Present day …

“Heya, Kev,” Corec said, grasping the other man’s forearm. “They’ve got you back out on patrol already? That was fast.”

“They kicked me out of the Order.” Kevik kept his face stoic, but there was a heaviness behind the words.

“Oh,” Corec said, the smile slipping from his face. “Bloody hell. I didn’t think they’d actually do it. What was their excuse?”

“Take your pick,” Kevik said. “Disobeying orders, associating with mages, getting Willem killed.” He sighed. “I didn’t know what else to do, so I came here. Georg’s putting up the horses.”

“They kicked you all out?”

“Just me, but Georg wasn’t happy about how they were treating the rest of us, so he came along. He figures with the dragon gone, he’ll be able to find better opportunities out this way. And Barat sent a message for you.” He handed over a tiny slip of paper.

Corec read and reread the single sentence, trying to figure out if there was some hidden meaning.

“That’s all he sent?” he asked.

“That’s it,” Kevik replied. “Warn Corec he’s in danger. I thought you might know what it meant.”

The paper looked like it had come from a pigeon message, which meant Kevik hadn’t spoken to Barat in person.

“He’s in Telfort now, right?” Corec said.

“Last I heard, yes, but I didn’t have a chance to find out for sure. They wanted me out of town.”

“I’m sorry,” Corec said. “Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten you involved, but you made the right choice going after the dragon. It had to be done, and we couldn’t have managed it without you. You have a place here if you want.”

“As what?” Kevik asked.

That was a good question. With his training and experience, Kevik was most qualified for Captain of the Guard, but Corec wasn’t going to remove Sarette from the position and give it to someone else.

Then he had another thought. “Why not as a knight?”

Kevik gave a short, bitter laugh. “A knight? In what Order?”

“Who says you need an Order?”

“A knight without an Order is just a mercenary,” Kevik said. Then he seemed to realize who he was talking to and grimaced. “Sorry—I didn’t mean …” He trailed off.

“The only reason the knights operate within the Order of Pallisur is to keep them under the priests’ control. It’s the oaths you need, not the Order. And not their oaths, but something you can live with—a code you can follow, to help you make the best choices you can.”

“New oaths?” Kevik said. “Then you’re talking about a new Order. Why? You’ve only got, what, two hundred people here?”

“Over five hundred now, I think. It changes every day.” Plus, they’d only been able to count the people nearest to the keep. They’d received word of other groups settling farther north, and rumors about the south and the west.

“Still, what could you possibly need knights for? You already have soldiers, and there’s no Church for us to serve.”

“Most of the knights didn’t join up to serve the Church,” Corec reminded him. “Osbert and the ones like him, sure, but the rest of us? You, me, even Trentin—we were there to make something of ourselves.” He was having trouble finding the right words to say what he wanted to say.

“That’s not a reason.”

Corec tried again. “Being a soldier is a job—when you quit, it’s over. But you can’t stop being a knight, even if they tell you that you’re not one anymore.”

“You still think of yourself as a knight?”

“Not really—certainly not a Knight of Pallisur—but I’ll always be what they made me. I left some of it behind, but I kept the rest. It means something. It’s got to, or else what were we doing all that time?”

“Is that how you ended up volunteering to lead an assault against a dragon?”

Corec chuckled. “I guess it is. You’ll find the same thing, you know—they may have taken away your title, but you’ll always be you. You’re still a knight in the ways that actually matter, so why not make it official? Back when Matagor had knights, they weren’t particularly religious. Larso’s way of doing things isn’t the only way.”

“You might be right, but an Order of one? I’m not going to accomplish much on my own, and Georg insists he’s ready for retirement.”

“You’ll probably have to spend more time working with the regular soldiers than you have in the past, but we can be on the lookout for some good candidates to recruit. You should talk to Nedley when he gets back from Four Roads.”

“Nedley? He’s a good kid, but a knight?”

“He’s bright—he picks things up fast. I’ll admit, I haven’t spent any time teaching him tactics or courtly graces, but he’s done everything we’ve asked him to do.”

Kevik nodded. “I’ll think about it, but if I’m going to stick around, I need to know what I’m getting into. What’s the deal with Barat’s note?”

“I don’t know,” Corec said. “I haven’t heard from him since I left Larso. If he’s in Telfort, though … have you ever met King Rusol?”

“I don’t make it to the capital much. Certainly not for anything important enough to be meeting with the king.”

