16. Beneath the Silver Moon

I rushed to the dragon's side and reached a hand toward the plates beneath its shoulder, but it batted me away with a casual gesture. I fell three paces away and the monster rolled a baleful eye at me. I am not, it said in quiet contempt, a horse.

I climbed back to my feet, scowling across at the beast, then a thunder of flame and fury flashed by overhead. It was a ruby-red dragon, barely half the size of Vechernyvetr, but it was still terrifying. I flinched closer to the shade of the stone wall. I heard a shouted order in the direction it had flown and saw a volley of crossbow bolts slash up toward the dragon on the wing. I nodded toward it.

"They will fire on us, too," I thought. "It could mean my life if I'm hanging in your clutches again this time."

For a while the dragon said nothing. Then it rolled its massive eye, dropped one shoulder low to the ground, and snorted at me. I rushed to find a place at the base of the dragon's neck, hooking my ankles around spines on its collarbone and gripping tight to the armored hide. Before I'd fully caught my grip, the dragon sprang without warning. As we rose into the air, I saw the formation of the king's guard that had fired on the red. They spotted us, too, and a dozen crossbows snapped up in our direction.

"Vech!" I screamed, but the dragon was already moving. It banked away, tail slashing out behind us, and flapped its great wings twice to fling us high, high into the air. I heard the order barked again, but even the bolts of the Guard's heavy crossbows couldn't drag us from the sky. If any found the dragon's armored hide, the animal gave no indication. It certainly did not slow.

Which way? the dragon asked, but for a moment I said nothing. I lost my breath, staring down upon the city of Tirah from high above. Half a dozen dragons swarmed above it, flashing in and out like hummingbirds, hovering in place to rain down fire.

The city itself seemed mostly untouched. Houses, shops, and squares stretched out for miles around the replica palace, and though there was plenty of panic I didn't see a single fire among them. The dragons focused most of their attention on the palace, where soldiers rushed like ants. And farther out, outside the city's walls, the king's army washed out to the horizon in all directions. It was a camp like Lareth's, but cast across the earth as far as the eye could see. Ten thousand men. Or more.

Vechernyvetr's brothers fell among them like living chaos. I felt cold.

The dragon's voice intruded on my mind again. Which way, little man? If you don't tell me soon I'm going back to kill the king.

"They'll kill him anyway, won't they?" I asked.

Perhaps, it said, but it didn't sound convinced. They're younger wyrms and have no plan to work together. They'll have their fun, they'll spill some blood, but they will not do as I could have done. I could hear the beast's regret at the missed opportunity.

"South," I thought, then tried to form an image in my head. "Toward the wizard's camp. You said you'd seen their stain—"

Of course, the dragon said. It banked again, rolling on the wind, and I felt the dragon's thrill wash through to me. I embraced it, looking out over the sleeping world, and strained my eyes as the dragon bent its path south.

Are they prepared for me? it asked. Will they expect a dragon?

I laughed at that. "Never," I thought. "This land has barely seen a dragon in three thousand years."

The dragon's answer came slow and thoughtful. It has not been quite so long as that.

"Even so, they wouldn't expect this. Not a planned assault. I was in their camp four hours ago, and they were half asleep."

These are warriors?

"Bandits, really, organized by a local lord. The worst among them is the wizard—"

I fear no wizard, the dragon said.

I laughed. It had a hint of darkness to it and just a touch of madness. "I look forward to seeing what you can do with this one. But first...." I thought about what I'd seen in Tirah, the ordered camp beset by raging dragons, the city all in panicked disarray. "But first, let's take his power. Scatter all his men. They're rabble and it must have been quite a feat to gather them." I nodded to myself, seeing a real solution. "If we can put them in flight, it will take months to build that threat again. Time enough for the king to end it."

The dragon weighed the plan for a moment. Then I saw its giant head dip in a little nod. You ask a fair favor of me, Daven. I will serve you in this.

Far below me, the earth spread out like a map. I strained my eyes to see, but even by the light of moon and stars I caught only the barest impression of the land. After some time the dragon dropped lower, and I saw that it was following the twisting path of a river. I knew it—the same wide, slow river that I'd forded while following the rebels. Here, though, it cut a deep, straight path through harder rocky earth. It slashed south beside a hard-packed road and led toward the distant glow of a town.

