Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kel came back to her rooms after a dawn practice.  She cleaned her weapons and put them away.   Then she went over to the bed and gently shook Neal awake.  Kel knew she was no expert but Neal felt warmer to the touch than she was used to, and looked paler.  “Nrrrggg,” Neal mumbled, his stock response to being woken.

“Breakfast,” Kel told him cheerily.

Neal got up, going through the process of getting himself ready to face another day.  Kel watched with faint amusement.  Kel loved the calm peacefulness of the world at dawn.  Neal had promptly agreed when she’d spoken of that peacefulness to him, saying, “Exactly why I sleep through it.  My being up and moving would destroy it.”  Though she wouldn’t say it to him, in his case, it was more than likely true. 

Watching him this morning, she was convinced that he was not well.  A test then, Kel decided.  As they walked toward the mess hall, she veered off to the infirmary.  Neal followed, if only to question her.  “I just want to see if Roald wants us to bring him anything or if he got breakfast beforehand.”  It was a reasonable thing to do as well; some days the cooks had some food prepared by the time the day’s healer had to be in the infirmary to let the overnight healer go to bed, but other days there was nothing ready. 

Neal followed her through the doors of the infirmary.  Roald looked up from where he’d been working at the desk.  The infirmary was largely empty, since the last battle of the season had passed and the harvests were in.  There were always a few people who were sick or injured, but compared to the height of summer, it looked empty to Kel.  She liked it that way.

“Did you get food?”  She asked Roald, saying nothing of her suspicions about Neal.

“Yep; they had the oatmeal on early today,” Roald answered.  He glanced at Neal and then brought his attention back to Kel.

“What are you working on?”  She asked as he looked back at Neal.

“Inventory; we’re due to report to Mastiff at the end of the week, remember,” he answered, still studying Neal.  Kel knew he was seeing everything she had.

Kel smiled with resignation.  “I haven’t finished my report yet.”

“Merric hasn’t either,” Neal told her.

“And I suppose you are just oh-so-ahead-of-yourself, and yours is done?”  Kel asked.

Neal grinned smugly.  “I don’t have to do one.  We decided that whoever does the inventory does the report.”

Kel looked back at Roald.  “It’s on your desk,” he told her.  “The report is the easy part.”  Kel nodded and decided she was hungry and it was time for breakfast.  Neal turned to leave with her.  “Neal,” Roald said behind them.  Neal turned back.  “How long are you going to lie to yourself?”

Kel leaned against the doorframe, waiting to see how this played out.  Neal, of course, denied he ever lied to himself.  Roald raised his eyebrows.  “So, you know you have a fever and you are going to go eat in mess and spread your illness to everyone else?  Doesn’t sound like you, unless you are lying to yourself and telling yourself you don’t have a fever.”

Rather than argue, Neal turned on Kel.  “You set me up.”

Kel laughed.  “Would I do that?”  She demanded.  “I just wanted a second opinion.”  She hugged him gently and steered him to one of the beds.  “Look at it this way—you get to go back to sleep.”

Roald laughed.  When she passed him on the way to breakfast, he smiled at her.  “You’ll be back, I know.”

“Not for a while,” she answered.  “I have to get the report done.  And there’s spear practice and reading lessons and….  Besides, he’s going to sleep mostly, and I do trust you.”

Kel had been honest with Roald—she had work to do.  This city, self-sufficient as it was, still required a great deal of her attention.  It wasn’t as if she couldn’t completely skip the day, but Neal didn’t need her to, and she got bored sitting still during the day.

In the evening, when her day was done, she returned.  Roald smiled when she came in, but was tending one of the other patients.  When he’d finished, he came over.  “Is his fever so high?”  She asked, seeing Roald was using the soft restraints she’d seen other healers use only on those whose fever was so high that they experienced delirium.

Roald shook his head.  “It’s not too bad.  But the Gifted are almost always trouble when we get fevers.  Knowing Neal, he’s probably the worst of it.  I’d rather not risk it.”

Neal woke just after sunset.  Roald had stepped out of the infirmary for the moment.  As soon as Neal woke, he started to struggle, trying to free himself of the restraints.  “Easy, Neal,” Kel cautioned.

She could see Neal attempt—and largely fail—to calm down.  She wondered what was going on.  “Take the straps off,” Neal whispered.

“Roald said…”  Kel began, uncertain.

“I know what he said,” Neal snapped.  The fear in his voice mixed with a healthy dose of Neal’s usual temper would have made Kel laugh if he hadn’t been so clearly panicking.  Neal stopped himself and took a deep breath.  “And he’s right, mostly.  Kel, I will explain to you—and him—why this time he is wrong, but please take them off.”  Kel hesitated another moment and then did as he’d asked.

Roald returned as she finished.  “Kel,” he started to say.

Neal interrupted.  “I asked her to.  I should have thought of it this morning; I was so tired it didn’t cross my mind that you didn’t know.”

Roald threw Kel a look.  Typical Neal—in his attempt to explain everything he was explaining nothing.  She grinned and then turned her attention back to Neal, curious about what had unnerved him so badly.

Neal was systematically working at calming himself down.  After a little bit, he drank some water and began the story.  “That first summer we were squires,” he told Kel, “While you were winning the attention of the griffin, we were bandit hunting, too.  You won; I lost.”  Kel blinked, confused.  “I didn’t hear them behind me until it was too late.  I’d gotten separated from Alanna and the others.  The bandits caught me, knocked me out.  When I came around, they’d drugged me and restrained me.  Since then, anytime I wake and can’t move, especially if drugs are blurring my mind, I panic.  Alanna and Father know, so I haven’t had any issue since the first time, but I completely forgot that neither of you would know not to use restraints.”

“But, Neal, you are Gifted,” Roald protested.

Neal nodded.  “And one of the rare ones.  With just a fever, I’m always quiet.  There’s no need for them; all they do is make me panic.”

Kel waited a moment before asking, “Neal, why didn’t you tell us?”

“I forgot.  I was tired.”

“Not today,” Kel said.  “Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“What, tell you that while you were a hero and saved a child—and a griffin that anyone else would have let die—I couldn’t even manage to avoid being captured and drugged and permanently frightened?”

“Neal, it could have happened to anyone.”

“Of course; my point regards telling you.”

“You think I’d…”  Kel trailed off, trying to find words; the idea was so alien to her.  He thought she’d think less of him…?

“No, not really,” Neal admitted.  “But I did.”

Kel shook her head, letting the subject drop.  Sometimes she forgot how hard Neal was on himself.  After a while, she told him, “You should probably sleep.  Unless…”

Neal shrugged.  “It’ll be a little while, but I’ll be able to sleep eventually.  Was there soup tonight?”

Kel nodded.  “I’ll go see if there’s any left.”

Kel convinced herself of the necessity and then went up to their room to wake Neal.  He rolled onto his back without opening his eyes.  “Kel, I worked until almost dawn,” he complained.  “I’m not getting up.”

She laughed at him.  “You’ve already missed lunch.”

“I was ill at the beginning of the week.  I repeat: I worked until almost dawn.  Amanda is perfectly capable of taking care of whatever some idiot did today,” Neal grumbled, turning away from Kel, pulling the blankets tighter around him.

Kel would have scolded him for calling any of the refugees idiots (Though, like Neal, she did sometimes wonder what they were thinking before they did the things that landed them in the infirmary), but knew it was just sleep talking.  Usually she’d let him sleep, but she needed him.  “And you thought you could sleep all day,” Kel agreed, shaking him awake again.

Neal sat up with a groan.  “What?”  He demanded.

“Loey’s wandered off,” Kel informed him. 

Neal rolled his eyes.  “It snowed yesterday, and you’re the better tracker of the two of us anyway.”

Kel nodded.  Finding Loey wasn’t what she needed her husband for.  “Listen, Neal,” Kel implored him, knowing he was still half asleep.  “Tobe and Gydo didn’t tell me until after lunch, after they’d searched the inside of New Hope.  She’s been out there since breakfast, as far as I can figure.”

Neal rubbed his eyes.  “Did it get warmer with the sunrise?”  Kel shook her head.  The day was bitterly cold.  “Still,” Neal went on, “Amanda’s perfectly capable of handling frostbite or hypothermia.  Possibly even better than me, having more experience.”  He paused.  “So, Kel.  Why did you wake me?”  He asked pointedly, pausing between words for emphasis.

“Yes, I’m worried about her being out there in the cold, but I’m more worried about why she’s out there.  For that, you are undoubtedly better than Amanda,” Kel pointed out.

Neal raised eyebrows.  “For that side of the coin, for Loey, you’re probably the best.  Or Tobe or Gydo.”

“But even you won’t argue that for covering both sides of the coin, both of us are almost certainly the best option.”

Neal didn’t answer, but he did get up.  As he got dressed, Kel made the bed.  When he was ready to go, Neal looked over at Kel.  “I suppose Tobe is saddling Silk?”  He said, naming his riding mare.

Kel chuckled.  “No, he’s probably saddling that little mare that fell in love with him across the waters.  He’d have finished saddling Hoshi and Silk some time ago.”

“You’re not letting him come, are you?”

“No, but he doesn’t know that yet.”

Neal let Kel have the lead, guessing she’d asked the sparrows to find the missing girl.  When they found Loey, then maybe he’d take lead.  Maybe not; Kel was pretty good with people, and Kel had been right.  Loey wasn’t the type to wander off.  The psychological part of the equation was likely to be greater than the physical part.

They spotted Loey amid the trees just over a patrol length from the eastern wall.  Silk suddenly shied.  Neal set a gentle hand on her shoulder.  “It’s alright, girl; I feel it, too,” he whispered, dismounting.  Kel followed suit—though Hoshi maintained the usual calm composure—and they tethered the horses to the trees.  “You feel it?”  Neal asked Kel quietly.

