Book 1: Chapter Eight

Present day…

“Thank you for allowing us to camp out here,” Corec said to the farmer as he handed over five copper coins, on top of the two silver he’d given the man the night before for additional supplies. With the pack mule to carry everything, and by supplementing their meals with what they could find or catch along the way, they’d have enough food to get to the elven border camp and then back to the West Road before needing to buy more.

After saying their farewells, Corec and his companions returned to the rough trade road and continued southwest toward the forest. The farmer had said it was another hundred twenty miles away, which Corec figured would take four days, given the condition of the road. If they met up with a caravan, it would take longer but would be worth it—the elves allowed traders and the occasional hunter, but Corec wasn't sure how welcoming they were outside of that.

He was in front, leading Dot. Katrin and Bobo were behind him, walking next to each other so they could talk. Bobo had offered to lead the pack mule.

At one point, Katrin said to Bobo, “Why did you decide to visit the hillfolk, anyway?”

“Well, as I said, I’m a seeker of knowledge. The hillfolk have been settled in one place for longer than almost anyone, except for the elves I suppose, and maybe the eastern cities. I hoped to find some wisdom among them.”

“Did you?”

Bobo sighed. “It was a great disappointment, I’m afraid. Small towns and farming villages full of the superstitious and the ignorant. If I wasn’t a priest of the Fox, I suspect they would have run me off sooner.”

“You aren’t a priest,” Corec reminded him, calling back over his shoulder.

“Seeing as how they still follow the old gods, I’ll let them decide who is and who isn’t,” Bobo said. “I imagine I’m as legitimate as any of the others wandering the hills. I certainly did the work of one.”

Corec shook his head. “Just keep it quiet when we get back to the West Road, will you? We’re still close enough to Tyrsall to fall under its rule, and there are laws about pretending to be a priest. Maybe the villagers won’t catch on, but somebody will.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll be careful,” Bobo said.

“If you didn’t find what you were looking for, why did you stay for so long?” Katrin asked.

“I wanted to keep looking. There are records of old civilizations, you see, and we don’t know where all of them were located. I was hoping to see, perhaps, some old ruins—something to suggest that the hill people weren’t always backwoods farmers. But, alas, nothing.”

“Why not go back west? You’re from Matagor, right?”

“Ah, well, I’ve already been west. I decided it was time to see something new. I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“All right,” Katrin said.

“How ever did you get your tattoo to glow so brilliantly? Is it the ink? There are a lot of people who would pay a lot of money for markings like that. Is it common out this way?”

Corec stopped walking and turned back to watch. Katrin had stumbled to a halt, briefly covering the rune on her forehead with her hand before looking down in embarrassment.

“It’s not a tattoo,” she mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“It’s not a tattoo. I don’t know what it is.”

“You don’t know what it is? Then how did you get it?”

“We don’t know!” she exclaimed. “They just appeared.” She pointed at Corec. “He’s got one, too!”

Bobo looked at Corec’s forehead with raised eyebrows.

Corec tapped his right arm. “They showed up a few days ago. Some sort of magic, but we don’t know what caused it. We’re going to ask the elves, to see if they have any ideas.”

“Fascinating,” Bobo said. “You must let me study them. Perhaps I can help!”

Katrin gave him a sour look.

Corec shrugged. “When we stop for the night, I can show you mine. It looks the same as hers; just the location is different.”

Bobo nodded. “And they appeared out of nowhere?”

“No, it…” Corec paused, then looked at Katrin. “That night at the inn, you said your forehead itched. Did it?”

“Yes! And you wouldn’t let me…” She blushed and stopped speaking.

“My arm was itching in the spot where the rune appeared. It stopped after it showed up. Maybe for a week? A week and a half? What about you?”

She stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “At least a week. I don’t know—I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“I think it may have happened in that village where I saw you play,” Corec said. “And if it started that long ago, it might not be just us. There might be other people with these things, too.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to think about it. Could we talk about something else?”

“Of course, my dear…” Bobo said.

They continued on their way, Bobo telling Katrin tales about his time among the hillfolk, though he didn’t speak much about his life before that.

