As ever, Rose was at Kordas’s elbow as he trudged down to where Mother and Pebble were still grazing lazily. Rose returned his Spitter and pouches—all conspicuously empty—and she resumed her duties of briefing him until they were past the gate. I didn’t even think how she was going to fire this thing, when I gave her my Spitter. I guess she used her thumbs?

Kordas was pretty sure that the Elementals were taking great pains to gobble down even the tiniest bits of the Red Forest. Of course, that wasn’t entirely altruistic on their part; it looked like all the wounds that the Forest had torn in Mother’s sides were completely healed, and he didn’t need mage-sight to tell that both of them had completely replenished any magical energy they had lost—as well as taken the Forest’s.

He had to stop a good distance away from Mother; the heat coming off of her was still quite enough to set fire to anything flammable near her, even though she had dimmed that heat until her surface was a very similar texture to pumice stone, only darker. She and Pebble did not appear to pay any attention to him as he lingered on the edge of the field of ashes and churned up soil around them.

“I came to thank you, Mother,” he called hoarsely.

Slowly, she raised her head. Her eyes had been closed as she “grazed” methodically. Now she opened them, and they were still white-hot. He could feel their blast when she looked at him, and his lips were cracking.

“The thing was Abomination, and needed to be set to rest,” she said, her actual voice sounding like brass gongs. “We owed you debt. Our debt is paid.”

“Seems to me that it was overpaid,” he replied candidly. And he spoke those words knowing he was opening himself up to demands from someone who might ask more of him than he could give.

But she—laughed. “The feast repays all,” she replied. “We shall eat and cleanse this soil, and then go. You will need to make the soil here rich again, or it will grow nothing when we are done with it.”

She must be sterilizing the soil as she sifts through it for bits of the Forest.

“Thank you again,” he managed. And then asked the important question. “Do you see my companion?”

“My child knows your companion,” said Mother. “He knows that your companion and her fellows with you are the Truthseekers, trapped within those bodies.”

“Do you know a way to free them?” he asked.

Rose actually made a sound like a muffled gasp.

“We’ve tried to find a way, but all our studies say that if the glass that contains them is broken, they die. That is woven in the spells that confine them to the glass. But they cannot be freed from the glass without breaking—”

“You did not have me,” Mother interrupted, with the natural arrogance of something as powerful as she was. “No human like you can ever muster the power, or the fire, to melt the enchanted glass they are trapped in. But I can. And I will. For we owe debt to the Truthseekers as well, who did what they could for my child.” Mother didn’t shift her posture, but her eyes redirected to Rose. “Do you want this, Truthseeker?”

“More than anything!” Rose cried, and clasped her mitten-like hands just under her chin—an unconscious, or deliberate, imitation of Delia, he thought. Then she composed herself, and glanced at Kordas. “But—”

Kordas licked his lips. They stung. “Rose, this is your chance. I told you that we would find a way to free you, and when we did, we’d do it immediately,” he interrupted.

“But I—we said we would stay with you as long as you needed us.”

Kordas was struck by the forceful impression that Mother was listening carefully to every word he said, so he chose them deliberately. “Yes, you did. And, yes—you did. But if we do not free you soon, we will never learn not to need you Dolls. And you will never see freedom. Just because you have chosen to stay with us . . . that doesn’t make you any less prisoners in those bodies, and we damned well never will own slaves.”

He had an audience now, an audience of the hundreds of Dolls who were coming down to where he and Rose stood with Mother and Pebble. What one Doll knew, they all knew, after all. How could they have kept away?

“It’s time for you to be free, in your proper forms,” he said, raising his voice. “It’s time for us to learn how to do without you.” He held out his hand, and Rose put one of hers in it. “It’s not as if you can’t stay hereabouts if you choose to,” he pointed out. “You just won’t be giving us physical help. But we’ll know you’re there.” He laughed a little. “I’m sure that if we can talk to Mother and Pebble, we can learn how to talk to Ivy and Amethyst and Rose. And meanwhile, you’ll be what you were meant to be.”