“Feel what?”  She asked.

“Power in the air; it’s why the horses are spooked.”  It didn’t seem to bother the sparrows.

“Where’s it from?”

Neal shook his head.  “No idea.  I mean, directionally?  It’s coming from her more or less, but Loey’s got no magic—does she?”  As they approached Loey, Neal realized that the girl was singing softly, mostly under her breath.  The power—whatever its source—was heavy in the air around the girl.  This was an alien power to him, but he felt it in the core of his own power, which stirred restlessly.  It made him anxious—Kel might have even described him as edgy, had her attention not been wholly on Loey—but he gripped his own reaction tightly, as riding with Alanna had taught him to do.

Kel knelt in the snow beside the young girl, wrapping a blanket around her.  Startled, Loey stopped singing.  The power in the air rippled, trembled, and then snapped out of existence.  While Neal was relieved, he knew that wasn’t the normal way the Gift acted.

Neal couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he could tell that Kel was talking quietly to Loey.  Neal waited where he was, a few steps back, giving Kel the freedom to handle the situation as she felt was appropriate.  After a few moments, Kel beckoned to him.  He joined them, placing a gentle hand on Loey’s shoulder. 

She was in better shape than he expected.  Light frostbite traced her face along what looked to Neal’s power like tearstains; he quickly tended that.  Her temperature was quite low, but not dangerously so.  He eased a stream of warmth into her and then took his hand away, not wanting to raise her temperature too high too quickly—that process could be as dangerous as an extremely low temperature.

When Kel set Loey to her feet, the girl nearly collapsed.  “Are you okay?”  Kel asked her, concerned.

Loey nodded.  “Just tired is all.”  Kel looked at Neal for confirmation.  He nodded—he’d found nothing to indicate anything more serious; besides, if she’d been sitting out there as long as Kel suspected, it made sense she’d be stiff.

Roald, who’d had the overnight shift, sat with Kel and Neal at lunch the next day.  “How’s Loey?”  Kel asked.

Roald smiled.  “She’s fine.  Her temperature came back up overnight.  But, Neal, did you notice anything when you worked on her?”

Neal shook his head, not understanding.  “I told you there was a power in the air that made my Gift uneasy,” Neal reminded his friend.

“And you thought she was the source?”

“As far as I could tell,” Neal agreed.  “But she’s not Gifted, so I’m not sure how…”

“I’ll agree she’s not Gifted,” Roald offered.  “But she’s something.  You know if I try to heal you your Gift fights mine three ways to tomorrow,” Roald pointed out.

“Contrary in everything he does?”  Merric suggested, earning him a glare from Neal.

“It wasn’t like healing someone with the Gift, but it wasn’t like healing somebody without, either,” Roald explained.  “Like bouncing off of walls I couldn’t see.”  He shrugged.  “If it looks like magic, and feels like magic, and acts like magic….”

“Yes,” Neal agreed, “but what kind?”

Roald was thoughtful.  “I’m reading a book right now about some of the less common kinds of magic.  ‘Magic unlooked for is magic unseen,’” he quoted.  Neal smiled, acknowledging he recognized the quote if not the work from which it came.  “Last night I got to the chapter about Singer’s magic.”

“Mind if I borrow that?”

Roald grinned.  “It’s on your desk.”  Neal got up, looking eager to begin reading.  Merric also stood—it was time for patrol.

When the others had left, Kel looked hard at her friend.  “Roald,” she said quietly.  “What’s bothering you?”

He shook his head.  “I’ll talk to you about it later.  I need to deal with this myself, Kel; but thanks for the concern.”  He got up.

Kel let out a small whistle under her breath.  Something serious had Roald on edge.

Roald had luck on his side.  Daine passed through New Hope the next day on her way to the capital.  He gave her a sealed letter for his mother, asking her to deliver it to the queen privately.  By the end of the week, Daine’d returned.

Roald,

The conversation we need to have is better done face to face.  We will talk, you and I, when I see you next.  I understand, however, that you still need some answers now.  It was not my intent to keep anything from you—or your siblings.  ‘Magic unlooked for is magic unseen.’  You never looked, my son.  None of you children showed any sign of having inherited that from me and so the state of things is as you see it.  Yes, I hoped the book might put the idea in your head when I gave it to you, but I also thought you would enjoy it for its own value.

As to the child…magic is magic.  The basics are the same.  You can teach her those.  If the event you described was her first interaction with her own magic, it will be something she’ll want and need to talk about as she comes to understand her power.  You’ll also want to find out her favorite song—set the wards well when you do.  Speaking of wards…this might be a good place to start:

She’d written in the music and explanation of a Singer’s warding spell.

Below it she finished her letter. 

Roald, if you feel I (we)’ve wronged you by not telling you before…I can understand that, though I hope that once we’ve talked, you’ll at least understand why I never pushed any of you to see.  I’m sorry.

Thayet.

When winter had begun, Kel had begun teaching reading, writing, mathematics, basic history, and geography.  The afternoon “school” was greeted in the manner Roald had come to understand was typical.  At first the refugees fought her, arguing that they’d gotten by well enough to date.  With chores and weapons training in the mornings, and now these lessons in the afternoon, when were they to have any time to themselves?  Kel understood this sentiment and the lessons were optional for anyone over twelve.

It hadn’t taken long for those older than twelve to join in.  Kel drafted the knights, Shinko, and Yuki, and some of the literate off-duty sergeants as teachers.  “We were lucky,” she explained to her peers.  “We grew up with opportunities, education.  Now we’re even luckier, because we have the opportunity to share that with these folks who haven’t had our opportunities.”  As she had when they were pages, she shamed them in to helping; because after all they knew she was correct in saying it was the right thing to do.

Roald spent a few days considering the letter and his options.  He realized he now had another opportunity to share of his good fortune, to pass on the gifts given to him by having a wonderful series of teachers instruct him in the uses of his magic.  He could do the right thing by Loey, and he wanted to.  He just wasn’t sure he knew how to do it…but his mother had said the basics were the same.

So, Roald made the minimal necessary arrangements with Kel and Neal.  He understood that Kel was leaving him alone because he’d asked her to, but that she was still concerned.  Over the summer and fall, New Hope’s inhabitants had all become a tight community.  They relied heavily upon each other for their very survival.  The group of knights had always been friends; now they were even closer.  There were always times when the constant stress, the seemingly endless deaths and despair, became too much.  Kel made it clear she was always available to anyone who needed her.  Roald appreciated that, and had taken her up on that standing offer at other times.  He just wasn’t ready yet.

It was about two weeks after the day Loey had wandered into the woods east of New Hope when Roald asked her to take a walk with him.  Roald walked northwest, having no particular course in mind, only wishing to be comfortably out of hearing of the city.  “You’ve probably heard Neal, and Kel, and I talking about what happened two weeks ago, haven’t you?”  He asked the girl.

She nodded.  “Neal said I didn’t have the Gift—not like he does, or you do—but you think I’ve got something, and Kel thinks two weeks ago was about more than magic,” she summarized, fairly accurately.

“And what do you think?”

“That you’re all probably right.  I don’t have the Gift—the man back in our village tested me for it twice and didn’t find it.  Besides, you and Neal can see it on people, can’t you?”

“If we look it for, usually, and definitely if you were working a spell.”

Loey nodded again.  “But Neal felt something two weeks ago that made him uneasy.”  Roald nodded.  “I felt something out there, too,” Loey admitted.  “If that was magic, then I’ve got it.  If it wasn’t….  Well, I’d like to know what it was.” 

Roald grinned in agreement.  Loey didn’t continue.  “And about what Kel thinks?”  He prodded.

Loey shrugged.  “She is right.”  Loey said no more, and this time Roald didn’t press her.

Instead, he asked after her knowledge of magic in general.  For a girl with no formal training or previous grounding in magic, she knew enough.  Including the tenet that an untrained mage is dangerous—once the power begins to show, it continues to breakout in unexpected, unwanted, and often harmful ways unless it is trained, controlled, and used to some productive end.

“Which means I have to learn how to handle this, if it’s magic that I’ve got.”

“Correct,” Roald agreed.

“But is it magic?”  Loey asked uncertainly.  “If it’s not the Gift….”

Roald smiled reassuringly.  “There are all kinds of magic; we just see the Gift the most.  The Bazhir use one kind to hold their communities together.  Tobe and Daine and the like have another kind of magic.  There’s magic tied into the Dominion Jewel, and into the land it holds.  There’s a kind of magic that comes only in song, only when the one whose power it is sings the spell-song.”

Loey looked into the distance.  She smiled, a little sadly.  “Mama loved to sing,” she said.

“Mine too,” Roald told her.

“You think she had magic?”

Roald shrugged.  “I think you got it from somewhere.”  Seeing Loey wasn’t fully convinced she even had magic yet, Roald continued, “Come, I’ll show you your magic.  It’s an easy spell—to show someone how their own mind perceives their own magic.”

She came to stand in front of him, where he indicated.  He set hands gently on her shoulders.  “Close your eyes,” he told her softly, doing so himself.  “Take a deep breath…and let it go…” as she did what he instructed he silently worked the spell.  When he was sure it had taken, he bid her open her eyes. 

At first, he thought the spell had failed—he saw nothing different.  That certainly hadn’t been the case when his father had done this with him.  Then the wind picked up, whistling through the bare branches of the trees around them, whispering across the snow as it lifted a fine powder into the air.  He heard the sigh of his breath as it left him and the soft hiss as Loey inhaled.  As he stood listening, he heard the thread of melody, of music, of song, in the undercurrent of everything around them.

Loey closed her eyes and began to hum, in tune with the melody around them.  Power shivered in the air, unlike any Roald had ever known.  As Neal had described, Roald’s Gift was restive where it met this strange power.  He tried to hold onto the spell, knowing this was Loey’s first intentional experience with her own power, but after another few breaths he lost it.