They’d been walking for another hour when two men who’d been hidden by the trees suddenly stepped out in front of them. They were unshaven and wore dirty clothing, and Corec could smell them from where he stood. The one on the left aimed a crossbow his way while the other held a curved backsword—a style more commonly used by light cavalry, but it would be just as dangerous in the hands of a man on foot. A crossbow bolt wasn’t likely to penetrate Corec’s plate armor, but that didn’t make him any less wary. Katrin and Bobo were right behind him, as was Dot, and he’d taken to leaving the face guard off his helmet since it was uncomfortable. An unlucky shot could hit any of them.

“Well, well, Father,” the man with the sword said, looking at Bobo. “We just wanted to talk the other day. Was it really necessary to run away? Where’d you find these two?”

“Why, gentlemen, I wasn’t running away,” Bobo said. “I merely had to hurry so I could meet my friends on time. And, as you can see, I did. We can talk now if you wish.”

At first, Corec couldn’t figure out why two highwaymen would risk waylaying a man in heavy armor, but then he saw the look the swordsman gave Katrin. Realizing a fight was inevitable, he focused within himself and prepared his barrier shield trick, feeling something within his mind shift once it was in place. The barrier would only last for a few minutes at most, and would only block one or two hits before dissipating, but if he could get the crossbowman to waste his shot on it, then he could take him down before he could reload. The barrier would shimmer briefly if it was hit, but with Katrin and Bobo to the rear, maybe they wouldn’t notice.

He decided not to wait any longer, figuring that a cocked crossbow being pointed in his direction constituted enough of a threat. He didn’t intend to let the men rob him, and he wanted to get the fight started before the barrier wore off.

“That’s kind of you, Father,” the swordsman said, “but it was very inconvenient having to track you down. I think we deserve something for our trouble.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any—”

Corec charged forward, reaching behind himself to pull the scabbard off its harness. “Get behind the mules!” he shouted back to his companions as he drew the sword and tossed the scabbard to the side.

The crossbowman was surprised by the rush. His shot went wide, not hitting the barrier at all, and he dropped the crossbow to grasp for the dagger on his belt. Corec raised his sword just before he got within reach, then slashed down diagonally. The man wasn’t wearing armor and the cut went deep where his neck met his shoulder—he died almost instantly, falling with a spray of arterial blood.

Corec spun to his right, swinging his arm out as the other man slashed at him. He’d planned to catch the blade on his vambrace, but it hit the barrier shield instead, which shimmered and disappeared. The man stopped in shock, which gave Corec time to change his grip on his own sword. With one hand on the hilt and the other on the ricasso, he thrust forward.

The highwayman dropped his weapon, but when Corec tried to pull back on his sword, the dying man staggered along with it—the blade had gotten stuck in his ribs. Corec braced himself and pushed the man off. Without the blade to support him, the bandit fell to the ground, the damage to his chest too severe for him to live.

After making sure that both men were dead, Corec wiped the blood from his sword and retrieved the scabbard, then turned back to face his companions. They were both peering wide-eyed at him from behind the mules. Bobo was clutching his walking cudgel as if worried he was going to have to use it for something other than walking. Katrin was pale, and even as Corec watched, she stumbled, having to grab for Flower’s saddle to remain on her feet.

He hurried over and helped her sit down on a fallen log at the side of the road.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, then glanced at the bandits’ bodies. She swallowed, averting her eyes. She didn’t seem to have noticed the barrier shield.

“Well, that was bracing,” Bobo said.

Corec just looked at him.

“All right, all right,” Bobo said. “I’ll be quiet. Actually, I think I may need to sit down, too.” He joined Katrin on the log and put his head in his hands.

Dot had trotted off in the commotion, so Corec whistled for her to return before he walked back to the bodies. The man with the crossbow had fallen on his side, while the other had fallen forward. Corec used his foot to nudge both of them onto their backs. He still wasn’t used to seeing dead bodies—even as a caravan guard, he could count the number of real fights he’d been in on one hand. Staring at them now, he noticed a resemblance between the two men.

“I think these are the Herman brothers,” he said, wishing he’d looked more carefully at the poster.

