Yassi’s family had given up their nomadic, goat-herding ways long ago, but they’d maintained their ancestral camp along the coastline at the edge of Sanvara City. The water there was too shallow for deep-hulled vessels, but those who lived in the camp plied their trade as fishermen by sailing small skiffs out into the little cove they’d claimed as their own.

Most of Yassi’s relatives preferred to live and work in the city itself, taking advantage of the more metropolitan lifestyle, but any member of the extended family was welcome home at any time.

It wasn’t safe for Yassi to stay at the camp—the location was too obvious—but she’d been a regular visitor since arriving in Sanvar.

This time, though, she hadn’t come for a social visit. Her aunt was waiting impatiently outside one of the huts.

“I sent the messenger four hours ago,” Saira said. “What took so long?”

“I couldn’t find any carriages at this time of day, and Merice wanted to come with me,” Yassi told her. She’d left the former queen playing on the beach with the younger children.

“Well, the Seeker is here—she’s been waiting this whole time. She might work out as a bodyguard, too.” Saira led Yassi into the hut. There they found a woman of around thirty years of age, dressed in men’s clothing in a modern Zidari style. A scimitar hung from her sword belt.

The woman scowled. “I was starting to wonder if you’d changed your mind, Your Majesty.”

“I apologize for the delay,” Yassi said. “But please, call me Mera, at least outside this camp. I’m trying not to attract any attention.”

“So your aunt said. My name’s Narini. What is it you’re looking to Seek?”

“My husband has become concerned that there may be a threat against our child’s life,” Yassi said, patting her belly. She was visibly pregnant now. “He sent me away for our safety, but I’d like to make sure I wasn’t followed.” The demonic compulsion didn’t prevent her from lying, and she’d managed to come up with a half-truth that didn’t trigger a compelled response. She hadn’t convinced everyone, though—her grandparents seemed to think Rusol had sent her away in some sort of disgrace. Yassi wasn’t sure whether Saira believed her or was just humoring her.

“Followed by who?” Narini asked.

“That’s what I need your help with,” Yassi said. “If I knew who they were, I could See them.” After arriving in the city, she’d kept up a constant stream of viewings on her surroundings, but she’d found it impossible to locate a ship sailing on the ocean when she didn’t know which ship it was, nor who was on it.

Narini grunted. “Seeking’s not much different than Seeing in that regard. I’d need more details. Where I can help is in looking for imminent threats. I can Seek out someone who’s nearby and planning to cause you harm, but it takes a lot of effort to keep that up for long periods of time. It’s better to stay in a safe location and only venture out if you have to.”

“I have a house in the orange grove district,” Yassi said. “I don’t plan on traveling anytime soon.” It was Merice who’d paid for the property, spending a fraction of what she’d gotten for selling off her extravagant jewelry. Yassi had to be more careful with her own coin.

“That’ll work, if you can secure the entrances. How many guards do you have?”

“Just one.” Lucanus had stuck around after Yassi announced she was staying in Sanvar. The other man she’d hired had left after learning the voyage to Nobitar was a lie. He’d been more interested in a paid ride east than in a long-term job.

Narini raised an eyebrow. “One guard? You’re a queen, aren’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean the same thing in Larso as it does elsewhere. It’s more of an honorary title—I’m just the king’s consort.”

The woman gave Yassi a suspicious look but let the matter pass. “You’ll need at least one more guard, even if you hire me. How long is the contract?”

“At least until the child is born,” Yassi said. “After that, I’m not sure.” With two guards and a Seeker, plus her half of the servants’ wages, she would be running out of money by then. She’d have to find some way to support herself.

“I’ll need to see the place where you’re staying,” Narini said. “I won’t agree to a contract until I know what’s involved.”

Yassi figured she should ask some questions of her own. “Have you done this sort of work before?”

“I spent the last five years working as a bodyguard in x’Chxlthliss,” Narini said. She managed the name of the desertfolk city with ease.

