The Triad Gate

By Courtney Cantrell

For the first time in one volume, the complete story of Rethana Chosardal — bell-ringer, mischief-maker, magic-wielder.

 

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How far can a woman bend and not break?

 

Gifted with forbidden magic, Rethana Chosardal thought hiding for ten years in a remote southern bell tower meant she was safe. But when she makes one foolish, selfish choice, the vengeful clerics who murdered most of her family seize her — along with her only friends and her frail little sister.

 

Now Allasin, her chief captor, plots to use Rethana's magic for his own fiendish purposes. Desperate to free her sister and friends, Rethana needs an edge. But only Allasin can unlock the full power of her craft, and he won't teach her unless she submits to his arcane intrigues. When this cold, cruel adversary betrays hints of a warmer soul, Rethana finds herself falling under a wholly different kind of spell.

 

But new threats loom. Rethana's sister falls ill. The elusive, nomadic Soldan claim Rethana as their weapon for overthrowing her land's malicious sovereign. As civil war breaks out, the vicious Skardi Queen sweeps down from the icy north in a wave of insidious, ancient magic none can hope to fight.

 

Torn from the side of her dying sister, battered in the storms of strife, Rethana has no safe haven. Friends and lovers are out of reach, and two great monarchs set their sights on her. All alone in a hellish tempest of enemies and fears, Rethana must choose between her own ambitions and the final deed that will save her people…but cost her everything.

 

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AUTHOR'S PREFERRED TEN-YEAR ANNIVERSARY EDITION

Rethana's story first appeared over a decade ago in the novels Rethana's Surrender and Rethana's Trial. Now, for the first time, read this action-packed, epic fantasy as a single, newly-revised volume. Enjoy the "extras" inside: "Rethana's Tower," the short story that started it all; maps and genealogies; and more!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Faeddra Books
• Release date: Dec 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215654422

Courtney Cantrell

Courtney Cantrell is the author of epic fantasy series Legends of the Light-Walkers, paranormal fantasy series Demons of Saltmarch, sci-fi epic The Elevator, and oodles of short stories. She was born in Texas and grew up in Germany. At age 12, she penned her first novel, a one-page murder mystery. (The gardener did it.) By age 17, she had finished two full-length YA sci-fi novels. Three transatlantic moves, thirty years, and countless shenanigans later, Courtney writes full-time as a stay-at-home mom. As of 2023, she has survived the collapse of modern civilization and completed 16 novels and two short story collections in multiple genres. Courtney lives with her husband, their daughter, two cats, and an assortment of cross-cultural doohickeys. She blogs haphazardly at courtcan.com and connects with her adoring fans as @courtcan on Mastodon.

Book preview

1338 A.R.

(After the Return)

Chapter One

Rethana couldn’t help it. She stamped her foot. But Mother, it was just a childish prank! The words careened into the silence of her mother’s shock and crashed into the solid wall of her great-grandmother’s ire.

Aye, said Yalli, her voice age-hoarse but still strong. "And that’s the crux! A childish prank. You’re a woman of marrying age, Rethana. Does Family Chosardal not merit an obedient eldest daughter?"

’Neth above, this was going from bad to worse. Rethana stared at the floor, hoping Yalli would miss the shine of tears prickling her eyes. It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done it to gain attention or endanger her family. Those five smelly louts had deserved it! Yalli was accusing her of putting her own diversions ahead of Family Chosardal’s safety, and it simply wasn’t fair!

Our Family precepts have kept us alive these past ten years, Yalli grated on. Does that mean naught to you, girl?

Rethana’s head came up. Of course it does! She didn’t quite glare, but it was a near thing. I would never put us at risk!

"But you did. Half the nightwatch was at our door, and half the town might have seen that wrong light behind our windows!"

Rethana bit back a sigh, recalling the puddles she’d created from nothing—and, aye, the ghostly lavender flames. Playful, innocent intentions or no, her little demonstration had risked her family’s safety. She had no choice but to admit it.

To herself. Speak the confession aloud? Not on her life! Especially not as she suppressed a grin. Dav and Telfer had gone skidding head-over-hams, and Domy had shrieked like a fishwife. Never mind her own scrapes and bruises from stirring about in the dark of night. She had taught those ruffians to violate the sanctity of Saemnoth’s bell tower!

But her lingering satisfaction didn’t make up for the anger in Yalli’s eyes and the distant pain in Mother’s.

Rethana bit this inside of her mouth. Blood and sands, will I ever learn?

Now, Yalewan, came her mother’s soft voice, that is too harsh. You know Rethana would never harm any of us.

You coddle her, Iannarone. No wonder she rebels outright.

But Yalli’s voice had lost its hardness. Trust Mother to take the sting out of her own grandmother’s reprimand. Rethana ventured a peek from behind long, black hair at the two women who confronted her: one, thin and frail, bent over a stout cane and under the weight of more than four score and ten; the other, thin and frail not with age but with grief that had persisted for a decade. Both had the same clear blue eyes Rethana herself saw in the spotted looking glass every morning. She sighed deep down where no one could see. Two watchful mothers. Did she truly require that much shepherding?

She glanced at the small figure abiding in a corner patch of morning sunlight. Make that three watchful mothers. She could feel ten-year-old Chel’s dark-eyed stare and knew her sister was willing her to apologize. She bit her lip and took a deep breath.

"Yalli, Mother...I didn’t invite them into the tower. I was trying to chase them out."

Yalli cleared her throat, a doubtful noise. Be that as it may, miss, that doesn’t change the broken railing, the scorched stairs, the puddles on every step, and you halfway down the shaft in your nightclothes instead of ringing the Captain’s Bell for all you were worth. Rethana opened her mouth, but Yalli went on in a firmer tone. "This is no parley! You’ll take those histories out to the Tehvses, you’ll come straight home after—no dithering!—and you’ll stay at home at least until third Firme’stal. Of next month."

"But—of next—but, Mother— Rethana appealed to that kinder countenance. That’s more than three weeks!"

Iannarone’s gentle smile was maddening in its sympathy and its firmness. You won’t be bellringer’s daughter forever, Rethana. You’re a woman of twenty, and you must put these games behind you. Better you learn it now—better you learned it yesterday—and up here in the tower rather than down in Saemnoth, where an unlearned lesson could hurt you.

Looking into her mother’s sad, earnest face, Rethana couldn’t help but be honest. It wasn’t a game, Mother. Not this time. Yes, I wanted to frighten them for sneaking into Rocalnaret Qaslin, but this was no kitchen cookfire that got away from me. She clasped her hands, willing Iannarone to understand. "I used it as I willed. It did only what I wanted it to. I had it under complete control."

Still smiling, Iannarone reached out to brush Rethana’s cheek with gentle fingers. Yes, daughter. But when will you learn to control yourself?

With that, Mother turned and helped Yalli from the study, leaving Rethana open-mouthed and very still. She couldn’t even move when Chel detached herself from her square of yellow sunshine and wrapped Rethana’s hand in her small fingers.

Oh, Thani.

