“WHY DID RIRI HATE HER so?” said Sun.

“They knew each other when they were girls, as you will have guessed,” said Albern. “Their feud began then, and it worsened the older they grew. That is not always how it goes, of course. Many times we make enemies in our youth, only to reunite with them later and laugh at old, petty grievances. But that usually requires our paths to draw apart for a time, only to reunite when years of wisdom allow us to see our early days with a more honest eye. Kaita and Riri never had that chance. They were never apart for long, and their conflict worsened each time they clashed.”

“They were not sisters, were they?” said Sun. “I have no siblings, but I have known others who do. They fight more than it seems possible two people can fight.”

Albern chuckled at that. “I have seen the same. But no, they were not.”

They journeyed now through green lowlands, across fields that stretched for leagues to the west and east. In the west they met suddenly a great spur rising up out of the land—Sun recognized it from the story Albern had already told her of Lan Shui. To the east, the land climbed into the foothills of the Greatrock Mountains, which stood imposing above them, reaching for the sun, which was still climbing into the sky. The cool air had warmed now, and Sun had cast off her cloak and opened the ties of her outer skins as she walked, trying to keep from overheating. A raven soared above them. Sun glanced at it and was unpleasantly reminded of Kaita, and the way she had stalked Mag and Albern from the air for so long. She shuddered and returned her attention to the road.

“It is all so different,” murmured Albern. When Sun looked up at him curiously, he waved his arm at their surroundings. “The landscape, I mean.”

“When was the last time you were here?”

“Longer than a while, less than an age,” he said, chuckling. “Some time after the Necromancer’s War, but not long after. Leaving for such a length of time makes all the changes seem far more stark. When you remain in a place, or when you see something every day of your life, you can miss the subtler changes as they happen.”

Sun peered up at him, for his face was still somewhat shadowed by his hood. He had not thrown it back, despite the sun. “You mean as someone grows older?”

“Certainly, but it is true for more than just people.” Albern rolled his shoulders. Sun was beginning to recognize that as a sign that he was about to tell another, smaller story, as part of the whole. “I am of the family Telfer, as you know, and my kin dwell in the northeastern mountains of Calentin, in a land called Tokana. That is near the northern end of the Greatrocks, whereas we are now close to their southern tip.

“Our main stronghold is nestled in the mountains, on a ridge overlooking a small dale. That dale was my favorite place when I was a child. The way the land seemed to spill down into it, tumbling from the heights to level out and grow smooth far below our home. The city surrounding our keep was built into the folds of the land. In the morning, the clouds would surround us like a blanket, and as the day wore on, the sun would cast that blanket away from us, welcoming us to its warmth. The stars … I have never seen so many, never seen them so clearly. It was like the sky viewed from the ocean on a clear night, but more so.

“Of course, I know now that I was viewing things through the eyes of childhood, and circumstances are rarely as good or as bad as we think they are when we are young. But still, it was a beautiful place. I would often go walking and riding, for I was always a lover of the wilderness. When I was very young, my middle sister, Ditra, would accompany me, along with a few attendants. When I was older, I ventured alone.

“In the center of the dale was a tall kauri tree. Every time, I would stop and spend a little while observing it. I told myself stories about it. I imagined climbing it one day, though I never did. The idea of it was something beautiful, and I feared that if I ever went to it in fact, if I put my hands on it, I would find that it was real, and inevitably disappointing.

“The tree never changed. It was always there, always watching over the valley. Kauris are evergreen, so it did not even lose its leaves in the winter. I imagine it was growing, but that was impossible to notice from so far away. And because of the tree, I thought that the land, too, was unchanging. To my mind, the city of Kahaunga was much the same every time I went out on one of my adventures, and the wilderness beyond was always a joy to ride through. I have told you that Mag’s happiest days were in Northwood with Sten. Mine were in those mountains, before I grew older and realized something was wrong in my life.

“That changed when, one day, someone cut down the kauri tree.”

Sun frowned at him. “What? Who?”

