The imperial palace, formally known as Sun and Sea, was just a short walk across the main plaza from the Sanvara City Travelers’ Post. The palace’s outer buildings were short, only one or two stories tall, to support the uneven architecture meant to represent ocean waves, but in the center of it all rose the Sun Tower. The spherical mirror at the top loomed over everything else in the city, reflecting the afternoon sun.

From a distance, the tower appeared to be a thin needle rising into the sky, but up close, it was huge. The lowest section was as wide around as the entire fortress Leena’s friends had taken over in the free lands, with the upper levels growing progressively smaller.

It was to the Sun Tower that Leena was directed after presenting the summons she’d received. At the tower, she had to hand over the invitation again, this time to the guards at the main entrance.

“Leena of the Zidari Matihar camp,” one of them said, glancing over the paperwork. “I haven’t seen you here before. Clan tattoo?”

It took her a moment to realize what he was asking. The Zidari preferred not to show their tattoos to outsiders.

He sensed her hesitation and rolled up his own sleeve, exposing a tattoo with three circles of decreasing size, linked in a row. The mark that all Zidari wore.

But Zidari weren’t warriors. How had he come to serve in the Imperial Guard? It wouldn’t be polite to ask.

She pulled up her left sleeve to show her matching tattoo.

The guard nodded. “You may pass. A page will show you to the afternoon tea room.”

The tea room proved to be two-thirds of the way up the tower, on the tenth floor. It was a long but skinny chamber with a single small table and two chairs set precisely in the center. A series of tile mosaics hung along the inner wall, while the curved outer wall held wide glass windows looking out across the eastern half of the city. Glass windows were rare in Sanvar due to the heat. At this time of day, the sun was on the other side of the building, but in the morning, the room would be unbearably hot.

A serving girl entered through a hidden entrance between two mosaics. She set a tea tray on the table, then left again without saying a word.

Then an elderly woman came through a door opposite the one Leena had used. Empress Shereen’s face was lined with age and her hair was completely white, but she still walked with ease. She wore pale blue robes of state trimmed with gold. The loose, flowing sleeves gaped open when she moved, showing skin-tight inner sleeves that covered her arms all the way to the wrist. A Zidari-style robe, though not uncommon amongst the other clans.

Leena realized she had no idea what to do. She’d assumed there’d be others present who could provide guidance. She attempted a clumsy curtsey—it wasn’t something she’d ever had to learn before.

The empress shook her head. “The Zidari should never genuflect to me, child,” she said in a melodic voice. “Come. We’ll have tea and talk. Rohav has told me much about you.”

“Y … yes, Your, umm, Your Majesty?”

“If that’s how you’d like to address me,” Shereen said, taking a seat at the table. She gestured to the other chair.

Leena hurried over and poured the tea for them both, worried the empress might otherwise do it herself. Finished, she sat down, staring at her porcelain cup, not sure what to say.

Shereen took a sip. “Jasmine,” she said, “from the Sebin region. One of the areas infested by the snake cult, but they make a good tea. Your uncle tells me we have you to thank for the progress we’ve made against them.”

“All I did was ask for help,” Leena said, uncomfortable with the praise. “My friends did the fighting, them and the other Travelers.”

Shereen acknowledged that with a nod. “We can’t all be warriors, can we? I find these cultists troubling. Those who are left, the ones we captured, they are … uneducated, naive, easily misled. I have hopes they can be returned to society. It’s the others I’m worried about, the ones who escaped. The Seeker you captured claimed they were after you, but why?” Her gaze was intense.

“I don’t know,” Leena said. “The ones we took alive were just mercenaries—no one told them anything important.” If Rohav hadn’t mentioned the bracelet to the empress, Leena wasn’t going to bring it up. She wasn’t sure it was the reason anyway, and she still needed it to protect her brother. Somehow. She couldn’t risk the chance that the other woman might insist she hand it over.

“Yet you believe it enough that you’ll attempt to draw the cultists north?” Shereen asked.

“With the Seeker captured, I don’t know if they have any way to find me, but until we know for sure, it didn’t seem wise to stay in one place. Not in my family’s camp, at least. In the free lands, my friends have taken over an old fortress and are working to repair it. If the cult comes again, we’ll be ready for them.”