They don’t understand, Chel. Rethana blew out a frustrated breath. "I can restrain comori and make it do my bidding. Why won’t they see that?"

She recalled that moment last night in the darkened well of the tower, when she’d closed her eyes and opened her inner sight. Even in memory, the dimness of Rocalnaret Qaslin took on a purplish tinge as she called on her special skill. Her secret.

Comori. My birthright.

It’s so beautiful, Chella, she whispered. Every time, no less beautiful than the last. I wish you could see it.

Chel let go of Rethana’s fingers and tossed her own long hair out of her face, exposing the red crescent birthmark below her left ear. She crossed thin arms over her skinny chest. "I wish you wouldn’t upset Mother."

Rethana opened her eyes, grimacing. I know. But she doesn’t see that her caution’s born of fear, not faith. And so is Yalli’s superstition.

Chel broke into the wide, toothy smile Rethana wished would appear more often on her sister’s face, You know what I think is beautiful, Thani?

Goro Bersallir in a mud puddle?

"No, Chel emphasized in a wonderful, ten-year-old manner. The Aeddalin parchment. I think the Aeddalin parchment is beautiful."

You call sacrilege beautiful?

Chel rolled her eyes in a my-sister-is-a-moonraker look. "Aeddalin’s name, Thani."

Oh, let me tease you, Chella. You don’t have to be Yalli all of the time, you know.

Chel raised her chin and peered at Rethana down the length of her nose. Well, one of us has to be responsible.

Rethana clutched both hands to her stomach. A low blow! And from my own little sister!

But wistfulness gnawed at her belly. Always, their places seemed reversed—Chel the elder and Rethana herself the diminutive gadabout. When would Chel finally get to be nothing more than a little girl?

Chel was grinning. ‘I speak the truth and find therein my freedom,’ she said.

Where did you hear that?

Yalli says it betimes.

Hm. Their great-grandmother didn’t often quote Eame’nae firstwords. There were too many bitter memories associated with them. ’Neth above, if only Yalli would keep them all to herself! Chel had no memory of the Eame’nae clerics who ruled from E’Tan-elsa, capital city of Jiredd Stal. Rethana wanted it to stay that way.

She forced a smile onto her face and laughter into her voice. So you’re the responsible one, aye? And what happens when Mother starts at you the way she’s been at me?

What? What do you mean?

When she starts trying to marry you off to every moneypouch with boots who comes along—will you still be the dutiful one? Rethana giggled and poked a finger into her sister’s ribs. You’ll join my rebellion then?

Chel looked horrified. Mother doesn’t do that to you!

Ha! That’s what you know. Rethana crossed the study to the table beneath the open casement. Bending over the Aeddalin parchment, she blew on it. The ink was nearly dry. You didn’t hear her talking to Yalli when Praedit Stelk’s nephew came visiting from Lind Glen.

The praedit’s nephew? Chel frowned. But Thani, he smelled like cheese and old onions!

Aye, and belched all the way back down the tower. You see why Mother and I fought all that week. Rethana inclined her head toward Chel, making it a conspiracy. So what shall we do, little sister? I’m leaving for Tehvs homestead. Come with me. We’ll run away from all the smelly, belching praedit’s nephews and find us some dashing noblemen with stickybun empires and enough money to keep us in silks forever. Aye?

But Chel was pulling back. Sunlight from the window touched the girl’s face, but still a shadow darkened her features. Below her left ear, the crescent mark stood out like a welt. She bit her bottom lip. Her deep brown eyes looked almost black. I can’t, Thani.

"Cry you mercy, Chella, but...why?"

The question tore from her lips in a wail before Rethana could stop it. And mayhap she didn’t want to. Mayhap I am a moonraker...but how long can this go on? How long will Mother and Yalli allow it?

Chel stared at the plain boards beneath her feet. I don’t know.

Chella...you’ll have to leave the tower someday. The day will come when I’m...married...and Mother and Yalli won’t live forever.

Don’t say that!

We’ve talked of this, Chella. You have to accept that it will happen.

No!

And there they were switched again. Chel angry and petulant, Rethana herself too-serious and practical. You can’t be bellringer all by yourself, Chella.

I don’t care.

Rethana crossed her arms. You’ll care when Prefect Bersallir has the captain drag you out.

The girl still wouldn’t look up. You could stay.

Aye. But only if the moneypouch with boots agrees to live up here with us.

And if I give up comori forever for his sake. What man would take a witch for a wife?

Thrice-damned future husband she didn’t even want! Chel would never leave Rocalnaret Qaslin of her own accord—or even come farther than halfway down the staircase that spiraled to the base of the tower. The old quarrel made Rethana’s head hurt. Either she stayed up here forever, took a husband, and gave up comori...or Chel put aside her imagined terrors and came willingly into the real world.

She has to leave this tower. For both of us.

Please, Chel. We none of us can live this way.

But Chel only shook her head with terrible finality. As usual.

Rethana’s gaze fell upon her satchel, hanging from its peg behind the half-closed study door. Without thinking, she picked up the now-dry Aeddalin parchment, crossed the room, and took down the satchel. She slipped the dangerous document into it.

Behind her, Chel sucked in a noisy breath. Too grown-up for her age, too grown-up in her perceptions—and too quick to understand her elder sister’s intent.

I’m off to the Tehvs homestead, Rethana said. If you don’t want anyone to see the Aeddalin history, I suppose you’ll have to come, too.

"Thani, you can’t! Aeddalin wasn’t Named—we wrote her Called name—it would be terrible for folk to know!"

Aye, so it would, Rethana answered without turning. But you must understand, Chel. Sometimes, to prevent something from happening or to make something happen, you have to do things you don’t want to do. It’s scary sometimes. And sometimes it hurts. But it’s the only way you can make things happen that you know need to happen because that’s what’s right. Do you understand?

No! Chel’s light voice was a wail at Rethana’s back. I don’t understand you at all!

Rethana squeezed her eyes shut. This is horrible. What am I doing?

She remembered angry, suspicious townsfolk at the doors of the bell tower. She imagined the same folk, calmer but still aggrieved and impatient—dragging a weeping, terrified Chel out of those doors to make way for a new bellringer clan.

And the hideous, selfish part of her mind pictured a much older Rethana, back bent under years of bellringing and heart withered from decades of denying her birthright, denying her very core.

She couldn’t let all of life pass her by, not even for Chel. Could she?

Cry your pardon, Chella. Cry your pardon.

Slinging the satchel over her shoulder, Rethana left the study without a backward glance.

Chapter Two

The autumn evening’s growing chill cooled Rethana’s face and dried her sweat as she gained the top of the valley’s eastern wall. Thanks to her bell tower’s many steep stairs, the climb to the Tehvses’ homestead wasn’t tiring. But her calf muscles did tremble a little. She didn’t trek the steep, rocky Tehvs path very often these days.

She didn’t know she’d been smiling until the smile faded. She turned her mind to last night’s adventure, trying to recapture her amusement at snaring Dav Tehvs and his rowdy crew in their mischief—and paying them back with some of her own. Comori, her birthright, had ever been capricious...