“Some logger, I imagine,” said Albern. “I never found out. But the next time I went riding, something felt wrong. It was like going on a journey and realizing after a week of travel that you have forgotten your cloak, though you would have sworn it was on your shoulders. Or, I suppose”—he raised the stump of his right arm—“it is like suddenly missing a limb. It took me some time to realize that the tree had been cut down, and it shook me. It shook me far more than it ought to have. But then, once I had recovered from that shock, I began to look around, and I realized that things were even worse. The dale no longer looked as it once had. The town had spread. It was a city now. A pall of smoke hung in the air, the smoke of many cooking fires and smiths' forges. I realized suddenly that the once-brilliant stars above me had grown dim and red. It had happened over time, so that I hardly noticed. And now that I studied it more closely, I realized that many trees had been felled in the dale, not just the tall kauri. Now there were more rooftops than trees in the valley. The tall kauri was only the latest victim; I had missed all the others because it had held all of my focus.

“I ran to my mother, the Rangatira, and demanded to know what had happened to the kauri. She dismissed my concerns with a snort, saying that it had had to come down for the good of the people in the dale. I myself thought that the dale had been better before everyone had torn it down to the turf. Mayhap the kauri had only been a pretty thing for me to look at, as my mother tried to tell me, but I did not think so at the time.

“That was in my fourteenth year. Until then, I had been mostly happy with my life. But seeing the great changes that continued to spread around me … it made me realize that I, too, had changed. I was never quite as satisfied again. I left before seeing my twentieth year.”

“You did?” said Sun, jerked suddenly out of the spell of the story. “Why, I have only seen nineteen years. You left at the same age as I did!”

Albern smiled down at her. “Correct. Do you not think that is odd? Do you understand a little better why, when I first heard about a daughter of the family Valgun sneaking away from her family, I thought I might understand why?”

Sun grew somber. “Mayhap. But your family does not sound quite so bad as mine.”

She expected him to refute her, but he only pursed his lips. “Mayhap. I suppose we shall both have to see. For now, let us return to Opara, where Mag and Dryleaf and I had taken our lodgings.”

We woke in the morning after a restful night, more restful than any we had had since we set out from Lan Shui. In truth we slept overlong, waking a good few hours past dawn. The smell of food drifting up from the kitchen filled my nostrils as I stretched upon the bed, which I had taken after Mag had replaced me on watch. She sat with her back against the room’s door, dozing, but her eyes snapped open as she heard me groan.

“Good morn,” she said. “I think I shall fetch us some breakfast.”

“Make sure to bring some to Oku as well,” I said. “He is likely angry with us, for spending the night inside and apart from him, after so much time of being able to share our tents.”

“Your tent, mayhap,” said Mag, sniffing. “I never allowed him into mine.”

“That is patently untrue,” I said. “But in any case, I would much appreciate it if you got us some food.”

She nodded and went to do it. I had Dryleaf up by the time she returned, and we ate in silence, enjoying our sliced sweet potato and sour bread.

“Sky,” I breathed, once I had finished eating. “That was good.”

“A taste of home for you, I imagine,” said Dryleaf.

“Time for business, then,” said Mag, before I could answer Dryleaf and tell him that I barely remembered the dish, for I had spent longer outside of Calentin than within it. “We must determine how to hunt down the Shades, and hopefully Kaita.”

“I am afraid I do not know where to start,” I said. “This place is almost as strange to me as if I had never been here before.”

Mag grinned. “There is someone we can call on.”

I frowned at her. “Who?”

“Victon.”

My eyes shot wide. “Victon? Victon is here?”

“He is,” said Mag. “We sent each other letters on occasion. After he retired from the life of a sellsword, he moved here to Opara and began a winery.”

Dryleaf’s brows shot for the ceiling, and he licked his lips. “Did he? It has been some time since I have been able to enjoy a good, rare vintage.”

“Victon,” I said, shaking my head. “I can scarcely believe it.”

“I hope he will be happy to see us,” said Mag, “and that he will be able to aid us.”

Laughing, I said, “Happy? I have never known Victon to be anything but a happy man. Let us ask the innkeeper if he knows where the vineyard is, and then let us report to our old captain.”