And campfires like a starry constellation. I swallowed and felt the anticipation building in the dragon's heart. I shut my eyes and caught my breath then stared ahead at tents arrayed in scattered clusters entirely unlike the neatly ordered rows outside Tirah.

My stomach surged up into my throat when the dragon suddenly dove. A burst of my own terror broke through the dragon's hungry euphoria and tore out of me in a scream. The dragon answered me with a scream of its own, that soul-deep bellow that had shaken me in the palace of Tirah. But now I felt it closer, wilder, burning in my blood with the dragon's hunger and its rage.

Then we were above the rebels' camp. We swept in from the northwest, far from Lareth's black tent, and I saw below me the tattered little tents of the footsoldiers. I saw the soldiers' faces, too, twisted with shock as they startled from their sleep. The dragon raked a claw at the earth, scattering a smaller camp, and I saw the weapons they had bent against the king, the cookpots full of food stolen from the nearby town. I saw men thrown dozens of paces across the earth, broken and bloodied. I saw their fear, and it tasted sweet in my lungs.

"Burn them down," I thought, and the dragon dropped its jaw. Fire fell like rain across the earth, washing out over the tents and sending rebels running for the hills. Not one among them defied us. Not one stood his ground or tarried even long enough to grab a weapon. They ran like wild hares before a fire.

I thrilled at it until the dragon dipped closer to the ground and snapped a running soldier up in its mighty jaws. The man screamed once before the dragon swallowed it in a gulp. My stomach rose up again, in twisting nausea this time, and I shook my head to shake away the memory. "Just scatter them," I thought. "Just chase them all away. We need not kill every one among them."

Violence and blood, the dragon thought, sharp with reprimand. That is the price of power. It flew on, though, and swooped down on another stretch of camp that it scattered with another gout of flame. It swept its tail along behind us, snaking back and forth along the ground and scattering tents and men like so much dust.

While the dragon raged around the wide circle, I searched ahead. I scanned the horizon for any sign of the wizard's tent, and as we drew closer I fell into my second sight instead. The beacon light of the green flame hung bright and clear over Isabelle's tent. Orienting off that I found the wizard's tent, too, broad and black a hundred paces on. I pointed uselessly, and tried to guess how I could drag the beast's attention to it.

I needn't have bothered. Chaos held the camp now, soldiers washing ahead of us in terrified waves like cockroaches, but as we drifted toward the wizard's tent he came out calm and ready. The rebels passed him in a panic, but the wizard merely turned his head in our direction and raised a hand.

I brought my arms up to shield my eyes a heartbeat before fire flared. A searing bolt of white-hot flame lanced up to strike the dragon on its breastbone, less than a pace below my hands, and I gasped against the heat of it. But I felt no echo of pain from the dragon. Instead it screamed a roar of rage that should have driven Lareth to the earth.

The wizard merely turned and raised his other arm. I felt Vechernyvetr gulping air to burn, but the wizard before us twisted his hand, stabbing it upward, and I saw a cloud of abandoned blades flash up into the air. Swords and knives hurled toward the dragon like stones from a sling. Even as that wall of steel flew up the wizard turned and threw another blast of flame that melted to nothing in the depths of the dragon's black power.

But a sharp-edged sword barely missed my ankle before it buried itself hilt-deep in the dragon's shoulder. The beast convulsed, and hammers of pain slammed against the back of my mind as a dozen other bits of sharp steel stabbed through its hide. The stricken dragon bucked in mid-air and flung me from my perch.

I had a moment's warning before I hit the ground. I landed hard, rolled, and tried to throw myself back to my feet. Instead I stumbled and sprawled. I raised my head and shielded my eyes against the light from a gout of dragon's flame. I wrenched up to my feet, stumbled, but stayed upright. I took one step toward the wizard, hoping to hit him while he was distracted, but the dragon was already gone, flown past. I could feel astonishment and agony through the bond in the back of my head. Lareth had done more to hurt the dragon than either of us had thought possible.

I felt a fury peel back my teeth as I rushed toward the wizard. I fell into my second sight as I ran and gathered living flame like riverstones. A dozen paces away I let fly a ball of blistering flame, aiming for his head, and threw another right behind. I gathered dragonfire too in angry ropy waves and flung it at the wizard.

But as I watched, the flame fell back. It washed away. The wizard turned to me and all the fire I threw unraveled like my tattered hems and fell to shreds. I screamed in rage and snatched a skinning knife abandoned at a fireside. Still in stride, I brought my arm back and threw for his heart.