...but last night was different.

Last night, she’d felt bold, confident in her skill. And comori had responded with a display of Water, Air, and Fire the like of which she’d never before managed.

And Dav had known. The way he’d turned at the end and looked back up into the tower after the others fled.... He knew who played them the trick.

Telfer Andres and the Luedken twins had always blamed peculiar incidents on the wind or on the spirits of the dead to spook each other. But over the last ten years, though Davoren Tehvs had never caught her using comori, enough oddities had occurred in Rethana’s presence to leave him suspicious. Last night, in the moonlight shining through the tower door, his toothy grin had left no doubt: he no longer suspected. He knew.

A tingle shot along her spine. She didn’t know if it was excitement or apprehension. Mayhap a mite of both.

As she reached the first trees at the edge of the forest, a gust of wind hurried past. She looked back at Saemnoth, nestled in its little bowl-shaped hollow here at the southernmost end of the Pangaedd Tirg valley. Rocalnaret Qaslin, her bell tower home, reached high above thatched roofs, a spire bathing in the afternoon sun. Gaps between houses revealed straggling vendors as they packed up the last of their unsold market wares and headed home. Where a branch of the river Balwadd burbled, a thin golden haze drifted through the west side of town.

Rethana allowed herself a tiny, sad smile. In this southwest corner of the land Jiredd Stal, all looked so peaceful: a stark contrast to the upheaval at home and the much-ignored churning in her stomach. Back the way she’d come, the steep path to the town lay empty.

’Neth weeps, she thought with no fervor at all.

Dithering, Mistress Chosardal?

She whirled with a yelp, her hand going to her throat. Where her dirt path meandered into the shadowy forest, a darker shadow waited amongst the first trees. It stirred but didn’t step forward. Her heart thudded.

And without yer shawl, the voice went on. Yalewan won’t be pleased with ye.

Her hand rose to her brow, and she closed her eyes. "Blood and blazing sands, Dav, don’t do that!"

He chuckled. Cry mercy, I didn’t mean to startle ye.

She put her hands on her hips. Prophet’s bleeding arm you didn’t. What are you doing in there?

He clucked his tongue in a fairly good imitation of her great-grandmother. Ye’ve spent too much time ’round garrison men that were, Rethana. Finally he stepped out of the trees to join her. Yer tongue needs bridling.

Well, you’re the former soldier in question, so you won’t be the one with the bridle.

He grinned, revealing an impish, crooked tooth in an otherwise perfect row. I wouldn’t dare. I went to market for Mam, heard ye on the path behind me, decided to wait.

What, you thought I’d be leery, going into Tir’odun alone?

Mayhap.

His grin didn’t fade, but something crept into his blue-gray eyes that wasn’t jesting. Did he really think her afraid? She’d been in and out of the forest half her life! She opened her mouth to vent her indignation—and with plenty of garrison invective—but he spoke first.

The prefect’s cat is a curious cat. What brings ye out here, anyhow?

She couldn’t help chuckling. The game of Prefect’s Cat had been going on since the day Kandrac Tehvs had brought his younger son to Rocalnaret Qaslin and introduced him to Family Chosardal, the new bellringers. Rethana couldn’t remember who’d started it, but she and Dav had bantered the prefect’s cat back and forth for the last ten years. Dav was especially good at inserting the poor creature into conversation when Rethana least expected it. And when he thought her ire might get the best of him.

Sighing, she let go—for now—his implication that she couldn’t take care of herself and indicated her satchel. Yalli’s histories. And—

Aye?

She grimaced, then glanced over her shoulder. Down in Saemnoth, the breeze kicked up dus as a scrawny dog strolled around the corner of the last house. No other movement between here and the town. Turning back to Dav, she screwed her eyes tight shut and pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand.

He cleared his throat. Ye look like a thief whose beak-hunt went skewed.

I tried to trick Chel into leaving the tower.

Silence. Rethana opened an eye, venturing a look at Dav. Blue-gray eyes were wide. He raised his eyebrows. Ye what now?

She opened both eyes. Well, it’s for her own good! She can’t stay up there forever, and she won’t listen to reason, and none of this would have happened but for Aeddalin and that marsh-mucking history—

Rethana, slow down—

"—and Yalli with her infernal stories, when what Chel needs is to be out in the real world, with real folk, instead of dead family members she didn’t even know—"

What are ye talking abou—

This! She thrust a hand into the satchel slung around her shoulders. Questing fingers met parchment and she pulled it out, shoving it beneath his nose. This Family Chosardal history. Look at it!

She waved it at him until he raised his hand and slowly took the parchment from her—while slanting her the kind of glance usually reserved for moon-talkers or innkeepers brandishing wooden spoons. He looked down at the offending document, looked back up at her, apparently decided she wasn’t going to beat him about the head with her satchel, then returned his attention to the list of Family Chosardal names and birthdates.

This says yer great-grandmother had a sister.

Rethana nodded, sighing.

Dav peered at her over the top edge of the parchment. "An elder sister."

Aye.

But Yalewan is eldest. The Family line passes through her, did ye not tell me so years ago?

She rubbed at her temples. Our line passed through Yalli, then through her daughter, even though Yalli’s the younger sister. Aeddalin was eldest...but Aeddalin died as a child.

Ah. Did ye know?

I’d never heard of Aeddalin ’til today. Rethana breathed out through clenched teeth. And neither had Chel, so sure enough she wanted to hear the story.

Dav only looked at her.

There’s naught to it, Dav! Yalli watched her sister drown in the Balwadd. Yalli remembers it, though she was little more than a babe. And Aeddalin....

Aye? he prompted when she lapsed into silence.

Rethana felt heat in her cheeks. Aeddalin wasn’t quite six years old.

Dav raised his face to the afternoon sky and gave a long, low whistle. ‘Dead before the Naming Day, always Called and never Named.’ No wonder yer family never spoke of her.

They’ve always believed what the clerics say.

Writing a Called name burdens the unNamed soul?

Dav snorted. What burdens the soul are Called names suited for merrifolk, if ye ask me.

"Aye, well, I’d proclaim that from Rocalnaret Qaslin if it wouldn’t land me in praedit’s penance. Her own Called name, Mellica, was one that six-year-old Rethana had gladly relinquished on her Naming Day. Dav had been Called ‘Segil’—not much better. She shook her head. Tradition binds my family as much as any other, in spite of what E’Tan-elsa did to us."

Then why did Yalewan let ye write her sister’s name in one of yer Family histories?

"Yalli told us her sister died before her Naming Day. And Chel started to cry over how Father died before her Naming Day." Remembering, Rethana swallowed hard. She’d wanted to cross the study and take her sister in her arms. But if she’d moved, she would’ve cried, too.

Rethana had done her mourning for their father, Roman, long ago, and the dull ache throbbed only on rare occasions. But she could remember playing with him, hearing him laugh, watching him tease Mother. Rethana could pull out those memories and look at them and be glad for her time with him...but Chel didn’t have those keepsakes. She never knew him, she finished aloud, but she still misses him.