“You lived with lizardfolk for five years?”

“I wasn’t interested in working for the Imperial Seeker corps,” Narini said. “The lizards made the next best offer.”

Yassi nodded. “Can you come to the house tomorrow? If you take Parade Street to the orange grove district and go west—”

Narini interrupted her. “I’ll find you.”

Yassi nodded. “Tomorrow, then.”

After Narini left, Yassi turned to her aunt. “I should get going as well.”

“You can’t stay for supper?” Saira asked.

“Lucanus is waiting for us, and I told the cook we’d be eating at home. You’re still coming out tomorrow night, though, right?”

“Yes. Mother’s complaining that you’re making her try northerner food, but she wants to see where you’re living.”

Yassi grinned and said goodbye to her aunt, then went in search of Merice. She found her near the water, kneeling in the sand with Azad, one of Yassi’s young cousins.

“Yassi! Want to make sand monsters with us?” the boy asked. He’d piled wet sand in a long line and was teaching Merice how to shape it into a sea serpent.

Yassi smiled at him. “Maybe some other time. If I got down there, I don’t think I could get back up again. Merice, are you ready to go?”

“Oh, I suppose I should,” Merice said. “Help me up?”

Yassi gave her a hand.

The voyage south had been difficult. Merice had mourned her son all over again as her memories continued to return, but she’d finally begun to take some small joy in life once more. She was happiest around children, and seemed intent on playing grandmother to Yassi’s child once it was born, regardless of their actual relationship.

Before the two of them left the camp, Yassi closed her eyes and did a viewing on the surrounding area. She didn’t See anyone suspicious, just the normal mix of residents and workers who inhabited this corner of the city. Lucanus was the only northerner she could find. She’d had him wait outside the camp as usual—her family knew her real name, and she wasn’t ready to tell the bodyguard the truth.

When Lucanus saw them walking his way, he gave a sharp whistle, waving to a disreputable-looking man who was watering his horse at a trough. The man looked up, then scurried back to a light, two-wheeled carriage, which he pulled over to re-attach to the horse’s harness.

“Found us a ride,” Lucanus said. “I’ll hold onto the back.” The carriage only had one spot for the driver and two seats under the canopy for passengers, but beggar children often caught rides through the city by dodging the tall wheels and finding a foothold on the rear of the vehicle.

Even with the carriage, it took half an hour to reach the orange grove district. Not that there were many orange trees there—they’d been torn down over a century earlier to make room for the neat rows of homes that had taken their place.

The house Yassi shared with Merice was no mansion, but it was comfortably large for the two of them and their few servants. The grounds were small, just a dozen raised flower beds and a tidy lawn of local grasses. A gardener came by once a week to take care of it all. Like the other homes on the street, the property was surrounded by wrought-iron fencing.

The neighborhood was new enough that it reflected influences from northern building styles. Merice had been more comfortable with that than with the local styles they’d looked at first.

After they’d arrived at their destination, Lucanus paid off the driver and sent him on his way.

Merice rubbed the back of her neck. “I think I’ll take a nap before supper,” she said. “This sun is really too much in the afternoon.”

“We’ll go out earlier next time,” Yassi promised.

“If you two are staying here, I’m going to go try to find someone who can reinforce the shutters,” Lucanus said. While the house was generally northern in style, it followed the local custom of using lightweight screens or shutters for the windows, rather than panes of glass. The bodyguard hadn’t been happy with how easy it would be for an intruder to remove the shutters from the outside.

With Merice and Lucanus otherwise occupied, Yassi retreated to her bedroom and sat down with her scrying orb. Every day, she spent an hour or more searching for whoever Rusol had sent after her. She wasn’t sure who it would be, but she knew he’d send someone.

