longer.

And obeying commands was just part of it. The real goal was to see if the dragon could learn to think of people as friends rather than food. It was friendly and playful with everyone now, while it was small. What would happen when it grew larger?

The hatchling pounced one last time, then squawked triumphantly when it realized it had captured the mouse beneath its talons. It bit the rodent’s head off, then looked back at Shavala to make sure she’d seen its success.

#

“Bloody hell!” Corec exclaimed. His hand had slipped from the spoke and scraped against rusted metal. He’d been trying to get the old sawmill’s waterwheel to spin, but it wouldn’t budge. Not that it would have mattered since the wooden buckets were rotted through.

“What happened?” Treya asked from behind him.

He showed her. She frowned and took hold of his hand, her own hands glowing with white light as she healed the scrape. She looked up at him as the glow faded, then blushed and stepped back.

“How’s that?” she asked.

“Better. Thank you.” Corec indicated the waterwheel. “It’ll have to be rebuilt and the saw is rusted through, but if we find someone who knows how to fix it, we can probably get it running again. Did you find anything?”

“The village is upstream a bit, just past those trees—far enough to be away from the worst of the noise. Most of it’s falling apart, but there are a few log cabins that have held up well. They won’t even need much cleaning.”

“Then the next time Leena goes to Four Roads, we’ll have to ask about finding a sawyer to run the place. Do you think Mother Yewen will know someone?”

“No, but it’s like with the miners, she’ll know someone who knows someone.”

Corec sighed. “I don’t know how we’re going to afford all this. Every time we turn around, we’re spending more.”

“We don’t need a sawmill right now, do we?” Treya asked. “Leena said Boktar only hired one woodcutter. That’s not enough to do more than cut firewood.”

“It’ll be easier to get lumber from here than from Four Roads. We’ll need everything Boktar’s bringing back just to build the forms Ellerie wants on the fortress walls so she can repair them. It won’t be enough wood to fix the barracks, the granary, or the broken stairs in the keep.”

“Maybe Mother Yewen will come through with the money from the town council.”

“It’s been three weeks since she talked to you about it,” Corec said. “You haven’t heard anything else?”

“No, but Leena can ask her when she goes to find someone to run the sawmill.”

Corec nodded. “We’ll ask about hiring more woodcutters too, if Boktar hasn’t already found some. We should head back if we’re going to meet him coming in.” Leena had done a Seeking on the caravan that morning, and said it would be arriving early in the afternoon.

They started back toward the keep. As Bobo had suggested, they’d found the sawmill two miles east, built downstream from a heavily wooded area. The woodcutters could cut down trees and strip them of branches, then float the logs down the stream to the sawmill where they’d be cut into boards.

The water-driven mill was too useful of a resource to allow it to sit idle, but Corec’s plan had grown far more complicated than he’d envisioned. He’d wanted to settle no more than a two-day ride from Four Roads so they could easily obtain supplies, but they’d ended up two hundred fifty miles away. That meant they would have to fend for themselves much of the time.

The distance gave them an important advantage, though—being farther away from any settlements meant fewer people would be in danger if Rusol’s forces did attack. The inconvenience would be worth it, but as the list of tasks grew and grew, it was sometimes hard to remember that.

As they walked, Corec said, “Thanks for coming with me. Shavala’s busy with that dragon of hers, and Katrin’s tired of traveling all the time. She says if we’re settling down, then she’s going to stay in one place.”

Treya laughed. “We’ve been on the road for a long time, but going for a walk was better than doing more cleaning.” She was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. “Actually, I came because I wanted to talk to you about something. When you were fighting the dragon, when it was just you and Boktar, did you cast a new spell? Something to protect yourself from the fire?”

“That was you,” Corec said.

She shook her head. “I lost the spell. Right at the end, Boktar ran underneath the flame to hit the dragon’s leg, but you were still there in the middle of it. Shavala did something with the wind, but I thought it was too late. When I passed out, I was certain I’d let the dragon kill you. Then I woke up and you were fine.”

“I don’t remember casting any new spells.” Corec thought for a moment. “Hildra said King Argyros’s armor had some enchantments she couldn’t identify. Maybe it stops fire.”

“Wouldn’t she be able to recognize something that simple?”

“I don’t know. I’d have to ask her.”

“Do you remember during the ambush outside Aencyr when the wizard cast that spell at you?”

Corec grimaced. “It’s hard to forget.”

She gave him a quick grin. “It melted your armor that time, but it didn’t hurt you.” At his look, she added, “Not much, at least.”

“You think it’s the same spell, but I just never know when I’m casting it?”

“Maybe. We should experiment, like we did with my protection spells.”

“How certain are you? When we were experimenting with your spells, we knew they were there. I’m not eager to stick my hand in a fire on a hunch.”

“We’ll have to be careful,” Treya said. “A regular fire might not work anyway. A dragon’s fire has to come from magic, right? Your spell might only work against magic. We’ll need Shavala’s help again. And maybe Ellerie’s.”