“I can’t say for sure why Barat sent the note, but I can make a guess. There are some things I need to tell you …”

#

Leena ruffled Udit’s hair, then knocked on the door. “I just need to talk to Ellerie first, then I’ll show you around.”

The door opened and the elven woman peeked out, her puzzled look turning to a smile when she saw who was waiting. “You’re back,” she said. “Why did you knock?” Then she noticed Leena’s brother. “Oh, Udit, hello!” she said in careful Zidari. “Welcome to the free lands. I didn’t know you were coming so soon.”

Leena had to nudge Udit to get him to reply.

“Hi,” he mumbled, looking down.

Ellerie gave him an uncertain smile, then switched back to trade tongue. “Are you feeling better now?” she asked Leena. “You don’t look as tired.”

“I’ll be fine, I was just trying to do too much,” Leena said. She didn’t want to worry her lover. “I’m going to stop working for the Travelers’ Posts for a while.”

“Is that enough? Maybe you should stop running errands for us, too—Corec’s going to hire horse messengers now that the roads are in better shape, and we’re looking for a pigeon keeper.”

“It’s all right,” Leena said. “I don’t mind, and I still need the practice. I’m supposed to keep building up the northern network.” That part was true, at least, as long as she didn’t do more than she could handle. “I’ll just only go to Sanvar once a week now instead of working there every day.”

“If you’re sure,” Ellerie said, still a hint of suspicion in her tone. “It’ll be nice to have you around more.”

Leena grinned. “Yes, and that’s why I brought Udit, since I won’t be going home as often. I’m going to show him to his room, then introduce him to everyone. Do you want to come with us?”

“Oh!” Ellerie said. “We didn’t know he was coming, and a friend of Treya’s is staying in that room. Maybe he can share with Harri for a few days.”

Leena nodded. “That’s fine,” she said. She wanted the boys to get to know each other anyway, so Udit could practice speaking trade tongue. A shared suite wouldn’t bother him—he’d been living in a tent for the past year and a half.

“I’ll go look for Harri and ask him,” Ellerie said. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, then we can take Udit on his tour.” She offered him another smile.

He flicked his thumb against the side of his nose—a common child’s insult in Sanvar, though Ellerie just appeared puzzled.

After she’d left, Leena turned to her brother. “Why are you always so rude to her?” she asked.

Udit gave her a sullen look. “You were supposed to come home and marry Pavan and then we’d all move back to Matihar together. Instead, you want to stay here with her.”

“Who told you I was going to marry Pavan?”

“Everyone was saying it.”

“Did Pavan say it?”

Udit thought for a moment. “No. I don’t remember.”

“Rohav and Grandmother?”

He nodded. “And our cousins, everyone.”

Leena sighed. “Come with me,” she said, leading him into the sitting room, to a stack of blankets piled up like a rug near the hearth. There was no fire now that the weather had warmed up, but Leena still preferred the spot over the old, rickety chairs they’d managed to save. She and her brother sat next to each other, cross-legged, and she draped an arm over his shoulders.

“They shouldn’t have said that,” she continued. “Those were private discussions between adults, and I never agreed to marry Pavan. You already know why I can’t move back to Matihar yet. It’s not safe.”

“But why can’t you marry Pavan?” Udit asked.

“You like Pavan, huh?”

“He’s nice. He comes to the camp and teaches me Traveling when Uncle Rohav is too busy.”

“He’s a good man, but I don’t love him. That doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends with him.”

“But he won’t come here,” Udit said.

“He might,” Leena said. She had no intention of telling her little brother about the actual arrangement she’d made with Pavan, but it would, by necessity, require spending time together. “And you don’t have to stay here forever, just until it’s safer, or until you can Travel on your own. I’ll teach you for now, and Rohav’s going to visit. How does that sound?”

“It’s all right, I guess.”

“You know, Ellerie’s a lot like Pavan in some ways,” Leena said. “She’s a good person too. Will you give her a chance?”

He hesitated. “Can I still have a dog?”

Leena laughed. “We’ll check around the village to see if there are any puppies. If not, we can look in Four Roads, or even back in Sanvara City. We’re not stuck here all the time, you know. We can go anywhere we want.”

#

Ariadne found Georg leaning against the newly rebuilt paddock fence, watching the less experienced armsmen practice infantry formations.

“What do you think?” she asked, joining him. Ral was standing in front of the soldiers, barking off orders as he led them through the maneuvers.

“He doesn’t know what he’s bloody doing,” Georg said, keeping his voice pitched low. “He was on the ballista crews, wasn’t he? And too old even for that. Why do you have him acting as armsmaster?”

