Daughter Of The Wind
Western Wind
By
Sandra Panicucci


Copyright 2012 by Sandra Panicucci
Smashwords Edition







Chapter 1 



Pink yanked the door closed and leaned against the rough oak planks trying to collect her scattered wits. Garec's attention was uninvited and unwanted. His business took him west into Swadan and she’d never been so glad to see the dust rise up behind someone. The farther from Hallowisp Manor, the better. 
Mistress Henna had firmly turned down Garec's offer to buy Pink earning her eternal gratitude. Never before had a man looked at her in such a way. Both nights he was under Hallowisp's roof she trembled every time footsteps sounded in the third floor hallway. 
The stares that Huntmaster Kalor, and the young groom, Tibold, turned on her as she watched the departing wagons from the safety of the stables increased her anxiety. At sixteen she had never hada problem with men. Most thought her little more than a child, with her slight build. Why had the merchant, and now her friends, suddenly decided she was a fair target for the games the other slavesand the maids played?

#
Throughout the day, men she had known for the past four years grew bolder. Their stares from a distance turned into attempts to reach out and touch her. A twist here, a dodge there, kept her safely out of their reach. Much to Pink’s relief, Mistress Henna noted her travails and sent her upstairs to gather the linens for washing. No man would bother her at the wash tubs. 
Bending to scrub and then stretching to hang the sheets on the line she felt the distant stares. Ignoring them, she chatted with Carlena as together they washed the lot. 
Tibold approached, straying from his usual confines within the barn, carrying three sets of breeches and shirts. He seemed scarcely aware of them as Carlena took them from him and assured him they'd be dry by nightfall. 
The blonde woman laid a hand on Tibold's shoulder and turned him back to the barn. "Even if she was interested, you're too young for the thoughts you're wearing on your face." She placed a hand on his back and gently pushed him on his way. The twelve year old boy stumbled as he glanced back over his shoulder.
Carlena asked, "What are you doing to these boys?"
Pink lived up to her name as her cheeks burned. "I'm not doing anything. I'm no different today than I was yesterday."
Carlena nodded agreement, but as yet another man tripped by the barn, jealousy flared in the older woman's face. They finished their work and Pink hurried upstairs.
Two dresses hung in her tiny closet of a room. She looked at them closely and chose the frumpiest one. Frumpy was a polite description. Mistress Henna had permitted her to keep it when one of the lodger’s daughters had left it behind. It was hideous. Buttons ran all the way up to her jawline where the collar flipped back down in what amounted to a bib to snarl the eyes if they tried to find her bosom. She pinned her hair in a severe bun, and smudged dirt across her cheeks from the potted flowers on the window sill, then hurried back to her tasks.
With the dining table set, Pink rushed to the clotheslines where a steady breeze dried the sheets and the groom's clothes. She unpinned them from the line and folded them neatly, piling them in the basket. Carlena helped fold sheets, then took Tibold's clothes to the barn, earning a grateful grimace from Pink. 
Pink carried the basket upstairs and began making up the beds. At the bottom of the basket she found the third set of the stable boy's clothes. Rather than expose herself to the scrutiny of the men, she took the clothes to her room and tucked them under her straw mattress. 
Normally she was expected to serve dinner, but after the first course, Mistress Henna sent her upstairs. She grabbed a couple slices of bread and some cheese and gladly retired.  
The scraping of chair legs and the manor's guests arriving in their rooms on the second floor announced the end of the meal. When the hallways quieted, she snuck down to the kitchen to help clear away the left-over food and dishes. The best of the scraps she stashed away, the rest went to compost in the midden heap. 
At the edge of the pile lay a perfectly serviceable pair of boots. They were a couple of sizes too big for her but she picked them up with a grin. They would work much better in the woods than the slippers of a house slave. If the next few days went like today, she would spend as much time as possible collecting herbs for poultices and tinctures.  
Pink slid the boots under her bed and piled the cheese and the small jar, which contained only two cucumbers floating in dill and vinegar, beside the boots. She changed to her shift and lay down to sleep, mentally taking stock of her small cluster of possessions. Somehow she would have to return Tibold's clothing, but she would wait to see if whatever affect she was having on men dissipated. 
She spent a goodly amount of time in the herbalist's shed. Since Mistress Gelora, her previous owner, and Temn's herbalist, passed away, the locals of the small mountain village had come to rely on Pink for their herbal remedies. She pondered the possibility of having inadvertently created an aphrodisiac. 
In her mind she thumbed through the requirements of the potions she knew to have that affect and she knew her shelves were missing key ingredients. Perhaps she had stumbled on a new recipe. What would she do if it didn't stop? 
She looked at the boots and the breeches sticking out from under the mattress and contemplated running away. Mistress Henna was the kindest of owners. Many paid servants had worse lives than she had. But what if this didn't end? Would she have to live her life in fear of being groped…or worse? 
If she ran she could travel east. Maybe start her own business. From overheard conversations of travelers, she gathered skilled herbalists were in demand everywhere. Nobody would recognize her in Ronan. If she wasn't a slave, men wouldn't dare to treat her in such a manner. As long as she kept her brand covered who would know?
She bolted the door, blew out the candle, and lay back on the bed, but her mind refused to quiet.
Moments later a gentle knock on the door brought her to her feet. She stood just inside the door and asked, "Who is it?"
"Open the door, Pink." Henna's voice betrayed irritation, but it was undeniably the Mistress waiting on the other side. Pink reached out a hand and pulled the bolt back. 
The latch lifted and Henna bustled through carrying a candle inside and setting it down. "What have you done?"
No preamble. That was Mistress Henna, direct to the heart of the matter. But Pink didn't have an answer. 
"Did you mix up a love potion for someone and spill it on yourself?"
Pink shook her head. Her lip trembled and moisture threatened to tumble from her eyes. "No Mistress. I was just going over my stores in my head. I don't have the ingredients for those. I don't know what's causing this."
Mistress Henna's gaze turned calculating. Pink was reminded that she owned a brothel in Temn, not just Hallowisp Manor, and the Mistress, kind though she was, was first and foremost a businesswoman. Surely Pink's skills as an herbalist were worth more than her body could earn in the brothel. Nerves on edge, Pink stretched a steadying hand to the bedpost and felt the tears course down her cheeks. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it will go away, Mistress." Pink desperately hoped her voice sounded more confident to the Mistress's ears than to her own.
Henna pursed her lips and looked down her aquiline nose at Pink. "We'll give it a couple of days…see what happens. In the meantime, remain in the background. Go collect herbs. Aren't the large mushrooms Cook is so talented with, in season? Hopefully out of sight will be out of mind."
Pink nodded her head. Wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she tried to smile and look confident. The Mistress wasn't fooled, but she stood and left, leaving Pink's mind in even greater turmoil. Now the threat of the brothel was hanging over her head. She would leave first thing in the morning for the depths of the forest. She should be safe there. She knew the woods better than even the huntsman. 
Without further thought she reached down and wrapped a blanket around the food under her bed.
Early the next morning she crept from her bed and down the stairs, pausing long enough to grab a basket and then darting down the path between the scraggly pines that surrounded the manor.  She looked back at the immense stone building, her gaze captured by motion near the barn. Tibold looked out at her holding the reins to a large grey horse. A reed-like man with dark hair stood beside the boy, his head turned to follow Tibold's gaze. Pink turned and fled into the forest.
She spent the morning collecting herbs and the afternoon laying them out to dry in the herbalist's shed. After carefully scanning for men, she darted into the kitchen, snatched some food, and ran back through the woods. When she was deep within her private world she leaned back against a tree and gulped down her purloined food. The curtain of night settled through the forest and Pink crept back to her bed. The next two days passed much the same. The second morning the man who had been with Tibold on the day of her exile was waiting by the kitchen door. Pink dodged back within the kitchen and begged two of the maids to accompany her. 
Together they walked to the forest and once her feet were on the path she thanked them and dashed away, basket swinging from her right hand. That evening, Mistress Henna returned to Pink's room. "Harner has been asking about you."
"Harner?"   
"He's been here for two days now. Apparently he is friends with Mister Garec."
Pink sat down on the bed. "The merchant?"
"It seems Garec is determined to possess you and sent his friend back to keep watch over what he covets."
Pink couldn't stop her hand from shaking as she smoothed back her copper tresses. "He was waiting for me outside the kitchen today. I got a couple of the girls to walk with me into the wood."
"You still don't know what the cause of this infatuation is?"
"No ma'am. I've bathed. I scrubbed with lye in the river yesterday still the huntmaster scented me as though he were one of his own hounds when I returned to the manor. He looked ready to accost me and he must be sixty years old. If Carlena had not been out doing laundry, there's no telling what may have happened."
Henna folded her hands behind her back and paced the length of the room, red hair floated about her shoulders as she looked at the ceiling in silent contemplation of the problem before her. "A lot of work is being slacked off these past three days. It's all I can do to get a meal out of Cook. The men turn often to watch the wood, waiting for your return."
"I'm sorry, Mistress."
"I've eyes in my head. I can see it's not of your doing. It's just…" Mistress Henna quieted as heavy footsteps trod down the hall pausing in front of Pink's door. The latch was lifted but Henna had shot the bolt home when she entered.
The latch fell and the footsteps retreated. Pink huddled against the wall behind the bed, Henna turned with a frown. "Tomorrow I will have Carlena bring food and a flask of water to the forest. Leave here before first light and do not return for the next three days. If you need anything leave a rock in the basket. I'll send Carlena to recover it every evening from the clearing near the stand of birch trees."
Pink hugged herself tightly. Fear held her tongue, stopping her from answering with anything more than a wide-eyed nod of her head. 
"In three days I'll expect you to return. Young Tibold seems to be one of your admirers--we'll use him to see if it's safe for you to stay." Henna lifted a hand to the door and said, "Bolt this behind me."
Her words were unnecessary as Pink was already rising to do just that.

Before daylight, Pink was out the door. Quiet footsteps hurried down the stair but she didn't pause to look back and was grateful when one of the kitchen maids called out to her follower, "Master Harner, you're up early. Will you be leaving today then?"
Harner's voice was gruff as he paused to answer. Pink took advantage of his delay and pelted down one of the animal tracks that most people overlooked in the woods. The first half of the day was quiet. She checked periodically to see if Carlena had left her food and when finally the basket appeared she was ever so grateful. The basket contained rinds of cheese, day old bread, several hard-boiled eggs and some of the jerky that Pink had never had to eat before, but she had helped in its drying and seasoning for travelers.
She ate sparingly and when full, stuffed the remaining food in a fold of her dress and returned the basket to where she had picked it up. That evening she checked the birch stand and found the basket had been returned with the blanket from her bed and more food. This fare was going to get old. She found a quiet place, piled leaves deep and wrapped in her blanket to stay warm. The autumn air was starting to chill. Running away crossed her mind again. If she was going to go, she would need to do it soon or she wouldn't get out of the mountains before snowfall. 
She decided against that course of action. Harner would move on. Whatever was happening to her would end and she would reclaim her life. 
The next day, footprints which did not belong to Carlena, or any woman for that matter circled the basket of food. Pink snatched up the basket and fled back into the darkness of the denser woods.
She hid in a thicket, listening for some time before daring to delve into the food. When she finished, she left the basket where it was. There would be plenty of time to return it after she was sure Harner did not lie in wait. She turned her efforts toward repaying Mistress Henna's kindness and filled the basket with the mushrooms Henna liked. It would not be much longer before they too were gone for the winter. 
She returned the basket to the place she had picked it up and was disturbed to see even more footprints. As she placed the basket down, she heard him. 
Harner blundered noisily along the trail. Pink turned to run but the arrogant noble stretched his legs into a lope and pursued her deeper into the forest. His glazed eyes and erratic movements frightened her more than his quiet stalking had. As he closed the distance between them, grasping claw-like fingers snagged the shoulder of her dress, tearing it down the front. The impetus of his motion threw her to the ground and for one long, impossible moment, fear froze her in place. 
Harner’s weight, crushing her to the ground shattered the paralysis gripping her limbs. Shock held her mind as she writhed underneath him. Frightened screams and panicked struggling brought nothing but more violence--until her knee connected with his groin.  He doubled up in pain and Pink twisted her diminutive body out from under him.  His face a mask of agony and insanity, Harner reached for her throat. 
Pink twisted her head around and bit his hand. The coppery taste of blood flooded her mouth. The hand was snatched away--only to return folded into a fist. Her head rocked backwards from the blow to her jaw. Scuttling away, her questing fingers came in contact with a fallen branch and she swung it with every ounce of terror driven strength she had. 
A dull thud, followed by a sharp crack, left her holding half a bloodied stick. He dropped to the ground like a sack of flour thrown from Cook’s supply wagon. The skin on the side of his head, just above his ear was torn; the skull indented. The branch had been more than adequate for her needs. 
 Wary of deceit in spite of the condition of his head, she prodded Harner with the bloody end of the wood she held. His head lolled to the side, eyes open. 
As the herbalist for the valley of Temn, she had seen death before. Sometimes she couldn't prevent it, but never before had she caused it. If anybody found the body, there would be no question of her fate. 
With shaking hands, Pink covered the evidence of her crime with sticks and fallen leaves. As long as she was working she wasn't thinking. When the body was covered, her trembling became uncontrollable. Her stomach clenched. She leaned over and vomited then stood back up and wiped her mouth with the bloody shreds of her clothing. As she regained control of her body she knotted the ripped dress, snatched up the basket of mushrooms, and ran back to the manor. 
A chambermaid emerging from a guest's suite, was the only person to see Pink sneak into her room. 
Pink changed into Tibold's clothes, pulled the boots on her feet, and covered the whole ensemble with her other dress. She cleaned the blood from her face, snatched up a blanket with her cheese and cucumbers bundled in it, then carried the basket downstairs. Leaving most of the mushrooms in the kitchen, Pink tucked herself away in the wine cellar. 
Hiding amidst bottles of Mountainberry Wine, Pink quivered as each new pair of feet entered the manor overhead. She strained to hear muted conversations, afraid that Harner’s body had been discovered and her chance at escape blocked. 
Dusk was heralded by the silence which reigned on the floor overhead. She crept up the stairs, and clasping her hands together to stop them from trembling, Pink walked out the front door with an air of calm she did not feel.
Flitting from shadow to shadow she fled down the winding path away from the great stone manor of Hallowisp farm. When she dared to stop and look back, the forest hid even the flickering glare of lamps at the front door.  
Her heart raced. Sweat beaded on her forehead in spite of the chill night air. The cut on the left side of her face burned. Purpling bruises ached when she bent to reclaim the blanket and food she'd hidden earlier. She placed the eggs in the jar with the cucumbers to preserve them longer.
Harner's hat lay inches from her stash. Pink stepped out of her house slave's dress and stuffed it inside the bundle then pulled the wide-brimmed hat down over her unruly curls, completing her transformation into a young boy. 
She made her way back to the road. A loud thump announced the stable door being thrown open. Muffled voices carried on the night air brought the threat of discovery. Pink bolted down the path. 
Out of sight was nowhere near far enough away.
If she was caught after tonight, one of three things would happen. The best Pink could hope for was being sent to work the fields--for having run away, she would lose her position in the house. She could survive that. If they discovered Harner‘s remains, she would be executed. The grimmest possibility was that she would be sent to work in Mistress Henna's brothel. She shuddered, remembering the lewd stares and gestures she had dealt with in the past week. The degradation of the brothel was not something she was strong enough to live through.







Chapter 2



Pink hoped she'd have the two days Henna expected her to be gone before they began searching for her. Nobody would believe she'd run away from Hallowisp...unless they found the body. If Carlena reported that the food was not being taken, perhaps they would begin the hunt early. With Harner's disappearance, Mistress Henna might even think she would be rescuing Pink.
There was no going back. She had to get as far away from Hallowisp as possible. Her legs carried her at a speed only fear could sustain. 
She followed the road east toward Ronan at a steady jog. More practical to traverse the mountain road than the slippers she normally wore, she wished the boots were smaller. Blisters grew and popped as she ran. 
Pink separated her mind from the pain by concentrating on the future. Somehow the potions Pink prepared for Mistress Gelora, had always been more effective than those the old herbalist prepared. Pink had acquired a reputation as a knowledgeable herbalist around the mountain community by the time she was twelve, a fact that increased Gelora's bitter cruelty. 
Pink just needed to survive this run, and then she would command her own life. 
Her steps slowed, but she continued with dogged persistence until the sun brightened the morning sky. She sought out a crevice between two large rocks to hide away the daylight hours. Pine needles from the scrub growing on the near vertical cliff lining the road padded it. Curled in her blanket, using the dress as a pillow, she lay out of sight of the traveled way, to await the concealing black curtain of night. She rested uneasily, blistered feet throbbing, muscles, unaccustomed to continuous jogging and walking, burned. 
She roused several times during the day and curled deeper in the rocks as hoofbeats passed by on the road. Barely daring to breathe, she listened to the snatches of conversation the wind brought to her hiding place. Each group of riders that passed from the west, she expected to be slave hunters, but darkness fell without discovery, and she returned to the road. 
#

The third day, she was awakened by the baying of hounds. The first bark lifted her to her feet. Pulse racing, she scrambled up the treacherous slopes. Long before the hunters arrived at the place she’d been sleeping, she was high above the road.
The huntsman maintained the pack at Hallowisp only for sport. These would be the hunters’ hounds from the auction in Temn, trained especially to hunt and take down without killing, two-footed prey. 
When the herbalist owned her, Pink had seen the results of several of these hunts. The slaves usually survived, but neither hounds, nor hunters, were gentle. 
With the speed of a fleeing doe, she climbed higher into the mountains. Scrambling over rock outcroppings, she heard the hounds begin to bay in earnest; they had her scent. 
As she ran, she remembered Gelora's, cutting remarks about the stupidity of slaves as she worked on a runaway, torn up and recaptured by the dogs. "All they have to do is cover their scent and the hounds have nothing to hunt. Run through the water, bathe in strong scented herbs, but are they smart enough? Bah... Little better than animals, that's what slaves are." Mistress Gelora had so detested slaves that she said things in front of Pink as though she were incapable of comprehension. For the first time since Pink had been sold to the old woman, she was glad of those four hard years. 
A pond glinted in a depression down the slopes to the northeast. It was faraway but it was her best chance. She flew toward it as fast as her feet would carry her. 
The sound of rocks sliding under scrabbling paws where the hounds turned off the road, reached her ears. She looked backward over the top of a small ridge, to check their progress. What she saw, spurred her to greater effort. 
There were five hunters. The hounds had the scent and they were sure of their quarry. The men worked their way methodically up the mountainside, beating the brush to make sure she had not doubled back. The dogs strained at their leashes. Pink did not stay to watch. 
Blisters a distant memory, Pink tore down the slope toward the pond, and leapt into it barely registering the shock of the icy mountain water. She used handfuls of sand to scrub herself and her clothing down. Standing on the edge of the pond she dug through her bundle and grabbed the small jar of cucumbers. 
As she poured the juice onto her filthy tunic and wiped herself down with it, Pink thought, Dill, to ward off evil. If ever it has truly worked for such a purpose, let it be today. The hounds were getting louder and she bolted again. She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of racing paws, and heavy panting. 
One of the hounds had gained his freedom and was closing fast. Pink slipped on the slick stones and rushing water of the rill and the hound was on her. He grabbed her arm and began to shake it as though she were no more than a rag doll.
She could do little but scream. Agony raged through her torn flesh. She caught the dog’s eye and moaning in pain, begged him to stop.
A miracle occurred. She didn’t pause to question it. As she begged the hound for her life and her freedom, he stopped worrying at her and sat back on his haunches. The baying of the other hounds quickly became louder, her screams drawing the hunters more surely than the hounds’ noses.
Keeping a wary eye on the dog at her feet, she wrapped the arm in her tunic, and fled downstream in the widening trickle of water that flowed from the pond. 
Confused baying announced the hunters’ arrival at the pond. Raised voices and cracking whips told her when they found the hound that let her go. She left the stream after several hundred yards, trusting to the dill to cover her scent. Climbing out onto a hard ridge of shale, she followed the ledge of rock deeper into the mountains. The terrain grew steadily harsher. Bewildered barking grew more distant. She did not slow until her muscles refused to hold her weight.
Dizziness overwhelmed her and she stumbled, sliding down a ravine, headfirst. She lay at the bottom, unable to move. 
Breathing was agony. Legs quivered uncontrollably and blisters—forgotten during flight—burned as though a fire consumed her feet. Her flayed arm was still wrapped in the grimy tunic. The shredded chemise, exposed scrapes and bruises, too numerous to count. Red, black, and purple covered her stomach and chest from the slide. 
Amidst the pain, the absence of baying still lightened her concerns. The hounds and hunters had continued down the rill. She tried to force her body to move on, but it refused. 
When the hunters arrived at the end of the flow of water, however far away that might be, they would return. Whether or not they would find trace on the second pass she didn't know. But she was done. 
Lifting an arm and dragging herself to a more comfortable position was beyond her abilities. She closed her eyes and prayed to Falo, goddess of lost causes, that neither the hounds’ noses nor the hunters’ eyes would be able to pick up her trail. If they did…she prayed it ended quickly. 
#
Shadows swept up the steep slopes of the ravine as the sun sank in the west. Damp clothes and mountain chill brought her back to a frigid consciousness, forcing her to move.
A finger length at a time, she crawled her hand through the bundle, clamping her lips tight over the moans that tried to escape with every motion. She pulled out the slave’s dress, removed the tattered men’s clothing, and wriggled into the dry warmth of the despised garment. Then she wrapped her blanket around herself and settled back down on her uncomfortable bed of stone. 
Morning brought golden light filtering through thin twisted branches. She stretched cramped muscles, as warmth seeped into her bones, tortured throbbing sang across raw nerve endings. Fresh scabs broke and bled when she flexed her arm. 
Everything hurt and nothing moved willingly. The early morning singing of the mountain birds was incongruous with the way she felt. But she far preferred their music to that of the hounds. 
She reached into her pack and grabbed a crust of bread, forcing herself to eat. Water would have to wait until she found another stream. The leather flask she had brought with her had disappeared at some point the day before. She didn’t even know if she had dropped it or if it had been snatched from her shoulder by a grasping tree. Either way it was a small price to pay if that was all she lost.
By noontime she had worked enough kinks from her muscles to convince her legs to carry her along the bottom of the ravine in the downhill direction it traveled. She was sure it wasn’t the shortest way to cover distance, but she couldn’t imagine climbing the steep sides to continue in a straight line.
Hours later, throat swollen with thirst, she dropped gratefully to her knees to drink from a trickle of water which tumbled down the shale slopes of the ravine to form a rivulet in the bottom of her prison. Thirst slaked, she dug through her bundle, searching through packets of herbs stashed in the bottom. 
She unwrapped goldenseal and chewed on it, swallowing some of the bitter plant. When it was moist, she made a poultice for her arm and bound it in a strip of the rags that used to be a chemise. There would be time for better care when she was certain the hunters were gone and she could brew teas and tinctures. For now, she hoped her efforts would stave off infection.
As twilight once again draped itself across her ravine, she put the pants and tunic on under the dress. Wrapped in the blanket, she settled into a bed of leaves.
The following day started earlier and she worked her way up the sides. Might as well have stayed in the bottom for all the good being able to see where she was did her. Wincing in agony with every step, she journeyed as straight into the rising sun as possible. The weather forced her to keep moving. If she was still in the mountains when winter struck, she was as good as dead. 
#
Every passing day lightened the load Pink carried. 
The herbal lore gleaned from her first owner helped her survive. She foraged from the countryside, and succeeded in stretching her meager supplies another three weeks. But all too soon she found herself spending more time searching for food than traveling. As fall faded to winter, little that was edible could be dug from the rough, mountainous countryside. 
The weather varied, the skies darkened often to rain. She stumbled on despite the chill soakings. The need to get out of the mountains kept her putting one foot in front of the other except in the most torrential downpour. Every time the clouds gathered she scented the air, expecting that snow was not far in the offing.
Elation mingled with fear when she found a road. She wasn’t sure if it was the same one she had been on, or a completely different one. But shivering in her blanket and hungry enough she considered digging for grubs to eat; Pink decided she had gone far enough.







Chapter 3



Plumes of smoke warned of a human settlement. Pink carefully scouted the population from the shelter of surrounding forests. 
The village consisted of less than twenty, tightly clustered wooden houses. The countryside was dotted with small farmsteads. On the northern side of the village and behind her to the west, mountains rose sharply, covered with dense deciduous trees. To the east and south, rolling hills provided fertile fields. She was nearly to the eastern edge of the Swa Caran Mountain range. 
A two-story inn, its lower floor made of stone, the upper of log, dominated the western end of the village. A hundred feet away from the inn, open air stalls stood waiting to be occupied on market day. 
After spending half a day watching the village and the surrounding dwellings, she selected a small, neatly kept wooden cottage, surrounded by gardens. It stood a quarter mile distant from its nearest neighbor on the southwestern border of the holdings. The cottage’s sole occupant was an old man. Even having made certain of this fact, she approached with great trepidation. Her need for shelter and food barely outweighed her fear of capture or attack.   
The old man was working in one of several small gardens with his back to her. Stray wisps of white hair stood up about his head, pulled loose by the work he was doing from the tail that fell barely past his shoulders. He wore tan woolen trousers, stained with rich black earth, and a dark green tunic that fell to his hips. 
It encouraged her to see the gardens filled with herbs. She recognized clumps of rosemary and thyme, and over in a corner some sweet cicely clung tenaciously to life. They looked well-tended but not heavily harvested. This time of year, most of them should have been cut back to prepare them for winter. Perhaps he will trade me food in exchange for help with the gardens.
He didn't turn around as she approached, but a brief hesitation in his motion told her he sensed her presence.
"Excuse me," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. She hadn‘t spoken in three weeks, and the nights spent cold and wet, freezing in the mountains, left her coughing harshly.  The husky squeak that came out didn’t sound the least like her normal speaking voice.
 The old man finished covering his plants with straw, then turned to look at her. 
She knew she looked horrid. Many of the bruises and scratches remained livid. The hat had been lost in the chase, her hair was knotted and filthy, her clothes--little more than rags--could no longer conceal her gender. Though the lean weeks had done away with the youthful curves the men had seemed to find so appealing. She looked down at the ground, ready to flee if she had read him wrong. 
With no hesitation he turned back toward his house and said, "Come along girl, supper’s already warm. You've the look of a starving wolf cub."
 Pink couldn’t have hoped for more, but her feet hesitated, it was too easy. Her mind urged her to flee. Her grumbling stomach overruled her fears. “I can work for my supper," she offered, following him into his home. 
At the doorway her steps faltered, fear made her glance back at the open path to freedom behind her. A strange compulsion urged her forward, pushing gently at her shoulder blades. Once she was through the door, the aroma of the simmering stew drew her on. The choice was no longer hers if she wanted to live. She would not survive another week outside any better than the herbs in the old man’s gardens. 
 "What is it you think I need you to do?” he asked, ignoring the panic written across her face. “You are rather fetching, but I think I'm a bit old for that sort of thing."
Relief at his words followed her brief start of fright.
Piercing hazel eyes watched both reactions.
That simple statement eased her mind of one fear. Back at the farm she had felt threatened by the older men as well as the young, married and unmarried alike. 
The old man led her to a washtub filled with warm water, next to the fireplace. He handed her a rough towel and made her wash her hands and face before seating her at the finely carved mahogany table. The dinner plates were displayed in a glass-fronted hutch that matched the design of the table. Fine crystal and plain clay mugs shared an upper shelf. 
Two open doorways entered into other rooms. The living area was impeccably kept, simple elegance. 
He didn't need anybody to clean; that much was obvious. What did she have to offer for her keep?
He was nothing but skin and bone. “I can cook,” she offered. “Maybe help you finish preparing the gardens for winter, in exchange for a couple nights rest and two meals a day.” 
He stared at her, turning away from where he stirred the stew. Pink rather thought her story would be obvious from her appearance. She would consider herself fortunate if he did no more than turn her away. But after a careful scrutiny, during which she was uncomfortably aware of the intense gaze taking in every scratch and bruise and the raw wounds from the hound, a smile spread across his face, friendly and welcoming. "I don't much like my own cooking. Since my grandson, Trace, left to join Lorth's army last year,” his expression darkened as he mentioned his grandson, but he continued on, “I only get a good meal when Jolyn stops in once a week from the village. The rest of the week I just throw some more vegetables at the pot. If you can cook I reckon you can stay as long as you like. It‘d be nice to have something besides stew for a change." 
He ladled the maligned stew into a bowl and handed it to her. It wasn’t too bad. Nothing more meat and stronger spices couldn’t help. "You grow herbs in your gardens, why don't you add them to the soup?" Pink asked. 
With a touch of melancholy in his voice he replied, "I grow herbs in my wife's gardens. I don't know what they're good for. Without her here to guide me, I don't even know the proper way to cure them.” He turned and looked out the window at the gardens before taking his seat across from where Pink sat. “For all I know they could be poisonous. She used to warn me of some that could kill if used in too large a dose, but I never paid attention. I wish I had now. I never imagined she’d die before me.” 
For a long time he found the bowl of stew extraordinarily interesting. When his spoon scraped the bottom, he spoke again. “If you know what the herbs are, and how to use them, your assistance would be appreciated. They are simply my way of keeping Mari alive. Every spring I plant the annuals in the same patterns she planted, using the seed from the year before.”
Waving a hand toward the distant buildings he continued, “Throughout the summer and fall the villagers come to gather those they can identify. In exchange for this, Jolyn comes in once a week and cleans, and cooks, but I’m so secluded here, it’d be a welcome change to have somebody to talk to."
#
Pink swept and dusted Johann’s house daily and cooked supper every night. It amazed her how little dirt there was to clean. Even when she knew she’d just tracked mud in from the gardens, the house seemed to polish itself. 
She tended the herb gardens fervently, cutting and drying those that had survived the early frosts, working hard to prove her value to her benefactor. By the end of her third week, all the herbs were gathered or dead. Johann made a couple of trips to the village during these first weeks but he never stayed long. 
Pink found other work to do. She was so determined to be useful, she blistered her hands splitting and stacking wood for the winter, though there were plentiful stacks already, placed there over the summer by Jolyn’s fiancé.
When the herbs were all packaged and bundled, Johann asked her to take them to the market to trade for supplies. She couldn’t come up with any reasonable sounding arguments to not go into the village. Most of her bruises and scrapes were completely healed. Only the rips in her forearm from the jaws of the hound were still tender. Johann had dug some of his wife’s clothing out of storage so the excuse of nothing to wear was gone. She offered to show him what herbs were what, and how valuable they were, but he was insistent that she would go.
Pink packed some of the herbs in a basket and with a trembling hand, picked it up to walk out the door.
Johann stopped her. Lips in a tight line, eyes narrow and considering, he stared at her. “You’d rather go to the village than admit to me what you’re running from.”
She backed away from him, eyes wide, unable to say anything. He had never asked, or even indicated he was curious as to where she had appeared from.
“Stay there,” he ordered. 
Pink was torn between fleeing and obeying. She opted to do as he said. If he knew what she was, he could have betrayed her at any time before now.
He went into the room he slept in, and returned with a bulky winter coat and a brown and gold headscarf. “Put these on. You won’t be as noticeable. A girl your age shouldn‘t spend all her days with a tired old man.”
She put the outer clothes on and picked up the basket, turning toward the door. He stopped her yet again as she was about to step over the threshold. “I’ve told them your name is Velune.”
Nodding her acceptance of the new name, she carried the herbs up to the market. The villagers eyed her curiously but nobody questioned her. Some muttered behind her back about the magicker’s apprentice. She wondered if they had come up with that on their own, or if Johann started the rumor. The most important thing she garnered from the gossips was that their suppositions told her they had not figured out where she came from. When she returned to Johann, she had a ham, some fresh bread, potatoes, and a lighter mind
Johann had told the young woman who had cleaned and cooked for him that she did not need to come out anymore. When Pink showed up, at the butcher’s market stall where Jolyn worked for her father, using Johann’s herbs as payment, Jolyn tried to strike up a conversation.
Pink answered as shortly as she could while still being tolerably polite, fear kept her from lingering. 
 Each week Jolyn tried to draw Pink out of her shell and by the fourth trip to market, Pink dared to stay and talk to her for a short while, conscious at all times when anybody cast a glance her way. Jolyn attempted to get the answers the villagers desired. It was a matter of extreme curiosity to them that a young woman had showed up at the old man’s house. Not all of the rumors were as benign as the one that claimed she was his apprentice. Some said she was his mistress, some claimed she was a distant relative; some even had her as Johann’s grandson’s fiancée awaiting his return from Relante.
To every attempt to dig for information Pink curtly replied with some form of, “It’s my life, if I wished it to be public I'd tell everyone.”
Jolyn grinned, “It’s only human nature to be curious. I know Johann well enough that I don’t believe for a minute you’re his mistress. But he keeps his distance from most folks, especially since Mari died and Trace left.”
The gaze burned as Jolyn scrutinized Pink’s reaction to Trace’s name, with a sigh Pink said, “You don’t have to stare so hard. I’ve never even met Trace, I’m not going to swoon with anxiety because you said his name.”
Jolyn crossed her arms and tapped her toes. “You’re not going to help me out at all here are you? I guess I‘ll just have to tell people you're his apprentice.”
The corner of Pink’s lip twitched. “You tell them whatever you wish. You know Johann is very private; my relationship with him is nobody’s business but ours. Could I please get that roast I needed?”
Jolyn glanced at her father who was leaning against the baker’s canvas, three market stalls away. He caught her looking and came back. Jolyn met him at the back entrance and told him she needed a roast. Gordun searched through his stock. When he also failed, he shook his head promising to hold one the following week. When he left again, Jolyn turned back to Pink. “How about some sausage then.”
“What kind have you got?”
Jolyn pointed to the various sausages and when she pointed out a spiced beef sausage, Pink uttered a cry of delight. “I haven’t had that in months.”
Jolyn gave her another appraising stare and then smiled. “You’d be from Swadan then?”
“I’ve lived in Ronan half my life,” Pink admitted. It was technically true but the people of Temn claimed neither Ronan nor Swadan as their home country. They bought items on both sides of the mountains. Supplied food and lodging to all those who wandered through and paid taxes to no one. A fact that was occasionally contested by one king or the other, but they were a long way from either kingdom and did much toward keeping the mountain road clear and safe. Since it was easily demonstrated that there was no need for the roads to remain safe, the idea of taxes was usually dropped, almost before it was brought up.
Jolyn wrapped the sausage and handed it to Pink accepting a packet of coriander, and another of sage that her father would grind into the next batch of sausage, as payment. A tall blond man approached the stall and Jolyn beamed at him. “Velune, have you met Willem yet?”
It was the first time anybody had called her by the name Johann had given to her and she almost failed to respond. With a start she said, “No. No I haven’t. Though if I remember correctly that would be the name Johann gave me as your fiancé.”
The newcomer smiled and wrapped an arm around Jolyn’s waist, kissing her lightly on the lips. He turned to Pink and said, “That would be me. And that makes me the luckiest man alive.” He turned to Jolyn and said, “I’m off with Samlin to look for some lost cattle. I won’t be late.”
“You be careful, the wolves are getting hungry with winter on us. Don’t be staying out there after dark looking for senseless creatures.” She pulled him down and kissed him back, glancing around in time to catch her father’s scowl. 
Pink watched this interchange wordlessly and after Willem moved off she said, “Your father doesn’t seem to like Willem.”
Jolyn scowled back at her father then turned to Pink with a grin. “Why do you think I'm still unmarried at twenty-two years old? He wouldn’t be happy unless I was marrying Lorun, the crown prince, but since the prince is already married and has a daughter I guess I’ll have to settle for Willem.” 
There was no ‘settling’ in her tone or in the longing gaze she cast at Willem’s disappearing back. If the crown prince had asked her to be his wife, Jolyn would have turned him down in favor of Willem. Jealousy twisted Pink’s gut as she recalled her promise to her father and thought to herself, someday.
Jolyn looked at her and then turned to the soapmaker’s stall down close to the end of the row. “Since you claim you’re not engaged to Trace, I could introduce you to a couple of the young men around here, Harlin for one.”
Pink had already noticed the soapmaker’s son on an earlier visit, medium height with wide muscular shoulders, high cheekbones, an aquiline nose, strong chin, blue eyes and raven hair. He was good looking but he held no interest for Pink, nonetheless her copper skin reddened at Jolyn’s suggestion. She shook her head, collected her sausage and left, absolutely certain that within the hour everyone in the village would know everything that had just been said.
The first, soft white flakes of snow drifted to the ground a month and a half after Pink stopped running. The ground had remained frozen for weeks barely thawing at all in the noonday sun. The snow accumulated rather than melting away, and by the end of the second month, Johann and Pink spent many days barricaded into the cottage. 
Johann was a never-ending source of tales, he kept her entertained throughout the long winter days. He had traveled a lot, and told tales from many places she’d never even heard of in the Four Lands. Sometimes he even told fanciful tales of elves and unicorns. He always prefaced these tales with, ‘Once upon a time’, so she knew it was not one he expected her to believe. She never volunteered to be the storyteller and he seemed content to simply have a listener. 
After two weeks of being snowed in, Pink made it out to the market and occasionally she still heard whispers behind her back as folk gossiped about her living with the magicker. She had never seen proof that Johann was a magicker, and she knew for certain she was not his apprentice. Pink ignored the gossips and went about her business, only too glad to retreat to the security of the small white cottage, in the valley.
#
Standing in the market in Aldan one early spring afternoon, haggling with Jolyn’s father over the cost of a chicken, a familiar voice sent a shiver down Pink’s spine. 








Chapter 4


The owner of the voice was discussing how profitable his recent buying trip to Swadan had been. He’d purchased many goods in Swadan and he rattled off a list then talked about how there were some strange new merchants with goods unlike any he’d seen before.
When he spoke of purchasing a beautiful slave for half her previous owner’s cost. The chill that set deep in Pink’s bones had nothing to do with the nip in the morning air. Fear crawled over her skin, a near palpable sensation, and by Gordun‘s appraising glance it was obvious to those who saw her. 
The man laughed as he told his companion, “All I have to do is hunt her down. It shouldn‘t be a problem. I get around and know enough people. I should be able to find her; she has very distinctive hair, and wears a brand.” 
His companion sounded bored as he asked, “What’s so special about this one?”
Pink risked a cautious glance over her shoulder. She recognized Garec, the tall, heavyset, blond merchant who had been the start of her problems at Mistress Henna's. He replied to his burly dark haired companion, “Wait ‘til I find her. You won’t have to ask that question. But there was just something about her. I don’t know...she stayed in my mind, long after I left Henna’s place. I’ve never felt such an attraction.” They were moving steadily closer. “There’s also the matter of Harner.”
Pink froze. What did Garec know about Harner?
The dark haired man grunted. “Huh…There’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. What’s he up to?”
“Not a whole lot. That damn bitch, Henna, dared to tell me no, when I wanted to buy one of her pets. I sent Harner back to keep an eye on the girl and he disappeared.” Garec growled, “They all claim the last anybody saw of him, he was going after her. Next thing, she up and runs away.”
The dark haired man laughed. “That sounds like Harner.”
“Yeah. I thought so too, until I talked to the hunters who went after her. They swear her tracks made her out to be alone. There wasn‘t any trace of him at his home or at Henna‘s. He just vanished. The folks at Hallowisp weren’t exactly friendly when I asked about him, they know something, but nobody’s talking.”
Relief and gratitude washed over her. Garec may have his suspicions but he had no proof. If Harner‘s horse was gone, somebody at Hallowisp had to know what happened to him. The huntsman must have found the body by now. Perhaps the bloody torn dress she’d hidden in her room, along with the word of the chambermaid that had seen her, were enough to convince Mistress Henna she had acted in self-defense. The small mountain community of Temn always had taken care of their own. 
Immensely glad of the scarf covering her copper curls, and the warm, bulky, overcoat Johann had loaned her, Pink paid what the butcher demanded, even though it was overpriced. Gordun’s eyes flicked from her, to Garec and his companion, but he said nothing.
Pink’s hand shook as she tucked loose curls firmly under the scarf. With downcast eyes, she spun on her heel and brushed past Garec, moving swiftly to a market stall farther away. 
Every nerve screamed, “Run!” but that would only succeed in attracting attention. Glancing fearfully over her shoulder, she traded for a loaf of fresh baked bread and returned to Johann‘s house.
She arrived home and rushed past the old man as he tended the gardens, turning the soil for the spring planting. He followed her in, hazel eyes examining her shrewdly. They darkened with concern. 
"What is it?” he asked. “You look like you've seen a ghost." 
Tears threatened to trickle down her cheeks as she said, "I wish it were a ghost.” She stopped, her throat thick with fear. With effort she continued. “In a way I suppose it is. You allowed me to stay the winter without asking questions, for that I’m grateful. Unfortunately the past is not willing to stay behind.” 
With great reluctance she began her tale. She sat on a dining room chair and gazed into the fire, afraid to meet his quiet stare. She hoped he would not be angry at harboring a murdering runaway slave for more than three months.
"When I was eight, my stepfather sold me into slavery. An old herbalist from the outskirts of Temn purchased me at auction.” Pink rocked back and forth in the chair, hands clasped, hesitant to continue.  
A furtive sideways glance showed her Johann, nodding his head as though this fact did not surprise him at all. His easy acceptance brought the words tumbling from her.
 "When the herbalist died and her only surviving heir couldn’t pay his debts, I found myself with a new owner. I was twelve years old.”
 Pink wrung her hands. “Mistress Henna was kind, and I came to enjoy living there. There were many worse places I could have ended up.” She smiled, recalling for him, her Mistress’s ready praise, and the hours of free time she received every evening.
"Since the herbalist died, replacing her became one of the many duties I performed for Mistress Henna. To this end the Mistress taught me to read and bought two books for me to study from." She paused and shook her head mournfully. "I regret leaving the books behind but they cost too much, they weren't mine to take." 
Johann gave her his full attention, but she could see a question in his eyes. She stopped speaking, giving him a chance to ask it. "I’ve known paid servants that were treated worse than it sounds you were. Why would you leave?" His voice was monotone. At least he did not sound angry. 
"A week and a half before I ran away, a merchant named Garec visited the farm, stopping for the night with his trade wagons. He noticed me and raved to Mistress Henna how I bewitched him with my, 'brilliant copper hair and sparkling brown eyes.' He became insistent that the Mistress sell me to him.” A shudder ran through her body at the memory.
“Mistress Henna turned him down, but his rage was obvious. Everybody could tell he was used to getting his way." 
Johann busied himself setting plates on the table and pouring tea. 
Pink had not missed his start of recognition at Garec's name.  “After making it clear he would be returning in three month's time, Garec left the following morning.”
She stood from her chair and began pacing in front of the fire, staring at the floor. Still afraid to meet his gaze. “After he left, the whole world went crazy. I don’t understand it. I did nothing different. I didn’t change the way I dressed or put my hair up.” She looked at her fine boned reflection in the cottage window. “It seemed every male in the country was suddenly determined to possess me. I don’t think of myself as beautiful and the changes in the manner of men I’d considered friends, frightened me.” 
Inspecting her fingernails, digging imaginary dirt out from under them, she felt the blood rise in her cheeks.
 Only after a lengthy pause did she continue. "Even the Mistress eyed me from time to time. She seemed to be assessing the value of her property.” Pink’s fingers raked through her hair. “Mistress Henna runs many businesses in Temn—one of them is a bordello. If she deemed her merchandise to be worth more in the bordello than as a general servant; that would be where I went.” 
The heat of her embarrassment drained away leaving her pale and chilled as she contemplated confessing what she had done. “I thought my value as an herbalist might have outweighed what she’d have made from me in the bordello, and I had nearly convinced myself to stay around when Harner showed up.”
“Harner?”
“One of Garec’s friends, sent back to keep an eye on me.”
Johann was listening closely. 
Her skin was ashen, her voice ragged. "He followed me into the woods while I was collecting herbs and mushrooms, and attacked me.”
“He raped you?” Anger seethed in Johann’s voice.
“He tried,“ Pink corrected. “I fought him off, knowing all the time I was signing my own death warrant by doing so. He wouldn’t leave me be. I grabbed the first thing that came to hand and swung it as hard as I could. He wouldn’t have dropped faster if I’d shot him with an arrow.”
Johann grew pale. “You killed him?”
She nodded, wrapping her fingers around the warm clay mug of tea. 
Johann let out a low whistle. “I rather had you figured to be the runaway they rode through looking for when you showed up in my gardens.” He shook his head from side to side. “They never claimed you were a murderer."
For the first time since she’d begun her tale she dared to glance up and look Johann in the eye. The brightness she found there told her nothing. She quickly turned her gaze back to the polished floorboards. “It’s possible they never found his body. We were fairly deep in the woods when he came after me.” She would in no way allude to the possibility that the body had been found and the deed hidden.
Johann cupped a hand under her chin, forcing her to look straight at him. “I don't care about your past. I don’t believe people should be allowed to make slaves of other people.” His eyes saddened. “Nor do I believe a man has the right to force himself on a woman, no matter what her social standing. The problem is--Garec calls this village home.” 
Releasing her, he turned towards the mantel over the fireplace and pointed at a beautiful statue there, “I bought that from him.” He turned toward other items in the room. “My plates are from Telgar. Not many traders venture into Telgar these days, but Garec does.” Johann’s shoulders lifted in a shrug, offering no hope. “Rumor has it he has connections among the nobles there. Some think that makes him a spy, but nobody‘s certain if he spies for Ronan or Telgar. Some folk even believe he deals information both ways.”
How could her luck be so bad? “Why does he live here in this remote town if he travels so much?”
 Frowning, Johann said, “We may be small and remote, but Aldan is rather central to Swadan and Ronan’s capitals. It’s a good stopping place for him to layover between ventures.” Johann drooped, none of his usual cheerfulness remained. “He's often gone, buying and selling, but he always returns here. Sometimes he stays for a week, other times for months. He knows you're an escaped slave, even if he doesn’t know what happened to his friend. You would not be safe staying here.”
Pink‘s chin dropped to her chest. “It‘s worse than that. From his conversation in the market, it seems he purchased me from Mistress Henna on his way back--knowing he would have to hunt me down.”
Johann contemplated the dancing flames of the fire; for long moments he said nothing. When he spoke, she knew what the words would be. “You'll have to leave in the morning. The wheel has turned. Life does with us what it will.”
Nodding agreement, tears glistening in her eyes, Pink turned to the distraction of cooking the chicken, but she was so preoccupied it was very well done and dry when they ate it. She lay down to sleep, but spent the night tossing fretfully. Johann rose several times as well, moving about the main room of the cottage.
As the sun rose the next morning, a pounding on the door jolted Pink out of bed. Looking through the shutters of the window, she saw Garec. Fear gripped her as she hid in a corner of the small room she had passed the winter sleeping in. She listened closely as Johann opened the door. 








Chapter 5




"Good Morning, Johann." The deep baritone voice rang through the small house.
"Good Morning, Garec." Johann yawned.
"They told me in town, you have a boarder staying with you." 
Sounding deeply aggrieved and sighing heavily, Johann said, "Had a boarder staying with me. She came back from the market yesterday, upset because of something that happened there. Wouldn't tell me what. Said she couldn't stay here any longer and within the hour, packed her bag and left. Such a beautiful young woman, she brightened my days. I’ll miss having her around." 
"I'm told she was very petite,” Garec said, “with dark brown eyes and wild copper hair. Is this so?" 
"That was her. The copper of her hair was so brilliant it almost seemed to bleed into her skin. Even at the end of winter she was tanned. I thought perhaps she was from southern Swadan. They're the only ones I know of with that coloration." 
"Sounds very much like a young slave I purchased just last week from Mistress Henna over in Temn. I saw her on my way to Swadan—at that time Henna wouldn't sell. After I left, the girl ran away.” 
The glee in Garec’s voice made Pink cringe. “I bought her for half the cost of what Henna paid for her, since the trouble of running her to ground would be mine. I get home, and here you are, keeping her for me. Did she by chance mention where she was going, when she left?" 
"No, she was frightened. She must have seen you in the market. I don't think she had a plan--just packed her belongings and bolted. Putting her up all this time you'd think I'd have noticed a brand." Johann sounded bored, though the inflection on the last sentence indicated anger even to Pink‘s ears, and she knew it was an act. 
"Henna told me it’s on her left shoulder," Garec said.
Pink raised a hand to her shoulder and fingered the raised circle of scar tissue there.
"She always stayed pretty well covered up,” Johann said. “I just put it down to the weather. She could cook and clean. Helped me with the herb gardens, and was a good listener. I get lonely out here, so I don't ask many questions if somebody's willing to talk to me." Pink could hear the smile in his voice, “Or at least she didn’t yawn when I talked.” 
"Which way did she go when she left?" 
"Headed west,” Johann said hesitantly. “There's no telling which way she'll go once she pulls herself together and starts thinking. If she saw you, she won’t continue the way she left. Maybe she’ll go north, but that remains dangerous. Every now and then, Telgarn scouts still roam down out of the Rortags. On the other hand they do have wizards there who could remove her brand.”
Pink focused sharply on those words. She hadn’t known magic could do something like that. The only magicians she’d ever seen were traveling entertainers, sleight of hand tricksters. She knew the villagers called Johann a magicker, she had assumed he used to be an entertainer.
Johann strode in front of the door to Pink’s tiny room. She compacted herself tighter and warily watched him pace, heart thumping in an erratic rhythm. He scratched at an eyebrow, then looked back towards Garec, as though considering different possibilities.
“Maybe she'll circle around and head east to lose herself in Relante or one of the other larger cities in the center of our country. She was going in that direction when she arrived."
Garec walked across the room. Heavy footsteps that had traveled to her door each night at Hallowisp forced Pink to hold her breath, certain the pounding in her chest was audible. With perfect timing Johann's light steps moved back towards the dining table causing Garec to stop short of looking in the room. 
"I've heard tell you’re a wizard, old man. You seem fond of her; perhaps you already removed her brand." 
Johann laughed, a loud cheerless sound. "What small tricks I have couldn't even save my wife. Removing a slave's brand requires a Healer's skill. I've never been anything more than entertainment to the locals."
Garec grumbled, sounding doubtful, but whether Johann was a wizard or a magicker, it seemed Garec was reluctant to argue with the old man. He left, slamming the door as he walked out. Pink had no doubt he'd be taking off in pursuit as soon as he could gather his hired men. He would be headed west, as Johann had told him she had gone. The old man gave a convincing performance.
The road west traveled back to Hallowisp Manor. That direction was already closed to her. She decided to continue east; losing herself in the populace of a large city sounded like a brilliant idea. Although if there were truly wizards in the north, who could remove her brand— that direction appealed to her as well.
 Pink packed the patched clothing she‘d arrived with. Unsteady hands set aside the dresses Johann had taken out of storage for her—the lace and ribbons made them impractical traveling clothing.
Johann threw together a pack with some food in it, then dug through the closet in the room Pink had slept in. He handed her a couple of pairs of trousers and tunics that were only a slight bit too large. “They belonged to my grandson when he was something around twelve. Lucky for you, I never throw anything out.”
“Thank you,” she squeaked out in an unsteady voice.
When Johann packed a couple of changes of clothes in a separate pack for himself, Pink asked, "What are you doing?" Hope warred with doubt in her voice. 
"I’ve lived here far too long. I raised a son, and a grandson here, but my life wasn’t always so quiet.” His gaze fastened on one of the dresses she had set aside. Fondly he touched the lace. “Once my wife and I traveled great distances. We performed tricks to provide entertainment for small towns as a means of keeping ourselves fed. We were young and in love, traveling to see the world.” He closed his eyes. Pink knew from the slight grin that flickered across his face that his wife, Mari, danced in front of the blue veined lids. “We had some adventures, but when she became pregnant we settled down here and never left.” His eyes opened to glance around; pausing on items Pink knew once belonged to his wife.
“If I continue to live here by myself, with no one to talk to but the herbs, I'm afraid I’ll follow her into the grave sooner than later.” Grief, etched the lines of his face deeper, but he continued to pack. “These last three months reminded me how much I enjoy companionship. I think it will be better for both of us if we travel together." 
Pink knew she should argue. He hadn't been ill the entire time she’d been staying here; still he looked old and frail. His appearance did not suggest he ought to be journeying across the country without a goal in mind. 
The thought of having companionship overwhelmed these considerations, with a smile, she finished packing.
Johann went out to make sure Garec was not lurking. He returned, declaring nobody would see them leave with such certainty Pink did not doubt him, yet she could not prevent her gaze from darting around, searching for watchers. A tiny green gemstone caught her flitting attention, but when she stopped to pick it up, Johann hurried her past it. 
Conceding her lack of knowledge, she followed his lead. He turned southeast, traveling through dense woods on paths that were little more than animal trails. After a half hour they came across a dirt road much like the one she had traveled before. 
Johann mumbled under his breath and pointed at two trees, one on either side of the path. A tingle raising the hair on her arms made her think magic. He began walking north with confidence in his stride, the pallor of his skin the only evidence he'd exerted himself.
He wheezed horribly as they traveled the foothills of the Swa Caran Mountains. Pink was in excellent physical condition and brimming over with questions about where they were going, but she chose not to speak and force him to waste breath answering her. 
After four hours of slow, steady walking, Johann moved off the trail and walked unerringly to a large flat rock surrounded by several smaller ones. He flung his pack on the largest rock and began digging through it for trail rations. Pink did the same. She cast her mind back to her last wild flight and compared it to the orderly calm of this journey. She was glad of Johann’s steadying influence.
As they sat on the "chairs", Pink asked, "How did you know this was here?" 
"It's been a long time, but I used to come this way often. I have friends two days walk from here." Johann leaned over and massaged the calves of his legs, sitting back up he stretched them out and muttered, "Used to be two days, may be three or four now. I’m not as young as I used to be." 
"Won't Garec be right behind us?" Pink glanced toward the road, expecting at any time the merchant would figure out Johann had lied to him, and come riding after them.
A corner of Johann‘s mouth turned up. "He should be at least a day checking out the other directions. When he returns from the west and finds that I’ve disappeared too, he’ll try to track us.” Johann paused and grinned.  “The trails we took will show our footprints, traveling southeast. I didn't suggest that as a possible direction of travel for you, so he’ll assume we continued that way. I began erasing our tracks when we turned north. He won't know for certain which way we went, once we left the woods.”
Johann laughed as Pink spun around on her rock and searched the ground for footprints. “I’ve cast webs across the trail since we started, I’ll know when he’s coming.”
The explanation did not satisfy Pink. In fact it did little but arouse her curiosity. Inquisitiveness won out over manners. "How did you erase our footprints and what sort of web did you cast?"  
"Just trifling magics," he told her humbly. "As I told Garec, I'm known as a magicker, there are some small tricks I can do. Erasing footprints is nothing. It's a spell that can also be used for housecleaning. I create a small invisible broom to whisk away what's not wanted.” 
His eyes twinkled with humor, as her brows crept up her forehead. She added up his words with her knowledge of his home and figured out why his house had never needed cleaning. “The webs are a bigger magic,” he said, “they’re a weaving of earth energy I’ve stretched between trees on the path at major turnings. I’ve attuned them to Garec’s image. I must maintain contact with them and if we get beyond two days journey I won’t know if they’ve been broken.” 
Once all traces of their presence were cleansed from the large rock, they took to the road again. 
The sun disappeared behind the mountains, and Johann searched the sides of the road, staring at several different large trees before marching on. With the light fading from the peaks, he veered into the forest, turning in front of a towering oak tree. After climbing uphill, away from the road for nearly half a mile, Pink was sure he'd lost his mind when he turned towards a small pond and walked straight into it. 