“You don’t believe we can protect you in Sanvar?”

“The Zidari don’t learn to fight, and if I stayed in the city, the cult could just blend in and wait until I was alone somewhere. In the free lands, we’ll be able to see them coming.”

“Your logic is sound, but with their Seeker captured, I’d be surprised if the cultists make it that far north. We need a better way to find them.” The empress shook her head. “That’s not your problem. What I really want to know about are these wardens. Are they trustworthy?”

What had Rohav told her?

“I’m not sure,” Leena said. “I trust Corec, but I don’t know much about the others. Except King Rusol—he’s tried to kill Corec several times, and I think he tried to capture me when I was stranded in Telfort.”

As for the rest, Leena hadn’t spent enough time around Hildra to form an opinion. Yelena had sent Sarlo to gain Leena’s trust, likely in an attempt to recruit her. Leena was uncomfortable with the idea, but was there anything truly sinister about it? All of the wardens were secretive in their own ways. Sarlo had never lied, and he’d hinted to her about what Yelena could offer and what she’d ask for in return. It was no different than what Leena was doing for Corec.

“King Rusol?” the empress asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. “The new king of Pallisur’s chosen land is a mage?”

“He is,” Leena said, then stopped to consider the idea. “Or that’s what I was told. I haven’t seen it for myself.” The only real indication they had that Rusol was a mage and a warden had come from Razai. The demonborn woman was a friend, but she wasn’t Corec’s friend. Could she have been lying to him for some unknown reason of her own? The wardens weren’t the only ones with secrets.

“That would be a dangerous game he’s playing, if true,” Shereen said, lightly tapping her fingertips against her cheek. “A matter for another day, and perhaps for the Seers. Let’s not get distracted. Do you know why the Zidari mages are asked not to work outside Sanvar?”

“For our safety?” Leena said. Being approached by both Rusol’s and Yelena’s agents in such a short period of time had proven the rules were there for a reason.

“Broadly, yes,” Shereen said. “Zidari magic is more dangerous than we let on, but anyone who takes a moment to think about it should begin to understand the ramifications. This sort of magic isn’t limited to just your clan—certain wizards have managed to learn similar spells—but the Zidari provide a concentrated mastery of some of the most powerful magics in the world.”

Leena didn’t know how to respond. Was the empress going to ask her to return to Sanvar? She’d seemed to approve of the idea of drawing the snake cult north.

Shereen took a sip of her tea. “Your clan is Sanvar’s greatest asset, and not just for your magic. The zi-Dari were the first clan to come to these shores and make alliances, and the empire wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for your history with the lizardfolk tribes. Yet, if too many outsiders learn of your abilities, they could become jealous—or frightened—of what the Zidari might do to them. If they learn of your abilities and they’re aware of your presence in their kingdoms, they could set a trap. An arrow can strike before you’re aware of the bowman, and a scrying ward can block even a Traveler’s abilities.”

“I don’t understand,” Leena said. “What would you like me to do?”

The empress stood and walked to the nearest window, peering down at the city below. “Sanvar is the largest nation in Aravor, but Tyrsall has surpassed us in trade, despite our more advantageous location. We’ve been focused inward for too long, with too much squabbling amongst the clans and too many little wars with the lizardfolk and the dwarves. Before your clan was attacked, I was considering ways to extend our influence outward. Traveling is the most well known of the Zidari magics, and the least frightening to outsiders. We don’t have enough strong Travelers to expand our network outside of Sanvar, and we have no way to protect your kin outside our borders, but I’d hoped to find a solution. Then, of course, the Traveler families were attacked, and I had to give up on my plan … until Rohav told me of the wardens.”

“You want to know if the wardens would protect Travelers’ Posts in the north?” Leena asked.

“Partly, but your uncle said you told him that being linked to a warden would strengthen your magic. Is that true?”

“That’s what I was told, though for me, I needed control more than strength. But I don’t think there are enough wardens to do what you want, even if they can be trusted. There are only eight in the world, and they can each only bond eight other mages. I think most have already bonded all they can.”