The knife flew straight and true, but Lareth shook his head. He wore that same smile. He flicked a hand as though he were swatting a pesky insect, and the knife skittered past him. Then he swung at me, from five paces away, and a burst of will that looked like wind met me like a battering ram and sent me sprawling.

The air went out of me. Pain flashed when I tried to catch my breath, and white-slashed darkness pressed in on my vision. I put a hand down to climb to my feet, but I couldn't find the strength. I fell on my back with a groan.

"Vech...Vechernyvetr, where've you gone?" I cried. I could feel the dragon, not far off, but it was hurt. Hurt worse than it'd been when I found it by the farmer's pond.

I did not know.... it said and trailed off. I coughed a painful sob and tried again, and this time found at least my knees. I struggled up in time to see Lareth step up over me. He smiled, but there was murder in his eyes.

"You constantly surpass my every guess," the wizard said. "I've never even heard of aught like this. And still you fail." He shook his head and sighed. "And now you'll die."

"I've scattered your men," I said, and it came out a hiss. "I've broken you."

He laughed, deep and low. "You've barely scratched my skin," he said. "There's men enough who'll want what I can give. There's time enough to find another force. There's nothing really changed, except for you. You might have been a handy one, but I'll be safer with you dead."

I growled and reached for the threads of the campfire at my hand, but he frowned, he whispered, and that same agony exploded in my head. He nodded slowly, eyes stretched wide. "I am the end of war," he said. "Why can't you see? You will before you die. Not kings, not sorcery or steel can lay me low. Not dragons on the wing. Not living fire." He grinned, and there was madness in his eyes. "You should have killed the king or never have come back."

His eyes narrowed then, and he leaned closer. "Why did you come?" he said. "You have no love for death, I know that much. You'd barely come to wreak your wrath for the touch of pain I shared with you." And then his eyes snapped up, above me, to the tent. To Isabelle. "Aha!" he said, and I felt a stab of fury and terror.

"I came for you!" I shouted, hoping to draw his attention away from the girl.

He ignored me. "I can unfold the knot at will, you know," he said. "Another trick I could have taught to you. I'll burn the girl to ash for what you've done." He raised a hand toward the tent.

I threw myself at him. I lunged from near the ground and hit his knees with my left shoulder. He tripped and fell away, but as he went he cried. It wasn't a sound of fear or anger but of command. Even as he hit the ground his will lashed out at me like cruel whips. I ignored them, swinging fists in my fury, but he caught my arms in shackles made of air and crushed them to my sides.

I growled and without thinking reached out with my second sight again. It worked, somehow. The working he'd used to bind my arms must have robbed him of the will to bind my mind. I grabbed the fire's flame and threw it at his face. He screamed. He stumbled back. He wrenched the bonds that held my hands and swung one at my face, a phantom punch that sent me sprawling, but a heartbeat later he had to let them go to fight away the flames.

I pressed the essence of fire harder, hotter, while I struggled to my feet. I burned the sparkle from his eye and the smile from his mouth. The air reeked of burning flesh and rattled with his scream. He waved a slashing hand, and my mind exploded once again. 

I fell to my knees beneath the pain, and the flame dissolved. It left behind a face half seared to black, pitted and cracked, smoldering red still in places and ashy white at the edges. His unburned nostril flared and his good eye flashed with rage.  He stepped forward and swung a boot that took me in the face and sent me sprawling.

He stood over me, panting, and put his full weight behind a heel he drove against my chest. I couldn't catch my breath, could barely think, and he loomed above me like bitter death. He pointed a hand down at me, and I saw that it shook. "I'll break you, child. In body and in soul. I'll break you till you beg me for your death. I'll make you pay for everything you've done!"

I tried to snarl an answer, but he shook his head and waved a casual backhand that cracked a vicious blow of will against my jaw. Pain flashed behind my eyes, brighter than the stars above. I clung desperately to consciousness, blinking away the lights, and saw a shadow cross the starry sky.

I grinned. He struck me once again, but I laughed. "Kill him!" I ordered in my mind. "Kill him now. Kill him, please!"