The world went almost unnaturally quiet as the song was lost to both of them.  For a few moments, they both simply stood, breathing in the crisp winter air.  At last, Loey whispered sadly, “It’s gone.”

“Not for long,” Roald told her, leading the way back to New Hope.  “It’s your magic—you can find it whenever you want, once you’re trained.  Then you won’t need my spell.”   

Teaching Loey was easier than Roald expected.  Hardship early in her life had taught her to focus on the task at hand, and to stay with a project to completion.  The hard part was knowing what to teach her.  After all, her magic wasn’t his magic.  Still the critical first lessons had to be about reaching, controlling, managing her power—and that was something Roald understood quite well and had no trouble teaching.

When Roald wasn’t teaching Loey, or otherwise occupied, he worked on a Midwinter surprise for Kel and, to some extent, Neal.  Roald was a little bit surprised to see how easily Lord Knight Commander Raoul convinced the general and Lord Wyldon to allow their plan.  Kel had always said Raoul got his way almost every time if the king wasn’t involved, but this was the first time Roald had personally witnessed it.  What was even more startling to both Roald and Raoul was how easily they managed to keep it from Kel.  Who is in charge over there, anyway?  Raoul wrote at the end of one of the messages that passed between them. 

The clerks, Roald replied.

Not long after dawn on the first day of the holiday week, Roald finished a shift in the infirmary and climbed the wall over the gate.  When a horn call signaled the approach of friends, Roald told the surprised gate sergeant they were expecting company.

Raoul, Buri, Dom, and his squad were in the gates before Kel had arrived at the gate from wherever she’d been working through her dawn practice.  Raoul chuckled at her surprise.  When she demanded to know what they were doing in her fort, Raoul answered, “Well…that depends.  I told the general and Wyldon that it was valuable information sharing regarding enemy movement and engagements over the summer.  Roald, there,” he said with a nod in the prince’s direction, “thought it would be a fun Midwinter surprise for you and Neal.”

To Roald’s surprise, she turned and hugged him.  “Thank you.”  Then she turned back to the Own.  “By the time you’ve settled the horses, it’ll be breakfast time.  I’ll go wake Neal.  After breakfast, I can gather up the knights and sergeants who will gain something from the ‘valuable information sharing’.  We might as well get the business out of the way first.”  Raoul gave her the sort of salute an underling would give his commander.  She made a face.  Raoul grinned and led his horses to the stables, his soldiers following.

Kel woke Neal, saying nothing about the visitors.  She smiled, amused, when he suddenly noticed the extra bodies at the commander’s table in the mess hall and nearly flew across the room.  She was about to whistle a warning to the object of his mad dash when she saw Raoul make some comment to Dom.  Dom got up and turned around and almost had enough time to brace himself before Neal slammed into him with a glad cry of “Cousin!”

“I missed you, too,” Dom replied when he could breathe again.

Neal spun to look at Kel.  “You didn’t tell me!”

Kel put her hands up in surrender.  “Roald didn’t tell me, either.  I only found out when they got here, a while after dawn.”  Then she grinned.  “Besides, you weren’t awake enough to be told until you saw him.”

“Food’s getting cold,” Dom reminded them and they sat to eat.

As promised, they spent the day comparing notes from the summer’s fighting.  When Roald and Loey wandered out of camp that evening for their usual lessons, Loey commented, “She’s so relaxed.  You did good.”

Roald chuckled.  “Thank you,” he told her.  “She misses the Own.  She loves this and she wouldn’t give it up to anyone else, but she misses the friends she made as a squire.  And, in case you didn’t notice, Neal misses his cousin.”

Now Loey laughed.  “Yes, I did notice that.”

The next day was routine.  After breakfast, everyone moved outside to begin weapons practice.  Dom put his squad to work, their usual morning practice.  Then he, Raoul, and Buri joined the other nobles who worked through the ranks of the refugees who were practicing their weapons.  Roald stood back, watching for the moment as Buri corrected the stance of one of the younger merchants.

“Do you stand like that when a customer has insulted you?”  She demanded.  “Back straight—face ‘em.  Eyes up, right?”  As she framed the proper stance as an offended merchant glaring down a problematic customer, the young man relaxed and slid into a proper stance.

Raoul adjusted a grandmother’s grip on her spear.  Roald could tell the refugees were uneasy with these legends in their midst, but as Raoul and Buri joked and worked the bunch, just as Kel and the others did, they settled down.

Dom was walking along a row of those practicing basic staff maneuvers.  An eight-year-old girl and her ten-year-old brother practiced side by side.  Dom stopped in front of the girl.  He studied her for a moment.  “Is he your brother?”  She nodded.  “Bet he teases you, huh?”  She nodded again.  “Pulls your pigtails?”  Dom pressed.  The brother grinned.  “What do you do when he does that?”

“Trip him,” she answered promptly, demonstrating.  Dom laughed, and reached a hand out to pull the boy up.

“Exactly,” Dom told her.  He motioned the boy opposite his sister.  “Now,” he said, “show me a low strike.”  She demonstrated accurately, and her brother blocked it properly.  Dom put his hands over the girl’s, on the staff.  “Let’s try that again, but this time imagine he just pulled your pigtails,” Dom suggested.  When the staves hit, Dom twisted, executing a hook.  It did, Roald had to admit, mimic the motion of the sister’s foot as she’d reached out to trip her brother.  For a moment Roald wondered what Dom’s point was—the hook, Roald could tell, would only rarely disarm an opponent—then the brother yelped as the other end of his staff thumped into his shoulder.

Dom motioned for the boy to return to his place with a bit of advice, “Don’t pull your sister’s pigtails.  It’s not nice.”  He took the boy’s spot.  “Show me you understood,” he instructed the girl. 

“So, Kel came by all this honestly,” Seaver said, having come up beside Roald.

“I’m not sure who came by what honestly,” Roald replied.  “Part of this is them playing by ear.  The King’s Own are in the ‘when in Tyra, do as the Tyrans do’ camp.  This is what we do, so it’s what they’ll do.”

The afternoon went similarly for a while, with the visitors joining in to help teach the refugees.  Eventually regular lessons gave way to a discussion of tactics, strategy, wartime politics and ethics.

Dom came for Kel shortly after dinner.  When she saw that the usual horse racing lanes had been adjusted to accommodate a joust, she shook her head.  Tobe held her lance and Peachblossom, smiling with anticipation.  Kel accepted the lance and then frowned.  “This isn’t my practice lance,” she told Tobe.  Looking at Dom she added, “I’ll hurt somebody.” 

“I doubt it,” Dom answered, a response she barely heard as she looked to see who she rode against.

“No,” she said firmly.

“Come on, Kel,” Raoul called from the other end of the cleared lanes.  “You know you haven’t had a good joust since Steadfast.  You’ll get out of practice.”

“If you wanted this,” Kel grumbled as she swung up on Peachblossom’s back, “You should have gone to Wyldon’s for Midwinter.”

“Not nearly as much fun,” Dom retorted.

Neither Raoul nor Kel needed the signal to start.  Both knew the other’s habits well.  They set their horses in motion at the same moment.  They came together with the bone aching crash they’d both become accustomed to, and then to Kel’s surprise and horror, Raoul came loose from Drum. 

Tobe quickly calmed the surprised horse as Kel turned Peachblossom and dismounted.  She gave Raoul a hand up, commenting, “Apparently, I’m not the one who needs to worry about getting out of practice.”

Raoul shook his arms out.  “What have you been doing since I saw you last?”  He demanded.

She shrugged.  “I mean, we built a whole fort and everyone helped get the late harvest planted.  All hands to bring in what we could harvest, both here and in the Haven fields.  Snow removal recently,” she added, indicating the cleared practice grounds.

She walked back to get Peachblossom.  Dom stood nearby, still not believing what he’d just seen.  “Stop staring,” Kel teased.  “I know his saddle work better than anyone’s.  It had to happen eventually.”

“Kel,” Neal said, a bit of awe in his voice.  “I don’t think you understand…”  He paused to gather his thoughts.  “I’ve never seen anyone get Raoul to the ground.”

Kel grinned.  “He assures me I’m not the first.”  Raoul scowled at her, not liking the reminder.

Buri clapped Kel on the shoulder.  “You’ve helped me to keep him humble, Kel.  Thank you.”

Kel glanced over at where Merric sat on a barrel.  She raised her eyebrows, asking him for his reaction.  He grinned wickedly.  “I’m just thinking it’d be fun to see you pop Wyldon from the saddle.”

“Impossible,” Kel and Raoul replied in the same breath.  Those who knew the man laughed.

Kel and Raoul walked their horses to the stables.  When they were out of earshot Kel accused, “You let me.”

Raoul shook his head.  It was hard to tell in the poor lighting but Kel thought she saw his face color slightly.  “Buri was correct.  I’d gotten smug.  It’s been over a decade since I was last unhorsed.  I relaxed too much—careless of me; could have gotten me killed.”

“You?”  Kel replied in disbelief.  “Somehow I doubt that.”

For a time, they brushed the horses out in silence.  Then Raoul chuckled slightly.  When Kel looked up, he shrugged.  “I’m just realizing I agree with Sir Merric—it would be fun to see you unhorse Wyldon.”

She laughed.  “Yeah,” she agreed with a nod.  “Yeah, it would be fun.  Never going to happen, but we can dream.”

The next day, the day of the Midwinter Festival when the biggest celebrations were typically held, Kel saw little of her guests during the morning practices.  She walked into the mess with Esmond.  Looking about the room, a slow grin spread across her face.

“What’s all this?”  Esmond asked.

“This is Midwinter,” Kel answered with a content sigh.