So Yalli had ye write her sister’s name in the histories to take Chel’s mind off yer da?

Yes. But only this one copy. The documents for your Cousin Eb are all standard. No Called names, no long-lost sisters. No defiance of tradition. No blasphemy. And then Yalli told me to bring the histories to Cousin Eb this afternoon—he’s at the homestead, aye?—but she forbade me to stay for supper because of what happened last night—

"Och aye?" Dav’s eyes crinkled.

"—and then I bickered with Chel over how she refuses to leave the tower, and finally I threatened to show the Aeddalin parchment to Cousin Eb and the rest of your clan, and Chel said I wasn’t being fair." And I was too much of a coward to look her in the face. Mayhap she’s right...but she’s too frail to be bellringer herself, even when she’s grown. If she never leaves the tower of her own accord, someday the prefect will want a set of backs younger than Mother’s and mine. And what will happen to Chel then?

Dav was silent for a few moments. I can’t ken it, Rethana, he said then, his eyes worried. ’Tis a question for Prefect Bersallir, or mayhap for the praedit. But this.... He held out the Aeddalin parchment. Ye’d best tear it to pieces right here.

I know. Her voice trembled a little as she stuffed the blighted document back into her satchel. But I have to take it home to Chel, or she’ll think I really did give it to Cousin Eb.

Dav compressed his lips into a thin line and nodded. In empathy for Rethana’s self-made dilemma? Or did the look harbor disapproval as well?

She dropped her gaze, half-turning to peer back toward the path that led toward Saemnoth. Still no sign of Chel.

Blood and sands, Rethana. You’re a moonraker of the finest sort. Of course there was no sign of Chel. Why hadn’t she just let the girl be?

And let them drag her out by her hair when the time comes?

Or condemn myself to a life without the thing that makes me who I am?

Here she stood at the edge of the forest, venting her troubles to Dav, all while clinging to the monstrous, selfish hope that Chel would come running up the path all bright eyes and laughter...strong enough to thrive without Rethana’s care.

Thrice-damn it. Rethana couldn’t bear it another moment. She started forward, meaning to brush past Dav and on into Tir’odun, when he reached out a hand to stay her.

Rethana, wait. He ducked his head, running fingers through long, russet hair. She read chagrin in the twist of his lips. Ye should know Cousin Eb’s not the only one out to the homestead this eve.

His tone was gentle and calm, not as though he were horrified at what she’d done to her sister. She bit her bottom lip. Mayhap he doesn’t know if he’s vexed with me any more than I do. Oh?

Well...Mam and the girls salted the meat we brought back, and we’re feasting a bit tonight.

Ah. She forced a smile. It’d be a shame if you hunted for three weeks with nothing to show for it.

Aye. So ’twould.

Blood and sands, he was going to make her ask. She took a deep breath. Ingadia?

He wouldn’t look at her. Ingadia. Then, Ye know this isn’t as I’d have it, Rethana.

I know. She tried to insert cheeriness into her dull tone. Then we’d best be on, aye? The sooner they arrived, the sooner she could leave.

He fell into step beside her, and they entered Tir’odun. Rethana ground her teeth and fought not to think of Ingadia Bersallir. Until even a year ago, Rethana would have been the first to receive an invitation to this night’s feast. Until even a year ago, there’d have been no question in anyone’s mind that she should be included. But if Ingadia was there....

Well, that makes the prefect’s cat an unwanted cat.

That did it. She lost the fight. Besides, this was a perfect distraction from her misery over her blasted trick on Chel. "Really, Dav...Ingadia?"

They’d rounded the first bend in the path, following it into shadow. She couldn’t tell if his cheeks colored or not...but his voice gave a rather unmanly crack when he spoke. She’s a nice girl, Rethana.

There was that traveling nobleman from Elys Fie last year.

"That was a misunderstanding. Prefect Bersallir and Ingwen hosted a Halaferth guest, and Ingadia served. ’Twas naught more."

Oh, certainly naught more. When he didn’t reply, she couldn’t resist another jibe. But she’s a gossip, Dav.

He tripped over something that wasn’t there, then righted himself and turned his face aside. But she caught the guilty frown on his face and peered at him as they walked on. "Prophet’s bleeding arm. Dav, what? I’ll hear it sooner or later, so you might as well spit and make merry."

The light-hearted phrase did its work; he favored her with a crooked smile. Och aye, he muttered in his Tirg lilt, ’tis right ye are, I ought to tell ye straight out. Ingadia did bring news this afternoon....

And?

He cleared his throat. Well, Rethana, ye see...there’s some talk ’round town. I heard it myself in the market today, he added in a rush, absolving Ingadia of any blame.

Talk.

Aye. Talk...of yer busy time in the tower last night.

She balled up her fists at her sides. "And what might that mean?"

They’re asking how many of Captain dun Gharrem’s men had to turn out—twelve? Or mayhap twenty?

"What?"

Talk has it that fifteen of the captain’s soldiers had to drag ten men out of yer chamber, and the captain hauled one out of yer bed by the scruff of his neck.

She stopped in her tracks, spluttering. When she finally found words, they weren’t equal to her sudden fury. Blood and blazing—bleeding Proph—of all the—Davoren Tehvs, stop laughing!

He doubled over in the center of the path, bellowing guffaws at the dusty ground. She felt an urge to topple him. But anger sapped her strength. Now I know why those boys with the mopsybug wouldn’t stop staring at me in the market! And the carter, and the cloth vendor, and Praedit Stelk’s great-niece.... Naereth’s bloody blazing gates Dav, if you don’t stop laughing this instant—

’Tisn’t—he gasped between laughs—"’tisn’t as bad as all that. I only...heard that...from one vendor. The rest...thought ’twas merely four men...and said naught about yer bed—"

Well, at least they got the number right!

That set him off again. Rethana crossed her arms and glared, tapping her foot. When he finally straightened, his blue-gray eyes were shining at her above a grin so wide she hoped it would split at the corners. Are you quite finished? she growled.

Och aye, och aye. Still chuckling.

Really, Dav, why would you listen to talk like that? Where’s that Tehvs loyalty you always prate about?

Don’t ye doubt my friendship, Rethana. But yer face pays me even for the scare ye gave us in yon bell tower.

She gaped. So that’s—oh, you—!

Mayhap ye’ll think twice, next time ye want to use yer witchy ways ’gainst a Tehvs.

She delivered one final good glare, then stomped on down the path.

He caught up easily. I saved the best part for last.

I’m like to knock your crooked tooth straight, Davoren, so you’d as well to keep saving.

Nay, ye’ll approve this bit. Goro Bersallir got into a batch of pricklepeppers yestereve.

Rethana snorted before she could help it. You’re not saying....

Lost every hair on his head, all in one night.

The laugh tightened her belly, but she refused to give him the satisfaction. Ingadia must be livid.

Och aye, she’s not pleased. But she gets her giddies in a bunch too often over her brother, anyway.

