“And the big slimy frog jumped on the—” Katrin sang, then pointed to the boys on her right.

“Rock!” one of them shouted.

She laughed. She’d been expecting lily pad. “And the big slimy frog jumped on the rock—”

She pointed to the girls on her left, who chorused, “and then he fell off!”

She pointed to the boys again. As a group, they yelled out “Plop!” then fell over themselves laughing when Katrin showed them a vision of the frog falling into the pond with a splash.

“How do you make it do that?” one little girl asked.

“I’m a bard, so when I sing something, I can let you see it.”

“But how?”

“I…hmm. I don’t really know. Anyway, it looks like the food is ready, so you should all go eat.”

“Can we sing more later?” a boy asked.

“Well, I’m running out of songs. Do you have some new songs you can teach me?”

“Yes!”

Katrin had spent the morning entertaining the younger children. Luckily, they spoke Eastern; none of them knew trade tongue well enough to sing in it.

With Katrin occupying the children who were too young to look after themselves, the adults were able to get some work done. The men had divided into groups, cutting firewood, setting rabbit snares, or searching for already seasoned wood that was appropriate for fashioning into bow staves. Shavala had frowned at the snares—she’d convinced Corec to stop using his when she took over the hunting duties—but she’d let them pass without comment.

The women were cooking, or helping Shavala forage, or washing clothing in the bathhouse. The cooks had retreated to the far side of the room once Katrin had started applying her bardic skills to the repetitive children’s songs. She couldn’t blame them. She’d had fun, but one could only watch various animals fall off of different objects so many times before needing a break. The adults had been more appreciative of her skills the night before, when she’d played for everyone.

Until encountering the refugees, Katrin hadn’t spent any time with young children since she’d been one herself. They seemed more resilient than the adults. They knew something was very wrong and they wanted to go home, but unlike their parents, they could forget about it for brief periods of time while they played. None of the children knew how dangerously low the food supplies had gotten, but at least the stormborn patrol was due to arrive soon. The youngest of the children didn’t seem aware that half their village was dead, though in some cases, they knew that not all of their friends had come with them when they’d fled Jol’s Brook. Katrin was just relieved she could plead ignorance and leave those discussions to the parents.

There was a commotion outside and two of the older boys ran into the building, accompanied by Nedley, who was closer to their age than to the adults. Boktar had told him to watch over the older children, more to give him something to do than out of any real need.

One of the boys shouted, “The mountain lords are here!” That was how the refugees referred to the stormborn when Sarette and Gregor weren’t around to hear them.

“Nedley!” Katrin said. “Go find Corec, Sarette, and the others.” Everyone had stayed near the camp for the day, waiting for the stormborn patrol.

“Yes, miss!” he replied. “Alfin, Edgar, come on. Split up and we can find ‘em faster.”

Katrin headed for the door too, but had to wait while the women and children all filed out, more interested in seeing the new group of stormborn than finishing their midday meal.

Outside, Gregor and Tomas had already greeted the patrol, fifteen armed and armored stormborn with ten full supply sleds.

Katrin breathed a sigh of relief. They’d brought enough food for the villagers to return to Jol’s Brook safely, and fifteen soldiers would give pause even to snow beasts. She hadn’t realized until then how anxious she’d been.

“Will you look at that?” Corec said, coming up behind her and dropping an arm around her shoulders. “If we’re attacked again, we have a choice of a spear wall or an entire company of crossbowmen. Hell, we could split them up and do both.”

She laughed. Apparently he’d been thinking along the same lines. “Are we going to leave now?”

“I don’t know what those soldiers are going to want to do. If I get a vote, I think tomorrow’s soon enough to head back to Jol’s Brook—or Elmsford, or wherever they’ll be able to buy enough supplies. Then we can retrace our route back to Snow Crown and pick up the horses. I think Ellerie and Bobo want to talk to the historians some more before we head out, and I need to buy a new sword and give this one back.” He was referring to the strange, glowing sword he’d found below the ruins. It wasn’t glowing now, though—only when he drew it. He’d placed it in his old sheath, attached to the harness on his back, where it stuck up two inches higher than his previous sword.

“What’s wrong with Sarette?” Katrin asked. The stormborn woman had joined Gregor and the patrol, but had suddenly stepped back, looking pale, as if she might faint.

#

“Captain,” Sarette said, saluting the officer. “Thank you for coming. I’m Lieutenant Sarette. I was the one who signaled for help.” She’d arrived while Gregor, Boktar, and Tomas were explaining which items they needed most urgently.

The captain, whose name she didn’t know, glanced at her, then turned away and issued orders to his men to start unpacking and distributing the supplies.

Sarette was accustomed to the High Guard not taking her seriously—the ones who knew her history, at least—but she’d never been completely ignored before. There wasn’t anything she could do about it, though, without being taken to task for insubordination. She waited to see if the man intended to include her in the orders he was giving.

“Just a moment, Scout,” the captain said when Gregor made a move to help haul a crate from one of the sleds. “I’d like you to remain here.”

Gregor nodded and waited.

Once everyone else was busy with their tasks, the captain switched to the stormborn language. “Junior Lieutenant Sarette, Senior Scout Gregor, you are both hereby relieved of duty.”

Sarette stepped back in shock.

“What?” Gregor exclaimed. “Why?”

“I’m told that you were assigned to accompany the warden’s party to South Valley, not to bring an entire village of humans here. And certainly not to make them aware of the watchtowers.”

“What were we supposed to do? Leave them to be killed by snow beasts? To go hungry?”

Sarette kept silent. Scouts were outside the traditional chain of command, and with his rank, Gregor could get away with talking back to the captain like that, but she couldn’t.

“If you have a defense, you can present it at your trial. In the meantime, I’m taking command of your expedition. Someone’s got to clean up your mess.”