Faleron walked in behind them.  “It’s like being back at the palace,” he commented.  “I never expected…”

Kel grinned wider.  “Welcome to a holiday in the King’s Own.  We never know where we’ll be when the holiday hits.  You realize pretty quickly that there are some parts to every holiday that are critical, and most of them are simple and easily transported.  You’d be surprised the holidays the Own can unroll at half a day’s notice.”

“I already am,” Seaver commented, entering.

They had a party worthy of the palace that afternoon, to the delight of the youngsters.  There wasn’t much of anything in the way of gifts, but it didn’t matter. 

Kel reported to Wyldon two weeks later, taking Faleron with her.  As Faleron went to gather the supplies they were entitled to, Kel stepped into Wyldon’s office and closed the door.  Lord Wyldon, much looser than he’d been when she was a page, smiled in greeting.  “I hear you finally succeeded against Raoul,” he commented.  “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Kel said gravely.  “It was an honor.”

“Someone has to keep him humble, anyway, and he won’t let me do it anymore,” Wyldon confided.

Kel grinned.  “That’s what Buri told me.”

“You do realize the Own now have bets on when you’ll unhorse me,” Wyldon pointed out.

Kel considered her responses.  At last, she stated, “Raoul hasn’t bet in that pool.”

Wyldon chuckled.  “No, no he hasn’t.”

“I trust his instincts,” Kel told Wyldon seriously.

They conversed briefly about pertinent details regarding New Hope and Wyldon’s Mastiff.  As she was getting ready to leave, Wyldon told Kel, “A few things came with the last shipment from the capital—Midwinter gifts for some of yours.  They’re in the sack tied in gray.  I thought it best if I alerted you.”  Kel nodded in appreciation.  She and hers tried not to flaunt their wealth at New Hope, knowing wealth would not help their survival in this war, and knowing solidarity within the walls of New Hope was far more important than any missing comforts. 

When she returned to New Hope, she took the gray-tied sack up to her office.  From there she distributed the gifts to their recipient’s bed, where they would be found in the evening with minimal fuss.  She was glad to see Roald had received a book about Singer’s magic; she hoped it would help him guide Loey’s understanding of her magic.

By this point, Roald was comfortable enough with Loey’s grasp of her magic that they could conduct lessons inside the walls.  This move had also been prompted in part by a bitter cold snap that made outdoor lessons of any duration impossible—even weapons practice had been moved indoors or canceled. 

Loey ducked into the infirmary one evening, looking for Roald.  He smiled when he saw her.  “Neal’s on his way to take over for me.  Go ahead up—set up a warding spell, and begin the usual exercise.  I’ll be up in a bit.”  She went.

A short time later, Roald headed for his office, where he knew his student had gone.  Roald noted with satisfaction, as he entered his office, that Loey had done a wonderful job with the warding.  It bound her power within a few feet of her person, but in no way hindered anyone coming into contact with her. 

The original ward-song Roald’s mother had offered them was known among the Gifted as a “hard” ward, one that prevented magic from going in or out, but also prevented people—with or without magic—from crossing the border.  The book that had been Thayet’s Midwinter gift had shown them both how to adjust the song and thus the warding to create softer variants.

Roald meant to praise his student’s excellent work when he noticed she was not meditating, or working any of the usual exercises.  She sat cross-legged upon the floor, just as usual, but tears ran unchecked down her face.  Roald knelt beside her.  “Loey,” he said softly, “what’s the matter?”

“I miss Mama so bad sometimes,” Loey told him.

Roald put an arm around her and she leaned into him.  “I want to say, ‘I understand’ because I think I do and because I miss my mother, too; but I don’t understand, do I?  My mother’s in the capital—I’ll see her when the war ends.  Maybe even sooner.”  Raoul had warned them that the king had in his head a spring tour of the war zone.  Raoul, Wyldon, and the general would try to talk him out of it.  They would not succeed.  They never did.  Roald suspected Thayet might come at least this far with Jonathan because she knew Roald wanted to talk with her.

Loey nodded in response to his question, her face still buried in his shoulder.  After a little while, she straightened.  Roald waited, sensing something more was coming.  Eventually, she said, “It was Mama’s birthday.”  Then, sensing Roald had no idea what she was talking about, she clarified, “About a month ago, when I went out alone.  It was Mama’s birthday.  I just wanted some time to myself and I know that’s nearly impossible inside the walls.” 

It was true—and to be expected of a defensibly sized fort holding nearly a thousand.  Kel had asked Raoul if they should expect more refugees when the fighting began again in the spring.  Raoul had said not many.  The war zone had been cleared, unless things took a turn for the worse.  He did say it was possible they might see some more orphans.  Apparently, some of the castles that had taken in refugees were having a challenging time with the parentless children.  Raoul had taken some of them in at his fort.  “I don’t have any trouble with them,” he told Kel.  She’d smiled knowingly.  Later, she’d explained that she’d seen it before.  Raoul would treat those kids right, put them to work, they were usually at once too in awe of the legend, surprised by the kindness, and weary from the work to get in much trouble.

When Roald realized Loey had not continued, he pushed, “So you walked into the woods to be alone…”

“And sat in the snow, which probably says something about how far away I was that day.”  Roald nodded but remained silent.  “I was trying to remember her—it gets harder as the time goes on.”  Loey began to cry again.  “And I remembered,” Loey continued, ignoring the tears, “that last song she tried to teach me before she died.  I don’t know how she knew but I think she did—I think she expected her death.  She told me not to worry then that I didn’t understand the song.  Someday, when I was bigger, older, I would understand the song.

“I only remembered parts,” Loey informed him sadly.  “But I know it was important.  How could I forget such a thing?  Mama tried to tell me something, something she’d have told me herself when I was old enough to understand, but she knew she wouldn’t be there.  She tried and I forgot it.”

“Don’t worry,” Roald said gently.

“Of course I’m worrying,” Loey retorted wetly, still crying.  “Mama’s last message to me is gone.”

Roald shook his head.  “No,” he said.  “Something that important, you wouldn’t forget.  Especially a song.”  He’d noticed her memory for songs was sharp.  She could remember tunes she’d only heard once, including most if not all of the lyrics.  “When the time is right, you’ll remember that song.  Don’t worry.”

It took her a while to calm down even so.  When she had, she looked up into Roald’s face.  “I don’t think I’m up for lessons tonight.  I just want to sleep.”  Roald had noticed that.  She was weary and emotionally drained.  Roald nodded, rose to his feet, and drew her up.

As they walked through the evening air, Roald said, “I meant to tell you earlier that you did a really nice job with the warding tonight.”  She nodded mutely, acknowledging that she’d heard him, as they entered the children’s barracks.

Roald tucked her in, earning her only smile of the evening.  “Good night, Loey,” he said softly, “Sleep well.”

Roald returned to his office, wanting some time to think.  Kel spotted him there on her way to her own office.  She knocked on the door frame to alert him of her presence.  “Lessons over early tonight?”  She asked.

Roald nodded.  “Loey went to bed; she was tired.”

“Is she okay?”  Kel asked with the concern she had for all those under her care.

Again, Roald nodded.  “Just a little tired.”

Kel understood well enough that sometimes a person just got tired and needed a little extra sleep.  “Can I come in?”  She asked.  Roald waved her to the other chair.  Kel smiled.  “It’s rare we get to talk without the blare of battle horns.  Are you working on anything in particular tonight?”

Roald shook his head.  “Just thinking.”

“About?”  Kel inquired.

“Loey mostly.”

“Still worrying about whether you can teach her?”  Kel asked.

“Not as much,” Roald responded.  “In time, she needs a teacher who knows her magic, but we’re getting along for now.  I just wish I knew more of her history,” Roald commented.

Kel shrugged.  “It’s pretty much the usual story for one of Tobe’s crew.  Early raid, three summers back.  They got her mother, probably would have taken her back to Scanra and who knows what fate, but she was quarrelsome and they strung her up as an example to the other captives.  Loey’s mother hid her in a closet when they heard the drum warning of the raid.”

“And her father?”

Kel shrugged.  “No idea.  Wyldon gives me a basic report of each village our refugees come from.  Anything else I know is from the refugees themselves.  Neither Wyldon nor Loey has ever mentioned him.  My guess is that he hadn’t been in the picture for a good long while before the war.  Loey and the other survivors made it to Tirrsmont and then Mastiff.  Once Haven was built, they came to us.”  Kel was silent for a moment before inquiring, “What’s on your mind, Roald?”  While Roald was still considering his answer she said, “You still want to handle this on your own?”

Roald smiled, knowing she’d read him.  “Not sure how you know the things you do,” he replied.

“When we first realized Loey had magic, something had you on edge.  You were upset in a way I’ve never seen from you before.  You said then that you appreciated the concern, but it was something you had to deal with on your own.  I respected that, but I worried about you.”

“I know,” Roald answered.

“You seemed to settle down after the next delivery of news from the capital.  I remember there was a private letter from your mother to you in that.”  Roald wasn’t surprised—personal letters had become fairly rare since Shinko and Yuki had come to the border.  “Whatever was in that letter, it helped you get a grip on whatever was bothering you so badly.”  Roald nodded.  “Tonight, though….  Tonight,” she told him, “You’ve got that expression on that I haven’t seen since those first days, before the letter from your mother.”  Roald nodded wondering if she’d continue, giving him information about how much she’d pieced together.  She didn’t.  She rephrased her earlier question.  “You still want me to let you be?”

“I still want to talk with my mother before I talk to you, Kel.  I don’t even know if I know the truth, or the whole story.  Maybe when I have all the facts, it’ll all make sense.”