Chapter 6




The dark water rippled and covered Johann to his hips. Pink stood on the bank of the pond, not quite sure what to do when he turned around and beckoned her forward. "Don't be afraid, you won't drown. These are waysides for travelers who know what to look for." 
He walked back to her, his clothes dry. Her mind couldn‘t grasp how it was possible for him to be standing in water and not get soaked. 
"You must believe that you will be safe, and it will be so. No one can find us here unless they also know how to find the Lodges." 
She stepped forward and water splashed against the shore line as it soaked her boot. She retreated hastily. 
In a calm voice he reassured her, "Believe that it's a place of warmth and safety. Close your eyes."  
She complied, and he continued on, his voice a soothing drone. "Now think of someplace warm and comfortable, where you've been happy." 
Johann's house came into her mind. It was the only place she'd stayed where she hadn't been a slave, or abused by her stepfather, since her mother remarried. "Now open the door to the place you’re at," Johann instructed. She reached out with a hand and lifted the latch on Johann's door. “Now walk into your haven. Mind the steps though." 
Steps did not fit with Johann's house and she almost opened her eyes. Somehow her mind merged the image she created with reality; she found herself stumbling into Johann's basement. A good trick since his home had no basement. "Now relax. Sit. Keep your haven about you and open your eyes." 
The basement of Johann's house, as it had come into her mind, greeted her doubting eyes. A ball of golden brown light glowed cheerily in a corner. When Johann moved, it trailed after him. Following her glance, he looked at the light and said, “Just one more small trick. It's wizard’s light.”
“You made that?” She questioned, her ears catching the word wizard instead of magicker. 
“Yes. As I said I know some small tricks.”
Pink looked at him, suspicion building. His small tricks were starting to add up to a much larger skill.
A small, well-worn table with two chairs occupied one side of the little room. A pantry filled with preserved food sat in a corner, and blankets lay over a pile of straw. They ate some preserved fruit and dried meat, then divided the pile of straw into two mounds and lay a blanket over each. Pink lay down and covered herself with a second blanket. The straw was a slight improvement over the hard ground. It scratched her through the blanket, but she had made do in much worse conditions. Tired from the day’s travel, she soon fell sound asleep. 
#
 She had no way of knowing how long she'd been asleep when a sharp tug awakened her. She sat up, disoriented, seeking what roused her from her slumber. Johann slept soundly; there was nobody else in the small room. Lying down, she closed her eyes again and found herself back at Johann's house. A pounding in her head correlated with the knocking on the door in her vision. This went on for almost five minutes. In her vision a hefty curly haired giant kicked the front door in. There stood Garec, along with three of his men. 
They seemed reluctant to enter the house, but Garec finally strode over the threshold and prodded at the pile of blankets Johann had left on the couch. The others followed and checked the bedrooms. "She's not here," one of the men said, as clearly as though she were in the same room.
 "Neither is the old man," growled Garec. "What would drive that old-timer to take off with a sixteen year old girl? She must be as good as I've been imagining. Pretty little thing. I haven't been able to get her out of my head." 
They took a last look around the house and with nervous glances over their shoulders before they left, closed the door behind them. 
Pink lay still, not quite sure if she was awake or asleep. Across the room, Johann awoke and sat up. He looked straight over where she lay. "The web at the house just broke," he said, noting her open eyes.
"I thought so," Pink responded, doubt coloring her voice. 
Johann stared at her, his intense gaze prodding her to explain herself. 
"It was like I was there,” she said. “I could see and hear them. They believe that you're with me." She stopped, her face flushed warmly. 
Looking at her in the dim light Johann said grimly, "It's like that is it? Well you've nothing to worry about from me, no matter what those men believe. I'm not like them. To me, you’re the granddaughter I should have raised." With a laugh, he added, "That’s a delightful shade of red you're wearing." 
The blood suffusing her cheeks burned hotter. Embarrassed, she explained, "That's where I got the name Pink from. I'm afraid when I was younger, whenever somebody mentioned my name I would turn pink from the roots of my hair to my little toes. My brothers all took to calling me Pink and it stuck." 
In all her time with him, she never mentioned her family, except for the stepfather who sold her into slavery. She saw the light of interest glow in his hazel eyes. "What name were you born with?" He quested gently for details.
"You have to promise not to laugh. It’s pretentious, and doesn’t fit me at all." 
"I promise. It can't be as bad as all that." 
"My daddy used to call me Bella, short for Bellana. In the language of one of his ports of call, it meant beautiful girl. I'm sure to daddy I was beautiful...” Shyly, she closed down, hesitant to say anything more about herself, even to this man who had shown her nothing but warmth and understanding.
"Hardly pretentious,” Johann told her, ignoring her reaction to talking about herself. “Do you think Garec wants you because you're plain?” He smiled at her discomfiture. “If we bought you a fancy dress and tamed that wild hair of yours you could fit in any Royal Court. And I know what I’m saying, I've spent enough time in the Court of Ronan." 
Pink’s jaw dropped. She would never have expected the compassionate old hermit to have been at Court. Grateful for his kind words she continued, "Daddy used to call me his beautiful princess. Momma would laugh at him and tell him not to swell my head. Life was good at home until daddy didn't come back from one of his voyages.” Pink sat twisting a copper curl around a finger, remembering the joy of her father’s love, and the grief of his final voyage. 
“He was a sailor. Not a captain or a merchant or anything grand, just a sailor, with a loving family. His ship departed for Ousta in the spring of my sixth year and when it sailed back into port two weeks late, half the men were gone. Daddy was one of the missing.” Pink’s voice broke. Tears fell.
“The mainsail of the ship was shredded and the hull was scarred with burn marks.” Pink’s shoulders shook as she mopped at tears with a sleeve. “Most of the men that survived, refused to go back out. Everybody considered me too young to be told what happened. Momma‘s tears and the condition of the ship told me all I needed to know.” 
Her voice quavered as she recounted the loss of her father. 
"I'm not sure anybody ever knew what happened. The sailors that returned wouldn’t talk about it. Rumor had it, the Cludon, Daddy's ship, was jinxed. She sailed twice after that time. The first time she turned back because of a terrible storm. The second time the sailors almost died sitting for weeks on a calm sea without a breath of wind.” The shuddering stopped as she recounted the ill fate of the ship. “When they returned from the second journey the Captain took her out of the main shipping lanes, a mile or two off shore and burned her.” As Pink spoke, she seemed to go into a trance. When she brought herself back to the present, Johann gave her a peculiar look. 
"After Daddy didn't come home, nobody called me Bella anymore.” The sleeve wiped at her nose. “Since my stepfather sold me into slavery, I almost forgot I had a name other than Pink.”
Yawning, she rolled on her back, anxious to steer the conversation away from herself. She stared at the globe of wizard’s light and asked, "Why was I there, when Garec broke your web?" 
The globe of light responded to Johann’s mood, darkening just a bit. “I would like to know the answer to that myself. My magic should have awakened me when they entered the house.” Confusion deepened the lines in his weathered face. “Instead it felt as though they had broken the web a second time, as they were leaving. Perhaps I was too exhausted to notice it the first time." 
"They were leaving when you awoke," she told him.
"Well we won't find answers tonight. We know where they are. I suggest we get some sleep." He lay back down, but Pink could tell she was not alone in her inability to sleep. 
#
The sun shone weakly through the watery ceiling. Johann rose and led her up the stairs. This time she kept her eyes open and it amazed her to see the water flow about her as though she were wrapped in a layer of air. "Where did the Lodges come from?"  
"Nobody knows anymore. They’ve been here as long as anybody can remember. They're mentioned in most of the ancient historical texts. When anybody with magic travels through the mountains and has need of a place to stay, they need only look for the Travel Oaks.” He pointed to the nearest of the behemoth oak trees. “They show the way. Food is always well-stocked, blankets are always clean, and the straw always fresh. Nobody ever sees the caretakers, but everybody who stays, leaves a token of thanks." 
So saying, he turned from the shoreline and placed a gemstone on the ground, similar to the one that had been outside his cottage. Pink knew enough about precious things to realize that this was not even close to valuable. In fact, it appeared to be little more than cheap decoration. She raised an eyebrow in unvoiced accusation.
 "You think I'm being cheap,” he said with a smile, “but you see only the bauble. It could be a chunk of granite for all the caretakers concern themselves. The value is not in the stone, but in the shield spell contained within.” He gestured to the stone and it melded into the nest of grass he had placed it in. “It will protect this place from being noticed by anyone without magic. When the next wizard or witch comes along, they'll reset the spell when they leave. Unless something else is requested that's the cost of a night’s lodging."
“Then how did Garec notice your cottage when he returned?”
Johann raised his eyebrows. “Saw that did you? Garec knew the cottage existed. He knew its exact location. That shield stopped anybody from seeing us leave. It was temporary.” 
"Do the Caretakers often request another type of payment?”
Looking up from the gem hidden in the grasses, Johann said, “Sometimes they need a Travel Oak replanted, along with the accompanying spells to speed its growth. Often they want nothing more than restocking the pantry. It's always something you're able to pay.”
“How do you know the price? It’s not like they left a note.”
Johann began walking away. “How they pass on their desire is a mystery. But if you stay in a Lodge, you awake knowing the cost.”
“Can all wizards do shield spells?" 
"Certainly. They're the first thing which must be learned when one starts mucking about with magic. Even if you never have to shield against an enemy, you must be able to protect mind and body from any backlash, should something go wrong.” The tight line of his lips, and the deep creases between his brows told her he’d seen things go wrong, more than once. “While teaching personal shields, the next logical step in developing an apprentice's skills is to teach him to create an area shield like the one I leave here.” His fingertips fluttered back toward the still surface of the pond. “This is a simple, 'On your way, don't notice me’ shield, but you can shield an area physically, to prevent danger from entering or leaving." 
"Could you teach me?" Pink asked, enchanted with the very idea of magic.
"I'll check tonight to see if you have a glimmer. I suspect you do after what happened with my webs this morning.”  His lips pulled downward in a tight line. “If there is even the tiniest glimmer, I'll instruct you." 
They left the Lodge behind but instead of returning the way they had come, Johann climbed to the summit of a small hill just beyond the Lodge. When they stood at the top, he turned her in a full circle and at each cardinal direction he paused long enough to point out the distinctive crowns of the Travel Oaks in that direction. 
Pink found it odd that there was a western line leading deeper into the mountains. When he spun her back to the north, she could follow the line of trees to where it joined once again with the winding brown ribbon of road. Without hesitation she followed them northward. 
Before they reached the road she felt the twinge of Johann's snapping web. Garec had wasted no time riding south. 
The terrain they traveled over became difficult. As the road ran higher in the mountains, Johann’s pace dwindled to a crawl. The sky began to darken, and Pink found herself searching for a Travel Oak. 
Johann noticed her watching the side of the road and smiled. "It will still be awhile until we come to the next Lodge,” he told her. “They are designed to be a solid day’s journey apart. Of course that means if you wish to use them you must do a solid day’s journey, and I've traveled much too slow." 
The pitch black of the new moon wrapped gentle arms around the travelers long before they found their goal. Johann hefted a globe of wizard light into the air above their heads but its light diffused into the rough landscape around them. Stumbling on, tripping on stones in the traveled way, Johann bumped into Pink as she stopped without warning, distracted by a soft green glow coming from the side of the road. 
Johann turned to see what she was staring at and turned from the massive tree, to look back at his traveling companion. "That is a Travel Oak. You must have a glimmer if you can pick it out of the forest with no light to see it by.”
Waving a barely visible hand toward the tree, she said, “When they glow like that, they are hard to miss.”
He scratched his head and looked back at the tree, sinking into a mild trance to view the energy of the tree, to be certain of what he was looking at. “Whether you’re aware of it or not, you're already using your glimmer. The trees don’t glow in the normal world, they glow to the second-sight--the vision you use to detect the magical energies.”
Following the glow from each tree they wound their way to the Lodge. This Lodge was built into a cliff of red rock; the entrance looked solid, but Pink followed Johann through with only the slightest hesitation. Inside, the Lodge was identical to the one they had stayed in the previous night and without even a pause to consider supper, they both made their beds of straw and lay down to sleep.
The following morning when her complaining stomach awoke her, the sun was well on towards noon. Johann was awake, but he too still lay in bed. 
After getting up late, feeling the aches of being on the road for two days, and being out of shape, Johann decided they would remain there for the day. After breakfast they went outside the Lodge and collected fresh mushrooms, and some wild onion, to cook with the dried ingredients in the pantry, into a stew for lunch and supper. After preparing the stew, Pink went out into the forest and collected some wild plants that she knew would dry before nightfall. 
As she wandered through the forest, careful to stay within view of the Travel Oaks, whispering wind soughed mournfully through the branches of the big trees. They seemed almost to be talking to her. She couldn't understand the words, but she knew if she could, they would convey tales of staggering sadness, of histories past and forgotten, of great deeds, and terrible deeds, done for the improvement of mankind, or for a single man’s lust for rule. They had witnessed many things in their long lives. 
Her expedition came to an abrupt halt when Johann's next web snapped. Following the Travel Oaks, she hurried back to the Lodge.
Johann sat outside the lodge in front of the cookfire, occasionally stirring the stew. He looked tired. Pink regretted the selfishness of putting him in this predicament. 
He looked up and smiled at her. "Garec's on his way north."
"I felt it.”
She sat down beside him and prodded the fire with a stick. “He won't find us here. Sooner or later he’ll pass us by and then we can be on our way to your friend’s house.” With great reluctance she added, “When we get there, I don't mind if you choose to stay. Just showing me these Lodges you have done much for me. I can't justify dragging you into my problems any further."
 He leaned forward and stirred the stew. Then turned to her with a look on his face more serious than she had ever seen there before. "You didn't drag me anywhere. I volunteered to come. I admit until I’m better conditioned, travel will be hard.” His lips twitched upward in a gentle smile. “I loved nothing more than traveling with my wife. It will do me good to be back on the road.” 
“What are you keeping from me?” It was obvious he had more to say.
He exhaled slowly, staring into the fire. Reluctant. What could be so terrible?
Speaking so low she strained to hear, he said, “While you slept this morning, I searched your aura for a glimmer.” The tiny smile fled before a pained expression. “It surprised me to find that you do not possess a glimmer, but a raging torrent of brilliance that is untrained magic.”
If he hadn’t been so serious, she would have jumped in her excitement.
“It’s so blinding, I can't believe I didn’t see it until I looked. I suppose I’ve spent so long denying my own abilities, I closed off the part of myself that would have noticed without conscious thought.” Johann’s hooded eyes reflected the dancing flames. “That is most likely what Garec is seeing when he desires you. He doesn't even realize it, but besides being a beautiful woman, you’ll have strong magic.” He stirred the stew and shifted uncomfortably in his cross-legged seat. “Without me to nudge your gift along, it would remain largely useless, still there but untrained and unseen. So you’ll not be getting rid of me so easily.”
Softness lit his features as he smiled at her. "Haven't you noticed things you could do that seemed easy, though they should have been difficult? An unexpected result to a task you were given to do maybe?" 
Pink considered his words and shook her head. "Until I ran away, I can't recall ever having anything unusual happen, accidentally or otherwise.” She grinned. “My stepfather sold me when I was eight. If I was so all-powerful and mighty, don't you think I'd have taken myself out of that situation sooner?" 
As she searched her past for anything that might fall into the category of unexpected results, she remembered the hound who had torn her arm to shreds before sitting back and letting her run away. She choked at the implication. She had made that happen. Wiping the earlier smile from her face she told Johann about it.
"Being a slave, I guess I can’t expect you to know what magical energy feels like,” he said. “Was your mother or father, a witch or wizard? Grandparents perhaps?" 
"I told you, my father was a sailor. My mother raised six children. We were always poor, and no, she never had magical help. I don't remember ever having grandparents.”
He continued to stare at her, apparently expecting that somehow she would reveal where this unseen and unproven energy he claimed she had, came from. 
"If my family had strong magic I would not have ended up sold. My father would still be alive and my mother would be preparing a wedding feast for my marriage to a handsome prince." She laughed at her vision.
 #
Johann grinned at her fairytale life. Many children were raised on tales of magic, and princes and princesses living happily ever after. 
In real life it didn’t happen that way. Magic helped its possessor do things most people couldn't, but only rarely did it come with a happily ever after. It was a responsibility which needed to be handled carefully, and if mishandled could cause harm to many.
The event with the dog told him she was able to tap into her energies. It would be far better if she knew what she were doing. A less caring person with her powers would most likely have left the dog a shredded bloody mess.
#
The thunderclouds returned to his brow. "Nevertheless, the magic is there. Together we must tame it, though I’m tempted to leave it dormant. Control of so much power is not always a comfortable thing.” He stood and began pacing. His eyes returned to where she sat as he paced, muttering quietly to himself and when he turned she saw him sink into the mild trance she now realized was second-sight. He returned, and stood beside her, looking down. 
His cloak brushed her elbow. “I will teach you. You may come to regret that I do so, but you can't rely on luck forever. Sooner or later it will show itself again, and it’s not always a pleasant display.” He walked toward the Lodge then returned to the fire. Pink didn’t understand how anybody could find this less than amazing but Johann seemed to be angry. 
Still mumbling to himself he stopped beside her again. “Latent energy often makes itself known in a blaze of sudden uncontrolled power, in correlation to strong emotion. Anger, fear, or pain can bring about some terrible things. Somehow you controlled it with the hound. Even those with training can damage the people and the world about them if something unexpected happens.” He paced to the first Travel Oak and returned. The battle in his mind played out across his face. “Knowing how to gather and use energy often makes the emotional releases worse, but it also makes it less likely to happen if you have control.” He nodded to himself, finalizing the decision in his own mind. “I think we’ll use today to begin training you. I must rest, so there is no time like the present.” 
Pink set her plants out on a rock, near the small cookfire to cure them, using the double heat source of sun and flame. 
By the time she finished this task Johann composed himself. He bade her sit beside him and close her eyes. His voice betrayed none of his earlier anxiety as he urged her to relax. 
“Picture your body getting lethargic, one small part at a time. Concentrate on your toes and put them to sleep then move up to the ball of your foot. When you're completely at ease, look through closed eyes for your aura.” 
She concentrated on her toes and tried to empty her mind of what Johann had just told her. But with the news that she had the potential to be a powerful witch, she found concentration beyond her. His cautions reared their ugly heads, only to be dismissed by her excitement at the possibilities this would open up to her. Even her big toe stubbornly refused to go to sleep. Opening her eyes in frustration she saw Johann watching her carefully. 
His expression brought home again the fact that this turn of events did not totally delight him. "You must control your mind. Do not let it rule you. If you can't rule your own mind and body, you cannot hope to master the magical forces within yourself.”
 She closed her eyes again as he continued speaking. “Seeing your aura is only the first step of a very long trail. You must become familiar with your energy before you can use it" 
Her chin dropped to her chest, trying to relax, trying to tune out the distractions of birds and bugs, the heat from the fire, and the whispering of the Travel Oaks. Most difficult of all, she strove to calm her internal distractions. After what seemed like forever her mind quieted. Her feet and legs numbed, going to sleep as she willed them. Excitement at success brought her right back out of it. She opened her eyes again, to discover she had been sitting there for several hours, it was mid-afternoon. 
Johann was nowhere to be seen, but the stew, simmering in the pot, smelled delicious. The plants she laid out to dry were curing nicely. 
She stood up and was surprised to find that her toes and legs had in fact gone to sleep. Her mental image of them was still wide-awake, but the physical aspect felt as though they were being stabbed with thousands of pins. Carefully, she limped over to the Lodge and through the stone wall. 
Johann was rummaging through his belongings. He smiled as she joined him. 
She returned the smile, followed by a grimace meant to convey the futility of the day's exercise.
 "Went that well did it? Don‘t worry, you'll learn to do these simple exercises with your eyes open, and as you're moving. Nothing worth learning is ever learned in a single day." He pulled a bowl out of his pack, and she went to find hers. For doing nothing all day, she was ravenous. 
They ate in silence. With the meal finished, he poured the rest of the stew into one of the glass jars from the Lodge's pantry. The heat, sealed the jar and he grinned at her and said, "See, magic, am I not the greatest wizard you ever met?" 
She grinned at his jest, but then said, "As a matter of fact, you are the greatest wizard I've ever met, since you‘re the only wizard I ever met." 
"While you were performing that exercise Garec broke the web on the road near the first night’s Lodge. I'm rested. We have time to make some distance and still get off the road before he gets this far.”
Pink shook her head, “Why don’t we just wait ‘til morning. There's no rush.”
“I’m not at all sure I could sleep after doing nothing all day. My friend’s house is before the next Lodge, I'm hoping we'll get there tonight. If not, I've slept on the ground many times, and we have our supper." Pink picked up the drying plants. The ones that finished curing she took down and placed in the Lodge's pantry. 
Johann looked at her in amazement. "How did you know the cost of lodging?" 
"I didn't, this seemed the correct thing to do. We stayed two nights and had three meals, it only seemed proper to return some." 
He smiled approvingly. "The caretakers will be pleased to see you grow into your power. When you can pay in magic they'll receive great gifts." 
After packing their belongings Pink led the way to the northward line of Travel Oaks. They strode swiftly toward the distant road, hoping to finish the journey before nightfall. 
Twilight darkened around them as they both felt the twinge of the next web breaking. They increased their pace for a time but using wizard’s light would give away their position and without it, the tiny sliver of moon in the sky was insufficient to light their way. 
Travel was easier here as the road wound its way to the lower slopes once again, but they would not complete the journey this night. On horseback, Garec could travel much faster than they; Johann decided to call a halt.
Moving off the road, they set up a small fireless camp. The stew had remained warm in the sealed jar. They rapidly ate, and prepared their bedrolls. Without a Lodge for protection they took turns standing watch. Two hours after they stopped, hoofbeats drummed down the road. Pink remained motionless, sweat chilling her back, heart fluttering. Magic was too unfamiliar for her to trust Johann's, "don't notice us" shield with her freedom. 
She smelled the lather of the ill-used animals and heard the creak of poorly kept saddles as they raced by without slowing. Cautiously she exhaled, fearing that the rapidly disappearing men might hear even that small sound. As the moon fell towards morning she woke Johann, told him of the riders passing and lay down on her blanket to sleep. 
Drifting off, she found herself willing her toes to sleep. Through the fog of exhaustion she felt them respond. She worked her way up her legs, then started on her fingers. When she completely relaxed, and the only thing awake was her mind, she was blinded by the ability to see her own aura. 
Many different colors fed into the brilliant white at the core. Earth tones—muted greens, browns, and blues dominated the pattern. Following them outward she saw them connect to the trees and earth and water around her. Glowing with success she allowed her mind to drift off to sleep. 
All too soon Johann shook her shoulder. Still basking in her success, she told him what she had done and how her aura had appeared. He smiled at her happiness, then crushed her with the pronouncement, "Now you must learn to do this with distractions, and while wide awake.” He paused and looked at her with a scrutinizing gaze. Then asked "You truly saw other colors?" 
"The green was strongest, then the blue and brown but yes there were others as well." 
He sank into a light trance and focused on her. "I don't see them when I look at you. I don’t know what they could be. I would guess they are the power of your spirit, the strength of your ancestors.” He shook off the trance. “ Possibly they're just not strong enough for me to see at this time around the glare of your core." They walked back to the road and continued north, constantly prepared to dodge into the forest's concealing embrace if Garec gave up the search and returned. 

Chapter 7


The sun was just starting to dry the dew on the morning grass when Johann led Pink down one of the infrequent paths branching from the main road. An hour later they followed the path down a steep hill, through a creek and up to a cozy stone house, built there in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by a large field of cleared land. A rustic log barn stood behind the house, the squeal of newborn piglets carried to their ears, as they stood at the edge of the fields.
No fresh hoof prints marked the trail; still, Pink searched the surrounding forests for a trace of motion. Nothing moved, other than the normal gentle sway of branches in the wind. They approached the house with caution. 
Peace and quiet ruled here. Johann’s rapping on the door of the small house returned a distant echo, floating back from the far end of the valley. 
Nobody answered, but Johann sat on the porch. "He'll return shortly." 
Pink rested on the bottom step, taking in her surroundings.
In the middle of the field, a brown and white milk cow and her calf munched grass under a large maple, tails lazily swishing insects. 
Three horses grazing by the forest's edge caught Pink’s wandering gaze. There were two mares and what looked like a yearling colt. The mares were both light chestnut with flaxen mane and tail and the heavy build common to farm horses. The colt did not look the least bit similar. If one of the mares was his dam, the sire must have been a handsome animal. The refined build of the colt, displayed musculature that even Pink could see would develop into a powerful animal. His coat was coal black. A few white hairs streaked his mane and tail, and a small white star lit the middle of his forehead. 
She had never seen a more beautiful horse. And she had spent a good deal of time in the stables at Mistress Henna's, admiring traveler's horses. Dreaming of the places she'd go if only she could ride. As she stared at him the colt lifted his head and looked back at her. A flicker of white in the forest caught Pink’s attention, but as she searched for what was out there, all remained still.
Dismissing it as a wild animal fleeing deeper into the forest, she turned her attention back to the colt. He glanced at one of the mares, and nuzzled her neck, then trotted across the field to where Pink sat on the lowest step. 
His muzzle dropped into her hand and she gently stroked him, moving from his soft nose, up his face and down his neck. She stood up to better reach the rest of him and when she got to the withers he leaned into her and all but rubbed himself back and forth. 
Her arm started to hurt from the pressure of scratching him, the lumps of scar tissue formed around shredded muscles ached, she sat back down. Standing in front of her with a relaxed look on his face, the colt contentedly dropped his muzzle to her now still hands. 
Johann did not move while she scratched the colt. As horse and girl relaxed, he shifted the position he was sitting in. The colt's head came up and he skittered off about five feet. When the motion ceased he returned to Pink. 
A shout reverberated up the valley. Pink couldn’t make out the words carried on the wind, but the tone was friendly. At the sound of the voice, the colt took off like black lightning, racing back to the mares. Pink and Johann watched the man moving up the valley, on the path which meandered between the small stream and a freshly plowed field. When he got closer Johann went to greet him. 
After a hearty embrace the two men stood back to see what changes time had wrought to an old acquaintance. "You're looking good Tomas," Johann said. 
"You look… better. It's been so long, I never expected to see you again," Tomas replied. "What brings you my way after all this time, and who do we have here?" 
As they walked up the steps Johann introduced Pink and gave a brief bit of her story as way of answering both questions. She shook hands with Tomas and he gave her an appraising glance. "I understand how you could bewitch a man, but would you explain what you did to my colt?"  
She pulled her hand away, but he squeezed tighter and reached over with his other hand to push the sleeve of her shirt back to reveal the lumpy scars. He soothed her fears. “Don’t worry girl, any friend of Johann’s is safe in my house. It’s just...your arm is gray.”
Pink stared in confusion. Her arm wasn’t gray. It was a patchwork of pale white and angry red. 
It didn’t enlighten her any further when he turned to Johann and said, “We’ll take care of that tonight.”
His eyes assessed her, rising from her injured arm, to her face. He smiled to put her at ease and returned the conversation to the colt. Waving down the field he said, "That runt is almost two years old and I haven't yet had a hand on him. Spooks and runs the second I walk out the door. Won't even stay with his dam if I'm using her to plow, not since the day he was born." 
Pink returned his smile and looked across the field to the thirteen hand tall colt. "He came over and dropped his nose in my hands like he knew me and I was his best friend.” She stretched her shoulders forward then relaxed, “Wore my arm off scratching him, but when Johann moved he ran.” Looking back at Johann’s friend she said, “Maybe he's just a woman's horse, we used to have a couple of ladies’ mounts at Mistress Henna's stable, didn't much care for men." 
"Who's his sire?" Johann asked, staring at the colt. 
"Reckon I can't answer that question,” Tomas told him. “By the looks, I'd say one of the King's hunters lost their mount. I don't run fences except around the gardens so he could have wandered through. If that's what happened, I don't know why the colt’s such a runt.” The frown he turned on the colt, left little doubt of his opinion of small horses. “All the King's horses are top grade warhorses; even the ones his hunters use. At least they were during Caryon's rule. Warhorses tend to make Bess and Millie look small." 
Staring at the surrounding forest as though half expecting the stallion to return after all this time, Tomas continued, "Old Bess has had several foals before, but usually I planned them. She hasn't ever had one that looked like that. I don't rightly know who his daddy is, but as far as I'm concerned, he can come take him back.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Pink couldn’t believe anybody could find fault with the colt.
“He'll never be big enough to plow, that's all he is at twenty-two months. He won’t be worth the effort it's going to take to train him. He's not a ladies’ horse, leastwise, not all ladies anyway 'cause he won't let my wife near him." 
Johann‘s eyes lit. "Speaking of Terri, where is she? I hope she's doing well?" 
Tomas looked down the field. "She'll be here. I heard you walk through my shields like they weren't even there and rushed back here to see who had decided to visit." 
As if summoned by her name, Terri appeared down the valley where they had first seen Tomas. 
A large woman with handsome features, Terri looked well able to handle any problem that might come along, and she was hurrying now in case Tomas was in trouble. Pink easily saw the stout fishing pole carried over her right shoulder turning into a deadly weapon if necessary. She shuddered, remembering when she had swung just such a branch in self-defense. Terri’s other arm looped through the handle of a basket carrying freshly caught fish. When she arrived, introductions were made and they all went inside. 
Pink’s mind whirled—the colt had absolutely captivated her. She wondered if she could talk Tomas into letting her have him. She didn't have any money, but just maybe; if Tomas thought him worthless he'd be glad to see his tail go down the road. She had never owned anything, not even the clothes on her back. Not that she was at all certain having the colt go with her would mean she owned him. He seemed rather independent.
Terri hung a pot of water on a hook over the fireplace and made tea for everyone. 
When they were all seated, Johann looked over to Tomas and asked, “Do you mind if we stay here awhile? Pink needs to stay out of sight and I could certainly use some good honest farm work to get me back in shape.”
“As long as you’re planning to work for your keep you’re more than welcome, Johann.” Tomas smiled broadly, then turned to look at Pink and said, “Of course any friend of Johann’s is also welcome. Stay as long as you like.”
“I can help out as well,” Pink offered, much more sure of herself than she had been a few short months ago when she’d met Johann. “I can cook, and clean house and I’m good around an herb garden. I have seeds I collected from Johann’s garden.”
Terri smiled, “The gardens are already coming up. Though I’d be glad to see if you have anything I don’t. Mari and I always used to exchange seeds.” She stopped and glanced at Johann checking for a reaction to his wife’s name, but he and Tomas were engrossed in their own conversation. “It’s not too late to plant.”
After tea, Terry took Pink out and walked her through the herb gardens.  Many of the plants were just starting to peek through the soil. Many more beds were dormant, awaiting longer, warmer days before venturing up. Pink recognized the unruly patch of hardy spearmint that had flavored the tea. When they rounded the corner of the house to go in, Pink looked back, delighted to see the colt following at a discreet distance. 
Later that evening, she discovered exactly what Tomas had been saying about her arm. He explained how the aura faded to gray in areas where the body was receiving poor blood flow, or was in other wise damaged. He laid his hands on her arm and she felt a warmth flow through the injured tissue. In amazement she saw the lumps smooth out and the skin stretch to a smooth though bruised surface. For the first time in months she was able to wiggle her fingers without being reminded of the dog that attacked her.
She looked up in gratitude and saw the gray color of Tomas’s face. He looked about ready to pitch forward and she jumped to her feet to help him only a tiny bit slower than Johann, who seemed to be awaiting this reaction. With one of them under each arm they followed Terri into her and Tomas’s bedroom and laid him on the bed. They left him there for Terri to undress. 
In the living room in front of the hearth, she turned to Johann. “He’ll be all right won’t he?”
“Of course he will.” Johann reassured her, “He expended a great amount of energy to do what he just did. That’s why he didn’t do it earlier in the day. He knew he’d be out the rest of the night.
#
As the days passed she learned the valley by heart.
Sitting with the colt, in a nook above a waterfall where the creek dropped fifteen feet to form a small pond, she practiced the small exercise Johann had given her.
At first she only managed to relax her mind sporadically. Each time she succeeded she was greeted by the brilliant white glow, fed by the rainbow of colors. 
The colt stomping, insects buzzing, or a change in the rhythm of the falling water, brought frustration, as the distraction made her lose her tenuous grasp. But as the days went by, her energy became more familiar and accessible. 
One day, as she leaned against a tree, completely relaxed, viewing the swirling brilliance she moved her hand to pluck at the strands of color. It amazed her as she watched the multi-hued tints that formed her hand of spirit, move slowly through the currents of energy. She flexed her arm, rotating her shoulder forward and turned her head to watch the glow separate from her physical form. 
Remembering Johann’s warning that if her energies became too depleted, the filament that connected body and spirit could rupture, she wrenched her hand back. 
The speed she withdrew into her body, and brought herself back to consciousness, left her with a throbbing headache. As she stood to return to the house, the colt tried to block her. She waved a hand at him and started around. The fine black head followed her, his lips pulled at her hair. The sharp tug brought her up short, and before she could react, he pressed his nose into the curve of her neck and blew gently. The throbbing in her temples dimmed.
He herded her back to the tree. Recognizing that he had just removed her pain, she tried to do as he was demanding. She leaned back against the tree and attempted to send herself back to that calm state. The oddity of the colt’s actions and a persistent fear of tearing the filaments prevented her from repeating the feat. 
The next time she stood she scratched his nose and explained that it just wouldn’t work that day. They would try again tomorrow.
He was waiting when she stepped outside the next morning. He pushed and prodded her in the direction of the waterfall. She waved to Johann who had emerged just behind her. “I’ll be back.”
Johann shook his head and watched the colt's peculiar behavior, but made no move to stop them.
As she relaxed, the small black horse stood over her. She found herself able to separate her spirit from her physical substance, stand up and move about while her body reclined against the tree. 
This was far more than Johann had told her to do. But it seemed a natural progression of the exercise she'd been doing. 
Moving away from her body frightened her, the silver glowing cord that connected body and soul, stretched and thinned as she moved away. 
She floated above her supine form. The colt’s eye tracked her spirit as she roamed, testing the limits of where she dared to go. She circled a nearby tree and watched to see if the silver cord would snag. It bisected the tree and panic flooded Pink’s mind as she thought it had been severed. She retraced her movements and was gratified to see the cord emerge from the tree trunk intact. She played with the idea of walking through the tree, but uncertainty overwhelmed her sense of exploration.
After her success, she spent days becoming familiar with and perfecting this magic. Then, choosing a place much closer to the house, she went in astral form to find Johann. 
Relaxing into the grass, her spirit left instantaneously and the colt stepped over her. 
Making her way to the door, she stopped and considered it. 
Out by her pond everything was much too dense for her to find the courage to meld with it. With great hesitation she put a hand through the door. After retracting and extending it several times with no damage, the rest of her slowly followed. At the table, Johann stopped talking. He glanced about but failed to follow her position the way the colt could. 
A wild, terrified whinny erupted from outside. From the clarity of the sound reverberating in her mind the colt must have his head right next to hers. The panicked sound brought a resounding answer from the forest. 
A strident, deep, challenging neigh rang through the air and vibrated the magical energies around her. A glowing white form appeared at her side. He was the most sensational creature she had ever seen. She stared at him in disbelief. What she faced existed only in fairytales. But here he stood, called from the forest by the stress of his son. The similarity in conformation was plain to see.
Johann and Tomas stood from the table, their eyes searching the corners for the unfamiliar presence. “Pink?“ Johann called uncertainly. He sank into a trance and the white form herded her none too gently, back outside. As soon as she returned through the door the colt settled down and the white aura disappeared, gone back to wherever its body lay hidden. She merged with her physical substance, and the colt moved to one side to allow her to rise. 
She looked at him in awe, knowing him now for what he was. 
There had been no mistaking the family resemblance. The main difference besides color, was the golden spiral of horn glowing from the middle of the adult’s forehead. "Don't worry," she told him. "Your secret's safe with me. And I won't go out of your sight again." She rubbed her hand over the white star on his forehead; now that she knew to look, she noticed a slight thickening of the bone. In the adult that density was needed to support the horn. 
She wondered if the colt would ever grow a proper horn or if he would remain anonymous as a half-breed. Having seen his sire, she did not doubt that he would grow much larger. He would most likely mature at a slower rate than a pure-bred horse. Everything she knew about unicorns, which admittedly was only the stuff of legends and tales, said they lived much longer life spans than horses or even people. It made sense that he would mature at a much slower rate. 
Johann and Tomas came out the door and down the steps at a run. As she looked at them she saw their auras without even trying to. Tightly coiled power awaited release if she required their assistance. The rich golden brown power of the bones of the earth emanated from Johann. Dark green, the power of the living earth, suffused Tomas. The energy dimmed as they saw her petting and soothing the colt. They stopped, so as not to chase him off. 
Now that her spirit and body were one, he nuzzled her side and pushed her towards them. As if to say, "You go explain it to them, you should have known better than to go where I couldn't see you." With a flick of his tail he disappeared down the valley to join the mares. 
Johann approached and demanded an explanation. “What did you think you were doing.”
She flinched at the anger in his voice. “I’ve been practicing what you told me to. I’ve gotten to where I can relax and see my aura without a moment’s hesitation. I learned how to separate some of that energy and leave my body behind.” She registered Johann’s surprise, fading to irritation, but finished explaining herself. “I wanted to show you what I’d taught myself, but my guardian angel didn't like it when I projected through the door out of his sight." She glanced toward the colt with a smile, realizing she had just named him. 
"I felt you enter the room—then he screamed." Johann nodded at the diminutive form at the opposite end of the field. "I swear I felt another presence enter the room and then you were both gone. But I couldn't identify the other aura. You just scared years off my life girl.” Gaze fastened on the black shape hiding behind one of the large plow horses, he asked, “Was it him?" Even Johann didn’t look like he believed it could have been. 
Pink shook her head and tried, with little success, to look repentant. "One of Angel's friends came to retrieve me, to calm Angel's fears." She hoped Johann would leave it at that. If it became important she would tell him the rest of the story. But if the unicorn had been there all this time and not made himself known, she didn’t think he would appreciate her telling the men about him. 
Tomas glanced at the colt down the field and muttered, “Angel... Bah... I’d have named him Demonspawn.” 
Johann frowned. He surveyed the forest, anger faded. He spun back to her and said, "If you maintain consciousness he shouldn’t be so concerned when you project. In order to do that, you must learn to partition your mind. There must be a small core of you that you can leave behind to maintain animation.”
“What difference would that make to him? He is able to watch my spirit, and he stands guard over my body.” Pink stared from Angel back to Johann.
“If you need to move, partitioning allows you to do so. You wouldn’t be defenseless. He would be more secure knowing you could care for yourself in an emergency. Once you have that control, I'll teach you other magic. With your familiar you should be able to progress rapidly." 
"Familiar?" 
Tomas stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That would explain why he stays with her." 
Johann smoothed back wisps of white hair and turned to Pink. "A familiar, is a spirit that watches over you and sometimes instinctually assists when you use your power, they are bonded to you. If that doesn't describe this little guy I don't know what does." 
Pink decided not to argue. As Johann described familiars, Angel most certainly fit the description. Only she knew he was so much more. 
"I suppose," Tomas said, "that means he'll be going with you when you move on.” He shrugged. “Oh well, doesn't do me much good, small and flighty as he is." 
"Move on?" Pink questioned. She hadn't been aware that they were even discussing moving on. 
"Not just yet," Johann told her. "I'd like you to become more practiced while we have the luxury of safety and privacy but I can't infringe on my friend’s goodwill forever. You will see, there are many exciting places to go, things to see, people to meet.”
Excitement at the prospect of returning to his old way of life shone in his eyes. 
“I've been thinking we could travel as my wife and I did, performing as magickers to earn our way to Relante. The gold and silver I brought along won’t last far beyond Trell. I would like to go to the capital and see if perhaps my grandson has survived his time as a soldier. It would be good to see him again." 
"That sounds like as good a plan as any I might have.” She turned to where Tomas stood watching the small black colt, “And Tomas, thank you so much for Angel." 
"Don't thank me. Keeping him here would be something akin to boxing up the wind. Separating a familiar from his witch is one of the most difficult things in the world to do.”
“Still, thank you so very much.”
“He will probably come to accept you projecting through doors and being out of his sight for short periods of time. But try doing something he thinks is unsafe and see if you can't make him crazy." 
Sorrow crept into Tomas’s voice and his face took on a haunted expression, similar to the one she frequently saw on Johann's face when he talked about magic. "Many are the times during the last campaigns that I wished I had a familiar. My skills just aren't that great. I could have saved so many more lives if I’d had that help.”
Johann wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders and said, “You did what you could. We all did what we could. At least you were saving lives.”
Tomas focused on the ground. Then looked up at Pink, the haunted expression buried under his usual mask of cheerfulness. "I'm small time. Johann is ten times the wizard I ever was. You couldn't have planned for a better teacher if you‘d been looking. It’s odd, the way the Gods get things done." 
Johann smiled and chided his friend for putting down his own skills. "I may be able to do more varied magic, but you my friend, are the greatest Healer, King Caryon had in his command. I would like you to work with Pink and teach her how to Heal with her magic, she is quite skilled with herbs, but we both know much more is often required to save a life. I think she will be able to master the magic of Healing, since she is strong in the earth related energies.”
Tomas pushed his hair out of his face and stared at her with that blank look Pink had come to associate with the use of “second-sight“, as Johann called it. When his eyes focused he said, "I would be happy to teach her. She is very strong in the energy of the living world. Green is dominant. She should be able to learn, just tell me when.” 
"One thing at a time,” Johann said. “Once she gets partitioning down, she can start on Healing. I'd like her to learn from you, but we need to be on our way before it gets too far into summer or we won't make Relante before the snows come." 
As soon as the men went back into the house, Angel returned.
He gently grabbed Pink’s tunic with his teeth and pulled her toward the woods. She reached over, scratched him between the ears and laughed at him, "All right, I get it, I'm coming." 
They walked far into the dense, deciduous forest until Angel stopped in a secluded glade surrounded by tall old oak trees, reminiscent of the Travel Oaks. She sat down at the edge with her back against one of the trees and relaxed, thinking about what Johann had said about partitioning her mind. 
Sending her mind into deep relaxation, she attempted to project. It happened as she had practiced so many times before, and her body slumped forward unconscious. She retreated and tried again. After several more tries she quit in frustration. She obviously needed to get Johann to give her further instruction. 
Having come to that conclusion, she sat back and relaxed, enjoying the quiet. She was glad Johann had spoken of moving on. She liked it here and she found it restful but she was ready to see more of the world. Her eagerness faded as she pondered whether or not Garec would still be searching for her. If learning Healing took anywhere near as long as the exercise she’d just learned it would still be awhile. Perhaps waiting awhile longer would be a good idea, and it would not be so boring if she was learning something new.
Johann became more fit with every passing day, helping Tomas with the chores on the farm. Both old men took the easy way out of chopping wood and used their magic but moving and stacking it required greater expenditure of energy than simply bending over and picking it up did. 
It delighted her to be learning how to use her latent magical skills, but at sixteen years old, she was finding life on the small farmstead suffocating. If not for Angel, she didn't think she'd have been contented even this long, now that she knew he would go with her, she was ready to travel. 
On the far side of the clearing she thought she sensed motion. When she looked, nothing stirred. Angel too peered into the trees directly across from where she sat. She looked to where his eyes focused and as she watched, Angel's sire stepped from the forest into the dappling sunlight of the glade. His voice rang in her head. 
"Welcome." 

Chapter 8




Pink stared at him in awe. If anything more beautiful ever graced the earth, she had never seen it. Every muscle sharply defined, the skin stretched tightly over tendons and ligaments. He stood over eighteen hands tall, he would have dwarfed even Bess. The brief glimpse she had of him in astral form had not prepared her for the stunning beauty standing in front of her. 
The sun glinted off his white coat, and the eighteen inches of golden horn, gleamed blindingly. She jumped to her feet and did her best curtsey, which was woefully lacking in grace. Never before had she felt more like she was in the presence of royalty. 
In the back of her mind, deep laughter floated, rich and mellifluous. "We do not use human customs, though I recognize and appreciate the courtesy. I am called Lorn. I apologize for earlier. My son panicked, I did not know exactly what was wrong.” He turned a censuring eye on Angel. He will get used to you disappearing but you must be mindful of his emotions. He will become more comfortable with other people as he matures. Then he will not be so afraid for you.” 
He cocked his head quizzically to one side. Then snorted softly, sounding surprised. “I have been here in this grove for more than three years to make sure my son would be well taken care of until he grew large enough to assert himself. It pleased me to see you arrive. You are the reason he is here." 
Moving across the glade to stand in front of her, he brought the scent of lilacs with him. He looked at her as though she were a curious new being. She stood firm under the scrutiny that pierced her, when he smelled her, and snorted again. In quiet tones she wasn’t sure he meant to project to her, she heard, “I did not expect this.” But he did not clarify that thought.
"I must admit to having had my doubts as to the necessity of creating a half-breed.” His eyes rolled skyward. "Eina told me my son's human would assist my dam, and…others who are important to the herd. I did what she asked. 
Too stunned for words, Pink’s jaw hung open. How could she possibly help the dam of such a great creature? 
“When you arrived in the valley I knew you were the one we waited on. I am anxious to go home, I have other responsibilities. He will care for you always, but you in turn must care for him." 
"I will," she said breathlessly. "Will he ever be able to speak with me as you are?" 
"With half-breeds you never know which attributes of which parent will carry through strongest. Some have been able to mindspeak. As a rule we crossbreed only when it is deemed essential by a higher being.” He glanced at Angel. “Occasionally mistakes are made and the resulting foal is little more than a big horse.” He paused and once again gave her that piercing stare, accompanied by a gentle inhalation. Pride touched his tone when he said, “This time was no mistake.” 
She felt there was a double meaning to his words but she had no idea what he was attempting to say. His tone turned lighter and he glanced at his son. “Occasionally all that's missing is the horn. Angel is exceptional—by the way, he and I both like the name—if you notice, he even has silver flecks in his hooves. His color comes from his granddam but I do have a handsome son.” Behind him, Angel shifted uncomfortably as though embarrassed. Lorn continued, “Bess is a smart enough mare as horses go. But I'm glad he takes more after me." 
"Will he grow as large as you?" she asked. 
"Probably not quite as big,” he told her, “but certainly large enough to carry you. In an emergency he could carry you now. Unlike a horse, he can use magic to strengthen his joints while they are still growing, but it is best to wait at least another year.” The golden horn swung towards Angel. “He will not reach a full, mature height for at least another five years. He will consent to wear a saddle and bridle but they are not necessary and nobody but you will ever be likely to get them on him." 
She looked at him shaking her head. “Even if he’ll allow it, I haven’t the slightest idea how.” 
"You will learn.”
His tone was so certain she did not argue.
"I noticed you trying to do as the old wizard instructed," Pink could hear a smile in his mental voice. "What he wants you to do is not easy. I can help you to understand the way to do this if you wish." 
"I would greatly appreciate it," she said. 
No sooner did she say this than he dipped his horn down and touched her gently between the eyes. As gentle as he was, she felt the tip slice through her skin. A drop of blood rolled down her face. In the back of her mind she knew this for a deadly weapon. She was not afraid. 
Warmth enveloped her mind and when he removed his horn she knew that she would be able to perform the exercise Johann had given her, better than if she had spent months practicing. 
"You must now learn Healing from the man who lives in this valley, then you must be on your way. Great things are moving in the world. You and my son will be needed." 
He withdrew the horn from her forehead. She felt a slight burning and reached up to touch the place he had sliced. She found only a tiny scar. If not for the bright red droplet on the surface of the horn, which rapidly disappeared, and the one still moist on her cheek, she would not have believed he cut her at all. "I am honored to have met you. Care well for each other, Daughter of the Wind." With that statement, he turned and at the center of the grove disappeared, leaving behind little more than a wisp of sunlight. She remained sitting in stunned silence.
He was honored to meet me? I think he's got it backward. The moment he disappeared, questions flooded her mind. Who was Eina that she could command a unicorn? Where was Lorn's dam? Who were the ‘others‘ he mentioned? How could Pink possibly assist anybody? An escaped slave had her own concerns. If a unicorn as grand as Lorn couldn't help his dam, what was a sixteen year old runaway supposed to do? Why her? Why did he call her Daughter of the Wind?
She turned to Angel, amazed to see a single large tear rolling down his face. She wouldn’t have believed he could cry. That tear told her his sire had disappeared from the valley, changing his life forever. 
"Don't worry," she gently told him. "We will care for each other now." Angel lay down beside her, resting his head in her lap. As she sat there, she put her new knowledge to use. With joy she sent her spirit wandering through the glade, while her body with just a miniscule shred of intelligence sat gently stroking Angel's neck. Even with this split, Angel’s eye tracked her through the glade, daring her to try to disappear. 
# 
That evening after supper, Johann and Tomas sat with her around the table. "When I told you to learn the relaxation method to view your magical energy, I didn't foresee you being able to project yourself with no further instruction.” A small amount of color suffused Johann’s cheeks. “Tomas berated me for my error. I know how much potential you have. I should have monitored your progress more closely. What did I tell you was the first thing anybody with magic should be taught?" 
Pink thought back to their trip and answered, "Shields." 
"Correct. Perhaps if you had the ability to shield properly, your Familiar would not get so distressed when you venture out of sight.” 
The two old men exchanged nervous glances and both looked out the window to the forest where they now knew some unknown source of magic lay.
Used to lay. She corrected the interpretation of that glance. She pondered whether either of the men would believe her if she told them the truth about exactly what had lived there.
Tomas took up the speech, “Without shielding, your body and your spirit are vulnerable to attacks, both physical and magical. Angel is very wise to worry so much about you. I'll teach you the mundane part of learning to Heal while Johann teaches you shields."

 # 
She applied herself to learning the skill of Healing. In order to heal the human body she had to know a great deal about how one worked. She was ahead of the game with the knowledge she’d learned studying herbs and how they affected different ailments. But a large amount of time was spent learning the facts of human physiology. 
She and Johann worked side by side with Tomas and Terri, seeding the fields, hoeing the weeds, and in the first months of summer, harvesting the early crops, while Johann coached her on shields and Tomas quizzed her on anatomy. When he believed she firmly grasped anatomy, Tomas began telling her how to use the green energy of her aura to remove scar tissue, and heal wounds, internal and external. Johann helped her learn how to view other peoples’ auras to tell where a problem might lie in their physical well-being.
Shortly after the early summer crops were harvested the two men were confident she had a firm foundation in the art of Healing. She started performing the basics, like, knitting skin over a scrape Johann got when he had climbed up to her nook by the waterfall. 
She placed her hands over the scratch and channeled some of the energy of earth, envisioning the wound closing and new skin growing. As the wound on Johann's leg closed Pink's eyes widened at the burning sensation on her own leg. She looked down fully expecting to see the wound transferred to herself. Reassured that no blood ran down her own leg, she mentioned the pain to Johann
Johann smiled at her. “We wanted you to know you could Heal before telling you of the pain. Many promising young Healers never find their gift because the fear of pain stifles their talent. The scratch was minor, merely an irritation. Larger healings require more personal sacrifice.”
Gently he explained the phenomena to her. "Healing comes with a price. You must take the pain to yourself, to allow the casualty to heal. The pain will not cause you any damage, just discomfort. You must give of your energies to knit together muscle and grow skin. That is why for minor things, like this scratch, magical Healing is not normally used. The scratch would have healed on its own and caused me very little discomfort, so why should a Healer suffer for it?"
Gazing at the newly formed pink skin of the wound he smiled. "This time, it created a very good way to start. You will be taking care of all sorts of minor wounds for now. Only through experience can you be ready if you ever need to Heal anything more serious.” He turned to leave, then twisted to look back to her. “However I think that our time here is over. We have imposed on good friends far longer than I ever intended and I would dearly love to see if I can find my grandson. If you've no objections I would like to go to Relante." 
Anxious to be going but dreading the exposure to those who may be watching for her, she said, “As long as it doesn't take me anywhere close to Garec, I don't care where we go." 
"Don't worry. I intend to continue north, and when we get to Trell, we'll turn east, and then south to Relante.”
He considered her problem. “I dropped the webs when Garec returned south so we‘ll have to use caution. You never know where he'll turn up. Like I said before, he travels a lot. As a merchant, he also has a lot of folk that will keep their eyes open for him if he asks." 
The next day they said their farewells. 
Terri hugged Pink. "You’re the closest thing to a daughter I've ever known. If you get back this way you had better stop to see us." 
Angel matured during the months they spent there. He stood in the group, as close to Pink as he could possibly get, but no longer terrified of the others. Ready to follow wherever she led. 
Chapter 9