They crested a rise and the fortress came into view. The caravan had arrived, but something was wrong—the line stretched from the village all the way back to the bridge, with the last stragglers still crossing over.

“Why is it so long?” Treya asked. In addition to the dozen freight wagons Boktar had brought, there were sixty more wagons and carts of various sizes, with men, women, and children riding on the seats or in the back, or walking alongside. Other men rode alone on horseback, their belongings crammed into overfilled saddlebags.

“I don’t know,” Corec said. “We hired more people, but not that many. Only half the armsmen were planning on bringing families. We’d better go find out what’s happening.”

#

Treya accompanied Corec to the caravan, but it had started to break apart by the time they reached it. The freight wagons stayed in position, but the others jostled with each other as they made their way off the path, up the uneven slope of the hill to the village, the drivers unwilling to wait for those on the road ahead to move out of their way.

A boy and a girl, both about ten years old, ran past, shouting excitedly as they pretended to look for a dragon.

“Don’t go near the river!” a harried-looking woman yelled as she gave up trying to chase after them. She had a babe in her arms and a toddler holding onto her skirts.

Ral, a retired caravan guard who’d been part of the expedition against the dragon, was following after a man who was already driving his wagon away from the village.

“Hey, you!” Ral shouted. “You, with the oxen! I need your name for the list! You can’t leave until I have your name!” He gave Treya and Corec a helpless shrug as he jogged past.

Corec stared after him for a moment, then shook his head. “Let’s find Boktar.”

They continued into the village, and were almost trampled by a young horse nervous from all the commotion.

“Sorry!” the boy on its back called out to them as he hauled back on the reins. “Whoa! I said whoa!” And then he was past them.

A man and woman had stopped nearby to look over one of the empty cottages.

“What about this one?” the woman asked.

Her husband shook his head. “Nah, see the roofing timbers?” he said, pointing. “They’re rotting away. They’d collapse before I finished putting on new thatch. Let’s keep looking—I saw some bigger places over to the left there.”

Two young men strode past, looking around furtively. “You sure you don’t remember anything else about your grandda’s stories?” the older said. “You were always listening to him yammer on.”

“No, I told you, all he ever said was that the farm was south of the Dapplewood,” the other replied.

“Where’s that supposed to be?”

“That’s all I know. He said something about a place called Skunk Hollow once.”

The first man grunted. “Maybe there’s still an old sign up somewhere. We need to find it before your cousins do.” They passed out of earshot, still making plans.

Treya looked at Corec in alarm. “Where did they all come from? Mother Yewen said people might come to ask us for help, but this isn’t what she meant, is it?”

“I thought they’d want to be closer to town,” Corec said. “There’s plenty of land farther north. Why did they come all the way here? I’m going to look for Boktar.”

Treya started to follow, but she was distracted by a familiar face. “Nallee? What are you doing here?”

“Hi, Treya!” the plump concubine said with an anxious smile. “Are you still looking for a blacksmith? It would have taken too long to try to get a message to you, so we just came without asking. Your Mr. Boktar didn’t think you’d found one yet.”

“I … yes, we still need a smith. You changed your mind?”

Nallee’s smile faded. “Springwater burned down. There was nothing left for us to go back to, so since you’d made the offer …” She shrugged, then gestured to the two people standing next to her. “You know Patrig, but I don’t think you’ve met his wife, Deni.”

Treya nodded to the couple. “Welcome to … well, I don’t know what we’re calling the keep. Welcome to Hilltop Village. Patrig, the smithy isn’t much to look at, but just let us know what you need to get it working again. Do you want to see it now? It’s inside the fortress walls.”

Patrig peered around at the chaos. “Everyone seems to be picking through the houses. We should probably look for something for ourselves before they’re all gone, unless we’re supposed to wait. Is there a rule about it?”

Treya hesitated. “We didn’t know we’d need rules,” she said. “We were expecting six to ten families, not … this. If Boktar didn’t say anything, then I guess it’s all right to look. I’ll come with you to make sure there isn’t any trouble. The armsmen all know me.”

The blacksmith nodded and left his wagon where it was as he led his wife through the village. Treya followed behind, pulling Nallee back to walk beside her so they could talk.

“Where did they all come from?” she asked the concubine, gesturing vaguely to the remains of the caravan.

Nallee looked back. “Who? The families? I told the other Springwater folks about this place, and half of them decided to come with us rather than go to Demon’s Crook. We ran into the others on the road.”

“How many?” Treya asked, allowing her exasperation to slip through.

Nallee gave an embarrassed shrug. “It wasn’t my fault, honest! Your caravan caught up with us and they were already escorting some of the refugees home, but Springwater wasn’t the only village that burned down. A lot of the groups did leave when they got to where they were going, but more people joined along the way. Most of them stayed because of your soldiers. Everyone thinks it’ll be safer here.”

Safer? They were supposed to be preparing for a war. Corec wasn’t going to be happy.