“But you doubt it.”  It was not a question.  Therefore, Roald felt no need to respond audibly.  “Well, we’ve got a letter from Raoul tonight.”  She handed him the paper.  Even in the winter letters traveled between the forts, thanks to Daine’s work.  Since Kel and Raoul left scrap meat for the hawks, eagles, falcons, and owls that carried their letters, messages between their two forts moved fairly quickly.  Raoul’s letters were often fairly personal, and Kel would merely summarize the highlights for the other knights.  When the letter wasn’t overly personal, or it was from one of the other border commanders, she simply passed it around the table, so all could read.  She figured sometimes one of the others would notice some subtlety she’d missed.

Roald read the letter.  “Forgive me,” he said at last.  “I’ve yet to master what Neal calls Own-speak.”

Kel chuckled.  “The king could not be dissuaded.  To everyone’s surprise the queen will also accompany him—though what you’ve told me perhaps explains that.  They’ll travel to Raoul’s fort as soon as winter eases enough to allow it.  Then to Mastiff, then to us.”  Kel sighed.  “They’ll have half of Second Company, and Amy’s 17^th Rider Group,” she told him.  “Still, they should not come.”

“You remember how guilty you felt when your people faced danger and you were off enjoying yourself at Mastiff?” Roald asked her.  She nodded.  “Every battle, every fort that falls, every village that gets destroyed…my parents’ people face danger while they’re off enjoying themselves in the capital.  They feel the same guilt you felt.” 

“Don’t misunderstand me, Roald; I understand well why they want to come.  I just don’t think they should, any more than I really think I should have skipped that trip to Mastiff.  And both of them coming, together…that’s worse.”

“True.  And why I suspect my mother will be ‘convinced’ by Wyldon to return to the capital.  ‘Just let me visit my son,’ she’ll plead, as though it was her intention to go the whole tour with my father.  It’s not that she doesn’t want to, but they both know the dangers, and remember well the damage done this country when the king and queen died in proximity.”

“That big, is it?”  She meant that whatever it was that had him on edge was so big that Thayet would make a special trip out to talk to her son about it.  Then she continued, not yet expecting him to answer.  “That still means we should expect to host them both for a time.  It should be fairly early in the season, but the roads will be open.  If Scanra finds out, we have to expect battles.  Plans will have to be made.”

“Of course.  An extra patrol won’t hurt—Merric will offer that as soon as he hears the news.  The extra training the refugees have gotten all winter won’t hurt, either.  And you have to recall we’ll have an extra company of soldiers while they’re here; King’s Own, accustomed to the task of guarding my parents.”

“Half a company,” Kel corrected.

Roald had missed that detail before.  “Only half?”  He asked in surprise.

“It’s all there is,” Kel told him sadly.  “Any recruits they can get trained are being sent here to replace the losses in First and Third Companies.  Second got chewed up pretty good before Raoul brought them home.  Their losses haven’t been replaced, and remember, there’s a vacancy at captain in First Company.”

Roald hadn’t felt the reality of the losses in quite that fashion until then.  Afraid of the answer he asked, “Does the rest of the military fare similarly?”

Kel nodded, as miserable as Roald.  “The killing devices were the worst of it.  Deaths dropped 50% after our run last summer.  But we’ll still be years in the recovery.”

“You’d better have some good news to share then,” Faleron informed her from the door.  “If all you have to talk about at tonight’s meeting is how bad this war is, then I’m going back out to listen to Amanda sing.”  The midwife had a beautiful voice.

Kel and Roald got up to follow Faleron to the conference room for the night’s meeting.  “News from Raoul from the capital,” Kel offered.  “Some of the Scanran politicians are starting to feel the war’s pinch.  Peace is in the offing.  Another season, not more.”  She paused.  “How’s that for good news?”

“Eh; I’d rather hear we can go home now,” Seaver told her.   “But even that’s depressing.  I mean, end of the war, end of the forts, right?  How long, do you think, before most everyone forgets there’s over a thousand folks with no place to go home to?”

Esmond spoke softly, “You don’t think that’s why we’re here?”  They all turned to look at him.  He elaborated, “You don’t think Lord Wyldon assigned us all here so that at the end of the war someone will remember the thousand plus?”

“Is he really that nice?”  Seaver asked his friend.

“Nice or not, it’s about honor,” Merric answered as he sat down.  “He’s district commander for the region; these folks are under his protection.  He’s honor-bound to keep an eye out for them.  Just as we are, now that he’s assigned us here.  Yes, I think he considered who could be trusted to do the right thing, both during and after the war, when he assigned us.”

“I know he did,” Kel replied before moving them on to the other business of the night.

Lunchtime the day before the king and queen were to arrive was spent in discussion of the final preparations.  Kel asked Roald several questions regarding appropriate protocol for hosting the rulers at a fort where wealth and status were severely downplayed. 

Finally, Roald said, “You know, Kel, my father was about your age when he was in his first war.  He was commander at a small post on the sidelines of the fighting.  Not that they didn’t see action—the place seeming least defended always gets hit hard.”  Kel knew this—it was part of the reason she encouraged the refugees to hang enemy shields and flags from the fort walls.  She wanted raiders to know they weren’t the least defended spot on the map.  “During the war, he slept in an army issue tent and ate in common mess.”

“He wasn’t the king then,” Kel replied.

“But he still wishes himself to be that man.  My point is that you can relax; neither of them stands on formality, if they don’t have to.”

Later, when everyone else had left, Faleron asked Neal, “What’s making her so nervous about this visit?”

“Plenty,” Neal replied.  “Most of it is just that she doesn’t trust the king.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well…you have to remember she rode with Raoul for four years.  That’s colored her opinions of the Crown.  Don’t get me wrong, she’s as loyal as they come, and she thinks he’s a great ruler.  She’s just not certain about him as a person.”

“Because she rode with Raoul, who is hardly ever more than a month distant from reprimand?”

“That’s only part of it,” Neal maintained.  “You remember Wyldon was going to be allowed to send her home at the end of the first year—for any old reason.  The king made that compromise, made it so her training wasn’t fair, wasn’t just the same as ours.  You know how she is about things being fair.  And other things…she’s an idealist,” Neal pointed out.  He raised his hands to still Faleron’s commentary.  “I’m not saying I’m not!  But the king is practical.  He does what he can where he can.  He doesn’t even engage in battles he doesn’t think he can win.  Yes, he’s changing the law that was in effect when Joren was sentenced regarding Lalasa’s kidnapping, but he hadn’t touched it before that, and there are dozens like it; and laws that are lacking, which allow for the way Lalasa was treated before she came to Kel’s service and the way Tobe was treated.  You know the stories as well as I do, Faleron.  In an ideal world, the Crown would have at least tried to do something about all of these things by now, and the king hasn’t.  So, Kel doesn’t trust him.  Thus, having him around makes her nervous.”

They arrived not long before dinner time.  The captain of Second Company rode at the head.  He dismounted inside the gates and greeted Kel warmly, promising to catch her up on Own gossip when they had time.  “Also, our Lord Knight Commander asked me to remind you about the circumstances under which he would never speak to you again.”

Kel laughed, though she knew the captain was not sure what the message meant.  She explained briefly.  “That’s the Lord Knight Commander’s way of telling me to behave myself while the guests are here.  Speaking of which, I know you are responsible for their security.  You’ll want to take up any details with Sir Merric,” she said, pointing him out on the wall, “or Sir Faleron.  He’s out with the patrol at the moment.” 

The captain nodded.  “We met on the way in.”

Kel pointed out the stables and guest barracks.  “If you need anything, ask one of the youths.  Some days I think they run the place.  They’ll help you with anything you need, especially if you offer some spear fighting pointers.”

“We’ll catch up later, Lady Knight,” the captain promised.  Turning back, he added, “Also, congratulations are in order.”

Kel laughed again, realizing word had gotten out about her Midwinter victory over Sir Raoul.  Then the captain went to take care of his horses and she had to welcome Their Majesties to New Hope.

Roald paused in the door of Kel’s office.  She looked up and invited him in.  Suddenly hesitant, Roald said, “It can wait until morning.”

Kel shrugged.  “Whatever works for you.  Neal’s got the overnight, so I don’t even have to think about waking him when I go to sleep.”

Roald entered and took the open chair, realizing, “You’re not working.  You were waiting for me.”

“I’m always working,” Kel responded, trying to sound wounded.  “I’m writing a letter to Raoul.”

“While you wait for me,” Roald finished. 

“Well, true,” Kel admitted.  “So…”

“When my mother gave me the book on the rarer magics, back at my birthday, I didn’t think much of it.  After all, the writer is pretty well known in mage circles.  When I realized Loey had Singer’s magic, I thought more of it.”

“You realized she wasn’t the only one.”

Roald nodded.  “But I couldn’t understand why I’d never been told.  I grew up knowing that Father, Kally, and I were Gifted, and that my younger siblings and mother were not.  No one ever mentioned Singer’s Magic.”

“Now someone has; now you know.  You’re still troubled.  Why?”

“I feel like they lied to me.”

“Lied to you?  Did you ever actually ask, and has either of them denied it?”

“No,” Roald replied readily.  “I didn’t know to ask until Loey prompted the thought.  But a lie of omission is still a lie.”

“Parents never tell their children everything, Roald.  They’re trying to protect us.”

“Sure, when we’re children, Kel.  I’m 22.  Besides…protect us from what?  This isn’t like not telling the children that when father signs a war declaration good people—innocent people—are going to die.  That I can see—maybe there is an age when we’re too young to understand.”

Kel knew her parents had made a number of decisions throughout her life about what they told her and what they didn’t.  Some of their choices she agreed with, others she didn’t, but she always knew that their intent was to do their best by her.  She had to believe the same was true of Roald’s parents.

“Queen Thayet must have had some reasoning,” Kel pointed out.

Roald sighed.  “She said she never really decided not to tell us.  But none of us showed any sign of having her kind of magic, and she didn’t want to cause a commotion about it.”

