Epilogue

THE NIMBLE RABBIT was busier than Dayne had ever seen it, with every table in the garden filled with customers, and even more standing around with wine in hand, talking and laughing. Two singers with fiddle and guitar were a focus of attention at one end of the garden, and at the other end there was the table Dayne was looking for.

It turned out to be more populated with recognizable faces than he expected.

Hemmit and Maresh were there, as was Lin. She was in good spirits, despite the thin scar across her forehead. She was even wearing her blouse half unlaced, proudly displaying her Circle tattoo. Today she was letting everyone there know she was a mage. Among the other members of Hemmit’s larger entourage were very familiar faces: Jerinne and a few other second-year Initiates. Dayne corrected himself: all three were third-year.

“Finally, the man arrives!” Hemmit shouted when he looked up and saw Dayne. He leaped up from the table and took Dayne in a great embrace.

“Hemmit—” Dayne started, but allowed the moment of jubilation.

“You have three pips,” Jerinne said from her seat.

“As do you,” Dayne returned. A glass of wine was suddenly in his hand, and one of Jerinne’s friends was on the table. A shrill whistle—louder than a human being could possibly make, which made Dayne suspect Lin was involved—quieted the establishment.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Initiate said, raising her glass. “The hero of the Parliament and the Tarian Order, Candidate Dayne Heldrin, third-year!”

“Hoorah, third-year!” Jerinne and her friend responded.

“Hoorah, third-year!” the entire crowd mimicked.

All wineglasses went up, all drank.

“I’m pretty sure that was out of protocol,” Dayne said, taking a seat between Jerinne and Maresh.

“My apologies,” the Initiate said, offering her hand. “Raila Gendon.”

“And this is Enther,” Jerinne introduced the other.

“I wasn’t expecting . . . this,” Dayne said. “Really I came because—”

“Because you are owed apologies,” Hemmit said. “Mostly by me.”

“I’m not owed anything.” Dayne took the book out of his pocket, “But I do have some . . . concerns.”

“I thought you might.” Hemmit snapped to the server to come over.

“It’s a very good likeness,” Lin offered.

“I know what your concerns are, Dayne. You wanted to be out of the news. But that wasn’t possible. You have to understand that.”

“But to go this far?” Dayne asked. He remembered all too well the initial laudations from the Lacanja press, reversed when Master Denbar was killed.

“This was how far it had to go, my friend. The newssheets were about to paint you in the same colors as Tharek and the Patriots. I could smell it in the air. So we had to get the truth out there. Big and hard. The truth about you. About Tharek, Chief Toscan, and Lannic. All of it.”

“It was the best choice,” Maresh said. “And it was the truth.”

Dayne sipped at his wine. Perhaps they were right. He couldn’t avoid infamy, not with what he had done.

“You protected us, fought for us,” Hemmit said. “Being your shield was the least we could do.”

“Isn’t that our way?” Jerinne asked.

Dayne looked to Jerinne, sitting with one crutch resting next to her, a good-humored smile hiding the guilt in her eyes. “It is, indeed. How’s your leg?”

“They tell me it’ll heal,” Jerinne said. “I’ll walk, even run.”

“And hold and stand?” Dayne asked.

“With shield on arm.”

“Good,” Dayne said. “I’d be proud to have you by my side.”

A server came and put a plate of lamb and crisp in front of Dayne. He hadn’t even ordered it.

“Compliments of the chef,” the server said.

“Could you get used to that?” Jerinne asked him.

“I better not,” Dayne said. “We don’t do what we do for the adulation.”

“But it’s nice,” Jerinne said.

“The man dines with noble ladies,” Enther said. “A free meal here is hardly spectacular.”

Dayne turned to Hemmit, holding up the book again. “I haven’t read this yet. You . . . you didn’t include Lady Mirianne in here at all, did you?”

“I included the truth, Dayne. I wrote what mattered. And if you ask me, the private matters between the two of you only matter to the two of you.”

“Thank you,” Dayne said. He had no idea what was going to happen between him and Lady Mirianne, in the next few days or over the following year, but he didn’t need the gossip and newssheets putting further pressure on it.

“No, thank you, Dayne,” Hemmit said. He raised his glass to Dayne, and the rest of the table did as well. “To Dayne, of the Tarian Order.”

Dayne raised his own glass once more and accepted the toast.

No matter what the future brought, this moment was all the acknowledgment he needed.