“Corec and Boktar don’t have time for it, and Nedley’s still away.”

“Nedley? Why not Cenric or one of the mercenaries?”

“Cenric went home,” Ariadne said. “And have you ever tried to get a mercenary to teach formation fighting? Enzo and Graeme are working with the men on their swordplay, but Corec didn’t want them handling anything else. Ral will do what he’s told, at least.”

Georg snorted. “What about you?”

“You know as well as I do that I’m not qualified to teach. The dragon was only the second real fight I’ve ever faced, and I forgot to cast half my spells.” Somehow that was easier to admit to Georg than to her friends. “Besides, the Mage Knights don’t fight in formation either.”

“You need to get yourselves a real armsmaster.”

“I don’t know where we’d find someone qualified for that. Kevik already turned it down.”

“Kevik?” Georg said, his voice strangled. “Corec asked Kevik to be armsmaster?”

Ariadne shrugged. “Of course. He’s well trained, the men respect him, and he’s younger than Ral. Young enough that he could stay in the position for a good long while. But he’s going to work with Corec on some other things instead.”

“But Kevik?”

“Can you think of anyone better? It’s a shame he said no. Corec thinks we’ll have to look for someone in Matagor.”

“I … I … bloody hell!” Georg stomped out of the paddock and into the practice yard. “All right, you damned fools!” he yelled. “First rank, pull your spears back and lock those shields together! Spears are for when you have nothing more important to do! Second rank and the archers are the offense. You’re there to protect them, so do that!” He went down the line, correcting the men’s stances.

Ariadne smiled and slipped away, nodding to Kevik, who was watching from a distance. He was the one who’d suggested the roundabout approach, figuring Georg wouldn’t accept an offer it it came from Corec.

She returned to the keep, but before she could make it to her rooms, Bobo cornered her on the stairwell. He shoved a messy stack of papers at her.

“Take a look at this,” he said with a grin.

She recognized the stack, but on the first page, the old title had been scratched out, and a new one written in its place—The Ancient People of the World, by The Last Chosar.

“Well?” Bobo asked.

“You took your names off,” Ariadne said. “This is the second book, right?”

“Yes,” he said. “It’s a neat little solution to our problem of not having any real sources for our information about your people. Ellerie and I will publish the book on Tir Yadar under our own names, but no one has to know we wrote this one too. Or we can use your name if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I don’t think so, but aren’t you worried someone will realize they’re written by the same people? They both focus on Tir Yadar.”

Bobo shrugged. “If we publish both at the same time, some historians will figure it out, but since we’re not presenting it as a scholarly work, they’ll think it’s our speculation about what might have happened, or perhaps that it’s a retelling of a local legend.”

Ariadne frowned. “I don’t want it to be just a legend. People should know what really happened.”

“Ahh, but here’s the thing—hardly anyone will ever read our book about Tir Yadar. There simply isn’t that much interest in ancient history. A legend, though … if a legend is repeated enough times, it will eventually become accepted as the truth. And since it doesn’t contradict too much of what we already knew about the Chosar, even historians may come to believe it in time.”

“How will anyone ever find out about it if nobody reads books on history?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Bobo said. “To start with, I rewrote some parts to make it easier to understand. It’s more of a story now rather than a history book. But if you really want to spread the word more widely, you’ll have to pay for extra copies to be printed and shipped around. And it couldn’t hurt to ask Katrin to write a few songs for you. Songs will travel faster than any book. You shouldn’t expect a miracle here—hardly anyone has ever heard of the Chosar, and a year from now, or two years from now, that will still be true. But I think this is the best way to accomplish what you want.”

“Ellerie thinks so too?”

“Ahh, well, I’d say rather that she didn’t argue too much. She’ll accept your decision.”

“I don’t know about calling myself the last Chosar,” Ariadne said. “I’m not.” It didn’t seem right to use that title for herself now that she knew the truth.

Bobo’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“I think some of the wardens’ bondmates are still around.” She’d never told anyone that Thedan and Ephrenia had been missing from the stasis room.

“That would be …” Bobo trailed off. “They could answer so many questions! We should try to find them!”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Ariadne said. She’d gradually come to see Bobo as a friend, but his curiosity was still overbearing at times.

“Ahh, yes, I see,” he said. He seemed to recognize she wasn’t going to answer any questions on the topic. “As to your point, The Last Chosar is just a metaphor. It doesn’t have to be literally true.”

Ariadne nodded. “Let me think about it,” she said.