He could tell that Rose was reluctant, but the rest of the Dolls certainly were not. They crowded up against him and Rose, practically vibrating with eagerness to be gone.

Rose bowed her head in acquiescence.

“Back up, Kordas, Kamaje-friend,” Mother intoned. “I do not wish to cook you where you stand.”

The Dolls spontaneously parted to give him room to get out of range, as Mother cupped her talons before her, with an opening between them, and they began to glow as white-hot as her eyes. He kept backing up until he was nearly halfway to the gate, and only then, as the Dolls flowed around him, rushing—and yet moving in an orderly fashion, no jostling, and no competition—did he notice that Rose was still with him. As they ran, the Dolls tore off, untied, or otherwise removed the items they’d been marked with, dropping them into the mud behind them.

Mother’s talons were so hot now that it was hard to look at them. The wave of Dolls began to race—and he understood, somehow, that they were going to have to pass between those deadly hands as fast as they could move, or they ran the very real risk of losing the ability to move before they reached the place where the heat was enough to melt, rather than break, the glass containing their “selves.”

Even so, they were entirely on fire as they passed into the space between Mother’s hands. It was surreal, and not a little terrifying, to see all these human-like figures rushing to their apparent doom, to see human-like figures burning, burning, burning and still moving into the fire instead of away.

And it was there between Mother’s talons that the Doll bodies actually vaporized.

He not only saw the vrondi then, he heard them—he saw them spiraling up and around Mother, singing her a wordless song that held thanks and praise, gratitude and boundless good will. The Dolls formed a river, a river that ended in annihilation and freedom, and he wasn’t entirely sure of his own feelings at this point. Gratitude mingled with regret, happiness with sorrow, it was all one tangled mess. He realized he was holding Rose’s hand, and she was holding his.

Finally the flood became a flow, the flow became a stream, the stream became a trickle, and the trickle ended. “Your turn, Rose,” he said.

She turned toward him, picked up his hand, kissed it in her own way, and let it go.

“You are the kindest, best, and bravest human I have ever known,” she said, voice shaking with emotion he had not known she could feel. “You are not always wise, or intelligent—but you are unfailingly compassionate and determined to make bad things right.”

He started, hearing those words, and sought for something to say and could not find it. She patted his face with her hand, and spoke again. “We cannot always have love in the way that we want,” she said tenderly. “But we can have love in the ways that we dare. And I will always love you.”

She stepped backward. “Watch for me, Kordas Valdemar. If fate will have it, we will be together again.”

And with that, she turned and flung herself toward Mother, running faster than his fastest horse ever could. He held his hand out behind her but jerked it back as if he’d touched a griddle. The heat had burned his fingertips and he clutched it to his heart.

And then—in a flicker of light—she was gone.

The Hawkbrothers were back, and with them, a cadre of the hertasi. Delia only learned this after she had been helped to her bed, given something for what could only be described as a skull-splitting headache, and left to recover. She’d fallen asleep as soon as she was certain the attack was over, although she didn’t find out what had actually happened until she woke up two days later.

She’d actually awakened a few times during that period, but it had only been to eat and drink what was left for her, attend to the necessary, and go back to sleep. When she finally woke without a headache, and without feeling as if the inside of her head was bruised, it appeared to be about noon, and she could tell from the sounds outside her little home that the place was, once again, full of hertasi and Hawkbrothers. The noise of the birds was back—she hadn’t realized how quiet it had been without it—and the high-pitched voices of hertasi were not to be confused with even human children.

She grimaced a little, hoping she hadn’t kept anyone out of their old home, and searched for some clean clothing. Dressed and more or less ready to face what was going on, she almost ran straight into Jelavan, who had a pitcher in one hand and a bowl of hot oatmeal mixed with dried fruits. “Oh good, you’re really awake. The Healers thought you would be.”