Rethana hid a smile. In spite of being besotted with Ingadia, Dav had no liking for her spoiled, pampered younger brother. Goven and Ingwen Bersallir indulged the boy’s every fancy, even more so than his elder sister’s. Rethana wasn’t certain, but she suspected Dav’s aversion to the irritating child was a topic he and Ingadia avoided by mutual consent.

And how mutual will that be, Dav, if you wed her?

Rethana’s smile faded. At the same time, Dav spoke again. D’ye still think of Lhuk? No trace of amusement in his voice. Ye’ve said naught about him in a long time, nor offered prayers for him in the sanctuary—

I suppose my mother told you that. She meant the words to be sharp, but they came out dull and quiet instead. I don’t have to visit Praedit Thedd Stelk in order to pray for my own brother.

Och aye.

I don’t have to be in the sanctuary. I can just as well pray out here in Tir’odun.

His chuckle rumbled deep in his chest. Aye, I’d not gainsay it. But do ye?

’Neth’s kneecaps, why did Ingadia’s brother have to remind him of Rethana’s? Thrice-damn it. Lhuk was seven years my elder and I barely remember him. We were in Saemnoth a year and he just left. He’s dead. What need of praying for him?

Dav shrugged. Ye never speak of him. Mayhap ’twould do ye good to pray for him to Qaslaneth.

And did ’Neth above keep my brother in Saemnoth? No. This time her voice was harsh enough to satisfy. Besides, Chel petitions blessing on the whole family—even Lhuk—every Hethirm. Weekly prayers should do even Qaslaneth, even from the top of the tower.

Unwilling to descend the tower stair and cross the street to the crumbling sanctuary, Chel still took every experience, every tenet, every conversation and found in it all her guiding wisdom. Rethana felt a sudden, deep ache in her chest. Blood and sands, where was her own beacon?

Where is my faith?

Thankfully, Dav interrupted this thought. Prophet’s arm, Rethana, ’tis well I’m not one to take offense. Half the town’d be screaming for yer noose to hear ye speak so.

But I have the Tehvs loyalty to count on, aye? So I’ll not worry overmuch about blasphemy.

He shook his head at her bitterness but fell silent. Rethana walked at his side, feeling twitchy. Why did matters of faith have to be so complicated and uncomfortable? Looking up, she saw the branches of trees straining toward the sky, meeting high above her head in elegant arches reminiscent of the sanctuary’s high stone ceiling.

She swallowed dull disappointment—resentment had long since faded—then shrugged the strap of her satchel higher up on her shoulder. Mayhap the praedit and Mother and Yalli were right, mayhap not. But if Qaslaneth could hear her from behind stone walls, surely he could hear out here, too, beneath the sky and surrounded by nothing but his creation. If she were going to pray anywhere, it might as well be here.

If you’re there, watch over my brother Lhuk. Wherever he is.

The scrape of her own lagging footsteps and Dav’s soft hunter’s tread were her only answer. She felt the red creep into her cheeks. Talking to Qaslaneth in the middle of the forest. Only headstrong and irreverent Rethana Chosardal would think of such a thing. Moonraker. Ignorant, blasphemous moonraker.

Ah, well. She’d tried. At least now she could tell Mother that she had prayed recently, and she’d hope Iannarone would forget to question Praedit Stelk over it.

She quickened her pace and caught up to Dav as the last bend in the path delivered them into the modest, grassy yard of the Tehvs homestead. Chickens squawked and scattered, feathers flying. Half a dozen grunters wallowed and squealed in a muddy enclosure, brawling over their supper of table scraps. A few grazing woolies, their wide jaws methodical and slow, heaved themselves out of the way as the humans approached. The pungent aroma of farm animal tickled Rethana’s nose, and she sneezed.  

Like a gaffer’s pipe, the chimney of the thatched, rough-planked house puffed merry smoke, sure sign of a Tehvs feast: a roaring fire, plenty of food and drink, lots of talk and teasing. In the past, there would also have been demands that Rethana stay late into the night. But with Ingadia Bersallir present, Rethana likely wouldn’t be welcome long.

Especially since rumor of my indiscretions slithered all the way out here on her tongue!

Dav took a deep breath as they stepped up onto the wooden porch. Ahh, smell that! The cooking’s near finished. Are ye hungry, Rethana? Before she could speak, her growling stomach answered for her, and he laughed. Ye sound like a Plains cat yerself.

Plains cat! Is that what’s roasting? At his satisfied nod, she put her hands on her hips. Davoren Tehvs, you know better than to go after something that big!

Och aye, ye know there’s no better archers in Saemnoth than the Luedken twins. Telfer took the longknife prize last Inasfirm Festival, and I’m not such a skipper myself.

She kept glaring. That’s as may be, but shooting haystacks and sparring dun Gharrem’s second are different from taking down a cat.

He grinned. But the prefect’s cat is an easy cat.

That is not the kind of cat I’m talking about!

He sighed in mock impatience. Are ye ready to go in, then, Mistress Busybody?

She glared some more, but he only raked a hand through his hair and chuckled.

Fine, she said, brushing wisps of her own hair out of her face. What with all the quarreling, she hadn’t much considered her appearance before fleeing the tower. I should’ve at least done my hair up instead of just braiding it. ’Neth be thanked, she was in a dress—plain, dark wool though it was—instead of bellringer’s trousers. She wrinkled her nose. Ingadia was sure to be flawless. Are you going to open the door for me, or has a day off the Plains not taught you your manners again?

Dav opened his mouth to reply.

From beyond the door came a high-pitched shriek.

Chapter Three

Her heart stuttered . The scream came again. Was it pain? Anger? Fear? And from inside the house—

She looked to Dav—and her mouth dropped open as his blue-gray eyes creased in a smile. Dav, what—

This time, a sound from inside interrupted her. But this was no shriek.

Laughter? What’s—

He held a shushing finger to his lips. Wait.

More laughter, then the sound of feet approaching the door. Someone flung it wide, and suddenly Rethana was facing a golden-haired, emerald-eyed woman she’d never seen before. Two small children buried their fists in the woman’s long skirts. The stranger smiled. But before anyone spoke, merry little Hinwil Tehvs stepped up to the doorway.

Ah, Rethana! So good of ye to come, dear girl. Where did ye find her, Dav? Did ye find the halfspice I wanted? Come in, come in! Stand away from the door, babbies, let them in. There ye are, Rethana, come in, there’s a girl. Mind the small feet, Dav.

As Rethana crossed the threshold, a massive figure darted out of the shadows behind the door. She couldn’t even squeak before large hands grabbed her around the waist and swung her in several stomach-lurching circles. When the room stopped spinning and she stood breathless yet safe on solid ground again, she stepped back from her assailant and found herself staring up into the broad face of—

Keioth! What are you doing here?

Dav’s elder brother boomed a laugh at the rough-beamed ceiling. I might ask you the same, Rethana! I lived here once, aye? But you don’t, as I recall. Unless something’s changed since I’ve been gone? Grinning from one huge ear to the other, he gave Dav a pointed look.