“Ahh, I see,” Shereen said, a disappointed expression crossing her face. “Perhaps my ideas will have to wait for my granddaughter’s reign, when the Travelers have grown strong once again.”

That gave Leena an idea. “I can still take messages to the north and back. I’m going there anyway. I visit Tyrsall regularly, and Aencyr in Cordaea. I could expand that.”

“Delivering messages is safe enough if they don’t know you’re coming—the other Travelers already do that from time to time—but arranging to pick up the replies is a risk.”

“I’ll look for people we can trust. Senshall Trading Company in Tyrsall already asked to hire me. I turned them down, but I’m sure they’d be interested even if I could only stop there once each week. I’ll bring any messages they have for Sanvar, and if they have something for Matagor or Circle Bay …” Leena shrugged. “I can make arrangements so that I’m not in any danger. The person I visit in Aencyr is a warden, and Corec is at that fortress in the free lands. Those spots should be safe enough.”

The empress turned to a globe resting on a table behind her and ran her fingers over the continent of Aravor.

“It’s not what I envisioned,” she said. “It’s such a small scale—if only a few people know of it, then we’re not extending Sanvar’s influence among potential trading partners.”

“They don’t need a full Travelers’ Post,” Leena said. “They make more use of messenger pigeons and couriers in the north. But if I just took their most urgent messages once a week, it would be an improvement over what they do now.”

Shereen nodded. “And speeding up communication between Sanvar and the north is the important part of the plan. If you already have the appropriate contacts, you may make the attempt. It’s not what I had in mind, but it might be the start of something bigger, and we would be at the heart of it. I just wish we had more Travelers strong enough to go long distances. I’ve suggested using weaker Travelers on the shorter routes to free up the cadre for the more intensive trips, but your associates are reluctant to admit they can’t handle the work.”

Leena wasn’t sure whether her next suggestion was a good idea, but she offered it anyway. “There’s a warden in Tyrsall who goes by the name Yelena. A year ago, she was trying to recruit a Traveler. She might still be looking for one.”

“Oh? You know this Yelena? You can put me in touch with her?”

“I don’t know her personally, but I know where to find her. Right now, she works for Duke Voss of Tyrsall, but she told Corec she’s planning to move to Sanvara City soon.”

“Well, then,” Shereen said, “I’ll have to have a talk with her once she arrives.”

Could Yelena be trusted? Could the empress? Luckily, Leena wouldn’t have to answer those questions—the two women were experienced enough to look out for their own interests. If Yelena and Shereen came to a compromise, both of them could get what they wanted.

And if everything worked out, Leena might get the empress’s blessing to remain in the north for as long as she wished.

#

Ariadne held up her small hand mirror and stared at the sigil on her brow, glowing with a pale blue light. The wrong shade of blue, in the form of two interlocking circles side-by-side.

Who’d done it? Why?

She had to be missing some obvious clue, she thought. There was a reason why she’d been bonded, and if she could just figure out what that reason was, it would all make sense.

So far, the only idea she’d had was that someone wanted an agent near Corec, but how would that work? Whoever it was had no way to communicate with her and no reason to believe she’d do as they wished.

Sighing, she hid the sigil once more and banished her mage light, plunging the tent back into pre-dawn darkness.

She now had two mysteries to solve. The first was as elusive as ever. What had happened to the Chosar? She’d accepted that she wasn’t going to find her people alive, but she still needed to learn what had happened—she had to know the reason for their disappearance.

Perhaps she’d find some new clue in Snow Crown when she accompanied Sarette to the other woman’s homeland. The stormborn acted much like the Chosar, if Sarette’s stories were anything to go by, and their traditions and knowledge were supposedly passed down from Borrisur. Or, rather, Boreas.

And while the stormborn behaved like the Chosar, the seaborn looked like them, if shorter and more muscular.

Those were the most direct connections Ariadne had found, though they weren’t the only ones. Judging by her discussions with Ellerie about elven magic, the nilvasta likely had a small amount of Chosar blood running through their veins. And the dwarven people built underground cities, though that link was tenuous—only a few of the Tirs had been constructed fully below ground.