“Who?” Katrin asked.

“When I was in Tyrsall, looking at bounties, they were on the board. Bandits and murderers.”

“How much are they worth?” Bobo asked, looking up.

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Corec said, “but for murderers, I think it’s usually five gold each. And I assume they don’t have to be taken in alive.” Ten gold coins was a lot of money.

“Are you going to claim it?” Bobo asked.

Corec looked down at the bodies, considering it. “I’d have to get them to Tyrsall, and we’re going in the opposite direction. It’ll be at least three weeks until I’m back there. Even if I head that way now, it’s a week away, and I’m not going to drag two dead bodies around for that long.”

“I think you only need to take their heads,” Bobo said. “That’s how they do it in Matagor, anyway.”

Corec shuddered. “I don’t think I’m going to do that, either. I don’t know why I thought I was cut out for this bounty hunting business.”

“Maybe you were just greedy,” Katrin said bitterly.

“No, I don’t think that’s it,” he said, meeting her gaze. She turned away, looking uncomfortable. He still wasn’t sure why he’d come after her—it wasn’t like him to be that impetuous. He’d found her attractive and had wanted to talk to her, but he hadn’t thought about what would happen after he’d caught her.

Bobo glanced at them curiously, but didn’t ask what they were talking about.

Facing him, Corec said, “If you want the heads, you’re welcome to them. You can take enough food to get you back to the city, and ten gold should let you do whatever you were planning to do.”

“No, no, that’s quite all right,” Bobo said. “I’ll come with you to the forest. I’ve always wanted to see Terrillia.”

“They won’t let us see Terrillia,” Corec reminded him. “Just the border camps. Let me see what these fellows have, then you can help me bury them.”

He searched the men for their coin pouches, finding a mix of silver and copper that totaled over two gold coins between them. That would be enough to pay for Katrin’s mule and the food and supplies he’d purchased, so he took it for himself. The sword was worthless, but the crossbow was in good shape, and the same man had a decent-looking dagger with an eight-inch blade.

Corec took the dagger over to Katrin. “Here. If we’re going to be dealing with bandits, I’d feel more comfortable if you carried a weapon of some sort.”

She took it from him and looked down at her dress, which didn’t have a belt. It did, however, have small, decorative laces at each hip, used for tightening the dress around her waist. She untied the bow on her left side and strung the laces through the scabbard’s belt loop, tying it again tightly.

“Thank you,” she said.

“That’s twice you’ve thanked me in five minutes,” he murmured so Bobo couldn’t overhear. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to forget you hate me.”

She tried to glare at him, but there was a ghost of a smile on her face.

“We can probably sell the crossbow back at the village,” he said, “unless either of you know how to use it.”

Katrin shook her head.

“I understand the principle,” Bobo said, “but I’ve never tried.”

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

“I could teach you if you’d like.” Corec had learned to use one during his time at Fort Hightower, but he didn’t like to carry the cumbersome weapon himself. He’d never been in the position of ambushing someone else, and as the person defending against ambushes, he didn’t want to waste time cocking a crossbow.

“I don’t think I could bring myself to shoot someone,” Bobo said.

Corec sighed. Apparently the man wouldn’t be of any more use in future fights than he’d been in this one.

“All right, I’ll sell it, then. Go grab the camp shovel off the pack mule and let’s see about burying these two.”

While Bobo was searching the mule, Katrin asked, “Is ten gold enough to pay my penalty, so I wouldn’t have to go to prison?”

“I didn’t ask them, but I’m sure it is, unless you stole a lot more than you let on. Why? Do you want to carry the heads back to Tyrsall?”

She shivered. “No. I was just curious. And anyway, we need to go see the elves.”

#

Two days later, early in the evening, they came across a trading caravan setting up camp in a large, clear area on one side of the road. There were ten cargo wagons laid out in a wide circle. At the rear of one, two men had set up an awning and were unloading cooking supplies.

The camp was busier than Katrin had expected, with several guards standing around the edges while drivers were setting up picket lines for the mules.