Rethana froze wide-eyed. Prophet’s bleeding, blazing arm, no one’s told him! And for him to say it in front of Dav, and their mother, and the strange woman, and—

Her eyes flicked past Keioth’s bulk. Sure enough, farther into the long room there was a head of creamy gold and a set of bright, sky-blue eyes below lowered eyebrows...and red splotches of fury on smooth cheeks. Mucking grace, somebody should have warned Dav’s brother not to jest like that where Ingadia could hear!

But the uncomfortable silence was so brief it might not have existed. Now, Keioth, ye leave the girl alone, Hinwil said. Not everyone is in such a hurry to wed as ye were. Stelcy! Dav’s mother beckoned with one hand to the green-eyed stranger. Come meet Rethana. She’s of our town’s bellringer clan. Ye’ve a few icy marvels of yer own in the Northern Reaches, but ye’d gawk and stare at our own Rocalnaret Qaslin, I’ll set my pace and pledge by ’t. Ye might meet Rethana’s mother while ye’re here. Wonderful woman, Iannarone—she’ll tell ye every scrap of tale there is to tell about yon tower. And how’s yer great-grandmother getting on, Rethana?

Rethana’s breath came easier as Hinwil’s pleasant chatter flowed over her. Thank ’Neth and all his servant c’eltheir, Dav’s mother could talk the tension out of a praedit’s harp strings. Yalli’s tough as always, and busy. She’s had news from her friends in Aset Qaen, so I’ve had histories to copy for Cousin Eb. Rethana lifted her satchel for emphasis.

Keioth grinned. Ice and snowcrusts! Time enough later for dry, dusty pages! He put an arm around the green-eyed woman. My wife, Stelcy! And—with no effort at all, he hefted a child on each arm—the little ones. Our girl, Reina, and little Neff.

Tow-headed Neff crossed his arms. Not li’l.

With one arm, Keioth tossed his son in the air and caught him again as easily. The little boy shrieked with delight—the same sound that had set Rethana’s heart to racing on the other side of the door. No, not little, Keioth agreed. A big hunter, like his father and Uncle Dav!

He lowered the children carefully to the floor. Big-eyed Reina tugged at Rethana’s sleeve. I’m going to have my Naming Day soon.  

Prophet’s arm. The talk of Aeddalin’s Naming Day echoed too loud in Rethana’s memory. Her satchel felt unnaturally heavy, as though the blasphemous document weighed as much as a stone from the bell tower wall. Aye, she said, hoping her smile didn’t look forced. I was thinking you were the age for it. But Keioth, have you truly been away for so long?

Aye, he has, said Hinwil with a decisive nod. And kept Stelcy and the babbies from us the whole time, the great lout.

Now, Mam, you know I had to wait until the babes were old enough to travel the distance.

Distance? asked Rethana.

Aye, said Keioth, from Mettlach. ’Tis a-way north, even farther than E’Tan-elsa. Stelcy’s folk are the children and grandchildren of Northern Reaches settlers. Adventurous types, y’know. He released his son to the floor, grinning at his wife.

I’d forgotten he’d left Pangaedd Tirg, Rethana thought. Mayhap she’d been farther from the Tehvs hearth for longer than she’d realized—

And my big oaf of a son, said Hinwil, isn’t adventurous enow to bring my grandbabbies to see me before they’re half grown.

Keioth gave his mother a lopsided hug. Aye, there’s the sharp tongue I’ve missed. Do I need to check Dav’s hide, Mam? See how many lashings he’s had since I’ve been away?

Och off with ye! Hinwil laughed and pushed at him. His huge frame didn’t budge. Rethana, come sit at the fire. Cousin Eb’ll be glad to get yer hist’ries, if yon lout Telfer hasn’t knocked the sense out of ’im with that fruit. Dav, where’s my halfspice? Ah, aye that’s the very packet, thank ye well, my dear. Oh, Stelcy, the roast!

Hinwil and Stelcy hurried to the roaring kitchen cookfire, where a full-grown Plains cat roasted on an enormous spit. The children scampered ahead, dodging heavy oak chairs and the hounds lounging beneath them. Rethana trailed the others. Keioth’s arrival made this a Tehvs clan reunion...and she had no place here. More than ever, she wanted this errand done and herself back in the tower. For once, Chel had the right of it by not leaving!

Beside the hearth at the far end of the long room, the Tehvs twins, Ayice and Abrie, were giggling with the Luedken twins, Dornan and Domiel. Nearby lounged Dav’s father, Kandrac. Each of the men clasped a tankard of lissben, dearest and most potent ale in the land.

Loutish Telfer Andres stood off to the side, juggling several pieces of limme-fruit. Despite her discomfort, Rethana bit her lip so she wouldn’t giggle. Together with the Luedkens, Telfer completed Dav’s quartet of bell tower mischief-makers from the previous night—and unlike the others, Telfer hadn’t escaped unscathed. His eyebrows were gone, and the shock of sandy hair usually falling over his forehead was missing. It would seem her comori Fire had gotten a bit close!

Telfer glanced up as she approached. His agile fingers missed a limme, which went bouncing off the head of Ebryart Tehvs. Old Cousin Eb gave a loud cry. his wife, Brensal, chuckled and rubbed the offended spot on his head.

Catching sight of Rethana, several of the company waved and called welcomes. Dav made straight for Ingadia and bent to murmur into her ear. Then, over Ingadia’s golden head, he caught Rethana’s eye. His glance flickered over to Telfer and back; a grin teased at the corners of his mouth. She looked away, knowing better than to share a knowing moment in Ingadia’s presence. Especially after Keioth’s remark.

The daughter of Prefect Bersallir glowed. Firelight softened her shining complexity of tiny braids and honey-and-cream curls. Long legs covered to the demure ankle by an embroidered crimson dress, Ingadia reclined on Hinwil’s hearth lounge and gazed up at Dav with adoring blue eyes. Dimpling, she smiled at his murmured greeting and twirled a lock of golden hair around one finger. Her gaze drifted to Rethana, her smile widening as she nodded.

Rethana nodded back—fully aware that Ingadia was seething inside. Davoren Tehvs was Ingadia Bersallir’s territory. Even Dav’s good friend Rethana wasn’t allowed too close.... And I’m not even a rival!

Again, she wondered what he could possibly be thinking. What was Ingadia thinking, attaching herself to a homesteader’s second son? Not that his being second son mattered—but why did Ingadia want him, when she could have any man from one of Saemnoth’s wealthier families?

Does he even know that she looks at him like she’s a a Plains cat on the prowl? Taking a seat beside Ebryart, Rethana fussed than necessary over her own thick wool skirts. If Dav’s too moonstruck to see what she’s doing, then he deserves her claws in him. So there!

Rethana Chosardal! Cousin Eb squinted at her with childlike glee. I suppose you’ve brought me histories. Is Yalewan well these days? I’ve found nothing more on Laraen Chosardal’s parents, only the names I gave Yalewan last month. Ellaain and Marcen. But I’ve been studying some of the old documents stored at the sanctuary, and I found a hint or two on Roddif’s line....