“Because the vast majority of Tortall has no idea she’s a mage,” Kel guessed.

“That’s not likely to change.  And perhaps that’s a valid reason for waiting until we were older.  But not a reason not to tell us at all.  No, she didn’t tell us because she still hasn’t convinced my father that it’s not some deeply hidden form of the Gift.  He doesn’t understand her kind of magic, and, rather than argue, she’s let him believe what he wants.  But she couldn’t tell us the truth and have us believe it and him not.  So, she didn’t tell us at all.”

“It’s got to be hard on her,” Kel reflected.  Roald was surprised by this reaction.  “Roald, think about it,” Kel implored.  “How much a part of you is your Gift?  Imagine if one of the people closest to you—Shinko, say—denied it?”

“I’d have to convince her is all,” Roald replied.  “It’s part of who I am.”

Kel nodded.  She knew this was so.  “And if, no matter how hard you tried, no matter what proofs you offered, she still couldn’t wrap her mind around it?”

Roald shook his head.  “I don’t know.  I don’t think I could handle it.”

“Your mother has.  For how many years now?  Twenty some?  As I said, it’s got to be tough on her.”

“So, she just gave up?  That’s not who I thought she was, either.”

Kel smiled ruefully.  “There’s a difference between surrender and tactical retreat,” Kel pointed out.

“Not if the war ends before the second charge,” Roald returned bitterly.

“But it didn’t,” Kel argued.

Roald was stunned into a brief silence.  Then, “You think of this as a war?”

Kel laughed grimly.  “Right now, I think of everything as a war.  That said, your mother’s a commander, too.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the metaphor has occurred to her as well.”  Kel waited a while to see if Roald would say anything more.  “Sometimes you’ve given everything you’ve got and you realize it’s not enough.  You have two choices.  Charge forward to inevitable slaughter—which, though likely involving a heavy dose of glory and heroism, is ultimately ineffective—or retreat; live to fight another day.  Give reinforcements time to arrive; give the ‘enemy’ time to get bored, careless, stupid, worn down, or just time to realize it isn’t worth it.”  Kel put a hand on her friend’s arm.  “I’d guess your mother’s been waiting quite a while for those reinforcements.  It’s probably about time for that second charge, don’t you think?”

Roald thought about it for a while.  When he met her eyes he said, “Sometimes, Kel, you still manage to amaze me.”

“More often I amaze myself,” she answered.  The gate watch called midnight.  “It’s late,” she said, getting up.  “How about we sleep on this?  It’s not as if you don’t know where to find me.”

Thayet joined the staff practice immediately after breakfast the following morning.  She paired off with her son.  “Last night I wasn’t certain you were ever going to forgive me,” she commented as they began.

“Oh, I think I was always going to forgive you.  I just didn’t think I was ever going to understand why things happened the way they did.”

“Until?”  She inquired.

“Kel pointed out that there is a difference between surrender and tactical retreat.”

“I always thought there was, anyway,” Thayet answered.  “I’ve always hoped that someday Jon would understand.”  She smiled at her son.  “I’m just waiting for someday.”  As they traded strikes and blocks, she added, “Perhaps I should have told you earlier; perhaps I should have tried harder; but I had to wonder, if I couldn’t even convince Jon, couldn’t even get him to believe me, what chance did I have of explaining it to anyone else in a way that it would be believable?  It seemed better not to hope you’d understand, and instead to leave the trail there, and let you come to it in your own time and way, if you could.”

“That’s pretty much what Kel thought,” Roald admitted.  “And more or less she convinced me.”  They practiced hard for a while, saying nothing.  Roald had forgotten that his mother led a practice almost as hard as Kel did.  Roald didn’t mind that today; it was an outlet.  “What about Loey?”  He asked when their practice slowed a bit.

“From what you’ve told me, I think it makes sense for her to stay with you for now.”

“Is this about Father?”  Roald asked bluntly.

“I don’t think so,” Thayet answered.  “She—Loey, you said—has been through enough already, don’t you think?  If she’s comfortable here, if to even the slightest degree she thinks this is home, I don’t see any reason to take that from her.  She probably trusts you.”

“Kel, anyway,” Roald replied.

“Unless something unforeseen happens the war will be over by fall.  You’re perfectly capable of teaching her until then.  I’ll leave you A Singer’s Songbook.  I’ve learned much from it over the years.  You and Loey will, too.”  She saw he was still uncomfortable as they took a break for water.  “Roald, you’ll do fine; you already are.”

“How do you know?”  He demanded.

“Because she’s got more control than I did this soon after I realized my power.”

“How do you know?”  He asked again.

She smiled.  “Because I haven’t heard otherwise.  An uncontrolled Singer…creates stories, to say the least.  Also…your Gifted mages are all acting completely normal.  That means she’s got enough control that she’s only using her power within wards, or they’d all be on edge.”

“So that’s normal,” Roald commented, referring to the uneasiness he and Neal felt when Loey’s magic was not controlled.

Thayet nodded, and then put a hand on her son’s shoulder.  “What do you want of me, Roald?  Do you really want me to take her from this space where she feels comfortable, to live with strangers, when I won’t be teaching her anything different than you would until after you’d be home anyway?”

Roald sighed.  “No, not really.”  Roald asked himself what he really wanted.  “At least meet her; come up to our lesson tonight.”

“When, where?”

“After dinner, in my office in headquarters.”

Roald was not even slightly surprised when Thayet eagerly joined in the afternoon lessons.  She’d been the one behind creating schools for all children across the realm.  Children were supposed to attend until ten years of age.  The reality was that in poor families those kids were a source of income, and it was a question of school or dinner.  Most days, dinner won.

During a mid-afternoon break, Jonathan stood near his son.  “Why do this?”

Roald smiled, watching Tobe, Loey, and Gydo joke.  “By midsummer last year, even before Haven fell, the older kids knew what weapons and armor to bring first.  Mail shirts, helms.  Bows.  Kel’s glaive, Merric’s sword.  Not one of them could read, write, or figure more than was necessary to take their parent’s coin and buy supper at the market.  Kel said, rightly, that was sad.  They’re talented, resourceful, resilient kids—especially the orphans.  I wonder sometimes how far they’d go with even a quarter of the opportunities I’ve had.  It’d be a shame to let them be wasted.  Yes, it’s a war.  They need to know what arms and armor matter most; they need to learn spear work.  But we won’t always be at war.  They need to learn to read and write and add and subtract, too.”

“Are you coming home at the end of the war, then?”  Jonathan asked.  He and Thayet had tried not to be overly formal, but he saw now at this fort a whole new level of informality.  The knights in Lady Knight Keladry’s fort made an effort to not show their wealth or status.  It was clear to Jon that his son enjoyed being here, and felt a duty to give these orphans some of the opportunities he’d had growing up.  He had to wonder if Roald meant to give up wealth and status entirely.

“Of course.  Once we’re sure these folks will have somewhere to live; that their struggles won’t be forgotten immediately.”

A messenger rode in just as King Jonathan was getting ready to leave.  The messenger immediately handed a note to the king.  “You’re a hard man to catch, Your Majesty,” the messenger told him.

Kel accepted letters for her and Neal and headed toward the infirmary to hand off Neal’s.  Behind her she heard letters get handed to Yuki and Shinko.

I could almost wish for battle, just to have something to do, Merric thought to himself, heading toward his room.  He opened the door to his room.  Princess Shinko and Yuki both reached for their fans, trying to cover the fact that they’d both been crying.  Shinko made a hasty exit, pulling the door closed after her.  Merric crossed the room and gently pushed Yuki’s fan aside.  “You’re not in the Yamani Islands, anymore,” he reminded her.  “What’s the matter?”

“Lady Haname went home when we came north, to be with her ill mother.  Her mother died over the winter, and Haname was going to return here this spring.  Her ship was captured by Scanran pirates.  She didn’t survive.  The ambassador wrote Princess Shinko and I,” she explained quickly.

And I was hoping for battle, just because I was bored.  Merric knew how close Yuki, Haname, and Shinko had been.  Three strangers in a foreign land, how could they not be?  Gently Merric took the fan from Yuki, closed it, and set it on the bed.  Reassured that he wouldn’t cut himself on the fan’s hidden blades, Merric wrapped Yuki in his arms.

She accepted his comfort briefly before stepping back.  “I love you, Merric, but decades of habit cannot be easily undone.  Will you go away so I can weep for my friend?”

Merric went, closing the door softly behind him.  It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand her reluctance to public displays of emotions.   Knights weren’t supposed to weep either—they were strong and brave.  Fear and sadness were supposed to be unknown to him.

Merric passed by Roald’s office before changing his mind and retracing his steps.  He knocked on the door frame of the office and entered.  Roald looked up.  “What’s on your mind, Merric?”

“The girls got bad news from home,” Merric explained.  “Scanran pirates got Lady Haname’s ship.  She’s dead.”

Roald put his face in his hands for a moment.  Then he looked up, his eyes sad.  “They were closer than blood, all three of them,” he said. 

Merric nodded.  He heard footsteps in the hall and glanced out to see it was Kel.  “I should tell her,” Merric remarked and stepped out of the office.  Roald heard him give Kel the news.

When Roald heard no reaction at all from Kel, he got up, concerned.  Kel had accepted Merric’s embrace.  Hearing Roald’s steps, she straightened.  Her eyes were full, but no tears fell.  She managed a smile for the two men who had married her best childhood friends.  “We might as well all lose face together then,” she said, and headed down the hall toward Roald’s room.

Merric went back to his room, knocking on the door to alert Yuki of his presence.  She sat on the bed, her fan back in her belt.  She looked up when he entered.  “Kel says you might as well all lose face together,” Merric relayed.