She realized this was the caravan Corec had been looking for, so she was tempted to put on her cloak and hood to hide her mark, but it was too hot. Hopefully nobody would pay any attention to her. She followed Corec to the edge of the camp. Flower walked up to stand next to her, so she scratched the mule's neck while Bobo drew even with them.

Beyond the camp, far in the distance, Katrin saw a massive pine tree poking above all the others. It must have been three times the height of the tallest trees near it.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing.

“Elf tree,” Corec said. “That’s just one by itself, but wait until we get to the forest and you’re surrounded by them. I told you you’d know it when you saw it.”

“Elf tree?” Katrin asked.

“Well, that’s not what they call them,” Corec said, “but I don’t remember their word for it.”

“Tershaya,” Bobo said. “I saw a few when I visited Terevas, but they were just single trees like this one. I can’t imagine what an entire forest of them would look like.”

“Corec? Heyo!” a thick, bearded man said as he came up to them. He wore brigandine armor and carried a shield, and had a sword on his belt. “Company send you out after us?”

“Hey, Melos,” Corec said, his speech falling into a drawl that matched the guard’s. “No, I was just heading this way myself. You’ve got a small caravan this time.”

“Always small this time of year. Shipments to Terril will get bigger after the harvest. We’re just carrying iron ingots.”

“Who’s master for this run?”

“Lors. He’s taken it over regular.”

“Oh, good. I know him. Mind if we come on through?”

“Go ahead.”

Melos stood aside, letting them pass. Katrin and Bobo followed Corec through a gap between wagons, still leading their animals, then waited while he sought out a man dressed in nicer clothing than the rest, with gray hair and a mustache. Katrin listened while they spoke.

“Lors,” Corec said.

“I know you,” the man said. “A couple years back, right?”

“Yes. Name’s Corec. We made the Terril run, then a few months later I substituted for one of the regulars to High Cove.”

“That’s right. I don’t do High Cove anymore, though. So what are you doing out here? They got you on messenger duty now?”

“Messenger duty, but not for Senshall. Someone had something they wanted brought out to the elves. I was heading this direction anyway, so I took the job. You mind if we keep you company on the way in? We brought our own food, and I’m willing to stand a watch.”

“The boys would appreciate that,” Lors said. “The company’s cut us back to four men for the smaller Terril runs. They say there haven’t been any problems out this way in years.”

“We ran into a couple of bandits just two days ago,” Corec said. “They won’t be a problem anymore.”

“Good to know. I’ll tell the bosses.” Lors nodded toward Katrin and Bobo. “I’ve never seen your friends before.”

“They won’t cause any problems, and the girl’s a bard. Free music tonight if you want it.”

Katrin’s eyes went wide. She hadn’t performed by herself since leaving Circle Bay, and those had always been very small groups. There must have been twenty-five people in the camp, and for groups that large, she’d always worked with Felix. She wished Corec hadn’t said anything.

Lors looked her over more carefully, so she smiled and tried to appear confident.

“Music, eh? I could go for that. What’s that on her head, though?”

She flushed in embarrassment.

“It’s a tattoo,” Corec said. “A special kind of ink.” Apparently he’d decided that Bobo’s suggestion was the best way of passing off her mark. She would have been mad, except she hadn’t had any better ideas herself.

Lors nodded. “And you’ll make sure there’s no trouble?”

“I’ll see to it,” Corec said. “By the way, I hear you’re carrying a load of iron? Anything besides that? I’d like to bring a gift for the elves, since I’m not part of the caravan.”

“A few of the boys brought extras—check with them.”

“Thanks,” Corec said, then returned to Katrin and Bobo.

As Lors walked away, Katrin hissed, “Why didn’t you ask me before saying I’d play tonight?”

“What’s the problem? I wanted to make sure he’d let us stay. Maybe a few of them will even tip you, so I don’t have to keep buying everything you need.”

She glared at him. “I’m not used to performing alone.”

“You did fine that night at the inn while your uncle was working the crowd.”

“That was just a couple of songs!”

“These folks will be happy with whatever you want to do. They don’t get a lot of chances to hear music. You don’t have anything to worry about—you’ve got a nice voice and you play well.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t realized he’d liked her performance. “All right, I suppose.”

