The morning after arriving in Four Roads, Treya visited the Three Orders chapter house. She found a familiar figure there in the front courtyard, directing refugees to different spots as a group of men worked at erecting a new shelter.

“Nallee?” Treya said to her friend. “What’s going on?”

“Treya!” Nallee said, embracing her. “The temples have run out of room, and the city council is worried about having younger children in the other shelters, so they’re building new ones here for families. There’s another out back that was finished yesterday. Oh, you shouldn’t be in Four Roads now; everything’s gone wrong!”

“I heard the dragon came to Springwater. Is everyone all right?”

Nallee sniffled. “At first, it just flew over us. That scared a lot of people off, but Patrig thought we should stay. He wants to run for mayor next year, and it wouldn’t look good if he abandoned the town. So we stayed. But then, just when everyone had gotten used to the dragon flying overhead, it landed right in the middle of town. It’s so big! It ate Mr. Jonson’s horse, and people started screaming. It turned to chase after them and it crashed into The Lady’s temple! It knocked the whole building down. That made it mad, I think. It roared, and then breathed out fire.” The concubine shivered, rubbing her arms. “It burned down most of the shops, and then the fire spread and got half the village. We tried to find the priests after, but they were both already dead. And four more people in the fires.”

“But you’re fine?” Treya asked. “And Patrig?”

“Yes, we made it out, and Patrig’s wife Deni. Our house was in the other direction, and the dragon left right after that. But they say once it shows up, it’ll keep coming back, so we convinced everyone else that it was time to go. We packed up what we could, but Patrig had to leave behind everything in the smithy. We’re just hoping no one steals it all while we’re gone. He’s back to working for the blacksmith he was apprenticed to here. When Mother Yewen found out I was in town, she asked me to help with the refugees.”

“Can I do anything?”

“I’ve got things handled here. We’re just giving people somewhere to wait while the men finish the shelter. Mother Yewen will know what you can …” Nallee trailed off, looking thoughtful. “Wait, is it true you’re a healing priest?”

“Yes. Is someone hurt?”

“Not out here, but inside. We turned the Great Hall into an infirmary. It was the only room large enough. The temples are too full of refugees, and the mayor wanted one spot where anyone could go if they were sick or injured, so all the healers are here now.”

“I should go in, then,” Treya said. “I’ll look for you later. The midday meal?”

“Sure, though I don’t know where it will be, what with the Great Hall full.” The hall was where the Sisters and students ate their meals.

Treya made her way into the chapter house, stopping to greet a few Sisters she remembered from her time there.

When she reached the Great Hall, she stopped and stared. There were dozens of people waiting for help. Some stood in line while others were sitting or lying on spare cots, tables, or piles of blankets on the floor. A few of the patients showed signs of apparent injury, wearing dirty bandages or leaning on crutches, while many others were coughing, evidently from some illness running through the town. Sister Merill, who’d become an herbalist rather than join one of the orders, was walking down the line, offering tea with honey to those who were coughing. Other herbalists roamed the hall, along with several chirurgeons and half a dozen priests. Sister Veda, a midwife, was on the far side of the room, kneeling next to a heavily pregnant woman as two students of the Orders assembled a privacy barrier around them using coat racks and blankets.

Treya stopped a priestess of The Lady, a pinch-faced woman with her gray hair pulled back in a severe braid.

“I’m a healer. How can I help?”

The woman looked her over. “See what you can do with that group,” she said, gesturing vaguely to a row of cots. “If you get tired, stop. And don’t waste your power on someone who doesn’t need it.”

Treya nodded and made her way over to the first cot, where a small child was bawling in his mother’s arms. She crouched down next to them. “What happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” the mother said. “He just started crying and won’t stop.”

Treya laid a glowing hand on the boy’s head. A simple ear infection—she recognized the signs from her time working in different almshouses and healing houses as she’d been traveling. She channeled a bit of energy and the boy’s sobs died down. He stared at her, still sniffling. He would have recovered fine on his own, or with willow bark tea, but it had only taken a trickle of power and Treya doubted the mother would have left the hall before her child had been take care of.

The next injury was worse, a broken leg. Treya needed the help of a hefty chirurgeon to snap the man’s bone back into place before she could heal it.

And then a woman, unconscious and pale, with a high fever. Her husband showed Treya a deep cut on the woman’s arm. “The wagon seat came loose,” he said. “She was helpin’ me fix it, but she slipped, and there was a sharp edge on the elbow spring.”