Today, she started her search with Magnus, then added Kolvi and Sir Barat for good measure. Magnus and Kolvi were blocked from her vision, likely still behind the new scrying wards in the palace. Barat was in a war camp, in the same location he’d been for the past week. His mercenary forces, their numbers growing by the day, had laid out their tents in neat rows near a fortress town guarded by Larsonian soldiers and knights. Based on the appearance, it had to be Fort Hightower. What was Rusol up to?

In any case, Barat was nowhere near Sanvar, so Yassi turned her attention to the docks. She checked each ship she didn’t recognize from previous days, particularly those with northern crews. She didn’t find anyone familiar, but that didn’t mean anything—passengers were unlikely to remain aboard ship after arriving at their destination.

Her next viewing was of the Larsonian embassy, and there, her heart started thumping in her chest.

Her parent were outside, directing a group of porters in moving their belongings into the building. The embassy had been the family’s home once, back when Yassi’s father had served as the ambassador, but that was unlikely to be the reason why they’d come all this way.

Yassi had been blocked from Seeing her parents for weeks, and she’d assumed Rusol had moved them into the palace, inside the warding spell. Instead, he must have had Odwins cast the spell directly on them so they could move in secret.

She’d worried for months about who her husband would send after her. Would it be one of his other bondmates? A group of soldiers? Or would he launch some sort of political ploy?

Instead, he’d sent the two people she absolutely couldn’t avoid.

#

Nedley batted his opponent’s wooden practice sword out of the way with his shield, using the motion to put himself into position to launch a backswing that caught the man on his unprotected side.

“Point to Nedley!” Georg announced. “That’s ten-three. Enzo, you’re taking too long to get your shield in position.”

Enzo was panting. “He’s too damned fast!” the former mercenary said.

“We still have some of the small shields left if you want one,” Nedley told him. Enzo was using his heavy wooden heater shield rather than one of the round silversteel shields from Tir Yadar.

“They’re too small to cover anything!”

“They seem to do the job well enough against a single opponent,” Kevik said. The knight had been helping Georg evaluate the soldiers’ skills with different weapons. “Though I wouldn’t want to face a company of archers with one.”

“All right, we’re done for the day!” Georg said. “You’re back here tomorrow, crossbows, and then you rotate to watch duty the day after.” He paused for a moment. “Well? Go on, already!”

Nedley’s squad mates grabbed their gear and headed off in different directions. While duties were all organized by squad, not everyone in this group would remain in Nedley’s squad. After Sarette chose a third squad leader, she would be reforming the groups so they could start focusing on different areas. Ral had already been selected to command the siege weapons, but no one had told Nedley what his own area of responsibility would be.

He’d made it almost as far as the gatehouse when Kevik caught up with him.

“You’re not bad there with a blade,” the man said. “Your hammer work needs more practice, though.”

“Yes, sir,” Nedley said, suddenly nervous. Boktar had only shown him the basics of using a warhammer, but it was the knights’ preferred weapon for dealing with an opponent in plate armor. Nedley hadn’t thought he’d done any worse than the rest of his squad.

“Has Corec taught you how to use a lance yet?” Kevik asked.

“No.”

“We’ll have to do something about that. Come see me tomorrow and we’ll try it out. I’ve already cleared it with Georg.”

“I don’t have a warhorse,” Nedley said. Horses bred and trained to charge into battle were rare—and expensive.

“I’ll talk to Corec about getting some good horses. We’ll need them if we’re ever going to build up a cavalry unit. For now, you can borrow Dusty, but we’ll have to go south of town to practice. There’s not enough room here, of course.” Kevik gave him a nod of farewell, then headed off in the direction of the keep.

Cavalry? Was that why the knight had sought him out? Nedley hadn’t had any cavalry training whatsoever, and it didn’t explain the warhammer comment. Warhammers could be used from horseback, but they weren’t common among cavalry. They were more effective as a secondary weapon for infantry.

Nedley wasn’t sure he liked the idea of fighting from horseback. Wouldn’t Corec or Sarette have mentioned something before now if they wanted him to become cavalry? It took entirely different skills than what they’d been teaching him.