“I’m also starving,” she admitted, but she was polite enough to hug Jelavan with one arm while grabbing for the bowl with the other.

He didn’t bother her while she gobbled down the food without the least shame for her manners. He just stiffened his tail and used it as a prop—or maybe a sort of stool—for his rump as he waited, and told her what had happened after the pain in her skull had made her pass out despite how hard she had fought to stay conscious.

“So all the Dolls have been set free, and I completely missed everything from just before Pebble’s Mother turned up.” She sighed, and combed her unruly hair out of her face with her fingers. “I always miss everything. I suppose all of you Tayledras were actually in the forest spying on us to make sure we weren’t going to turn out to be like the Impies.”

Jelavan sheepishly scratched the side of his snout with a claw. “Well,” he admitted. “Yes. To all of it. But to be fair, we were not expecting the Red Forest to rip itself up and come follow you. We didn’t know it could move, actually. We also watch you because you’re hilarious.”

“And don’t you ever forget it. We’re gods-blessed delights you better keep safe. Well, it’s nice to know you lot aren’t omnipotent and omniscient,” she replied mockingly, licking her spoon. “And you were the ones sending those fireballs.”

“Sometimes, explosives are the best way to show you care.”

“I sure didn’t care for that Forest. Why didn’t you all destroy it before we got here? Or was this some kind of test, to you?”

Jelavan pretended to ignore that last comment. “It had been mostly quiet for so long we made the mistake of thinking it had gone dormant. Well, again, to be fair, it wasn’t emitting much in the way of magic, but I suppose that was because it was eating magic, not putting magic out.”

“That’s short-sighted of you.” She couldn’t resist digging the knife in a little deeper.

“Oh, pray, do not remind me. I assure you, inquiries about that are coming in from many directions.” Jelavan made a rude noise. “Oh! What has happened to my memory? One of the Dolls left something for you.” He bounced up on his feet and went to one of the woven vine shelves that had been cleverly bound into the wall. “Here it is.”

Delia recognized it immediately. It was the bead embroidery piece centered by an amethyst that had adorned Doll Amethyst’s forehead. It had been neatly cut out of the canvas of her face, leaving just enough fabric to sew it to something else.

She took it in her hand, marveling again at the delicacy of the work. “I am going to miss Amethyst,” she said wistfully. “But not as much as Kordas will miss Rose, I think.”

“She told me it was too pretty to burn up, and she wanted you to have it to remember her fondly by. And she said to make sure to tell you that it didn’t hurt at all to cut it off.” That last made the last of Delia’s worries vanish.

“So how long are you staying this time?” she asked, hoping it was going to be a while. “And how many of you are there?”

“At least two moons to help with the damage, and two dozen moons with attendant hertasi.” Then he sighed. “You all have so much to learn that we didn’t even think to teach you. We have tools you haven’t even seen yet. And there is going to be so much cleaning up the underground before it’s fit to sleep in again, we may just incinerate. How did you manage to cram that much livestock down there?”

She had to laugh. “I have no idea. I was too busy punting Poomer canisters into the Forest to blow them up. Like you said, ‘Sometimes, explosives are the best way to show you care.’ But don’t worry.” She put the bit of beadwork away carefully in the box she kept her comb and mirror in. “You don’t need to hurry to clean it all up. You and anyone else who can fit in here can stay with me, as long as I’m not usurping someone’s home.”

“You’re not! You are welcome to it!” Jelavan exclaimed happily. “You won’t regret having us in here. We can fit thirty in here! We stack! Oh, should I ask Kordas first? After all, I am a strange being, and you are inviting me to come live with you a while—”

“Strange, yes, but in the best ways. Kordas has no say in the matter,” she said firmly. “I can make my own decisions. To be honest, I hope you or some of the Tayledras can give me an idea how I can increase my endurance when using this Gift of mine. No one here seems to know much about it.” The very idea made her quietly excited. She’d gotten used to being an effective part of a team as a scout. And if I’m honest, getting praised for something only I can do was awfully nice.