Why hadn’t anyone seen to the woman yet? The skin around the wound had already turned green. She would die if she wasn’t healed. Perhaps, under the circumstances, there was some excuse for the healers to not have noticed Harri’s broken arm, but how could they have missed this?

“I’ll take care of her,” Treya said. She guided healing magic throughout the patient’s body to eliminate the infection, then sealed the wound itself.

She stepped back, the glow fading from her hands. “She should be fine now, but wait here with her. We’ll see if she wakes up on her own.”

The man nodded, his eyes wide. “Th … thank you.”

Treya found the nearest priestess, a follower of Demesis in a blue and green robe.

“Why didn’t anyone heal that woman?” Treya asked, her voice pitched low so the husband wouldn’t overhear. “The infection was in her blood!”

The young priestess goggled back at her. “I … Miss? We can only do so much. We’ve been here for hours.” The woman’s eyes were bloodshot, surrounded by dark circles.

Treya took another look around the Great Hall. None of the priests were using healing magic, either drained for the day or saving it for an emergency. Instead, they were changing bandages, checking on fevers, or aiding the herbalists.

Four Roads was a town which normally only held thirty thousand residents, and even in good times, there weren’t enough healers to help everyone. The temples mostly healed those who could pay, doing just enough charity work to alleviate their guilt. There was no way these few priests could keep up with the influx of ten thousand refugees from the south, many of them sick or injured.

They needed help. Not just another helping hand, but real help.

Treya stepped back and thrust her arms out to her sides, concentrating as she cast the healing spell she’d learned in Tir Yadar.

Pulses of light washed over the room, one after another, centered on Treya and echoing outward in concentric circles, each pulse helping to rejuvenate anyone it touched. Everyone stopped what they were doing to stare at her in shock. Each pulse held only a tiny bit of healing magic, but they kept coming, and soon they started to have an effect. The coughing gradually faded, and some of the patients who’d been sitting or lying down now climbed to their feet, startled looks on their faces.

The pulsing spell wouldn’t be enough on its own, though. Treya dismissed it, then strode along the nearest row of makeshift cots, looking for anyone who wasn’t showing any signs of improvement. Her healing senses worked best by touch, and as she reached each patient, she laid her hand on their head or shoulder to identify the problem. She healed those that needed it, eliminating sickness and infection, repairing broken bone and torn muscle, knitting flesh back together.

She made her way through the entire hall, healing one person after another, ending at the pregnant woman. Treya stopped just long enough to confirm that mother and child were both healthy.

When she was done, she found all the healers and herbalists still staring at her.

She had to say something.

“Sister Merill,” she called out, “can you station one of your students by the entrance?”

The old woman squinted, taking in Treya’s mystic outfit. “Do I know you?”

“I lived here some years ago. Now, one of your students, please? We need to separate out the serious cases as they come in, the way the big healing houses in the city do it.”

“Oh, yes, of course. We meant to, but there were just so many people.”

“We should have some time now.” Treya raised her voice so all the healers could hear. “Are there any other injured at the temples or the shelters?”

“Yes,” said a dark-haired, bearded man wearing the black robes of a priest of Pallisur. “Most are at the temple of Demesis, or at the big shelter at the south end of town.”

“Who is taking care of them?”

“The unblessed priests and a few herbalists mostly. We go out to check on them after our shifts are over.”

“Any that can be safely moved, start bringing them here in small groups. If there are any that can’t be moved, take me to them, the most severely injured first. I don’t know how much more I can do today, but let’s find out.”

#

Corec peered into the Great Hall. “It seems quiet,” he said. It wasn’t like the chaos Treya had described from the day before.

“We’ve got things under control at the moment, but we can’t keep up with this pace,” Treya replied. “There are too many refugees with nowhere else to go. Too many people in town. And nobody’s talking about it yet, but food will be a problem if this goes on for too long. Four Roads exports crops; it doesn’t import. A lot of the local farming is done to the south, and the shops in town will run low before winter’s over. And even if we talk to the trading houses about redirecting shipments, will any caravans be able to make it here if the dragon’s getting closer?”

“What, exactly, are you asking for?” Ellerie said.

“We’ve got to do something!”

“We will,” Corec said, “but we can’t afford to feed everyone.” Their short time in Dalewood had been costly, and if they kept on spending the way they had, there wouldn’t be any money left to defend against an attack from Prince Rusol. “And like you said, the problem is more about getting the shipments sent here than about the money.”

Treya was quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance. “If you go north, I can’t go with you. They need me here.”