The dragon struck, fast as a cobra strikes. It fell to earth hard enough to shake the ground beneath my shoulder. It landed behind the wizard, wings still spread, and fangs as long as my arm flashed at the wizard's head. Somehow the wizard dodged them. He felt the dragon's presence, and he leaped away. He spun in the air, his arms lashing out, and once again a storm of hammered steel lashed through the air.

I screamed, "No!" I twisted up but I could not reach my feet. I leaned upon my knees and screamed again at the staccato bursts of pain as blade after blade drove deep into the dragon's armored hide. The mental defenses I had built collapsed. They washed away beneath the thunder of that pain, and the dragon's awareness flooded into me.

I felt its agony so sharp and hot it drew a sob from me. I felt its rage clenching my hands into fists. I felt its quiet, patient hunger, too. I opened my eyes and saw the world that the dragon saw. Blood flowing, life failing, I saw the tiny, fragile man before me. I snorted a hot huff of breath that exploded from my nose and drank a deep draught of air.

I had no fangs of my own, no fire within. I felt the dragon's strength beneath my weakness, its fury beneath my fear. I felt a power blind to deadly pain. Across from me, the dragon heaved itself onto its feet despite its injuries. I touched that same strength and rose up to my feet behind the wizard.

Time turned slowly. The wizard raised a hand, a gesture that seemed casual as it dragged through the air, but I would not let him slay the dragon. I reached down to my side where a sword should have been and snarled that there was nothing there. And then I grinned, fierce and terrible, and my power was upon me.

I reached out with my will and called it up. I felt the wizard's spell again, the explosion of pain within my mind for daring to touch elemental power. But there was a dragon in my head. I shared the pain with my fearsome ally, and man and beast we shrugged the pain away. There was killing still to do, and for that I needed fangs.

I stretched my empty hand toward the earth and poured my will into it. In beads as fine as crystal salt the earth reached up, pouring against gravity to form a shape beneath my hand. It made a simple hilt that molded to my hand. It stretched into a crosspiece and then stabbed out before me in a long, slender blade.

I took the campfire in my other hand and poured it over the blade. I bent the moving air to shape a cutting edge, to strip the point until it could pierce steel. Within a breath I made my sword, forged hot from living nature. Then I took it in my hand and called the wizard's name.

"Lareth!" I shouted, and he turned before he could make the killing blow. At first he only glanced and saw me there. His good eye opened wide in horror. He spun and there was power in his hands, glowing bright and hot, but I was not afraid. I brought my sword up in anger and in pain. I brought it down in violence and blood. It pierced the wizard through and pinned him to the ground. I roared. The dragon roared. The sounds were one.

And then the agony was gone. The surge of pain within my mind dissolved. The bright green flame above Isabelle's tent winked out. The wizard at my feet coughed blood and tried to smile. His hand fell limp. Panting for breath, I held his gaze and watched the life ebb out of him. 

Just before it went, a heartbeat before he died, he breathed one word of power and disappeared.

I blinked. Blood slicked the ground and stained my earth-wrought sword. Fire roared behind me, all around me. I could smell the acrid smoke, the scent of death and destruction that lay upon the plain. I turned slowly and looked upon the dragon.

"He's gone," I thought, stunned.

He's broken and he's dead, the dragon said. His power's burned, and he cannot heal the way a dragon does. With that thought came another wash of pain that drove me to my knees, and I had to gasp for breath before I could wall away the dragon's awareness again. I shook my head and ground my teeth until it passed.

Vechernyvetr shifted awkwardly before me, trying to settle its weight on injured legs. I saw the moonlight playing over the beast's hide, stitching it together again, but there was much that needed fixing. I stepped closer, compassion welling in me. The dragon snorted and rolled its cauldron eyes.

Spend no pity on me, little man. You're hurt worse than I, but we will both survive. The dragon chuckled, deep and low. You fight with fury. You could almost be my brother. You have my admiration.

I shuddered at the memory, but I knew it for a compliment. I bowed my head to the dragon. "I could have done none of it without you."

I know, the dragon said. My debt is paid. It shifted again, testing injured legs, then turned its head to look down on me. My debt is paid, it said again. We are not friends. You know this, yes?

I nodded. "I know," I said. "And yet you have my thanks."

That means nothing at all, the beast replied. Its long neck snaked up high, head whipping left and right to look out over the plains, and then one eye tracked down to me again. Men will come, as they came before. I should not tarry here. My debt is paid.

I swallowed and nodded. "Of course. I understand," I said. "Your debt is paid. Now go and live."