“Foreigner,” Yuki muttered.  It would have been an insult if she’d said it so under normal circumstances.

“Hey,” Merric joked, not at all offended.  “It’s taken us years to get her back.”

Yuki looked ready to mutter something even less polite at him, but instead she got up and headed toward Shinko’s room.

When they got to Shinko’s room, they found Kel and Shinko crying on each other’s shoulders.  The two women immediately separated to make room for Yuki.  Roald pulled Merric from the room, letting the door shut.

Merric didn’t argue, knowing the three women would rather grieve in private. 

Roald headed for the infirmary, knowing that Neal would have put off the inventory, not wanting to do it (even though he understood he had to).  This time it would pay off for Roald, who needed something to do with himself.  He hadn’t known Lady Haname well, but she’d been friendly in all of their interactions.  He was saddened by the news.

Neal had stepped out of the infirmary for a moment, so Roald entered unnoticed.  He found the—as he’d expected, unstarted—inventory sheet on the desk.  He wasn’t sure how long he’d been working when Neal asked behind him, “Were you looking for me?”

Roald set down the basket he’d been sorting through, and turned to Neal.  “No; just for something to do and I figured you hadn’t gotten to the inventory.”

Neal looked grateful.  “Hey, thanks,” he began and then realization struck.  “What’s really going on?”  Neal asked, his suspicious nature rising to the surface.

“No trick,” Roald reassured Neal, before explaining.

“I didn’t really know her,” Neal admitted.  “How are they holding up?”

Roald smiled.  “They’re in our room, ‘losing face together,’ as Kel put it.”

“Alright,” Neal said, realizing that Kel wouldn’t want to talk about it until later anyway, and so there was no reason for him to skip out on his shift.  He looked back at Roald, “Well, you’re certainly welcome to the inventory if you want to do it.  The more you do, the less I have to do.”

Neal stayed late in the infirmary, writing up the report that went along with the inventory, since Roald had completed the part of the job Neal liked least.  Neal also admitted to himself he was putting off seeing Kel.  He wasn’t sure how to react in the face of the news Roald had brought him.  Neal had met Lady Haname only once, and while she was polite, she was also distant in the way Neal had come to associate with the Yamani practice of emotionlessness.  While Neal was always saddened by the news of another death, he could not feign the sort of grief he knew Kel felt.  Years in Tortall had made Kel more willing to express her feelings than the Yamani Ladies, but old habits hung still.

Eventually Neal knew he could put it off no longer.  It was late enough that any business of the day was over.  Kel might be in her office working, but Neal expected to find her in their room.

Jump was waiting outside their door.  Neal crouched to scratch his ears.  “Closed you out, did she?”  It happened sometimes, now that Jump wasn’t always at Kel’s side.

Neal got to his feet and let them both into the room.  Jump bounded up onto the bed, where Kel lay with her head on her arms.  Jump jumped over her back neatly and stuck his nose over her shoulder.  His tail wagging, he licked her face once.

“Jump, stop it,” Kel scolded sternly, turning her face away.

With a disappointed sigh, and a wag of his tail, Jump lay down alongside her.  Neal crossed the room and sat on the bed on Kel’s other side.  He put a hand lightly on her back, but said nothing.

She watched him warily, waiting for him to speak.  When it was clear he wasn’t going to she said, “I suppose you heard.”

“Roald told me; he came by looking for something to do.”  Kel didn’t react, and Neal didn’t say anything further.

“You’re really not going to say anything, are you?”  She asked at last.

“Kel, what is there to say?”  Neal asked realistically.  “Lady Haname was someone you cared about; now she’s dead, another casualty of this war.  She’s not the first person we’ve lost that we cared about.  She might not be the last.  I can’t even say, ‘she’s one too many’ because you and I both reached that point a long time ago.”

“The first one is one too many,” Kel replied.

“Exactly,” Neal agreed.  “So, what is there for me to say, Kel?  I was saddened to hear the news; not as sad as you were—I’d only met her once.”

For another moment, they were both silent.  “This isn’t what I signed up for,” Kel commented at last.  “I didn’t sign up to watch good people, innocent people, die and not be able to do anything about it!”

After some thought, Neal said only, “It is war, Kel.”

“And it does no one any good!”  Kel cried in frustration.

“Better than not having the war at all,” Neal replied calmly.  “No war at all, and this country would be overrun, every child gone to Blayce and Stennum, every adult either killed or enslaved.”

“Not even King Maggot could sell that to his people,” Kel replied weakly, though she knew it was as Neal said.  “Besides, Blayce and Stennum are both dead.”

“And the devices gone with them.  Still, I’m willing to argue that anyone who wants to rule the world is not a suitable candidate for actually doing it, and King Maggur—and some of those under him—want to.”  Neal remembered what else she’d said and added, “We are doing something about it, too.  Just having a fortified border stops them from running rampant through here killing everyone they come across.   What we do is keep these good, innocent people from being killed, and all the other good, innocent people in the rest of Tortall, and the other countries that Maggur’s army would set its gaze on if they beat us here.”

“A lot of good it’s done Lady Haname, and Einur, Zamiel, Gil and Morun, Oluf and Vidur, Lofren and Fulcher…” She went on for some time, naming the dead.  “And how many hundreds more who I never knew by name!”  She finished, crying again.

  Neal felt tears on his own face.  He said the only thing he could think of.  “We all carry names on our hearts.  It’s all we can do for them now.”

“It’s not enough.”

To that, Neal had no answer.

With the addition of more than a dozen youth to her spear fighting class, Kel had insisted they move practice after breakfast, so that she could get in her own practice at dawn.  Since her students took the lessons so seriously, she could do no less.  She wanted to race to the walls when she heard the horns, but Cleon had wall duty and was perfectly capable.  Merric had the patrol and within moments, his trumpeter had confirmed the call for friends.  She wished she knew who was coming.  Lord Wyldon had told her the borderlands had been cleared and she shouldn’t expect additional refugees. 

She finished with her spear class and then headed for the gate to see what the news was.  Had the peace been signed at last?

The visitors were being swarmed by the refugees who knew some of them.  Kel raised an eyebrow.  “A bit early in the season for a social call, isn’t it, my lord?”  She asked Raoul.  Dom saluted her but headed for the infirmary to greet his cousin.  She saw Sergeants Balim and Volorin, but no sign of Captain Whiteford of the rest of the company.

“This isn’t a social call, I’m afraid.  We appreciate your hospitality, but won’t be staying long.  I know you keep busy, but—”

“I’m always at my lord’s service,” Kel interrupted.  She turned.  Esmond and Seaver were on hand, drawn by the commotion.  “Ask Faleron and Tobe to meet me in the headquarters meeting room.  Ask Roald to supervise in the stables.”  The children would have taken the Own’s horses in charge, just as they did for her soldiers after battle.  If the Own was riding hard on some important mission, they’d appreciate the help.  Most of them, anyway.  Lerant would be territorial about Raoul’s horses.  She didn’t want him and Tobe, or any of the other children, getting into it.

Faleron was her best strategist.  Whatever brought Raoul to New Hope and not Mastiff was bound to require planning, and for that she wanted Faleron to bounce ideas with.  And if she needed others, Tobe would fetch them.  And it kept him and Lerant apart without hurting either man’s feelings.

Raoul followed her to the meeting room, but didn’t sit.  She didn’t either, not wanting to pressure him.  She knew his body got sore on the long rides, and, if they arrived this early in the morning, they’d probably been travelling at night to avoid Scanran raids.

“Kel?”  Faleron asked, before he’d even cleared the doorway.  “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know yet,” she confessed.  “But I doubt it’s good.”

“It’s not,” Raoul confirmed, finally sitting.  Kel and Faleron followed suit.  “We’ve advance word of an attack on Anak’s Eyrie.”

“And they’re pulling reserve from Steadfast, not Northwatch?”

Raoul grimaced.  “Northwatch is down to just 1200.  King Maggot has never sent less than a thousand against Northwatch, and you know how he is about multi-pronged attacks.  Anak’s Eyrie isn’t the prize.”

Faleron frowned.

“And your thirty is supposed to make a difference at Anak’s Eyrie, sir?”  Kel asked dubious.

“We’d like it to be fifty, if you can spare two squads.  Dom says Gil and Jacut’s squads are good for the kind of work we’re expecting.” 

Kel pinched the bridge of her nose.  “I have sixty actual soldiers to guard over a thousand refugees and Command wants me to give up two of them, so that Northwatch can hold onto twelve hundred soldiers guarding a fort.”

Raoul gave her a dry look.  “When I’ve slept more than ten hours in the past three days, and can look forward to more than ten hours in the next three, your distaste for wartime priorities will be noted.”

A rebuke from Raoul, even as mild as that one, was rare and had Kel immediately straightening.  “Yessir, I understand.  The squads we’ll spare, if you say it’s needful.  I assume you’re riding hard, and want them mounted.  Did your men bring both horses?”

Raoul shook his head.  “Couldn’t risk meeting battle on the road.  We’re on the battle mounts.”

“That helps.  I’m not sure we have forty horses to spare.  Tobe!”  She called.

He popped his head in.  “Yes, Lady Kel?”

“Come in.  Lord Raoul and his men are going to make a hard ride for Anak’s Eyrie.  They’d like to take Gil and Jacut’s squads.  The Own only have their heavier mounts with them, if you haven’t seen.  I need you to tell me what our folk will need for horses to stay with them.  Raoul, if you will, tell us what you’re planning for a route and action at Anak’s Eyrie.  Sir Faleron’s my best strategist.  That’s why I asked him to sit in.”

Raoul nodded and launched into the plan.  They were to be a scouting force – if they arrived before the enemy – and a harrying force to break the siege, if not.  It took a few minutes, and a few comments from Kel before Faleron really offered his opinions on the plan, but, once he did, he had useful insight, as Kel had expected he would.  “I hate to impose further, Kel, but can I take him, too?”