“I understand, and I’m not sure we should head north right now anyway. Not until we figure out a way to help.”

“We just need things to go back to normal,” Treya said. “The town can’t handle this. If the refugees could return home … most of their homes haven’t been destroyed. They’re still there, waiting. Everyone had laid in their winter supplies. There are grain silos, cattle ranches, winter crops. We just have to be able to get to them.”

“You know there’s only one way that’s going to happen,” Ellerie said. “Someone has to deal with the dragon.”

Corec nodded. “We need to find out if there’s help on the way, or if the town council is hiring mercenaries. If not, we’ll have to hire them ourselves.” There was more to it, but he wanted to give everyone time to come to the realization on their own.

“Can we afford that?” Treya asked.

“Better than we can afford to feed thousands of refugees for months, but it’ll use up most of the coin we were saving to defend ourselves against Rusol. We’ll all have to contribute more, and Sarette and I don’t have much left.” Sarette had used much of her share to purchase one of the enchanted staff-spears from Tir Yadar. Corec had bought the other, hoping to deliver it to Snow Crown someday to make up for the sword he’d taken from them.

“We’ll figure that out when the time comes,” Ellerie said. “We need to take care of the immediate problem first. Besides, maybe there’s help on the way already.”

An elderly woman approached from down the hall. “Treya, are these the friends you told me about?”

“Yes, Mother Yewen. This is Corec of House Tarwen—you met him once before, after we hunted down the drakes. And this is Lady Ellerie di’Valla of Terevas. Ellerie, Mother Yewen is in charge of the Four Roads chapter house.”

Ellerie raised an eyebrow at the formal titles, but Corec wasn’t surprised. Treya had been nudging him to take on more of a leadership role in the region once they found a place to settle down. Publicly proclaiming his relation to a noble house was one way to speed up the process.

He and Ellerie greeted the woman.

“I’m afraid you chose a poor time to visit Four Roads,” Mother Yewen said. “There’s so much chaos. It’s normally more peaceful.”

“I live here,” Corec told her. “Off and on at least, for the last eight years.” Four Roads was as close to a home as he’d had since leaving Larso.

“Ahh, then you can see how much things have changed.”

“What’s the town going to do about it?” Ellerie asked. “Have they made any plans to deal with the dragon?”

“The mayor has written for help, but right now, we’re all just hoping the dragon doesn’t make it all the way to Four Roads. Now, Treya tells me you helped out with the refugees in Dalewood?”

“We did what we could, but it wasn’t much,” Corec said. “We were only there for a day. Most of the aid will be coming from the city. What sort of help do you need?”

Before the woman could answer, they were interrupted. “Heya, Mother Yewen. We found more families for you.” It was a man’s voice—one that Corec recognized, though it took him a moment to place it. It had been a long time.

Yewen turned to the two armored men. “You boys are back, I see. I didn’t realize you were gone until the cooks told me we had food left over after the meals.” Despite her stern expression, her tone was fond.

The men took in the rest of the group and then stopped in shock. “Corec!” Kevik exclaimed.

“Hey, Kev, Trentin.” Corec wasn’t sure what to say after that. The two men had been his friends once, but they were knights of Pallisur and he was a mage. He’d never had a chance to say goodbye to them—the priests had kept the other trainees away from him after the initial accusation, as if magic was somehow contagious.

They didn’t seem to know what to do at first either, but then Kevik laughed and strode forward, clasping Corec’s forearm with one hand and clapping his back with the other. Trentin held back.

“It’s been a long time,” Kevik said. “What have you been up to?”

“Caravan guard for a while,” Corec said. “Now, well, whatever needs doing.” He certainly couldn’t mention he was preparing for an attack by the king of Larso.

“That was stupid, them kicking you out,” Trentin said, coming forward. “Hi, Corec.”

“Yeah,” Kevik said. “Just because you can use magic doesn’t mean you would. That cousin of yours, Sir Jesson, tried to get the decision reversed, but nothing ever came of it.”

Corec shrugged. “It was probably for the best. I couldn’t control it back then, and now, I wouldn’t want to change how things turned out. I don’t like the idea of the Church telling me what to do.”

Kevik chewed on his lip for a moment. “I can see that, I suppose. Some of the priests are complete dullards.” Trentin winced and glanced around, as if worried they’d be overheard.

Corec grinned, then introduced Treya and Ellerie to the two knights, this time leaving off Ellerie’s title.

“A pleasure to meet you both, ladies,” Kevik said with a smooth bow.

“A pleasure,” Trentin repeated.