He’d have to ask, he supposed. Sarette would be the best person to talk to. Corec was too good at convincing people to do things.

Nedley headed out through the gatehouse, waving to the guards on duty, then made his way to his cottage on the far side of the village. He still didn’t have a roof. He’d been trying to negotiate with some of the builders about adding a second floor, but even though they were almost done with their work on the fortress, they had plenty of other potential customers vying for their attention.

Back home—if it could be called that—Nedley washed up and changed into nicer clothing. Corec and Boktar had asked him to meet them at the tavern that evening, and he couldn’t go smelling like he’d been sparring all day. Thankfully, the village’s southernmost communal well had finally been repaired, giving him a shorter walk to get water.

When he arrived at the tavern, he paused in the doorway, finding a larger crowd than he’d expected—not just Corec and Boktar, but also Katrin, Treya, Bobo, and Ariadne.

“Come on in, Ned,” Boktar said, then waved to Katrin’s brother behind the counter. Barz brought over another ale.

“What’s going on?” Nedley asked, taking a seat.

Corec grinned. “It’s come to our attention that you turned eighteen while you were in Four Roads. We didn’t want to miss your birthday again.”

“Tonight is … for me?”

“Sure is, so drink up!”

“I’ll buy a round for that!” called out Ezra from his regular spot in the back corner of the tavern. The shopkeeper had appropriated the table as a place to do business while he waited for the builders to start work on his new store. He was keeping his trade goods locked up in one of the old warehouses, and once or twice a day, he’d head out there to fulfill any orders he’d received.

A few of the other patrons cheered at Ezra’s offer. He looked flustered for a moment, apparently not having intended to include the whole tavern, but then he just gave a shrug.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get everyone here tonight,” Corec said to Nedley. “We didn’t want to keep putting it off.” Ellerie, Leena, and Shavala were all away in Terevas, and Sarette had taken the new armsmen on a long-range patrol to get an idea of their capabilities.

Boktar lifted a blanket-wrapped bundle from where it had been hidden below the table. “Ellerie asked me to give you this,” he told Nedley.

Nedley unfolded the blanket to find a gleaming silversteel breastplate and backplate, in the same style as his current armor.

Corec chuckled. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice you were bursting at the seams? It’s just the cuirass for now—there should be enough room for you to grow into it. We figured we’d wait to see how much taller you’re going to get before we replace the vambraces and greaves.”

“But how did she … ?” Nedley asked.

It was Boktar who replied. “We had most of what she needed already, and she brought back some more of that pure silver from Terevas. Corec helped her figure out the right size.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to take back the old armor,” Corec said. “We can’t afford to just give away a full suit of silversteel. But I told you we’d do something if you outgrew it, so I wanted to make good on that promise.”

“Thank you!” Nedley said. He’d worried he would have to give up his plate armor when it no longer fit, but it seemed his friends had anticipated the problem.

They had to pause their conversation then as other patrons in the tavern, some of whom had traveled south in Nedley’s caravan, came over to offer their congratulations.

#

Corec waved his hand in front of Nedley’s face. “You still with us, Ned?” he asked. The young man was glassy-eyed, having had a bit too much to drink.

“Wh - what? I’m awake!”

Boktar chuckled. “It’s probably about time we break things up.”

The party had gone on until late, giving everyone a rest from the work they’d been doing. It had felt like back in their traveling days, when they would stay in village inns night after night, spending their time in the common rooms.

Most of the customers who’d been in the tavern at the beginning of the party were gone, but others had arrived to take their place, including some Corec didn’t recognize. Two tables were full of men he’d never seen before. While the newcomers had eyed the festivities with some annoyance, they’d kept to themselves. Corec figured tomorrow would be soon enough to welcome them to the village.

Bobo was snoring, slumped down on the table with his head resting on his arms. Treya tried shaking his shoulder, but he didn’t wake.