Still talking, Eb reached for the documents Rethana wrestled from her satchel. She’d almost released them—when shock took her breath. With a hasty, murmured apology, she tore the histories from Eb’s hands and thumbed through them. Fingers trembling, she slid the Aeddalin parchment out from between the others, folded it, and shoved it into the pocket of her skirt.

The old man scratched his chin. Eh? What was that?

Oh, naught! A drawing of Chel’s. She didn’t want anyone to see it. That last was true enough. If Ebryart read the Aeddalin history, he was sure to remark about it in front of the whole company. Not that she herself cared about the taboo...but if others glimpsed this document recording an unNamed child, Rethana’s family would be mortified.

She thrust the safe copies into Cousin Eb’s eager hands and pointed out to him where her handwriting had improved and how she was being more creative with the flourishes and curlicues on capitals. A few moments later, Eb was well distracted, murmuring an indepth recitation of the ancestry of Roddif Ylnoe, Yalli’s grandfather.

Rethana had heard it all many times before, so her attention wandered. Hinwil and Stelcy were slicing juicy slabs of meat from the roast. In a corner, Ayice Tehvs whispered with Domy Luedken. On the hearth, Dav plunged into deep council with Keioth and their father Kandrac, while Dornan Luedken hovered on the edge of the conversation. Ingadia had moved to Dav’s feet and was watching him with wide eyes. Eb’s recitation faded into the background as Rethana homed in on Dav’s voice.

—surprised ye didn’t come across them farther north, he was saying to Keioth. We never saw even one, but signs of their passage were all over the Plains.

The Soldan have their ways, their father Kandrac said. If you saw sign of them, you can be sure they were there, and close enough to smell you.

Dav chuckled. With our stink, they wouldn’t have needed to be very close. Rethana couldn’t have agreed more, but she hid her grin as the others joined in the laughter.

Only Keioth didn’t smile. What signs did you see?

Dav shrugged, running a hand through his russet hair. Naught out of the ordinary. Markings on rocks and trees, old firepits. A shard of broken sword.

And tracks, added Dornan, startin’ out in the middle o’ nowhere and stoppin’ after ten or so paces. ’Twould raise yer hackles right enow, seein’ how those tracks just stopped, like the people just disappeared into nothin’.

Dornan’s accent was much like Hinwil’s, though they weren’t related. The Luedkens had inherited their musical lilt from their great-great-grandmother Ursalan, whom Ebryart Tehvs called Grand Dame Luedken. But where Hinwil’s speech was warm and comfortable, Dornan’s bass rumble suddenly sent chills across the base of Rethana’s spine. She shivered.

We’ve not seen burnings, Keioth said. And betimes, you think the marks on the trees’re but children playing games...but I’ve heard men speak of tracks where no tracks should be. Saw ’em myself, betimes.

How far from here? Kandrac asked.

Dav’s brother blew a breath through pursed lips. We came down into Pangaedd Tirg just south of Terllach Falls. No unusual signs in the valley. But northeast of E’Tan-elsa....

Go on, Kandrac prompted.

Keioth ran his hand through his hair, a habit he and Dav shared. Well, Da...there’s something else. Stelcy and I, we’ve been wanting to come south for some time, let the babes meet their Tehvs kin...but it’s not the only reason we’ve come.

Och aye? said Hinwil, passing by their little group with an armful of round, wooden plates. Lettin’ yer poor parents see their grandbabbies wun’t enow for ye?

Keioth grinned and made a grab at his mother. And yer no’ gonna let me forget it, are ye?

Hinwil evaded his grasp and set her stack of plates on the long table. And a moonraker have I fer an eldest! She flapped a kitchen rag at him on her way back to the kitchen.

What else, Keioth? Kandrac asked.

His son’s expression darkened again. Well, that’s it. I don’t rightly know. ’Twas more of a feeling, really. Strange talk ’round Mettlach, where Stelcy’s folk have their homestead. Rethana smiled, hearing Saemnoth creep back into the big man’s speech. He’d lost the warm lilt, it seemed, up in the cold north.

And we started seeing more and more travelers in from farther north, he went on. Barely a word they’d say—just bought their supplies, drank their ale, then made south quick as they could. Keioth shook his head. "I spoke to one of them once, a big man. Even bigger’n you, Da—like to take on a pack of Plains cats with his bare hands. But his eyes were sunken and his cheeks hollow, and he walked kind of hunched over. Like he was waiting for a blow from behind. ‘Shadow’s falling on the north,’ he said, ‘and coming from east of the Reaches.’ He said we’d best go south before it’s too late. I asked how far south, and he said, ‘Start walking and don’t stop.’ I thought he was the moonraker then, and I sorta forgot about him for a while. But then...." Keioth shifted in his seat, frowning.

Dav leaned forward. Then what?

"Well...then the Northerners stopped coming. We didn’t think much of it at first. It just seemed whatever spooked them went away, and they stopped coming. But next thing, our folk started disappearing. Hunters, mainly, and not just one by one. Whole parties went out and never came back. We tracked them at first, followed their trails for miles into the Reaches. Betimes we’d find marks of a scuffle. But the only tracks were the ones leading to the fight, none that led away. It looked like they were moving along, stopped to fight each other, and then disappeared into nothing. I was of a mind to ignore it, strange as it was. But then some homesteaders ’round Mettlach went missing."

He stopped for a moment, and Kandrac peered at him. You’re sure they didn’t just up and leave? Mayhap taking a Northerner’s advice and going south?

Keioth shook his head again. Nay, they didn’t leave. If ’twere just one clan, I’d’ve said the same. But five or six families, all in one night? Leaving behind all their belongings, even travel gear—and supper on the table? Nay, Da, they went missing all right.

He paused. In the silence, someone swallowed. The sound made Rethana’s skin crawl.

Keioth went on in a low voice. And all of them to the northeast of Mettlach. I started to thinking again about that big Northerner with his haunted eyes. Finally, I went to the Mettlach tavern one night. One of Stelcy’s kin was there, telling how he saw strangers in the woods. Not Northerners like the ones we knew, but odd folk with cloaks and strange armor and a tongue he’d never heard before. Said he heard screaming and crying, people begging for help. He thought that was the missing homesteaders. ’Twas enough for me. Stelcy and I packed up the babes and started making south just a few days later.

Dav met their father’s frowning gaze. That doesn’t sound like the Soldan, Da. If they attack, they do it outright. They don’t make folk disappear.

Kandrac grimaced. And there’s another thing. Keioth, you say the Northerners have been making south. How long?

The big man shrugged. Nine, ten months. Mayhap a year. Could be longer. Some of ’em didn’t stop in at Mettlach at all, so I can’t be certain.

A year... Kandrac shook his head. If they started coming south that far back...

...then why haven’t we seen any of ’em come through here? Dornan Luedken finished. Or at least heard rumor of ’em in the Tirg?

Telfer’s voice didn’t quite tremble. What happened to them between Mettlach and Saemnoth?

Chills crossed the base of Rethana’s spine again.