“I want him back,” she warned.

“Understood.”

Kel nodded to Faleron.  “You’ll want to get some rest, and ready your gear.  You’ll be riding at moonrise.  Alert the squads that will be impacted, if you would, and the clerks to reassign the rotations?”

Faleron nodded, understanding the dismissal.  He headed out to do as she’d asked.

“If you don’t need me, Lady, I’ll go to the stables and check on the visitors’ horses, make sure they’re holding up for the rest of the ride,” Tobe said.

Kel nodded permission. 

Once the footsteps in the hallway faded, Kel looked at her former knight-master.  “Twelve hundred at Northwatch, and the General’s expecting at least a thousand on the main prong of the attack.  You’re taking fifty, to boost defenses at Anak’s Eyrie, the second prong.  Is that enough?”

“It’ll have to be.  Anyway, one of the Own’s worth ten of the Scanran raiders.”

Kel scowled.  “You thought he was unfit for command and got himself and two squads of men killed, against your better judgment.  I’d appreciate it if you don’t do the same, respectfully, sir.”

“I won’t.  We will be careful, Kel.  This is important.”

“It has to be.  You can’t be feeling good about leaving Captain Whiteford with just seventy to hold the entire Steadfast district.”

Raoul’s eyes went to the doorway.  “Are we alone?”

“Yes, sir,” she promised.  “Tobe won’t be back for at least an hour.”

Raoul respread the map of the northern territory he’d had out when explaining the campaign to Kel, Tobe, and Faleron.  “As a human, I have feelings about what I’m about to say, but as a wartime commander and strategist…  If Steadfast falls, it will be retaken.  Scanran occupation of the fort will leave them vulnerable, and they’ll never make it past Trebond.  If Anak’s Eyrie falls, there won’t be loyal soldiers in the Scanrans’ way again before Dunlath.  After the treason discovered there a dozen years back, they’re not permitted more than thirty men at arms, and they’ve got one knight, Douglass of Veldine.  Dunlath’ll be overrun.  And then the Scanrans will be inside Tortall.  I’ve battled my way into Dunlath once and it was a royal pain in the rump, even with Numair, Daine, and at least two animal gods blasting our way in.  Anak’s Eyrie is important.”

“And Douglass is your other former squire,” Kel pointed out quietly.  “You’re putting people you care deeply about in danger no matter what you do.  Leaving Flyn shorthanded on the one end, me in the middle, and you’d like to put a whole company between Douglass and the border, but you can’t.”

Raoul nodded wearily.

“Be careful,” she begged him again.  “And get some sleep.  There’s a room directly across the hall.  I’ll confirm your men have found places to bed down as well.”

Raoul sighed, rolling up his map and pushing to his feet with a groan.  “Thanks, Kel.”

Kel and Neal happened to be the two Lords who reported to Wyldon the last time.  “Word came through this morning,” Wyldon told her when she sat down in his office.  “The peace treaty was signed last night in Corus.  The war is over.”

Kel nodded.  “What do I do?”  She asked.

“About?”

“New Hope.  I’ve got a thousand commoners there, who are now homeless.  I give it a month before Corus forgets about them entirely.”

“Yours is an optimistic nature,” Wyldon commented, indicating he thought it would be less than a month.

“So, what do I do?  I can’t just leave them to fend for themselves, but I’m not sure King Jonathan will leave me assigned here permanently.”

Wyldon chuckled.  “The king tracks only a handful of his knights during peace time.  If you get ‘assigned’ anywhere, take it up with Raoul.  The real issue is that we both know you have more use than staying here.”

“It’ll take years to restore the border to the way it was,” Kel pointed out.

“It will,” Wyldon answered.  “The solution, I believe, Lady Knight Keladry, is to make the best of the current situation, accepting that some things will never be the same as they were before the war.  You already have a community centered at New Hope, which will continue to exist, rather than becoming another abandoned fort, like Mastiff will become.”

“They are at this point self-sufficient, and largely self-governing,” Kel admitted.  “But living in barracks with their fifty closest friends is one thing during the war.  It’s another during peace.”

“It would be no trouble to get permission to use the remaining supplies—including lumber—from the war time forts to build housing for the refugees.  With that permission secured, you could return to Corus and whatever else Raoul has planned for you, without worrying that your people have been forgotten before they got their feet under them again.”

“And how would one go about securing this permission?”  Kel asked.

Wyldon smiled.  “I’d have to request that the General include it as part of the end-of-war-disbanding orders.”

“If that wasn’t an implication that you’ve already done so, please do,” Kel said.

Kel and Neal returned to New Hope in time to share the news over dinner.  Both of the young adults shared the mixed emotions that ran through the fort that night.  The relief that it was over, the grief for all who had died, the uncertainty about the future.

Kel stopped Tobe as he left the mess hall.  “Are you coming with me or staying here?”  She inquired. 

“You paid for me for two more years,” he reminded her.

“You actually think I’d hold you to that?”  Kel demanded.

“‘course not.  That’s why you have me—to hold you to your promises.  I’m staying with you.  Besides, Prince Roald’s planning to take Loey back to the palace, isn’t he?”  Kel nodded.  “Someone ought to go with her, so she’s not all alone in that crazy palace you noble folk are always talking about.”

Is this really wise?  Roald asked himself for the dozenth time.  His mother had said Loey’s lessons would and should be basically the same as the lessons he would teach a Gifted child of similar experience.  Without a doubt, if Loey were Gifted, this is what Roald would do.  It just worried him now because the result would come in a form of magic he didn’t understand and couldn’t control.

The war had ended, which made it safe for Roald to take his student out into the woods east of New Hope.  He wanted to do this before they left the border and the opportunity was lost.  They were going back to the spot where she’d had her first interaction with her magic.

Roald suspected, considering what Loey’s mother had told Loey, that the song Loey had sung on that spot was in truth part of a Song, a spell.  Loey’s mother had told her she’d understand someday.  Loey believed herself to have forgotten the song before she had understood it.  Roald hoped and expected that returning to that spot would cause her to remember the song.  He would be surprised if something magically significant didn’t happen.  That’s what worried him, given his limited understanding of Singer’s magic.

When they came near the spot where Neal and Kel had found Loey, Roald set wards using his own magic.  He gave them plenty of space to move in and then made sure the wards were strong.  “Do you know where we are?”  He asked Loey.

She nodded, slipping to her knees.  “Kel found me here that day this winter.”  Loey closed her eyes and began the meditation that they started lessons with.

Roald remained silent, determined to be as hands-off as he could be during this “lesson.”  After a moment Loey began to hum.  Roald felt the first stirrings of uneasiness—his magic still didn’t care to mix with hers.  When she started to sing, the spell began to take shape.  Inside its sphere of influence, Roald experienced the effect.  He recognized the spell, if not the Song, immediately.  It was the first spell he’d done with Loey, to show her that she had magic.  Now the spell was all hers and the power return was magnitudes higher. 

Though it made him uneasy, Roald enjoyed hearing once more the Song of Existence that he hadn’t heard since the first time, when he’d done this spell with her through his own power.  When the unease trumped enjoyment, Roald thought to shield himself from the worst of the power.  The plan failed—it made his unease worse by exposing his power more directly to hers—but it showed him where to take the night’s lesson.

“Loey,” he said softly.  “Can you put up a magnitude warding around me, without dropping the other spell?”  He was asking her to do in her magic what he’d attempted to do in his own.  He’d never before asked her to maintain two spells at once, but it was a reasonable next lesson.

Roald gritted his teeth as she faltered, trying to grasp the new task.  As she struggled, the power in the air fluctuated, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.  It took her several minutes, but in time Loey got both spells working in harmony.  Roald sighed with relief, still able to hear the Song, but no longer burdened with the force of her spell.

Eventually, Loey let the spells end.  She grinned ear-to-ear as Roald let his wards go as well.  “I remembered!”  She told him happily.

“I told you that you would,” he reminded her, pleased by her joy.

They made it most of the way back before the scale of the night caught up with her.  Roald watched her steps sway and knew she was nearly asleep on her feet.  She’d clearly overdone.  After a moment’s consideration, he swung her up in her arms: “Before you collapse.”

He made her drink some of the special tea he and Neal kept for their own nights like this.  “It’s bitter,” he warned her, “but you’ll be a mess in the morning if you don’t.  I’m afraid I let you overdo.”

“It was worth it,” she promised him, though she made a face as she drank the tea.

“I expected it would be.  Good night, Loey; sleep well.”

Kel and the other nobles who had resided at New Hope were the last of the Tortallan military to leave the border after the war.  By the time they left, the leaves were turning, and the harvest was coming in; the outer skeleton of about half the necessary housing was complete; interior work would be done over the winter.  Kel was relieved; her people could fend for themselves.  The evidence was before her.

Kel swung up on Hoshi’s back.  Jump sprang into the carry box behind the saddle.  As Kel settled, Neal, Roald, Shinko, Merric, Yuki, Faleron, Cleon, Esmond, and Seaver mounted up as well.  Tobe and Loey were already mounted and waiting for them at the edge of what had become known as the city of New Hope.

Kel looked over her shoulder there, at the edge.  The fort stood in the center of a spreading ring of hastily but soundly constructed homes.  She saw Fanche in the gate of the fort, giving directions to Peliwin Archer.  Saefas was down the embankment a distance, helping another man with a load of wood.  Gydo and Meech waved to her from one of the new village wells where they drew water they would carry to the blacksmith’s.

Much to Kel’s surprise, it was Cleon who put a hand on her arm.  “We’ll be back,” he reassured her.  Kel nodded, brushing the tears from her eyes.  It was true; they’d be back someday, all of them.