The months of farm living left Pink and Johann fit. An easy pace brought them the day’s journey between Lodges. It disturbed Johann at the second Lodge there was sign that people had been there recently, but it seemed they had camped near the Lodge and not entered within. 
“Is it so unusual for a Lodge to be used?” Pink asked in response to Johann’s frown.
“It isn’t that common. But it would bother me less if they had gone in.”  Johann pointed to the remains of a campfire and Pink could see where sleeping rolls had been spread. At least four horses had been picketed. One end of a tie line had left abrasions on a Travel Oak. Nobody who had the magic to use the Lodges would have tied a horse to a Travel Oak. 
Whether they could use the Lodges or not, these strangers knew of them, and knew how to follow the Travel Oaks to locate them.
That evening Pink and Johann set wards while within the Lodge. Pink already regretted leaving behind the safety of Tomas’s farm.
She was too distracted that evening to do as Johann coached. But every night thereafter, they worked to perfect the act they planned to perform. All the tricks were easily explainable as sleight of hand. Pink practiced enough to become adept at a couple of card tricks and making flowers appear from nowhere. 
Pink used every scratch as an opportunity to practice Healing. 
Johann endeavored to teach her to use her energies to perform true magic.  He showed her how to sink into the trance-like state and expand her awareness from her own personal energy to the magic of everything in existence. “Now reach out and follow the dark brown strand to its source.”
She followed it away from her body and tugged on it as it connected to the ground. Angel whinnied as he slipped and slid down the stairs to join them in the Lodge and chased Johann to the opposite side of the too small room. 
Pink followed the brown strand down through layers of earth, the glow from the magic lit a sphere around her. Even in astral form she became aware of the gloom, and she could feel the crushing weight of the earth around her. In terror, she retreated to her body. For long moments she could do little more than lean against a wall, sucking in cool twilight air, while Angel pushed her with his velvety muzzle.
When she was able to think with a clear mind again, she said, “I can't go through the ground.”
“You only have to become more familiar with the freedom of your spirit. As long as you remain with an energy line you'll be fine no matter where you happen to be. Had you followed it, you would have found that the strand of energy you followed led you to a rich mineral deposit.” He sank back into a semi-trance state. “Tantalite, to be exact. A very useful mineral in its natural and magical form. It lends strength to magical spells. Deposits are common around Lodges.” While he had her attention he plucked at other browns. The shades varied from gold to burnt umber
The next day she experimented with the greens as they walked. 
She was surprised to find that there were few surprises with the living energy. When she plucked a strand, she knew what she would find at the other end, and she knew its strengths and weaknesses.
She was surprised to note there were also varying shades of blue, from the sapphire common to many in Relante, to a cool, soothing, cerulean. Neither she or Johann knew what the differences were, water was not his strength.
Once she familiarized herself with as many different shadings as she could. Johann instructed her in the basic knowledge of creating illusion, starting fires, and shifting items with a simple thought.
The teaching was proving to be a hazardous occupation. 
Two weeks after they left Tomas’s home they stopped for the night at one of the Lodges under a mountain pond. They built up a pile of wood, and having explained the theory of fire starting several times, Johann said, “Tonight, you start the cookfire.”
Pink looked at him with wide eyes, her voice trembled. “Are you sure?”
Johann smiled, “With the energy that courses through you, a fire shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve gone over this. You can do it.”
Pink looked at the logs, neatly stacked in the fire pit. Tentatively she pointed a finger at them. She wavered uncertainly and looked beseechingly at Johann. 
He encouraged her, “Reach for your energy. All the different branches are capable of starting small fires. If you wish for a major display you would need to have the scarlet energy of a fire master." 
Pink could see the scarlet around campfires but it never responded to her will. 
Johan continued, "I only have the power of earth and I've always been able to start fires.”
Pink grimaced. Johann read her hesitation wrong. She didn’t doubt she could start a fire. She had been experimenting on her own with other things he’d given her basic instruction in. Many of them seemed to go wildly wrong. Concentrating, she reached for the energy of water. When dealing with fire, she decided water would prove the least hazardous. She visualized the energy leaping from her finger to the logs. 
It obeyed with enthusiasm. Embers spread throughout the lodge as the stack of wood blew apart. The pile of straw caught on fire, quickly spreading to the blankets and pantry. Glowing embers landed on the table and the chairs. 
Pink panicked. Johann stood in the middle of the swirling maelstrom and called up piles of dirt to smother the straw fire.
Whether it was Johann’s use of magic weakening the binding spells on the pond, a simple protective spell left on the Lodge or if the Caretakers themselves were roused to action, they’d never know. But the Lodge went from the destructive force of fire, to the destructive force of water in a heartbeat. The water from the pond above their heads flooded into the lodge. Pink found herself swept against the wall, struggling past the table toward the surface. She grasped Johann’s tunic as he was washed by and with an instinct born of fear she stroked toward the surface only to run into the shielding which normally kept the water from the Lodge.
Before panic had a chance to wrap itself around her mind the water subsided. Leaving behind a charred, sodden mess. 
Their packs were waterproof but the pantry was destroyed. They sat amidst the ruin. Pink hung her head. Johann surveyed the damage and did the only thing he could. He laughed. “Maybe we should be grateful you do not possess the energies of fire. I’m not sure I want to know what the Caretakers will demand for tonight’s lodging.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Pink’s lips as she looked up at him. “I guess this'll be my mess to pay for.” She dug through the bits, setting the small room to rights. The pantry and one of the chairs she piled on the stack of charred, muddy straw. “How do you suppose the water came down to put out the flames?”
The table was still useable, as was the second chair. Somehow one of the blankets escaped unscathed and Johann draped it over the table to dry. “I don’t know but I’m glad of it. At least there are some pieces to salvage. The damage is minimal.”
He called this minimal? “I suppose I should gather more wood. We’ve enough supplies in our packs to make supper. Tomorrow I'll gather what I can to replace what was in the pantry.” Pink stared at the wreckage in dismay. 
Johann explained. “You and I were not injured. Material things can be replaced.”
Pink felt the swelling knot on the back of her head, where it had connected with the wall and thought ruefully, if that was uninjured, she didn’t want to experience injured.
 Together they went out to gather wood in the fading evening light. The room was dry and warm when they returned. They were amazed to find fresh straw and dry blankets, in place of the charred, damp, foul-smelling pile they had left there. Johann looked at Pink, whose jaw hung open in amazement and repeated, “I do not want to know what they will ask for.”
They cooked supper and prepared to sleep. As her eyes grew heavy, Pink noticed a shimmer in the air near the steps of the Lodge. She stared at that place, but nothing manifested. She concluded it was her imagination and nodded off to sleep.
In the morning Johann stretched and said, “That’s odd, all this damage and all they wish for is the usual shield.”
Pink’s mouth stretched into a thin line. She searched the corners of the lodge, then concentrated on the place she had seen the shimmer the night before. She shook her head, negating Johann’s comment. “I told you last night, the cost would be mine. How do they put these thoughts in my head?”
Johann looked at her quizzically. “What thoughts? What are they asking?”
She pursed her lips. “I do not think they are brave enough to ask for anything from me magically just yet. I must do as I said and replace what supplies I can. For the furniture that is destroyed and the extra straw and blankets, they said I will one day be asked for payment.” She did not look directly at Johann, but spoke to the air in a raised voice. “I do not like being in your debt. We don’t know who or what you are. Just make your demands now.” 
Lowering her voice to a normal level she turned to Johann. “What might they ask for? Are we not nearly to Trell and about to leave the mountains?”
Johann looked to the empty place by the stairs where she directed her comments. “What little I know about the Caretakers, I've already told you. I have no more idea what they may wish for than you. Another week should bring us to Trell. If they don’t collect before then, I don’t know what they’ll do.”
Pink shrugged, and started for the stairs, sidestepping the area where she had seen the shimmer. It reminded her of the way Lorn had disappeared. “For now I'll get what I can, but I don't know if many of the herbs will cure before we move on. The sun is warm, but unless we wish to owe them for another night we need to be on our way before noon at the latest.”
“I'll dry what you find with magic. I'll even teach you the theory behind drying plants, but I hesitate to ask you to do it, since it deals with heat.” He laughed.” It would be a shame for you to have to start collecting again just when you thought you were done.”
Pink grinned in agreement and disappeared up the steps. Angel chose to remain outside the Lodges most nights. Though when it rained he would venture cautiously down the stairs to take up a good portion of the little room. Now he accompanied her through the woods, frequently pointing out plants she overlooked. 
Later that day they continued their journey. Johann told her he would concentrate on less dangerous magics for now, such as illusion and moving things without touching them. 
That evening they again found signs that non-magical folk had visited the Lodge they stayed at. They did not take up magic lessons again until the following night.
To Pink's chagrin they discovered that moving things with her powers was also hazardous. She sat outside the Lodge and Johann had her picking up small pebbles and placing them from one pile to another, guiding them with a weak strand of light brown energy.
He went inside the Lodge to cook supper and Pink began calling the pebbles to her. One by one they whizzed past her head and they would not obey her as she struggled to slow down their flight.
She managed to avoid all but two or three of the first pile But then her wild, uncontrolled spell turned its attention to the second. She yelped as the small pebbles and some of the larger rocks Johann had used to build a target for her took flight and winged her way. She would be wearing bruises for several days.
Johann emerged from the Lodge shaking his head and muttering, “Control, you need to learn control.” And set her about another round of monotonous tiny tasks, which left her sweating as she battled for finesse.
Trell was one of the northernmost towns in the kingdom of Ronan, nestled in the foothills of the Swa Caran Mountains where they joined the east-west running, Rortag Range. The Swa Caran rose sharply to tie in with the Rortags. Together they surrounded the north and west sides of the town, protecting it from the weather, bringing plentiful supplies of water to grow crops. Rich minerals were dug from caves deep in the slopes. The town had grown rich and strangers were viewed suspiciously. 
For their part, Johann and Pink returned the townsfolk's suspicion, eyeing each citizen, wondering if they were Garec’s lackeys. 
Pink wore her hair in a tight braid, completely covered by a dark grey scarf. It was too warm for bulky clothing so Johann cloaked her skin in an illusion, covering the copper tinge with a pale white sheen. 
Johann stopped a man and asked, “Is there an inn?”
The man answered curtly, “Down yonder,” pausing just long enough to point down the main street to a rambling wooden two story building near the northern edge of town. 
Pink looked wistfully at the mountains. She had no desire to leave them. She also hated leaving the debt unpaid. How powerful was the magic of the Caretakers? Could they reach out and demand payment if she wasn’t anywhere near a Lodge?
They rented a room for the night and put Angel in the stable. Pink warned the stable boy not to go close to him. Her words were reinforced by Angel’s bared teeth. She groomed him, fed him and hugged him goodnight. He wrapped his neck around her shoulders, reluctant to let her go.
Pink and Johann ate and retired to their room. As the evening wore on. the crowd downstairs started getting loud. Pink found herself wishing they were in a Lodge. 
Worried for Angel, she started out the door but Johann held her back. “That horse of yours can take care of himself. He’s too small for anybody to want to steal, he’ll be just fine. You on the other hand, might find yourself in trouble if you wander down those stairs right now.”
Pink flung herself on the bed. “Where did all these people come from?” 
Johann grinned at her petulance. Less than a month ago she‘d found Tomas‘s farm too quiet. “This used to be a little farm town very similar to Aldan. But one day a boy chasing his cows out of the foothills to winter in the lowlands noticed something yellow and shiny churned up by the hooves of the cattle in the water of the Canar River.” Johann shrugged, waving a hand outward to indicate the town in general. “He told someone, who told someone, who decided it might be worth checking the boy’s story. They panned in the Canar and discovered gold. They started digging in the mountainside and now most of the gold that gets stamped in Relante comes from here. Most of the men downstairs are miners.”
“But we didn’t pass any of them on the way here. Do they never travel?” Pink asked, becoming interested despite her worry.
“They travel from the mines to town, and back. Their lives are as secluded as the farmers. When they do travel they tend to go east from here. As you may have noticed there is no place to go on the western edge of Ronan unless you want to visit a small town. East and south, there are bigger towns and cities. Places they can spend their money.” He stopped and patted a pocket in his tunic. Pink had long since figured out he kept his gold there. “We’ll stop at the general store tomorrow and purchase supplies, then we'll start east. We’ll need to buy some things for our act. Tomorrow will use the last of what I brought along. We'll have to start earning our keep."
Pink lay awake long into the night, listening to the bits of conversation that floated up the stairs. She became interested at one point when a loud and very drunk man started talking about monsters roaming in the Rortag Mountains. “Lef’ over from the war they are,” he slurred. “Seen ‘em wit’ my own two eyes. Monster’s what looks like nothin’ natural an’ shakes the earth when they walks.”
“Ye ain’t ne’r seen thet un, Josen,” somebody else argued. “Some as ‘eard it, but ain’t nobody ever went off huntin’ it, ever come back to tell about it. It‘s been out there s’long as anybody can r‘member”
“Ah did see it,” Josen argued back. “It were way off ’n the distance, but it were close enough fer me ta tell it weren’t natural an’ ah didn’ wanna git no closer.”
“You won’t ketch me in the Rortags I don’ care how rich the mines are,” the other voice responded. “The earth shaker’s not the only strange critter out there.”
“I been twice, Kory an‘ I ain‘t goin‘ back,” Josen declared. “Saw a wolf the first time. Put an arrow dead center in ‘is chest, an’ he went down. Then he got up and come toward me, draggin’ the arrow and all, blood streamin‘ down the shaft. Big as a horse he was. I turned tail an‘ run, I reckon the arrow at least slowed him down some ‘cause I‘m still ‘live ta tell ‘bout it. Second time I went, I seen the earth shaker an‘ thet were ‘nough fer me.”
Kory agreed, “Ain’t no ‘mount of gold worth goin’ in thet range. I’m jest glad they seem content to stay there.”
The men started talking about other things, including some lewd stories about women and Pink’s interest faded. She drifted off into a deep uneasy sleep, peppered by nightmares of monstrous wolves and unnatural creatures so large the earth shook as they walked.
The following morning they went to the general store and bought what they required before leaving town. Several people were present. Pink recognized one of them as Garec’s friend from the market of Aldan. He wore an apron and was checking the supplies throughout the store. Pink laid a hand on Johann’s arm and discreetly nodded her head in the curly haired man’s direction. “Does he live in Aldan.“
Johann turned as though considering some wool blankets and observed him. “No, but I've seen him there on occasion. You have a good memory. He's one of Garec’s associates. “ 
The shopkeeper looked at them sharply, looking at Johann uncertainly. Pink felt the examination of second-sight, something she had become attuned to in the past months. She returned the searching glance and strengthened Johann’s illusion with one of her own. 
Depending on the strength of the shopkeeper's abilities, he may already have pierced the thin disguise by the time she felt him searching so she added a large hooked nose, warts and a hideous twist to her spine, to the illusion. He flinched and surfaced from the trance, blinking his eyes rapidly trying to dispel the horror of what he now believed she looked like under Johann‘s illusion. She didn‘t know if he was powerful enough to have pierced Johann‘s illusion but he would be uncertain now what he had seen. 
Johann just shook his head and turned away from the shopkeeper, laughter silently shaking his shoulders, a smile curling his lips.
The man could not get them out of his shop quickly enough. He didn’t charge them for some of their supplies so great was his hurry. Johann dealt with him but blue eyes strayed nervously to the diminutive girl by the old man’s side. Witch’s and wizard’s in general were not feared, but everybody grew up with the fairytales of the evil witch Pink had pulled the image from. 
Leaving the store, Johann’s laughter could no longer be contained. Mirth crinkling his eyes, he turned to Pink and said, “You took a big chance in there. He was not powerful enough to have seen through my illusion." 
Pink was more subdued. “Why would he even check? Surely he doesn’t scan all his customers?"
Johann nudged her with an elbow, guiding her away from the store, back toward the inn stables. “Next time we come to a town large enough to have shops like this I'll show you how to detect their protection spells. He knew you were wrapped in illusion as soon as we walked through the door.” Johann lengthened his stride, “There’s also a good chance he recognized me, in the same way I recognized him. I‘m sure Garec would have passed on descriptions even if the man never saw me in Aldan.” The chuckle returned to his voice, even though he schooled his face into a frown. “With your poor control, you took a large risk doing what you did, but I have to admit, I enjoyed it.” 
He led the way in silence for a moment, then turned back to her. “It is unusual for one with as small an amount of energy as he, to even try to see through an illusion. Most shopkeepers only use the detection spells so they are aware they're dealing with magic.” Johann elbowed his way through a group of men, then continued, “I suspect we do have Garec to thank for that effort, pitiful as it was.”
“You think Garec actually set others to watching for me?” Pink glanced around, fingers of ice crawled up her spine, as every innocent glance cast their way took on a more sinister tone. She took the lead and tugged Johann along to the stables. 
“I’d say that seems to be exactly what he’s done. What did you do to him out there at Hallowisp?“
Pink felt her cheeks heat up. “I didn’t do anything. Maybe like you said, he saw my magic.” 
Johann nodded. “Sometimes I wish I wasn’t such a stubborn old fool. I never once turned second-sight on anybody in Aldan. I didn’t want anybody there to know I had magic, and I didn't care to know if they did. If Garec has the ability to see, like his friend back there, he may think he can control your power if you belong to him.”
 They packed what they could into their own bags and with Angel’s willing consent, rigged up some packs for him to carry the rest of their belongings. Leaving the stables, they traveled east, following the road paralleling the Rortag mountain range. 
There were frequent turnings of smaller roads to the south, but to the north it was barren of any sign of human habitation. Pink found herself remembering the tale told by the two drunken miners.  

Chapter 10





Angel wore a rope around his neck, but unless somebody approached, he usually held the end of it himself. He learned to make a game of tossing the rope and catching it, then swinging his head so the dangling loop would wrap around his neck and not trip him. Once over his initial shyness at leaving behind the only world he’d ever known, Angel entertained them as they walked, nearly treading on their heels. It surprised Pink when he spun and galloped back the way they had come.
He returned shortly and pushed them off the road. Respecting Angel’s reasons, Johann swept the road behind, removing all footprints. In a very short time the boy who had been sweeping the floor in the general store, and a man they recognized from the inn, rode by. Angel, Pink, and Johann hid in the forest until the dust rising from the horses’ hooves could no longer be seen.
The riders did not return, so conceivably they were just passing through, but that night Pink and Johann's camp was well concealed and their supper cold.
Two days journey brought them past a village the size of Aldan. Remembering the riders, Johann cloaked himself and Pink in illusion. They took advantage of the small audience to practice their act and managed to earn a meal and a night’s lodging at the inn. 
The evening of the third day saw them just beginning to set up camp, when a traveler came barreling down the road, riding hard. 
He wore the loose shirt and sturdy pants of a simple farmer, and cradled the slight form of a child in front of him. The horse careened to a halt just as it was about to pass. With splayed legs, and drooping head, it refused to move beyond Angel in spite of its rider’s frenzied insistence.
“Where are you headed?” Johann called out to him.
The man stopped trying to force the horse to move and answered in a voice thick with weariness, “I’m on my way to Trell to find a Healer. My son was injured by a Telgarn.”
“And where is the soldier now?” Johann asked, concerned about the possible presence of one of the enemy.
“Dead.”
The stranger’s white face spoke his exhaustion. Johann stepped in front of the warhorse as it staggered, threatening to fall. He peered at the child, noting the pale skin and shallow rise of his chest.
“Get down,” he told the farmer, gently, but in a tone of voice which left no doubt he meant to be obeyed. “We may be able to help.”
The man handed the child down to him and Johann laid the boy by the roadside. 
Rid of his burden, responsibility turned over to another, the stranger pitched forward and slid down the horse’s neck, landing with a resounding thud. 
The boy’s pulse was weak and erratic.
Dried blood covered the left half of his face. Pink gently felt the rest of his body and checked his aura, searching for the wounds that were not visible. 
She had been instructed on how to check for broken bones and to feel for torn muscles, and the pooling of internal bleeding, but this was the first time she had put that knowledge to practical use, and she had not expected to need it in such a desperate case, before she was more skilled. 
Johann watched closely, nodding every time she looked to him. Confirming every injury she found and checking to be certain she missed nothing. The head wound was the most deadly. A broken arm, and torn and swelling muscles in his chest would also need attention. 
Without hesitation, Pink gently cleaned the dirt and dried blood from the wound. The jagged cut laid open his skull, but the worst of the injury was the swelling and bruising underneath the bone. She searched within herself. Tugging a strand of the healing energies of the living earth she stemmed the excess flow of blood to the injury, and closed the scalp wound. The skin of her face twisted in a grimace. 
Fighting the nausea brought on by pain, Pink sought the energies of water and used them to cool the site and remove the swelling. With the head wound healed, she turned to the broken arm. Johann helped her pull it back to its proper position and she healed that as well, reaching for the minerals provided by the brown energy of the earth to knit the bone together.
One arm dangling at her side and her head reeling in pain she turned and touched the boy’s chest, but she felt Johann’s hands on her, pulling her away.
“He'll live. An important part of being a Healer is to know when you're beyond your limits. Do what you can, but if it isn't immediately life threatening don't push yourself. Your pain may only be phantom pain and will dissipate shortly, but imaginary or not, too much pain can kill a Healer.” 
Pink attempted to stand and a wave of dizziness brought her down, to sit beside her patient. An anxious Angel came forward and gently touched her shoulder. A small wave of energy flowed from him and her pain relented, leaving behind only a slight throbbing in her temples.
Cautiously she stood and turned to the boy’s father. He had passed out before he hit the ground. The warhorse stood over him, head down, still breathing hard. The mare appeared to have run a long distance. 
Johann stared at Pink, then checked the father and declared, “He’ll awaken on his own.” Together Johann and Pink pulled him over beside his son. 
Stripping the saddle from the horse, Johann cooled her out and tied her to a nearby tree. 
Pink gathered and piled deadwood, the headache threatened to overwhelm her again every time she bent over. Angel hovered just over her shoulder.
When Johann finished with the horse, he came over and with a small controlled burst of energy, started a fire. They ate supper and finished setting up camp for the night.
#
The man had said he killed the soldier that injured his son, but where there was one, there was often more. Johann took the first watch. 
When he woke Pink, somewhat past midnight he reported all quiet and she took a position a short distance from camp and settled down with her back against a rock and a drowsing Angel watching behind her.
 Early in the morning, with the moon casting an eerie glow over the forest, Angel tensed, focusing sharply on something behind her. Cautiously she turned to see what had caught his attention. In the distance, barely within sight, she caught the faint motion of a large dark form slinking from tree to tree.
When she could discern what crept steadily closer to her position, Pink’s pulse raced. She reached for her staff knowing it would be of little use. The only time she had heard tell of a wolf as large as the one that now approached, was in the tale the drunk miner had told back at the inn. And an arrow to the chest hadn’t stopped that one. At least, she consoled herself, he’s not as big as the one that man claimed he saw. Quickly she scanned for a pack and was relieved to see no others.
Angel stomped a hoof and snorted. The wolf stopped, nearly disappearing into the ground. When he reappeared, he was considerably closer. Pink jumped to her feet and ran towards camp to awaken Johann. Before she traveled five steps a deep voice brought her up short. 
“I smell blood,” the tickle in her mind was reminiscent of Lorn speaking to her. 
She stopped, turning slowly back to the wolf, sweat trickled down her back, as she fought against her instincts—which were telling her to awaken the wizard in all due haste. She thought back at it, “There is an injured boy here.” 
“Will he die?”
“No, I saved his life.”
The wolf’s disappointment permeated her mind through the connection. “Then I’ll be moving on. I must find food.”  He stood upright, rising to a little more than half Angel’s height, then disappeared back the way he had come.
Pink sat back down, her trembling legs turning to jelly, trusting to Angel to let her know if the wolf returned. The rest of the night passed quietly. She woke Johann just as the sun’s rays shone over the horizon.
The stranger still lay beside his son but his color had returned. He looked to be resting peacefully rather than sleeping like one of the dead. Beside him, the boy too looked restful. Blood still streaked his face in a pattern tracing back through his light brown hair to the wound that no longer existed. His breathing was labored from the swelling in his chest, but both looked well on their way to recovery.
Johann dug through the packs and came up with breakfast. “All quiet?” he asked.
“We saw a wolf earlier this morning. A big wolf, but he was alone, and left peacefully when he knew we’d spotted him.” 
She tactfully omitted the part about speaking to it. Johann was a good friend and he obviously saw a lot of potential in her, but she wasn’t quite sure he would believe she could speak to animals; some animals anyway. She wasn’t even positive she hadn’t dozed off and dreamed the whole thing. She‘d been having nightmares since Trell. “He stood over half Angel’s height. I’m glad he wasn’t hungry enough to try to make a meal out of us.” 
To herself she wondered why he hadn’t at least attempted it. He had admitted he was looking for food, yet he had simply left. She knew she hadn’t struck terror in him. Perhaps Angel? “Between these two,” she said nodding at the two still figures on the ground, “and this wolf, I’m beginning to think maybe we should have some weapons besides our walking staffs.” 
“We have magic, Pink. We can shield against violence, and a bolt of fire is far more effective than an arrow or a sword. I wouldn’t begin to know how to use either. I’ve always relied on magic and it’s always been more than enough.” The gloom that clouded his face when he spoke of using magic returned.
Pink considered asking what he found so horrible about magic but she decided if he wanted to tell her he would. Asking would get her nothing. Either he’d tell her it was none of her business or he’d ignore her. A man did not discuss the pain that was evident in his face without being ready to do so.
Back to the matter at hand, she said, “Still, you haven’t yet taught me how to cast a bolt of fire,"
Johann snorted laughter. "Just try to start a campfire on that mountain top over there and you should be able to level it."
"But is magic reliable? When that wolf crept towards camp last night the only thing that came to my mind was to awaken you. I didn’t like feeling defenseless. The old stories tell of how magic failed, usually just as it was most needed. I would feel more comfortable if I knew I could defend myself if I had to.”
“Magic has never failed me,” Johann said. “I’m afraid I can’t teach you to use weapons. Maybe when we get to Relante my grandson can help you.”
Over by the remains of the fire, a voice said, “I can teach her.”
“What does a farmer know of weapons?” Johann asked, turning to the man lying behind him.
“I was a soldier in King Lorth’s army. I was nearly killed in the campaigns against Telgar. They left me up here to heal. A farmer volunteered to keep me until I recovered.” He glanced at the slumbering form of the child. “Long story short, the farmer had a beautiful daughter. I married her, we had a child and I never left. I owe you my son’s life. Teaching the young lady to handle weapons is the least I can do.”
Blushing at the ‘young lady‘, Pink considered his offer, not sure if Johann would care for this delay. 
“You may stay at my home,” he continued, pushing himself up to an elbow. “My weapons are still there. I also have access to weapons which should be more suitably sized for you, Lady. We live too close to the border of Telgar to let my skills go.” 
A tight lipped nod from Johann told her, he wasn’t happy about it, but it was all right. 
She accepted the offer enthusiastically. “That would be wonderful. I would be grateful.”
Leaning up on an elbow the farmer touched his fingers to his forehead, “Sergeant Dylan Marner, at your service, and in your debt, Lady. The good spirits were watching out for my son, when they brought you my way.” A look of confusion flickered across his face. “I still don’t understand why the horse stopped beside you, unless perhaps you can speak to animals.” 
He was too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the flush that burned her cheeks. She hadn’t stopped the horse. She had a fair idea who had, but Dylan’s comment was too close to her earlier thoughts. 
Johann scowled at the man still lying by the campfire. “There haven’t been any who can speak to animals in hundreds of years.”
Pink was glad she hadn’t said anything about the wolf.
Pushing himself to a sitting position, Sergeant Marner said, “Whatever the reason, I’m glad she stopped. The only Healer in this area I thought had a chance of healing Jon lives a couple of days hard ride south of Trell, and I don’t know if my son or the horse would have made it there.”
“The horse stopped because she was nearly dead,” Pink said, looking over to where Angel stood dwarfed by the mare. Had her stopping been his doing? “And you must’ve been going to Tomas. He taught me Healing. Did you know him from your time as a soldier?” 
Stretching muscles, stiff from the tension of the ride and the unplanned dismount, Dylan said, “No, I’ve met him since I’ve lived in this area. He fought for King Lorth’s father. Those of us who remained here in the north formed a loose knit group of border guards. It’s only practical to know the location of all the Healers in the area. Tomas is the best there is.”
“That’s what Johann kept telling me while we stayed with him,” Pink agreed.
“Johann?” Dylan questioned.
“That would be me, I'm Pink’s grandfather, and mentor. I served with Tomas in King Caryon’s Army.”
“I remember Tomas mentioning you. He said you were a great wizard.”
With a rueful shake of his head, Johann said, “At one time that may have been true, these days I'm very out of practice.” With a swift change of topic, he continued. “Good fortune brought you our way. Your son wouldn't have lasted another day. How far had you ridden?”
“Nearly two days and nights, as fast as that beast could carry us, stopping only now and again for water.”
“Pink's right. She wasn’t far from dying either. No matter how strong they are, horses can’t go non-stop that long,” Johann chided.
“I'm well aware of the limitations of horses.” Dylan’s voice was husky with emotion. “My son meant more to me than a beast of the enemy.”
“Just because the enemy rode her, doesn’t make her evil. Animals don’t choose sides.”
Angel chose that moment to loosen the knot Johann had put in the mare's reins. He caught them in his teeth as they fell away from the tree, and led the huge warhorse away from camp.
Dylan leapt to his feet and headed after them. “I need that horse to get my son home.”
“Don’t worry,” Pink said, “Angel is just taking care of her. He didn’t turn her loose did he?”
Slowing his headlong rush, Dylan admitted the truth of her words. “No, he didn’t.” 
They followed the pair of horses and watched as Angel led the larger horse to a small pond. The warhorse drank deeply. Angel looked at Pink as if to ask why she had bothered to follow him.
Properly chastised, Pink turned around and went back to camp to set out breakfast for Dylan. She checked the boy. His breathing still erratic; a slight surge of power from her fingertips released the swelling and congestion within his chest. At the same time, she drew breath and felt fire shoot through her lungs. The next breath was easier but still painful. She sat quietly, trying to get her lungs to work properly. 
She heard Angel long before he arrived. He trumpeted from back by the pond and came charging to her side. Again the briefest shift in energy eased her pain and she was able to rise. 
Johann could not possibly have missed it this time. He looked on in wonder as immediately following Angel’s nuzzle she got to her feet, as though she had done nothing.
“I sure would like to meet your daddy,” Johann whispered to Angel. “More than a familiar aren’t you?” 
Without further enlightening him, Pink agreed, “Much, much more.”
The boy on the ground breathed easily. Angel head-butted her, scolding her for having healed without him.
“You can’t be everywhere can you? If you constantly watch me, who’s going to watch out for all the mistreated horses.” She affectionately rubbed a hand under his forelock and then scratched his withers.
Dylan appeared shortly, leading the warhorse. “I’ve never seen anything like him. He whinnied, tossed her reins to me, and bolted back this way. Did something happen?”
“I dared to Heal your son without his Majesty’s presence,” she said with a smile.
The boy moaned softly and sat up, eyes wide, screaming, “Daddy, daddy, da…”
Eyes rolling wildly he took in the campsite and calmed. His father knelt beside him and ruffled his hair affectionately. 
“It’s all right, Jon, we’re with friends.”
Pink smiled down at the boy. The terror left his eyes as he took in the friendly faces surrounding him. He scuttled closer to his father.
“How did we get here?” he asked, voice low, still uncertain about these strangers.
“Your daddy brought you here, he saved your life,” Pink answered.
“Where?” He looked at the distant mountains to the north and west as though they could tell him his location. For all Pink knew they might.
“He was taking you to a Healer. We just happened to be closer.”
He turned repentant eyes, glistening with tears, up to his father‘s face. “I’m sorry daddy. I should have listened to you.”
Dylan wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “It’s all right son, it’s over, and as long as you learn from your mistakes, no harm done. If I ever signal you to stay down again, you listen without question.”
The boy nodded solemnly at his father, “Just before I hit the ground, I saw you come runnin’ and the last thing I thought to myself was, ‘I've gotten us both killed,’ don't worry father, I'll never disobey again.” Then he gave an impish smile and added, “Least not while we’re patrolling. How did you manage to beat that soldier?”
“I used to be a fair soldier myself, son. We patrol in the guise of farmers, but we are never without our weapons. I haven't shown them to you since this was your first round and you're just beginning to become competent with a sword, but the staffs we carry are considerably more than staffs.” Dylan grabbed one from beside the packs and twisted the grip on the top. It fell in two pieces, revealing a finely crafted blade. The dark stains along its length showed that he had not even paused to clean it in the emergency of his son’s injuries. 
Ruefully he gathered it up, reached down into the lower half of the staff, pulled out a rag and some oil, and sat down to give it a thorough cleansing.
Johann disappeared during this conversation. When he reappeared, he carried the water skins, freshly filled from the pond. He handed one to Jon and the boy drank eagerly, only to be stopped after a couple of swallows by his father. After the water settled on his stomach, Jon attempted to get up.
“Whoa, youngster!” Johann exclaimed. “You need time to rest. You nearly died yesterday. Your injuries have been healed, but it will still be some time until those muscles are ready to do much of anything. You lie still while we strike camp.”
They saddled the warhorse and repacked their gear. Dylan placed Jon and the packs on the horse, and they began the eastward trek.

Chapter 11



Seven days later, Jon twisted in the saddle, his face lit with excitement. Pointing to a copse of trees north of the road, he said in a hushed voice, “That’s where we were when the Telgarn came. We just stopped for lunch, and daddy was getting it out of our packs when we started hearing hoofbeats coming down out of the hills. Not coming along the road normal like, but down from up north.” His small body quivered as he spoke. “Daddy told me to be quiet and stay down, then he went to see who was coming. I stayed still forever. When I didn’t hear anything else I got up to go see what was keepin’ daddy.” He turned big eyes on his audience. Reassured that he had everybody’s attention, he dove into the tale of how he received his injuries and how he remembered his daddy coming to his rescue. 
 “We should bury what’s left of the body,” Dylan said. ”A lot of the border guards use that copse to camp as they pass through. The sooner we remove the body, the sooner the critters will go elsewhere looking for food.” 
They left the road and headed for the trees. It was easy to see why the border guards used it as a campsite. A good clear stream ran through it, fresh water tumbling down from the mountains. Large boulders within the trees provided excellent cover in case of attack, and the leafy branches provided concealment. As they approached the trees, they slowed. Dylan gave three short whistles, which sounded very much like a bird. He stopped and listened. 
After several moments, when there was no response he began moving again. At the outskirts of the copse they could smell the decay that had already started eating at the body. Dylan bade Pink and Jon, “Stay here. There's no need for you to see this.” Johann and Dylan walked into the trees and froze. 
Pink, who had disobeyed the order to stay, stepped to the left to see what had caused their reaction. The stench was overpowering but nothing the two men had not dealt with before.
She vomited as she saw the reason for the sudden stop. Angel barreled past her and stopped in front of Johann and Dylan. His ears were pinned to his head, a hoof pawed the air while he snorted a challenge. Less than twenty feet away, a large wolf looked up with a growl, from the rotting body of the dead soldier. 
Even Johann and Dylan paled. They all backed out of the trees, putting distance between themselves, the wolf, and what was left of the body. As they hastily retreated, a tickle brushed Pink's mind. It felt very much like laughter. A familiar baritone mind voice said, “You didn’t save this one. I reckon he’s mine.”
“We were just coming to bury him,” she thought back at him.
“No need, I’ll take care of him.”
The wolf did not follow them.
When they returned to where Jon held the horse, Dylan pulled his bow from the pack and looked back toward the trees. Pink put a hand on his arm. “Let him be. He didn't threaten us, he only growled to protect his meal.” 
Dylan nodded agreement. “By the size of that fellow, there won’t be much left to bury when he’s through with the body. I’ve never seen a wolf that big.” 
“He's the same size as the one I saw the other night,” Pink said quietly, as they reached the road.  He was the same one, but she couldn’t tell them that without telling them how she knew, and even to herself talking to animals sounded a little abnormal.
“It’s odd that a wolf that big would be eating carrion,” Dylan observed. “He’s certainly large enough to bring down a deer all by himself. I wonder where his pack is.”
“I never had a pack, and this is all I’m permitted to eat,” burned into Pink’s mind.
“What do you mean?” she questioned. But as they moved further away, the wolf did not answer. Pink didn’t know if the lack of response was due to distance, or to the anger underlying his last comment.
#
Two more days brought them to Dylan’s home. His wife was outside feeding livestock when they arrived. She came out of the barn with a welcoming smile which faded as she took in the strangers in her yard. A quick inspection told her that husband and son were happy and healthy, then she turned her attention to Pink and Johann. “Who have we here?” Her tone was less than friendly.
“They’re friends, my love,” Dylan told her. “This is Johann, one of Tomas’s friends from Caryon’s campaign, and his granddaughter, Pink. They’re both mages. Young Pink has Healing skills, and we owe her our son’s life.”
Jon’s mother blanched and hauled him down off the huge warhorse, seeming to note the animal for the first time. “That’s Telgarn tack, where did you come by this horse?” She held Jon as though he weighed nothing at all and inspected him carefully. Noting the pale seam in his scalp where the hair was just starting to grow back and the slight discoloration rising above the open buttons at the top of his shirt. “I told you he was too young to start patrolling,” she accused.
“You were right,” Dylan agreed. “He won't go out again until he's properly trained and of a size to take care of himself. He just begs so hard every time it‘s my turn to patrol. It’s been so quiet—nobody’s seen any enemy troops across the border in months.” 
He gestured to Pink and said, “Pink has requested training in the use of weapons. I think it would be the perfect opportunity to start Jon in regular training as well. This way he'll have someone to spar with more on his skill level.” He looked at Pink’s slight frame, then with a lift to the corner of his lip, he added, “And more his size.”
Valla pursed her lips, looking from Dylan, to Pink and then at the pale skin on Jon’s head. “I appreciate what she has done for our son and I’ll gladly pay her a Healer’s fee, but we haven't the space to put them up.”
Johann started to speak, “If it’s too much...”
Dylan cut him off. A sharp glance at Johann, was followed by a firm look toward his wife. To Johann he said, “You saw the size of that wolf. Lady Pink would be more comfortable being able to protect herself. Wishing for a little time to learn the skills of self-defense is not asking too much.” Turning to his wife, he said, “I've already given my word to her. I will not be made to go back on my agreement. They may sleep in the stables, the gold you wish to pay for her services, may be spent instead on extra food. It won’t hurt us to have some company for a change.”
Pink looked at Dylan. “I don’t wish to be a burden on anybody. I release you from your promise.” Turning to the woman hovering over Jon, she said, “I apologize for any trouble I’ve caused. There are just things out there that I’d prefer to be able to defend against.”
 Dylan spoke in a strident tone. “Valla, it isn’t right to turn her away. And as I said, Jon needs to learn. Next time he runs into an enemy soldier spying through our lands he may not be so fortunate. There might not be a Healer close enough to save his life, whether Pink stays or goes, I ‘am’ going to teach Jon.”
Dylan hit the heart of Valla‘s objections. It was obvious to Pink that this argument had been fought before. 
Valla looked at her son and then back to where the strangers waited. “Yes,” she said slowly, “I wish that it wasn’t necessary for him to learn weapon skills, but he will be safer knowing them. Especially since he seems determined to follow in his father’s footsteps.” 
A tentative smile crossed her face. Extending her hand to Johann and Pink, she said, “Forgive me for being rude. Of course you may stay. For saving my son’s life you're more than welcome here. I’m afraid you will need to sleep in the stables. You’ll find them quite comfortable this time of year.” Following a glance at the barn, she continued, “You’ll eat with us of course, but our house is small. Your horse is also more than welcome to a stall.”
Angel shook his head snatching the loosely held rope from Pink‘s hand. Pink looked at Valla. “The stable will do fine for us. I don’t believe Angel will be comfortable in a stall though. As long as the weather’s good he can roam.” She removed the rope from his neck and turned him loose. 
Valla objected, “You can’t just let him go. Our property isn’t fenced, and he’ll get in my vegetable garden. How will you catch him again?”
Angel turned around and walked back to Pink without her having said or done anything. Pink asked him, “You will stay out of the garden won’t you?” He shook his head up and down, agreeing to the request, then turned around and headed for the tall grass in the middle of the field.
Valla’s mouth gaped, Dylan smiled. “He’s an unusual animal. Why do I suspect I owe my son‘s life almost as much to him as to you?”
Pink just grinned.
Dylan helped them carry the packs into the stable and left them alone to set out bedrolls. Pink dug out the brushes they bought back in Trell and went to the door of the stable to find Angel waiting. 
She curried him thoroughly, praising him while she worked, for his bravery with the wolf. She brushed him until his coat glinted in the evening sun, a reflection of sunlight that seemed to include more colors than the black of his coat. She gave him a handful of grain as a treat, then he returned to munching the thick grass. Johann tended the warhorse.
They scarce had time to finish stowing their gear and caring for the horses when Valla called them in for supper.
While they ate, Johann related the story of how they’d met Dylan, to Valla. Afterwards, Dylan left the house, went to the stables, and took out one of the smaller saddlehorses. He told his wife he’d be right back, then rode south down the valley. 
“Where’s he going?” Pink asked.
“He must go report. There’s a farmer just down the valley who raises birds—they carry messages among the guards. He'll alert the others that he ran into a Telgarn, and warn them the grove may not be safe. That way they'll all know to watch for enemy soldiers and unusual wildlife. What he said before is quite true.” Valla started collecting dishes from the table, and Pink stood to help her. 
When the dishes were soaking in the wash tub, she continued, “It’s been so quiet here for the past several months we got lulled into a false sense of security. I would never have let Jon go with his father if they had so much as sighted a Telgarn scout recently. Living in peace is just a dream.” 
Pink shook her head, “I’ve been living in a remote town in the Swa Caran range we rarely hear news of any sort. What trouble have these soldiers caused?”
Valla’s jaw dropped. Closing it with an audible snap she said, “I’m sorry, I guess I just can’t imagine anyone not knowing of the difficulties between Ronan and Telgar. They have gone on for generations. I guess if you lived up in the mountains you probably wouldn’t know of the war.”
Pink was certain Mistress Henna would have known of a war, but as a slave, such distant things never impacted Pink’s world. She didn’t correct Valla’s statement. 
Valla looked at Johann and asked, “Didn’t Dylan say you fought for King Caryon?“
Johann glowered at her, “Yes, he did. What I choose to shield my granddaughter from is not your business. I will not allow Lorth to use her the way his father used me. I gave them the opportunity to defeat Telgar once and for all, and they chose to withdraw instead.” He leaned back in the chair he occupied, his hazel eyes searching Pink and then Valla, his voice was harsh as he said, “So many lives, and they let victory dwindle away. I deserted that day. They could not coax me back into their Corps and they did not have the strength to force me. A seer predicted loss if they drove on, and they chose to listen to him, after they convinced me to do their bidding.”

Chapter 12



Valla turned to the tub and occupied herself washing dishes, uncomfortable with the knowledge Johann had just imparted. Pink didn’t fully understand what he meant, but Valla's shaking hands and the way she would not meet Johann's gaze indicated she did.
Pink helped clean the dishes and volunteered to help with meals in the future, steering the conversation back to safe ground.
Jon snored softly as they relaxed after everything was clean. 
A long while later they heard returning hoofbeats. When Dylan walked in the house, he brought with him, an extra sword and a couple of small knives. “Tomorrow,” he said, “you'll begin to learn how to use these. It was fortunate for both of us that we met. In the past ten days there have been three other soldiers spotted coming down out of the mountains.” 
He stopped as Valla laid a hand on his arm and turned to face Johann‘s frown. With determination he turned back to Pink and continued as though never interrupted. “You may well need the skills you wish to learn before long if you continue eastward. The enemy tends to frequent the east. North of here, the mountains make a difficult crossing for all except the most determined. For every scout that makes it, I’m sure King Thale sent five others. Tonight let’s get some rest.”
 Pink was awakened later in the night by the restless nervousness of the horses who were her neighbors. Her groggy mind registered Angel, stomping by the barn door. The other horses snorted and stomped, then quieted. She went back to sleep. This pattern repeated several times during their stay.
The following day, Dylan started teaching her the basics of sword work, the proper stances and how best to parry some of the most basic moves. Jon was beside her, only a little bit smaller and, despite his mother’s wishes, already having a good grip on the fundamentals. 
They worked most of the morning, Pink was sweating and her arms quivered from the unaccustomed exertion. She used the sword he had brought back with him the night before as he taught her the common drills. When she turned to spar with Jon, they took up blunt, wooden swords. 
Jon was more advanced, and despite his diminutive size he quickly managed to chase her outside the practice circle. At noon they washed up and Pink went to help Valla prepare lunch.
That evening a man limped up the path to Dylan’s home, supported on his left side by a stout woman and on his right by a cane. Dylan greeted him heartily. “Neeran, it's been a long time since I’ve seen you about. Is everything all right?”
Neeran grunted and sat on the chopping block he’d stopped beside. “We got your message about your last patrol. Mentioned you’d be having an honest-to-goodness Healer stayin’ with you. I brung all the gold I got. I was hoping maybe he could do somethin’ about this leg.”
Dylan nodded toward Pink as she groomed Angel by the stable. “She. An’ I reckon you’d have to ask her.”
Neeran looked at Pink. Then doubtfully back at Dylan. "She's mighty young."
Dylan called Pink over and Neeran asked, “How much would it cost me to have ye look at my leg, young miss.”
Johann came out and joined them. Pink was about to offer to do it for free, when Johann waved her to silence and told the man, “Two gold marks.”
Neeran turned to him and asked, “And who be ye to do the bargainin’ for the young miss?”
Dylan intervened, “This is Pink’s grandfather, Johann.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Neeran held his hand out in greeting. 
Johann shook it, then asked, “What happened to your leg?”
“Was huntin’ about two years ago up in the Rortag’s. They can be treacherous if you're not careful, an I reckon I wasn’t careful enough. I was trackin’ a deer when the ground started shakin’. Anybody in these parts will tell you, if the ground starts shaking in the Rortag’s you had best head away from the vibrations as fast as you can. I turned my horse an’ headed back down the mountains jest quick as you please, but the shakin’ was gettin’ closer. I got careless an’ my horse was frightened. He slid down a ravine, busted two of his legs and one of mine by the time we landed at the bottom. I slit his throat an' then lay there wishin’ somebody’d do the same to me. The shaker moved by at the top of the ravine. It stopped an’ I could hear it snufflin’ an gruntin’. An’ me layin there a'feared to make a sound. Wantin’ all the time to moan an’ holler. My leg jest flopped. Thet thing made the most horrid sound I ever heard, sort of a cross between a wolf howling, an' a horse whinnyin’. An' then it stomped off. Reckon the ravine was too steep for it. To this day I wake up in the middle o’ the night, hearin’ thet sound, sweatin’ an shakin‘.”
His wife nodded confirmation of this fact, and took up the narrative. “When he was late arriving home, I sent word to some of the other border guards. Game is plentiful in the Rortag’s if you dare to go there to hunt. But you never go without making sure somebody knows where you’re going to be.” She stopped and looked at her husband with a tenderness that belied their rough exteriors. “There’s strange creatures there besides the earth shaker. Anyway I had a good idea where to start looking. Old Man Troyus up the road has a good huntin’ hound. They went up there and found Neeran and carried him back down here. We've got an herbalist, lives in the area. She managed to bring his fever down, cured the infection and bound up his leg so it set, but she didn’t know much about broken bones. It set crooked and now he’s barely able to stand or walk. His hip pains him so much he cain’t ride either. Two gold marks would be cheap if you could put him back to rights.”
Pink checked the man’s aura while he and his wife told their story. The energy surrounding the leg was dark gray, almost black. Tomas had instructed her on how to heal old wounds. She would have to remove the thick calcification where the bone had healed, pull everything back in line and knit it back together.  The hip was another problem. The joint had been damaged. The leg had broken more than once. With an authority she had never felt before, Pink ordered, “Bring him in the house.”
Johann looked at her strangely, and he and Dylan carried Neeran in. They laid him in Jon’s bed and Pink started working on him. She began by directing a small amount of energy into his spine and deadening the nerves to his legs. Immediate relief showed on the man’s face. She did not doubt that for the first time in two years he was without pain. She worked on the hip first. Carefully she called upon the energy of the bones of the earth, calling the excess calcium deposits that had built up around the fractures, sending them from his body, into the earth. Then she directed Dylan and Neeran’s wife to pull and shift until everything lined up. The energy of the living-earth knitted the bone back together correctly.  When she was finished, she stood and hobbled to the door, leaning heavily on Johann‘s arm.
Angel was waiting. She rested briefly on the steps. When she returned, she found Johann already removing the deposits from the other fractures. He looked up at her and smiled. “I can do this much. For this you used my line of energy, but you'll have to knit him back together.”
She allowed him to finish. Then she mended the fractures and strengthened the blood vessels that had not circulated properly for so long. When she was through, Dylan and Johann carried her out to Angel. He nuzzled her hair and she felt the energy course through her, but this time he could not remove all the pain. She had done too much, even for Angel. Wearily she scratched his face. Pain wracked her hip. Angel offered sympathy and love and after a few minutes he nuzzled her again in the way only he could, and she stood in relief to throw her arms around his neck.
She reentered the room with only the slightest limp to show for the days efforts. The small group inside Jon’s bedroom were discussing her odd habit of checking with her horse. Johann was in the midst of explaining that Angel was her familiar, and that without him, a Healing such as she had performed would have to have been done over several days.
She released the block on the man’s nerve and cautiously he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. 
“You’ll have to be careful for a long while,” she warned him. “The muscles have all atrophied and I cannot rebuild muscle, but you should be able to do that on your own now.”
Joy suffused Neeran’s face as he stood and put part of his weight on the leg. “May all the God’s bless you Miss. Two gold marks don’t seem near enough.”
“It's plenty,” she assured him. She was about to say she’d have done it for nothing but Johann gave a disapproving shake of his head as she opened her mouth to speak.
Instead he said, “It's late and I’m sure Pink is tired. We'll be going to sleep now. I suspect Jon will be joining us in the stable.” He stood and herded Pink toward the door. “Neeran should not put too much stress on that leg too quickly. He should at least stay the night and travel home tomorrow when he can take his time.”
Jon didn’t look at all upset to be staying in the stable. So Valla nodded and he followed Pink and Johann out the door. As they walked across the yard to the stable, Pink asked, “Why did you charge them money? I would have done it for free. If nothing else, for the experience.”
“Because he would have then felt he owed us a great deal that he would never be able to repay. This way, we did not demand a great sum, and he does not owe us anything. Besides there's nothing wrong with using your talent to earn money. As we get closer to Relante we won't want to advertise your talent, but here you can do good without risk.”
“Risk of what?” she asked.
But Johann did not answer. His face wore the same thunderclouds that had been present when he spoke of his final days in the army. 
Jon began chattering about the morning’s weapon training and she forgot Johann’s moodiness.
The days passed swiftly. Her weapon’s skills improved to equal Jon’s. He too showed improvement but Pink’s longer reach and unnatural speed began to tell. The tides turned and more often than not, she would chase him out of the practice ring, or better yet, score a killing blow. 
Word had gotten around among the border guards and every few days another would appear with some ailment or injury. Her Healing skills increased considerably. 
Two weeks had passed when four men came down the road carrying a fifth person on a litter. The man lay still as death, covered in blankets. Pink sparred with Jon in the practice ring while Valla came out and spoke to the men. 
With her attention divided, Jon landed a killing blow and she was brought sharply back from where she’d already begun to examine the man’s aura, to deal with her own brief pain. 
Saluting Jon as the victor, Pink put up her wooden weapon and searched the man’s aura as she strode across the grass toward him. Halfway across the span from the ring to the litter she began to run. This man’s life energies were fading fast. 
Valla turned a worried gaze her way.
The four strangers stood back and Valla turned the blankets back to reveal a sword wound deep in the man’s side. “Do you think you can help him?” 
Pink looked at the wound, paling at the amount of blood oozing from the poorly bandaged gash. “I can Heal the wound, but if he’s lost too much blood he may still die.”
Johann arrived. After a single quick glance at the man lying on the ground, he said, “Get away from him, Pink.”

Chapter 13 





The border guards shuffled nervously. Pink tore her gaze away from the seeping wound and watched as Johann turned his anger on the strangers. “How dare you bring that to my granddaughter? She has consented to help you while we live here. She will have nothing to do with the likes of that...thing lying on the ground.”
Three of the men fastened their gaze on their boots. The fourth looked into Johann’s rage and spoke with a calm born of a righteousness of principle. “I don’t know your reasons, but if we can discover the purpose of these scouts it would be worth whatever you wish us to pay. I'm not without resources.” 
“We don’t want your gold.” Johann was vehement.
The stranger turned and acknowledged his partners. “We have followed this man for five days, hoping he would come close enough to Dylan’s farm that if any of us were injured trying to capture him, your granddaughter could Heal us. These men are just farmers. The fight could have gone badly for us despite our numbers, but if she will not Heal him, it has all been for naught.”
Pink looked at the wounded man again and for the first time pried her eyes from the wound, to notice the uniform and the emblem. The same markings that had been stamped on the warhorse’s saddle and bridle, were emblazoned across his chest. Covered in blood now, and ragged, but clearly it had been a many-pointed star, surrounding the head of a fierce looking cat. From the conversation flowing around her, and the emblem on the uniform, she deduced that this was in fact one of the Telgarn soldiers. 
As Johann argued with the men, Pink knelt beside the soldier watching as the charcoal gray color he possessed faded to black. If she waited for them to finish arguing the man would be dead. She did not look on him as friend or foe but simply as someone she might be able to save. 
Removing the linen bandage she placed both hands on the man’s side, searched out the blood vessels and Healed the larger ones, she sealed off the smaller ones to stop the blood loss and checked for damaged organs.  The wound was deep. She reached within the gash, and using her magic to guide her fingers sorted out the damaged tissues. Loops of intestine had been completely severed; she pulled these out and discarded them. Once the pieces that were already beyond saving, due to insufficient blood supply, were gone she grafted the two ends back together. She moaned in pain, catching Johann’s attention. 
Her bloody hand pressed to her own side. Johann laid a restraining hand on her shoulder, but as soon as she could breathe easy again she continued to probe the wound. The top of the pelvic bone had been shattered. She pulled out fragments, searching carefully with second-sight to make certain she had them all. 
The bone and the intestine were the worst of the damage. He was not beyond saving, but he would never walk right again, and losing that much intestine could not possibly be a good thing for anyone. If time and circumstance permitted, perhaps she could put him back to rights after he was no longer at death’s door. Pink looked at the bone splinters lying on the ground and knew at this point it was beyond her to replace them. She healed the fractures of the largest pieces. Last she attempted to Heal the abdominal muscles. She heard galloping hoofbeats slide to a stop behind her, and felt Angel’s soft muzzle on her shoulder. But pain and blackness overcame her before she finished the task of repairing the huge slash in the muscle.
Pink awoke to blindness. She panicked but the pain inflaming her side was debilitating. She couldn’t move or see. She blinked, focusing on slow cautious movement, ascertaining that her eyes were in fact open, she forced her head to turn just the slightest degree and stared straight into Angel’s worried black face. She must have been passed out most of the afternoon. Vision returned as her mind adjusted to the shift in time. Angel hovered over her, threatening anybody who dared to approach, with bared teeth and pinned ears. Even Johann stood outside Angel’s reach. 
Her return to consciousness had been a result of the last surge of energy Angel sent to her. He nickered softly as she stirred. She gazed into soft black eyes reflecting the pale yellow moonlight.
Her side hurt. Nowhere near as bad as it had before she lost consciousness but still enough that she gasped with a shortness of breath when she moved. 
Johann heard her. “Sever the link,” he instructed.  “You are still connected to the patient, that’s why Angel cannot help you.”
Projecting herself from her body she saw what Johann spoke of. She had been working on the soldier when she passed out. A strand of green energy connected her aura to his. His aura was still grey but it was lighter and possibly she was seeing some of the healthy green color remaining in his. Nevertheless she severed the connection. Angel snorted his approval. She needed to get herself better, if she was ever to achieve anything more than a stalemate with the man’s condition.
With the connection severed Pink sunk back into her body and Angel nuzzled her hair. The pain dissipated this time. She remained weak, but with her fingers wrapped in Angel’s mane, she pulled herself to her feet.
As she got up, Pink thanked Angel and released her grip. He retreated to the far end of the field. Johann came up and wrapped an arm around her waist. She gasped as his fingers contacted the place where so recently she had suffered incapacitating pain. Realizing that it no longer hurt, she leaned heavily on him. Allowing him and one of the strangers to help her into the house. 
Johann did not take his eyes from her and she knew he was assessing the strength of her aura. “I almost let these men kill that horse of yours.”
Pink closed her eyes. “If you had, I would probably have died.”
“You think I don‘t know that?” His voice was gruff with the frustration of impotence. “I monitored you all afternoon. Any time your energies dropped he strengthened you. Until you awoke, there was little anybody could do.”
Valla had an herbal tea waiting. Pink reached for it, then stopped, staring at the dried blood covering her unsteady hands. Without a word being said Valla placed a bowl of water and lye soap in front of her.
When her hands were clean, she took the tea and drank it, savoring the mildly bitter flavor of chamomile. 
“Food,” Johann ordered. “She needs to eat to get her strength back.”
The man that helped carry her in was the one that had stood up to Johann earlier; he had the bearing of a soldier. His gaze traveled now between Pink and Johann. “What about the...”
“He is not important.” Johann cut him off. “My granddaughter almost killed herself helping him. If he lives so be it. She will not do anything else tonight.”
The man turned to Dylan, knowing he would lose any argument he might present at this time. “Where can we put him?”
Before Dylan had a chance to respond, Johann said, “You may keep your pet anywhere I am not. I’ll thank you to keep him far from the stable.”
Dylan rose and led the man outside as Valla placed a bowl of stew in front of Pink.
Pink washed more thoroughly after eating, then leaned on Johann to walk to the barn. Johann hovered over her, like a mother duck. She managed to convince him to turn around long enough for her to peel out of her clothes and put clean ones on. In moments she was asleep without sparing another thought for her patient. 
Sunlight streaming through the barn windows woke her. She was still weak, but she urged her tight muscles to rise. The clothes she dropped to the ground the night before were folded neatly in the stack that needed washing. The barn door was closed and Johann sat in a chair beside it, nodding off. When she approached, he woke up, shifting from drowsing off, to alert and ready for trouble. “You just leave that soldier alone.”
“He’s just a man, Johann. Obeying orders the same as you did when you were in the army. He doesn’t deserve to die simply because of where he’s from.”
“They obey a man who's insane. If they can’t see that, they do not deserve to live.”
Pink stood beside him. Johann had been very good to her. She hated to argue with him but she was not about to let the soldier die. “If Dylan and the border guards can get useful information from him, wouldn't it be worth saving his life. They went for months without sending any scouts and now they're arriving with regularity. Doesn’t that make you the least bit curious?”