Perhaps the reason why there were so many clues pointing in different directions was that The People had joined with other bloodlines until their descendents were unrecognizable. Ariadne wasn’t sure whether that outcome was better or worse than any of the others she’d imagined.

Then a new thought occurred to her. What if the two mysteries were related?

Why had the unknown warden bonded her? Why not Bobo, or some other random mage? What if they’d bonded her because she was Chosar? That made as much sense as anything else.

And it meant that while she might not be able to find the warden directly, maybe she could do so indirectly. Discovering the fate of the Chosar could very well lead her to the person who’d bonded her. Was it a scholar researching the ancient past? Or a secret Chosar warden who’d been chosen after the ritual but before The People disappeared?

Whatever the answer, she wouldn’t learn it today, and she was wasting time with her musings. She donned her armor and left the tent, finding a faint sliver of light dawning in the west. Most of the camp was still asleep, but here and there, the refugees they were escorting back to their homes had risen and were preparing cooking fires.

Ariadne strolled out of the camp, passing a watch patrol on the way and giving the two men a quick wave. They were used to her comings and goings.

Once she was out of sight of the tents, she looked around for a wide, flat area large enough for what she needed. She’d learned to hold her practice sessions in private. If she didn’t, the children from the camp would follow and watch, seemingly fascinated by the bits of magic she displayed. She had to track them constantly with her elder senses to make sure they didn’t come too close to her blade. It was easier to practice before they woke, far enough away that they weren’t likely to find her.

After finding a good spot, she drew her blade and infused it with flame. The spell came to her more easily than ever, likely due to the warden bond. How had she not realized it before? Her elder magic had always been incredibly weak. The fact that she’d summoned two infusions at once in Dalewood should have been a giveaway. It meant she’d been bonded before that—likely in Tyrsall, or even earlier.

Ariadne might not know the mysterious warden’s intentions, but she intended to make use of the gift she’d been given. That meant she needed to practice. Once her elder magic had been deemed practically useless, her training as a Mage Knight had focused on arcane magic. She would have to make up for lost time.

She held her sword up in a ready position, then slashed down at an angle, as if striking an opponent between his armor and helm. Step back, parry, two steps forward, thrust.

Despite the flame, the sword moved as she was accustomed to. She could feel the heat, but the spell wouldn’t burn her hands as long as she kept them around the hilt. She just had to be cautious not to touch the blade until she’d discharged the infusion, though her mirrorsteel armor would block the worst of it.

Letting the sword dip down, she touched the tip of the blade to a fist-sized stone half-buried in the dirt. The flames disappeared as the energy was discharged, leaving a scorch mark on the rock.

Hitting someone with a flaming sword would have been useless on its own, except as a way to frighten them. Fire didn’t burn quickly enough for a momentary strike to have any effect. Infusion spells solved that problem by releasing all their power at once.

Lightning was the easiest to infuse—it wanted to transfer all of its energy in an instant, at a single point of contact. Flame and frost were more difficult. They had to be coaxed into behaving differently than normal. It was an odd sensation. Elder magic was more primal and less regimented than the arcane magic with which Ariadne had trained.

She had no idea how Sarette did what she did. Stormrunners infused their weapons like a Mage Knight or an elementalist would, but they also seemed to infuse themselves, slowly draining power from the infusion as they used it to fly, leap long distances, or strengthen their bodies against jarring landings. Had Boreas developed those techniques back in Ariadne’s day, or was it a newer invention?

Leaving her blade touching the stone, Ariadne infused it with frost, discharged it, then followed it up with flame again. The rock cracked in two from the rapid changes in temperature.

Three infusions in close succession, strong enough to actually have an effect. It was more than she’d ever managed before. How far could she take it? She closed her eyes and imagined an elemental shield floating in front of her. It wouldn’t block an attack, but it carried an infusion spell which would discharge against any weapon—or body—that struck it.

Nothing happened, and Ariadne could feel a faint headache coming on. The shield required more power than she could muster.

When she opened her eyes, Boktar was waiting for her. She’d been so intent on the spell that she’d forgotten to keep watch with her elder senses.