“I’m sure we can!” Jelavan said gleefully. “Steelrain knows a very great deal about Gifts, when you can get her out of the armory. Oh, this will be fun! I will enjoy sharing living space with you, Delia, and think of all the things we will have to talk about! I will do all I can to prolong our stay here! I shall run and get my things!”

“And I can tell you all about how Kordas turned to me for help!” she blurted back. “Now shoo!” And off he scrambled, leaving Delia to wait for him, smiling to herself.

It was good to have her friend back, even if it was only for a little while.

And I—I have things to do. Things to learn. Things to become.

“Some people are never going to forgive you for letting the Dolls go,” Sai said, a fortnight later, after the two of them watched a group of sheepish, even contrite Hawkbrothers help some of the other mages strengthen the Veil so that it would last longer before it began to fade, by way of reparation for leaving them to face the Blood Forest. By the time the Veil became ineffective, he hoped they’d have built enough proper buildings that the Veil wouldn’t be needed. And by then they’d have mastered creating smaller versions that could serve as greenhouses in the winter. Most of the mages and Tayledras spellmasters had adjourned to here, a sort of open lecture hall in the Vale, where Sai and Kordas watched from a close-by pavilion. With beverages.

“Some people can learn how to pick up after themselves, and mind their own lives. We didn’t depend on the Dolls so much that we can’t relearn how to do without them again,” Kordas replied, as he waited for the Tayledras to call upon him for aid. Or not. Most of the time he was just left to supervise in absentia. They seemed to think that it was more important that Kordas save his strength and tend to the complaints and needs of his people than contribute to the building and rebuilding going on. Or maybe it was about pride. Either worked.

More snow had fallen, covering the place where Mother had killed the Red Forest, but not before Pebble had gone over it all, evening and flattening it out.

They’d used the spot for the colony’s cemetery, to bury the two hundred-odd people that had been killed in the fight. The ground was soft and well-worked by Pebble, it was in a good spot for such a thing, and it seemed an appropriate use for the area.

Those deaths were probably why the Hawkbrothers were helping now, because if they had even bothered to check on the Red Forest before they “left,” no one would have died. And while Silvermoon had said that death was just another daily thing for them, they sure did take the burials seriously. If there is one thing Valdemarans can do, it’s wring feelings out of people. The Tayledras act like they’re devastated about it, but none of them are talking about it. They and the Valdemarans could have set up an ambush for the Forest, in a place prepared well in advance. Prepare the battlefield, win the battle. We need to work on that. The Forest literally just ran up to our wall. I have some ideas for architecture as channelling traps and time wasters. It would have been a hard fight, but it was one that could have been won without any deaths.

Kordas had felt guilty that he really hadn’t known those who had died that well—but at least they had all been within his Guard. They had all known they were going to be fighting against danger. But still, the sight of each wrecked body as it was put into the ground had devastated him.

But—

Sai unexpectedly whacked the back of his head with an open hand.

“Hey!” he said indignantly, putting his hand up to his abused skull. “What was that about?”

“You’re brooding again,” Sai replied. “You’re going down that same old path of ‘but what if I hadn’t,’ and frankly, it’s getting old. Get out of your rut. Anything could have happened. You followed your grandfather’s Plan. You did the best you could. Most of us are alive and well. Those who aren’t, aren’t. The rest of us go on.”

“That seems—harsh,” he remonstrated.

“Life is harsh. Life is hard. We’re doing well, extraordinarily well, really. Unexpected allies, a secure place to start, and the farmers are raving about the soil.” Sai shrugged. “I won’t say things will be easy in our lifetimes, but we’ll manage for a while, then we’ll do pretty well for a while, and then we’ll thrive. Or a giant rock will fall out of the sky and we’ll all die, but I don’t see that happening. Where’s Delia?”

The abrupt change of subject caught him off guard. “I have no idea,” he admitted.