Chapter 14







He considered her words before replying. “I suppose it does make me curious. But not enough that I’m going to let you expose your power to the wizards of Relante.”
“How will I be doing that?” 
Johann looked at her, his expression weary and long suffering. “That man out there is a scout for Telgar. Whether he gives these border guards information or not, they'll turn him over to the Wizard Corps for questioning. If they discover the Healing that you've done, they'll search you out and recruit you.” 
His eyes grew shuttered, as he stared off into the distance. “I’m not certain any among them will have the power to recruit you forcibly once you're in complete control of your power. But as you learned yesterday, you have much to learn before that is true.” 
He nodded to himself, mulling over a problem he seemed to be wrestling with. “None can know of your abilities. Under normal circumstances, Ronan does not force people into their military, but two years ago, Prince Lorun was killed in battle. Even in my remote part of the mountains, I've heard Lorth is gathering any warm bodies willing to follow him into battle for vengeance. The Wizards' Corps is usually the least ethical about their methods of conscription.”
Pink stared at Johann as his words sank into her weary brain, noticing he did not say recruitment when he spoke of the wizards. “That would not be a good thing would it?”
“No my dear, that would not be a good thing.” 
Conflicted between doing what she felt was right and what Johann felt was wise, Pink told him, “I'll not use my magic to Heal him again, if that is your wish. But I have enough knowledge of normal healing to save him now. I cannot just sit back and watch a man die.”
Johann stood from his chair. “Let’s go see what we can do about him then.”
Pink was confused. “I thought you despised him for where he comes from?”
He gave her a tight-lipped smile. “There is that. But I've had the night to battle old demons. You're right. He is only a man following orders. No more and no less. Knowing the ruler of Telgar, it is even likely he had little choice but to do as he was ordered. I cannot let my prejudices cause his death. Especially when he may in fact have information these men need.”
Pink took care of necessary business and responded to the lure of the aroma of cooking bacon before she sought out her patient. If he had taken a serious turn for the worse she was confident the border guards would have been pounding on the stable door.
When she finished eating, she found the guard who seemed to be in charge and asked him, “How does he fare?”
The man surveyed Johann, standing on her heels. “He is, as he was yesterday. We would be most appreciative if you have the strength to look at him again.”
She nodded agreement and the three of them made their way to a lean-to where a rick of hay was stored for winter use. As she approached, the guard who maintained watch over him jumped to his feet and bowed as though she were royalty. Pink flushed in embarrassment. 
She checked the soldier’s aura and found it much the same as it had been when she severed her connection with him. Possibly the green had strengthened just a bit. His face was grey and haggard, lines of pain etched deeply. The eyes remained closed. 
The guards had removed his clothing and cleaned the wound, wrapping linen about it to keep it that way. She laid a hand on him. He was cool to the touch, clammy, sweat beaded on his forehead. Looking at Johann she asked, “Could you get my sewing kit for me?”
He returned from the stable to find her scraping the man’s side open to debride the wound. He realized from the lack of reaction from the soldier she must have at least put a block on his nervous system, but she was using one of the small throwing knives Dylan had given her to do the work of a normal physician. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief. It seemed she was going to do no more than she had promised.
She sewed up the wound with neat, precise stitches. When she finished, she sent a small burst of green energy to the soldier. Green eyes opened wide at receipt of this gift. She left the block intact. He wouldn’t be able to move, but nor would he feel the pain. His gaze followed her every movement, fear darkened them when the leader of the guards appeared in his line of sight.
“Don’t worry,” she told him, “if he wanted you dead, he need only have left you where you lay when he sliced you open.” 
The soldier’s mouth opened, and he croaked something none of them could understand. The guard approached with a flask of water. After squeezing a small amount in the wounded man’s mouth he withdrew again.  
The man licked his lips and tried again, she still did not understand him, but Johann said, “He is thanking you.”
Of course, how dense of her not to realize he would speak a different language. She smiled at him and reached out to touch his hand. 
His eyes followed her hand and then panic invaded his voice as he spoke again. Even across the language barrier she could read his emotion.
Johann responded to him and the tight lines around his face and lips relaxed again.
She looked at her mentor and he said, “He was frightened because he could not feel you touch him, and his hand did not move when he wished it to. I explained it was only a temporary result of his injury.” 
Dylan approached, carrying the water skin and she saw the man who seemed in charge of the border guards, heading for the stable.
Johann stopped Dylan, “Where is he going?”
Dylan followed Johann’s gaze and said, “He must report to his superior’s. It is seldom they manage to take a scout alive.”
Johann blanched, “His superiors?”
“Yes, Sergeant Garalan, is active duty in the Ronan army. He was sent here to assist the border guard in investigating the increased number of Telgarn scouts, we‘ve been sighting."
Johann didn’t wait to hear the end of Dylan’s statement, he turned and strode off to the barn. Pink smiled as she watched the sergeant arrive at the stable and find the doors closed to him. When Johann arrived, the doors swung open and the old wizard pushed the young sergeant through them. Raised voices carried snatches of the conversation to her, but even without the bits and pieces, she knew that Johann was demanding payment. She also knew that payment would be the man’s silence about her involvement in the Telgarn‘s recovery.
After a long while, Johann emerged from the stable, a grim look of satisfaction on his face. Moments later the sergeant followed on Dylan’s small wiry riding horse. He took off down the valley in the same direction Dylan had that first night.
Johann returned to her side and grumbled, “I’m an old fool. I should have seen him for what he was and settled the matter of payment immediately.”
“You could not have known. The border guard consists of more than a few ex-soldiers, like Dylan. How are you supposed to tell a soldier from a man who used to be a soldier?”
“He was far more professional than the rest. I should have known.”
Johann turned to Dylan, frowning. For the first time in her acquaintance with the old wizard she saw somebody look at him with fear. “He knew when he arrived here, we had a Healer.”
Pink recalled the sergeant’s words from yesterday. The border guard had spent days shadowing the Telgarn until he came within range of Dylan’s farm. 
Color faded from Dylan’s face as Johann’s complexion darkened. “I’m sorry. I had no way to know you did not wish her known to the Corps. My original message would have gone to Relante and to the garrison where that man was posted.”
Johann raised a hand and Dylan flinched. The hand descended to Dylan’s shoulder and he shook, but Johann’s words calmed their host’s fears. “It's my fault. I know the military. I should have guessed. It's time I stopped burying the past. We are traveling to Relante. This only reinforces that I need to be more alert.”
Pink searched Dylan’s face. She couldn’t believe he had been afraid of Johann. Was that what it meant to be a wizard, that people feared you? She never wanted to see that fear caused by herself. 
Turning away from the drama being played out between her grandfather and her friend, she tended her patient. She smiled at the ease with which the word, grandfather, came to her mind. The Telgarn lying on the ground seemed to take the smile as being meant for him and he returned it. 
She knelt beside him and smoothed his hair back from his forehead, using a piece of clean linen to wipe the sweat and grime from his face. In soft tones she mused, “Why are you here? You’ve certainly caused me a lot of trouble.”
In broken Ronese the man responded, I-sorry-cause-trouble.” He stopped and his eyes fastened on hers, with a clarity she hadn’t seen before. “I-here...Prince-lives...I here...find-you.” His eyes flickered to the wizard and Dylan, both of whom had become deadly quiet when the man spoke.
The ground trembled beneath Johann’s feet as he strode to where the injured man lay, Pink felt, as much as saw, him gathering the power of the earth he walked across. In the Telgarn tongue he spat a question at the man. A swift conversation followed.
The man lost what little color he had regained and his eyes often sought out Pink, as though for reassurance. Finally she intervened on his behalf, pushing Johann away with a hand firmly on his chest. “Let him be.” Her gaze turned toward the mountain range to the north and she said, “If he came over that range, he was underway long before we ever came here. He could not possibly mean he was searching specifically for me.”
Johann nodded agreement, “You're right. He claims he searches for a changeling he names the Daughter of the Wind.” A smile crossed Johann’s lips. “Thale truly has lost his mind if he is searching for changelings. They are a thing of children’s tales. Imagine, expending lives searching for fairies.” 
Pink frowned recalling the title Lorn had given her. Was there more to this man’s words, than Johann believed? She pushed that thought away, unwilling and unable to try to puzzle it out.
Dylan shifted uncomfortably, rooted to the spot Johann had left him in. Johann acknowledged him and said, “Of course you must catch Sergeant Garalan and have him pass on the rest of the message.”
Dylan bolted for the stable and emerged only moments later riding bareback on the large warhorse. He tore across the fields in the path Garalan had taken earlier.
Responding to Pink’s inquisitive glance, Johann said, “It seems Prince Lorun may not be dead.”
Following that day, Johann became anxious to move on. Far too many people knew they were here, and knew they had magic. Dylan never again looked at Johann with the relaxed ease he had exhibited the first couple of weeks they lingered here. 
Johann had lived for years using his magic for little besides housekeeping, denying all but its most muted existence. Its reemergence was something he fought to control.
Pink and Jon went back to their swordsmanship lessons. Herbal compresses, assisted by minute amounts of magic, sped the Telgarn’s healing. Johann bound the border guards to secrecy and spent a good deal of time, speaking with the recovering soldier. 
If they rode hard, it would take the King’s army at least four weeks to get the message about the prisoner, and send someone to collect him. 
Johann wanted to be on the road by that time, but he agreed to give her a couple more weeks to hone her skills.
When both his students had a firm grasp of the basics of swordsmanship, Dylan started teaching them how to use a dagger. He showed them which were killing strikes and which were disabling strikes. He showed them how to drop the throwing knife from its sheath, into their hands, and release it in one smooth motion towards the target. 
Many afternoons they spent searching out the perfect stave of yew wood and then paring and sanding it down into a hunting bow. 
When they were reasonably competent with the daggers and throwing knives, he helped them put the finishing touches on their bows and gave them a solid foundation in archery. Pink missed the target more often than she hit, but she knew what she was trying to do. 
The day came when Dylan told them it was once again his turn to patrol. He indicated Sergeant Garalan, who had stayed behind to guard the prisoner and said, “I’m sure he would be willing to offer instruction. You’re welcome to stay and practice, but I must take my turn.”
Pink could see the impatience in Johann’s eyes. It had been three weeks since the message had gone out. 
She had a good beginning in weapons training. Perfection would only be achieved through a great deal of practice. Practice could be achieved anywhere, so she suggested they should also be going. They wanted to get to Relante before bad weather set in, and it was beginning to get cool in the evenings.
Early the following morning, Dylan, Johann, and Pink packed their gear and prepared to leave together. Jon, tugged at his father’s cloak. “I wanna go daddy. I wanna go.” 
Pink wasn’t sure if he had already forgotten his near death experience, or if in the way of youth, his confidence in his budding weapons skills convinced him nothing like that could ever happen to him again. 
Either way, a firm look from his mother made him drop the cloak and go scurrying behind her. Angel came trotting up from the meadow. He had grown at least an inch in the past two months and close to one and a half hands since Pink had first met him. He was now nearly as big as the compact, agile, and versatile saddle horses the border guards favored for their hardiness and sure-footedness. He was over two years old now. Not only his body, but his intelligence seemed to be growing in leaps and bounds. 
When they arrived at the main road, Pink hugged Dylan and thanked him for helping her make her bow and giving her lessons.
He hugged her in return and said, “A very small price to pay for my son’s life, and all the good you‘ve done here. You'll always be welcome.”
They waved as they watched him walk somewhat northwest, leaving the main road behind.
Pink and Johann turned east, following the road toward Manaken, the largest northern city in Ronan.
They traveled as rapidly as possible.  Only four days after they left they drew to the side of the road and stopped to watch a squad of cavalry, clad in chain mail, wearing helms and tabards decorated with the rearing unicorn emblem of Ronan’s Royal Crest, pass by. 







Chapter 15


The soldiers paused as they passed. “We're looking for a man named Dylan Marner. Can you direct us to his farm?”
Johann smiled and pointed, “It's five days walk behind us. You'll pass perhaps a dozen south turning roads between here and there. His road turns off amidst a heavy stand of maple trees.”
Pink nearly corrected the number of days they’d traveled then realized Johann didn’t want these soldiers to realize they were leaving there covering as much ground as possible.
#
 As they traveled, Pink had the nagging sensation they were being followed. Nothing she could identify, but a constant touch, brushing at the edge of conscious thought. They arrived in Manaken a week later, and the sensation disappeared. They stayed for two days doing their show to earn their supper and gold to travel with. 
All her skills but Healing, were still unpredictable so Johann cloaked her in illusion when they entered the town. As soon as they did their first show, the sensation of being watched returned. This time she could put a face to the eyes though. A short swarthy man with auburn hair watched from the rear of the crowd. 
It didn’t feel the same as the sensation on the road. There it had been a simple feeling of watchfulness. This man’s regard made the hair on her neck bristle. They stayed to perform because they needed to purchase supplies, and few towns would be large enough to offer such a rich audience. 
The man stood in every performance and when she mentioned him to Johann he simply nodded. “He is a minor wizard and knows some of what we do is not sleight of hand.”
Pink cursed herself for not even thinking of that as a reason for his interest. Large groups of people had come to mean merchants to her. And merchants meant associates of Garec's. The next show they did, she searched him with second-sight and found he was minimally endowed with the same golden brown power Johann controlled.
When they ended the show, Johann announced, “This will be our final show, we thank you for your generosity, but we must be moving on.”
He passed an unadorned burgundy cap for donations to their performance. 
As they packed to leave, the stranger approached them. “What direction are you headed?”
Johann turned, pasted on his best showman’s smile, and answered, “We travel south if you wish to catch the show again.”
“No...I was hoping I could travel with you. I'm something of a magicker myself, and I couldn’t help but envy your skill. Your take in one day is more than I can make in a week of performances. Would you per chance be willing to instruct?”
Johann returned to packing. “I’m afraid my granddaughter and I have never worked with anybody else.”
“I don't wish to be a part of your show. I would greatly appreciate being taught how to perform some of the tricks you do.”
The pasted on smile slipped from Johann’s face. “That is out of the question.” He sank into the slight trance of second-sight and when his eyes refocused he said, “You haven’t the strength to perform the tricks you most wish to learn.”
The man backed away a step. “You read minds... Nobody can read minds...”
Johann harrumphed. “Of course I don’t read minds. Anybody with that strength gets swept into the wizard’s corps. They are few and far between, but it's not difficult to discern which tricks a budding young wizard would be most interested in learning.”
He turned his back on the disappointed magicker and finished the routine of packing as the man wandered off.

As soon as they left the town of Manaken, Pink felt the watcher return. She searched their back trail, watching for the appearance of the magicker, but never catching even a distant glimpse of anybody.
The third day, Pink was standing guard duty early in the morning when she felt a familiar presence in her mind. Angel’s ears swiveled to the north and Pink spotted the huge silver and tan wolf. She identified the presence she had felt for weeks now.
“Who are you?” she heard clearly in her mind. “Why am I drawn to you?”
“I am called Pink, my true name is Bellana,” she replied through the mind link, for some reason compelled to give this animal the truth. “Why you're drawn to me, I can’t answer. I would have thought you’d have been gone a long time ago, off searching for better hunting grounds.” 
A low uneasy growl carried through the connection. “Normally I would have been, since I have no pack to tie me to this area. I go where I can most easily find food. I wanted to see you again. I visited that man’s farm several times but when the horses got nervous I left.”
Pink squinted at him trying to get a better view. He appeared to be sitting still, returning her steady scrutiny. 
“Why were you waiting for us?”
“I don’t know. I’m just an animal. I’ve been lonely for so long, living under this curse...” 
Pink grasped her head as a short, sharp, pain, traveled through the connection. 
Hesitation colored his thoughts as the wolf continued. “My apologies. I did not intend to send that to you, it is my punishment for mentioning it.” 
He did not think the word curse again, but Pink was fully aware of what he meant and very glad he hadn't repeated it.
“I can hear the minds of men, and understand your thoughts, but no others have ever heard me in return.”
“Why do you not stay with a pack? Surely your own kind would keep you company?”
“No.” Hatred and anger emanated from him. He started to get up and walk away then he turned around and stalked back, sitting down a little closer than he had been. “They will have nothing to do with me. The wizard who cursed me was angry because I killed his brother—the…it…the”
Pink inhaled sharply, waiting for the pain when he said “cursed”, and was surprised she felt nothing. Either he was controlling his pain, keeping it from the link, or the spell was very specific and the slight change from curse to cursed made it permissible. The thought occurred to her, perhaps his words were not truthful enough to cause him to feel the sharp jab, his first utterance brought.
 “Curse,” Pink filled in the word he was not allowed to say.
“Thank you.  Gives me the scent of mankind. This frightens the other wolves. He also made it impossible for me to kill my food. If I try to kill another living animal, I feel such pain I lose consciousness. Thus, I live from carrion.”
“How long ago did this happen to you?” Pink asked with some trepidation. This could easily be a ruse to get her to let her guard down. 
“So much time has passed I can’t remember. It seems perhaps several life spans. I should have died long ago. Perhaps this is another part of the wizard’s curse. But I have been lonely for longer than you have been alive.” 
He sidled closer, inches at a time. If she had not been watching so carefully, she would not have noticed.
The deep voice in her head continued. “Longer even than your gray-bearded companion has been alive. The wizard who placed this spell, is long since dead. I had rather hoped that when he died, I would be free. But nothing changed.” She heard the mental sigh and could still feel some of the anger she felt in their second conversation. Now, at least she knew it was not directed at her. 
A glimmer of morbid humor crept into the thoughts. “I did have the pleasure of making a meal of him when he passed on. Seems his horse did not appreciate my charms.”
Pink waited for the explanation. He claimed not to be able to kill...
“He made a supply run between Trell and his home in the mountains. I darted from the concealment of brush and the gelding bolted and slid down a steep cliff. I feasted for a week on horse and rider.” She heard a tsking tickle her mind. “Such a powerful wizard, brought down by his horse’s fear. They both broke their necks by the time they arrived at the bottom of the ravine.”
Pink shivered at the memory of him eating the Telgarn scout. 
She felt hesitation, and shame. The emotions crowded her mind nearly as though they were her own. 
When his voice came into her mind again it conveyed humiliation. “I feel likewise. When I was first cursed I tried to let myself die by not eating. I became so weak I couldn’t move, but I lay there for weeks and would not pass on. Rains came and caused great floods. I was washed down the mountain to rest among several other victims of the flood. They perished. I did not.”
His anger and shame dissipated, replaced by melancholy.
“I decided that if I was going to be forced to live, I would prefer to be able to move, so I fed on the carrion of the flood. Several times since then I tried to die, but it seems the gods conspire against me. Living for me is torment, but the wizard wrought well his curse.” The wolf stood and paced back and forth, not coming any closer, but unable to be still.  “I can’t even remember killing his brother. Why must I yet be punished for it?”
As he told his tale he repeated the word, curse, or a version of it, multiple times, each time Pink noticed less hesitation. The melancholy disappeared, replaced with a hint of hopefulness. His emotions changed so quickly she was distracted. They were disturbingly clear. She wondered if he could read her as well. 
“Yes I can. I told you I can hear the minds of men,” he answered the thought which had not been directed at him. “Now that you already know of the curse, it seems I'm no longer punished for telling you of it. Perhaps the gods are smiling on me with more kindness now. At least they sent you my way, so I need not be so lonely.”
His thought patterns were unruly. He seemed torn between telling her of himself and responding to every tiny thought she had.
“I’m sorry…“  He ducked his head to his paws. “It has been so long. It’s good to hear another...another’s thoughts.”
“Try not to answer me, unless my question is directed at you.”  Pink tried to keep her annoyance from the thought aimed at him. 
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”
“Enough!”
“May I come closer?”
Pink looked to Angel for guidance. He nodded his head cautiously up and down, so she gave permission for the wolf to approach. The immense animal crept within fifty feet of where she was sitting. She didn’t know if he moved so slowly, so he wouldn’t frighten her, or if he was that unsure of himself.
“I do not want you to run away.“
“Stop it! I didn‘t ask.“
The head ducked down between the shoulders. “Sorry.”
Pink sighed, and the wolf crept closer. With a stomp of his hoof, Angel went on guard; that was close enough.
He was enormous. Close up he was much bigger than he had first appeared. Wiry muscles covered a gaunt frame. A handsome fellow, now that his muzzle was not buried in a week old human carcass.
“Thank you… Sorry, I can‘t help myself.”  His coat was tan and silver but very dull, as most animals will get when they have not been eating well. If he was to be believed he had not eaten well in a long, long time.
“I haven’t… damn, I’m sorry. It‘s very hard for me to tell if you're talking to me or not.” 
“That is not a very wolf-like word.”
“It’s not a very ladylike thought either. Wolves don‘t communicate with words.”
Pink blushed as she realized she had in fact thought that word, just before he said it. “Perhaps if I speak out loud, when I‘m talking to you?” she asked him. Curious as to what he would do at the sound of a human voice. He inched closer, keeping a wary eye on Angel but looking for all the world like an anxious pup.
“That would be good Lady Bellana. I despaired of ever hearing a friendly voice. Would you mind terribly if I travel with you?” He almost purred in her mind.
“I’m not sure how Johann would react to you. You’d make him nervous, since he can’t hear you speak. If you wish, you may trail along with us; I trust you’re adept at keeping yourself hidden.” 
She smiled as he conveyed the thought that she hadn’t known he was there until he chose to let her know. “I'll leave food out for you. That way you don’t need to go scavenging. Just know that Angel will guard us at all times.”
“Angel?” 
“Angel,” she said, slipping without thought into speaking through the mind link, “my horse.”
The wolf’s head turned to examine the black colt. “May I ask you a question?”
“Of course. Why do you...nevermind. If we’re going to travel together, you’ll have to figure out when I’m talking to you and when I’m not. If I sit in the woods speaking to myself, sooner or later Johann will catch me at it and think I’ve lost my mind.“ 
“You do realize, that’s not a horse with you?“
“Yes I do,” she agreed. “How exactly do you know it?”
“Maybe it’s his magic calling to my curse. It seems at times that I can hear him just as clearly as I do you. I heard him when our paths first crossed, but he is more powerful now. He warned me off very soundly then and even now mutters for me to stay back. What is he?”
“He is part unicorn,” she said, knowing Angel’s secret would be safe with this creature of magic. “What else could he be?” 
“There is much in this world you have no knowledge of. There are many different crossbreeds.”
“And is that what you are.”
The wolf did not even manage to send the thought, before pain exploded in Pink’s mind. It knocked him from his feet and he lay there quivering, foam flowed from between clenched jaws. When Pink was once again able to rise, she cautiously approached him.





Chapter 16




He moved just before she reached him. Standing slowly back on his paws, he shook himself out. His tone was bitter. “It would seem I'm not permitted to tell you what I am.” He closed the short distance between them and sniffed her hand, gray eyes watched her warily. “Thank you for caring.” 
Angel pawed the ground between them, threatening to strike the wolf. Pink laughed. “It seems he has first rights.”
The wolf growled, a low menacing sound directed at Angel, but the thoughts he sent Pink contradicted the threat. “He’ll have to get used to me, because I won’t leave, as long as you allow me to stay.”
“It’ll be dawn soon, time to make breakfast. When we depart, go through our campsite. I’ll leave some food for you. It won’t be much or Johann will notice, but I’ll leave what I can spare.”
She rose and walked back toward the camp as the first rays of sunshine pierced the forest canopy, dispelling the darkness. A glance over her shoulder showed her the wolf, watching her progress in silence. He lay with his head resting on his front paws; a look of contentment on his face.
#
Back at camp, Pink dug through the packs and came up with some biscuits they cooked the previous night, and some venison they had smoked at Dylan’s. She put a pan on the fire and warmed them up, added some Prailan eggs she had found and by the time Johann stirred, breakfast was ready. When they were done eating, she cleaned up. Some of the venison and eggs found their way into a pile with most of the leftover biscuits, just outside camp. 
They packed their belongings and continued on their way to Relante. A half-mile down the road a thought brushed her mind, gentle and gracious, “I thank you Lady Bellana. This is the best meal I’ve eaten, within memory.”

#

Two days later as they picked apples from a tree beside the road, the squad of King’s cavalry passed again. Bound to a horse in the middle of the squad was the Telgarn prisoner. A thick wrap protected his still healing injury, Pink noted traces of blood, seeping through the swathe. Days in the saddle were doing him ill, even at the slow pace the soldiers were setting.
The squad did not slow down to speak to them this time. The prisoner’s head turned slightly, acknowledging them with the barest of nods, unnoticed by any of his guards. The haunted, half-mad look in the man’s eyes disturbed Pink.
Johann laid a restraining hand on Pink’s arm. Her Healer’s instincts told her he needed assistance but she made no move to help the Telgarn.

# 

 As the journey continued, the wolf’s mind brushed Pink's often during the day. Where the trees were thick he remained close. If they paused to take advantage of the walnut or apple trees he lingered just out of sight. Large open fields he would go around but he was never far enough away to be out of her head. 
During the small hours of the morning, as she stood watch, he sat by her side. Between Angel and the wolf, there was little need for her to be on guard; nothing dared approach the camp. She used this time for weapons’ practice. She felt she was improving, but with no one to spar with, she could not be certain how she would fare against an opponent. 
Early one morning, as she worked at her drills, the wolf commented on her position. “Your feet need to be further apart. Bring your right foot forward to improve your balance.”
“What would you know about balancing on two feet? You have four,” Pink snapped at him, irrationally angry because she knew he was right.
A moment later his huge form lunged at her, coming in under her blade; his forepaws hit her square in the stomach. She tumbled backwards into a puddle with the weight of the wolf on top of her in a mass of paws, wet fur, legs, and arms. Pink disentangled herself and sputtered in fury, “What did you do that for?”
Water dislodged from the wolf’s coat as he shook, spraying Pink. “I told you to keep your feet further apart. If you’d listened to me, I wouldn’t have been able to dump you in a mud puddle.” 
“What if I had connected with you? Instinct made me try.”
“Hah.” The wolf scoffed at the idea that she might be quick enough to strike him. He sent her an image of herself chasing him around. He was always well out of reach. “Besides, what are you going to do? Kill me?” 
His tone reminded Pink that she was dealing with an immortal creature. 
After that he became her instructor. More than once she landed in a heap—though she’d learned to avoid practicing by puddles. It was not at all unusual for her to get to practice her Healing skills on herself, repairing a cut on her lower leg, or a forearm where he nipped her for not moving fast enough. Somehow he managed to never do more than break the skin, his teeth wielded with the expertise of the finest swordsman.
She had no idea how he knew these moves but under his direction, she felt the movements become more natural and graceful. When he was happy with her performance of the basics, he began instructing her in different types of maneuvers. 
#
One morning as she sat with the wolf on one side of her and Angel standing on the other, it occurred to her that ever since she met him, she had thought of him simply as, “The Wolf”. 
When she asked him if he had a name, he got very quiet and thoughtful, then said, “It seems as though at one time I did, but I can’t seem to recall it. Whether this is part of the curse or just a matter of not needing it for so long, I can’t tell you. Of course, that alone tells me it is probably normal forgetfulness. I remember every detail of my curse vividly.”
She drummed her fingers on the log she was sitting on and considered him. “Well I must have something to call you.”
“You choose a name then. You'll be the only one calling me by it, it should be something you like.”
 She searched her mind to come up with a logical name. Then asked him, “What about Conall? It means strong wolf.” 
His tail wagged. “If it pleases you Bellana, that is all that matters.”
“Very well then, Conall, you're starting to look much better. Your coat is healthy and you're starting to fill out. If you eat regularly for a while longer you'll be quite handsome.”
He leaned against her, nearly pushing her over in his enthusiasm, and thought, “I owe you many thanks.”
She laid a hand on his head, scratching behind his ears. “I’m afraid Johann has started to notice that we're using excess supplies. If I must, I'll tell him the truth. He won't be happy about it, but you've been with us long enough without causing harm, he'll come to accept you.”
#
The gold earned in Manaken dwindled to nothing. They started earning money in the towns they passed through by performing single shows and traveling on. Smaller villages such as these could ill afford to spend much gold or silver on entertainment. Often the payment was a night’s board at an inn or a few coppers and some vegetables.
It all worked as far as they were concerned. The villages were close enough, the travelers had no pressing need to buy large amounts of supplies.
Most people in their audiences believed they were the standard sleight of hand magicians.  Wizards and witches were not common, and surely a true wizard or witch wouldn’t stoop to putting on magic shows to earn money. Like in Manaken, magickers occasionally approached them, only to be brushed off by Johann.
Pink’s part was usually quite small where true magic was concerned. She was having a difficult time learning to do even the simplest of things with her magic. An attempt to light a candle still resulted in a puddle of wax. Her skills with illusion were getting strong enough, Johann allowed her to cast what they used in the show. But even illusion was subject to her slightest, wandering, wisp of thought. 
They stopped in the small village of Olger late one afternoon and performed at an inn. Johann did the standard routine of pulling brightly colored squares of cloth from a never-ending source up his sleeve. Pink took the stage and did some minor illusions making small harmless animals appear and disappear throughout the audience. 
As she performed, Conall contacted her and sent her an image of the waterfall he would be sleeping by. The small audience gasped in surprise as the image of water cascaded down a wall and across the tavern floor. A fine mist filled the air and fat drops of water splashed walls beneath a shimmering rainbow. The torrent of water disappeared as illusion should but water droplets splashing on the wall let her know the trick had gone awry. Pink was unsure what had earned her Johann’s glare, since illusion is invisible to those casting it. The audience loved it. Johann and Pink made more than anticipated, from such a small village. Many of the audience recognized their local waterfall. 
Johann and Pink packed their belongings and took to the road amidst brilliant fall colors. The prickle of being examined by second-sight made Pink‘s skin crawl. She looked at Johann, inviting the question but he had turned inwards. 
Not until they set up camp that evening did he ask, “How did you do that?”
Pink shrugged. What was she supposed to tell him? A wolf sent me the image? Yeah, that was believable. She would have said it was something she remembered from her past, except she had heard some of the inn’s customers telling Johann it was a great replica of the falls above holder Bovan’s stead. “I don’t know. Sometimes things come to me.”
“Even ignoring how you knew of the falls. How did you bring true water? Most of that trick was illusion, or we’d have all drowned, but the mist, was beyond feeling real. There were still wet places on the walls when we left. I checked them for magic and found nothing but water. That simply is not possible.”
How to answer? Johann above all others should realize how little she was in control of her magic. Why ask her? After considering what she could possibly tell him she sat back and shrugged again. “I can’t explain.”
The day she thought of Conall in the middle of the show and he appeared mid stage, the audience was not so appreciative. It sent them running, when the wolf looked at them, shook his head and growled. Pink shut the illusion down realizing from the reaction of the crowd, Johann’s expression and the confusion from Conall, she was creating the image of the wolf and feeding it back to him. That was the day Johann reclaimed the task of doing illusions. Her largest participation then became the sleight of hand tricks she’d perfected long ago.
When finesse wasn’t needed she did fine with her magic. But, except for Healing, the most basic spells turned awry, and they weren’t about to do anything more than basic for these shows. 
Angel often participated in the act. On the occasions when he refused to join, they would see him on the outskirts of the audience, watching a particular individual. At the end of the show, the person he was watching would usually be one of the last in the vicinity—hovering around the cap they would pass to collect donations. 
Angel refused to join the show in the town of Collton and midway through the performance, Pink saw him standing in the rear of the crowd. It was easy to tell which person he was watching. A tall, lean, well-dressed man with dark hair, and a sanguine complexion, hovered on the fringes of the crowd, inclined against a tree. A quick scan told her he had no magic at all. He was not a magicker hoping for advice. 
Unlike most of those Angel watched, when the show finished this man was the first to leave.
“Did you see Angel’s quarry?” Johann asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “Can’t say that I cared for the look of him. I think we should try to put some distance between us and this town by nightfall.”  She turned and started packing without waiting for his response.
She was pleased when he helped her without argument. “I was planning to do a second show,” he said. “In a town this size we would be able to collect a fair amount this afternoon but I think you may be right. I don’t know what his story is, but that gentleman did not mean us well.”
When everything was packed, Pink tied the bundles firmly to Angel’s back. 
They took the coppers they had earned to the market, purchased supplies, then continued on their way.
Four weeks since Manaken, and the villages and towns were getting larger and more frequent, as they approached Relante. Collton had been the first town Johann had planned to stay in for more than just a single show.
Farmers were out working the fields, but nobody shared the road with them. They watched the back road throughout the afternoon, no dust suggested anybody followed. Johann hoped to make the next village before dark. 
Pink was dragging her feet.
“Come on girl,” Johann goaded her for the tenth time. “I would almost think you don’t want to be safely inside four walls when nightfall arrives.”
Pink shook her head. “I don’t. I’ve been on the road so long, I feel more secure in the open air. People tend to make me somewhat claustrophobic these days.” She cast another glance over her shoulder, down the roadway, into the darkening gloom. “I can’t help but wonder about that fellow in the town we just left. Did he somehow know we were performing true magic, or is he Garec’s friend?” 
Pink searched for the comforting reassurance of Conall’s mind. “We took the long way around going north, east, and then south. Garec could easily have gotten word to his associates with a description of me by now. You don’t have the strength to constantly maintain an illusory disguise on me. And goodness knows I’d attract more attention than I want if I do my own illusions.” The wolf that had appeared on stage had cost them more than coppers. Her fragile self-confidence had broken. She wasn’t willing to rely on her own skills. “A merchant will have a lot of connections. I have started worrying about Garec ever since we started getting back into civilization.”
“A valid concern,” Johann mused. 
Pink felt he was holding something back and her mind flew back to the Telgarn prisoner and his words. “I here-find you.” What had he meant by that? Was he simply looking for a Healer or was he searching specifically for her? Johann had never clarified beyond the statement about fairies what the man had said. But even that single statement had caused her some uneasiness. Lorn had named her Daughter Of The Wind. 






Chapter 17





Johann had once theorized that part of the reason Garec was after her was because he sensed her power. Perhaps he more than sensed it. When she had met him, she had no knowledge of magic, beyond the simple skills of the magickers that passed through Hallowisp. Could Garec have some skill himself, and discovered the strength of her latent energy? Perhaps he had sold her to the King of Telgar, before he even owned her… That would certainly explain why the merchant had sent someone back to keep an eye on her.
She laughed. Her fears were running away with her. She was allowing herself way too much importance in the grand scheme of things. A king... what possible reason would a king have to buy a Swadish slave, on the word of a merchant? Utterly ridiculous. 
Johann searched her face at the outburst of unexplained laughter, but she did not enlighten him. For her to laugh at her wild thoughts was one thing, she didn‘t want anybody else looking at her as though she hadn‘t a brain in her head.
When Pink didn‘t explain, he said, “We’ll have to do something about that distinctive hair color. I trust you’ve already manipulated the brand?”
Pink smiled smugly. “That was one of the first exercises in Healing I did.” Carefully manipulating the skin within the circle of the brand she had removed the scar tissue where the iron had burned into her. The ink of Mistress Henna’s personal marking, she had caused to be absorbed into her body and replaced with smooth natural skin, long since tanned copper, to match the rest of her. 
“Well then, if we can find some walnuts we can dye your hair to a darker shade. Then nobody will suspect you of being the same person, unless Garec or somebody who knew you personally comes looking.”
When they spotted a small grove of walnut trees, Johann and Pink set up camp within the grove. She picked enough of the nuts up off the ground to make a good dye. Together they crushed the outside hulls and stored the nuts in their packs. Pink got out a large bowl, poured the hulls into it and covered them with water. She heated the bowl over the fire to soften the husks and speed the process. Once it was hot she mashed the rinds with a rock and set it to the side to steep overnight.
She barely finished when she received an urgent call from Conall. “You have company.”
Dowsing the fire, she sat perfectly still, listening. She sent a magical sweep to clear footprints, even though dusk was settling in, making it difficult to see tracks. 
Johann stared at her as though she’d lost her mind. 
When Angel also went on the defensive—Johann became still and quiet. It took nearly fifteen minutes but the people Conall warned her of, came down the hill and past the grove. 
They made little noise but as they passed she heard their horses hoofbeats pause; there was a whispered conversation. She could not discern their words but secondhand through Conall’s sharp hearing she discovered that they could still smell the smoke. They debated searching and then decided that they were close but their quarry had gone on.
When they could no longer be heard, Johann turned to Pink. “Do you mind explaining to me how you knew they were coming, so long before they arrived?” 
Pink looked at him, debating just what to tell him. She decided on the truth. They had already had two arguments about the missing supplies. It would be much easier to just tell the truth and let him believe her, or not, as he chose, than to try to cover any longer. Conall had already told her, he would not show himself to Johann so proof was out of the question. She could put it out there, and then she would no longer be hiding anything. 
“Do you know of anybody who talks to animals?” she began with a question. She wanted to know just how crazy she was going to sound. 
“The histories speak of a very few who had that skill, hundreds of years ago. It is generally considered a lost art.” He looked up from where he was rebuilding the campfire and stared at her. “You’re not trying to tell me you can speak to animals are you?” 
“Not all of them,” she whispered meekly.
He waited for her explanation, foot tapping.
“Remember what I told you about the hound that chased me through the mountains?”
Johann looked about in the gathering shadows. “He’s not here, is he? He hasn’t been following you all this time?”
Pink hurried to quell that thought. “No, it’s just the first time I had an animal do what I wished, when I wished it. I still don’t know why he stopped. He never spoke to me.” 
“There are many possible spells you may have inadvertently cast to make him stop. Back to tonight’s episode please.”
Angel stomped and looked at Pink. 
She in turn looked at Johann. “Then there’s Angel. He responds to what I want and helps me out, with or without a request.”
“And yet he does not speak to you. That does not explain tonight.”
“Do you remember the wolf that I saw the night we met Dylan?”
Johann nodded, a finger stroked the lengthening beard he wore. “You mean the wolf that materialized on that stage in Hordun? The one that was eating a Telgarn soldier when I first saw him?”
“The very one.”
“You’re saying he’s still tracking us?”
“And he speaks to me. He told me those men were coming.”
She launched into the tale of how they had picked up the wolf as a traveling companion, and his claim of being cursed by a wizard.
Johann shook his head, a frown creasing his face. “Why didn’t you just tell me from the beginning?”
“I thought you’d think I was crazy, claiming to talk to animals. Up by Trell I wasn’t at all certain I hadn’t nodded off and dreamed the whole episode. I’ve never heard of anybody who could speak to animals, except in the fairytales my father used to tell me. I thought I was going crazy when Conall first started talking to me.” She felt the blood rise in her cheeks, she should have told Johann weeks ago. “I talk to Angel and he seems to understand but that connection is nothing like this. Conall tells me that Angel is getting stronger in mindspeech and that he will also be able to talk to me soon.”
Johann rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you call this wolf, Conall, in so I can get a look at him? I may be able to help him if he truly is cursed.”
She relayed his message to Conall, but Conall was firm in his decision. He wouldn’t come near any human who couldn’t talk to him, particularly a wizard. 
“Humans in general,” Conall had told her, “because I have been shot at too many times in my too long life. In other wolves some of the strikes would have been fatal. For me they caused pain until I could worry the arrows out. The wound always healed. Wizards...it's nothing personal. My curse forbids me to get close to them.” 
Pink told this to Johann now.
 “If I’m going to be feeding him, I would think he would at least show himself to me,” Johann grumbled.
Pink smiled, she had been afraid he wouldn’t believe her. But the only thing upsetting him, was apparently, not being able to meet Conall. She looked back on the day that she had met Johann and once again thanked the gods that she chose him to approach when she was lonely, cold, and hungry.
“All this time we’ve been standing guard and I could have left it to that fur ball skulking in the woods. Well, tonight I'm sleeping,” he muttered. “He owes me. I’ve been working for the food he’s been eating too.” 
Johann turned and looked at Pink. His expression was ominous. His voice was firm when he told her, “No matter what the reason, from now on I want you to tell me if anything odd happens. I can’t train you if I don’t know your abilities. The energy in you is so intense, you will likely do many things nobody has been able to do in quite some time.”
Thunderclouds gathered on his brow. “If you think so little of my friendship that you believe I would ridicule you for telling me something strange or unusual, we have not grown as close as I thought. You are no longer a slave. You must learn to trust me.” 
Pink turned away from him, ashamed of her lack of faith. “If I had known you would have believed me so readily I would have told you long ago. I lived a good part of my life only telling people what they wanted to hear, and avoiding confrontation. Some habits are hard to get over. When he didn’t want to show himself to you, I didn’t know how to make you believe me.” 
 Johann’s voice gentled. “That little exercise earlier, putting out the fire and waiting for our company to go by, that convinced me you knew something I didn’t. I’ve seen too much in my time to not believe in a cursed wolf. If he was from the part of the mountains where he started following us, I may even have an idea who the wizard that cursed him was.” 
Johann’s expression became fixed in the past. Pink had learned to associate that look with something he’d rather not talk about, which nevertheless haunted him. With a visible effort he pulled himself back to the present. “This wizard was Telgarn, and quite powerful, before my time. Some say he destroyed the forces led by Caralon’s youngest son single handedly, back when the trouble with Telgar was first starting. The twisted magic he performed made the death and horror of the last war, pale in comparison. Ask Conall if the name Dorang sounds familiar.”
Pink relayed the question to Conall and the anger and hurt that reverberated through her mind told her clearer than words that Johann’s guess had been dead on. Once he calmed down she told him, “Don’t worry. He’s dead. Remember, you killed him.”
“No, ” he thought back at her, “I could not kill him. His unruly horse killed him. Keep that in mind, Lady—there are many ways to accomplish something without actually doing the deed yourself.” Calm permeated the wolf’s mind once again. “He thought by preventing me from killing, he would be safe and I would be punished, and for a long time he was correct. But the longer I lived, the more intelligence I regained.”
Pink paled and grabbed her head at the pain the word regained caused. That was a definite taboo on his curse and if the pain was not so obliterating her ability to think she would probably find it important. She rocked back and forth holding her head. 
Johann wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her until the episode passed. When she stopped rocking he asked, “Are you certain he’s harmless?”
“He suffers the same as I when that happens. There are things he is not permitted to tell anyone.”
A groggy male voice said, “Again I apologize, I think without thinking sometimes. I have been alone in my head for so long I don’t remember all the things that are not allowed.”
Pink reassured him she didn’t hold it against him and he continued. “I decided that the horse could be my agent to strike back at him. I was harmless and he knew that, but his horse did not. I did not have to kill the horse only frighten it. Even so, what you just felt was mild, compared to the pain that chase cost me. If your friend considered Dorang to be an enemy, then perhaps he will become my friend. But not tonight.”
She turned to Johann and told him, “You’ve just come up in his estimation by declaring Dorang an enemy. He says that perhaps he will come to consider you a friend.” She smiled as Johann searched the forest around them. “You would think a wolf as large as a pony would not be so adept at hiding, but even I can’t see him if he doesn’t want to be seen.”
Pink cast energy at the rebuilt campfire. With a whuff that consumed half the wood, it lit.
Johann just shook his head.
As she started gathering more wood to replace what she’d just burned up, she thought about what Johann had been saying and asked, “Who was Caralan?”
Johann looked at her in surprise, quickly followed by understanding. “It’s easy to forget there are a lot of things you wouldn’t have learned growing up as a slave. Caralan would be King Lorth’s… let’s see… great, great, great grandfather.”
“And this trouble with Telgar has been going on since then?” she asked incredulously.
“On and off. Usually each new ruler in Telgar tries at least once to defeat Ronan. They have been getting progressively more persistent, and determined with each new generation of rulers. Not many people travel to Telgar but those few who do, report a continuing downward spiral to their land. I'll teach you the history of our two lands starting tomorrow. Tonight I wish to sleep.”
She felt a distant intrusion in her mind, he seemed a long way away. “Get some rest,” Conall thought at her, “those men have traveled on. Tell graybeard he may also rest. I'll keep watch this night, but I expect twice the breakfast you have been leaving me. You no longer have to hide it, so please remember that something the size of a pony needs a lot of food to stay healthy.” She felt him humph as he repeated her words. “Not that I’m complaining. I am healthier now than I have been in many years, thanks to you. But if you were to feed me enough that I wouldn’t have to dig up carrion I would gladly take every watch. I can get by on very little sleep.”
Pink smiled and turned to Johann with a laugh, “He’s bargaining for more rations. Says he’ll watch through the night if I leave him more food.”
“Tell him he has a deal. I could use more sleep, and somehow I suspect he will see much more than I ever would.”
Agreement reached, Pink and Johann lay down to sleep. 






Chapter 18




Pink still woke early in the morning for weapons’ practice. It never ceased to amaze her how much Conall knew about how to handle weapons.
When she questioned him about it he laughed it off, saying, “When you’ve had as many weapons pointed at you as I have, you become expert in knowing how they are used, uncountable years have brought many enemies my way.”
After her workout she soaked her hair in the walnut dye and ended up with dark bronze tresses. It hadn’t totally concealed the copper tinge but it was much darker than it had been. 
As soon as breakfast was finished, and Conall’s portion set out for him, they packed everything and started once again towards Relante. That morning instead of the usual magic lessons Johann taught Pink the history of Ronan and Telgar. 
He reasoned that only a slave would be nearly seventeen years old and have such limited knowledge of their country and its history. If they were to convince people she was not now, nor had ever been, a slave, she needed to be able to converse on the level of even the highborn.
She didn’t believe many of the farmers would have a much less limited knowledge of the world, as most of them led fairly reclusive lives, but she had to admit that they were not bound for a farm. They were headed for Relante, the largest city in Ronan. She was always willing to learn anything she could absorb anyway.
As they walked Johann instructed her on the war torn history of Ronan and its neighbor to the north.
 “About two hundred years ago, there was a particularly long winter in Telgar. Some people were afraid that it would not end. The snow in May was still piled nearly three feet high and in mid winter it covered houses.”
Johann went on to tell of seasons of poor crops, starving multitudes, and poor planning by Telgar's rulers. Resulting in requests for aid from Ronan. Ronan had already sold its surplus food to other northern countries and had nothing left to offer.
Johann coughed from the dust kicked up by Angel’s feet and Pink handed him the water skin. After slaking his thirst, he continued. “Telgar withdrew its negotiators, and suddenly many of the caravans carrying food were attacked. Caralon sent out troops with the caravans, and things quickly escalated to full units having armed skirmishes.” 
Johann searched the forest around them. Pink suspected he was searching for Conall, who she felt hovering close by, as absorbed by the history lesson as Pink was. Even Angel was attentive. 
“Wizards were brought into the conflict.” Johann continued, “While his unit was riding guard on a caravan, Caralon’s youngest son Connor disappeared, along with the rest of his unit and the caravan they were guarding. Most believed Dorang to be to blame, but none had proof. Telgar denied having anything to do with it. Ronan stopped sending supplies by that route but the damage had been done. Caralon’s queen was heavy with child and word of Connor’s loss caused emotional stress that created problems with the pregnancy. She died despite the best efforts of the King’s Healers.” 
“Rumors abounded throughout the country. Some claimed she ran off and left Caralon. Others said she’d been stolen away by magic. Most believed what the palace put out, that she died in premature labor. The one thing that was certain was that both Connor and his mother were gone. In spite of Telgar’s protests of innocence, in his grief, Caralon declared war.”
Pink stopped him with a question. “Why was there ever any doubt as to what happened? Wouldn’t there have been a public funeral for a queen?”
“Normally there would have been. I know only what the history books tell me. In his anguish at the loss of both son and wife, the histories claim Caralon  privately cremated his wife’s body, giving rise to all the rumors.”
Pink nodded and Johann continued the history lesson. He spoke of the rise of one despotic ruler after another, all bent on conquest and all exhibiting some signs of insanity. One Telgarn ruler in the past two hundred years had been a worthy ruler, and he had been raised by his mother, away from his sire’s influence. Telgar repeatedly and senselessly attacked its neighbors, to no good end. 
 Rummaging through the packs as they walked, Pink pulled out some jerky and handed some to Johann then stooped down and placed some on a rock and sent the thought to Conall that it was there.
Johann continued. He turned away from the history between the two countries and began recounting the history of Ronan’s monarchy.
He had been talking for quite some time when Pink felt a touch from Conall, “Company’s coming, it’s the same two people that passed last night.”
She interrupted Johann and they got off the road. He made her obscure their tracks through magic, but he swept behind her to be certain the job was thorough. They hid in the trees beside the road and waited for the two men to pass by. The strangers kept their eyes to the ground, casting about for tracks, but they continued up the road to the north without even a pause where Pink, Johann, and Angel had left it. 
From where she lay concealed in the undergrowth Pink had a good view of the road. She recognized the man Angel had been watching at the show in Collton. Judging by the amount of material his partner wore in his shirt, tunic and cloak, he was a well to do merchant. This reinforced her belief that the cause of this problem was once again Garec.
They remained where they were until after Conall gave the all clear. They started back down the road, history lesson forgotten. “There are many other things you will need to know to fit in the higher circles in Relante,” Johann said, startling Pink. 
She hadn’t known he thought she would be fitting in the higher circles of Relante. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t want to be a peasant or a beggar, and if Garec has sent your description this far east, you will want to avoid the merchant sectors. That leaves being a servant where you may run into familiar faces that visited Hallowisp, joining the army, or trying to blend with the highborns.” 
She hadn’t given what she’d do when they arrived in Relante a moment’s thought, since her dreams from when she ran away. “I once thought of setting up a market stall selling herbs but you’re right. I think I want to avoid the marketplace. And Mistress Henna did entertain nobles from Relante. Working as a servant could be risky.” She turned the possibilities over in her mind.
“I plan to search for Trace, amongst the army,” Johann said. “But it would be better for you if you could convince the highborns you were one of them, fallen on hard times. Hopefully some of my friends will still be in positions where they can help you on your way.” 
Pink did not agree with him. “But that puts me in the same group of people I could possibly run into as a servant, only more noticeable. As a servant people are rarely noticed.” Nor did she see herself in any way cut out to be a noble.
They camped early and Johann endeavored to teach her the finer points of living in and around the Court. He had kept up with the outside world even in the secluded village where they first met. He schooled her on the current royal family. “The King is of course Lorth, even as a slave you would know that. He has four sons—the eldest, Dradin, is illegitimate and has not been seen since he married over four years ago. The eldest legitimate son is Lorun, the middle Torel and the youngest Colin.”
Sadness etched lines in Johann’s face. “If the soldier you healed is to be believed, Lorun may still be alive. That will be joyous news in Relante. In either case, whether he was captured or killed, it was a grave loss for Ronan. Lorun was showing promise of being a wise leader to follow in his father’s footsteps.”
 The grim look eased a bit. “Torel will come along but he looked more to the military. His older brother was the heir so Torel rarely felt the urge to pay attention to politics. With two older brothers Colin concentrated on little besides where the next party was. Certainly his classes and military strategy held little of interest to him. We can only hope rule does not fall to him.” 
With a shake of his head Johann smiled. “Now I’m feeling my years. When I last saw Colin he was barely old enough to toddle away from the Queen’s knee. He’ll be at least twenty four years old now. Seven years younger than Torel, and ten years younger than Lorun. Given time there may even be hope he will grow to be worthy of the crown. It is rare that one of Ronan‘s royal line does not mature wisely.” 
Johann spoke quietly, joy and sadness conflicted in his face. “We traveled with our son to see Lorth’s coronation. That was the last time Mari and I left Aldan, except for short trips to visit Tomas and another friend or two I have tucked away in the Swa Caran.“
A thin line created a parody of a smile on his face. “My son met his wife here in Relante on that visit. They fell in love and he convinced her that the village we lived in was charming and quaint and she just had to see it. She loved Jeron greatly but the entire time she lived with us it was obvious she missed living in the city.” Deep lines of grief etched Johann’s face. “Almost I wish she had convinced him to stay behind with her. There are many more healers in the city. Had they lived here she may not have died during childbirth, and my son would not have lost his will to live.” Johann stopped, engulfed in the memory of his son. Pink had heard him speak about his grandson before but this was the first she’d heard him mention his own child. 
Focusing intently on the path they walked, he said, “But you can never second-guess history. There is no way to change what’s past. If they stayed here, perhaps they would have fallen victim to violence. Living in my village I got to bring Trace up to know goodness and honesty.” Joy suffused his face as he thought of his grandson. “I hope he still has those characteristics. The world can be hard on a soul. At least we haven't been actively at war since he left to join the army. He will not yet have suffered through that horror.”
Pink didn’t know how to react to that statement. She had never been through it either and had no idea of the kind of things Johann must have done to survive.
He turned to look at her and said, “I have talked your ear off today. If I bore you, please feel free to tell me about it.” 
“Not at all,” she said, “I find this all fascinating.” 
They selected a campsite well off the road and Pink began cooking supper. “How long do we have until we arrive in Relante?” she asked.
“It should be no more than a couple of days travel. Those two men Conall had us hiding from, may have just been travelers, but neither Conall nor Angel seemed to like them. If those men are associates of Garec’s they may have alerted some of his other acquaintances. Truth be told, I’d rather not risk meeting anybody until we can blend into Relante.”
They’d been going around towns during the day and Pink had suspected his reasoning. “I certainly agree with you, as does Conall.” 
Sometimes lately it seemed that Conall was always in her mind. When something was important, like the two men coming up the road he asserted himself more firmly in her thoughts but whenever she thought about him, he was there. She could tell what he was thinking just by touching his thoughts—she didn’t have to go seeking his conscious mind. It was almost as though they had become one entity.
 Johann still tried in vain to teach her control of her magic. She spent evenings learning to wield the wild burst of energy that sprang forth when she called. Honing it to a point delicate enough to light a candle. So far she had failed miserably, though her efforts were improving. Occasionally she still tried on her own, like last night with the fire. Tonight’s lessons continued long into the dark. 
They made a cold meal of smoked ham and beans. She carried the bone away from the campsite to give to Conall. As always, he appeared in front of her as soon as she was out of Johann’s sight. 
She left plenty of meat on the bone and he smiled, a rather frightening grimace, in which he pulled his lips back from his teeth. If she had not been in mental contact with him the first several times he had done this, she would have been terrified. He must have been hungry. He started eating while she was still there. Usually he waited until she was out of sight. It embarrassed him to have her watch him eat. Possibly because of the first meal she had seen him consuming. 
“What will you do when we are in Relante?” she asked him reluctantly. Not wanting to hear that he planned to go back to his mountains.






Chapter 19





He stopped chewing on the ham and looked up at her. “I hadn’t even thought about it,” he said. “I suppose since the city humans would not much appreciate me, I will simply have to wait for you. You don’t plan on staying there forever do you?”
It was her turn to hesitate. “I’m not sure what our plans will be. This whole trip has simply been to get here so Johann could find his grandson and I could avoid Garec. Johann never speaks about what we will do once we get there, whether or not he finds his grandson.” she felt her cheeks burn as she relayed Johann’s plans for her and his reasoning behind it. “He intends for me to try to insinuate myself in the upper levels of society, I guess a rich spoiled brat fallen on hard times, but I have difficulty with that plan. 
She cast him a picture of herself in rags sitting around a salon filled with wealthy overdressed nobles. “I don’t think I’m a good enough actress to fit in with that crowd. Furthermore I would go absolutely crazy sitting around all day doing nothing productive.” The mental picture that accompanied that, was one of herself in an overstuffed chair sticking needles in her thumbs as she tried to cross stitch. “Somehow I never had the time to acquire the skills of the indolent.”
She set that thought aside and said, “Johann, also mentioned, I might join the military. I think I would find that more to my liking. At least I would stay busy. I would also learn more about weapons.”
Dry humor crept into Conall's thoughts. “I have no problem seeing you holding your own on either of those playing fields.” The image he sent her was of a copper haired vixen immaculately groomed and dressed. Although the clothes he dressed her in were many years out of date, they were striking. “You are beautiful enough, the men would forgive most of your slips in the upper circles. You’re talented enough with your weapons that you would be accepted without question into at least the lower ranks of the military.” The image accompanying this statement showed her in a black uniform with a rearing unicorn on the front, a sword strapped to her side, her bow, and a quiver of arrows slung over her back.
“If you tell the military you’re a witch, you would certainly be made an officer.” He paused as though uncertain whether or not to complete the thought. “You can ask Graybeard though. Being in the Wizards’ Corps is not the best of all possible plans. They may try to force you to use your magic in ways you would normally not consider. If I were you, I would keep my magic a secret, from all of them.”  Without warning he showed her a battle playing out. Balls of wizards’ fire struck devastation to both sides of a battle. When the fire touched them, the screaming went on for ages. The fire did not show mercy and kill quickly. 
A tall man with chestnut hair and hazel eyes, stood on the high ground flanking the battlefield, russet robes twisted in the wind. With a start, Pink recognized Johann. She watched as he went into a trance, drawing on the power of the earth. Shaking as though holding a great weight he raised his hands and thrust the invisible burden of magic away from himself, toward the soldiers of Telgar.
Beside him, a broad shouldered, dark haired wizard in orange robes, turned his gaze from one inferno blazing on the battlefield to the next. As his eyes locked onto the flames, he drew their energy within himself, quelling the fires burning amongst the soldiers of Ronan. Then he too turned to the north and focused on the center of the enemy, hands twisting, lips moving, speaking an unheard incantation.
The earth swallowed thousands of men, and walls of flame swept inexorably across the battlefield sending soldiers fleeing. Many of them died horribly. The image was so real she smelled the hot copper scent of blood and the charred odor of burned flesh. A gasp of horror escaped Pink's lips as her eyes turned toward the campsite and the man she knew as a gentle soul. She was glad the wolf’s sending did not include aural sensations. To hear the dying shrieks of all those soldiers would have been overwhelming.
Pink shuddered. The knowledge of what overshadowed the joy Johann once had in his magic, was far more appalling than she had expected. Not even her overactive imagination had come up with that scenario.
Conall crept over to where she sat and laid his head on her knee, slowly inching himself over her legs. “I should not have sent you that, but I have followed armies for two hundred years and I know this bothers Graybeard still. I wanted you to know his reasons behind keeping your skills secret.”
Pink laid a hand on his head, fingers scratching absently behind his ear.  “I could never take that many lives.” 
Conall’s tone was dark, “You never know what you're capable of until you are in a situation beyond your control. With friends dying around you, do you let them die or do you kill those who are slaying them? Do not hold what I have shown you against your friend.”
Aghast, Pink met his steady gaze. The gray eyes were shadowed. “I would never do that.” 
His tongue darted out; licking at her left forearm, tenderness invaded his thoughts. “No, it is not within you to hold his past against him.“
“Especially not when I know how terribly it bothers him, even today.“ 
Conall’s gaze turned to the forgotten hambone. She could sense his indecision, with a laugh she tried to push him off her lap and said, “Go eat.” 
He didn’t move, her push did little more than rock him in place. “Our discussion is not yet finished. In spite of what I just showed you, I believe any branch of the military other than the Wizard Corps, would be ideal for us. You must know more of the other options Graybeard is thinking of.”
Pink lifted the great head which had sunk back down in her lap and looked into his eyes. “Us?”
“Would you cast me back into the mountains, alone again?” 
She laid his head back in her lap and with long strokes ran her left hand as far along his body as her fingers could reach.  “No, I don’t suppose I could do that. I seem to be growing accustomed to having you around.” 
“And I, you.” His tongue flicked out again. This time he nearly wrapped it around her right wrist in a gentle caress, then turned his head away as though embarrassed. The upper circles tend to be, either thoughtless, air headed snobs, or clever, ruthless, conniving people. Don’t get me wrong, there are some good people there, but at least in the military your position is without question. You have a job and are expected to do it. As a private or a corporal, as long as your job gets done, not much more is expected of you. You would also have free time where you could visit me.” He turned his fierce smile hopefully back at her. 
That would be good,” she murmured.
His train of thought unbroken, he presented the rest of his line of reasoning. “If you cloister yourself away in a circle of nobles, your every move will be analyzed by the women and watched lasciviously by the men. You will have no time to visit me and I shall simply pine away to nothing.”
She thought he was joking with that last, but something in the tone of his thoughts stopped her from making light of it. Instead she asked, “How is it you know so much of the world within the city? Of people in general?”
With another smile, although his mindtouch told her he wasn’t laughing, he replied, “It’s amazing what you pick up when you outlive generations. I tail caravans and listen to them, and as I said earlier, I hovered on the outskirts of giant armies, feeding off the leavings. When you can make yourself nearly invisible, people say and do anything around you. I learned a lot that way. Being able to look into the minds of men, I can learn nearly anything I need.”
“Can you always read humans?”
He levered himself out of her lap and with a head butt he probably assumed was affectionate, went back to the bone. Before gnawing on it again, he turned back toward her, his face held an odd expression. “No, not always. Some are more open than others. I find that when people are not open to me, they tend to be plotting things. Perhaps this is an unconscious type of shielding that everybody can do.”
She looked at him curiously. “How do you know about shielding?”
Again he smiled, honestly this time. “I learned all about that from you and Graybeard. When he realized I was here, and that we could communicate, I suddenly could not read him. It made me curious so I dug through your thoughts until I discovered shielding.” 
Suddenly he was gone from her mind, withdrawn as though she’d slapped him. And perhaps she had. The idea of him digging through her mind, of being able to access all her thoughts and knowledge sort of stunned her. She found herself throwing shields up against him. Obviously she had been aware that he could read her thoughts when she was communicating with him, but she hadn’t known he could access her knowledge. Essentially, read her as though she were a book. 
He looked woebegone, his head buried in his paws, the hambone forgotten. She felt him contact her. He could still communicate directly with her, but it felt more like a conversation and less like sharing.
“I’m sorry,” he said, stricken. “Please forgive me. In my loneliness and ignorance, I didn’t think there was anything wrong with using you to learn things. You never locked me out and I know you realized I was with you nearly all the time. Forgive a dumb animal. From others I have always just been able to glean surface thoughts, I never connected with their minds as I can with yours.” Conall stopped and looked at her, pleading in his eyes. His hind legs shuffled his massive body forward, belly rubbing on the ground. When he was at her feet he rolled onto his side, presenting himself in a position of defeat, like a fifteen pound puppy rather than a nearly two hundred and fifty pound wolf.
She looked at him and could not stay angry. In fact she took down her shielding with the thought to herself that he had already been there during the entire trip. Locking him out now would be rather, as the stable boy at Mistress Henna’s used to say, "Slamming the door when the horses are already gone".
“You’re forgiven,” she thought at him. “You’re right, I did know you were with me. I guess I just never thought how deeply you could read me.”
She felt his relief and he crept closer, still on his belly. When he lay beside her he pushed his head at her hand and she tugged gently at his ears. He stood up, licked her hand and quickly returned to his hambone, once again embarrassed at his display of affection.
“Pink.” Johann’s deep voice carried on the night air. 
She rose to her feet but bent down beside where Conall sat near the hambone and squeezed his shoulders, hugging him tightly, then returned to the campsite.
“What took you so long?”
“I was getting some advice from Conall. He seems to think I would be better off if I were to present myself for enlistment in the army.”
“Why would he advise that? If you enlist in the army they'll use your gift in ways you may not agree with.”
She forced herself to meet his steady gaze. Her stomach and mind revolted at the memory Conall had placed there. Steadily she said, “I know exactly what you’re talking about. I don’t know if there’s a situation that could convince me to use my magic in such a way. But unless I felt right about it, I would not allow myself to be forced into such a situation. They may kick me out of the army. They may even discipline me, but they could never force me to do something I considered morally wrong.”
She turned away from him and said. “I've watched you these past months. You have plenty of magic and you seem to enjoy using it. But there are times you fear and hate it too. I know what causes your sadness. I would not let them steal that joy.”
For a long time he said nothing. He did not move. When he did speak it was in a hollow voice. “I’m going to kill that wolf for showing you that. I intended you to know the good magic could do, not the harm.”
Pink leapt to Conall’s defense. “He only showed me that, because he was reinforcing your desire that I not join as a witch. Conall suggested I try to enlist on the strength of my weapons training. Which he seems to think is passable.”
Johann turned and stared off in the woods where Pink had reentered the camp. “Seems way too smart for a wolf,” he muttered. “But did he tell you how a wizard can twist a weaker wizard to do his bidding? Did he tell you how sometimes you make friends with people, and in their defense you do horrible things to other people who might not deserve it, because they’re only following their orders, the same as you are?” Tears fell from Johann’s eyes. “When it is you or them, it will always be them. No matter how many thousands of deaths, your own safety requires.”
Johann stopped talking, lost in past horrors. When his eyes focused on Pink again he asked, “Did he tell you of all those things? Did he tell you that war often takes away your morality?”
“Not in so many words. But he hinted at that.”
Johann turned to search the woods again. “Far smarter than a wolf should be, even a long lived wolf.”
“He is,” Pink told him with a scowl. “Seems he’s been raiding our minds. At least he was until you shielded against him. Ours and untold numbers of others throughout the years. What it all comes down to is, he probably knows what he’s talking about. I can’t say I was exactly thrilled with the idea of passing myself off as a highborn. I’m afraid the slave would shine through at the most inopportune time.”
“Slave, never,” Johann said, thoughtfully stroking his chin. With a grin he continued “Farm girl maybe, but ‘Pink’ the slave is gone for good. We should bury that name. I’m quite sure if Garec bought you from Henna, he knows the name you were called by, and that name is not exactly common.”
“You’re right,” she replied. “Perhaps it’s time to use the name my father gave me. Conall already calls me Bellana perhaps I should go back to Bella. Nobody but my family would know that Pink and Bella are the same person. It has been so long since I’ve seen them, they wouldn’t recognize me if they stumbled into me.”
Johann smiled, then he added wood to the fire and said, “Very well then, that’s settled. I believe we’d best get some sleep, or we’ll still be laying about at noon time tomorrow.”
As Pink lay down to sleep she caught a fragment of contented thought from Conall. “That went well,” he was thinking to himself and she decided that he sounded just a bit smug. It was then, that she realized that she had nearly complete access to his thoughts and emotions also, it was not just a one-way path.
There was, she realized, one solid shield in place within his mind and by the feel of the magic involved it was not of his making. Part of the curse, she thought silently, and felt him uncertainly agreeing with her. “Good night,” They thought simultaneously.