“Hey, Ariadne, the Oak Hollow group asked for an armed escort to get the rest of the way home,” he said. “Will you go with them?”

“Are you expecting trouble?” she asked.

“I doubt it—bandits and hillfolk raiders aren’t likely to have come this far east so soon after the dragon died—but there’s always a chance some opportunistic thief is looting the empty villages. It won’t hurt to provide a little protection.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“Oak Hollow’s five miles off the main road. If you ride, you should catch up to us by nightfall. Take Nedley with you—he could use the experience.”

Ariadne raised an eyebrow. “Is Nedley accompanying me, or am I accompanying him?”

Boktar shrugged. “You’re in charge, but the Oak Hollow folks will be happier if there’s a man along. Humans can be backwards sometimes, especially way out here.”

She nodded—she’d seen the looks the refugees gave her. At least the armsmen no longer looked at her that way. She’d fought alongside them, and she’d been one of the first to rush the dragon, so they considered her to be one of them now. She’d even accepted one of the dragon-tooth necklaces, though she had yet to wear it.

“Dwarves don’t have that problem?” she asked.

“No,” Boktar said flatly. “My mother would never allow it. Her or the other family heads.”

“Women are in charge in Stone Home?”

“The government is evenly split between men and women, but the heads of the families are mostly women. They make a lot of the decisions.” Boktar shook his head. “Including marriage, which is why I don’t go home much. My mother’s old-fashioned.”

Ariadne had heard enough hints about that to know it was a touchy subject, but if he was going to be talkative, she might as well try some other questions. He rarely spoke about his past.

“There are mages in Stone Home, right?” she asked. “Like Hildra?”

“We have wizards, sure,” Boktar said. “And I suppose the stonemasters must be mages, but no one ever calls them that. They can walk through solid stone, or reshape it.”

“Like a shaping wizard?” Ariadne asked. “Or like an elder mage?” She wasn’t sure how closely related the dwarves in Stone Home were to those in Bancyra, but Hildra was an arcane mage while her sister was an elder mage. It was unusual to see both magics in the same family. Unusual outside the Chosar, at least, or certain hybrid bloodlines.

“I don’t know about that,” Boktar said. “The stonemasters keep to themselves.” He frowned. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.” It seemed he was done being talkative.

Ariadne stood. “I’ll go let Nedley know we’re leaving as soon as the Oak Hollow group is ready to go.”

She’d learned enough for now. Boktar might not have the answers she needed, but she could search for records about the stonemasters. If they were elder mages, it was one more clue, one more possible connection. Her search might take years, but every piece brought her closer to the truth.

#

The small town of Wellspring lay along the Trade Road in a wide valley that cut through the hills just east of the Black Crow Mountains. This close to the border, the locals were a mix of hillfolk, freelanders, and Larsonians.

Razai’s new disguise, a Larsonian farmer named Nevin, fit right in as long as no one looked too closely at the quality of the horse she was riding. She’d been using her Aden disguise too much lately, and in any case, it always felt wrong to speak with a western accent while wearing the Aden illusion. He was an easterner.

A group of rough-looking men were loitering outside the first tavern she came to. They gave her suspicious glares as she neared, so she passed on by. They wanted to hassle her, not cause any real harm, but Razai wasn’t in the mood for a scuffle if she couldn’t fight back.

She settled for the next tavern along the main road, leaving her horse and pack mule tied to the hitching post outside.

“Whiskey,” she told the barkeep. “Just give me the bottle.”

The man ran a skeptical eye over the grungy clothing the Nevin disguise was wearing. “Money first,” he said.

She slipped him five coppers, more than enough for any bottle of whiskey this place might sell. He passed the bottle over wordlessly, then ignored her as he went back to wiping down glasses with a dirty rag.

A group of boisterous men with hillfolk accents came in, half drunk already. “Hey, Borty, didja hear the news?” one of them said. “That Corec Tarwen feller that went after the dragon managed to kill it, he did. Guess you can quit worryin’ ‘bout it comin’ here.”

Razai listened in, pretending to only be interested in her bottle. Corec had defeated the dragon? Certainly not by himself.