“While you’re doing that, you should also consider how you want the story to end. A legend needs to have an ending, and right now, we don’t know enough about what happened after you went to sleep.”

Ariadne knew what had happened, but she hadn’t yet decided what to do with the information. She needed to talk to Sarette and Boktar first, but Sarette was still away.

“End the story with our victory over the demons,” she said. “At least for now.”

#

Ellerie stretched her back in the courtyard, letting her eyes adjust to the midday sun. She’d spent the morning ensconced in her office, figuring out how much it would cost to hire wizards to help with shaping magic. Her plan to turn the deal into a business had been delayed simply because she didn’t have enough time to do the work herself. The shaping she’d done so far had been to help her friends and their efforts in the region.

She’d have to speak with her business partners about the idea of bringing in outsiders, but before she could find Boktar, she ran into Mr. Fenton. He was standing near the partly collapsed lookout tower, staring up at the work being done. In place of the missing upper half of the tower, his men had built two wooden platforms, one above the other. Both were only accessible by ladder.

Fenton noticed Ellerie and nodded her way. “It’s not much to look at, but it’ll be done by the end of the day,” he said.

“It’s good enough for now,” she told him.

“I could send a few of the lads around to look for the quarry. It can’t be too far from here. No one’s going to haul this much rock a long distance.”

“Maybe another time,” Ellerie said. “We don’t have enough people to go cutting and hauling stone right now. This tower is just for keeping watch. The platforms will be fine as long as we’re not facing catapults.” Corec didn’t seem to consider rebuilding the tower a priority, and there was no shortage of other work to do.

Fenton raised an eyebrow. “You expecting to face catapults way out here?”

“Probably not, but we don’t know how the neighbors will feel about someone living here again,” Ellerie said. “Now that the walls and tower are done, I think Boktar wants you to work on rebuilding the upper floors of the barracks and the gatehouse. We’ve got more armsmen on their way and we need somewhere to put them.”

“Mr. Bobo asked us to do some work out in the village. Administrative buildings that burned down, he said.”

Ellerie pursed her lips but tried not to let her annoyance show. “I’ll talk to Bobo about that, but Boktar will know which tasks should be done first.” When the group had been smaller, they’d grown careless about the chain of command—mostly because neither she nor Corec liked talking about it, so the two of them had split up the duties between themselves without ever discussing it. Now that other people were involved, though, they would have to be more careful about sticking to their roles.

As Marshal, Boktar was in charge of the workers outside the household staff. If Bobo wanted the old trade administration buildings rebuilt, he’d have to go through the right people. Corec had final say about which order the projects should be done, and Boktar would enforce Corec’s decisions. Ellerie wasn’t sure where she herself fit in. Corec acted as if he expected she would take over in his absence, but the two of them had never formally discussed her role.

Fenton nodded. “As you say. I suppose I should go find Mr. Boktar, then.”

Ellerie was about to follow after him when she saw a familiar figure leading a horse through the gatehouse and into the courtyard. Her mother’s spy was wearing human clothing and had dyed his hair black again, but there was no mistaking his face. He stopped when he saw her.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Her Exalted Majesty received the letter you sent,” Melithar said. “Eventually. There was some discussion about whether it was real or not. After all, why would a daughter of the royal family be playing mercenary in the free lands? But Vilisa recognized your handwriting and passed it along.”

“I sent that letter months ago,” Ellerie said. “We were still in Four Roads then. How did you know where to find me?”

The spy shrugged. “I made it as far as Hightower before I heard the dragon was already dead, but the rumors said the group that killed it was staying here. I took a chance. Besides, I’ve been here before—I used to come this way when I was heading to Tyrsall. You should know, even compared to the Matagor days, you’ve got lousy security. No one stopped me at the gate. You don’t have a gate.”

“We’re going to replace the gates, but these folks aren’t used to soldiers and we’re trying not to scare them by posting guards all around. Why are we talking about that? Did Mother send a reply to my letter?”

“She sent me,” Melithar said. “I’m supposed to tell you that she will consider your request, but only if you present your arguments in person.”

“What?”

The spy allowed a look of sorrow to cross his face. “She wants you to come home, Exalted. She wants to see you one last time.”

“Last time? Then she’s …”

“She’s dying,” Melithar said. “She’s held on longer than the healers thought she would, but it won’t be long now. Even with fast horses, I don’t know if we’ll make it back in time.”

Ellerie nodded, steeling herself for the coming confrontation. “I can be there tomorrow.”