“You didn’t offer my services?” Bobo said.

Corec shook his head. “I’m still not entirely sure what those services are, and you don’t want to go around pretending to be a priest with this lot.”

“Very well. Perhaps I’ll try to forage for some herbs this evening, then. What was that about making sure there won’t be any trouble?”

“Katrin’s the only woman in camp,” Corec said. “It should be fine, but you and I need to make sure she doesn’t go anywhere alone, in case one of the boys tries to make trouble.”

Surprised, Katrin looked around the camp again. She hadn’t realized until then that every person she’d seen was a man. Corec had proven himself able to handle the bandits, but she hated having to depend on him for protection.

There wasn’t much she could do about it, though, so she just said, “What now?”

“Let’s set ourselves up a little bit outside the circle,” Corec said. “After we eat, I need to see what extras the traders brought, and then we’ll see if Lors wants you to perform tonight.”

#

Two hours later, Katrin and Corec were looking over the wares the traders had brought, while Bobo was off searching for whatever he could find in the woods. After three days, Katrin didn’t mind having a break from his constant talking.

“What about this?” she asked, holding up a little brass bird.

Corec examined it. “It’s pretty, but the elves’ ornamental work is usually better than ours. Someone there may buy it, but I’m not sure it would be a good choice for a gift.”

“Well, what, then? There’s not a lot of choice.”

“The dried peppers, I suppose.” He turned to the trader who was standing nearby. “How much for the bag? And are these the only peppers you brought for this trip?”

“Seven silver, and yes, these are all I brought.”

Corec winced at the price. “I’ll give you three.”

They eventually settled on five, and the trader handed over the bag.

As Katrin and Corec walked away, she said, “Peppers? Really?”

“Well, they’re expensive for what they are, but not so much I can’t afford them. The elves can’t grow them in the forest, and it’s not something they get regular shipments of.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Katrin admitted.

“To be honest, I don’t really know if it’s a good idea or not,” Corec said. “I’m not even sure if the gifts are a requirement or just a tradition. I’ve only been there a few times, and I haven’t run into many elves outside the forest.”

Katrin liked that he was willing to admit that.

“But you think we need a gift?” she asked.

“Well, whether we do or not, the wood elves don’t usually use money except when dealing with human merchants. They’re more likely to barter for what they need. If we’re asking for information, or for help in getting rid of the runes, I think we should offer something in return.”

She nodded.

Lors waved them over from where he stood watching over the activity in the camp. When they reached him, he said, “Miss, are you willing to play for us now?”

“Oh,” Corec said, “I should have introduced you. Lors, this is Katrin, the bard.”

“Miss Katrin, then,” Lors said.

“I’ll go get my instruments.” She’d need to tune the harp before starting. She felt guilty—this would be the first time she’d played since Felix had left. She should have been practicing every day, but she hadn’t wanted to play in front of Corec after he’d betrayed her. Over the last few days, though, her anger had begun to fade. The two of them were stuck in the same situation with the runes, and there was no way she could have dealt with the bandits on her own. Perhaps it was time to put the past behind her—not that she necessarily needed to tell him that.

Fifteen minutes later, she was ready. Lors had set up a stool for her in the center of the large camp, and she waited with him as he called people over.

“Everyone, gather around!” Lors shouted. “We’ve got guests tonight. One of them, Miss Katrin here, is an actual bard. She’s going to play for us, so don’t go making asses of yourselves!”

Well, it wasn’t the worst introduction she’d ever gotten. As people drew close, they glanced curiously at the mark on her forehead. The story that Corec and Bobo had been using—that it was a tattoo with some special ink that made it glow—seemed to be working, but she still didn’t like how everyone’s eyes were drawn to it.

When she and Felix played to an audience, Felix usually did the talking, so she skipped that part, took a seat on the stool, and jumped right into her first song—a flute rendition of a playful, lively tune. The men chose to sing along, but the lyrics they used were a version she hadn’t heard before, about a city girl who went for a walk in the country and lost her dress, then managed to lose the rest of her clothes while searching for it.