This time Sai slapped him on the back. “Good! Good!” he enthused. “Then your plan when you sent her out with the scouts worked. She has her own life and she’s not moping around trying to become part of yours. She’s a good girl, by the way. She’ll find her own way.”

He realized after a moment that he actually had not caught sight of Delia in days, and then only in passing. Mostly with one of the hertasi. He hoped that she would pick up some of their skills. Then again, this is Delia. Will I be usurped? How could anything stand against Delia armed with vast skills and experience?

Briada joined them at that moment. In the wake of the attack of the Red Forest, he had learned that she and her cousins had held almost a quarter of the wall against the Forest with a handful of the Guard, using a fire-and-retreat tactic atop the parapets, at a less-demanding tempo. In the wake of that, he’d appointed her the head of the Guard, and somewhat to his bemusement, no one had argued with him. “Baron,” she said, and threw him a modified salute.

“Captain,” he replied. “Something I need to know?”

“Inventory is done,” she told him. “As I’m sure you guessed, we haven’t got many Poomer canisters left. Fifty-nine, to be precise. Nice stock of other equipment, though, and on my own initiative I’ve got ballistas and ammunition positioned every three lengths along the wall.” She paused, waiting for his approval or disapproval.

“Better on the wall than in storage,” he said. “Provisions for weather?”

“They were all kits in crates, and came with waterproofed coverings,” she told him. “They’ll be fine. Whoever packed them up and sent them on to us knew what they were doing.”

That would have been the Dolls, when they were looting the Imperial supplies for us, he thought, with a twinge of sadness. He missed Rose. And Ivy. And—he realized he missed every one he’d known by a name. Be wise in the ways of names was one of magic’s most basic and purest of rules. When anything is made distinctive, it is made more than simply mortal.

“Carry on, Captain,” he told her. “You have a hundred times the military experience that I have—probably fifty times the actual military experience of anyone here. I depend on your judgment. If you don’t, I’ll use my spooky magical powers on you. They get more powerful every time I hear about them.”

She snorted. “Put me on the spot, why don’t you? All right, I’ll do my best to get us readied for anything I can think of. But I’m not a trained strategist—”

Sai barked a humorless laugh. “Imperial strategy seems to consist of throwing bodies at the enemy until they are either defeated or so buried in piles of bodies that they can’t move. Don’t do that. You’ll do fine.”

Briada sketched an entirely mocking salute at Sai. “Whatever you say, crazy old man.”

He shook his fist at her. She laughed. “Are those new eyebrows?” she said, and went on her way.

“There were times in the past year when it’s felt like I was inventing new hells, Sai,” Kordas admitted. “Felt like I was being batted around between every power that could get a grab on me for a moment. Mostly, though, we did all right. Better than I would have expected. We’re at our best when we’re cooperative.”

“Or in your case, not cooperative so much as ‘Oh! Is it time for me to do more than any fifty of you, then fall over in wearying self-doubt? I’ll be right there!’ Hah, I know you, Kordas!” Sai was giving him a hard time, sure, but the tone of the last part was leaning heavily toward affection. “We’ve been with you a long time, and I can’t speak for the others, but if it was up to me, and you’d been a lout, I’d have replaced you with a puppet regime centered on my comforts. So never forget, you’ve got that to be thankful for.”

Kordas had to laugh at that. “Funny you’d say that. Feeling like a puppet has been in the back of my head a long time now. It’s a weird kind of doubt that comes with—” He paused to pick the right phrase. “—being in charge, but not being a tyrant? People don’t think I’m a tyrant. I don’t think I’m a tyrant. But with that comes doubt. Tyrants don’t have doubts. But oh, do I. When the Plan went into motion, I thought for about the first few weeks I could run it all, but the doubt got to be too much. I reached out, and was given help. I found myself connected to things I hadn’t fully grasped, and all of the time it was getting more complex. To cope with that I suppressed a lot, I borrowed from other priorities, I—admit, I neglected so many things. But I didn’t want to. I had to. And I can’t get that time back. I need to meet my kids,” he laughed, but unenthusiastically. “I owe them at least a year.”