Chapter 20




In four days they found themselves on the outskirts of Relante. What she could see of the city amazed her. She had never seen this many people before. If you added together all the people they had met since their journey began it would not have been enough to fill this place.
The outskirts of the city were filthy. Even where they stood on a hilltop overlooking it she could smell the mass of humanity below her. She could sort the scents into different categories. There was refuse, most of it rising from one spot slightly outside the city. The stench of unwashed bodies filled the air in the hovels down the hill, mixed with rising odors of cooking food, and perfumes from the merchants’ sector. The scents overwhelmed her and she decided it was Conall's nose that smelled them. Her nose had never been that discerning. 
She bid farewell to Conall as they left the forest behind, but she remained aware of him watching them.
The further in her eye traveled, the cleaner the city became. There were two walls surrounding parts of the city. At the heart of the inner wall was the palace. An immense creation of gray stone that rose above the rest of the city. A tower sprouted from each corner. She could barely make out the black garbed soldiers standing guard atop the towers. 
Manicured gardens surrounded the palace. Even from this distance she knew she would not find a single weed among the flowers and shrubs. 
Six large buildings and several smaller houses filled the remaining space of the inner circle. A wooden palisade separated the buildings from the palace. 
 One was a stable, paddocks filled with horses surrounded it. The second building appeared to be a barracks. The standard of Ronan flew over it, fluttering in the breeze. “Palace Guard,” she thought to herself.
She hadn’t expected it, but was not the least bit surprised when Conall confirmed her guess, amending it to King‘s Guard. A third building reached skyward. A tower adorned each corner in a smaller wooden replica of the palace. As she looked at it, she heard Conall’s thought whisper in her mind, “Military Headquarters. Regular Army is on the first floor. King‘s Guard second floor.” 
Pink stared at the sharply peaked roof which topped three stories. In all their travels, Pink had never seen a wooden building more than two stories tall. She stared at this one in awe, pondering how Conall could possibly know the interior setup of the buildings. “I just do,” he responded in the unsettling way he had of answering unasked questions. Not that his response truly answered her.
The other buildings were long and low. She couldn’t begin to guess their purpose and Conall did not offer the information. Whatever his source was, he didn’t seem to know these buildings.
Against the inside edge of the second wall were innumerable buildings similar to the barracks in the palace compound. Johann pointed to them and said, “Those are the barracks for the soldiers of the Regular Army.” Pointing to the buildings inside the second wall he proceeded to tell her what she, with Conall’s help, had already surmised. Between the Army barracks and the inner wall were many large well-maintained houses.
 Sprawling away from the second wall. Stretching towards the hill they now walked down, was the marketplace. She shuddered involuntarily when she realized she would have to pass through all the open-air stalls and the shops run by Relante’s merchants.
“Don’t worry,” Conall comforted her “Look at the streets. You will be one of many. Graybeard was correct when he said you could lose yourself here. Nobody will pick you out of the crowd unless you draw attention to yourself purposely. Like letting your pet unicorn trot along behind you without a lead.” 
She laughed at him, but was amazed to feel another presence in her thoughts. A rather indignant but resigned presence. When Angel walked up beside her and placed the leadrope in her hand she knew whom it was she was feeling. She was overjoyed that she could sense him at long last; at least his emotions. Angel gave a contented snuffle.
As they started down the hill she heard Conall telling her, “You have no idea how hard he’s been trying to make you sense him. I think now he will be content, even around all those people. I must tell you he is not looking forward to that. The bond has opened—he will be able to make you understand him nearly as well as you do me in the next couple months.”
“Just what I need,” she thought ruefully, “somebody else rummaging through my head,” but she reached up and scratched Angel on his neck. As she did so, it occurred to her she now had to reach up to scratch him. He had grown on this journey. She would soon be riding him. Not, she thought to herself, that I know the first thing about riding. From beside her she felt warmth and safety emanating as though Angel was trying to assure her that he would take care of her, when that time arrived. 
More of the hair in his mane and tail had turned white as he matured, it made him quite striking. Had he been an ordinary horse she would have been afraid somebody might try to steal him. Being what he was, she thought at him, “Let them try, huh.”
He responded with a playful push to her shoulder.
As they started passing people on the road, more than a few of them looked over at the old man, young woman, and the handsome stallion, making their way into town. No few of those glances were covetous, some as they glanced at Pink, some as they glanced at Angel. They quickly realized they were bringing more attention to themselves than they wanted. Johann muttered some words under his breath and twitched his hand as though casting a net and shortly, people stopped staring at them. 
Walking beside him she asked quietly, “What do we look like?”  The deception of this simple spell did not extend to those it was cast over, so she had no way of knowing what he‘d done. He told her, “You are forty years old with gray hair and some missing teeth, and he is a broken down old cart horse.”
“Why didn’t you do this from the start?”
“I'm physically stronger than I have been in years, but it drains me to maintain an illusion. Your youth could maintain it. At this point I don‘t trust your skill to hold it. I only hope that I can keep it together until we get to the first wall where pretty women and handsome horses will be more common and you two will not draw so much attention.”
She agreed with Johann’s assessment of her skills. It’d be just her luck, while they were trying not to be noticed she’d think of something like a dragon and cast that illusion. 
Pink watched him closely as they walked, searching for signs of strain as they moved through the hovels and cottages of the outer city. She laid a hand on his shoulder and concentrated on lending him strength. In this manner they made it to the outer wall.
Disappearing down a secluded alley, they reappeared with the illusion gone.
The guards at the gate barely gave them a second glance. In this place it was less conspicuous to wear their natural guise than the illusion would have been. 
The wall was nearly a horse length wide and made of stone. Pink marveled at the engineering and human effort required to build such a structure. 
Once they were beyond the wall, they stopped and moved off the road. Johann explained that he was trying to recall where he wanted to go. He was trying to place himself by remembering the view from the hillside and his memories of long ago. 
Moving back out on the traveled way, he wended his way through the maze of roads towards the second gate, turning back and going in the opposite direction only once. 
A sergeant jumped to his feet to stop them. The guard wanted to know where they were going, and their business within the inner circle. 
"We're traveling to Headquarters. I'm attempting to find my grandson"
The guard immediately became sympathetic. “It’s great that your grandson still has family who cares for him. So many of these young men and women, once they show up here, they never see their families again unless they’re from nearby.”
Calling another soldier out of the shack, which stood beside the gate, he instructed the private to take the visitors to the Regular Army Headquarters. 
Once they arrived at the Headquarters building, the private turned them over to the desk sergeant and returned to his duty post. The desk sergeant was brusque but polite and they found themselves once again repeating their request for information. 
“Has your grandson ever written home to let you know what company he was assigned to?” 
Johann shook his head. “I haven’t received any letters but we lived in a small village nearly over in Swadan. Letters don’t tend to get there very often.”
“Then he can write,” the sergeant inferred from Johann’s answer. “If he could write and read he would most likely have been enlisted as a corporal. That’ll be a lot less names to search. We have all enlisted personnel catalogued by rank at time of enlistment, if you knew the company he’d been assigned to I could show you the rosters immediately. Unfortunately without that information I’m afraid you'll be searching awhile.”
“Well,” Johann said, “then I guess we had best get started.”
The desk sergeant went into the back office and returned shortly with a book that was nearly two feet tall, two and a half feet long and six inches thick. He placed it on the counter off to one side where they would not be interfering with normal business, bid them good luck, and returned to his paperwork.
Johann sighed and started turning pages. On the advice of the sergeant, he flipped past all the pages with names of privates. Pink began to notice that many of the names had a single line drawn through them and a two or three letter designation following the line. Many of these were LOD, some were UA, and some DIB, along with a few less common designations. Johann explained them to her. 
“LOD means the soldier was killed in the Line Of Duty, UA is Unauthorized Absence, DIB Disappeared In Battle, he pointed to one of the less common designations and said this one here, DOD means Deceased Off Duty. 
They came to the part of the book that listed the names of corporals enlisted within the last two years. The blank pages between ranks indicated that this was an incomplete book and an ongoing roster therefore the names would have been entered by date, not alphabetically. 
Johann knew when his grandson had left Aldan, but didn’t know how long it would have taken him to get here. Once he got here, had he signed up right away or had he tried a different type of employment first? With a sigh, Johann found the page with the earliest possible arrival date and started scanning.  
After searching for three hours they had not found the name Trace Gunter anywhere in the roster and it was beginning to get dark outside. Johann decided it was time to find someplace to stay for the night. 
After making arrangements with the desk sergeant to return the following day, and getting some recommendations on clean but affordable inns they found their way back through the first gate.
 Just before the barracks in the middle circle there were several inns. Following the desk sergeant’s recommendation, they searched for an inn called the Golden Knight. Easily recognizable by a miniature golden suit of armor, hanging in a reclining position over the doorway. 
They entered a busy common room. After arranging stabling for Angel, they ate, found the room they had paid for, and prepared to turn in. 
The room was on the second floor and rather stuffy. Pink opened the window to allow air to circulate. When she did she heard the howling of a wolf and briefly felt Conall's mind touch hers. The distance between them made it a weak touch but she knew it was him. 
“I miss you already,” she felt brush gently through her mind. A sentiment she returned in kind.
After she touched him back the howling paused, then with two short yips she felt, “Farewell Lady Bellana, speak to me tomorrow. I’ll be waiting,” then his mind withdrew. Feeling contented she returned to her bed, and slept soundly through the night.
Early the next morning, there were many soldiers on the road between the barracks and headquarters. Most traveled through the outer gate and turned south towards a flat plain beyond the city. They wore brown unadorned uniforms. The pants were form fitting the tunics loose and sleeveless. Some wore mail, others did not. All carried weapons of one sort or another, but there was no urgency to their movement so Pink assumed there was no emergency. 
She asked Johann where the soldiers were going and he told her, “Every morning soldiers report for training. If you choose that life you‘ll be doing the same.” 
A lot of the soldiers traveled by themselves at a rather ambling pace—going somewhere, but not in a hurry.
One group in black uniforms moved in formation. Except for the light jingle of mail and steady rhythm of feet they barely made a sound when the entire group of more than thirty soldiers went by at double-time. Pink was amazed such a large group could be so quiet. They all carried bows and had their quivers slung over their backs. The other soldiers got out of the way of this company without being told to. 
One unfortunate, who did not move quickly enough was jostled through the ranks as they ebbed around him without breaking formation. He stood dazed, in the middle of the road when the formation passed. With a shake of his head, he collected his wits and continued on. 
When Johann and Pink arrived back at the inner gate they went through the same process as the day before. They were delighted to find Sergeant Gallo once again sitting behind the desk. With a smile he went to the back and brought out the book. He had even thoughtfully placed a marker where they left off the day before.
Two more hours of searching brought them no results, and they were nearing the end of the book. Johann was losing hope when the desk sergeant looked up and asked him, “Did your grandson have any talents besides basic weapon skills and being able to read and write when he arrived?”
Johann considered the question and said, “His weapon skills were very basic. Just what he learned play fighting with the other boys of the village. I’m afraid his father died when he was young and I’m not much of a hand with a weapon. His reading and writing were excellent, and he had some skills as an herbalist that he picked up from his grandmother. A natural as a woodsman, he could track anything.”
At this last, the sergeant looked enthusiastic. “ Let’s try something else,” he said and went into the back office. He returned with another book—considerably smaller than the first. “These young men and women are enlisted in special units. They are kept separately from the others for their protection. I’m afraid I can’t let you see this book but if you can give me your grandson’s name and approximately when he would have arrived I can at least tell you if he's in here. I’d need to get permission from much higher up to be able to tell you where he's located.”
Johann gave him the name and date, and Sergeant Gallo started looking through the book. Within fifteen minutes he looked up, victory shining in his face. “He’s here and to the best of our records, still alive.” It was only then, when he stabbed at it with his quill that the book tilted and Pink could see that nearly every other line on the page was crossed off with an LOD inked in beside it.
“All I can tell you is that he’s definitely enlisted, and he enlisted as a corporal but has been promoted to sergeant. I’ll look into getting you further information.” He looked at Johann and asked, “How is it you seem to know the military so well, yet you claim to have no weapon skills, Master Gunter?”
“Let’s just say that when I was in Caryon’s Army, the book you would find my name in was even smaller than that in which my grandson is listed,” Johann replied with a smile.
A look of respect crept across the sergeant’s face, he was perfectly aware of what that implied. 
“Too bad your grandson didn’t inherit any gifts. He would have been an officer.  What about your granddaughter?” he asked, a look of hope flickering across his face.
“She is interested in joining the army. Alas, she did not inherit any gifts either. Perhaps a touch of healing, supported by her knowledge as an herbalist. She is quite skilled with weapons. Taught by one of your border guards who put us up for awhile. Since then she’s been practicing with a skilled instructor,” he lied smoothly. 
The granddaughter part of their tale had become so ingrained over the past several months that sometimes he almost convinced himself that it was truth. Protecting her through another lie came very naturally. 
“If you’ll just write down where you’ll be staying, I’ll let you know when I have word on your grandson. If your granddaughter decides to enlist, let me know if I can be of any assistance.”
Johann wrote down his name and the name of the Inn they were staying at and left.
They went out through both gates into the market place. With Pink's most distinctive feature currently dyed to a deep walnut brown, they felt secure wandering the throngs. Pink garnered no more attention than every other attractive young woman in the market. They returned to the inn at suppertime and Pink checked on Angel.
The stable boy kept his water bucket clean and fresh and there was a pile of well-cured hay in the corner but Angel looked out of sorts. 
Feelings of relief flooded over her as soon as she opened the door to the stall. He came to nuzzle her pockets. She had bought carrots in the market and fed him one, now. She hugged his neck, offering comfort and he contentedly dropped his head over her shoulder.
Noticing the open door, the stable boy poked his head inside to make sure everything was as it was supposed to be. “You all right?” he asked.
 “I’m fine,” she responded, not bothering to turn and face him. “He’s just not used to being locked in a stall, he needs comfort.”
“Comfort!” the boy snorted. “’Bout took my arm off when I tried to groom him. I’m afraid that’s one job you’ll have to do yourself.”
Pink looked around the well-kept stable. The box stalls were roomy and clean, fresh straw spread in a thick carpet of the occupied stalls. The hay was well cured timothy, smelling of freshly cut fields. She didn’t see the boy she searched for. “I told the boy last night, nobody was to go near him. He’s fresh off the farm and very attached to me personally.”
“Sure would be nice if somebody had passed that along to me.” He drew back the sleeve of his shirt and showed her his arm, which was sporting a large bruise on the bicep.
“I’m terribly sorry,” Bella said, attempting unsuccessfully to sound contrite. “At least he didn’t break the skin.”
“What’s a tiny girl like you doing with a stallion that big anyway?”
“When we left the farm a good while back he was considered a runt, not big enough for plowing or anything else useful. He’s still small compared to his dam. He’s too young to ride but he does fine for gentle packing. I reckon soon it will be time to train him to be ridden.” She felt a mental smile come from Angel as she pictured her sore back end, when Angel would be teaching her how to ride.
“From now on,” she continued, “just throw him his hay and fill his water bucket. Since the grain bucket’s in the back of the stall I’ll give him grain when I get in at night, as long as nobody will have a problem with that.” 
The boy nodded, “It’s jest my brother an’ me, we take shifts cleaning and feeding the horses. The Golden Knight has the reputation of the best-run stables in town. Just wait until I get my hands on my brother. He knows better than to not warn me about problem horses. Of course he never believes there are problem horses, ‘only problem owners’ he likes to say.”
“Well tell him for me, that if anything happens to this horse, I’ll become a problem owner.”
She groomed Angel thoroughly, fed him his grain, and went into the common room. She found Johann and her supper waiting. 
The following weeks passed quietly. As quietly as it could in a city this size. Often she felt the need to get out of the seething masses of humanity. Whenever she sought the peace of the forest, Conall would appear as soon as she reached the dense undergrowth. 
Every time she came to see him she brought food. While she was out there, she would hunt to be certain he would have enough food while she was inside the walls of the city. Her accuracy with a bow had improved greatly since Dylan had first taught her to shoot and less than half a mile from the city, game was fairly plentiful. City dwellers did not hunt; they raised immense herds of livestock.







Chapter 21





Four weeks after their arrival in Relante, Johann had still heard nothing from Trace or Sergeant Gallo. He found several old friends and Pink rarely saw him during the day. He often invited her to join him, but after tagging along once and feeling out of place, she chose instead to spend her time with Conall and Angel. 
At night, Johann continued to instruct her in the use of magic and she finally had enough control, he trusted her to light a candle inside a building without fearing that the building would burn down around them. It still required an inordinate amount of effort on her part to maintain such a tight rein.
On her excursions outside the city, Johann trusted to Angel, Conall, and her burgeoning magical skills, to keep her safe. Angel guided her through the streets. If anybody came close the large black head snaked around, bared teeth opened distance rapidly. He never bit anybody, but he was a large and very real threat to any who might think her diminutive size made her an easy target for either theft or rape. 
Walking into the silence of the forest, Conall warned her she was being followed. She glanced over her shoulder. Empty hillside, met her eyes. It was not the first time somebody followed her up here. Usually she or Angel saw them before they got this far. It made her nervous that even with Conall’s warning she could not locate this pursuer. 
“He entered the woods to your left,“ Conall told her.
Pink spun to her left and surveyed the forest. Nothing moved. The birds still sang, the wind whispered through branches, nothing was out of the ordinary. 
“Come forward quickly,“ Conall ordered. She obeyed without hesitation. 
They traveled deeper into the forest and she found herself on one of the trails she hunted occasionally. Still she heard nothing, but she trusted Conall’s senses better than her own.
With a thought, she used Conall’s ears and was able to hear the lightest of steps behind her. She broke into a run and distanced herself from her pursuer. He came on, following at the same steady pace. Once she gained a bit of distance Conall ordered her to circle around and climb a tree. Angel traveled straight forward, creating enough noise to cover her movements. Almost without a thought she swept all trace of their passing from the ground. 
Waiting for him to pass her by, she felt her heart beating rapidly. Sweat beaded on her brow and she struggled to keep her breathing silent.
He passed underneath her and continued on far enough to find where the footprints disappeared. 
Spinning around, already drawing his weapon, his eyes searched the woods. From her perch in the tree, bowstring taut, an arrow aimed at him, she ordered, “Drop it.” 
His eyes focused on her, his arm did not stop. 
The knife flew with deadly accuracy…to bounce harmlessly off her shield. 
Pink dropped the shields for no longer than was necessary to loose an arrow. The stranger went down, her arrow piercing his leg, her aim disturbed not at all by the knife. She was learning to have confidence in her magic. She intended nothing more than to disable him; he on the other hand intended to kill.
Angel joined her as she scrambled from her perch. Together they went over to where he lay on the ground, grasping his leg and gritting his teeth. The arrow missed the bone but completely penetrated the muscle of his thigh.
She approached him with caution. Heart still pounding. Shields firmly in place; anticipating the possibility of another attack. 
Lifting hands covered in his own blood, he offered no further trouble.
Conall read his thoughts and told her, “He does not intend to harm you, the knife was a defensive move. He wishes to talk.”
“I’ll help you,” she offered the prone man. “But then I want some explanations.”
Conall assured her his mind lacked bad intent. She knelt by his leg and broke the fletching from the arrow. He looked faint as the arrow jerked when it broke. After making certain no splinters remained that could break off inside and cause infection she pulled the arrow through the wound. A controlled gasp of pain was the only sound he made. 
After she removed the arrow, he slowly reached inside his cloak to a pocket hidden in the back. Suspiciously, she brought her dagger up as soon as his hand moved.
Conall’s assurance relaxed her. From within the folds of the cloak the man withdrew a roll of bandages and a small jar of salve. He smeared the salve on the wound and bound it with the wrap. 
When this was done she helped him to his feet and he hopped over to the tree she had been in. He sat down with his back to the tree. 
He was a young man, no more than twenty years old, but the way he had tracked her, and dealt with the pain of the consequences spoke of a maturity far beyond his years. His shoulder length blonde hair was clean and well kept. His clothing, while not remarkable was not poor. His sharp features came together in a pleasing way that seemed almost familiar. 
He would not stand out in a crowd. Somehow she got the impression that being nondescript was what he wanted.
“Why were you following me?” she asked
Sullenly he said, “You’re a good looking woman and I wanted to get to know you better.”
“Be wary Bellana. He’s upset that you got the better of him. His words are deceitful,” came the mind touch from Conall.
That was followed by a glint of humor and the thought, “I know why he’s here. Your question brought it close enough to the surface of his mind that I picked it up. You’re not going to believe it.”
“What?” she thought back at him. 
“If I tell you, he will think you’re able to read minds. The fewer who know of my abilities the better. He will tell you.”   Laughter flooded her mind.
“You lie,” she said to the young man at her feet.
“Why? Do you think yourself so ugly a man couldn’t take an interest in you?”
“I’ve had too many take an interest in me in the past year. That is why you are sitting on the ground with an arrow wound in your leg, but I can tell when somebody is lying to me, and you are.”
The young man frowned, looking back to where the arrow lay on the ground. “Very well then, the way your footprints disappeared you may have some tricks I can’t counter. I might as well tell you. I thought perhaps before I managed to stroll into some sort of trap, I ought to at least meet my ‘sister’. HQ notified my company commander that my grandfather was in Relante searching for me. My Commanding Officer gave me permission to come here to see him. Imagine my surprise when I walked into HQ after traveling hard for nearly two weeks, and being harassed by the guys about never telling them about my beautiful sister.”
Pink blushed, “You’re Trace then. Oh Gods, and I shot you.”
He looked at her and shook his head. “It’s my fault for not confronting you openly. I’ve followed you through town several times. You never did anything the least bit suspicious, except for your trips out here. I pretty much decided you were harmless, but I wanted to know what you did here in the woods, so I followed you.”
He was pale, the wound was bothering him more than he was willing to let on. And he nodded at his leg. “Perhaps you're not so harmless after all.” 
She knelt down beside him and said, “Let me Heal this. I caused it, I can fix it.” He didn’t argue with her as she unwound the bandage. If he had been a stranger she would not have revealed her power to him, but surely Johann’s grandson had grown up exposed to magic. Conall reassured her that she was doing the right thing and she reached out with her hands and touched the wound, exerting her powers to knit the muscle and skin back together from the inside out.
She finished and Angel automatically fed her more energy. The pain she had taken on disappeared. 
“I should have known,” Trace muttered. “Why else would Grandfather claim you as family?”
“I owe him a lot,” she told him. “He took me in when my situation was not good. He gave me shelter and food, and when my past caught up with me, he abandoned his quiet life and brought me here in the hope that I would be anonymous among the masses.”
“I can’t believe anybody got him to leave that village. After Grandmother died, he withdrew into himself. I left because I didn’t want to stay around and watch him die too. From what I’ve seen of him in town, he looks better than he has in years.”
He looked at her with a touch of respect, and asked, “Where did you learn Healing? That‘s not one of his talents.”
“He took me north first and we stayed with Tomas for a couple of months. Johann has been attempting to teach me other things as we traveled.”
With a snort Trace asked, “You mean like shields? Don’t think I didn’t notice how my knife bounced off you.” He looked over where the knife lay embedded harmlessly in the ground. “I know he didn’t teach you how to handle weapons. He never thought anybody needed any weapons beyond magic.” 
“We stayed with a border guard for a month or two, he taught me the basics of weapons handling,”
“Basics!” He almost laughed. “I’m guessing that shot went just where you wanted it.”
“I have practiced a lot since we left there. I’ve got an excellent instructor.”
At his look of inquiry, she heard Conall’s thought, “Take his weapons and introduce me, he is family after all.”
“I'll introduce you to him, since he has requested it. First you must give me your weapons.” After he willingly handed her a second throwing knife and a dagger she said, “Don’t be frightened. You should be honored. Even your grandfather has not met him. Conall said he would like to meet Johann but the curse he’s under forbids him to seek out wizards.”
“Your weapons instructor is cursed?”
“Yes, and he’s not… precisely human. He thinks a lot like a human but he’s not.”
Conall materialized out of the bushes behind her. 







Chapter 22




Without even turning around, the expression on Trace’s face told her more clearly than words that the wolf was standing behind her.
“That’s your weapons instructor?” Trace squeaked, barely able to find his voice at all.
“He’s also the reason I was able to get the drop on you. He told me you're family, you will not be harmed,” she saw no reason to let anybody know that Conall could not kill.
“There is a big difference between being able to kill, and being able to cause harm,” she heard in her head.
“In that case,” Trace said with a faint smile, “Welcome to the family, Sis.”
“Perhaps we should go back in,” she said. 
“My food,” Conall thought at her.
She jumped guiltily. “I’m so sorry, I forgot for the moment.” 
She emptied the pack of the venison and beef scraps from the inn they were staying at. Things that came back on people’s plates and the large bones cooked out of the roasts. 
The innkeeper gave her a strange look when she asked for these things. At his inquiring glance, she told him she was feeding a stray dog, and he gave her what she asked for without a second thought. He kept a pail in the back where the serving girls scraped everything. She picked it up just before she came out to the forest, dumped it into an oiled canvas bag and shoved it in her pack. 
Withdrawing the bag from her pack, she emptied its contents onto a large flat rock. “Take him back to Graybeard,” Conall told her. 
“Can you speak to him?” she asked.
“No, I only get the most basic surface thoughts, he seems nice enough, and from what I can tell, intelligent.”
Turning to Trace, she said, “Let’s go then. Your grandfather has been anxious to see you.” She started walking and Angel fell into step beside her. Trace got up slowly from the ground, tested his leg and when he felt no pain, fell into step on her left side. An occasional hitch in his stride and his torn and bloody pants leg, the only evidence the wound had ever existed.
He appeared to be deep in thought. When he looked up, he asked a question which had never occurred to her.
“Was he originally a wolf or a man?”
The question startled her. She thought back on all the times Conall had glibly attributed his very humanlike characteristics and knowledge to being able to read human minds. He had never specifically told her the curse that had been placed on him had not also created the outward aspect of the wolf. It had simply never occurred to her to ask. After the agony she received when they were discussing crossbreeds, she had decided at most he was one of the mysterious creatures he’d said there were many of.
Since first seeing him searching for food, then seeing him with his muzzle buried in the decaying remains of the Telgarn scout, she had never thought he could possibly be anything other than a wolf. Trace’s question was a good one. Conall certainly had more human characteristics than wolf. She had assumed he had adapted to the company he was keeping. 
In the depths of her mind she felt a hopeful stirring, and she knew it was Conall. In some way, Trace’s question was related to the curse. She remembered a statement he had made once that the wizard had not counted on him being able to regain his intelligence. There was that word, regain, in order to regain something; he had to have had it in the first place. 
The puzzle went round in her head and she could not come up with an answer. “I’m not at all sure.” she answered Trace. A glance over her shoulder showed her Conall, rooted in place, staring after them, food forgotten. “I hadn’t really thought about it until you asked.”
As they walked back to the city, Pink related more of her tale to Trace, she was relaxed with him, she had met very few people that she had taken such an instant liking to (If you discount that small incident with the arrow). She found she enjoyed talking to him. 
The soldier on duty at the first gate gave Trace a peculiar glance, his sharp eyes taking in the whole picture, without stopping them. Initially she thought it was simply that these people knew him. As more peculiar stares were aimed their way, many by people she knew, she realized something was wrong. This was more than the attention she and Angel normally drew. 
Searching the three of them as they walked, she realized several things were not quite right with the picture they presented. She had been so involved, talking to Trace that she had not remembered to put the rope back on Angel’s neck. Trace’s pants were torn and bloodied but the flesh of his thigh displayed no wound, and he showed no pain. And most important to her, she realized that the hair blowing around her face was the color of burnished copper instead of the walnut bronze she’d carefully kept it since arriving in town. 
By themselves, none of these was worthy of note. The three together made them stand out. Only those who knew Pink would notice her hair color, but she had gotten to know quite a few of them on a casual basis since arriving here. Trace’s leg was not that great a deal, wounds could bleed severely and not be serious, there was enough of the tattered pants still covering that it was not certain there was no wound. Angel could just be a very well trained horse. 
Nothing major by themselves, put together they drew attention, especially from those people that knew both of them. The change in hair caught their attention and the rest was noticed under scrutiny.
One Corporal who seemed to know Trace, approached them and pointed at his leg, “You all right, Sergeant?” he asked.
Trace covered well, with a sheepish grin he said, “I’m fine. And I learned my lesson. Never, never, surprise my sister when she’s armed. Fortunately she recognized me in time to shift the aim a bit. It’s just a flesh wound. Old game we used to play when we were growing up, stalking each other. We just never used to carry weapons.”
The corporal walked with them to the inn. By the time he left they were quite sure the story would be spread and their relationship as sister and brother cemented. Hopefully that would be enough gossip to erase the thoughts of the other oddities. Walking Angel into the stable she groomed him while Trace went to find his grandfather.
#
Trace and Johann were closeted in the room, catching up on all that had happened in the past two years by the time she finished. When she walked in the door, Trace rather loudly proclaimed, “And here’s my baby sister didn’t she just grow up beautiful and deadly.”
When the door closed he turned to Johann with a grimace, and said jokingly, “The next time you decide to visit and bring a beautiful girl along you could tell people she’s my fiancé or some such thing. You just didn’t want me to have a chance with your protégé, did you?”
Johann favored him with an indulgent smile and turned to Pink and asked, “What happened to your hair?”
It was Trace that responded. “It did that when she healed my leg, I’ve seen Healers work before, but I’ve never seen them manifest physical changes because of it.”
“Think,” Johann scowled. “Did it happen when she healed your leg or when that stallion returned her energy to her.”
Trace looked blank, “I guess I missed something, because I didn’t see that happen. I was in a fair amount of pain.”
“I didn’t even notice until we got back through the gate and people started staring at us,” Pink told Johann.
“We’ll have to get it back the way it was,” Johann said. Pink was inclined to agree with him.
“Why would you want to do that?” Trace asked. “This color is much prettier. Your hair almost looks alive it’s so brilliant.”
Johann wasn’t sure what Pink had confided in Trace. He left the answer up to her.
“It’s because of its brilliance that I have to dye it. If the merchant has sent a description abroad looking for his property, no one will be able to miss this hair.”
“True,” Trace agreed hesitantly. “I've never seen hair that color.” Then turning to Johann he asked, “Didn’t you say she was considering enlisting?”
“Yes.” 
A broad smile covered Trace‘s face. “Then there’s the answer, once she swears in service to the Crown all other claims are worthless. She has certainly proven she can handle a weapon and with her friend, she should be very good at tracking in the forest.”
“Her friend?” Johann asked.
“That wolf she hangs out with, outside the city. In fact, with assets like that I’d like to pull some strings and take her back to my unit. We could certainly use somebody who’s that good in the woods. He helped her get the drop on me, that’s no small task.”
Pushing his hair back behind an ear, he looked at Johann and said, “I remember some of the stories you used to tell me while I was growing up, and it wouldn’t surprise me at all if not a single person here knows she’s a witch or even a Healer. She won’t get pulled into the Wizards’ Corps. She was certainly willing to let me suffer after she shot me. At least until she realized we were family,” he said with a grin. “We have a very real need of her as a Healer in our unit. She’ll be able to use her skills without word getting back to HQ. We’ve had a request in for a year for a Healer. We keep getting told that there are not enough Healers in the Army to be sent out to all the small units. In the meantime we have good soldiers dying needlessly because we don’t have anybody to take care of them. This would be perfect.” His enthusiasm grew as he spoke.
Johann grinned at his grandson's excitement. “That would be a very good plan if you think you can pull off getting her the assignment without having to go through training first. The less time she spends around Relante‘s wizards the better.”
“From what I’ve seen, she doesn’t need training. We can probably prove that.” He turned to Pink and asked, “Can you handle a sword anywhere near as well as you handle a bow and a knife?”
“I’m competent,” she said, uncertain whether knowing the drills Conall had taught her would translate into skill with a sword.
Trace departed to recover his belongings from the barracks he was staying in, and returned to the room just in time to see her gazing out through the open window with a detached look on her face.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Wha’.” A hand flew to her head, covering the bump she’d just gotten banging her head on the window as he startled her. She glanced around and saw who it was, and told him, “Just saying goodnight to Conall.”
“You can talk to him at this distance?”
“Probably a good deal further, however at this distance it begins to take more effort and concentration. It’s no longer just a conversation. You’ll be glad to know he approves of your idea—he’s been getting lonely and nervous out there. He howled several times the first night we were here and I gather some of the local boys thought they should go hunt the wolf. Not that they have anywhere close to the skill required to get him. You never know when somebody might just get lucky, or unlucky if you want to look at it that way since they can’t kill him.”
“Well I’m glad he approves. I’ll get to work on that tomorrow.” 
He looked around the room and noticed Johann was nowhere to be seen. “Where’s grandfather?” 
“I’m not sure,” she replied. “He’s been spending more and more time away. Angel and I have been busy exploring the city, and visiting Conall. Johann looked up some old friends. He invited me to go with him a couple of times but I didn’t want to intrude. Went once and felt in the way. He’s given me so much, if suddenly he wants his own life, that’s his decision. Since we hope to be leaving, it would make me happy if he has found friends to keep him company.”
She yawned and looked at her bed. “It’s late. With all the excitement of meeting my long lost brother,” she said with a smile, “I’m rather tired and need to get some sleep.”
Trace unrolled his bedroll on the floor under the window. She made him turn his back while she changed into her sleeping shift and then she slid under the covers. Rolling on her side, she asked him, “Will joining the Army truly end any claim Garec might have on me?”
“Absolutely,” he assured her, “nobody would be stupid enough to lay claim to somebody who belongs body and soul to the Crown. That would be a very fast way for him to become a very poor man.”
“Goodnight,” she murmured contentedly.
“Goodnight,” he returned. As a quiet afterthought he asked, “By the way sis, what should I call you? I reckon if I’m to be your brother, I should at least know your name.”
“Your grandfather and I decided that this would be a good time to start using, Bellana, the name my father gave me, you may call me Bella as he did.”
“What of your last name?”
“I don’t remember my last name, we decided if I was to be your sister I should probably be a Gunter also.”
“That’ll do,” he said. “I’ll get it started tomorrow.”







Chapter 23





Lying on the floor listening, Trace heard her breathing deepen into the regular pattern of someone sound asleep.
Sleep did not come so easily to him. In his mind he planned what must be done in the morning. He would need to convince his superiors that his “sister” was combat ready or she would never be allowed to go with him to his unit’s position near the border. She would probably have to go through many weapons’ tests. He hoped she was, as she said, at least “competent” with an assortment of weapons. That would certainly make it easier. 
There was no question she was competent with her bow. She looked too lightly built to handle a sword. She had said she could; until proven otherwise he would have to believe she was telling him the truth. 
The other problem he foresaw was that she could easily have been the girl of his dreams. Her slumbering innocence, drew him.  One move that was not entirely brotherly could cause more trouble than either of them would care for. There were other women in the Army, but this sister of his was far better looking than any that he had met so far. She would be very popular with the male soldiers. While most of them would respect her as a fellow soldier, he could foresee a rough settling in period. 
All the more reason to take her with him. He knew the soldiers in his unit well. Their lives depended on each other. There were only one or two men he could imagine giving her a hard time. Trace wanted to protect her. He watched her small perfect breast rise as she snored softly. His face heated with a rush of blood. He fought down the urge to stand beside her; just to stare at her. How could his grandfather bring him somebody so stunning and tell him she’s his sister? That just wasn’t fair! That was his grandfather.
The wolf was another matter. He would be no problem. From what his grandfather said, he would probably be invisible most of the time. He would be a boon to the unit as long as he was happy with the way Bella was being treated. There was little doubt in Trace’s mind that if there was any problem he couldn’t handle himself, the wolf would be there to handle it. Bella could be naked in the woods and she would be perfectly safe. That mental image caused him some moments of discomfort.
 The connection to the stallion that traipsed through the forest with her was odd. No lead rope and he still hung by her side as though glued there. Plainly he did not care for anybody else. She had warned Trace to stay away from—what did she call him—Angel. One glimpse of those teeth had been enough to convince him not to challenge her warning.
If they were going to return to his duty station she would have to ride him. Annoyed, Trace realized he hadn’t bothered to find out if she could ride. She seemed so capable in every other respect it hadn’t even crossed his mind earlier that she might not be able to. Now that he thought about it, it was very unlikely she did know how. Slaves were rarely permitted to ride, and since she had run away, everything she described had been a matter of walking on her own two feet. That could be a problem. 
Perhaps that was why she had not yet ridden Angel. Nobody else could get close to him and she had no idea how to train him. He would ask her about that tomorrow, there was no denying Angel was the finest horse he had seen in a long time. Too bad he was so devoted to someone who apparently had no clue. 
Of course when Trace arrived in Relante two years ago he had been little better. He had ridden, but his skills left much to be desired. Now there were days when he found himself in the saddle for eighteen hours at a time—pausing only long enough to rest the horse or to swap to a new one. 
One horse had died underneath him... Discovered well inside Telgarn territory, he had no choice but to run. Only two things had saved him that time. A well thought out escape route and a horse with more heart than sense. 
 Fortunately by the time the horse dropped, Trace was close enough to the bolthole he had arranged--just in case--to get there on foot. He remained there for two weeks as a company of Telgarn soldiers rode back and forth in the area, searching for him. They had given up and went back to their post, but that was one of several experiences he had nightmares from.
Trace’s thoughts quieted. With a look at the girl resting on the bed he sighed heavily and turned to face the window. He fell into a restless sleep until a short time later they both awoke when the door to the room opened. It turned out to be Johann returning and everybody went back to sleep.
#
The next morning, Trace rose early and went to HQ to make the necessary arrangements. He returned to the room just past noon wearing a smile. 
“Well Sis, if you’re competent with a sword, I think I have everything set up. They want to test you of course. They could never send anyone to my post that they weren’t certain was very competent with a weapon. I’ve convinced them to test your skills.” 
He paced, hands behind his back, something clearly on his mind. “Please don’t take offense, but I have to ask this. You have a horse, but I need to know if you can ride him. ”
Bella was quiet so long he expected the answer to be no. After she walked over and opened the window, she turned back to him with a smile and said, “Yes. I mean I’m not experienced but Conall tells me Angel is willing.”
Exasperated, Trace said, “The horse being willing does not mean you will have the skill to stay in the saddle.”
“Angel will not let harm come to me. I may not look like an expert, but I'll stay on his back.”
Trace shook his head, then shrugged his shoulders and said, “That’s one thing the Captain will want to see before you will be assigned to my post.” 
Obviously there was more to her horse than horseflesh. He hoped she was right about him. The fact that she could speak to him, even if it was through the wolf, set Angel well apart from other horses. 
“First thing tomorrow morning we’re to report to the practice fields, Captain Farren will be testing you himself. He said he’s seen you around and would prefer that as few people as possible, soldier or civilian, knows that you’ve enlisted and where you were sent. There are things you will need to know about our unit before you're sent there, but we can’t discuss them here. There is a room in HQ shielded by wizards where we can talk. Right now I’d be happier if you would prove to me that you can ride Angel, just to set my mind at ease. I prefer not to be made a fool, in front of the Captain.”
She turned back toward the window and after a brief consultation, she said, “Let’s go.”
They went down to the stables. She opened Angel’s door, and he joined her in the aisle. By the time she finished grooming him, she seemed confident of her ability to ride him.
The rapport between horse and girl was incredible to watch. 
Once he was groomed, Angel lay down in the middle of the aisle and Bella straddled him, wrapping both hands firmly in his mane. Ever so carefully, Angel rose to his hooves. Bella’s slight weight was little hindrance to him. Once he was standing he stayed still while Bella found her center of balance. When she stopped shifting about, he moved off, walking out the stable door.
“Wait,” Trace yelled. Angel paused in response. “I don’t suppose we could at least put a bridle on him? You will draw a lot of attention to yourself going out like that.” 
Angel turned around and came back to him. “I guess that means he consents,” Bella said.
Trace’s jaw dropped when the horse turned around. He didn’t have a bridle with him, apparently neither did Bella. “Let me run down to the garrison stables and grab a bridle,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
#
Bella dismounted and Angel calmly returned to his stall. She was excited. She had never ridden before. Sitting on Angel’s back had been incredible, the warmth of his back, and the power of his muscles made her feel secure. The sensation of calm and confidence he exuded didn’t hurt either.
Shortly Trace returned, riding a small bay saddlehorse. Dismounting, he led the horse in, and handed a bunch of straps to Bella. She knew it was a bridle but it made no sense to her. 
Seeing her confusion he handed her the reins of his horse and walked over to Angel’s stall. As soon as he touched the door, Angel rushed him, teeth bared. Bella remembered Lorn’s statement that she would be the only one capable of putting a bridle or saddle on him, and yelled “Stop!” But he had already taken Angel’s warning to heart. He stepped back and walked over to where she held his horse, and removed the bridle it was wearing. Giving the straps he’d brought for Angel, a shake it fell out to a recognizable form. 
He demonstrated how to put it on. Sliding one hand over the horse’s head to prevent him from throwing it in the air, he slid the nose piece over his muzzle. She noticed this bridle was different from the one Trace’s horse wore. It didn’t have the piece of metal that went in the horse's mouth. 
Angel’s was just a braided piece of rawhide, nearly an inch thick that went around his nose, a piece that went over his ears and a rein that attached to the bottom of the rawhide loop. 
“This is called a hackamore,” Trace told her. “I figured if it was only for appearances, there was no sense making him wear a bit.”
He replaced the bridle on his horse and handed her Angel‘s hackamore. This time he placed the strap she needed to slide over his ears, in her right hand and threw the reins over her shoulder so they didn’t drag the ground or get in her way and she headed back over to Angel’s stall. She reached between his ears as Trace had just shown her but as soon as the rawhide band was below his head, Angel lowered his muzzle in it.
“Is there anything normal about you or your friends?” Trace asked with a laugh.
Bella just smiled at him and said, “I suppose you probably ought to demonstrate to him how to put a saddle on, in case this captain expects me to be using one tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do a little more work on that one. Even if he wants to I don’t see how he could do it himself. We’ll go over that when we get back from our ride.”
Angel once again laid down for Bella to mount. The stable boy appeared as they rode through the door and he gave them a big smile and waved. “I thought you said you never rode him,” he called to Bella.
Her excitement left her speechless, she just smiled in reply.
They rode out the gate, and through the crowded streets of the market. Angel stepped quietly through all the people, a path opening like magic before him. Catching on to this phenomenon Trace brought his horse in step behind Angel. 
Once outside the city, he urged the bay, back up beside Angel and Bella. Then he passed them, kicking the gelding into a trot. Angel followed. For the first several strides Bella clung to Angel’s mane and bounced horribly then Angel adjusted to trotting with the unaccustomed weight and smoothed out his pace so she barely moved at all. Trace took a sharp left turn and Angel followed like a military drill team horse. Bella barely noticed the shift of direction. No matter how unbalanced she was, Angel always seemed to be underneath her. She knew that if she had been riding a normal horse she would have been in trouble but Angel took care of her. 
One day, she supposed, she would have to learn how to ride a regular horse but she would get through tomorrow’s tests with Angel’s help. They arrived at the woods and Conall joined them. Trace’s horse jumped when he appeared beside them but other than a small snort, he did not react negatively. Trace pulled down to a walk. When she came up beside him he said, “That’s odd, I would have thought a wolf that size would terrorize this poor beast.”
Bella thought back to when she had first met Conall and told him, “Conall’s scent does not identify him as a wolf to the horse. As long as he doesn’t seem to be attacking, the horse shouldn’t be frightened. His scent is human. One more way the wizard that cursed him thought to punish him. Denying him even the company of a pack. In this case it works for us.”
“How powerful a wizard this must have been, to even change his scent. Unless, as we were discussing last night Conall was originally human.” 
Again Bella felt the tiny prick of enthusiasm coming from Conall, “I like your brother. He is very wise.”
“But is he right?”
“I cannot tell you.”
“The curse?” she asked.
“The curse,” he agreed, then yelped in pain, collapsed and began shaking. For once he seemed to be expecting it and prevented Bella from feeling the effects.
Concerned, Trace asked “Is he all right?”
“I think he pushed the limit of what he was allowed to tell us, by telling me the curse prevented him from letting us know whether you're right or wrong.” She slid to the ground and laid a hand on Conall’s quivering shoulder, steadying him. “In its own way this reaction answers the question anyway." She knelt down and looked Conall in the eye. "Do you know who you were?”
The emotion pouring off of Conall was incredible; intense happiness, mixed with sadness and lingering pain.
“No, I do not. I remember every bit of the curse, but it happened so long ago, that's the only thing I remember from that time frame. There were times when I was more dead than alive. There have been many things I try very hard to forget. At one time in despair I let go of my original life. Since I met you I have struggled to dredge it back to the surface in hopes that perhaps one day I can regain that which I was. The memories are not there—it has been too long.” Despair crept into his mind voice.
“Keep trying, you never know when something will be familiar. Does my knowing that you used to be human in any way change the curse?”
“It seems to have released the restriction upon telling you that you're correct. That much alone is a great victory. A huge tapestry must be unraveled one strand at a time.”
Such feelings of joy rolled over her that she laughed out loud. At Trace’s inquiring glance she told him, “Conall thinks you are exceptionally wise. You’ve just unraveled a strand of his curse.”
“Who is he?” Trace asked.
“It’s been so long he doesn’t remember. He claims who he was is not bound by the curse. It's more a matter of time and trauma that causes his identity to be hidden. Perhaps he'll recall it, now that he truly wishes to.”
As Conall regained his feet, Angel lay down for Bella to remount. As soon as Angel was standing, Trace’s horse shot forward, weaving in and out of low hanging branches. Angel followed on his heels. Bella never even lost her balance as they raced forward. Angel recognized this for what it was, much more rapidly than Bella did. Her first thought was that Trace’s horse had spooked and bolted. Conall informed her that this was just a test; the bay gelding was firmly under control. Knowing this, she urged Angel on. He passed the other horse, and once out front, Angel wove a pattern back and forth, forcing Trace’s mount to slow down. 
Bella just laughed at his tricks. She was delighted at the day’s events. When they slowed to a walk, Angel turned around. He apparently decided they had proven their point and was ready to return to the stable. 
“Are you hungry?” she questioned Conall.
“I'll be all right until tomorrow,” he returned. The sensation of joy still colored his thoughts.
“I guess we’re done,” she said to Trace, who had already taken Angel’s none-to-subtle hint and turned around.
Trace put the gelding in an empty stall at the inn. He explained that since he had signed it out, he was responsible for it. Nobody would be concerned unless he failed to show up when he was assigned to be somewhere. 
Stopping in front of Angel’s stall, he took the saddle off. Then he showed Bella and Angel how to put it on. The gelding did not appreciate the demonstration of the proper method of tightening the girth, and brought a hind hoof up in an attempt to kick at the unpleasant squeezing around his barrel. His pinned ears warned Trace it was coming; the hoof didn’t even come close to striking him. Bella was grateful she had Angel and didn’t have to worry about whether or not he would be kicking at her. 
Trace made arrangements with the stable boy to keep his horse and turned him over to be groomed. Bella cared for Angel, assuring Trace that she would manage the saddle tomorrow if necessary.
They found Johann sitting on a nearly empty bench at a rough hewn table in the common room with a man she had only seen once. The thick black hair was now thinner, salt and pepper, but the wide shoulders, sharp features, and immense size, were unmistakable. Bella stared in awe at the fire wizard that stepped out of the vision Conall had sent her.
Johann and his friend were so deep in conversation they failed to notice Trace and Bella, until they sat down beside the two old men. Johann looked up with a startled glance. His friend nodded to Trace and examined Bella.
“This is my grandson and granddaughter, Trace and Bella,” Johann told the stranger. Looking at the two of them, he said, “This is my old friend Paulus.”
The stranger raised an eyebrow as he introduced her as his granddaughter. He said, “That’s right Johann, I am an old friend. I remember Trace, but you never told me you had a granddaughter, unless young Trace here has gotten married…”
“Nothing of the sort,” Johann hurriedly quashed that rumor. “We adopted her some time ago, her father was lost at sea, and her mother was unable to care for her so we took her in.” 
Paulus scratched his receding hairline, smoothing an unruly lock into place, considering his friend. Turning to her, he looked straight in her eyes and asked, “Where were you born then, if your father was lost at sea?” 
“I lived the first several years of my life in Swadan. My mother moved east after my father died, but hard times followed her. When we met Johann, he was kind enough to put us up. When he offered to care for me, my mother was grateful. She moved away and I haven’t heard from her since.” This was not rehearsed. Nobody ever questioned it beyond the initial explanation, but Johann nodded his head, with a small smile meant just for her. Johann had explained that when fabricating a tale, it was most believable if the truth were interwoven somewhat. She was an apt student.
Trace remained quiet throughout this exchange. Paulus turned to him and said, “You never mentioned you acquired a sister when you came to town two years ago.”
“Two years ago I was excited with my own plans. I had other things on my mind than discussing the brat that tossed me off my throne as only grandchild. You‘re fortunate I remembered to deliver Grandfather’s letter.” 
Bella was amazed. He was smooth, and quick on his feet. No pause for thought, no nervous twitch as he fumbled for an explanation, he fell right in with the tale. Paulus seemed satisfied.
Bella jumped back in the fray, “I’d have recognized him anywhere, from your description of him, Grandfather.” 
Paulus’ lips thinned as he considered the unknown before him. “What exactly has he told you about me?”
Johann frowned, “I’m afraid I don’t talk about the days we served in the Wizard Corps together much. I only mentioned you because you're the only one I keep in touch with.”
“Nonsense Grandfather. After all the two of you were through together you mention him more than you remember.” She turned to Paulus and said, “He told me he didn’t know how you were able to come to grips with the final battle with Telgar.  He mentioned you have fire at your command.“
Johann’s brow furrowed, but Paulus looked at her with less suspicion. “If he told you about that battle, you must be family. I’d have sworn he never mentioned it to anyone. Then I guess you two should be the first to know, I’ve offered your Grandfather a position as King’s Wizard. We’ve spent the past week hashing out details and he has agreed to accept.
Bella’s eyes widened. Trace’s Jaw dropped. Simultaneously they said, “Are you certain you want to do that, Grandfather?”
Paulus laughed. “Now I believe you. I had to agree that Johann would never be required to attend the King in battle, but once that detail was out of the way, we had few problems coming to terms.”
“What happened to the wizard that held that position?”
Trace nudged her with a knee, but Paulus just laughed. “He talks of the past but not the present, I find that peculiar old friend.” He examined Johann and then Bella, but she had given him irrefutable proof in his own mind that she was who they claimed her to be. “I am the wizard who holds that position. I find palace life gratingly dull. Soldier first; wizard second, has always been my creed. With Johann accepting the duties of Palace Wizard, I am free to become commander of the Wizard Corps.”
Bella smiled, happy for Johann’s good fortune. Food arrived and Trace and Bella fell to eating, allowing Johann and his friend to continue their discussion. When the food was gone they bid their elders good night and returned to the room.
“How did you know who Paulus was? Grandfather never even told me about that battle.” His eyes darkened, lips pulled down into a frown. For the first time Trace looked jealous of her relationship with Johann.
Bella didn’t want an enemy; she defused the emotion with the truth. “Conall was there. He showed me the battle to demonstrate why I shouldn’t join the Wizard Corps. I recognized Paulus when I saw him. Trust me Johann does not talk to me either about those days.”
Smiling again, Trace said, “What an amazing life he must have led. The times he’s lived through. The things he’s seen.”
Bella didn’t argue. Without knowing specifics about the curse, it might not look so terrible. 
 Trace accepted her silence. “We better turn in. Morning in the Army comes mighty early.”
True to his word, the following morning they rolled out of bed before the sun rose. They dressed quietly, trying not to wake Johann, then walked downstairs. 
Nobody was in the common room. Trace assured her the Army would serve them breakfast. They went out in the stables and Bella groomed Angel until his coat gleamed. She even buffed his hooves until the tiny flecks of silver caught and reflected the small amount of available light. Then she held the hackamore up for him to put on and joined Trace in the aisle. 
Just as they opened the door to the outside, the stable boy stuck his head out of the loft. He saw who they were and in his sleepy mind made certain it was their own horses they were leading and tucked himself back inside.
Trace led the way through the streets to a building with the delightful aroma of sausage and fried apples coming from it. He tied his horse to a hitching rack. When she tried to do the same to Angel, he objected. Angel moved away from the rack and she just dropped the reins, anybody who saw him would assume he had been trained to ground tie. 
She was amazed at the variety of food available. She ate the biggest breakfast she had ever had in her life. Trace assured her she would need every ounce of energy before this day was over. After they ate, they returned to the inn so Bella could collect her weapons. 
She strapped the sword to her side, and slung her bow and the quiver of arrows over her back. Her throwing knives were tucked into their hidden sheaths and her dagger was strapped to her side, opposite the sword. She was as ready as she was ever going to be.