Katrin felt herself blush while she played, but, thankfully, the song was short. She switched to her harp next and sang a love ballad.

She hadn’t used her bardic skills—such as they were—on the first song, since it was harder to do when she wasn’t singing. She used those skills now, though, to push the emotions of yearning and desire onto her audience…though not too much desire, since she didn’t want them getting any ideas.

Trained bards could do much more. They could make people see the actual songs take place in their heads. On the few occasions she’d had the opportunity to listen to real bards, she’d seen visions of heroic kings, glorious battles, and couples finding true love. In Circle Bay, she’d once snuck into a concert given by a master bard who performed songs about music itself. With just a flute, he’d been able to make the audience see and hear an entire orchestra and choir.

It must be some sort of magic, though she’d never heard anyone refer to it that way. The bardic school in Circle Bay had refused to take her on as a student, just as the one in Tyrsall had, so she’d never been able to learn more about it. She’d looked for the master bard after his performance, to ask him to teach her, but he’d left the building by a different door and left the city soon after.

If her bardic skills really were magic, could they have something to do with the glowing mark on her forehead? She’d never heard of anything like that, and it didn’t explain why Corec had one too, but she had to at least consider the possibility. It would be embarrassing to discover she’d been the one responsible all along, and she silently hoped that wasn’t the case. She pushed a little hope into the song at an appropriate spot, even though that wasn’t usually part of the performance.

When she noticed Corec watching from the crowd, she grew self-conscious and decided not to sing any more love songs. Plus, while the all-male audience was listening politely, they didn’t seem particularly interested, even with the extra heft from her bardic abilities. She decided she needed to change things up—for her next song, she sang a little ditty about Arodisis, the goddess of love and beauty, foiling Fox’s plans to spy on her as she bathed. That one got the audience laughing and charged up, and Katrin began to feel the familiar exhilaration of performing in front of a crowd. She decided to avoid any sad songs, so her next choice was a battle hymn. It wasn’t really appropriate for her voice, but she managed to pull it off, partly due to her bardic talent. Even though she hadn’t practiced in several days, it came to her more easily than it had in the past.

While she played, Corec walked up and dropped a copper coin in her harp case, which prompted Lors and a couple of the other men to do so as well. She wouldn’t make much from this group, she knew, but it would be nice to have some money of her own.

As she sang, she was already picking out other songs she could perform by herself, enjoying the chance to make her own choices rather than following her uncle’s.

#

Ellerie di’Valla sat at a table in the dingy inn, staring at her mother’s spy. He’d dyed his silver hair black and wore it over his ears to fit in better with the humans, though no one who’d seen an elf before would mistake his face if they got a good glimpse. She didn’t bother to hide her own nature—her hair was tied back behind her ears, and she wore the true color openly.

“Well?” she said. “You found me. Again.”

“You have duties in Terevas, Exalted,” he said.

“Terevas is a prison. I don’t have duties—the High Council merely wishes to find someone they can manipulate better than they can my mother.”

“Exalted, please, I must ask that you return home. The queen is very ill.”

“She’s been pretending to be ill for five years now. She likes the look on her enemies’ faces when they realize her mind is as sharp as ever.”

“She’s not pretending. She hasn’t been able to attend Council meetings for the past two months.”

Ellerie winced, though she tried to hide it. Without her mother to guide them, the councilors would never be able to agree on anything. But she couldn’t return to that life—she despised everything about it. And even if her mother wasn’t well, Ellerie had no desire to visit the manipulative, vindictive woman.

“Send Vilisa in her place,” she suggested. “She’s good at that sort of thing, and Mother can provide guidance behind the scenes.”

“Your sister’s only a hundred and three. She’s still eight years from reaching majority.”

“So? She’s the heir. She can be appointed no matter her age.”

“You’re the heir!”

“As I’ve told you before, and I’ve told Mother, I’ve abdicated. I’m no longer in the line of succession.”

“You can’t abdicate!”

“Well, I did,” Ellerie said. “And you know very well that Vilisa is a better choice. She likes all that nonsense, and she’s smarter than Mother. Just teach her to fake having a backbone until she can grow a real one.”