The Soldan— Dav began, but Keioth turned to him before he could go on.

’Twasn’t the Plainsfolk, brother. I know ’t for a fact. Ye’re right, they don’t make folk disappear. And they stay south. I’ve never heard of a Soldan going any farther north than Merloca Lake, and that’s no farther north than Saemnoth.

We spent some days around Yl’aedd Falls this trip, Dav said. From the signs, it looked like they’ve been moving north for quite some time.

But that wouldn’t explain how they could come at Mettlach from the northeast, Keioth said. They’d have to go a-way east through the mountains first, then farther north than anyone’s ever been. But the Soldan don’t venture into the Ried’e Duinada mountains. They hold those peaks sacred and stay on the Plains.

Mayhap the danger came from Halaferth, put in Telfer. If their troops went a-way north, then marched on Mettlach from the northeast?

Kandrac shook his head. Tharian’s ruled Halaferth since I was a sprout. And his capital Elys Fie’s been at peace with E’Tan-elsa for three hundred years. Trade’s good, and Tharian’s not a greedy man. He’d have no cause to march on our Jiredd Stal, even if he only raided border towns like Mettlach.

Or Saemnoth, Rethana thought with another shiver.

We stopped off at Enloë Vale during our hunt, said Dav quietly. No Plainsfolk sign that far south.

Kandrac rumbled deep in his chest. Keioth gave a low whistle. Rethana felt her mouth drop open. Enloë Vale! How could they go so far east? Hinwil banged kitchen utensils against each other, making an overabundance of irritated clatter. Dav’ll be in for a tongue-lashing, Rethana thought. I’ll set my pace and pledge by it!

Ingadia gave a little gasp as she curled pale, elegant fingers around Dav’s. But, Davoren, that’s so far! Her voice was full of girlish concern and admiration, and she all but fluttered her eyelashes. Dav grinned, not seeming to mind the attention at all.

Rethana thought she might sick up.

Ye needn’t worry over that lummox, Dornan said. We rafted down the river all the way from Yl’aedd to the Vale, took in the view of Lelangeni’s towerin’ peak, then caught some horses for the journey back. Naught to ’t.

Kandrac nodded at his wayward younger son. Dav, you and I’ll go into town on the morrow, speak to the prefect and drop by the garrison. Dornan, you come, too. Whatever’s stirring up north, if Soldan are on the move, Captain dun Gharrem needs to know.

Talk turned to the hunting trip. Ayice and Abrie teased Telfer about his missing eyebrows, so he regaled the company with a grand tale about a wild dog and an encounter with the campfire. Over Ingadia’s head, Dav caught Rethana’s eye again, and she was sure he winked. But then Cousin Eb claimed her attention for one more perusal of her handiwork. By the time she glanced at Dav again, he was laughing at Telfer’s story along with the others.

When she made her good-byes a few minutes later, Hinwil and Stelcy implored her to stay for their evening meal. Reina and little Neff, who apparently missed nothing, begged for stories about life in a bell tower. But Rethana had already stayed too long—and Ingadia wouldn’t thank her for a lengthier intrusion. As Dav’s sister Abrie opened the front door for her, warm orangey light and the length of shadows outside declared the day nearly done. Yalli’s going to give me blazes, fresh history stock or no.

I’ll come back soon, she told the children, and I’ll tell you as many tower tales as you wish. You will be staying a while, won’t you? she asked Stelcy.

Emerald eyes wide, the northern woman spoke in a soft, slurry accent. I don’t know you, but still I won’t put on a brave front. Keioth and I are frightened. Things are being done in the Northern Reaches that shouldn’t be. He hasn’t said all he knows, not even to me. She gave Hinwil an apologetic glance. Yes, we’ll stay a while, but not long. We’ll keep moving south ’til we stop feeling scared. ’Til we start feeling safe.

Hinwil’s brow wrinkled, and Rethana recognized worry, not frustration over losing her grandchildren again so soon. Folk talk, she said. There are others in Saemnoth who’ve seen strange things on th’ Irelae Plains of late. I’ll not say we’ll want to abandon our home...but neither will I say we won’t follow ye south soon enow.

Rethana stared. But Hinwil, you can’t go! Saemnoth couldn’t do without the Tehvs clan!

Dav’s mother laughed, banishing the eerie moment. Aye, Rethana, ye’ve the right of it. She leaned in so only Rethana, Stelcy, and Abrie could hear. Don’t let on I said so, but I think Goven Bersallir wouldn’t know one end o’ this town from the other wi’out Kandrac to lean on now and again.

Rethana grinned. "I think you’re right...but don’t you let on that I said so!"

Hinwil nodded. Aye, ye’ve already enough troubles with that one, eh? And her discreet glance left no doubt of whom she meant.

Her face red-hot—was this evening to be only one embarrassment after another?—Rethana said a last, hasty good-bye and slipped through the door. Abrie stuck her head outside.

Brrr, ’tis chilly! The younger girl grinned. Don’t fash yerself. Ayice won’t let any of us leave ’til she’s got Domy Luedken wrapped up tight in her apron strings. Da says she’s still too young, but we’ll be seventeen soon. ’Tis older than Mam was when he married her. Of course, and her tone took on a sly note, Dav wouldn’t let us leave yet, either.

Aye?

He’s fair near to making up his own mind, if ye ken my meaning.

Backing down the porch steps, Rethana hoped the evening shadows hid what she feared was in her face. Aye, I think I do. Good night, Abrie.

’Night, Rethana. The other girl closed the door. Rethana wondered how in blazes the Tehvs clan could ever consider Ingadia Bersallir a good match for their son and brother.

On the other hand, Dav wasn’t the eldest. Keioth was the son expected to marry reasonably, and by all evidence he had done so. Mayhap Stelcy’s adventuresome folk weren’t wealthy, but she seemed the kind that didn’t shy from any challenges caring for her clan. Since Keioth had stayed away for so long and talked of forsaking Saemnoth permanently, mayhap Hinwil and Kandrac were encouraging Dav to choose a bride whose clan was well-off. Rethana couldn’t imagine pampered Ingadia on a homestead, beholden to the clerics of E’Tan-elsa until Kandrac’s death...but stranger and more disastrous things had happened.

As she made for the twisty, wooded path, she heard the oak door swing open again, then slam shut. Fast footsteps approached from behind. Rethana, wait!

She only half-turned. Dav, I have to go. Yalli’s already going to give me a tongue-lashing.

I know, he said with an easy grin. That’s why I’m walking ye back to town.

No, you’re not.

Och aye, I am.

No. You’re not.

He folded his arms. See, Rethana, I know ye heard us talking. We’re too close to the Plains out here in Tir’odun. ’Tisn’t safe for ye to be walking back alone in the dark.

She knew all too well the firm look in those blue-grey eyes. The fiercest gale when he was angry, right now they reminded her of clouds gathered on the horizon before the storm broke. Abrie’s twin, Ayice, wasn’t the only Tehvs with a resilient will.

But Chosardals get their way, too. "I can take care of myself, Davoren. Or