Chapter 24




They rode outside the city, following the crowds to the practice fields. Trace led the way to a relatively quiet corner of the field. He pointed out Captain Farren, already there, waiting for them.
As soon as Trace introduced her the captain looked at her and said, “Since you’re already mounted… Why didn’t you come with a saddle?” he asked. 
“I don’t own one,” she answered, “I’ve just started riding my horse, so until recently I had no need.” She didn’t mention that recently was yesterday. Even with that omission the Captain rolled his eyes back, then glared at Trace, “Why am I wasting my time? I thought you told me she was ready to go with you.”
He started to walk away and Angel took matters into his own hooves. He darted around the captain and slid to a stop, reared in the air and pushed himself off the ground. During all this, Bella remained perfectly seated. 
Captain Farren turned back around and said, “I guess we could issue her a saddle.” 
He ordered them over to the archery range and Bella and Trace dismounted. She grabbed the bow from her back and nocked an arrow, the Captain ordered her to fire at the closest target. As she sank arrows into the center of the target he had her fire at targets further and further away, until she was shooting at the one farthest away. She never missed. The captain turned to Trace and said, “You didn’t lie, she is very good with a bow. Very well, knives now.” She removed her dagger from her belt and it caught the captain’s eye. “That looks like Army issue,” he said.
“It was given to me by the man who trained me to use it. A border guard who lives close to Trell.”
They ran some drills with the knife and while the Captain was nowhere near as impressed as he had been with her archery skills, he leaned over towards Trace, and Bella overheard his muttered, “She’ll do.”
By this time, between the workout she was getting and nerves, she was dripping sweat in spite of the cool temperature. Captain Farren allowed a short rest. 
Along the field, soldiers had been coming and going most of the morning, her archery trials had gathered a fair crowd, but they had dispersed during the more mundane knife drills, some stayed to watch. Most notable was one of the soldiers that she had seen her first morning in the city. One of the highly competent unit that had been given ‘right of way’ as they marched down the street. The one that stood now in her crowd wore captain’s rank pinned to his uniform, and he followed every move she made.
When Captain Farren declared the break over he pointed to the sword. She drew the weapon—also army issue—and ran perfectly through the drills Dylan had taught her. She continued into the more intricate maneuvers Conall had instructed her in.
 From the corner of her eye, she saw Trace. He looked immensely relieved. The captain in the crowd became very interested. He spoke to Captain Farren then sent a private scrambling. Captain Farren ordered Bella to stand down. She sheathed the sword and relaxed.  
The private returned carrying two wooden practice swords. She assumed that if she had to spar it would be against Trace. She knew all the moves but the only time she ever sparred against someone it had been young Jon. When the black uniformed captain took the second sword from the private, her heart dropped to her stomach, she was not ready for this. Without warning he attacked. A yelp escaped her throat before she clamped her lips shut. Instinct alone prevented a very quick end to the match, from his initial brutal flurry of strokes. 
He withdrew briefly and she collected her scattered wits enough to form a good defense. The match went on for what seemed to her an interminable amount of time. She was sure that after the first attack he was taking it easy on her. As he tried one attack after the other, the patterns Conall taught her came fully into play. Seeing no end in sight, she started to look less toward defending herself, and more for an opening to strike back at him. He was very good and very practiced. He didn’t leave openings. She feinted, cutting in low. Her initiative in taking the offensive threw him out of his practiced routine. For just a split second he was off balance. She drove at him with a flurry of strokes so rapid they could barely be followed, pressing her advantage. Finally she landed an overhand stroke on his right shoulder. Not a killing blow but it would have disabled him if they had been using steel. 
He stopped, dropping the tip of his practice blade towards the ground, “Very well fought,” he said tersely. “Who taught you?”
She glanced at Trace, and the apprehension in his eyes told her not to mention Conall. “A border guard named Dylan Marner,” she answered. “I stayed with him while I nursed his son back to health. In exchange he taught me to defend myself.”
The name brought recognition into the eyes of both the captains facing her. “When were you with him?”
She lied without hesitation. “Nearly a year ago. Why do you ask?”
“We have dealt with Sergeant Marner recently. If I’d realized he could train recruits so well I might have offered him a position when my men met him. Do you think he‘d be interested?”
The Captain of the elite group watched her closely, his gaze drifting occasionally to Trace, watching for reaction from either one of them. 
Trace knew nothing, Bella was not afraid he would contradict her, still she clung to a reasonable version of the truth. “He lives on his wife’s farm. They have a young son. He seemed to enjoy his life very much. He was injured in a campaign several years ago and remained there to recover, I doubt very much that he wishes to leave.” Bella tried to discourage the Captain from the idea of returning to speak to Dylan.
“What was wrong with Sergeant Marner‘s son that you had to nurse him back to health?”
Bella thought fast, with only a brief pause, she said, “He cut his leg open and it got infected. His mother was thinking they might have to remove the leg but I knew some herbal compresses that cured the infection. It took more than a month but we had him up and about with two good legs.” There that ought to be safe from being interpreted as Healing instead of healing.
“Sergeant Marner told us a healer was staying at his house just before my men arrived. Stitched up a prisoner, we had gone to collect.” The black clad captain shook his head angrily. “That was a waste of our time. He hasn’t said a word of sense since he arrived here. I gather the healer did not know how to keep infection from the wound. He raves about fairytale princes and changelings but says nothing worth the hearing. I would hate to think that misbegotten healer had been you.”
“I lay claim to no more than being an herbalist. No healer can cure all wounds. If this man was already badly off even a Healer with magic may not have been able to save him.” Bella averted her glance from the captains, seeking out Trace instead. What had Johann done to the poor man? She had not noticed anything wrong with him when they left. 
Her attention was drawn back to the man in front of her by his angry question. “What rank are you, and why are you out of uniform?” 
She remained calm, this question she had a truthful answer for. “I have not yet enlisted. Therefore I have neither rank nor uniforms,” she responded, emboldened because she knew that this man, no matter how many soldiers he might command, did not have any say over what she did or did not do.
“Who is your sponsor then that you’re out here on the military training field?”
From beside her, Trace spoke up, his tone of voice was much meeker than hers had been. “That would be me, Sir. She’s my sister. My grandfather charged me with her care, but I must return to my unit shortly and Captain Farren agreed to send her with me if she passed muster on weapons testing and horsemanship.”
“Horsemanship? I missed that.” He looked back at Bella. “Would you mind doing a repeat performance?”
She didn’t miss the fact that he now couched his orders in the form of a request, treating her as a civilian. 
The duel had taken a lot out of her. Exhausted, she was sorely tempted to tell him no, but the expression on Trace’s face said the whole plan could hinge on this man’s opinion. Somehow the decision had been taken away from Captain Farren. 
She glanced at Angel as Conall told her, “Whistle for him.”
She whistled and Angel awoke from his nap and came towards her as though trained to respond. She nearly laughed, Angel and Conall were playing it up. Pinning his ears at the man in the black uniform, Angel laid down for her to mount. Bella caught the envious looks of some of the other young men and women, destined to be foot soldiers. She was learning to roll with his motion. She helped him stand with ease. 
Conall was in her mind. “Relax your body, grip with your legs and just stay with him. Angel plans a show.”
“Thanks for the warning,” she thought back at him.
She did as she was instructed, just staying out of Angel’s way, freeing up his muscles. He started with a showy trot, nearly in place, extremely collected. Next he went into a canter, also very collected he cantered a very small tight circle. At the end he went into the center and repeated the move he had done for Captain Farren earlier. This time at the peak of the leap his hooves struck out as though to crush an opponent’s helm. He went from this move, into a leap into the air in which he struck out both forward and back with his hooves. Despite his best effort, he jostled her some doing this maneuver. If Conall had not warned her to grip with her legs she may have been lost. 
When he returned to the ground, Angel took off down the practice field at an incredible speed, slid to a stop and did a one hundred eighty degree turn before he finished sliding. He returned at the same speed and slid to a stop directly in front of the Captain, snorting at him. She loosened her legs, but did not have the strength to stand so she remained seated.
“Nicely done,” he said. 
He was staring at Angel and it was no longer just the young privates who were envious. “Would you allow me to try him?” 
Trace looked worried, turning down this man could be the end of their plan but allowing him to try could well be the end of him. 
The answer came from Conall, “Angel says to let him try. He promises not to kill him.” This last came with laughter behind the thought.
She slowly dismounted allowing her rubbery legs a moment to solidify before she stopped leaning on Angel. It was only fair to warn the Captain, so she told him, “I'm the only one who’s ever ridden him and we have a… let’s call it, an understanding. I don’t use whips or spurs or any sort of cruelty, and he gives me what I require. I do not tell him what to do, I ask.” Silently she thought to Conall, “He does what he darn well feels like doing, I just sit there and pray to the horse god, Chevor.”
With laughter, Conall said, “It would probably do you much more good to pray to Eina, the Goddess of the unicorns.” 
Angel refused to lie down for the Captain to mount. To his credit, the leap that would have placed him on any other horse’s back was graceful...until Angel sidestepped out from under him. He managed to recover and land on his feet, glaring at Bella as though this was something she’d trained Angel to do; but she was innocent. On his third attempt, Angel allowed him to land where he wanted too. A touch of magic shored up the immature vertebrae and made the landing something like leaping straddle legged on a rock. The captain hid the explosion of pain well, but Conall relayed it to Bella.
The man was a skilled rider. That was obvious, but Angel would have nothing to do with it. When the Captain finally convinced Angel to move forward, it was a very slow ambling walk. None of the proud warhorse that had been displayed moments ago. He looked far more like a farm horse; barely fit to be hooked to a plow. When the Captain asked for a trot, Angel did in fact trot. But even with her basic lack of knowledge, Bella could tell it was a bone-jarring, earth-shaking, trot that the captain worked extremely hard to ride. Angel stopped in front of Bella and the man slid from his back.
“Don’t have to worry about him being stolen from you, do you?” he asked with an unexpected touch of humor.
“To tell the truth,” Bella told him, “you’re very fortunate to still be walking and breathing. He was doing me a favor to let you on in the first place.” With that warning, Angel had been patient long enough. The words were no sooner out of her mouth than his head snaked around and hit the Captain in the shoulder, the same place Bella had struck with the sword. Angel’s mouth was closed so there wasn’t any broken skin or torn muscle but there would be bruising.
One warning strike was enough. With a muffled curse, the Captain quickly moved out of range. Turning to Captain Farren he said, “See me this evening.” Turning back to Trace and Bella he added, “You too. Immediately following mess.” With that he left.
Captain Farren dismissed them. Trace saluted, then they mounted their horses and left, before somebody decided they wanted to see something else. Angel walked with care, sensing her exhaustion.
“I just want to get clean and go to sleep,” she said, and Angel headed for the inn. On the way, they passed the black clad captain. He had his troops in formation and they were headed back into town. His right arm did not swing as freely as the left. Trace saluted him as they went by and the salute was returned smartly.
“At least he doesn’t seem to be upset by his ride,” Trace said.
“At least he’s still alive,” she returned. “Conall informed me, Angel promised to let him live, before I agreed to allow him to try. That was all their doing.”
Once again a path opened in front of Angel, and Trace followed close behind. When they arrived back at the stables Angel walked in, nosed open his stall and laid down for her to gently dismount. She was grateful for this courtesy because her legs were rebelling at the idea of holding her weight. Months of walking hadn’t prepared her for such strenuous exercise.
The task of riding, no matter how easy Angel made it for her, stretched her legs in ways they had never stretched before. Her rump was in pain. 
Still, she stood on wobbly legs and groomed him before she sought the peace of her room. 
Gathering her clothing she went to the inn’s bath, delighted to find that despite the early hour, the water in the copper basin was warm. She soaked her weary body until the water cooled. Then she dragged herself out of the bath and back up the steps to fall gracelessly in her bed.
She was asleep before she landed. She was awakened by the door creaking open. At first her sleep-befuddled mind figured Trace or Johann had returned, but the steps crossing the room were furtive. They were headed straight toward her. With as little motion as possible she reached under her pillow for the throwing knives she kept there. The first one thudded into the door as a warning. She sat up and confronted the intruder.







Chapter 25




It was the Captain from the practice field. The smile on his face relaxed her. She knew she just passed another of this annoying man’s tests. 
He remained motionless. The second knife was in her hand, wrist cocked to snap it at him. In her sleepy state she had nearly released it.
"I assume the first one was a warning," he said in a voice, way to calm for a man in his position.
"What are you doing here?" Annoyance lent a sharp edge to her voice. 
He ignored the tone. "I just got done speaking with your grandfather. He wouldn't tell me much about you, said I’d have to speak directly to you. I wanted to know more before our meeting tonight.”
His smile was disarming. "Your brother was with your grandfather, he told me you'd be sleeping. When I told him I was coming over here, your grandfather told me to knock loudly to wake you first or be ready to duck. When I asked what he meant, he said you slept very lightly and were quite deadly. I wanted to test this so I had him provide me with a shield. I must say he didn't lie."
"Who are you?" she asked irritably. Very glad that the knives had been her weapon of choice and not a blast of magical energy. "Trace had everything set with Captain Farren and then you had to stick your nose in. All of a sudden our whole plan may not come together.”
She lowered the knife, and he said, "To answer your question, my name is Captain Torel, I command the King’s Guard. As to why I stuck my nose into your trials, while I must admit your archery is quite impressive, it was your sword drills that most attracted my interest. Your style is unique. Very few people use a sword in just that way and all of them are in my unit. I'm anxious to meet your instructor.”
The tiny knife was passed nervously back and forth from one hand to the other. “You can’t meet him,” she said.
“We already know where he lives. It‘s only a couple of weeks ride.” He walked over to the door and recovered the second knife.
“I don’t mean you wouldn’t be able to find Dylan. I mean you can’t meet the instructor who taught me my final style. Dylan instructed me in the basics, but I never went beyond sparring with his eight-year-old son. I can’t explain my current instructor. If I tried you wouldn’t believe me, some things are best not known.”
He handed her the knife and relaxed as they both disappeared back under the pillow. “Would you tell me about him if it meant the difference between being assigned with your brother or not?”
“I’m afraid not. Unless Conall wants to meet you, you won’t be seeing him.”
“Then he lives around here?” the Captain picked up on the possibility of meeting this elusive person, if the instructor chose to permit it.
“You could say that,” she answered vaguely. “At least as long as I’m here.”
“You talk like he’s a ghost.”
A soft smile lit her face when she said, “A ghost would probably be a bit more believable. You seem to be a good person and I hope you won’t hold this against me.”
He walked to the window and stared out it, as she did most evenings. “There is much to be discussed before we make a decision on whether or not to permit you to do as your brother has requested. An assignment to a dangerous border post without official training, would be unusual. Not that official training could improve your skills much, but it also teaches you to be part of a unit. But you’re right, I won’t hold your denial against you. However lying to me…” He stopped. His brow creased and his lips compressed into a tight line. “We will discuss that tonight. It is not a discussion for such open venues. Whatever your reasons are, I hope they’re valid.”
“I keep telling you they’re not my reasons. What is it you‘re so sure I lied about?” She gritted her teeth, holding in any further outbursts. 
Then in a tone of dismissal she said, “If you don’t mind Captain, I’d like to get up and get dressed now, and I’d rather not do that with you in the room.” 
“You are most refreshing to talk to,” he cast back over his shoulder with a laugh, as he headed for the door. “Not many people will deny me anything I want--much less dismiss me from their room. I haven’t figured out if you truly don’t know who I am, or if you’re that confident in yourself. Whatever it is naiveté, or confident sophistication, or an interesting combination, don’t change. I think we will both find some interesting things out about each other tonight.” With that he left.
She changed clothes, pulling on a light green pair of pants and a dark green tunic.
Once she was dressed, she hobbled to the window, her muscles had stiffened from her ride that morning. She sent her mind searching for Conall, when she found him she said, “You nearly got me in trouble.”
“What’d I do?” he asked, sounding hurt. 
“The swordsmanship style you taught me is that of the King's Guard. Their Captain wants to meet my instructor.”
“Did you tell him that wouldn’t be possible?”
“Yes and he dropped the idea for now, but I don’t think that’s the end of it.”
“You realize the important thing though?” he asked, his mindtouch questioningly happy.
“Yes of course. You used to be in the King’s Guard. I’m sure there are a lot of soldiers that served in the King’s Guard through the years, but it narrows the field considerably.”
Joy emanated wildly through her mind. She knew the emotion didn’t come from her, still it made her giddy.
“Thank you Bella,” he thought. “You keep pulling on the threads.” 
A whine entered his tone as he asked, “Will I see you tonight? I’m hungry.”
Smiling to herself, she promised, “I'll try to get out there as soon as I’m through with the captains this evening. I just woke up so I'll probably not be ready to sleep right away.”
She closed the window and went down to the common room, walking stiffly. Neither Trace nor Johann was there. After taking some carrots to Angel she went out to the market. 
She went to the shop of an herbalist she met the first week in town. 
When Bella first arrived in Relante she went in search of a library but she quickly learned that all libraries were private. Some people steered her to a bookstall but the books were quite expensive. She spent considerable time browsing, but ultimately purchased nothing, contenting herself with learning from other people.
When she arrived at the shop, the herbalist was just closing, when she saw Bella she opened the door back up. They went inside and Bella inhaled deeply. She liked the mingled fragrances of the shop. She could separate some of the scents out. Some were medicinal and some were just used for covering the stronger odors of city life.
Bella made herself comfortable while Delia made chamomile tea.
“I don’t have long tonight, I have an important meeting but I needed something to relax sore muscles.”
Delia came back from the kitchen. She looked nervous.
“There’s been people askin’ ‘bout you,” she said.
“Who?" Bella asked, perhaps a bit too harshly. 
“Several different people.  A couple of days ago there was a pleasant young man with blonde hair, asked for you by description, wanted to know who you were. He come in right after you did. I figured he was just infatuated with you. Then yesterday folks come in askin’ fer someone by description but the hair color an‘ the name were wrong. ’til you walked in with that hair tonight it hadn’t crossed my mind they could be lookin’ for you. Then today, two of the King’s very own Guard come in here, askin’ by name. I hope you’re not in trouble of any kind hon’.” 
Bella felt the blood leave her face. “The only ones who might be trouble are the ones asking for someone with a different name. Hopefully after tonight they won’t be a problem either.”
They talked while drinking tea, but as soon as it was finished Delia got the salve Bella had come for and locked the door as they left. 
When she got back to the Golden Knight, Trace was waiting there for her. He already had her supper; it was just starting to congeal. 
“You’re a lot of trouble,” he said, his face stern, uncompromising. “First you get hired on as my sister. That wasn’t too bad, you and your friends should make life interesting, and you should be an asset to my unit with your Healing skills. So I make all the arrangements and we’re all set. But is that good enough for you? Oh no,” he said allowing a tiny smile to break the sternness of his features. “You’ve got to go and attract the attention of the Captain of the King’s Guard. Did he speak to you this afternoon?”
She laughed. “After I nearly knifed him, yes he did.”
“What did he want?”
She started eating the food in front of her. Then with a shake of her head she said, “He wants to meet my sword instructor. Seems he must have been a former member of the King’s Guard, apparently the drills and style he taught me are unique to those in the Guard.”
“That explains a lot. Torel has never challenged a recruit to a duel before. He probably wanted to know if you could apply the skills or just drill in them. Here I was, afraid you were too lightweight to handle a sword effectively. Your speed was incredible.”
She laughed and said, “Yours would be too if you spent hours staying in front of those snapping teeth. He knows I’m a Healer, he wasn’t at all shy about slicing open an arm or a leg if I was too slow.”
As they ate, he glanced at her repeatedly. When she laid her spoon down he asked, “What’s wrong, Bella?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she replied too swiftly. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
“Grandfather warned me you might have trust issues. Anybody watching you could tell you’re watching for someone to spring from the shadows. What happened this afternoon? It’s not meeting with the captains tonight that’s got you so nervous is it?”
“Not at all,” Bella denied that possibility. “Both Captain Torel and Captain Farren seem like fair and reasonable men.”
“Then what is it? Something's got you on edge and I don’t want any surprises tonight.”
Leaning back in her chair she studied him. “I’d rather not discuss it down here.”
Bella went up to the room to get a cloak, and Trace followed after, refusing to leave the room until she’d told him about the conversation with Delia.
Afterwards they walked to the inner gate. Since they were expected, the guard waved them through and they hurried on to HQ.









Chapter 26




The desk sergeant escorted them to an office in the back of the first floor. They heard no noise as they walked down the long hallway but as the sergeant unlocked and opened the door the strained voices of Captains Torel and Farren could be heard raised in argument. “You can’t send a recruit on a mission like that,” Captain Farren shouted.
Captain Torel responded in a calmer voice, “She’s more talented then eighty percent of your slackers, and she would be an unknown. She would blend right in.”
The sergeant who brought them in cleared his throat to get the attention of the officers. They stopped immediately and turned toward the door.
Trace saluted. “Sergeant Gunter, reporting as ordered.” The officers returned the salute and Torel extended his arm and shook hands with Bella. Not to be outdone, Farren followed his lead.
“As you probably just heard, we have a slight difference of opinion,” Torel said. “Without a doubt, we wish to enlist you in the Army. There are of course, several questions. Among them of course are, ‘Where will you go?’ and ‘Will you receive further training?’ First we need to know a bit more about you. Most importantly I need to know why you lied to us on the practice field this morning. Sergeant Gunter was a bit sketchy on details yesterday. I need to know all there is to know about Bella. Starting with this morning.”
Bella reflected on the events of the morning, what she’d said and hadn’t said, there were so many lies which one was he calling her on? With a boldness she didn’t feel, she met and held his steady gaze. “What is it you're so certain I’ve lied to you about, Sir?”
“Let’s start with, why you claimed Sergeant Marner as your weapons instructor?”
Bella smiled. “As I told you this afternoon, the person who finished my training does not wish to be known. Sergeant Marner did in fact instruct me in basic swordsmanship, so that was not a lie.”
With dogged persistence, Captain Torel asked, “Why would your instructor not want to be known? If he is that talented, he could work with Master Manlin training the Guard.”
Bella searched her mind and found Conall absent. It would seem this room even cut him off from her mind. She was glad, she didn’t want to hurt him with her next excuse. She chewed on her lower lip picking her words carefully. “He does not wish to be seen by anybody, because his form is not natural.”
Captain Torel stopped his pacing and stared at her. “How does a deformed man teach swordsmanship?” 
“I did not say he was deformed. I said his form was not natural.”
Captain Torel glanced at a door in the back of the room, and went on to his next question. “I’m tempted to believe you did begin learning over a year ago, because if, as I suspect, you were at Sergeant Marner’s house shortly before my men arrived there, you have learned your swordsmanship at an incredibly rapid speed.” A hand brushed his shoulder, where first she and then Angel had struck him. “I would hate to think that someone with less than six months experience drew first strike on me. But a few casual statements by locals in the north and the ravings of my prisoner, lead me to believe you were the one who so ineptly stitched him up.”
Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “There was nothing inept in my treatment of that man.”
Captain Farren smiled, joining the interrogation for the first time. “So it would seem Torel, perhaps you need to brush up on your swordsmanship skills. If I understand the young lady’s statement, you have been bested by someone with less than six months experience.” 
Farren turned to Bella. “Why did you not want us to know you sewed him up? Did you do something to cause his madness? My man, Sergeant Garalan’s message said he was alive, healthy and well worth the trip to collect him for the information he could pass on. Yet even the wizards can get nothing sensible from him.” Farren turned to Torel, “Truth spells only work if the person telling lies believes they are telling lies. The wizards tell us the prisoner believes he is telling the truth. So somebody must have convinced him, his nonsense is the truth.”
Bella shrank from his words. She would in no way implicate Johann. In a hushed tone of voice, not certain how much trouble she was in, she asked, “What exactly is he saying. His Ronese was very broken. I could not understand more than bout four words he said while I was there.”
Torel looked to the back door again and scratched his chin. “He rocks in his corner repeating, ‘The Prince lives, the copper changeling pink for the Prince.’ That is all he will say. Sometimes it seems he wants to say something else but then he starts looking over his shoulder, and starts rocking again. If you didn’t do this to him, can you tell me who did? 
Bella's skin chilled. Firmly she looked into his eyes and said, “No.”
He strode to the closet and lifted a hand to the latch then turned back around. “No you cannot? Or no you will not?”
Bella considered the question. In all honesty she did not know if Johann had caused this or not. The man’s injuries had been severe. It was entirely possible that by the time he made the trip back to Relante it had been a result of the journey. She stopped ruminating and stared straight into Torel’s eyes as she said, “No, I cannot.”
“Do you have any idea, what his words could mean?”
“They could simply mean that he is a scout for the enemy and this was some sort of code that would pass the truth spell.” It was even possible the man was not being nonsensical. That brought her back into it because she was reasonably certain, the both the copper and the pink referred to her and Johann had said he claimed the changeling was the Daughter of the Wind. Hadn’t Lorn called her by exactly those words?
“We thought of that,” Farren said. “If it is code, it is unlike anything we have dealt with before.”
Torel returned to the beginning. “Why did you not want us to know you were the one who sewed him up?”
“I took the advice of a wiser person than I. When we discovered that Garalan was regular army my grandfather advised that I keep my involvement quiet. We knew the man was very badly off and there is only so much herbs can do. We did not wish to be held accountable if he died.”
Farren and Torel both turned to the back door. They turned back around and Torel said, “Very well, tell us about Bella Gunter. We need to know everything there is to know. Part of the prisoner’s statement is not so nonsensical and it may involve a very dangerous journey for which I'm searching for just the right person.” He raised a hand and forestalled Captain Farren’s arguments. “ Tell us all there is to know of your life.”
Bella looked from one captain to the other and then stared at the door in the back of the room where they had made it blatantly obvious they had a wizard hidden. She turned back to Torel and began just as she and Johann had rehearsed. “It’s not very exciting. I was born in Swadan. My father died just after I turned six.”  She fast-forwarded ten years (in the tale, the time frame was undefined). “Mother couldn‘t properly care for me and Johann took me in. Grandmother was an herbalist. I learned about herbs from the old woman.” A strange way to put it but Johann had told her they would use a truth spell and worded that way it was the truth if not chronologically correct. She wanted to emphasize her herbal knowledge since Trace‘s unit needed a healer, and they already thought she had messed up her last patient. “I learned more herbology by reading.” 
She paused in the recitation long enough to breathe, then rushed on. “When I was sixteen I had trouble with a powerful merchant when his offer was refused. Johann and I left the village and decided to come visit Trace. We took the long way around to visit Johann’s friend Tomas first.”
Bella paused, reining in the flood of words. She wanted to get them out without being interrupted and having the captains ask questions. But she needed to slow down, too much speed would raise the questions she wanted to avoid. She should not be this nervous. She’d already seen Torel’s eyes light with questions more than once.
“Tomas gave me my horse. His dam was Tomas’s old plow horse Bess. At the time he was two years old and still a runt. Tomas didn’t see him being useful at his size and the colt attached himself to me.” Torel’s interest sharpened but after a glance at Farren she could see him rein in the question on the tip of his tongue. “When we left, Tomas allowed me to take Angel. He started growing as soon as we left and hasn’t stopped since.
“We ran into Dylan and his son a couple of days east of Trell. His son was in a bad way. They‘d run into a Telgarn scout. I managed to save his life, but while we were camped, I ran into an extremely large wolf and I started thinking about personal defense. Dylan agreed to help me learn basic weapon skills in exchange for services rendered in helping his son. I worked on perfecting those skills on the trip here. That’s about it, not a very exciting story.”
From a door in the back of the room, a wizard in blue robes appeared. “That tale was all truth,” he announced, “Ambiguous in places, sketchy in others, but all truth.”
“What is it you’re hiding from me Bella?” Captain Torel asked softly, looking into her eyes.
She remained silent. She had several secrets she didn’t want him to know.
In low undertones he consulted with the wizard in the back. When he returned he said, “We will play a little game of question and answer. When did you meet your second weapons instructor?”
“The same night I met the first,” she answered promptly.
A glance towards the blue robe gave him a nod, truth.
“Then the first knows the second?”
“No.”
Truth.
“Why won’t you tell me about him?”
“Because he doesn’t want me to. He fears people and finds interacting with some of them painful.”
Truth.
“Because of his deformity?”
“You choose to use that word, not I. But yes his problems are largely tied up in his form. And the cause for his form.” She considered her words closely. As soon as she left this room he would know what had been said. She had no wish to anger or hurt him. 
“Could he be a threat to me or anybody you might work with?”
“Not as long as I’m not threatened.”
Truth.
“Could anything you’re concealing become a danger to you, or anybody you might work with?”
She hesitated—Torel focused his attention on her, waiting for the lie. “Possibly,” she responded.
Truth.
Trace shifted uneasily beside her. If Delia hadn’t just told her about the people searching for her by description and another name, she would have dismissed it and honestly not have considered it a danger.
 With the threat of being discovered by Garec, in spite of what Johann and Trace told her about the army taking precedence over prior claims, she couldn’t help but be concerned. She looked at Trace who simply shrugged.
“There is a man who is looking for me,” she said.
Truth.
“Who?”
“The merchant that caused Johann and I to leave home.”
Truth.
“Why?” Torel watched her with unblinking eyes. 
“I omitted a part of my story…” she paused, thinking hard how best to say it without making it appear that she was not Johann’s adopted granddaughter and Trace’s sister. “I didn’t exactly leave my mother’s home—she remarried after my father died. My stepfather was cruel and lazy and when we ran out of money to survive, he sold me into slavery. While I was a slave, Garec stopped at my owner’s house as he passed through on a buying trip to Swadan. He decided he wanted to buy me.”
She stopped. Farren stared at her, his expression unreadable. Torel remained friendly but reserved. Gathering her courage she continued on. “My Mistress would not sell me, but after he left, his interest created other problems for me. That’s when I left. Garec returned from a long buying trip and stopped to try again to persuade my Mistress to sell me. When he found out I ran away he offered to purchase me anyway, on the chance that he could recover me.”
Bella lost courage. She broke eye contact with Captain Torel and stared at the floor. No matter how she told this, it was going to be apparent that she hadn‘t known Trace until arriving in Relante. The one thing she didn‘t want to do was cause trouble for the men who had helped her.
She drew a ragged breath, looked up and stumbled on with the tale. “He returned to his home. It was my misfortune his home happened to be in Johann’s village. By the time he returned to the village, Johann had adopted me and we had come to care for each other. I saw Garec in the market place one day and decided it was time to leave. Johann volunteered to come with me. He wanted to look up Trace.” She finished lamely, “Garec has many connections, and just today I got word from a friend in town that he is still searching for me.”
Truth.
Torel received this information stoically. She watched him silently consult Captain Farren. No matter the antagonism in the room, these two men respected each other. They were quiet for so long that Bella began to think she would be asked to leave. Beside her Trace stood stiffly, the tension high. Torel broke the silence by asking, “Do you wear a brand?” 
“Not any longer.”
Truth.
“How did you have it removed?”
“With magic.”
The wizard shook his head. From the back of the room he said, “That was not quite the truth. I get the feeling the answer was correct. The question was wrong.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry I know something’s not right in her answer but a truth spell doesn’t tell exactly where the falsehood lies.”
Torel‘s head swiveled back around to her. A cat prepared to pounce on a mouse. “Who removed it?”
“I'll not tell you.”
Truth.
“Was it Johann?”
It was important to her that it be known that Johann had not done it. Removing a slave’s brand was illegal and something like that could jeopardize his new position. She was glad this question had been asked. “No,” she replied. “He does not possess the Healing skills required for such a task.”
Truth.
Trace relaxed a tiny bit beside her. 
Torel noticed. His gaze transfixed Trace and he asked, “You didn’t know that did you?”
“No, sir,” Trace replied.
Truth.
“It is not the policy of the Army to enlist runaway slaves,” he said, turning back toward Bella. “But we do make exceptions. In some cases, we don’t know about it until after all the paperwork is signed. In others the person presenting themselves is precisely suited to the needs of the Army.”
Captain Farren had been silent until now. “Your ‘brother’ made a powerful case for you yesterday. His unit does need a skilled healer and your other skills would also be useful there. I think you fit into the category of suited to the needs of the army.”
Torel reached out to Bella and she dared not move. He pushed her hair behind her ear and cupped a hand around her chin, turning her head to the side as though examining a strange new creature. Power washed over her. The familiar sensation of having her aura examined by outside forces caused her to snatch away from Torel. His fingers tightened reflexively, causing a sharp pain before he released her. Her gaze shifted wildly between him and the wizard in the back of the room. He walked back and spoke to the wizard but she was prepared this time. 
She erected shields firmly against the intrusion of power directed at her as they both looked her way. She spun around to leave only to find the door locked from the outside. Fear brought her power surging to the surface and she clamped it down. She didn’t want to become an enemy by destroying the office, in an uncontrolled burst. 
Trace laid a calming hand firmly on her shoulder and she shook as she stood there waiting for the axe to fall.
Captain Torel turned around, his expression grim. “I do not approve of secrets. I cannot trust somebody that will not confide in me.” He looked her squarely in the eye and said, “You are hiding a bit more than I wish to deal with. I do not know your reasons, and I’m not sure I want to turn you over to Farren either, without more facts laid on the table. You cannot adequately perform the job I wish to have you do if you will not be honest with me.”
He noted Trace’s steadying hand and searched both their faces. “I’m not sure I want to give up on you, yet…” 






Chapter 27




Captain Farren’s interest quickened. He didn’t like the idea that she was a runaway slave, but he seemed willing to accept her anyway. “I can speak for myself,” he declared. “You have no say over who I accept or don’t accept into my unit, and the word of Sergeant Gunter has always been good.” 
Bella blanched. She didn’t want Trace’s reputation put on the line because of her. She said nothing. It was out of her hands. 
Drawing out every word, Torel said, “Perhaps you’d like to take that up with my father,” to Captain Farren.
Farren did not respond but the blood rose in his cheeks. Anger sparked in his eyes.
Torel continued, “I didn’t say I was rejecting her out of hand. To the contrary I'm still very interested.” The cat pounced. His attention skewered Bella and she squirmed. “If I were to accept you into the Guard would you be willing to respond honestly to every question asked of you.”
Bella did not answer. Beside her, Trace said, “Your pardon, Sir, but we wanted to stay together.” Even he seemed surprised he’d said it.
Torel looked at him with renewed interest. “Your brother presented your case to Captain Farren, as well as his unit’s need of you. What he couldn’t tell you, because the enemy has people within our fair city, even as we do theirs, is that his unit, himself included, is comprised of scouts and spies.”
He stopped and Farren took up where he left off. “We have a very dangerous mission collecting information within Telgar’s borders. You would most likely not be sent on any missions across the border, but the Company Commander has been desperate to get a healer sent to his garrison for some time now. He has been requesting a wizard, but you would be accepted if your skills are anywhere near as good as Sergeant Gunter reported.” 
Torel watched them closely, his steady gaze encompassing both her and Trace. Softly he said, “I wonder if Sergeant Gunter knows exactly how skilled you are.”
Trace straightened, refusing to back down from what he’d started. Returning Torel’s stare,  he said, “Yes sir. I know exactly how talented my sister is. I have been on the receiving end of her skill.”
“I’m going to ask you this only one more time.” Torel pinned Bella in place with a predatory stare. “If I enlist you into the King’s Guard would you answer any questions I have truthfully?”  
Bella stood up to her full diminutive size and returned his stare. “You do not even know that I have the least desire to become a member of the King’s Guard. As Trace said, we wish to remain together. His unit has a need for my skills. That is where I would prefer to go. But to answer your question, yes, I would answer truthfully those questions I'm capable of answering.”
He started to say something, but she cut him off. “There are some questions to which you will not believe the answer. I'll not be held responsible for convincing you of the truth of my words.”
Torel relaxed. “That is the answer I was looking for.”
“It would seem, Captain Farren and I are both still interested. You already know what you would be doing, working for him. Let me tell you a bit of my task.” He indicated chairs sitting beside the desk. Bella and Trace sat stiffly. Once they were seated, he pled his case.
“As I told you this afternoon, I'm the Captain of the King’s Guard. My unit is charged with the personal safety of the King and his family. The last time we had a major battle with Telgar the heir was lost and presumed dead.”
Grief etched his face. Bella wondered if he took it as a personal failure or if there might be another reason for that grief. “It has been over two years but his body has never been recovered. Recently we received word, from your brother's unit, that Prince Lorun may in fact still be alive and being held prisoner in Telgar’s dungeon. Coupled with the words of the prisoner from Sergeant Marner’s farm, it seems perhaps there is a very real possibility that this overheard comment is more than just rumors. The best I can make out of the nonsense, not only is Lorun still alive, but Thale is willing to trade him for someone or something. If he is alive, it is the Guard’s job to attempt to rescue him.”
The emotion in Torel’s blue eyes spoke with far more eloquence than his words. “You proved yourself more than adequately on the practice field this morning. you're quite capable and very deceptive in appearance. You would stand a very good chance at being able to infiltrate Telgar’s Court.”
He stood above her staring down, but he seemed now to be more pleading and less demanding. “You would need more training. Not in combat skills, but in the art of deception, of being able to blend in no matter where you are. Unless I miss my guess, a former slave knows little in the way of court etiquette.”
She blushed but admitted the truth of his statement. She found being asked to participate in a mission of this importance, overwhelming. Trace’s unit needed her; there was no doubt in her mind about that. She was already fond of having a brother again; she didn’t want to leave him. 
What Captain Torel offered her, at the very best was dangerous, at the worst deadly. She shouldn’t have any problem deciding this, but for some reason she could not give them an answer.
 Hesitantly she said, “I would very much like to stay with my brother, but I can’t give you an answer at this moment.”
The two captains stared at each other, challenge in the air. Torel looked back to her and said, “Very well, we can’t force a decision on you now, but if you’re certain you wish to enlist we had best get the paperwork signed, removing any doubt as to who owns you.”
“Once I enlist, won’t the decision as to what unit I‘m to be in, be taken away from me? Trace said I could include in my enlistment contract what assignment I preferred. At that time he was just referring to whether I wanted to be cavalry, foot, or scout.”
“We will leave your assignment open on the enlistment, giving you choice of duty station either the scouts or the Guard,” Torel said. “Would that be sufficient? If I could get your brother reassigned to the Guard, would that make your decision any easier?” 
Captain Farren glared, “You can’t do that. He’s mine. I trained him.”
“Ah, but I checked. Seems when Trace first joined us, he—as so many do—put down the Guard as his first desired duty position. I most certainly could do that, and if necessary, I can and will go over your head. In this matter I’ll get what I want, if she’s willing.”
“I must discuss this with my brother. I can’t make any choices for him without consulting him.”
“Very well, you two have one day to make up your minds, but I insist you use this room with its shields to discuss it. In the meantime we will have the enlistment contract drawn up. No matter what your decision, you will be enlisted as a corporal due to the fact that you can read and write. That is one of the King's decrees, in an effort to improve education throughout the country, he has made it worth more. Especially to those growing up with dreams of being a soldier. Because of this law, it makes younger children excited to learn, so they too can earn rank and pay when they enter the military service. Realize this fact though. In the border unit, as a corporal you would most likely be placed in a position of command; at least over a squad. In the Guard as a newly enlisted corporal you will be the lowest ranking person.”
Watching her closely for a reaction he said, “If you are to accept either of these positions, you will be giving up a lot of the freedom you gained when you ran away from the life of a slave. Likely more if you choose the Guard, because until you leave for your mission, your movements would be severely restricted to minimize the number of people who see you. You’ll be confined to the inner circle until you leave.”
Bella looked at the three men in the room. Then she angrily stood, knocking her chair over with the sudden motion, to meet Torel’s unruffled gaze. “I did not run away because I wished freedom from responsibility and work. I regretted leaving Hallowisp farm. Mistress Henna was very kind to me. She taught me to read. I left because I feared some of the people I lived around. I left because to stay would have been to put myself at physical risk, and would have resulted in a broken promise to my father.”
Captain Torel looked at her with more respect than he had since she had admitted to being a runaway slave. “We will see to it that this merchant will be compensated for his loss, if you give your sworn oath to serve the Crown, body and soul to the best of your abilities. I'll also send a runner to Mistress Henna. If she cared for you so much, she will be concerned about what happened to you.”
Bella’s cheeks grew hot. As her anger deserted her, embarrassment at her outburst washed over her. She looked at the ground and picked up her chair as she mumbled, “That would be good.” 
Captain Farren went to the door and opened it to call for the desk sergeant who appeared promptly. He gave the orders to have the papers drawn up and then they all sat back to wait.
Bella looked at him in surprise. “The door was locked.”
Captain Farren smiled. “The door is keyed to open to certain people.”
“If I’m no longer needed…” the wizard started to say, but Captain Torel cut him off with a wave of his hand, dismissing him. The blue robed wizard hurried out the door only to be called back by Torel. “Do not go far, I'll have need of your services later.“ 
As the wizard nodded and spun back to the door, Bella noticed he was not any older than she.
“He’s young,” she commented, more to break the silence than for any real interest.
“That is why he wears a blue robe. He is an initiate into the Wizard Corps yet he outranks nearly everybody in this room,” Captain Torel told her.
“Who does he not outrank?”
Captain Farren snorted, “He outranks everybody as far as the military is concerned. I outrank Captain Torel by several years time in grade. That is the only reason this decision is yours to make. When his Royal Highness tires of playing Captain and puts on his princely robes than he will be in command.”
Torel glared. “If my brother is in fact alive, that need never happen.”
“You’ve shirked your duty as heir for two years, now you want to send a promising, but very green recruit off on a wild goose chase in the hope that you need never assume the responsibility of the Crown. Most people would gladly exchange places with you, ‘Captain’.”
This was a bit much for Bella to absorb but she was beginning to see the picture. As implausible as it was, it would seem she was sitting across from a Prince. Trace didn’t seem the least bit surprised. Everybody knew except her.
 Torel watched her and she blushed when she realized she had nearly knifed a prince… but no, he had said Johann had shielded him before he had come up to the room. He had been in her room when she was wearing nothing but a sleeping shift… Oh Gods she had let Angel torture him. 
Everybody in the room could see these thoughts pass through her mind. At least they could figure out some of them, she hoped Captain Farren didn’t know Torel had been in her room.
 Torel took it upon himself to ease her mind, “When I’m dressed like this, I am no different than any other Captain. As Captain Farren has pointed out, even he outranks me.”
This helped, but still she fidgeted in her seat. Blessedly, the sergeant was quick to return, enlistment papers were a common document, the few changes to the norm that were to be added to hers did not take long to do. Everybody in the room signed the documents, including Trace as a witness, and then the captains departed after Farren told them, “The door will unlock in one hours time.”
The door closed behind them and Trace turned to her and whooped. “You have no idea what choice positions have been thrown your way do you? Do you know how hard I tried to get accepted into the Guard. I’d love you forever, dear sister if you could do that for me.”
“But you realize what that would mean for me?”
Trace sobered, “Yes I do, and I guess it is unfair of me to ask you to risk yourself for my gain. My unit is not exactly risk free but it would be much safer than what Captain Torel wants.”
“I would be doing some good there too, I could save lives.”
Trace sat down and stared up to where Bella paced by the door. “If the information that Jasper brought back from his last mission is good. The life you save working for Captain Torel could be far more important than any other person, save the King himself.”
That caused her to think; and what she thought was that she didn’t want that kind of responsibility. There was no question what Trace wanted. She only needed to make up her own mind. If she altered his life he would welcome it. If she didn’t, he would be no worse and no better off than before. She needed to discuss this with others whose opinions mattered to her. “I must think on it, and I must know Conall and Angel’s thoughts.”
In dismay she searched the door with second-sight. They were finished but still had forty-five minutes until the door unlocked. She looked for the flare of energy that would be the seal on the door.
Trace watched her and asked, “Can you open it?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m quite sure I can get us out of here. I’m not certain I can do so without blowing up the door—or the wall.”
She searched the door again and concentrated as Johann had so often instructed her to do. She searched within herself and peeled off a tiny, barely visible, strand of energy. Concentrating on keeping it fine she fed the energy into the lock on the door and twisted it and the knob at the same time. She smiled in victory as the catch released with a click. She trembled with exhaustion as she opened the door.
Trace looked at her and said, “You can Heal an arrow wound and walk away. Opening a door wears you out?”
Grimacing she said, “Angel usually feeds me energy to replace what I use. Besides, I could effortlessly smash through the door. Nearly did earlier. Finesse drains me.”
As soon as they left the room she became aware of Conall’s insistent sending. When she answered, relief flooded through the link.
Trace put a hand on her arm as she started to leave. “Let me go see who’s out front.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I panicked earlier because Torel searched me with second-sight. At a minimum, he knows already that I have magic. I suspect Farren does as well. They are both officer’s. It would not surprise me in the least to find they both have at least some magic available to them.”
Captain Torel was in the front office talking to the blue robed wizard when they walked out. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see them. The wizard glanced at her and then Trace. A strange tingle passed over her as she shielded against his intrusion. She knew she was too slow when his eyes widened in surprise. He silently turned to Torel who nodded and turned to watch them leave.
They went back to the Golden Knight. Trace went with her to collect Conall’s supper from the kitchen. 
They got their horses, and side by side they rode through the orange glow of the lamp lit streets, to the outskirts of the city and into the moonlit woods. 
Conall dashed out of the forest to meet them. His emotions were jumbled joy and distress. “Where did you go? I thought somehow you had been killed. Suddenly I couldn’t sense you, and you have been with me since you first spoke to me. I almost came into town to look for you.”
When she slid off Angel, Conall rushed to her side, pushing against her leg, thrusting his head under her hand. As a wolf they were expressions of caring and a desire to be close to someone. Knowing he was human somewhere under that exterior these expressions were somewhat disconcerting.
Trace laughed. “Friendly tonight isn’t he?”
“He was worried. The shield in that room even kept him away from me, and while I’m not always consciously aware of him, he’s been in my head non-stop for quite some time.”
She relayed the essence of what had occurred in the shielded room. At the end of her recitation Conall looked thoughtful. She felt him picking at the details she hadn’t told him, but she let the intrusion slide without comment.
“Were the decision mine, I would accept the position offered by Captain Torel. If the heir truly is alive, he must be rescued. I know the terrain around the capital of Telgar, I could help you.”
“What does Angel think?”
There was no hesitation in the response. “He does not believe the decision is yours to make. He claims the decision was made when the Gods created him for you. He says that you must rescue the Prince.”
Curious. She wondered idly if he would leave her if she refused.
“Without a doubt,” Conall answered even though she had not been asking. “He says that if you will not do this, he must find someone who will.”
“Then I guess that I must. It would grieve me to lose him now.”
“And he you.”
She turned to Trace and said, “They agree with you, it would seem that you must now ‘love me forever’ dearest brother.”
“You must not go back into that room,” Conall ordered. “I cannot stand to have you out of reach. I don’t know what this is… I have never depended on anybody before, but when you’ve been lonely for as long as I have been…” He paused. “I got desperate at the thought of being lonely again.” He thrust his head into the palm of her hand.
She fondly rubbed behind his ears. “Then I'll make you this promise, only if it’s life or death will I hide behind shields again, when I'm out of your sight. I brought you supper.” She reached into her pack and drew out the bag of scraps. “Knowing you’re human, this seems insufficient fare.”
“Far better than I have had in hundreds of years.” 
“It’s late and I believe Trace will have me up before dawn again tomorrow so I must get some sleep.”
With that thought she laid out his supper and mounted Angel. Trace swung into his saddle and together they rode back to the inn.
Once the horses were stabled they went to the room. Trace grabbed her up and swung her around in a circle. “Thank you,” he said excitedly, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Don’t thank me,” she told him, “Angel made the decision.” 
That stopped him.
“Angel? I thought it would be Conall.”
“Oh, he thought the same way, but Angel threatened to leave me if I didn’t accept Captain Torel’s assignment.”
Trace looked curious, then gave it up. “I’m not even going to pretend I understand the company you keep, but thank him for me anyway. You have no idea how badly I wanted to become a King’s Guard. I would welcome the chance to go on this assignment with you.”
With a peculiar look she told him, “Be careful what you wish for.” She didn’t know why she said it, but it seemed she already knew that this was exactly Torel’s plan.







Chapter 28




The following morning they were up again before dawn and Trace led the way to the mess hall. This morning, the sound coming from within was subdued, unlike yesterday when it had been a boisterous crowd of young men and women. The reason for the change in atmosphere was obvious when they walked through the front door. 
Pacing back and forth like a caged cat just inside the door was Captain Torel. When he saw them he pounced, “Why did you go outside the city last night?”
Had he followed them? If so, what had he seen? Surely Conall would have sensed him. “I didn’t realize it wasn’t allowed,” she said, her outward appearance calm. Her mind racing.
They were the center of attention, people were still eating, but it was methodical. All ears were on the conversation taking place at the door.
“Who did you go out to meet?” he demanded.
Good, that meant he hadn’t followed closely enough to see Conall. “My weapons' instructor if you must know,” she retorted, angered by his prying. “How do you even know that we left?”
“I had Baltor tag you as you left HQ. Surely you didn’t think I’d let you roam without a tracer with what had just been discussed.” Silence reigned in the mess hall; shock appeared on some faces.
Trace spoke up indignantly “It is unethical to tag your own troops sir.”
“At that time you were not my troops, were you?” He glowered at the regular army soldiers who sat judging his actions. As the Prince’s gaze fell upon them, the other troops began eating, desperate not to be noticed. Trace and Bella were on their own and no amount of indignation would help their cause.
“Why would you even propose what you did if you didn’t feel you could trust us for a single night?” Bella asked—the very poised voice of reason. Then she noticed what he had said and realized that their privacy had been thoroughly violated.
She turned around and stalked out the door, unwilling to continue the argument any further in front of the others. The Prince followed her closely and Trace paced just behind.
She rounded on Torel, “Are we still tagged? Is that how you knew when we’d be here? You said we weren’t your troops when you had us tagged, but you know which way we decided, don’t you? Did you even listen to our conversations?”
“I warned you yesterday that it was not safe to talk at the inn. And no, you're not still tagged. I have been pacing here the last half hour, you have no idea how many recruits left hungry in their hurry to get away.” He looked from Bella to Trace and back again. “Tell me who Angel is. It seems I have him to thank for your decision, and what was the other name...Conall. Why would you consult them on this decision, especially when you were told not to discuss it outside the sealed room?”
Bella was torn between scowling and smiling. “The simple answer is, they are my traveling companions—my friends.” Then she looked him square in the eye and said, “They are my horse and my dog, and the conversation could not possibly have been overheard.”
He stopped, momentarily speechless, then he shook his head and laughed—loudly, “I'll admit that you have an unnatural connection with your horse, but I must meet this dog.”
The sound of his laughter must have reached inside because suddenly the spell of silence was broken. Normal volume returned. 
“I’m afraid that will be quite impossible,” she said.
Torel frowned, but his eyes still twinkled with laughter. “Let me guess. He stays with your weapons' instructor who will not consent to meet with me.”
With a straight face she told him, “Close, but not quite. You see, he is my weapons' instructor.”
Torel shook his head, smiling. “Enough. You will be perfect for this assignment. It is as though the Gods themselves sent you to me just now.”
Thinking back to Angel’s response last night, she began to wonder how far off that was.
“You and your brother will not be good for my reputation. Most of the troops fear me, if for no other reason than who I am. They have seen you land first strike with swords and now you have talked back to me in front of others. I would appreciate it if you would walk back in there looking properly chastised.”
Then he raised his voice and said angrily, “Report to me as soon as you're done eating, and don’t be long about it.” With a smile he turned on his heel and left.
When they reentered the mess hall they drew many curious stares. A goodly number of people rose from their seats, as though they had been waiting for the way to be clear to escape. With sympathetic looks at Trace’s defeated expression, they dashed for safety, not wanting to be around if Captain Torel should return.
Shortly, attention turned to more mundane matters than who had managed to cross the Prince and they were allowed to eat their meal in peace. As soon as they finished, they headed for HQ. 
Captain Torel was there, waiting, as was Captain Farren. It would seem Captain Farren had not felt the need to spy on them. Nor had Captain Torel enlightened him. When they walked through the door Farren looked up expectantly. “Shall we go to the back?” he asked.
“No,” Bella said emphatically.  “I promised someone last night that I would not go back to that room unless it was life or death.”
Captain Farren looked at her as though she’d lost her mind, but from his seat behind the desk, Captain Torel drawled with a lazy smile, “Well darlin’, would that have been the dog or the horse?”
“The dog,” Bella said, returning his smile.
Noting the easy camaraderie Captain Farren realized the decision had been made and not in his favor. “Very well then, I have troops awaiting me. Sergeant Gunter, turn in your equipment as soon as possible.” He turned on his heel and left. 
The desk sergeant on duty looked puzzled but when no explanation of the earlier comments was forthcoming he stuck his nose back in his paperwork. Pretending not to notice the three of them until he was called upon to find Trace and Bella’s enlistment contracts. 
When the sergeant returned with both contracts Captain Torel made the necessary changes to Bella‘s, officially assigning her to the Guard, he read over Trace’s contract and made changes to it also. The sergeant signed as witness to these changes.
Captain Torel looked at Trace and said, “Sergeant Gunter, get your old issue and get down to supply. Take Corporal Gunter with you and both of you draw Guard issue. Return that nag you signed for, and report to the Guard stables. I’ll leave orders that you’re to be assigned a permanent mount—you will be responsible for his care. Corporal, bring your horse with you he’ll be stabled with the rest of the Guard mounts from now on. Give any special orders concerning him to Stefan the sergeant in charge of the stables. Then find your grandfather and report to me at the Guard HQ.”
Trace turned promptly. After two years he was used to following orders. Bella was a little slower but took her cue from him. 

#

They returned to the inn where Trace collected all the belongings he had brought with him. All of it belonged to the regular army. They went downstairs and left a message with the innkeeper that if Johann returned, he was to meet them at the Guard HQ. They got their horses from the inn stable and returned the small bay gelding to the army stables, Bella left the hackamore there as well. She did not put a lead on Angel but allowed him to trail beside her as  they made their way to supply.
They stood forever, waiting for somebody to help them. After being ignored quite long enough Trace spoke sharply to a soldier sitting behind the desk. “We need some help here, Corporal.”
“Sorry Sergeant,” came the smug reply. “Supply Sergeant has to issue gear, he just stepped out.”
“Perhaps you’d care to explain to Captain Torel why it wasn’t possible for his two new Guards to report on time because the only man who can issue anything seems to be permanently out of the office.”
Like magic, not only one, but two sergeants appeared from behind stacks of gear. The corporal sprang to his feet and brought them all the necessary forms, accepted Trace’s old gear without even inspecting it and in no time they had their uniforms, mail, and weapons, and were out the door.
“I could get used to this,” Trace told her with a smile. They headed for the Guard stables. All the Guard buildings were within the palisade, inside the second gate. 
On their way from supply, they paused at the inn long enough to check if Johann had come in. The innkeeper informed them he had, so they hurried to the stables. Stefan issued Trace a handsome buckskin gelding. Bella carefully wrote down instructions regarding Angel and posted them on his stall. 
Then they were off to the Headquarters of the King’s Guard.
Captain Torel was waiting for them, talking with Johann in the back room. His soldiers seemed much more at ease with him than the Regular Army personnel. The respect was still there, but the fear was lacking. 
When Trace and Bella walked through the door, the desk sergeant stood at attention and announced them, “Sir, Sergeant and Corporal Gunter at the desk, sir.”
“Send them back, Sergeant,” came the crisp reply.
They walked back through a dark hallway and entered a windowless room. “What kind of trouble have you two been getting into?” Johann asked. “Torel has been quizzing me about your weapons’ instructor since I got here.” With a smile he added, “The good Captain doesn’t seem to believe I’ve never met the person in question. Shame on you Bella, how can you call him a dog when you know he’s so much more.”
“So, you’re trying to tell me he really is a dog?” Torel asked.
Bella laughed.
“Canine anyway,” Johann replied.
That stumped Torel, “I can’t quite decide if you’re all pulling one big joke on me, or if you're feeding me scraps of truth, hidden in a joke. I know your hints and innuendoes are making me crazy. As your Commanding Officer I could order you to tell me, but at this point I wouldn’t know the truth if you beat me over the head with it.”
He considered all of them carefully before continuing. He reached a conclusion in his own mind and Bella saw the lines of concern ease as he accepted the fact he may never know the whole story.
“Anyway, the reason I wanted Johann here, was because I had rather hoped that he knew your instructor well enough to shield a room against eavesdropping, while including whatever link you have to him. It is important we have privacy to discuss your mission.”
“Is that all?” Johann asked. “That I can do.” He looked at Bella and told her, “When I nod at you, concentrate on contacting Conall. Imagine the link as a solid line, a rope if you will.” He closed his eyes in concentration, when he nodded his head, she did as he instructed.  Her connection to Conall became intense; he seemed as startled as she was. She tried to communicate what was going on. The flood of sensation from him was too vivid to communicate with words, but she knew he understood as well as she did. In her mind a dark haired man appeared, she had the vague impression of familiarity, just before she collapsed on the floor.






