91. GOING TO WAR

Kalindra’s story

The imperial army camp outside of Atrine, Jorat

Evening

“I saw Anlyr,” Kalindra said the moment Tyentso walked into the medical tent.

Tyentso cut off whatever she’d been about to say. “Where? What was he doing?”

Kalindra was wrapping a bandage around her thigh so the physickers would stop pestering her about it. She’d be fine, she’d had far worse injuries, they needed to keep their magic ready for more serious wounds. On the other hand, Jarith would keep nudging medics in her direction until she bandaged the damn thing, so …

“They’re setting up some kind of ritual down there,” Kalindra said. “Which isn’t saying much because there’s ritual magic painted on every wall in that camp, but this one has Anlyr setting it up. I’m assuming it’s something Relos Var wants.”

“Then that’s something we—”

A portal opened in the center of the tent.

“Stop!” Tyentso yelled before anyone could respond with violence. It wasn’t a D’Aramarin portal. This one looked … well. It looked like something Tya would have made.

Grizzst, Therin, Khaeriel, and Talon (still looking like Kihrin) stepped through.

“Hi. We heard you might want help?” the big walking suit of armor said.

But Kalindra wasn’t interested in Grizzst. She was very interested in Talon.

“Hey,” Kalindra said to Talon. “Want to help me kill a mimic?”

Talon grinned at her. “Aw, it’s like you’re reading my mind.”

“A mimic? Where?” Khaeriel asked, although it didn’t seem like she needed to know the answer as much as she was trying to distract herself.

“His name’s Anlyr,” Kalindra said with a distasteful grimace. “He’s adorable. And he works for Relos Var.”

“Oh, I see,” Khaeriel said primly.

Tyentso waved her fingers at Talon. “Off with you, then. Make me proud.”

“Where’s Fayrin?” Kalindra asked.

Tyentso waved a hand. “He’s doing a thing for me. But what’s important right now is that I fucked up.”

“Oh?” Kalindra perked up, because while she was distantly—maybe—starting to warm up to Tyentso, she’d still swallow a living seagull whole if it meant pulling the wind from the empress’s sails. “Please tell me more.”

Tyentso casually gave her a rude gesture. “You were here when Nemesan showed up earlier today to stick his tongue out at me and gloat. I thought he was testing our defenses, but that wasn’t it at all. He did it so we’d turtle up.”

“You stay in your camp, Nemesan stays in his, and nobody’s trying to stop this Anlyr kid?” the walking suit of armor suggested.

“Pretty sure that Anlyr kid is your age,” Tyentso told Grizzst. “But yes, basically. So that means this is no longer about defense. We need to attack.”