“What are you two doing in Four Roads?” Corec asked.

“We were patrolling the southeast hills for bandits when the dragon showed up out of nowhere,” Kevik said. “We were far enough north that Four Roads was closer than Hightower, so we came here, and now we can’t go back that way. We’ve made five trips to escort refugees in.”

“Do you need any help with that?”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to go out again. The dragon followed us for two or three miles this last time.”

Trentin shook his head. “I don’t know what anyone expects us to do if it actually attacks us along the way, but the people seem happier to have us along. I guess we can keep them from being robbed, at least.”

“Are the knights going after the dragon?” Corec asked.

“I don’t know,” Kevik said. “I sent messages, but I haven’t heard anything yet.”

Corec considered that. The biggest problem with the plan to hire mercenaries was that there weren’t likely to be enough of them in Four Roads—and certainly not ones who’d trained to fight dragons.

“How many men do you have here?” he asked. “Soldiers and knights?”

“Hell, Corec, we were just hunting bandits. We didn’t even know the dragon was a problem when we left the fort. I only brought one squad, and there’s just the six of us left—I sent Sir Hordin to Telfort in case the pigeon messages don’t make it through.”

No soldiers, and just one squadron of knights. It wouldn’t be enough on its own … but that was six men trained in the use of siege equipment. It was better than nothing.

It wasn’t time to bring that up, though. Not without more information.

“You made squadron commander already?” Corec said instead.

“Squadron commander in the ass end of nowhere,” Kevik said. “The senior knights must hate me.”

Trentin covered up a snicker, suggesting there might be some truth to that statement.

“Where are you staying?” Corec asked them.

“Mother Yewen found rooms for us here.” Kevik gave an exaggerated wink. “I think the old woman likes me.”

He’d pitched that last part loud enough for Yewen to overhear. She just shook her head and wagged a finger at him.

“We’re not allowed to talk to the girls, though,” Trentin added. “As if we could afford concubines.”

“That’s why you’re not allowed to talk to them, young man,” Yewen said. “Now, since you boys are back early, you made it in time for this week’s council meeting. You should be there.” She turned to Treya. “You three as well.”

Kevik nodded. “It can’t hurt to show up,” he told Corec. “We’ll at least find out how much worse things have gotten over the past week. Mother Yewen or I can get you in.”

#

The town council was holding its meetings in, of all places, a converted milch cow barn. The council’s normal meeting chamber wasn’t large enough for everyone who’d needed to attend since the crisis had begun. The barn’s stalls had been removed and the place had been cleaned, but there was still a faint scent of hay and manure.

It turned out that Mother Yewen held a seat on the council, and she joined the other councilors at a long table on the side of the barn farthest from the wide doors.

Two dozen mismatched chairs had been set out in neat rows facing the council table, but it wasn’t nearly enough for everyone. Most of the crowd remained standing. Kevik introduced Corec and his friends to those he knew. There were shopkeepers and farmers, town guards, priests, and citizens who’d volunteered to help run the shelters. The bulk of the crowd, though, consisted of refugees representing each of the villages that had been evacuated.

Corec and his friends found a spot to stand along the side wall, allowing them to see the council without having their view blocked by the other attendees.

The mayor stood and called the meeting to order. “Let’s start with an update on the shelters, the evacuees, and supplies,” he said.

That led to over twenty minutes of dry numbers being bandied about by Mother Yewen, the priests, and others. By the time it was over, the crowd was shifting restlessly.

“What about the dragon?” someone finally called out. “How close is it?” Several others shouted in agreement.

Sammel held his palms out in front of himself for silence. “The dragon came to Springwater six days ago, and it’s been seen flying over Low Sands and Demon’s Crook.”

“Two miles north of Demon’s Crook!” Kevik called out. “We saw it yesterday.”

Judging by the worried whispers, that came as news to almost everyone in the room.

Mayor Sammel waited for the noise to die down. “Springwater has been evacuated,” he said, “along with most farms and ranches west of there, as far as the hills. East of Springwater, many of the homes are abandoned, but the people didn’t come here. We can only hope they made it to Dalewood. Sir Kevik, do you have any news on the evacuations?”

“We’ve done what we can,” Kevik said. “Anyone north of Low Sands is close enough to make their way here on their own. And some people are refusing to leave their homes. Maybe they’ll be lucky.”

“What about Four Roads?” one of the townsfolk asked. “Is the dragon coming here?”

“We don’t know,” the mayor replied. “We hope it won’t.”