Chapter 29




She awoke feeling strange. Conall was with her as he never had been before.
“The shield is in place,” she heard Johann say, and it vibrated through her mind as though she were hearing everything twice. Opening her eyes, she saw Trace kneeling on one side of her and Captain Torel on the other. Johann stood looking down at her.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I think so,” she answered him, “Oh Gods, it feels like he’s physically inside my head.”
“Captain,” Johann said, “Might I please have a moment with my granddaughter?”
“Certainly,” with a concerned look, Torel left them alone.
“Bella,” Johann said, “You’ve got to fix this, I can’t. Concentrate on turning that rope into a string, from the strength of your connection a line of spider web is likely all you need. Build a shield around the connection and squeeze it down until you can function.”
She did as he instructed and the flood of sensation shrank. When color started returning to her face, he said, “Don’t worry, you’ll only have to shield when you’re in this room. Building a shield around a link intensifies it. I didn’t realize the link had become that strong or I would have warned you.”
“Gods, I have a headache. It felt like he was right here with me, occupying the same body. It was overwhelming.”
“Likewise,” she heard a rather groggy mental voice. “Bellana, who did you think of just before we passed out? He seemed familiar.”
“I thought he came from your mind. I agree he looked familiar.”
Johann went to the door and opened it. He called Captain Torel back in.
“Is she all right?” Torel asked as he walked through the door.
“She’ll be fine. Shouldn’t be anymore than a headache,” Johann told him.
Bella gave him a wan smile.
“Will you be able to sit through this briefing? I need your complete attention.”
“Do you mind if I take ten minutes to go get some willow bark tea.”
“No, go right ahead.”
She walked to the stable. She didn’t search through the belongings they had left in front of the stalls; she went instead to see Angel. This headache was magical in nature, she hoped he could help. 
She went in the airy box stall and stood beside him. He understood the problem immediately. His soft muzzle touched her forehead and the pain was gone. In its place the image of the dark haired man was stronger and clearer.
Captain Torel looked up, not at all surprised when she returned full of energy. Gray eyes contemplated her as she walked in the office. His square jaw clenched, then relaxed. “That’s some fast acting tea,” was his only comment. 
Johann smiled knowingly. “You’re all set now,” he said to Captain Torel. “I’ll take my leave then.”
“Thank you, Johann.”
No sooner was Johann out the door than Captain Torel turned to Bella and said, “Now, since we’re all here, I’ve got to admit, you seem to be something of an enigma to me. Trace, seems to be fairly straightforward. Bella, I don’t know what to think of you. Somehow I know you're the right one for the job, but you present so many unknowns.”
His shoulders heaved, looking like he was trying to shift some heavy weight. “I wish I could just accept as truth that your instructor is not a danger. But after watching you pass out, I’m not sure I believe that.”
“That was not his fault, he passed out too,” she defended Conall. “The problem was an underestimation of the link. It’s been handled.”
“Then there’s that. How was it handled? Johann said you had to maintain the link. Seems to me that’s magic, and how did you damp it down? I’d guess a shield. I’m not ignorant of magic. Oh, and nobody can possibly brew willow bark tea and come back looking that vibrant in less than ten minutes, even if you had it brewed and waiting, it doesn’t even work that fast. Care to comment on any of this? Keeping in mind you promised me the truth.”
She wanted to. He already knew she had magic. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone except Baltor, the blue robed wizard, so she had to assume he had reasons of his own. The truth would make life so much easier. But where to start?
“May I tell him about you?” she asked Conall.
“I suppose you might as well,” came the reply. “He is persistent.”
“Very well then,” she said, startling Trace and Torel. “Conall says to get it over with.”
Torel looked at her expectantly. Perhaps with a bit of suspicion about the easy capitulation.
“As I said, I met him on the same day I met Dylan. 
“Dylan’s son had been grievously injured and Sergeant Marner was taking him to see a Healer. The boy would not have made it. By coincidence the Healer he was taking him to had just finished training me.”
Torel raised an eyebrow, “ HEALER or healer? Magic or herbs?”
Bella looked at him with annoyance. She saw no reason to pretend any longer that she had no magic or that he didn’t already know about it. Flippantly she said, “As if you didn’t already know.”
His jaw hung open.
She looked at him with second-sight and was surprised to find a strong sapphire blue energy emanating from him. “Honestly Captain, are you telling me that you can’t feel me search you?” When he didn’t respond, she said, “I can. I felt you search me. Why do you think you ran into my shields? So I guess we each know a bit more about the other now. I also know that you did not go running directly to the Wizard Corps with your knowledge, so I’m guessing you need me as I am. As to your question… Let’s just say the boys brain was bruised and swelling, his arm was broken and his chest crushed, by the next day he was riding home without a care in the world.”
Torel just nodded.
“That morning, as I sat watch, Angel alerted to an intruder, something or somebody was approaching. I heard a voice in my head asking if the boy had died.” She smiled, “He was quite disappointed that I saved him.”
Raising a hand, Bella forestalled any questions as she went on to tell how Conall had waited for them at Dylan’s, then joined them when they once again started traveling. She told Torel of the curse and everything they had so far, figured out about him.
“He has lost himself to time and loneliness, when he taught me swordsmanship he did not know the skills he taught me were those used by the King's Guard. When he lost me the other day in the shielded room he panicked thinking himself alone again,” she finished. 
Torel was nodding his head, “As impossible as that tale sounds, from everything I’ve seen and learned in the past couple of days I don’t have much choice but to believe you. I guess one question I have to ask is, why didn't you enlist as a witch? It’s your choice, and I won‘t tell anyone, because frankly you’re right, you do me much more good, directly within my ranks, but why?”
“That was Johann’s advice, and it was sound. I don’t want to be ordered to use my magic to take life. I don’t think I’d do well under the rules of the Wizards’ Corps.”
Again he was nodding his head. “And that would be why you didn’t use your magic to Heal the prisoner we have in the dungeon?”
“It is the reason I did not finish the job with magic. Simply keeping him away from Karnac’s realm nearly killed me, the day before I stitched up his side.”
Torel looked thoughtful, “If he was close to death, that would explain his madness.”
“I'm sorry, I could not save his mind. He seemed fine, when we left.”
 Fingers drummed the heavy oak desk. “As loath as I am to hear that, everything you have told me thus far has felt like the truth.  I'm even more convinced, if anybody can accomplish this mission it is you. But you must realize the Guard has a very strict code of discipline, and you will be expected to fall into that routine of discipline while you are here within the palace compound.”
When she nodded her acceptance of that fact, he continued, spelling out exactly what her future would be. “I plan to send you into the Court of Telgar. It would hardly be plausible that an unattached female, as young as you are, would show up unescorted. You’ll be the third daughter of a small landholder, from the northwestern part of the country, sent to the Court by your father to find a husband. He cannot support all his children so he hopes you’ll be able to find a match at Court, since there are few eligible men in your region.” 
Torel stood and began pacing as he talked. “The northwest is sparsely populated so this should be accepted without too many questions. We have people here who will coach you in the customs of Telgar, and others to teach you Court manners and etiquette.”
He looked at Trace with a smile, “You’ll be undergoing the same training. Who better to escort a fair young virtuous lady to Court, than her gallant older brother. You two already have some experience with the role of brother and sister. Having done the math and added it all up, I don’t believe for a second, that you even met each other more than a week ago, but you nearly had us fooled.”
Bella and Trace had the decency to blush
“You do both know Johann, and on that common ground we will build your doting father’s character.” 
Smiling at their discomfiture, he launched back into the cover story. “Your father wants only the best for his children. His beloved youngest son and daughter will have a chance at a much better life than they would have on the family holding with two older sisters and three older brothers. Your family raises horses and crops. We will build more on that in the future. You Bella, will be a disappointment to your brother because you become interested in one of the guards instead of a highborn noble’s son. You’ll have to select the guard once you’re at Court.” 
Torel stopped to make sure there were no questions. Grey eyes glancing between the two soldiers standing in front of him. “You want to get close to one of King Thale’s personal guards, somebody who’s important enough to know where Lorun is being held.” He raised a hand, silencing the questions she was about to ask. “Don’t do anything you’re not comfortable with. Remember your brother will be there for your protection. At a minimum, we need to find out if Lorun is still there and alive after all this time. We obviously can’t plan out every step of this mission. There are too many variables involved, and plans tend to last only until you're on enemy soil.”
He sat down at his desk, shuffled through some papers and pulled two of them out. He read over them and handed one to each of them. They were orders confining them to the inner circle of Relante. They were not to go beyond the first gate, and public parts of the palace were off limits as well. 
“You will spend the winter here, preparing. It has already been two years and as Trace knows, I’m sure, it is already winter in Telgar. You will need to come in from the northwest in keeping with your story so you will spend the next three months here, learning all you need to know. If you leave in the springtime here, it will be thawing by the time you go through the mountains up north.”
Bella would not be put off this time. Her voice quavered as she asked, “Up north? The Rortags? You want us to ride through the Rortags? You don’t mean for us to go around them on the eastern end, do you?” Her voice took on a note of hysteria as she remembered the tales of the drunken miner in Trell, and Neeran’s close brush with the Earth Shaker.
“Unless you have a better plan to come into the capital of Telgar from the direction of the unpopulated northwest, yes Corporal, that is exactly what I'm talking about.”
“But…”
“Corporal.” Torel’s tone was warning. He would not accept argument.
She snapped her jaw shut. Her mind sought Conall’s. He offered her comfort. “I have lived there for two hundred years. I know of the Earth Shaker. I'm skilled at avoiding it.”
“And what of the other monsters they claimed lived there.”
With a harumph, Conall said, “The wolf would be me. He exaggerated of course. There are none larger, living in the Rortags. I remember your miner. I thought he might be the one to kill me. Three years ago I presented him with a perfect target and his arrow did hit me. It did not kill me. Nothing can.” The last was accompanied by a sigh. With a slightly more cheerful tone he thought, “Now that I’ve met you, perhaps that is a good thing. Other creatures do appear in the mountains occasionally, they disappear as rapidly as they appear and none has ever seemed particularly dangerous to me. Peculiar but not dangerous.”
Torel slammed a book down on his desk and was glaring at her when she brought her mind back to the business at hand. He pointed to the orders in their hands. “While you’re here, I want you both to stay as invisible as possible. Weapons’ practice will be held on the Guard’s indoor ranges. I will be in charge of your training, unless your friend can be convinced to come within the city limits, and workout with you. Your meals will be taken in the Guard mess hall.” His tone gentled again, now that he had her undivided attention. “I’ll select some young ladies from the Court to train you, Bella, in how to present yourself. I'll train Trace, myself. We know there are Telgarn spies within our Court, just as we have spies within their Court, it would be unfortunate if somebody recognized you while you were there.”
“If we have spies there already why not just use them?” Bella asked.
Torel turned a grim smile on Trace. “I’m sure your brother can tell you, we rarely get people in the circles that would give us any information such as we need now. As you can stay away from the sight of their spies by staying away from the public areas, most important information can also be hidden. Any attempt to intrude beyond what is allowed to the public would alert the Guards. Jasper got his information more by luck than skill. He happened to overhear two nobles talking at an inn. The information is sketchy at best.”
Bella‘s head turned as though she were seeing through the wall. She looked toward the hills where Conall waited.
“What now Corporal?” Torel asked. He sounded as though he may already be regretting his decision to enlist her.
“I cannot leave Conall in the woods by himself all winter long. Who will bring him food? And he longs for conversation. Just now I think I could talk to him from twenty miles away, but he is my friend and I can’t just leave him out there. Angel will need exercise as well.”
Looking from Bella‘s face to the point on the wall where she stared, Torel said, “Angel is the easy one. The Guard has an exclusive indoor riding area. Conall on the other hand, even if he would consent to come within the walls, I don’t know how we would get him here unseen.”
“I’ll come there, Bellana,” she heard in her mind.
“How?” she asked.
“In the dark I can move nearly unseen. Wait for me tonight, I'll find you. And have supper ready,” he ended laughingly.
Captain Torel was looking at her expectantly. She wondered what she’d missed this time.
When she said nothing, Torel asked, “What did he say? Come now, surely you didn’t think the Captain of the King’s Guard wouldn’t recognize the trance of mindspeech. And from this room there’s only one mind you could possibly reach. What did he say?”
“He said to have supper ready. I suppose I'll need private quarters.”
Looking unduly excited at the prospect, Torel said, “If I get to meet him you can have any quarters you want. How does he propose to get here? I’ll confess to more than just a little curiosity.” 
“He just said he’d find me. He can be nearly invisible in the dark.”
“The gate guards will see him. The gates are kept well lit.” Without even a pause to consider the possibility that his change of orders would not be accepted by the regular army soldiers, he said, “I'll place my men on the gates tonight, with orders not to see him.”
A brief mind touch and she turned to Torel and said, “He said, thank you, and he would be pleased to meet you.”
A smile lit Torel’s face. He got to his feet and opened the door. “Sergeant,” he called, “get me the next four soldiers on the duty roster, have them report at once.”
“Yes sir!” the answer snapped back at them. 
Faster than seemed logistically possible, two sergeants, and two corporals were standing in front of him.
“I want you men on the gates tonight. You will patrol, not just man the shack. I don’t want anybody loitering anywhere near the gates. I'm expecting a four-legged visitor tonight. You will neither see him, nor run in terror when he passes through the gate. Understood?”
“Understood, Sir!” Four voices sounded off in unison. No question touched their tone.
“Tell the desk to write up orders for you to relieve the regular guards. Dismissed.”
As one, the duty personnel turned and left.
Turning back to Bella and Trace, Torel asked, “Well, let’s see about getting you two some quarters. Would you like to be together or separate? After all you are brother and sister.”
They looked at each other uncertainly. With that lie exposed it didn’t seem right to sleep in the same room.
“Separate,” they said at the same time.
“Report to the barracks, Sergeant. Tell the CQ to find you a bunk.”
“Yes sir,” Trace saluted and left, turning smartly on his heel.
When Trace was gone, Bella asked, “CQ?”
“That is the duty person in Charge of Quarters. I guess there’s a lot we need to teach you. Come with me.”
He led her to a small cottage near the end of a row of identical buildings. “These Quarters are for  higher ranking and married, enlisted personnel and our officers. The second one there is empty. Go get your gear and put it up. I’ll meet you back here in one hour.” 










Chapter 30





Bella went to the stables to get the gear she had been issued and the few personal belongings she’d collected since she began traveling with Johann. She pulled a carrot from her pack and fed it to Angel, asking him, “What have you gotten me into?” He radiated love and caring, soothing her fears. After throwing him some hay, and topping off his water, she brushed him down. Then she picked up the gear and headed back toward the cottages. 
She passed Trace on his way to the stables. He stopped her and asked, “Can I still call you Sis? Some of these guys want me to introduce them, and we do have the same last name. It might be good if they think I’m here to protect your virtue.”
Smiling she said, “I'll have protection, don’t forget, Conall is coming in tonight. But I would very much like you to remain my brother, and protect my virtue.” She smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”
With a faint blush, he turned rapidly to the stables. She hadn’t considered the possibility he would be embarrassed if she kissed him. She caught a stray flare of emotion from Conall, strong, but quickly muffled as though he didn’t want her to notice it.
Passing the barracks she caught the stares of several young men. At that moment, Captain Torel stepped out of the first cottage carrying an armload of books. He scowled at the men staring at her and they suddenly all found things to do, even if it was just staring fixedly at the ground.
He walked over to her cottage and followed her in. “Don’t lead them on,” he said as soon as the door was closed. “They are very good soldiers, but they are only men. You will make certain they realize you are not interested.”
“Is that an order, Sir?” she asked. He had not yet raised his voice to her and his attitude confused her. She hadn’t done anything wrong.
“Yes Corporal, it is. The task of maintaining discipline within my ranks falls to me, and you could easily destroy that. I don’t care if you tell them you’re engaged to a boy back home or that you prefer the company of women, but you will make it clear to them, that you aren’t interested. Do I make myself clearly understood?”
“Yes, Sir!” she replied in a very good imitation of every other soldier she had seen answer one of his questions.
“Very good, Corporal,” he said and then the glowering Captain was gone and Torel was back. “Since I'm forcing you to become a recluse, and you won’t be permitted to participate in a basic training program with the Regular Army, I’ve brought you a little light reading. If you’re having trouble sleeping, these will help. Most of them are rather boring, but you might want to start with the one on top, it will explain general military terms and acronyms. Once you have that figured out, you might want to try the one on rules and regulations, although you will learn those rapidly in my unit. Here’s one book you may find interesting,” he said as he shuffled through the books. He pulled one out bound in worn leather with the gilded title History Of The King’s Guard. “When you’re through with them I’d appreciate it if you’d return them, they’re my personal copies.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She saluted him in what she hoped was a reasonably good imitation of all the other salutes she’d seen in the last couple of days. But he walked over to her, folded two fingers down tighter and turned her hand a bit. 
“Sloppy, Corporal. Work on that, and notify me when your visitor arrives. I’m right next-door. I’ve assigned a female sergeant to show you around, she’ll be here shortly.”
“Can’t Trace show me around?”
“And who will show him? This is not the Army he knew. Don’t worry, you’ll like Sergeant Alva.” And with that he left her alone to settle into her new home.
The cottage could best be described as Spartan. Nothing adorned the walls, nor was there evidence that anything ever had. The windows were covered with heavy, eggshell colored drapes. There was a bed with linen sheets and a blanket that matched the color of the drapes, neatly folded on the end of it. She placed the mail, shield, sword and helm she had been issued in a plain cedar chest at the foot of the bed. The black and gold Guard uniforms she hung carefully in the pine armoire, which occupied one corner. Her undergarments, including the padding that went under the mail, she folded and placed in the top drawer of the dresser by the wall. Her personal clothes went into the middle drawer and her personal weapons in the bottom. There was a washbasin—that also matched the eggshell color of the drapes—in the corner, but there was no bucket to carry water. Well, she supposed Sergeant Alva would show her that.
She took one of the uniforms back out of the armoire and put it on. The material was sturdy but soft. The trousers were black with gold piping down the sides they were a little long and loose, they had been the smallest supply had. The tunic was long sleeved with gold braid on the shoulders, a golden unicorn emblazoned on the back. The tunic was also large, a bit broad through the shoulders, the sleeves covered her fingertips and it fell nearly to her knees.
With a sigh she started digging for her thread and needle. Just as she found it, a knock came at her door. The woman standing in the doorway was tall and bronze with close-cropped black hair and weather-roughened skin. Not a beauty—plain in fact—but her face was friendly and open. Her uniform was immaculate, with creases in the trousers and not a speck of dirt to be seen, even on the boots. 
“Corporal Gunter?”
At Bella’s nod, she continued, “I’m here to show you around. My name is Sergeant Alva but you can call me Robin.”
This went counter to the little, Trace had told her about military traditions and formality. Her thoughts must have showed on her face because Robin continued, “Unless we’re on duty at the palace or in training, we don’t stand much on the formality of rank. Don’t get me wrong, if a sergeant orders you to jump, the correct response is, ‘How high, Sergeant?’ and then you will endeavor to perform as well as you might. But the Guard is closely knit, we’re all friends.”
Bella, stretched out a hand that was accepted warmly, and introduced herself.
“Captain Torel told me you won’t be doing basic and I’m to help you as much as possible.” She took a long look at Bella then shook her head. “First stop is the seamstress to get those fitted. You look like you’re playing soldier in your big brother’s gear. How did a little bitty thing like you ever get first strike on our Captain while sparring?”
Bella blushed and said, “I think he let me.”
“Never, girl.” Sergeant Alva’s husky laugh, was more of a snort than a downright guffaw but the humor was there. “If there’s one thing you’ll learn about the Captain it’s that he plays to win. I call it playing now, but when I was first assigned to the Guard, I’d been RA, that’s Regular Army, ten years, and his fun and games like to wore me out. Trust me, you stung his pride the other morning.”
When Bella declaimed, “It was only luck.” Robin shook her head in disbelief. 
“You believe what you want then. Grab those other uniforms, let’s move.”
Bella rolled up the sleeves of the tunic she was wearing, then took down all the uniforms she’d just hung. There were six tunics, two long sleeve, and two sleeveless dress uniforms plus two solid black sleeveless work uniforms, and a pair of trousers for each tunic. She was wearing one of the long sleeved tunics.
“Leave the solid tunics, “Robin told her, “When the Captain, or the Weaponsmaster is chasing you around the salle you’ll want those loose enough to move in.”
Captain Torel was in front of his quarters as they left, speaking to two older sergeants. One of them had twenty-five year marks sewn on the side of his sleeve, Robin whispered and pointed, “That’s First Sergeant Corwin.” The other had only fourteen year marks but he looked very much the battle hardened veteran. A scar running from the corner of his right eye, back through his hair to where the lobe of his ear used to be, made him frightening to look at. He carried himself with an air of graceful competence. With a nudge, Robin added, “The weapons instructor, Master Manlin. He prefers to be called, Weaponsmaster.”
Torel stopped them and with a nod said, “Sergeant Alva. Corporal Gunter. On your way to the seamstress I see. Please give this to her,” and he handed Robin a sealed letter. “Tell her she’ll be paid from the Guard treasury.”
“Yes, Sir!” Robin snapped a salute and Bella followed suit. A shake of Torel’s head as he returned the salute told her she still needed work.
They went into the palace and in a small room on the ground floor was the seamstress’s shop.
Bella found herself surrounded by bolts of cloth of every color and type imaginable, from the finest silks to a coarse brown material she had only seen used in feed sacks. Bolts of black material, of the same quality as her new uniforms, took up an entire corner of the room. That told Bella who one of the seamstress’s largest customers was.
A small woman with silver hair looked up from where she was hemming the skirt of a beautiful emerald dress, when they entered the room. One look at the ill fitting uniform told her why they were here.
 “Sellene,” she called brusquely towards the door of a second room. A girl of about twelve, popped out in response to the summons. 
“Yes, Grandmamma?” she questioned.
“Measure this young Guardsman for alterations.”
Robin pulled out the letter from Captain Torel and handed it to Sellene. She broke the seal, scanned the contents of the letter and turned to her grandmother, looking confused.
“Grandmamma, this is from the Captain Prince, he says we’re to make four dresses for her as well. Two in the style of our Court and two in whatever is the current fashion in Telgar. How are we to know that?”
“I will have to look into it. Does he say when they’re to be ready?”
“The two for our Court he says you're to drop all other work to complete as soon as possible. The other two he does not need until spring.”
“Very well, take her measurements and find a color that will go with that hair and those brown eyes.” The old woman’s sharp gaze focused on Bella. “You’re not from around here, are you?” She asked, and then answered herself in the same breath, “No, no, not from Telgar either.” She paused briefly for Bella to acknowledge she was correct, then continued, “Burgundy, start with burgundy.” Then with a disgusted shake of her head and a glance around the room she said, “Of course, these days they’re all wearing bright colors whether they look good in them or not.” She held up a skirt from the dress she was working on. “This color for one of them, and maybe yellow or scarlet. What are you waiting for, get on with it girl,” she turned back to her work, dismissing them as though they’d never walked through her door.
The next hour and a half were exciting for Bella. She had never owned new clothes in her life. Even when her father had been alive her clothes had been second hand from the merchants’ daughters. To be able to pick the color and material of new dresses was beyond the dreams of a slave, yet here she stood.
Robin had a very good eye for color and while Bella preferred the burgundy that the seamstress had recommended first, both Robin and Sellene assured her it was not what young ladies were wearing these days. She ended with an emerald green as Mistress Senta suggested, and a bright pink with vertical pinstripes of burgundy.
She couldn’t quite stand still while the girl measured her. Several measurements had to be taken more than once.
When Sellene had everything she needed, Robin led her on a tour of the lower level of the palace, which in this area consisted of many small shops. 
From what Bella could see, most of them were kept in business by the Guard.
They left the palace and went to the mess hall. This one was very much like the one for the RA but only one quarter the size.
“All the Guard are expected to take their meals here, we all get to pull duty here too,” Robin informed her.
“What type of duty?”
“You name it. Anything Master Rull needs, from serving food, to washing dishes.” She made a face at the last.
“I don’t mind washing dishes—I used to do plenty of that. Especially when the Mistress threw a party. I’d wash dishes, set the tables, clear them afterward, serve food and anything the cook might need help with.”
“Rull will love you. Let me introduce you to him.”  They went back in the kitchen where a tall, portly, middle-aged man with black hair was trying to organize the evening meal.
His eyes lit when he saw Robin. “Ah, my favorite dish washer.”
Robin smiled at him and shook her head, “Not tonight Rull. I just wanted to introduce you to Bella. You may find her more useful than the rest of us—she used to be a servant in a large household.”
The man’s eyes lit up. “It is a great pleasure to meet you. Most of these young people don’t have the slightest idea how to do anything in the kitchen, or at least they won’t admit to it. I look forward to seeing you here. Now I must go knock some heads before all my food is ruined and dishes broken.”
With that he scuttled off to bring order to his domain, brandishing a wooden spoon.
Robin led her back outside and they walked to Bella’s cottage. As they passed a long low building, Robin pointed to it and said, “Those are the showers.” Then her finger swung to another building. “Those are the barracks, females on that end, males opposite.” She looked at Bella with a curious smile, “So how did you talk the Captain into giving you a cottage? It’s not like the female barracks are overcrowded.”
How to put this… She could feel Conall waiting to hear her explanation. What was he waiting for? “I’m expecting a companion, who will be staying with me. He doesn’t exactly socialize much, but the Captain wanted to meet him.” She felt disappointment from Conall. What had he wanted?
“Friend.” She heard clearly, “I’d hoped you’d call me, friend.”
“So there is a male friend then.” Robin’s eyebrows arched expectantly waiting for more gossip she could pass on later. “Don’t make me pull it out of you, we Guards don’t have secrets from each other.”
“Well he is male, and he is a friend,” Bella agreed, smiling at Conall’s happiness.
“How old is he? Where’s he from? What’s his name? Is he also a Guard? Let’s have it girl.”
“Let’s see,” Bella bit her upper lip considering how to tell Robin about Conall, ultimately deciding to keep it light and vague. “Age; much older than I am. Last residence; the mountains north of Trell. Name; Conall, unless he remembers his real name, and also a Guard… well he used to be.” 
Conall snorted laughter. “That’ll teach her to be nosy.”
“Let’s just get the rest of the questions out of the way. Hair color? Tan and silver. Lover? One great mental connection but not much else. Build? Tall and lean, an excellent example of his species. Have I missed anything? Oh, eye color? Gray.”
“Sorry I asked,” Robin said laughingly. “Will we get to meet him?”
“That would be entirely up to him. He’s been something of a recluse.”
“Don’t think I didn’t catch the odd responses, but I’ll let it go for now.”
Bella opened the door to her cottage. “Here we are, home sweet home.” 
“There’s a pump out behind the fifth cottage. You can fill the wash basin and we’ll clean up, then go eat,” Robin told her. 
In her absence a bucket and towels had been placed inside. She carried the bucket to where Robin had indicated the pump was, filled it, and returned to find Robin paging through the manuals Captain Torel had left. 
She looked up, “Well I guess you won’t have any problem drifting off at night. How nice of the Captain to loan you his own personal sleeping remedies. It was bad enough sitting through classes on this stuff. I couldn’t imagine trying to read it. If you like, I can help you learn it so you don’t have to read the manuals.”
As she emptied the water into the washbasin, Bella said, “I may just take you up on that. There’s one in there I’d like to go through. Torel said, History Of the Guard, may be worth reading.”
Robin looked sympathetic, “It’s still a text book, dry as a bone. Come over to the barracks and we can fill you in on history. In fact Bethany, Sergeant Nunia, is a history buff. She knows the text inside and out and can lighten it up with some knowledge of the personalities behind the deeds. All she ever does when she’s off duty is study. If you’re interested in history you two will get along great.”
Bella threw a towel to Robin and they washed up. “Did you need to stop at the barracks on our way to the mess hall?” Bella asked.
“I’d like to stop and see if Eleyn has already gone.”
“Great.”
The sun was setting when they left for the mess hall. Bella felt anxiety settling on her like a cloak, and she wondered if the anxiety was hers or Conall’s.
They went to the barracks. Robin’s friend was still getting ready. As they waited for her to put her hair up, Bella looked around the room she was in. It was one long open bay with a low ceiling. Beds lined the walls. A chest sat at the foot of every bed, and a locker with four drawers in the bottom, against the wall. 
The beds were all done up as neatly as Mistress Sarra, Mistress Henna’s head housekeeper, had ever made one. Inwardly Bella groaned. That was one task she had never been able to perform good enough for Mistress Sarra. It looked like she’d have to try again to learn. Tying up a bedroll was so much easier. 
There were a few personal belongings set out on the chests at the end of the beds, but by and large, every bed mirrored every other and by the time they were ready to go, all personal items had been stowed away in either the locker or the chest. No hint of the owner’s personality was to be deciphered from their living space, although some of the lockers had been much more neatly maintained than others, from the brief glimpses she got as doors opened and closed.
There were nearly sixty beds in the barracks but less than half of them had sheets and blankets. Bella wondered if this meant the Guard was not up to strength or if the ranks were just filled instead with men. Surely numbers varied throughout the years.
Noting her glance Robin said, “The last couple of years have not been good for recruiting women in the Army, at least not of the type the Guard requires. There are still plenty in the RA but the Guard requires certain characteristics and values that are not always easy to come by. Numbers fluctuate. This is the lowest we’ve ever been. The Guard is still full strength, but there are so many men, they have bunk beds and share lockers. There’s talk of moving the wall this way if things don’t change soon.”
Conall was in her head surveying the empty bunks. “This is all wrong. Torel must keep it balanced.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know…”








Chapter 31




Bella heard him howl in frustration. She knew he was speaking from experience. But he couldn’t quite pull the memory all the way through to know why it was important.
“Don’t get me wrong, the women in the RA are fantastic soldiers, most of them excel above their male comrades in drill and ceremony and archery but Torel requires more than that.” Robin waved to the female soldiers walking out the door. “He requires complete, unquestioning obedience to him, and devotion to King Lorth above all else. You must be willing to lay down your life to protect the King without a second’s hesitation. That second could mean the difference between life and death to the King.”
Bella received a sense of rightness from Conall as she heard these words. This at least was the same for Conall. A feeling of intense loyalty to the King pervaded her soul. She knew the feelings were not hers, but they were invasive and they spilled over into her mind.
“You're the first lower ranking enlisted person to occupy a cottage since Torel took command. He sees relationships, like marriage and children, to be a division in a soldier’s personal commitment. As far as he’s concerned it’s fine in the RA, but he doesn’t want a husband, wife, or child to be the foremost thought in anybody’s head when the King’s safety is at stake.”
“That would explain the order he gave me earlier,” Bella said quietly.
“What order would that be?”
“That I was to discourage the interest the men were showing when I first got here.”
Robin’s eyes opened wide. “There are limits to his power and that would be way over the top of those limits. His general policy is, fraternization is fine—he just doesn’t want any major commitments.  We tend to have the reputation of being fast and loose, hardly virginal angels.” She laughed, “That’s one order you don’t have to obey. I can’t figure why he’d have said it to you, but I know he can’t enforce it.”
“That’s interesting to know, but for reasons having nothing to do with his order, loose and fast is not on my schedule.” Bella could see curiosity cross Robin’s face.
“Boy back home? That falls under the heading of long term commitment.”
“No, not that.”
“Your companion you’re expecting tonight?”
“More of a promise I made to my father when I was only six years old. Just before he left on his final voyage he pulled me aside.” Bella sank into the trance of memory that always fell upon her when she contemplated her father. She remembered him so clearly; he never faded in her thoughts. “I don’t remember anything else from when I was that young with the clarity I remember this conversation. He told me ‘Bella, you're a very special girl’.”
She felt Conall’s harrumph. “What father wouldn’t say that to his daughter?”
With a smile she ignored him and continued her tale. “In your lifetime many men will desire you.”
 Again the intrusion came, “Who says that to a six year old?”
Mentally she kicked him, threatening to shield against him if he didn’t make himself less intrusive. “It is my memory. I’ll thank you to stay out of it.” Her tone made it clear it was not a request, but an order. 
He withdrew. Looking at Robin, Bella doggedly kept on as though she had not been interrupted, struggling not to let irritation show on her face. “‘You must promise me you will not allow any of them to touch you until you find the man you will marry.’ I was six years old; I’d have promised to have the moon waiting at the dock when he returned if he’d asked. I gave him my word. ‘That’s a good girl,’ he said to me. He picked me up and hugged me like there would be no tomorrow. Somehow he knew he wouldn’t be returning from that voyage and to him, my virtue was the most important thing in the world. When he didn’t return, that promise became my one way of holding onto the man who loved me more than anybody.”
Robin laughed, “Aren’t all our friends on the other side of the wall just going to be disappointed with this news.”
Eleyn put up her belongings and they headed to the mess hall. Over dinner, Robin introduced Bella to the other women sitting at their table. Each woman smiled, stood, and held out a hand in welcome. 
Trace put in an appearance after she’d eaten half her meal. Along with a group of his fellow soldiers, he sat down at a table right behind her.
“How’s it going, Sis?” he asked with a smile. 
“Great,” she returned.
“Any word from your friend yet.”
“I’m not expecting him until early morning, when the city will be the most quiet, but we are already suffering from anxiety.”
“We?”
“”Yes, we,” she sighed. “You know how it is. Alone I wouldn’t have the time to be worried, I’ve been so busy, but… I’m hardly ever alone am I?”
This conversation was carried on in low undertones and the closest to them made a study of not hearing. In louder tones, Trace said, “Let me introduce you to my friends, Bella.” He went around the table. She then introduced the women to him. 
Bella said good night to Trace, as she, Robin and Eleyn walked back to the barracks. Robin accepted Bella’s assurance that she would be fine by herself, and went in the barracks with her friends.
Bella continued on to the stables. She talked gently with Angel while she cleaned his stall and fed him his grain. As she was leaving, the soldier on duty in the stable office said, “He sure is a beautiful animal, Corporal. Wouldn’t mind finding one like him myself. Bit of a temper though. Tried to take my arm off earlier when I was trying to look at him. I didn’t mean anything by it, but I reckon I got too close for his comfort.”
“First of all, Sergeant,” she said, “the chances of you finding a horse like him are slim to none. Second, we didn’t hang a sign warning people away just to hang a sign. And third, if he had tried to take your arm off you would be in the infirmary right now, minus a limb. I'm guessing you have no more of a bruise than Captain Torel is sporting. Bear in mind though, that was only a warning. I’d appreciate it if you’d tell your story to the next person on duty. He’s young and not at all used to people. I’d rather nobody else got injured.”
“I’ll do that,” he said. 
Bella was glad the sergeant didn’t seem to take offense at being dressed down by a corporal. He had read the sign and ignored it. She was annoyed when he proved persistent though.
“Why wouldn’t I be able to get another like him?” he asked. “Surely anybody who raises horses would see the value of repeating the cross when they saw how nicely this fellow turned out.”
“He wasn’t exactly planned by the mare’s owner. She was a plow horse, and his sire wandered through in the night. The farmer that owned the mare never saw him.”
“Too bad. Everybody who passes, admires him from a distance. More than a few have gone close, as far as I know I’m the only idiot to get too close. You wouldn’t be interested in selling him would you?”
She looked at him in disbelief. What kind of fool would want a horse that plainly did not want him? “He’s not mine to sell. It’s more we belong to each other than he belongs to me. Selling him would only get somebody killed. If you haven’t heard the story of Captain Torel’s ride yesterday…” she paused as a snicker let her know, that had already made the gossip rounds. “Just know that Angel was being extremely well mannered towards him.”
“I guess after my experience, I’ll have to take your word on that.”
Bella smiled and walked on, “Good night, Sergeant.”
“Good night, Corporal.”
#
Back in her room, Bella paced; anxiety growing as the night deepened. She knew that somewhere outside the city, Conall matched her step for step. Trying to relax, she picked up one of the texts, but as Robin had predicted they were dry. Certainly not interesting enough to hold her mind at this particular time. She took her sword and went outside and started running through drills. The physical exercise helped.
She rested between patterns and happened to glance up in time to see a silhouette cross in front of Captain Torel’s window. As she watched, he returned and then crossed back again. She recognized the pacing she herself had been doing only a short time ago. Did he have something else on his mind or was he truly that anxious to meet Conall? Did she dare to interrupt his pacing? If it was caused by anticipation, perhaps they could spar to keep each other’s minds occupied. If he had other things on his mind and was trying to concentrate, he might not welcome the interruption.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she thought to herself.
She knocked gently on his door. When it opened, she said, “Excuse me sir. I couldn’t help but notice you were also pacing. I thought perhaps you’d be interested in some physical exercise to distract your mind, unless of course you need to concentrate.”
Torel scowled at her, “What exactly are you asking me to do Corporal? I’m your Commanding Officer, what sort of exercise are you interested in, in the middle of the night?”
Bella saw where his mind had leapt. Her cheeks burned, a dark crimson flood that seared the skin from her hairline, all the way down her throat. She opened the door the rest of the way so he could see she held her sword. “I’ve been running drills sir,” she mumbled. “You said you would be in charge of my weapons training. I thought if you were pacing for the same reason I was, and not much to do about it, there’s light enough to spar by.
He smiled, “My apologies, Corporal. That sounds like an excellent idea.”
“If you don’t mind my asking sir, why is it you’re so anxious to meet Conall?”
“Several reasons,” he said after having given the question some thought. “Curiosity of course. A wolf who teaches swordsmanship, has got to have a tale worth hearing. But I guess what’s caught my interest is the question of who he used to be.”
As he was talking, he collected up two wooden practice swords and they walked outside.
“It is the Guard’s policy to never leave a man behind. Through the centuries we have lost very few of whom we have not at least recovered the bodies. King first, comrades second, then care for the rest of the world. We have a policy of assigning people as pairs. They know each other so well, facing a pair of Guards is like facing a single person with four arms and two sets of eyes. These pairings are called Swordtwins. Of course in battle from time to time it is impossible to recover the lost, but usually at least their Swordtwin has seen them go down and can report for a fact that they are lost beyond redemption. It has been a long time since a wizard with transformation skills has existed. So I confess, the question regarding who your friend is and who the wizard is that did this to him, is driving me mad.”
“Who he is we don’t know. Johann figured out the wizard was Dorang, from the initial conflict with Telgar. 
“Yes,” Torel murmured introspectively, “that was a black time for the Guard.”
He handed Bella a wooden practice sword and they started to spar. This was not instruction but it served to thoroughly distract them both. He had the longer reach and more experience but she was quicker. They attacked and countered so enthusiastically they lost all track of time. 
Just as Torel attacked, Conall distracted her. Torel had expected her to move away from the thrust with the same graceful ease she had used all night, but the distraction in her head caused her steps to falter and the blow struck her solidly just below the ribs. She fell to her knees gasping for air and in more than a little pain.
Rather than being sympathetic and apologetic as Bella had rather half expected, Torel said, “Shake it off, Corporal, if these had been steel you’d be dying right now. You need to learn to fight whether you’re distracted or not. If your mind suddenly goes elsewhere the movements need to be so natural they're reflex, with or without conscious thought. Let’s have it, what did he say to distract you?”
“He’s just gone through the first gate,” she wheezed. “One of your soldiers saw him. He says the man was startled, but carried out his orders as given, nobody saw anything.”
“He’ll still be at least fifteen minutes, shall we go again?” Torel asked as he held his practice sword up in salute. Feeling her aching ribs Bella hesitated but she joined him at Conall’s urging. They were just getting warmed up again when Conall announced he was through the second gate. This time it didn’t surprise her and she held her own while Torel attacked, then she grunted, “Gate two.” Five minutes later she heard a command in her head saying, “Drive him backwards.” As she pushed the attack, Torel gave ground under the flurry of powerful strokes. A shadow detached itself from a tree and lined up directly behind him. “One more step.” She renewed the attack and Torel backed again, the large body behind him did not move, and she connected with his abdomen as his arms flailed to recover his balance. He landed gracelessly on his rump.
Bella glanced at him with a smile. “Conall said, that’s for stealing his student.” The silver and tan wolf stood up then and for the first time Captain Torel could see what, or rather who, he had tripped over.







Chapter 32




Conall smiled at him. Bella quickly realized without the mindtouch, reassuring him that this was a smile of greeting, Torel would be quite sure that the two hundred fifty pounds of snarling animal was about to tear his throat out.
“You’d better reassure him,” Conall thought at her, “his mind is panicking; I can’t make anything out of it.”
“Well maybe if you’d stop smiling he’d relax,” she said with a laugh. “I’ve told you before how unsettling your smiles are.”
“Sorry,” he thought back, “I must make do with what I’ve been given. I’m sorry that I frightened him.”
“Well, we’ll see who’s laughing when I decide to eat the supper I brought for him,” Captain Torel said.
That stopped Bella. She had forgotten to bring the meal for Conall. It had slipped her mind. With a chagrined look, she told Conall, “He’s got us there. I was so busy I forgot.” 
“If he has food, I guess he’s alright,” Conall told her.
With a smile she relayed this to Torel.
“Then I guess we’d better get him fed.” Speaking directly to Conall he continued, “I didn’t know exactly what you ate. I rather thought meat since you have lived a long time as a wolf, but I also brought some roots and vegetables. I thought maybe other types of food would still appeal to you as having once been human. If not, perhaps food or other familiar items would enable you to bring back memories of who you once were.”
“There are some roots I've eaten through the years if there wasn’t any carrion. They were sufficient to sustain me, but this form weakened if I ate them exclusively for long periods of time.” He paused briefly in his thoughts, “You didn’t tell him that I'm unable to kill, have you?”
Resting a hand reassuringly on his head she thought to him, “No, the least number of people who know that, the safer you will be. Your appearance is fearsome--I suppose we should play on that. Will you let other members of the Guard see you?”
“Yes, by all means. I feel at home here, such as I have not felt in a good many years. If the gate guards are an example of the discipline this man instills in his troops, they should all be trustworthy. The more people I can interact with, the better the chance I can remember myself.” 
When they were in close proximity to each other, speaking mind to mind was effortless and took less time than carrying on a normal conversation so Torel was surprised when she turned to him and said, “He appreciates the offerings and would like to try them all.”
“You can speak to him without going into a trance?” he asked in awe. “Our best wizards cannot speak with another mind without going into trance. Just how talented are you, Miss Bella?”
Taking a page from Johann’s book, she downplayed her abilities. “I’m not that talented, I just have a great connection with Conall for some reason I can’t explain. It’s very much like having one mind split between two bodies. This is none of my doing, it simply is.”
“Liar,” she heard. “Without the incredible amount of talent you contain I would still be in the mountains up north. I've tried to reach many talented minds as they passed through my small area of the world. In fact I tried to reach Graybeard earlier the same night I first spoke to you, while he stood guard. Not only could he not hear me, he didn't notice me, and he contains a great deal of power within him.”
“If I had anything to do with it I do not know what. At that time, the most magic I knew was Healing, and I fail to see how that relates to mind speech with a wolf.”
The reply she got sounded somewhat saddened, perhaps at her obtuseness. “If ever there was a body in need of Healing it is mine. Perhaps it was that very skill as a Healer that opened your mind to mine. I would give nearly anything to have my life returned to me so I could live it’s brief span and die as everybody else.”
This gave her plenty to think about. “Let’s just get you fed then,” she said lightly as though the last conversation had been nothing more than a discussion about food. 
“Go into my room, Bella,” Captain Torel said. “The food is on the table. Bring it out to him please.”
He stayed with Conall while she went in to find the meal he had brought. It sat on the table, stacked in silver trays. The trays all had rearing unicorns around the outer edges. They were extremely well wrought. They must have come from the King’s own kitchen. 
Then she remembered that Torel had not been at the mess hall earlier. She had assumed she had simply missed him, but she remembered the effect that his presence had on the RA mess. Perhaps he wanted to spare his troops the stress of being on good behavior during a time they should be able to relax. It would seem, Conall was going to eat better than the rest of them tonight.
“That will be a pleasant change,” he thought to her.  You’d best hurry--I think I still make him nervous. Of course he’s making me rather nervous as well. I feel like a bug under a glass.”
When she went back outside she saw what he was talking about. Captain Torel’s scrutiny of Conall was intense. As though simply by staring at him hard enough he could decipher the mystery that stood before him. But he stood with some distance between them, not quite trusting to the wolf’s good intentions.
“Relax Captain,” she said “you’re making him nervous.”
“I’m making him nervous,” Torel retorted with a laugh. “What do you think he does to me?”
“Well sir, Conall’s well aware that he makes everybody nervous. Such is the nature of his curse. Hopefully people will come to trust him as they get to know him.”
Torel helped her set the silver trays on the ground. “He intends to see others then?”
“Yes Sir, he has a great respect for the discipline you have instilled in your troops, and believes he would be safe with any of them. He is quite content just now,” Conall had not told her this, but she knew it to be true. His mind was calmer now, than at any time since she’d met him. She would have thought he’d be nervous among so many people.
Bella uncovered the silver plates and Conall walked over to them. He sat down beside them and stared at her and questioned, “Do I really need to ask you not to watch?”
“Captain,” she said, “why don’t we step down here a ways? He finds it humiliating to have to eat from the ground. Odd as it may be to think of it as dehumanizing in relation to a wolf, it’s things like that, which have kept him from forgetting that he is a human under it all, knowing that he is better than the form he was given.”
“Not necessarily better, just different. Wolves do in fact have many good qualities. Of course my curse kept me from benefiting from them. For instance they have a closely-knit society in which they assist each other with the task of survival. In the singular they are just another hunter. As a pack—a family unit—they are fierce and unstoppable.”
The captain walked away, saying, “How can it possibly be dehumanizing to eat off the king’s silver?”
“Humor him,” Bella responded.
They sat and talked about nothing important, just passing the time until Conall joined them. He lay at Bella’s feet, full and contented. 
“Well Captain, thank you for bringing his supper, but it is late, and tomorrow is already upon us. Robin said we'd be getting up early, and I need to get some sleep, Sir.”
They walked back towards Torel’s cottage and Bella bent over to pick up the silver trays. 
Torel asked, "Would you like me to get his breakfast?”
“I’ll get it as long as Master Rull will allow me to carry it out,” Bella said. 
Taking the almost spotless trays from Bella, Torel said, “I‘ll speak to him. But for tomorrow morning I’ll go ahead and pick it up, just to avoid problems until I see him.” 
“Thank you then, Captain. Good night," she said.
"Good night."







Chapter 33




Conall stood and followed Bella into the cottage. She changed into her sleeping shift and as she pulled it over her head, she smiled to see him sitting there with his head turned away, a perfect gentleman. She got into bed and he curled up beside it, tucking his nose into his tail.
Much too soon she heard a pounding on the door and Robin yelled, “Rise and shine sleepy head," as she busted through the door. “Get dressed, everybody else is headed down to the mess hall already.”
Bella stumbled to the washbasin and splashed some of the cold water in her face, wide-awake, she hurried into her uniform. As she was changing she glanced around and saw Conall's tail sticking out from beside the bed. "Just stay there,” she thought at him, "I'll introduce you when I'm not in a hurry.”
"Yes dear,” he thought back at her and she knew he was grinning. "We haven't even lived together for twenty four hours and you're already giving orders.”
"Keep it up. I have not yet begun to nag you.”
Robin looked around the apparently empty room. "Your friend didn't get in last night?" 
"Oh, he's here. I'll introduce you after breakfast."
They hurried down and met the last of the women coming out of the barracks. Robin hailed her, "Bethany!"
The woman stopped, "I thought everybody left me."
"I just had to go get Bella.” 
Bethany took one look at Bella and said, “She’s the one Captain Torel decided to test isn’t she?”  Bethany laughed. “The entire Guard, and every RA soldier garrisoned here is talking about that duel. Rumor claims there wasn’t enough of her for him to connect with.“ Twinkling eyes settled on Bella’s slight form. “Glad to see, sometimes rumors are true.” 
Robin laughed, then said, “Bella, this is Bethany. She had duty yesterday so you didn’t get to meet her, but she's the one I told you would be the person to go to, to talk about history." With a roll of her eyes she continued, “And apparently she’s the one to see about the latest rumors as well.”
“I got it from the best source.” Bethany’s eyes sparkled with glee.
“You won’t be happy ‘til you tell us, so you might as well go ahead. How does somebody on Palace duty hear the latest gossip?” 
“Well I did hear something already before I went to pull duty, but I heard the tale straight from the Royals’ mouths as they ate supper. Colin brought it up in a snide remark. His Majesty trounced him. Told him he was sure that if she beat Torel, Colin wouldn’t last beyond the first exchange.”
Bella was mortified to find she’d been the topic of discussion at the Royal dinner table. 
Bethany wasn’t about to be put off by Bella’s horrified look. “Young Colin then had a comment about Torel taking food to his cottage. Asked him, if he couldn’t beat her was he going to bed her. I’ve never seen Torel turn on Colin for his stupid remarks before. Everybody knows Colin’s a wastrel. Nobody takes him serious.” 
Excitement shown in Bethany’s face. “But this time, I thought Torel was going to kill Colin for that remark. Swore he would never consider bedding someone in his command.” As an aside Bethany said, “Not that many of us would argue if he looked our way. Unfortunately, Torel is far too professional for that.” 
Not about to stray from her story she continued, “Colin choked. He didn’t know Corporal Gunter had been assigned to the King’s Guard, he was just making trouble as usual. He was doubly trounced when His Majesty spoke up again. ‘Colin‘ he says, ‘What you don‘t know certainly makes you a danger to yourself. Your brother has asked permission to carry a meal to the young corporal’s weapons instructor. A man he’s been anxious to meet since yesterday morning. The person in question has spent a good deal of time as a recluse because of some physical abnormality.’” 
Bethany paused as they passed another cluster of Guards. “Torel colored up a bit at that, so I‘m guessing something wasn‘t quite square there, but when his Majesty continued and said ‘Perhaps if you can’t learn manners, Colin, it‘s time you visit your brother at the end of the world.’ That boy turned white as a sheet. Stammered out an apology for his rudeness and begged to be excused. He never did get along with Dradin. Dradin was the only one who ever tried to make something out of him.”
Robin turned to Bella, “So how about it? What didn’t Torel tell his father about your weapons instructor. Or is there a weapons instructor?” 
Wide eyes and eager ears awaited anything she might pass to them as gossip. One thing Bella had been set straight on right away had been the fact that any gossip gathered on duty stayed within the Guard. It only took one Guard returning to the RA to convince the rest that this was a rule Torel meant to not be broken. She didn’t know if the rule applied to other things best kept within the Guard so until she had time to check with Torel she decided not to tell the two sergeants anything. She did not want the whole city gossiping about Conall. Trying to keep her tone light she said, “You’ll learn about him soon enough. He’s the one staying with me, and he wishes to meet other Guards, but I need to talk to Torel first.”
Robin and Bethany looked disappointed but they accepted her statement with good grace. “As long as we get to be the first ones to meet him. Do you suppose he’ll instruct some of us while he’s here.”
Bella shook her head remembering the burning slice of teeth through her calves. “I’m not sure you’d like his methods.”
Bethany's eyes lit up as her mind changed tracks. She seemed perpetually happy. “Didn’t Robin say something about history way back there by the barracks?”
 At Bella’s next words Bethany absolutely glowed.
"I'm interested, but my friend will want to talk to you."
"Introduce me then, I'll rattle his ears off. Start me talking about history and you'll have to force me to stop. Nice to meet you by the way,” Bethany said, extending her hand in greeting. “What's your friend’s name and why didn't he come to breakfast?"
Bella grinned. "His name is Conall, and when you meet him you'll understand why he's not with us. Maybe once he gets to know everybody."
"The shy type then?" Bethany questioned.
"I'll say!" Robin exclaimed. "I busted through the door this morning and he was nowhere to be seen. She assures me he was there. Not too many places he could have been hiding unless he was beside the bed, lying on the floor. He must be a real dog if he doesn't even dare to show his face."
It was just an expression, but it made Bella laugh out loud.
Robin and Bethany both looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. She gave them a crooked grin and said, “When you meet him, you'll understand why that’s so funny.”
Now they were really curious but Bella refused to answer any more questions about him. "You'll meet him as soon as I talk to Torel. Just you two to start. Robin, since it looks like you'll be coming and going quite a bit in my quarters you get to be one of the first to meet him. And Bethany he'll want to listen to anything you have to say about history. Two new faces should be plenty for now. He hasn't mixed with people in a long time, we’ll start him off slowly."
"How long is a long time? We’re not talking like he's old enough to be your Grandpa, are we?" Robin laughed, expecting Bella to laugh as well. When she didn't, Robin turned and looked at her oddly. "You did say you weren’t lovers didn't you? We just figured that was a lie, so we wouldn't harass you."
When Bella didn't answer, she continued, "All right, I get it, I have to wait 'til after you talk to Torel. You'd better eat fast and then go find the Captain though, 'cause I'm dying to know now.” 
The mess hall was filled when they got there and they waited at the back of the line, the sweet smell of maple syrup made Bella‘s mouth water and Conall bemoaned the unfairness of life as he shared Bella‘s senses. She found it odd that with him in her head she could identify every scent. Bacon, sausage and ham became separate aromas not simply a swirling tantalizing conglomeration. By the time Bella, Robin, and Bethany were done eating the rest of the soldiers had disappeared. From outside she heard orders being given and she caught a glimpse of the Guard moving in formation out towards the gate. First Sergeant Corwin was in command of the formation.
"You don't have to go with them?" she asked Robin and Bethany. 
"I've got special detail, riding herd on you so I get out of weapons practice today, unless you want to do some one on one," Robin said.
"And I just got off duty at the palace, so I'm leaving here in a bit, going to talk to your mysterious friend, and then hitting my rack," Bethany added.
"Hitting your what?" Bella asked, it sounded like Bethany was speaking gibberish.
"Rack," Bethany repeated. "Don't worry you'll catch on to the slang pretty quick. Gods know we use enough of it. There's even a manual on it, ‘Acronyms and Slang of the Military’, anyway your rack is your bed."
"Hmm. I believe that's the book Captain Torel told me to read first," Bella said.
"A very good suggestion," Bethany told her.
They finished eating and walked back to the row of cottages. Bella knocked on Torel’s door and he met her, carrying a new set of silver trays. She took them from him and asked, “Concerning gossip, Sir…”
“Is somebody giving you a hard time, Corporal?”
“No Sir. I was just thinking, Conall wishes to meet other Guards but I don’t think he needs his tale spread throughout the city. That kind of gossip would probably attract all manner of folk trying to see him. What are the rules concerning gossip among the Guards?”
Torel looked past Bella to Robin and Bethany. “As long as it’s not gathered while on duty or there isn’t an order to keep it within the Guard, everything is fair game. I see your point in this case.” Raising his voice to carry to the two sergeants Torel said, “Consider this an order that will be disseminated at Drill and Ceremony formation. If Conall consents to see you, you will not discuss him, outside the Guard.” 
Bella thanked Torel and the three of them returned to Bella’s cottage. Bella balanced the trays and opened the door, sending, "We're coming in,” to Conall.
"I don't suppose you could ask them not to scream. Maybe prepare them a little. It hurts a guy’s feelings when the women run off screaming when they see him. And don't think I didn't catch that crack about a real dog. I'm much handsomer than any dog."
Turning to her friends she said, "He's asked me to beg you not to scream. He won't hurt anybody, he's just a bit different from your average old Guardsman. And he resents the crack about being a dog. He claims to be much more handsome."
"And when did he tell you all this?"
"I told you yesterday, we have a great mental connection."
"I didn't think you meant it quite literally," Robin said.
"So that you thoroughly understand,” Bella told them, “the only way to communicate with Conall is through mindspeech.”
Suddenly Robin and Bethany didn't look so anxious to meet her companion. She opened the door before they could back out. He would have to convince them he was harmless, by himself.
Conall was sitting perfectly still beside the bed. So still in fact that on the first sweep through the room, the eyes of both women missed him. Then suddenly Bethany’s eyes darted back to where he sat, followed shortly by Robin’s. They didn't scream, but they did stand very still as though hoping that if they didn't move, he wouldn't attack them. 
Bella walked into the room and sat on the bed beside him. “This is Conall,” she said and laid a hand possessively on his head. “Now you see why your dog comment was so funny, even if he didn't appreciate it.”
Bethany recovered first, her bubbly personality coming to the rescue. "Why would a wolf be interested in the history of the King’s Guard?" 
“You know all those rumors you’ve been discussing, about my first encounter with Captain Torel?”
"Yes…”
Bella turned to Robin. “Were you on the field that morning?”
“Yes, but unlike him, we didn't have the option to stop and watch. The Weaponsmaster would have made us pay dearly for that bit of leisure.” She rubbed at imaginary muscle strain. “I was close enough to see him challenge you with practice swords. Thought that was a bit peculiar, but when he picked you for the Guard, we decided he had his reasons."
"He did,” Bella said. “Apparently he was attracted to my style of swordsmanship, which was taught to me by this fine gentleman. Conall coached me for several months as we traveled.”
Conall leaned into her leg. She felt him tremble. He was afraid he would not be accepted. 
“He used to be human. So long ago he can't remember anything about his past. But when Captain Torel told me that the style I'd been taught was that of the Guard--Conall, my brother, and I, came to the realization that he must have been a King’s Guard at one time. A wizard who died long ago, cursed him. We hope if we can figure out who he used to be, perhaps we'll be able to break his curse."
"And that would be why he's interested in history," Bethany chimed in.
"What a handsome fellow," Robin said, gathering her courage. "Not sure I want to run into him in the dark, but he is the best looking wolf I've ever seen. Be interesting to see if his human form matches."
"Now I'm blushing,” Conall thought, some of his usual confidence returning.
Bella smiled. "You're embarrassing him," she said.
"They don't have to stop though,” Conall sent to her with a laugh in his thoughts.
She laughed outright at that. "But he says you don't have to stop."
Both women rather hesitantly approached him and Conall sat very still while Robin gently put a hand on his head. “I’m not going to break,” Conall thought at Bella. “If she wants to touch me, she has to scratch where it itches.”
After Bella relayed this to her, Robin smiled and said, “I just didn’t want to make him mad. That is one big set of teeth he has. I didn’t know if he’d appreciate being touched and petted like a dog,”
“It’s better than them being afraid,” Conall thought sadly. “Besides, I get itches. You wouldn’t believe some of the insects that live around here. Tell her right behind the ear could use a good rub.”
When Bella told her this, Robin looked more positive, and started scratching where directed in earnest. The look of contentment on Conall’s face, removed any doubt the two women might still have had about his personality. 
“What can you tell me about his story?” Bethany asked. “I’ve got to get some sleep, but when I wake up I can get started on research.”
“Unfortunately, the only things we know for certain are that it happened a long time ago and that the wizard who cursed him was named Dorang.”
“Well that narrows it down. Unfortunately that was a rather dark time for the Guard. I can tell you now that there will be a long list of candidates. On two separate occasions entire battle groups were lost. Their disappearances were all credited to Dorang. Several other Guards disappeared from battlefields mysteriously. The Guard policy is never leave a man behind, but in the case of the two Battle Groups there was no one left to report what had happened.” Bethany rummaged through the bits of knowledge in her head. “The ones that disappeared from the battlefields vanished before their swordtwin’s eyes. When dealing with a wizard whose specialty is transformation there is no telling what happened to any of them.” Looking at Conall she amended, “Well I guess we know what became of one. That will be nearly one hundred and sixty names to sort through. If he can remember anything else it would be a big help.”
“He has lived in the Rortag Mountains as long as he can remember,” Bella added, trying to remember anything else that might be helpful. 
“Good enough then, I’m off to bed, I should at least have a start on that list tonight.”
She scratched Conall firmly on the head and said directly to him, “Don’t worry we’ll figure this out.”
When she left, Robin said, “We’ve got to go pick up your uniforms. If I let you run around looking like that again today, the Captain will have my head.”
They arrived at the seamstress’s shop just as she was opening the door for business. She greeted them with a smile and went immediately to get the altered uniforms. Bella tried one on before leaving and carried the one she had been wearing back to her cottage. “I guess I need to wash this before I take it back to be altered.”
“No you don’t,” Robin assured her. “Every Friday, Quartermaster Company picks up dirty uniforms. One of the perks of being in the military. You still get to wash any civilian clothes you may wear. But between drill, duty, weapons practice, and horsemanship lessons, about the only time you’ll have to wear civilian clothes is when you’re fast asleep or on leave. “Right now let’s hit the books. If we do this as a question and answer session it shouldn’t be quite as monotonous as trying to read it.”
 The rest of the morning was spent trying to learn all the baffling acronyms and terms that everybody else seemed to take for granted. Afternoon found them in the stables, where Angel managed to make her look competent. She already felt more confidence in her ability to stick with him. But not enough that she was ready to try any other horse. That would still be awhile in coming, but she felt as though she was better able to stay with Angel without him having to put effort into keeping her there.
That evening Bella assembled with the rest of the Guard members in formation for the first time. She had her first lesson in drill and ceremony. Captain Torel appeared before the exercise began. He called Bella out of formation. She stood in front of the battle group of Guardsmen and he said, “For those of you who haven’t yet figured it out, this is Corporal Gunter. She joined our ranks yesterday on the merit of her swordsmanship skills.” Snickers erupted from multiple places within the formation. Captain Torel rolled his eyes. “As I’m sure you all know, yes she did get first strike on me. And that with only six months of swordsmanship training.”
Bella cleared her throat and squeaked out, “Four, Sir.”
Captain Torel grimaced. “Her instructor is staying in cottage number two with her. You will all eventually get to meet him, and you may consider this an order. The gentleman in question, currently is wearing the form of a large silver and tan wolf. He is not target practice, and he is not to be gossiped about outside this compound.”
Complete silence greeted his words. Except for one of the sergeants that pulled gate duty the night Conall arrived, every pair of eyes searched the ground, reluctant to let Torel see the doubt in them. But when Torel said, “Does everybody clearly understand?” to a man they responded, “Yes Sir.”
Torel turned the formation over to Fist Sergeant Corwin. Drill was very important for the soldiers that pulled duty in and around the palace, and she gathered that would be including her shortly. 
She was completely incompetent and managed to cause some major problems in the drill but the others accepted her problems with good-natured jokes. She decided as time went on, this too would become easier.
Captain Torel spoke to Rull and during the evening meal Rull brought her several trays; all carefully wrapped to be carried back to her room. 
“This is for your friend, the Captain was telling me about. For this favor he has put you on the duty roster for my kitchen for the noon meal, everyday for two weeks beginning one week from now.” He smiled when he said this. “There are worse duties you could pull, even if nobody else will admit that to you. Robin tells me you're familiar with kitchens, I admit I used this favor to get some skilled help for a change.”
“I don’t mind working in the kitchen. Did he say why I wouldn’t start until next week?”
The dark eyes sparkled at her willingness to work for him. “You must speak to him. He said only that he had something else in mind for you this week.”
Sitting beside her, Robin shook her head. “Probably just giving you time to get settled in. I assume if you pull duty this week, I’ll be there as well. And I haven't received any orders yet.”
They finished eating and Bella returned to her cottage to find Conall anxiously waiting for her. She put the food down for him and he grumped about the unadorned brass trays. She laughed and scratched his ears, then went for a shower while he ate. As she was returning Captain Torel called out to her. “See me tomorrow morning for your duty assignment.”
She saluted him. “Yes Sir,” and continued on to bed.