And you as well, the dragon said, and it leaped to grapple with the sky. Wings as wide as a village green flapped twice, three times, and the beast was gone.

---

I had to find my strength before I could go to Isabelle. I did my best to quell the fires that raged through the camp, and bound up one single flame like a torch above my hand. Then I turned toward the prison tent, my heart racing, and bent a gust of wind to lift its flaps. I stepped inside.

Like a rose in the desert she was there, sitting on her heels in the quiet darkness. Her eyes were wide, and I saw tears of fear upon her cheeks, but she had never budged. She'd waited. She had trusted me to bring her rescue.

She blossomed when she saw me. Light and hope and joy flared on her face, and she threw herself to her feet with more energy than I could have imagined. She flung herself upon me, arms around my neck and kisses on my face, and it was everything I could do to keep from falling. The sword dropped from my hand. My light blinked out, and the sword splashed like water and ended as a pile of dirt beside my feet. My attention was all elsewhere.

She paused in all the kisses to peek past me. She seemed very small then, fingers knotted in the threadbare fabric of my shirt and body pressed close against mine. She stretched up on her toes to see more clearly, and I heard a little squeak escape her lips. I raised a hand to brush at her hair and whispered softly, "It is done."

"You've killed them all!" she said with wonder in her voice.

I shook my head. "I've set them all in flight," I said. "I think I killed the wizard, though. And put a fear in all the rest they will not soon forget."

She nodded, blinking, and I saw tears in her eyes. "You did it," she said. "You really did it. My shepherd boy. My beggar from Chantire."

I laughed at that. "You do remember well."

The tears escaped her eyes and she reached up in frustration to wipe them away. "I didn't know.... I heard it all. I had to wait. I had to wait, and never knew, and then with all the screams—"

"It's done," I said, with a quiet ease I did not truly feel. I raised a hand to brush the tears from her cheek. She didn't need to know everything that had happened. She knew enough.

She leaned her forehead against my chest and I heard a little sniff. Without looking up she asked, "Where are the rest?"

"The rest?" I said.

"The soldiers. The king, his wizards, all his men. Where is the army? Are they out giving chase?"

I laughed again. I could not contain it. "The king? He would not come. He wouldn't even hear my plea."

"Then how...." She stopped, and her eyes were very wide again as she raised her gaze to mine. "You did it by yourself."

I swallowed. I didn't tell her that a dragon helped. She raised a hand to my face, awe in her eyes, and did not quite touch my skin. "You saved my home. You saved my life. You... alone."

I ducked my head to break her gaze. I sighed. "I could not let him win," I said.

She laughed, a sharp and startled sound like a pheasant breaking cover. "Of course," she said. "You couldn't let him win. So you alone bested an army to rescue me and mine." She shook her head slowly. "There is magic in you, Daven. It was there before the wizard ever found you."

"You don't understand," I said, but she stopped me with a finger on my lips. And then a kiss. It was softer, more hesitant than the flurry of little kisses she'd given me before. She pressed close against me, and she was warm. She held the kiss for a handful of heartbeats, then pulled away and had to catch her breath. I had no hope of catching mine.

"You are a hero," she said. I opened my mouth but she stopped my objection again. "You are my hero."

I had to swallow before I could speak. When I did I dipped my eyes in a little nod. "Lareth's force is broken," I said. "But we should go. This is no place to linger."

Her eyes flashed, and she chuckled low. "Will you escort me home?"

"I will," I said and offered her my hand. I stepped before her from the tent, straining my ears for any sound of struggle. In the distance fires still raged, but as we walked that way I reached out with my will and snuffed the dragon's flame. I left campfires here and there to light our way, but mostly I smothered those as well. A dozen paces down I drew another sword out of the earth, in case of need.

But there was none. A hundred paces brought us to a band of townsfolk come to investigate the disturbance. They cried out in joy when they saw Isabelle and rushed up to us. One and all they stopped a pace away, eyes flashing with gratitude and concern. 

Isabelle accepted their warm sentiments for a moment, then waved them to silence to offer a hurried explanation of what had happened. Heads shook in quiet awe, and when she gave me credit for the devastation all around me I saw a tremor of fear pass among them. They did not quite meet my eyes. But when Isabelle sent them on ahead, to carry word back to the town of what had happened, they bowed low and rushed away.