#

Kartik removed the wrap he’d left around Leena’s upper chest, covering her new tattoo. She winced as he gently washed the area.

“Let it get air, but not direct sunlight,” he said. “If you’re in the sun, wear something loose. Your normal dresses will irritate it.”

“I know,” she said. “A friend in the city loaned me a blouse.”

She didn’t have any of her own clothing left anyway, other than the undergarments she’d been wearing when she Traveled from Stone Home to Matihar. After she’d disappeared without paying the rent, her landlord had sold everything she’d owned. She’d had to borrow dresses from Kartik’s sisters to prepare for her next journey.

Before checking on her apartment, she’d stopped back at the bakery to tell Sanja and Madi that she wouldn’t be able to return to work after all. They’d been concerned, not understanding her odd behavior, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell them the truth. She didn’t want to break down in front of them. After her experiences of the past few months, it had seemed almost strange to say goodbye rather than simply disappearing again without a word.

She stared at the tattoo in the mirror. The design she’d chosen to signify her blood feud was a dagger above her left breast, aimed toward her heart. With her arms and chest bared, most of her tattoos were visible, but the new one stood out, still red and irritated from the procedure. The unhealed skin lining the ink almost looked like blood along the edges of the blade.

Aruna entered the tent, frowning when she caught sight of the tattoo. “Please reconsider, Leena. We just got you back! Udit needs you here!”

“And I need to know that he’s safe! That I’m safe! What if they come back for us?”

“You don’t even know where to find them!”

“I’ll ask around until I find someone who recognizes the sigil,” Leena said, putting her blouse back on. “I’m taking one of the knives with me. I’ll check with the other camps. I’ll search Sanvara City. Whatever it takes.”

It might take a long time to find a clue, but Sarlo had taught Leena a few tricks about Seeking.

“Even if you find them, what will you do about it? You’re no fighter.”

“That’s why I’m not looking for them yet. There’s somewhere else I need to go first.”

“What do you mean?”

Leena closed her eyes. Her plan was to Travel bit by bit until she reached Tyrsall, then ask Sarlo for help. He’d been convinced that his friend could help her master her magic. If she could learn to kill her enemies with Traveling, the way Rohav had done, it would be better than a weapon.

Just as she was about to Seek a safe spot to teleport, she had a completely different thought. Give me a way to avenge my parents’ deaths, a way to defeat my enemies, a way to protect my brother.

The Seeking failed. Either she wasn’t strong enough or she wasn’t close enough.

Then show me where I need to be next to do so.

It shouldn’t have worked, but it did. There was a faint twinge, north by northeast. She checked the compass and map she’d borrowed from Rohav. She could only Seek a short distance, and she couldn’t see where it would take her next, but the sensation was coming roughly from the direction of Tyrsall. Even her new plan might be sending her to Sarlo, which just strengthened her resolve. There was a safe Traveling spot within her Seeking range. It would take over a month to get to Tyrsall that way, but it was safer than trying to teleport to a city she’d never been to.

Leena folded up the map and put it and the compass in her new travel pack, then slung the pack over her right shoulder, avoiding the tattoo on her left side.

“Goodbye, Grandmother,” she said. “Say goodbye to everyone else for me, and watch over Udit.”

“Wait—“ Aruna started.

Leena Traveled.

#

Once again, Rusol woke in a dream world of mists. He growled, looking around for the First. “Where are you?” he shouted.

There was no answer. Had the man just left him here alone, as some new form of torment?

The mists swirled, and then a voice spoke in his head.

I can help you. I can give you what you want.

“Who are you? Show yourself!”

A shifting shadow appeared in the mists before him, too indistinct to make out any details.

I know what you want.

“Oh? And what’s that?”

You want to kill them both. Leoniss, and the man who calls himsself the Firsst. But you will fail.

Was this some sort of test? Were the two wardens working together to discover his intentions?

“I don’t want to kill anyone,” Rusol said.

Sibilant laughter surrounded him, seeming to come from all directions.

You should. Leoniss lies to you, as his masster lies to him. The ritual will kill you.

“What do you mean?” If this was a test, would Leonis actually be encouraging Rusol to kill him?

He believes the power will be his alone, but he lies about lies. Pallissur wantss it for himsself.

“Pallisur’s a god, if he even exists. He already has power!”

Not enough. It’sss never enough for him, and he’ll spend your life to take it. But you can sstop him.

“How?”

You must kill Leoniss, but you won’t ssuccseed without my help.

“I don’t need any help.”

You’ll not be able to hide your true nature from him for much longer. He will desstroy you—no demon-blooded can face the magic Pallissur granted him.

Rusol thought back to Samir’s description of how easily Leonis had defeated the hunters. They’d been controlled through demonic magic. Could he do the same to a demonborn?

“What sort of help are you suggesting?”

You can’t sstop him…unlesss you are protected by that ssame magic.

Rusol shook his head, confused. “Pallisur’s magic? You want me to become a priest of Pallisur?”

Not Pallissur’s. Mine.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with riddles, and I have no reason to trust you.”

Why trusst anyone? The others are using you to further their own ends, but you and I have the ssame goal. The wardens musst be eliminated.

“Then show yourself. Tell me who you are!”

I have no form or name. I was here before the wardens, before Pallissur and the other falsse gods. Accept my gift and help me put things right. You’ll have the power to sstop the wardens, to end their control over these lands. You’ll be the lasst of them, and no one will be sstrong enough to stand in your way.

“No,” Rusol said. “I’m not your errand boy. I won’t do your bidding.”

The hissing laughter came again. It’ss not my bidding, but your own. And sso…

The pain came without warning. Rusol fell to the ground, screaming as divine blessings burned themselves into his mind, along with the knowledge of how to use them.