“You must return!” the man said, pushing his chair back as he stood to loom over her.

“Or what?” she asked. “Are you going to drag me back to Terevas in chains?”

There was no mistaking the look of anger that crossed his face, but he was not allowed to act against her in any way—he could only cajole her. Even if he took her abdication seriously, she was still a daughter of the di’Valla dynasty. Still, Ellerie touched the comforting weight of her rapier’s scabbard, just to remind herself it was there if she needed it.

Composing himself, the man gave a formal bow. “Exalted, with your permission, I will take my leave.”

She nodded in acceptance and waited until he was gone, then stood and walked to the other side of the room, joining her stoneborn companion.

“He’s persistent, that one,” the dwarf said. “I thought I might have to go whack him over the head.”

“I can defend myself, Boktar.”

“With what? That little sewing needle you call a sword? I wish you’d wear some bloody armor.”

“How many times must I tell you? Too much metal interferes with my spells.”

“Then at least wear a gambeson, Elle.”

She shrugged uncomfortably. “I’ll think about it.” She preferred to have more freedom of movement, though it was true that when they ran into trouble, it meant it was usually Boktar that took the brunt of the fight.

“Who is that fellow, anyway?” he asked. “This is the third time he’s shown up.”

“I don’t know his real name—he’s used so many. He’s the man my mother sends to do her dirty work.”

“You sure you don’t want to go back? Being a princess sounds like fun.”

“No, I’m not returning. Trust me, Terevas will be better off if I’m not around. Slightly better, anyway; it’s still a cesspool. I feel bad about throwing my sister to the vipers, but she can handle it better than I.”

Boktar nodded. “So, we’re really going to do this, then?”

“It’s taken us two years to translate the book after that librarian disappeared. I’m not going to stop now. Besides, I want to get out of Matagor. It’s too close to home.”

“You still think the librarian went after the treasure himself? He’d have a big head start.”

Ellerie shrugged. “Maybe. It depends on whether he was able to get more out of the book than we did. I never told him about the amulet.”

Their first translator had disappeared just as he’d claimed to be getting close to something, so Ellerie had changed the translation process to make it more cumbersome. She’d broken up the work across several different people and never told them what she was looking for. The book was large, with small print, and the project had taken longer than she’d expected. It hadn’t been helped by realizing—only after translating the entire book—that most of it was worthless. The delay could have been avoided if she’d just told the translators what to look for, but that’s how the problem with the librarian had started. The task was complete now, and she had the information she needed, but she was still frustrated by how long it had taken.

“So, if the amulet provides the starting point, then he’s just looking around blindly?” Boktar asked.

“He may have thought that’s all we had, and he may have had some guesses about the starting point that he didn’t share with us. Besides, we’ll be looking blindly, too. I haven’t been able to match the markings on the amulet to any recognizable mountain ranges yet.”

Boktar shook his head. “Then we’re going to spend the next year or two looking for mountains? Are you sure you don’t want to stick with bodyguard work? It’s good, steady pay, and you told me yourself, even if there was treasure once, it’s probably long gone.”

“If I have to break up one more fight between the duke’s daughters, I might forget I’m their bodyguard and kill them myself. I’ll pay you the same as the duke’s been paying you—the first time Mother sent her spy, she sent along a pouch of gold. I used that to pay the translators, so I still have some of my own pay.” The treasure wasn’t important to Ellerie, but she didn’t think Boktar would believe her if she told him that. She wanted to find whatever the book led to because, for once in her life, she wanted to accomplish something important. Of course, if there was any treasure, it would help ensure she never had to return to Terevas.

Boktar said, “How long is your money going to last, though, when we don’t know where we’re going?”

“We can take jobs along the way. Being a caravan guard doesn’t pay as much as the duke, but it’s something. I’ll make up the difference if you want.”

“No,” Boktar said. “If we’re going on this wild goose chase, let’s stretch your money out as far as we can.” He picked up his shield and patted the warhammer on his belt. “Come on, kid, let’s go tell the duke we’re leaving.”

“Kid?” she complained, following him. “I’m older than you.”

“I guess that’s a matter of interpretation.”