She caught one of them just before he left, and said with quiet authority, "Find my father first. Tell him everything I've told you. And tell him too that the hero's name is Daven. Themmichus's Daven."

Then she let him go. I watched it all, anxious to bring Isabelle after them to the safety of her father's house, but she showed no hurry. She strolled instead, as though we were walking in a city garden, and held my empty hand between two of hers. My heart pounded as we went, and it was not entirely for fear of rebels coming back.

When we arrived at Teelevon I found a little town without walls or gates, little larger than Sachaerrich on the green. It was not yet dawn, but everyone in town seemed to be there, gathered in two crowds with a broad path down the center of the green. At the end of that path was a house that could have put Jemminor's to shame—a mansion on the green, fronted by a wide patio atop a dozen marble steps. And on the porch stood a man I'd seen once two lifetimes ago, a glimpse through a distant door.

Isabelle's father, the Baron Eliade. He was a friend of the king and a Lord of the Ardain. He waited with attendants at his side, and down upon the green a hurrah went up as we approached. Isabelle never stirred. She squeezed my hand more tightly and watched me instead of the crowd as we approached her father's house.

He did not frown at me as we approached. He did not narrow his eyes or ask suspicious questions. He held my eyes with a tearful smile. "She said she'd bring us help," he said, and I heard the husk of tears in his voice. "In a note." He swallowed and shook his head. "I thought her lost."

"Oh, Papa," she said, chiding, and the old man burst into tears. Big and strong and full of joy, he threw himself at me, and I flung my sword aside or he'd have been hurt. He wrapped me in his arms and heaved me from my feet in a great bear hug, and behind me a cheer went up to shame the one that had gone before. The whole town cried out.

I drifted in it all like a man at sea. I could find no solid ground, no touchstone to reality, except Isabelle's hand. She never took it from my arm, and her long, cool fingers held my focus. I heard her laugh again, "Oh, Papa, please!" and Baron Eliade released me and stepped back.

"Teelevon," he cried to all the crowd. "My girl is back! Our Isabelle is safe. The siege is done. We're saved, by this man's hand!" He spun me, then, to face the crowd, and for a moment I lost Isabelle's touch. She found my other arm, and gripped it with both hands, and turned her smile on the crowd below.

The baron still proclaimed, "His name is Daven! Wizard. And a friend of our family. Forever." He dropped a heavy hand on my shoulder, warm and strong, and in a lower voice he mumbled, "Thank you, boy. I cannot say enough. You have a home here as long as you might want one."

Isabelle tore her gaze from the crowd at that and fixed it on my eyes. I felt a sudden nervousness in her grip on my arms, a fear that was entirely out of place in her expression. She lowered her voice and said, "Will you please stay? You're welcome here. Will you please stay?"

I looked at her and laughed. It was absurd. Her eyes shone bright beneath the silver moon. They glinted, and I saw the hint of tears. She had taken my laughter for rejection. I bent my head closer to her, blocking out the noise of the crowd. I stared into her eyes. "I shall do whatever you desire," I said to her. "I am your shepherd after all."

Her eyes danced at that. She caught her breath, and then she smiled. She reached up to touch my face. "You'll be my prince. But that is talk for tomorrow." She leaned against me again and took another breath. "For now, you are our hero, and this can be your home. Is that enough for you?"

I could not have answered her, but she did not seem to need one. She leaned against me, and waved out to the crowd, and I could feel her breathing. 

This could be my home. It was enough. I had honor, and hope, and a place to lay my head. I stretched an arm around the girl and she did not object. I had a family here and friends. I had everything I wanted.

In the back of my mind there burned a weary pain, reminder of other things. I had Vechernyvetr's guesses but I knew not what had become of the attack on the king's garrison at Tirah. I did know there were dragons in the world and more waking. Vechernyvetr had confirmed it.

There were still rebels, too, and the wizard had escaped. I'd given him injuries far worse than the ones that had lain Claighan low, but I could not trust him to die easily. I had an enemy in him.

I had powerful adversaries at court as well. And I would have more, if they survived the dragons' attack, for the way I'd left my prison cell. The king still thought me a murderer and a traitor. And his Knight-Captain, Othin...twice now I'd slipped the officer's custody and stained his pride. I had enemies enough to make a strong man tremble.

But that was a matter for tomorrow. For now, I had survived. For now, I was a hero. For now, I had a home.

That was enough, for now.