She shrugged. “We might have to leave him here,” she said. Bobo had lost weight during their travels, but he was still a hefty man.

Corec nodded. “I’ll walk Nedley back to his place,” he said, then tugged on the young man’s sleeve. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” Nedley asked. It seemed he hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation.

“You need to sleep off the drink.”

“Oh.” Nedley thought about that for a moment. “Yes.”

Corec picked up Nedley’s new armor and headed for the door. As he went by the nearest table of strangers, he got a closer look at them. They had a hard-edged appearance that seemed out of place, and two were wearing sword scabbards on their belts. The others had knives or walking cudgels close at hand.

Fighters, then, all of them. The other table looked to be the same. Were they just taking advantage of the newly opened roads, or had they come looking for work?

Ellerie had brought back enough gold that the group could afford to hire more soldiers, but Corec didn’t like having this many unfamiliar armed men within the fortress walls.

He paused to talk to them. “Gentlemen,” he started, and then chaos broke out.

The nearest man grabbed a cudgel from the table, standing up to swing at Corec’s head. Light rippled as Corec’s shield spell deflected the attack. He bashed the man with the cuirass he was carrying just as another fellow tried to stab him with a dagger. The shield barrier flared again.

After that, the whole room devolved into a brawl.

Corec threw the cuirass at the second attacker and drew his long knife—the only weapon he had with him—while his other combat spells snapped into place.

He slashed at the man, but then the flare of a different shield spell caught his attention. Someone had tried to attack Katrin, triggering the ring she’d taken from Tir Yadar.

Corec didn’t know the ring’s limits, so he rushed Katrin’s attacker, barreling into him and knocking him to the ground, then stabbing him in the gut and leaving him to bleed out.

Another attacker approached but Boktar broke a chair over the man’s back, then pummeled him with the remaining pieces.

Corec pushed himself to his feet just as two more men came at him. He took down the first, picking him up by the shirt and throwing him to the ground, then stomping the heel of his boot onto the man’s neck.

The second assailant slashed at him with a sword, but Corec’s armor spell prevented the blade from penetrating. Then Barz was suddenly there, stepping in front of Katrin with the heavy cudgel he kept behind the bar. He slammed it into the fellow’s face, crushing his nose and dropping him to the floor.

“Get under the table!” Corec shouted at Katrin. In the commotion, she didn’t hear him. She was yelling at the attackers to stop, but if she was using bardic magic, it wasn’t having any effect.

The battle had formed into two rough lines facing off against each other, but then Treya suddenly leapt onto a table and dove over Corec’s head, landing in a somersault behind the attackers. She sprung to her feet in a smooth motion and jammed her glowing palm up against a man’s jaw. He collapsed and she turned to find another opponent.

With a flicker, Ariadne joined her behind the enemy line. The Chosar woman had no weapons or armor, but she summoned a spinning shield of flame out of nothing, touching it against a man who’d backed Ezra against the wall. The shield dissipated on contact but her target shrieked in agony, burning to death in an instant. Before any of his companions could strike back at her, she disappeared from view. A moment later, another flaming shield appeared at the far end of the line, indicating her new position.

More strangers came through the door as the fight progressed, and the formations divided back into separate battles. A new, gaunt-faced man carrying a sword grinned when he saw Corec standing alone with just a knife. Before he could close the distance, though, Nedley appeared out of nowhere and dove at Corec’s legs, knocking him to the floor.

“What the hell, Ned? Get off me!” Corec pushed the young man away and stood up.

Nedley had stood too, and was now keeping himself between the two of them, his arms out to his sides.

“Get out of my way, Ned!” the attacker exclaimed.

“Stop it, Bert!” Nedley shouted. “What are you doing?”

The door swung open again and Razai strode through, holding a man up off the ground by his throat. She bashed his head against the doorjamb and dropped him to the ground, then drew one of her knives and slashed open the nearest attacker’s throat.