The barkeep grunted. “Don’t like the Tarwens. The old baron ran me out of their valley just because I weren’t from there. Don’t need his kin comin’ over the border.”

One of the other men laughed. “Your own mother ran you out of the house too, Borty. But no, we don’t need any Larso sprigs here. We coulda just sent you to kill the dragon instead. You still got that rusty old sword behind the counter?”

Borty scowled at them. “Either order something or get out.”

“Ales all around, then, in celebration of stupid arses that go fightin’ dragons so decent folk don’t have to.”

The hillfolk men lined the bar, jostling Razai out of the way. She clamped down on her usual reaction to being touched—the men were rowdy and drunk, but not malicious—and used the opportunity to move to a table. She continued listening, but it seemed they didn’t know anything more than what they’d already said. They were more interested in drinking and joking than in gossip.

Razai was intent enough on their conversation that she didn’t notice someone new enter the tavern until the customers all grew quiet, staring.

Leena looked wildly out of place with her southern complexion and her bright yellow dress. She glanced around the common room, puzzled, until her eyes settled on Razai. She made her way over.

“Razai?” she said.

“Yes!” Razai hissed, eyeing the crowd at the bar to see if they’d taken any notice, but they’d returned to poking fun at the barkeep. “Keep quiet! What are you doing here?”

The Sanvari woman sat down across from her. “Corec was worried about why it was taking you so long to return, but you didn’t stay in any one place for long and he didn’t think I should go into Larso, so I waited until you crossed the border.”

“I’m fine. I don’t need anyone checking up on me.”

Leena tilted her head to the side, a questioning look on her face.

Razai sighed. “People were looking for me,” she admitted. “I doubled back a few times to see who they sent and why.”

“It didn’t go well in Telfort, then?” Leena asked.

Razai shrugged. “No worse than usual.”

“Did you learn anything? Is King Rusol going to attack again?”

“He didn’t say.”

“You spoke to him?”

“How else was I going to learn anything? I was in disguise.” She’d started that way, at least. “Corec’s not the only warden he’s after, but he doesn’t know who the others are.”

“So it is because Corec’s a warden, then?”

“He didn’t say it straight out, but what else would it be?”

“How does he know about Corec if he doesn’t know who the others are?”

“I don’t know, but if Corec’s out killing dragons, that’s not going to help. The news has already made it this far. It won’t take long before it reaches the capital.”

“I think that was on purpose,” Leena said. “They want to draw Rusol out to a place where no one else will get hurt if he sends those red-eyes again.”

“Stop saying his name,” Razai snapped, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. “I didn’t see anyone with red eyes while I was there, but he’s got other compelled troops. They act like normal soldiers, but I could tell. They’ll be harder to find than the red-eyes. Treya should be able to sniff them out.”

Leena nodded. “I’ll let the others know. I’d offer to take you to the fortress now, but I worked a full shift in Sanvar today and I’m too tired.”

“What?” Razai said. No part of that last sentence had made sense.

Leena’s lips twitched into a smile. “I learned a few tricks while you were away. I can track you anywhere with the warden bond, and I can bring another person with me when I Travel, but it takes a lot of strength. I’ve been working with the other Travelers in Sanvar during the day, and coming back up north at night.”

“And the fortress?”

“The dragon’s keep is bigger than we expected. We’re settling in there and getting it fixed up. It’ll be easier to defend if …” Leena’s eyes darted around. “If he attacks.”

Razai remembered Matagor’s old trade keep, though it had been close to sixty years since she’d passed by that way. “That’s why Corec is so far south? Should I head that way rather than Four Roads?”

“He’s staying at the fortress, but the main roads are probably still the fastest route.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the door swung open hard enough to slam against the wall. Everyone in the room looked up as a squad of Larsonian soldiers entered. They kept their hands on their weapons and eyed the customers distrustfully.

“We’re looking for a demonborn woman,” the squad’s lieutenant announced, holding up a sketch. “Name of Razai. Has anyone seen her?”

No one responded, and the hillfolk glared at the soldiers behind their backs as they passed. Larsonian forces crossed the border frequently, ostensibly to hunt down raiders and keep the peace, but just as often to make trouble. The hillfolk weren’t organized enough to offer any sort of military defense against the incursions, so they had to put up with their more powerful neighbor when Larso wanted to throw its weight around.