“Oh, at least a year. And a pony for each of them. Take them on patrols,” Ponu added, joining them to slowly, carefully sit down on an open chair.

“Hah! Not a bad idea. I can include them in duties I once thought were mine alone,” Kordas answered, trying to stay serious.

“‘Alone, alooone.’ Well, you needed the solitude for truly good brooding,” Jonaton chimed in, picking up a chair to join them. “I’ve seen it. Top-quality, romance-poetry brooding.” Kordas faked an illusory fireball at him while overacting his affrontery, and Jonaton mocked diving away in fear.

“It felt essential to give these people my all. So I thought, if I saved everyone, I saved my family too. And if I didn’t try to save everyone, I wouldn’t be who my family believed me to be. They believed in me, so I believed I could be what they wanted. Which turned out pretty well. You can’t imagine how lucky I feel in this moment.”

“Imagine how lucky we feel that we aren’t family,” Wis cackled, before sitting with them in his own folding chair.

“It’s worth more thought, though, you think? I think the really amazing part is that, even when my world fell out from under me so many times this year, I got the feeling that every one of you would try to catch me if you could, and that is something I never thought I’d feel so intensely as I have the past few months.” Kordas looked to each of them, and out to the magic lecture where the rest of the Six, or Seven, or maybe Eight, were. His expression was joyful.

“Oh! Oh, hey, got to go!” Ponu said after four heartbeats, and got up.

“Look, I was having a perfect wistful moment there and you’re just going to spoil it?” Kordas gasped.

“Bah! They’re doing something different,” Sai said, perking up. “I need to see this.” And with that, he trotted off to the group of mixed mages and parked himself where he had a good view of the magical proceedings without getting in anyone’s way. Everyone left, as part of the gag, but Kordas did wind up watching them on his own.

Well, I’m not getting anything accomplished here. Time to move on. He felt a little jealous of Sai. But perhaps he could get lessons from Sai later. Slow ones. The Tayledras mages knew these spells in their bones, and they moved a bit too fast for him to follow.

Being a mage is not your primary job, he reminded himself. This is no different than riding a circuit of the Duchy to see how things are going. The only difference is that everyone is crammed together in one place, and I don’t have to ride.

Well, next on his list should be checking with Isla, who was in charge of all the common supplies. He’d have liked to appoint someone else, because he felt unsure about asking her to continue the role she’d taken in the convoy, but she was good at it, she didn’t seem to mind doing it, and he knew he could trust her. Of all the things that needed doing, keeping accurate accounts of the supplies was probably the most important.

He found her, as he had expected, down in the hertasi tunnels, checking food out with the cooks. His old Seneschal was in charge of the same task at the gardens, since the poor fellow had such fierce claustrophobia that as soon as he’d been coaxed down there during the Forest attack, he’d fainted dead away.

“. . . and when are we a-going to get a proper watermill?” one woman was asking querulously, her arms around a basket containing a share of wheat. Kordas’s analytical side immediately recognized it as enough for bread for ten people. “I’m mortal weary of grinding grain.”

“You and everyone else, good dame,” Isla replied, her even tone betraying none of the irritation she was surely feeling, given her phrasing. “It won’t be until spring at the earliest. Just be glad we saved one barge of millstones, or it would be years before we could build one.”

The woman went away, grumbling under her breath. Isla closed her eyes; he knew that look. She was counting to twenty to cool her temper.

“We managed to save all those dubious bags of oats,” she said, opening her eyes. “The Healers say there’s nothing harmful in them, not even to animals.”

He took a deep breath. “That’s good news.”

“And I’ve got better. It’s all cleaned up down here again. Don’t mind the smoky smell. I’ve got people moving everything from the barges that people aren’t actually living in to storage down here. We should be done by suppertime. Anything that needs a preservation spell on it is being tended to by Venidel.”