“Treya, red-eyes!” she yelled.

Treya spun out of the way of a dagger, then opened her mouth to shout. A clear bell tone came out. A flash of white light washed over the room and the remaining attackers collapsed where they stood. Taking a deep breath, she thrust her arms out to the sides and did it again. The flash of light was brighter this time, and the bell sound echoed outside the building to the fortress walls and back again.

It took a moment for everyone to realize the fight was over.

“There are more outside,” Treya said. “They’re down, too.”

“I’ll go get the men and some rope,” Boktar said. A rivulet of blood ran down his cheek, but he didn’t seem badly injured. “Can you keep them asleep until we have them tied up?”

Treya nodded.

“Barz!” Katrin shouted, scrambling over to her brother. He’d collapsed down onto one of the chairs, holding his hand against his stomach. Blood was seeping through his fingers.

Ana, who’d been peeking out from the stairwell, repeated Katrin’s cry. The heavily pregnant woman made her way over more slowly, almost slipping on a puddle of blood, but Ezra caught her arm and helped her.

Treya held her hands to Barz’s head and stomach, healing him. “You should be good now,” she said, stepping back.

Katrin hugged her brother tightly, then moved out of the way so Ana could take her place.

With time to think, Corec looked around the room. Ezra wasn’t the only villager still there. The others all appeared stunned by the sudden violence.

“Is anyone else hurt?” Corec asked. They slowly shook their heads.

Seeing their response, Treya relaxed. “I’m sorry,” she said to Corec. “Something felt wrong, but I thought it was just the ale. I didn’t realize what they were.”

“I should have been watching closer, too,” Corec said. “I thought they were looking for work.”

Ariadne grabbed one of the fallen men’s swords and took position to guard them.

That seemed like a good idea. Corec stepped outside the tavern and activated the binding spell linking him to his own sword. The blade burst out of his bedroom window on the second floor of the keep, knocking the wooden shutters to the ground. The hilt thumped into his palm a moment later.

He went back in and found Razai. “You came back,” he said. She’d left for Deece a week earlier.

“Someone has to make sure you don’t get everyone killed,” the demonborn woman said with a scowl. “You’re too trusting. You thought they’d attack during the day, in uniform, didn’t you?”

“No,” he said. “If they’re really red-eyes, they’ve always tried to take us by surprise.”

Razai didn’t appear to believe him, and she wasn’t entirely wrong—if the men had been wearing their normal black brigandine, it would have been easier to recognize them for what they were. And she’d warned him that the new compelled troops didn’t have red eyes.

Making peace with Razai would take more time than Corec had at the moment, so he turned his attention to Nedley. The young man was biting his lip in worry, standing over one of the unconscious attackers.

“What did you think you were doing, Ned?” Corec asked. “You’re not so drunk you couldn’t recognize me.”

“I didn’t want you to kill Bertram,” Nedley said.

“That’s your brother?”

Nedley nodded.

Corec sighed. That would make things more complicated.

Boktar returned then, accompanied by Ral and Sargo. All three were carrying coils of rope.

“The gate guards are dead,” the dwarven man said.

Corec clenched his fists. “Who?” he asked.

“Ludlo and Graeme. We found them hidden behind the gatehouse. Two of the mercenaries had taken their place—to keep people from getting suspicious, I would guess.”

Ludlo had been part of Corec’s ballista crew during the dragon fight. Graeme was a hillfolk mercenary who’d been helping the men with their sword work.

Why couldn’t Rusol have just left them alone? It had been a year and a half since the last attack, and Corec had never tried to harm the man.

He looked around the room again. None of the villagers had left yet, all still watching him intently. They would need reassurance, as would everyone else once the news got out. And Corec would have to figure out what to do with the prisoners.

It was going to be a long night, and a longer day.

Bobo looked up blearily from the table where he’d passed out. “What happened?”