Quietly, so only his friends could hear, Corec said, “It doesn’t matter whether it makes it this far or not. The dragon will avoid the town itself, but that’s not going to help if Four Roads is trying to take care of thousands of refugees.”

Kevik nodded. “And hatchlings are smaller,” he murmured. “I don’t know if they’d stay out of cities the way a full-size dragon would.”

“Are there hatchlings?”

“No one’s managed to get close enough to see.”

A woman with a tear-streaked face pushed her way to the front of the crowd. “What about Larso or Matagor?” she said. “Won’t they send help?”

“I sent pigeons,” the mayor said. “Matagor didn’t respond. Larso … a reply came from someone called Field Marshal Tregood, saying Larso won’t interfere in the sovereignty of the free lands. It was sent under the king’s seal. The new king, I suppose.”

“Cowards!” a man yelled, turning toward Kevik and Trentin. And Corec, who was standing right next to them. “The knights are cowards!”

The crowd turned angry eyes on them, but were then distracted when someone shouted out another question for the mayor. “What about Tyrsall?”

“I didn’t …” Sammel started, then thought better of it. “I can try.”

But Corec understood why he hadn’t sent a pigeon east. Tyrsall didn’t keep troops on the borders the way Larso and Matagor did, and unlike Larso, they didn’t have a standing army. The message would have to reach the king, who would have to order the Duke of the West to marshal the western barons’ personal guardsmen. Any help would be months away, and that was if Tyrsall was even interested in helping.

“We’ve got to do it,” Treya said, keeping her voice pitched low as the mayor argued with the refugees.

“Do what?” Kevik asked.

Corec nodded. “What do you think?” he asked Ellerie.

“We’re not just hiring mercenaries, are we?” she said.

“And leave them to fend for themselves?” Corec said, finally admitting what he’d known all along. “It would be a slaughter if we’re not there to help them.”

“Can we do it?”

“It’ll cost a lot, but if there’s no help coming, what other choice is there? Evacuate Four Roads itself and leave the free lands to the dragon? Where would everyone go?”

She nodded.

“Will you tell us what you’re talking about?” Kevik said.

“Do you remember our lessons on dragon-hunting?” Corec asked the two knights.

Kevik gave him a suspicious look. “I remember that it takes a whole lot more men than we’ve got here. And a lot more equipment.”

“We can afford men and equipment, but I need trained soldiers who know how to fight dragons and how to operate siege weapons.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Can you work alongside mages?” Corec said. “We won’t be able to do this without magic.”

“The others aren’t going to like that,” Trentin warned. “Especially if they find out King Rusol turned down the request for aid.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know, Corec. I could lose my knighthood for this. Do you have any idea how long it took my father to save up enough to get me in?”

“We haven’t actually received any orders telling us not to help,” Kevik pointed out. “And we don’t fall under the field marshal’s command. Even if they send us orders to return, it wouldn’t count as disobeying if we stop along the way to take care of something.”

Trentin barked a short laugh. “Take care of something?”

“You don’t have to go with us, Trentin, but you could help train the men on the equipment,” Corec said.

Trentin sighed. “Never mind. I’m in. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” Corec turned to Kevik. “What about the rest of your men?”

“I don’t know. Willem, maybe. I’m not sure about the others. They’ve all heard your name, but they don’t know you. To them, you’re just the trainee who was exiled after disgracing the Order.”

Corec tried to not let his reaction show. Was that how the knights thought of him?

“Three will have to be enough,” he said.

He met Treya’s and Ellerie’s eyes once again. They both nodded.

There was a lull in the argument between the council and the refugees.

“We’ll handle the dragon!” Corec called out. He waited until everyone had turned to face him. “We’ll handle the dragon! But we’ll need help!”

Mayor Sammel peered their way. “I recognize you. You’re the one who killed those drakes last year. Corec, right?”

“Corec Tarwen of House Tarwen, of Larso.” Corec allowed his voice to ring around the room. Sometimes people just needed to hear a confident tone.

“You’re one of the knights?”

“No, but I hope they’ll ride with me. And I’ll need your help, too.”

The mayor exchanged glances with the rest of the council. “What sort of help?”

“I need men and equipment. Ballistae, catapults, and I can show you how to build them. Nets, chains, crossbows, wagons and carts, mules. I’ll pay what I can, you pay what you can. And I need trained fighters and soldiers. We’ll pay five silver a day until the dragon’s dead. If we’re successful, a bonus of ten gold to each man!”

If that didn’t do it, nothing would.