The lieutenant walked along the length of the bar, showing the sketch to everyone there, before stopping at Razai and Leena’s table. He cocked his head to the side, clearly taking in the difference between Leena’s appearance and Razai’s disguise.

“You’re no local,” the man said to Leena.

She rattled off something in Sanvari that Razai couldn’t follow.

“What’d she say?” the lieutenant asked.

“She said she can’t understand what you’re saying, but she likes your uniform,” Razai said.

His eye twitched. “How do you know her?”

“We just met,” Razai said. “She was looking for a seat, so I offered.”

“Just like that, eh? Your accent’s from Larso. Where’d you learn to speak like a southerner?”

“Spent a few years on merchant ships running up and down the coast,” Razai said, mentally rewriting Nevin’s past. It was easier to maintain a lie if it was always the same lie. “Picked up a few words here and there. Came home when my pa got sick.”

The lieutenant grunted. “Ask her what she’s doing here.”

Razai tried to repeat the question using the few Sanvari words she knew. Leena gave a long, incomprehensible response.

“She says she’s looking for wool sellers who’ll ship to the south,” Razai lied. “Some sort of special wool, softer than normal. I don’t rightly understand it.”

“She’s here on her own? With no translator?”

“That’s what we were talking about when you came in. The last fellow didn’t want to cross the border, but when she realized I could speak the language, she asked me.” That tied the lie together, presenting a cohesive story. Not the most believable story, but there was little evidence to directly contradict it.

The man nodded and held out the drawing. “Have you seen this woman? She’s demonborn, and dangerous.” It was the same sketch Razai had seen carried by other squadrons that were looking for her. It wasn’t a bad likeness, but who had drawn it? She’d only shown her true face to Rusol, and perhaps a brief glimpse to his two guards as she ran past. With that sketch and her name going around, it would be a long time before she’d be able to operate in Larso using her own identity.

“Never seen her,” Razai said.

The lieutenant showed the sketch to Leena, whose eyebrows went up in surprise just briefly before she got her expression under control. She spoke again in Sanvari.

“She hasn’t seen her either,” Razai said. “She hasn’t been here long.”

“If either of you do see her, tell the border guards, or the garrison at Highfell. There’s a reward.”

“Oh?” Razai already knew about the reward from following the squads that were following her, but Nevin wouldn’t have known.

“Ten gold to anyone who helps us capture her.”

“Well, I’ll be on the lookout, then,” she said with a grin, allowing a bit of greed to color her voice.

“See that you are,” the man said.

He gathered up his soldiers and left. As the door closed behind them, the hillfolk men spat on the floor. Conversation started up again, slowly returning to normal.

“What was with the Sanvari?” Razai asked Leena. “Why pretend you don’t speak trade tongue?”

“That was Zidari, not Sanvari,” the other woman said. “And I figured you’d have a better idea of what to tell him.” Her voice had lost the hesitancy it’d had back when she’d first joined the expedition to Cordaea. She sounded more sure of herself now. “They have a drawing of you? What did you get up to in Telfort?”

“Just what I told you, but a few people saw my face.”

“If you spoke to him …” Leena started. “You didn’t learn anything else?”

“I offered him a truce. I figured it was what Corec would want—no more killing. I don’t know if he’ll take it, though. The conversation didn’t end well.” Razai still hoped Rusol would come to his senses and agree to her proposal, but she hadn’t seen any evidence to indicate he had.

Leena nodded. “Do you want me to come back in a day or two and take you to the fortress, so you can tell Corec about it?”

“What about my horse and mule?”

Leena shook her head. “They’re too big. I can only take you, but I can bring you back the next day.”

“If I leave the animals here, someone will steal them. You tell Corec what I said, and I’ll talk to him when I get there. Tell him he owes me for every day until then.”

Leena could pass along her findings, but the job wouldn’t be done until Razai met with Corec in person so he could remove the warden bond again. She’d been planning to go south afterward anyway, though, and at least now she’d get paid for more of the trip.