They had a pleasant little conversation about who was doing what that came under Isla’s supervision, and as always, he was impressed by her management skills. Clearly she hadn’t ever actually needed the Seneschal’s help back in the Duchy; she had probably just accepted it to be polite.

“The boys asked permission to overnight with four friends in one of the tree-ekeles,” she finished. “They’ve been uncommonly good and helpful, so I said yes.”

She finished the sentence with an arched eyebrow, and lowered eyelids.

“Where are they eating supper?” he asked, responding to her signals with an appreciative smile.

“With their friends.” She returned his smile. “I’ve got a little treat I put away just for an evening like this.”

Her look was as good as a caress.

“Yes,” he answered. “But what will we do for supper?”

“Oh, you!” She laughed and made a shooing motion. “Go away and let me work. I’ll see you then.”

He had only just emerged from the tunnels when Jonaton ambushed him. Although it really could not have been called an ambush as such; there was nothing subtle about his outfit.

At least it’s not searing my eyeballs. “What is it, Jonaton?” he sighed. Because it was clear from Jonaton’s body language that he wanted something.

“Hakkon and I want to take over part of the tunnels,” he replied. “Isla won’t let us without your permission.”

“How much of the tunnels and why?” he asked. Because it was always a good idea to ask Jonaton exactly what he intended to do—and hedge him around with conditions.

“That spot in the far south with the dead end and three chambers off it,” Jonaton supplied, fiddling with fringe on his sleeves as long as Kordas’s forearm.

He’s up to something.

“I’m not up to something, I swear!” Jonaton added, which cemented Kordas’s impression that, in fact, he was up to something. “And it’s empty now. Isla wants to put smelly old fleeces in it. I’ve got a better idea.”

Kordas suddenly knew exactly what Jonaton had planned. “You’re going to make a window-Gate down there, aren’t you?”

“Well . . . yes.” More fiddling with fringe. “The chamber I want to use has a really good door that locks from the outside.”

“So if something goes wrong you can lock the door on what you let in,” Kordas responded flatly.

“Well . . . yes.”

Kordas sighed. Bad idea. But better to let him do it and hedge him around with conditions than forbid him and watch him do what he wanted to anyway. The proverb about apologies and permission cut both ways, sometimes. “One,” he said, holding up a finger. “You will not be spying on the Hawkbrothers’ new Vale.”

Jonaton sighed. It was clear that was exactly what he had intended to do. “All right,” he said sorrowfully. “I don’t know why you don’t trust me, Kordas.”

“I’m not done. Two. You will not be looking back at the Empire.”

“What?” That startled the mage. “Why not?”

“Because spy-holes work both ways. You’ve got to have four layers of countermeasures behind six misdirections before I’ll let you. Three: you will have Ceri or Sai with you at all times when you open your little window. All times. And if they don’t have time, then you don’t play with your toy. Is that clear?”

Jonaton frowned, but he behaved like he was sixteen sometimes. “It isn’t like I’m asking for Heartstone access!”

“Only because you won’t ask, you’ll do it and we’ll have to rescue you.”

Jonaton ground his teeth together.

“And one more thing. Keep cats out of the window room. I mean it.”

“You are such a tyrant,” Jonaton groused. “All right. I agree.”

“Then go find some hertasi to help you carry your things from your barge to your new cave,” Kordas told him. “I expect you to have everything moved by this time tomorrow.”

Jonaton picked up his skirts in both hands and raced to find Hakkon. Kordas looked after him, vaguely certain that he had left something vital out of his admonitions, but not sure what it was.

No matter. I’ll find out, and probably sooner rather than later.

He looked up at the winter sky past the branches of the trees and the shimmer of the Veil. Well, it could be worse. It could be raining.

And at exactly that moment, a fat drop of water hit him in the eye.

Shaking his head and laughing to himself, Kordas set off for his inspection of the defenses on the top of the wall. He was accompanied along the way by a satisfied-looking Sydney, who had the look of a cat that had definitely been up to something.