Chapter 34




The next morning, when Robin pounded on her door, Bella was already dressed. They rushed to the mess hall and Bella relayed the order Torel had given her the night before.
Robin shrugged. “I’ve been given no orders except to ride herd on you, so I guess I’m going with you. He didn’t offer up a clue?”
“Not a one.”
They hurried through breakfast and reported to the Guard HQ. As they entered the front office Sergeant Alva, came to attention. “Sir, Sergeant Alva and Corporal Gunter reporting as ordered.”
In response to a muffled command, the desk sergeant waved them back. Bella led the way to Torel’s office. The Captain was digging through a supply closet. When they entered the door, he turned around, a mail coat in his hands. He looked at Bella and asked, “Have you tried your mail on?”
She shook her head. It had been heavy enough toting it from where it had been issued to her. She put it in the chest, rather hoping to avoid the need of wearing it.
“Then you don’t know if it fits?” 
Torel had completely missed, or ignored, the forlorn look that crossed her face when he said ‘mail’. Carrying the hauberk and coif he had just dug out of the closet he sat at his desk. He pushed the mail across to Bella. “I suspect what you were issued will be as large or larger than your uniforms. Try this on.”
She grunted as she picked it up. The padding wrapped snugly around her body. Sergeant Alva helped her slip the Hauberk over her head. The bottom fell just below her hips, the chest was a little tight and the shoulders a bit loose but Bella was sure it fit better than the issue would. Robin picked up the arming cap and tucked Bella’s hair underneath it. She followed the cap with the coif. Bella staggered under the weight. 
Torel nodded approval. Then looked at Sergeant Alva. “You’ll need your mail as well.”
A small groan escaped her lips. Quickly stifled but not before Captain Torel heard it. “This isn’t a punishment detail. I’ll not have my Guards in the dungeon, unarmored. Meet us by the supply room.”
Without another word, Robin got up and left. Bella started to follow, but Torel called her back. “She is perfectly capable of putting her own mail on. I wish to speak with you. Have you figured out why you're going to the dungeons?”
Bella searched for any clue she might have overlooked. She came up with nothing and had to admit that.
“Your friend from Sergeant Marner’s farm is still a guest. Since you arrived in the compound, he seems to be coming out of his stupor. I want you to try to speak to him. Try to make some sense out of his words.”
“Sir, I told you before I don’t understand him. He barely speaks Ronese.”
“I've asked Baltor to cast a spell for you to learn Telgarn. We will stop to see him first.”
“I thought Baltor was just an initiate. Is a language spell so easy to do then?”
Torel opened the door of his office and Bella shuffled out behind him. She was glad now of the conditioning of months of walking with a pack. The mail wasn’t as bad as she had feared it would be, once she adjusted to the weight.
“Baltor may be just an initiate but he has access to the books of magic. He has agreed to abide by my wish that he not report you to the Wizards’ Corps. We don't want anybody else casting spells on you, unless perhaps you can do the spell yourself?”
With a snort, Bella said, “Not likely. If I tried it I’d end up speaking everything but Telgarn.”
She followed him across the Guard compound to one of the small vacant rooms on the ground floor of the palace. Mops and brooms occupied corners of the room. Baltor waited for them, looking decidedly guilty. Bella supposed he was violating some kind of rule doing this without approval from the Corps.
Torel calmed Baltor’s nerves. “If anyone finds out you did this, I will tell them I ordered it. She’ll need the spell before the end of winter anyway. There is no way she could learn the language well enough to pass for Telgarn in less than three months. Whom I choose to perform the spell, is my decision.”
Baltor went into a trance. When he turned his attention to Bella she did not have the sensation of his energy searching hers. It felt as though he were plucking at her strands of energy, twisting and weaving them together. Her heart raced as she resisted the urge to fight the intrusion. She was glad she had, when he emerged from his trance wide-eyed, a silent scream dying on his lips. 
Baltor gained control of his mind again and looked at Bella with a frightened expression. 
“What is it?” Torel demanded.
When Baltor did not answer, Torel asked, “Is it done?”
This time Baltor tore his gaze away from Bella long enough to say, “Yes Sir. It’s done. Please do not ask me to touch her energy again.” He turned his gaze back to Bella, examining her from head to toe. In a hushed voice he asked, “What are you?”
Torel placed a hand on Baltor’s shoulder and pulled him back from Bella. He  spun him around and repeated his earlier question. “What is it that has you so scared?”
“I don’t know. If I could identify it, it wouldn’t frighten me so badly, but as soon as I touched her strands, they came alive of their own volition. By the time I finished, a second consciousness seemed to be contesting my right to play about with her power. There are odd streaks of color I’ve never seen in anybody else. My experience is limited but I've never even heard mention of these colors of spirit.” 
Bella’s interest was piqued. She had not searched her own aura in months. She had gotten used to just grabbing for the familiar strands, and had nearly forgotten the varied hues of her energy, too weak for her to access. 
Baltor continued. “The bloodred energy is the one that is so terribly powerful. She does not yet control it, and if she does not learn to do so, it may rise up and control her one day.” Baltor’s attention swung distractedly from Bella to Torel. “I've never seen such a thing. For her own good you should allow me to mention this to Commander Paulus.” 
Bella and Torel both turned forbidding stares on him.
Huffing, Baltor said, “I’m sorry, Sir, but if you ever require anything that would put me up against that force again, you will have to apply through the Wizards’ Chain of Command.”
Baltor wrapped his blue robes around himself and scurried from the room without a backward glance. As he left, Bella turned her sight inward. The colors were stronger but the bloodred greeted her warmly. To her it was not frightening or threatening. It was still not strong enough to be of much use, even if she knew what feats of magic she could perform with its energy. She didn’t understand how something so weak could frighten Baltor so badly.
Torel’s questioning glance brought a negative shake of her head. 
Robin was waiting in the hallway and Torel led them through a maze of passages to a set of stairs. The stairs descended into total darkness. Torches lit as they approached. A glance over her shoulder told Bella the lights dimmed, as soon as the small group was too far away to benefit from them.
As they climbed deeper into the earth, Bella shivered. She’d never been so far underground and every step brought a slightly more claustrophobic sensation. Contemplating the gloom above and below caused her to dread the next step. 
Thirteen, fourteen... thirty-five, ...forty, right-hand turn. Counting stairs she tried not to think about how far down they were going. Three right-hand turns, then a walk down a short passage and Torel started down again. Twelve... twenty-two-... Bella stopped. She looked over her shoulder as the light above flickered out. Looking to the front, only dark greeted her. One more step would bring the next light on. She had the count now. Knew when each light would snap on, but between this step and the last, the light was dimmer than Johann’s brown ball of wizard light on a new moon. Her knees shook uncontrollably as she forced her feet to take the next step.
Behind her Robin nearly trod on her heels. The light came on and she rushed to its welcoming embrace. Fifteen more steps and the light above snapped out. 
Bella stopped. 
She couldn’t do this. 
Conall surged up in her mind. “Don’t think about the dark.” 
“It isn’t the dark. Or it isn’t just the dark.”
He dug deeper than her surface fear. “You feel the weight of the earth about you. Your Gray-bearded friend would be in his glory in such a hole.”
“I am certainly not in my glory.”
Behind her, Robin pressed a hand between her shoulder blades. Bella surged forward moving away from the gentle press of fingers on her spine. 
In front of her Torel halted. “Are you all right?”
Damp with sweat, her skin was cool and clammy. “I c-c-can’t d-do this , S-Sir.”
Anger darkened Torel’s eyes. “Why can’t you speak with this prisoner? You already have, at least once.”
Robin waited silently, not sure enough of what was happening to intervene.
“It’s n-not t-that, S-Sir.” Bella took the next step that brought the light on below them, then turned to look back up the stair well.
“Then what is the problem, Corporal?”
“I-I c-can-t-t go d-down.”
She felt Torel search her aura, felt his sapphire warmth wrap her mind. Felt a sudden surge of anger as Conall erupted in a flash of blue power that rivaled Torel’s. She felt her own rush of green intervene between the two, wrapping Conall in a controlling web. Conall didn’t fight her and the sapphire energy ebbed to the calm familiar presence. Torel backed away from her, eyes wide. When Conall calmed, she turned back to Torel. “I’m sorry, Sir. The dark and the earth are too much. He only knew that I was frightened. He felt you intrude and fought.”
She was distracted enough to forget her fears. 
“That didn’t feel like he was protecting you.” 
“But he was, Sir.” 
She didn’t add, ‘He was protecting me from you‘. The unspoken words hung in the air between them. 
“When we are through here, we need to talk, Corporal.” He glanced meaningfully up the stairs to Sergeant Alva. “Do you think you can go on now?”
“I’m all right for the moment, Sir.”
“If it gets too suffocating again. You have permission to light it up. The wizards don’t come down here unless their presence is requested. Nobody will feel you use the energy through the wall of earth.” 
Bella sent three balls of light out, as soon as permission was granted. One spun brilliantly far below, one hung just overhead casting a green light with the brilliance of a noontime sun and up the stairs a third globe hung. Conall chattered in her mind, keeping her distracted from where she was. She chastised him for his jealousy.
Robin just stared. Her eyes swinging without comprehension from one green globe to the next, then down to Bella.
Torel caught Sergeant Alva’s gaze, and ordered, “Not a word, Sergeant.”
She mutely nodded.
In this manner they descended one more long flight of stairs. Walked down a longer hallway, followed by a short flight of steps. At the last turning, just before the hallway went down again, Bella noticed an alcove on the inside bend of the hallway.
A Guard was posted there. His eyes did not rise to the globes of light. He stood at attention and saluted Torel as he paused.
Torel returned the salute, “All quiet, Corporal?”
“All quiet, Sir.”
Down the stairs, around a final corner and Torel motioned for Sergeant Alva to come up beside him. A hall of doors with bars in the windows opened off the bottom of the stair. It did not smell anywhere near as bad as Bella remembered the dungeons of her fairytales smelling, but there was still an odor of unwashed bodies and unemptied chamber pots. Or if she chose to believe the fairy tales soiled straw. Perhaps a pit in the floor.
Her mind was running away from her. Conall said, “They have chamber pots. These are not common prisoners. They are the King’s prisoners.”
Faces occupied some of the doors, staring out in wonder at the dancing green lights. Bella wondered how long they had been kept here in this hole under the earth. No matter what the cause, Bella couldn’t contemplate a punishment earning her being locked far away under the earth, in the dark. She was glad she had her own light source. She would lose her mind in less than a day if she had to remain down here in a cell.
In the fourth cell on the left side, a familiar face hovered. The Telgarn called out to her happily. “Lady Pink. You have come to help me.”
Torel looked at her, but she shook her head. “I'm here at Captain Torel’s bidding.”
Baltor had wrought his spell effectively. She could not even tell she was not speaking her own language.
Torel examined the prisoner. “Now you can talk?” 
The man in the cell looked delighted. “Now I can talk. Without, Lady Pink, I am not myself.”
Torel glanced at Bella, then back to the prisoner. “She seems to do that to people.”
Bella was more concerned, with the Telgarn’s statement. “How do you mean, ’You are not yourself.’”
“I'm not able to think. But I felt you coming, for days. I owe you my life Lady, but something happened when you Healed me. I fear this hole in the ground, and yet I used to stand guard in holes deeper than this.” His gaze was caught by one of the spinning globes. “As you came down the steps, I knew the fear was yours, not mine.”
“How do you mean?”
Torel signaled a Guard at the end of the Hallway. The sergeant came forward and when Torel indicated the door, he removed a key ring from his belt and opened the cell. The prisoner limped to the back of the small dank room without being ordered to. The chamber pot stood beside the doorway. A long wide plank hung from the far wall covered by a single blanket.
She understood why this man would have been rocking in a corner. Especially if, as she began to suspect, some of her personality had seeped into his as they lay connected by the Healing aura.
Torel said, “He has now spoken more words than he has since my men picked him up. He has been nearly unconscious for months now, eating, sleeping, rocking, and muttering the same thing over and over.”
The man looked sullenly at Torel. “You do not know the hell I have lived in since Lady Pink left my side.”
“Enlighten us then, since you seem to have found your tongue.”
A sour look was all Torel earned. “I've told you what you wish to know, hundreds of times. I will not tell you again.”
Bella stepped forward and from his seat on the wooden plank, the man leaned forward. Her mind likened him to an animal eager for the touch of its mistress. She shrank from his need, but asked him, “Will you tell me what they want to know?”
“I'll tell you anything you wish, Lady, but they must leave.”
Torel walked out of the cell. Sergeant Alva cast a doubtful glance over her shoulder but obeyed her commanding officer. Bella was armed, not only with magic but with her sword and throwing daggers. Before the door closed, Bella called all three globes of light through it.
The man sitting on the bench across from her was young. Far younger than he had looked while she battled death for him. 
He moved off the bench and knelt at her feet. “I know what you did for me Lady. I know you almost gave your life for me, and though I may end my days in this cell, I am yours to command.”
Bella backed away uneasily. “Please get up. You can’t be comfortable kneeling on the ground. I pulled the shards of bone from your side, I know how much pain you must still live with.”
“But I live. That is a miracle.”
“Let me see if I can do anything about the way you're bonded to me first. Then I'll try to mend the bone. What is your name?”
“I am called Dalanor, Lady. I would appreciate it if you could sever the tie, so I am not so paralyzed here in the dark, but you have done enough for me. Do not take my pain. You’ll not be able to climb the steps.”
Conall seconded the man’s words. “He does not need to move much. How will you get to Angel if you take his pain? You are losing strength there, underground.”
His words were not lost on Bella. But she was determined to finish the job she started. “I would think the power of the earth would be greater here.”
Conall did not respond. So she searched out his mind. He did not respond because she was right and he had no answer. The golden brown energy should have been strong here. But it wasn’t, he was not lying about that. She checked herself and wondered briefly if Baltor had done something to her. All her colors were dim, except the bloodred that had frightened him. She reached out to this new strength and the globes of light cast a reddish tinge.
Dalanor cringed. “I'm sorry if I angered you Lady. You may do with me as you wish.”
She laid a gentle hand under his chin and forced him to rise. “You have not angered me. It is just a stronger source of energy. I can use the green if you're more comfortable with that, but my energy fades here, underground.”
The man, turned his eyes to her feet, he bowed his head. She touched his shoulder, lightly pushing him back toward the bunk he had risen from. Her soft touch brought his eyes back to her face, they glowed with a light she‘d only seen in priests who claim to commune with their particular God or Goddess. The thought caused her a moments uneasiness, and in her head, Conall whined, “Stay away from him, Bellana.”
“After what you did to Torel, you’re lucky I haven’t blocked you from my mind.”
Conall withdrew--defeated in the face of her anger.
In front of her, Dalanor backed up to his bunk. She checked his aura. She was unable to see where the connection was. Perhaps Angel… That would require getting Dalanor outside. 
If Torel consented, she could do it. But first Dalanor would need to climb all those stairs. She looked to the dull gray in his aura. The wound had sealed well enough where she stitched it, but the missing intestine and bone fragments, prevented a complete recovery. She also saw a crookedly healed fracture she had missed in the initial Healing.
“Lay down,” she ordered, uncertain as to the wisdom of directing him by touch. He complied and she knelt beside him. 
She used the process she had perfected for Healing poorly healed bones. Instead of drawing out the calcium deposits, she redirected them to create new bone to replace the missing. She reached out to the earth surrounding her and drew the needed minerals through the dirt floor. Transforming them to magical energy, she finished the task of rebuilding the bone. Then she knit together the old fracture and attempted to stand up.
The door opened the moment she grunted with the pain of Dalanor’s injury. Torel stood in the doorway, watching as she tried to get to her feet. Anger suffused his voice. “What has he done?”
The man in question was prone on the bed; afraid he’d catch a knife in the chest if he moved. Bella hobbled across to the doorway. “He has done nothing. I need to see Angel.” She indicated the prisoner, “Dalanor needs to come along.”
She limped past Torel and hoped he would do as she requested. Asking for a prisoner to be allowed outside might be pushing how far he would let her go. The globes of light followed Bella and inside the cell, Dalanor shrieked, “Do not leave me in darkness.”







Chapter 35




Bella was gratified to hear Captain Torel order, “On your feet.” Dalanor’s steps were slow and uncertain as he followed Bella, walking pain free for the first time in months. She could only imagine the agony he suffered on the ride south from Dylan’s farm.
Sergeant Alva paced behind the prisoner, a hand on her sword. When Bella reached the bottom of the stairs, she sent one globe of light soaring ahead of her. When she stood staring at the steps, Torel came up beside her and reached an arm around her waist. “Lean on me.”
Conall surfaced in her mind. Her muffled gasps of pain were accompanied by a constant low growl, that only she could hear. By the time they reached the next flight of stairs, Dalanor was walking much better. Bella slowly began to feel the pain ebb but the stairs remained a struggle. 
By the top of the second flight, she found herself securely nestled in Captain Torel’s arms. Dalanor climbed steadily, hovering beside Torel, while Conall continued to growl. It was all she could do to keep from screaming in anger at both of them. She wasn’t sure how—but she knew she had created the problem with Dalanor. She would fix that when she found Angel. Conall on the other hand…
He would not obey her demand that he cease his growling and she shielded against him. She was in too much pain to deal with his jealousy. Particularly when there was nothing to be jealous about.
Two landings up, Torel put her down. “I had to make you wear mail.” He grinned. “It probably weighs as much as you do.”
Dalanor leapt at the chance. “I can carry her.”
“No,” erupted from both Bella and Torel. Crestfallen, Dalanor continued up the stairs ahead of them, Sergeant Alva dogging his steps, hand on her sword.
Bella rushed to assuage injured feelings. “It’s nothing personal. Your leg needs to recover its strength. It would not be good for either of us if you were to fall.”
“I understand,” Dalanor said, though his eyes still reflected thwarted worship.
Torel helped her out of the mail and handed it to Dalanor. “If you wish to carry something, carry this. It is hers, and it won’t break if your leg should give out.” 
Once she shed the mail, Torel picked her up again and carried her the remaining flights of steps.
At the top, before they were back in the general populace he put her down and changed places with Sergeant Alva. Robin put an arm around her waist and helped her to the door of the dungeon. Before the door opened, Bella dowsed the bloodred lights. 
As she hobbled through, heads turned their way. Captain Torel halted Dalanor. He turned to Robin and said, “Take Bella to the stable, I'll have the prisoner at HQ.” 
“No.” Bella panted. “I need him at the stables.”
They worked their way slowly past the shops and as they crossed populated hallways, Captain Torel loudly said, “Make a hole.” And a passage swept open ahead of them, civilians and Guards alike, shifting out of his way. When they left the palace behind, the natural sunlight and the breeze felt wonderful. Before they traveled twenty feet, Bella felt her energy returning. Every step brought her more upright—less dependant on Robin’s supporting arm. 
At a snail’s pace they approached the stables. When they were close, Bella heard hooves thundering in the aisle way. The stable door opened on utter chaos. 
Bella’s slight form in the doorway returned calm as Angel slid to a stop in front of her. He reached out and snuffled her hair and dropped his head against her chest, taking the pain of the Healing, ignoring the angry sergeant behind him.
After assuring Robin she would be fine, Sergeant Alva cautiously circled the large black stallion in front of her and went to sooth, Sergeant Stefan. 
Bella backed out of the door and Angel stepped out in the sunlight. The great black head swung from Bella to Dalanor, with a quizzical look, then back to Bella again. Bella sought out Conall. “Have you told Angel what the problem is with Dalanor, or did you only tell him enough to get him riled up?”
“I told him about that male. I told him about you Healing it without him there. I told him how you let that Captain carry you up the stairs.” The curt tone would have told her his feelings on that, even if she hadn’t been able to read them from his mind. “And I told him I could no longer speak to you.”
“So you got him excited on purpose.” Bella reached a hand out to Angel’s face and gently traced the star. “Can he help with the other problem?”
“Of course he can. That’s what unicorns do. They purify.”
“Purify?”
Conall’s tone went from sulky to superior. He had information nobody else had. “Usually when people speak of this ritual it is in conjunction with removing poisons from water, but it is the same theory in this process. He must remove the bit of your essence that transferred through the Healing.” 
Angel turned and placed his nose on Dalanor’s shoulder. Bella watched through second-sight as he blew a strand of sapphire energy into Dalanor’s ear. Everybody else just saw the breath waft through the young Telgarn’s hair, so it was unexpected when moments later he collapsed, unconscious.
Torel knelt beside the fallen man and Angel nuzzled him again. Bella watched Angel retrieve his sapphire energy. It was wrapped around a brightly glowing green and gold strand. Once free of it’s host, the strand struggled toward Bella. Angel released it and the energy returned to its rightful place.
Dalanor moaned, and began to sit up. Torel kept him down with a hand on his shoulder. “Give it a minute. You’ll be fine.”
The young man’s steady green eyes sought out Bella. “Lady Pink, you must not go to Telgar.”
Torel’s manner changed. He stood and snatched Dalanor off the ground, threw him over his shoulder and marched off to HQ.
Bella ordered Angel back to his stall and hurried after them.
HQ was not much better than the stable had been, when they arrived there. Being held at bay by the desk sergeant, Johann was demanding to see Captain Torel. 
Torel strode past him carrying Dalanor to the sealed room. When Bella walked through the door, Johann latched on to her hand and followed her down the hall. Behind them, Sergeant Alva carried Bella’s mail from where it had fallen. She sat in a chair, grateful for the respite.
Bella heard other feet climbing the stairs to the Guard HQ, but when Torel slammed the door behind Johann, silence reigned.
In the sealed room, Johann spoke first. “What have you been doing?” The question wasn’t directed at anyone specific.
Bella and Torel spoke at the same time. Bella closed her mouth, allowing Torel the right of his rank.
“I have been interrogating a prisoner. Not that it’s any business of the King’s Wizard.”
Johann scowled. “It becomes my business when it involves my granddaughter and energy of a sort that has never been felt before. I felt her draw the earth energy and I knew she was using it to Heal, but the whole process was overlaid by an energy I have never felt in my lifetime. And during the wars there were many different energies present.”
Bella frowned at Johann, “You felt me draw the earth energy?” She turned accusing eyes on Torel. “You said they would not feel it, as deeply as we were buried.”
Johann answered her. “The others did not feel you use the earth. The palace and its grounds are mine. I feel the use of my branch of energy, anywhere, within the confines of the inner wall, above or below ground.” He waggled a finger under her nose. “It is part of my position to be able to know when the energies are accessed within my domain. What else did you use?”
When she did not respond, he paced to the chair the Telgarn sat in and returned. “What was that other energy, Bella?” His tone demanded an answer she didn’t have. “That was so strong they will all have felt it. They are no doubt already clamoring at my door. Paulus will not be easy to put off.”
Bella couldn’t explain what she didn’t understand. “It was the red. You told me the colors other than earth tones were shades of spirit. You know more than I what it was.”
Johann shook his head. “Red is a fire wizard. I know what red feels like and it was not that.”
“No, Grandfather. My red is not the scarlet of fire. It is the red of freshly spilled blood.”
Johann stopped pacing and straightened. He searched her with second-sight, even in his trance, he remained alert. When he again focused on Bella’s eyes he asked, “How is it possible that it’s strong enough for you to use, yet I cannot see it?”
Bella lifted her shoulders, and returned his steady gaze. “My strengths faded underground. That strand became stronger, brighter, so I used it to keep my witch’s light glowing. While I healed Dalanor’s leg with what remained of my earth energies.”
“Dala…” Johann spun and looked at the young man he had nearly paced over earlier, seeming to see him for the first time. “You…it’s...Bella, why must you care for all the lost sheep?”
“I'm not the only one here who could be accused of that. But if you must know, I Healed him, because I left him damaged. And because healthy, he may have information I need.”
Dalanor nodded eagerly in his chair and attempted to speak. 
Torel shook his head angrily and raised a fist before Dalanor spoke the first word. “If I must break your jaw, I will do so. Speak only when you have permission to speak.”
Dalanor shrank away from the raised fist and closed his mouth.
Johann said, “I need something I can tell Paulus and the others from the Corps. If he has a suggestion let him speak.”
Dalanor sat up straight and risked uttering, “Blame me.”
Johann turned his back, chewing at his lower lip. 
Torel rubbed his temples. 
Bella saw merit in the idea. “He was nearly out of his mind before and now he can speak and think. Why not claim that he was under a spell of unknown origins that shattered under interrogation?”
Dalanor’s face lit. “Yes. I will tell them that.”
Torel turned on him. “And will you tell us any information you have about why you were in Ronan?”
Dalanor did not become as sullen as he had in the dungeon, but he repeated the statement he made there. “I've already told you all you need to know. Anything else, I will tell only, Lady Pink.”
“Do not call me that again.” Bella did not intend the sharpness to her tone, but she had left the name Pink behind for a reason.
“Is it not your name? I was fevered on the farm, but I thought that was what they called you?” He wrinkled his forehead in confusion. “I have lived with a part of you for months now, it is what you’re called.”
“Pink, is what I was called. I do not use it now. It isn’t safe for me to use that name.” Her lips turned up in a lopsided grin. “And the, Lady part of that title, I have never been.” 
Dalanor’s face fell. Then his smile returned and he said, “It is what you are now. It’s what you have always been. Ask the one inside your head.”
Bella’s jaw dropped. How had he known about Conall?
Conall joined the conversation for the first time. “I told you, I’ve been in your head since first I spoke to you. With his shadow of you, he must have seen me. But he’s right. There is no doubt that you are a Lady.”
Bella felt her cheeks burn. She plopped into a chair near the door and jumped when someone pounded on it. 
Johann opened the door, to the stormy face, and peach robes, of Paulus, the Commander of the Wizard Corps. “How dare you lock me out? I demand an explanation for what occurred at the castle this afternoon.”
Johann waved Paulus into the room. “Relax. We‘re all friends here. We locked you out because we didn’t know you were here.”
“We were nearly on your heels until the lackeys in the front office dared to stop us, insisting that you were not to be disturbed by anyone.” Paulus’s robe swirled in agitation as he stalked around the small office glaring at all those within.
“That was the order they were given. I’m glad to know they obeyed, but had we expected you, we would have made it clear you were to be permitted through.” Captain Torel was not cowed by the wizard. Nor was he afraid to lie to someone with the ability to use a truth spell. If Bella hadn’t known he was royalty before, she would have now.
Paulus let the words pacify him, though he knew them to be false. It was enough that the Prince, and the King’s Wizard displayed proper respect, even if it was only lip service. He turned his raptor’s gaze upon the other occupants of the shielded room, sliding from Bella to Dalanor. He turned to Johann and said, “Your granddaughter turns up in some peculiar places. Why would a corporal be in this group?”
In a voice of spun silk Johann told half-truths to deflect the abilities of magic to discern the lies. “Bella sewed up young Dalanor’s side when we were at a farm up north. He must have succumbed to infection because he took a turn for the worse when we departed.” Johann walked behind Dalanor and laid a hand on either shoulder. “When Captain Torel discovered she had assisted the prisoner, he thought perhaps a friendly face would bring him out of his stupor.” 
Paulus stood sorting through the words Johann wove, applying the truth spell to them. “And did it help. He was carried up here over the good Captain’s shoulder?”
“It helped very much indeed. You yourself have tried to get sense out of him and were unable to do more than watch him rock back and forth shrieking about changelings. Here he sits, calm as can be.
Dalanor opened his mouth but a subtle tightening of Johann’s fingers on his shoulders silenced him. 
Paulus observed the interchange. “Let him speak.”
Johann released his grip and Dalanor said, “My assignment was a simple one. I was to spread the news that Prince Lorun is alive, and King Thale is willing to exchange his prisoner for a changeling.”
Once again Paulus sorted for the truth. Thunderclouds grew as he assessed what he found. Captain Torel cut off his words. “You can see Commander, this is my prisoner. If it has anything to do with my brother he is no longer your problem.”
“But there are no changelings.”
Relief flooded Bella’s mind. Dalanor showed more restraint than he had thus far. He kept his mouth closed. She knew he believed she was a changeling. There had been enough clues in what he said while insane. If Torel chose not to hear them, she certainly wasn’t going to tell him. All she needed was somebody going around saying she was a fairy.
Not that anybody would believe it. 
The Commander of the Wizard Corps had just declared there were no changelings. That was commonly accepted knowledge. Bella could understand Dalanor being sent on a mission at the ravings of a madman but for some reason he seemed to believe he had found King Thale’s changeling. She wanted to understand why he believed the way he did.
“And there you have it,” Johann told Paulus. “A soldier, sent on a fruitless quest by a lunatic. If Thale’s ravings have kept Prince Lorun alive this long, we should be glad he’s a madman.”
Torel held the door for Paulus. “If you don’t mind, we were just about to question the prisoner to find out what he knows, or doesn’t know about Lorun.”
Paulus turned to leave, but swung back around. “That burst of energy this afternoon… You still haven’t explained that.”
With a shrug Johann made light of it. “We don’t know what it was either. As I said we took Bella down to see this prisoner because she helped him when he was captured. The strength of a friendly face seems to have broken whatever spell King Thale used to prevent him from speaking. All evidence of the spell dissipated when it was broken.”
Johann went on a bit too long. Paulus spent the effort to sort it out. Bella held her breath, watching him read the truth spell. He was methodical. It was apparent that he weighed every word, taking nothing for granted. He scowled at Johann. There was enough truth in the statement that the confusion could simply be that nobody knew what the strange source of power was. That much Bella knew to be true. It was her magic, and she didn’t have a clue where it came from.
Paulus spun on his heel and strode down the hallway. Johann waved a hand and slammed the door shut behind him.
Bella slouched even further in her chair. “At least that’s over with.”
Johann’s brows raised higher than she had ever seen them. “For you, perhaps it’s over. If you ever think to do something so foolish again, I hope you’ll at least warn me. I'll probably spend my evening pacifying and convincing Paulus.” Speaking to Dalanor, he said. “My Granddaughter nearly gave her life for you. I trust you’ll keep that in mind when you speak to people.”
Dalanor was pitiful in his eagerness. “Yes Sir. If it’s within my power, I'll protect her.”
“Then since it seems it’s her you want to talk to, I will go to prepare for my duel with Paulus.”
Torel walked out the door with Johann. As he left he ordered, “Shield yourself, Corporal. Do not take chances, no matter how grateful he seems.”
Bella did as ordered. Dalanor jumped to his feet, and walked towards her, only to find himself blocked from getting close. “Lady, I would speak quietly with you.”
“You can shout within this room and nobody will hear it. It’s shielded from all intrusion.” He already knew too much about her. He didn’t have to know Conall was still here.
He glanced about doubtfully then said, “If it’s your wish that I sit across the room and shout to you, I will do so.” 
When she said nothing more he pulled his chair up to the very edge of the physical shield.
She straightened in her chair and said, “I don’t have the slightest idea what we’re supposed to talk about. I’ve been in the military for all of three days now.”
Dalanor was eager to talk. “As I told the wizard. I was sent out to spread word in your country that your Prince is alive.”
“And is he?”
Dalanor hunched his shoulders. “I can’t say for certain. I started in Telgar’s military recently myself. Perhaps not as recent as you, but before that I worked as a prison guard.” Dalanor, stretched his hands toward her shield then knotted them in his lap. “There were political prisoners kept in the lower reaches of Thale’s dungeon. One of those doors was kept locked all the time. He was allowed no visitors. There was a certain time frame his meals had to be delivered in, if they weren’t in the cell by the end a fifteen minute period, he didn’t eat. I was warned that if anything happened to that particular prisoner, the King would have my head.”
Dalanor sunk lower in his seat, cheeks blushing light pink. “I asked what was so important about him and they laughed and called him the prisoner of prophecy. Said the King was going to trade him for a fairy.” The young soldier writhed uncomfortably. “We all had a good laugh, about our Mad King, and since I was not responsible for his meals, I forgot about him until I received an assignment ordering me over the Rortags to search for the King’s imaginary fairy.”
For a long time Bella sat and looked at Dalanor while he said nothing. Finally she prompted him. “And?”
“And-I almost deserted, rather than traverse the mountains. There are horror stories told about the things that live there. I saw no reason to put myself in that much danger for no good reason.” Gray suffused Dalanor’s skin, his lips stretched into a tight frown. “But Thale is not a reasonable man. If somehow he discovered that I deserted, he would have killed my entire family. So I rode with two others over the mountains.”
Bella looked up. “What happened to your companions?”   
Sweat beaded on his forehead as he sat lost in memory. “The Rortags, happened to my companions. There are no roads through them. Packs of wolves, bear, wild cats, and critters that aren’t so normal, and are far more dangerous, roam the heights. We lost one man to a pack of wolves, no offense to your friend, and the second to a landslide. Took him and his horse down a hundred foot drop.” 
He searched Bella’s face and stopped speaking. “I didn’t mean to frighten you, Lady.”
“It’s all right. It’s not you.” She shook as she thought how she was supposed to go through these very mountains in only three months.
Conall reassured her. “I will lead you. I’ll not let harm come to you.”
Bella wished she had half his confidence.
“Anyway, Lady, I found myself in your country, despairing and on a fruitless mission. That’s when your border guards found me. I couldn’t go home. I’d never find a fairy. I was doomed no matter what I did. I didn’t even change my uniform to try to hide. I fought the border guards hoping they’d kill me. You know the rest of my story.”
Bella shook her head. “I don’t know why you seem to have decided that I’m the changeling you were sent to find.”
Dalanor looked puzzled, “Are you not? With the magic you possess… and the shadow you left within me. I felt different, very different. Thale said his fairy would have copper coloration, and you are copper from head to toe.”
Bella laughed. Relief flooded her entire being. “That is what you based your assumptions on? A strange feeling you received from an aura of a woman, and the fact that I have copper hair. You yourself said it. The Commander of the Wizard Corps just declared it, ‘there are no such things as fairies.’”
He scowled but a smile from Bella restored his good humor. 
“Let me tell you my life story and see if you still feel I'm a changeling powerful enough to attract the interest of Kings.” She told him everything about herself. If Captain Torel had heard, he would have been envious of how free she was with information about her past.
When she finished, he said, “You’re right. If you were this changeling you would never have been a slave, but…” He shook his head, “I cannot explain it. The difference in your aura is what caused me to be unbalanced in your absence. It could not possibly have been just the difference between male and female.”
“Perhaps it is the difference between somebody with power and somebody without.”
He shuddered. “I hope you’re right. If you’re the one Thale is searching for, he’ll not stop until he has you. And if I read your Captain’s reaction to my statement by the stables correctly, I’m guessing you’ll be walking straight into the Mad King’s traps. Please be careful, Lady.”
She looked at him long and hard. He was perceptive. She nodded her head, “Not to worry. I do not plan to go anywhere close to your Mad King,” she lied.
A banging at the door told her Captain Torel’s patience had been exhausted. She flicked a weary hand at the door, and it popped open. 
Captain Torel stood framed in the doorway, fist raised to bang again. His wide shoulders nearly obscured Trace. Without a word they entered, leaving the door open. Captain Torel seated himself behind his desk and waved Trace into a chair beside Bella. “Was your time productive?”
She exchanged a steady gaze with Dalanor. “I believe so, Sir.”
“And what do you think we should do with our prisoner?”
This was a test. It had to be. He wanted to know if she was too soft hearted to send a man to the dungeon. She trusted Dalanor as much as she trusted any man, but she didn’t want him free. Not with his suspicions, and his family held hostage in Telgar.
“It’s all right,” Dalanor said, as though reading her mind. “You cannot do otherwise.”
“He must return to his cell,” she told Captain Torel. “Though I would ask, he be treated well. Perhaps some straw for a mattress, another blanket and a pillow.”
When Captain Torel nodded, Dalanor displayed the stoicism of a much older man. “I could ask no more.”
Captain Torel called down the hall. “Sergeant Alva.” 
The rattle of mail announced Robin’s arrival at the open door. “Yes Sir?”
“Find an escort detail to take the prisoner back to his cell. Then you're dismissed for the remainder of the day.”
“Yes Sir.” She stepped into the office and asked, “Where would you like your mail, Sir?”
“That’s Corporal Gunter’s mail now, until she can have her own made. It hasn’t fit me in over fifteen years.” 
Trace took the mail and Sergeant Alva returned to the front desk to send the runner in search of detail personnel.
When Dalanor was gone, Torel turned his piercing gaze on Bella, sitting next to the door. “Close the door, Corporal.”
A breeze wafted across the room and closed the door. A slight twist of her hand sealed it.
Torel watched closely. “Since when do you have so much control?”
“Since my power drained under the earth. It is still weak, so it’s not such a hassle to exert control.”
“Did he tell you anything more definite about my brother?”
Verbatim, Bella repeated Dalanor’s words concerning the prisoner of prophecy, and as much as he had known of the supposed prophecy. 
When she was through, Captain Torel dismissed them. “Thank you for your efforts, Corporal. I must talk with my father. Sergeant Gunter, I’d appreciate it if you could escort your sister to her quarters.”
Bella expected Conall to greet her when she entered the room. She was surprised by his silence and thought he was sulking, until she turned and saw the door. He had scratched huge gouges in it. 
He lay now with his nose in his tail, halfway under the bed, avoiding her accusing glare. “You should not have shut me out,” he sulked. “You are my pack, I feared you needed protection.”
He yelped as she threw a pillow at him. “You feared I might get close to somebody else. I will not tolerate such behavior. Just because you’re in my head doesn’t mean I belong to you. You will not interfere in my life or I’ll cut you out of it.”
He slunk away from the bed and lay down by the door. “Would you like me to go?”
She blocked him from her mind and waited a minute, letting him worry. 
“Bellana?”
“I’m thinking,” she snapped. “If you stay, you must promise there will be no more jealous outbursts. I’m not looking for a mate, but I’m not going to distance other people because my pack cannot behave himself.”
 Conall stood up and slunk back to the bed. His tongue lapped her hand and he lay down again on the floor beside the bed. “I can only promise to try harder.”
“I guess that will have to do. Because I don‘t know what I‘d do without you around now.”
His tail wagged. Two heavy thumps on the floor and he turned soulful grey eyes on her.







Chapter 36



 
She did not see Dalanor again. She could not convince herself to go back underground for any reason. Paulus nosed around for several days but Johann ran interference. Angel pushed her energy levels back to normal. 
Captain Torel made Conall work off the cost of replacing the door. 
With Bella for his voice, the wolf instructed some of the poorer students in swordsmanship. They looked at her as though she were odd when she told them to roll their pants legs up. The first time the razor sharp teeth sliced open their calves they improved in leaps and bounds. These students were ordered not to reveal Bella’s Healing skills.
The next two weeks flew by, one day very much the same as the last. The temperature continued to drop and occasionally there would be small flurries of snow. Captain Torel attended the weapons training sessions when he had the time. Often he picked up a weapon to challenge Bella. Occasionally, the Weaponsmaster joined them.
Bethany had come up with a list of names of Guard members missing from the timeframe when Dorang terrorized the north and it was indeed long. Her initial guess had been an underestimate, Dorang had lived a long and lethal life. Nearly two hundred and forty names ended up on the list, and those were just the King‘s Guards. 
Conall attempted to remember more details. At one point he came up with the memory of others with him when he was transformed. “Our minds were destroyed with the initial transformation so I can’t say who they were, any more than I can say who I was. I remember being with other wolves, who were not wolves. I also remember some of them dying. Why was I cursed with immortality? I try to remember, but nothing comes,” sorrow colored the thoughts he shared.
“My intelligence returned over the years but not my sense of self. I must have done something extraordinary to anger Dorang that I was cursed to live this way forever. He claimed I slew his brother. That knowledge is twisted into the curse, but how can I still be punished for something I don’t even remember doing?”
Bella threw an arm around him and pulled him close.
#
A good number of the younger off-duty Guardsmen accompanied Conall whenever he ventured out. They were enamored of his tale. 
Besides swordsmanship, Conall started teaching his students to move with stealth.
At the end of the second week Bella received a summons from the seamstress and she reported to find the first of her dresses was ready for fitting. A few minor alterations and she took it home with her. 
The following day, Captain Torel met her on her return from breakfast and told her to put the dress on and wait for Tessa. Her lessons in etiquette were about to begin. 
“I do not want you in well populated areas of the palace. Tessa has orders on where to take you. You will spend time each day with her. The time will vary depending on the lesson she has in mind. You will find your schedule shifting about. It is your task to maintain your general military skills.”
When he left, she put the dress on and Conall said enthusiastically, “I don’t know why they call it a wolf whistle because I’m telling you wolves can’t whistle, at times like this I wish I could. You’re beautiful, Bellana.”
Bella’s response was a deep flush of color starting at the roots of her hair. His comment flattered and embarrassed her. She had never wanted more to believe she was beautiful.
“You should not find the truth embarrassing,” he said.
She was saved by a knock on the door. Conall hid beside the bed. Whether Captain Torel trusted this woman or not, she was not Guard and so far he had steadfastly refused to meet anybody who was not. 
Tessa stood, framed by the doorway. She appeared to be about the same age as Bella, but her poise and confidence made it obvious she had grown up within the Courts. Beside her, Bella felt like a country cousin. In keeping with the bright colors the Courts were wearing these days Tessa’s dress was a brilliant sapphire, only outshone by her flame red hair, most of which had been captured in a bun, with small pieces artfully left out, softening her face.
“Now there is beautiful for you,” Bella thought at Conall.
“For all the flame in her hair, she doesn’t hold a candle to you Bella.”
“You’re prejudiced,” she thought to him, but his sentiment pleased her.
Bella was about to leave when Tessa pushed her way in and said, “First things first. You can’t go out in that beautiful dress with your hair looking like you’ve just come from the practice field. Sit on the bed and I’ll fix it.”
Bella heard Conall's claws scrape the floor as he dragged himself under the bed. She went to her chest of drawers and got her hairbrush. “I’m afraid I don’t have much to put hair up with,” she told Tessa. “A simple braid has always served my purposes very well.”
“Not to worry,” Tessa said. “Uncle Torel told me I might need to bring some things so I stopped at the shop on the way out. He said your hair was copper but I wasn’t prepared for it to be that bright. These things will do for now.”
Uncle Torel? Bella was taken aback. She tried to remember the lessons Johann had given her, but that seemed so long ago. She thought he mentioned King Lorth had four sons. One illegitimate. Whose daughter was this? She asked Conall but he remained silent, overwhelmed by the overbearing personality, he didn’t even want to try to get inside Tessa’s head. “Not even surface thoughts,” he darkly answered Bella’s request for information.
Unaware of Bella’s inattentiveness, Tessa laughed, “Won’t we be a pair in the Court?” Nobody else has hair quite as bright red as mine and I’ve never seen any as brilliant as yours, not even on the heads of the women who dye their hair peacock bright. It almost looks like real polished copper. Good thing for us bright colors are in. As usual Mistress Senta did a stellar job matching that dress’s color with your natural skin and hair coloration.”
Tessa continued to chatter as she brushed out Bella’s hair until it glowed. Then she put it up in a style much the same as her own, with a golden barrette across the bun. Bella was trying to decide if she was always this talkative or if she was going out of her way to make Bella feel comfortable. Whichever it was she had a difficult time imagining Tessa as any relation to Captain Torel with his quiet air of authority. She found she liked Tessa, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend a great amount of time with her.
“Follow her example, you will fit in perfectly at Court. Please hurry and get her out of here. This is a tight fit and I don’t know how much chatter I can take without going mad and biting her in the foot,” Conall thought sourly.
Bella couldn’t help but smile. If Tessa noticed, she put it down to something she had just said. Which Bella had completely missed so it was a good thing that apparently the only response required was a smile.
Once her hair was up, Tessa took her hand and led her towards the Palace. They entered by the same door she had used to visit the seamstress, and that was the very first place they went.
Tessa dragged her in the door and bubbled to Mistress Senta, “Brilliant work as usual, Mistress. 
The seamstress beamed with pride as she denied that the work was hers. “Sellene created that one all by herself.  That girl’s got twice the talent I had at that age. She’ll be looking to take over the business in a couple years, and with her talent I may just let her have it. Days like this, with the weather turning, I feel the cold in my hands and can hardly hold a needle.” 
“This dress is, without a doubt, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever worn,” Bella said. And that was the absolute truth. But she felt like a fish out of water. She was used to being invisible, like any servant. Even standing Guard in the Palace it was her job to be a visible presence, representing the King’s safety, but essentially faceless. In this get up she would never be invisible.
The girl under discussion, appeared from the back room and positively beamed. “I’m so glad you like it.” Sellene said. “Grandmamma picked the color, but the design is mine.”
Bella didn’t know what to say. The style was flattering but she would have been much more comfortable with more of her flesh covered. As a slave at Mistress Henna’s her dresses had all been high necked in front dropping off the left shoulder to reveal the brand. But other than that, completely covering her. This one not only didn’t come up to her chin but had a scooped neckline revealing more of her than had ever been seen in public. Compared to Tessa’s dress it was conservative, but she was still uncomfortable. The young girl was waiting for reassurance so she said, “It’s absolutely  beautiful,” and she meant it. The dress was beautiful it was just her being a prude that found anything wrong with it.
“While you’re here, Miss, we need to discuss the two dresses you’ll be getting at the end of winter. Has the Captain mentioned them to you?” Mistress Senta rejoined the conversation.
“Not a word,” Bella said with a sinking feeling.
“Isn’t that just like a man, leave somebody else to do his dirty work. Well Miss there’s good news and bad news. The good news is, the reports he’s gotten from Telgar claim the dresses are much more conservative in color. We can go with that burgundy I wanted for you.”
When she paused, Bella prompted, “But…”
“Well Miss, the bad news is, I wouldn’t let my worst enemy’s daughter dress the way he says their dresses are cut.”
“What exactly does that mean, Mistress Senta?”
The seamstress could not conceal her anguish, but she held up a rough drawing of a gown with the woman’s bosom nearly popping out the top. Both shoulders and everything down to just above the nipples were exposed and the skirt was slit on both sides nearly up to the hips. 
“Tell me this is a joke. I feel exposed in what I’m wearing now. No decent woman would wear that. Where did he get this information? It can’t be accurate.” Bella lived up to her old nickname as she contemplated being seen in something like these dresses. She knew from the heat rising from her cheeks that her face would be a good match to Tessa’s hair.
“Thought you might be feeling that way so I thought I’d better warn you in case he didn’t.”
“Thank you Mistress. Please don’t waste material on those because I’ll not wear them,” the idea of exposing so much flesh distressed her.
“Yes you will,” Conall said. “Haven’t you been learning anything these past two weeks, Bellana? You signed your name to the enlistment orders. If Captain Torel orders you to wear just that dress, you will do so.” He did not sound eager or hopeful. It was not being male that prompted his statement, although she knew he could see the design as she did. He was simply stating the facts of military life. She had known what she’d signed up for, but she’d been coddled along to this point. 
She knew what Conall was telling her without his saying it. It was time to grow up. Captain Torel had spelled out the job before she accepted it, not many got that kind of choice. He had not omitted details purposely. Properly chastised she looked again at the sketches and said, “I guess if this is the style, I must wear it.” 
Mistress Senta snapped her head around to look at Bella as though she‘d grown horns. Nobody else of course knew of the conversation with Conall, and Bella had switched her tone from one sentence to the next.
Tessa had been quiet during this exchange. She stared at the crude drawing and everybody in the room could see her mind working. She wasn’t at all shocked by these dresses she seemed rather intrigued.
Mistress Senta noted her reaction. “Don’t you be getting any ideas little Miss. Your Uncle would kick me back out into the regular marketplace if I even thought about making something like that for you. Not that I could be coerced into making it for anybody, except as in this case it’s on orders. So you just give it up Miss.”
Tessa grabbed a charcoal stick. “I wasn’t thinking about it for me. I’m afraid I’m still too young to set a trend like this around here. But I was thinking if we put some lace here,” and she pointed to the bosom, “and filled the slit with a thin nearly transparent silk, it might be a happy medium between their style and what makes my friend comfortable.”
“Maybe,” Mistress Senta hummed thoughtfully. “Well Sellene, why don’t you see if you can draw up a design that’s revealing but not? There’s your first real challenge as a designer.”
“Yes, Grandmamma, thank you. I know I can make something you’ll like Miss.” Her eyes glowed with the challenge that had been given to her. 
Bella thanked Sellene and Mistress Senta. Then Tessa whisked her out of the seamstress’s shop. They went up the stairs and Tessa returned to her random thread of constant chatter. Bella found she had to concentrate on the words because it was very easy to tune it out, but as soon as that would happen Tessa would be looking at her, expecting a response to something she’d just said. The information Bella was supposed to be learning was hidden in the layers of chatter.
“All of the people you will meet today are somehow related to each other. Torel doesn’t want you seen around open Court, but if you can handle yourself among the scions of the royal family you’ll do well anywhere.” 
They spent an hour in Tessa’s room in front of the largest mirror Bella had ever seen, perfecting her curtsey. Then Tessa dragged her around the hallways telling her who it was appropriate to curtsey to and who it was not required for. 
Essentially in the halls she was in, she would be curtseying to everybody except the servants. Tessa instructed her on the proper way to give orders to the servants and what she was and wasn’t allowed, or expected, to do for herself. Lunchtime came none too soon for Bella. 
They took their places at a long table and stood behind the chairs until the King and Queen were in attendance. As soon as they seated themselves, the rest of the table took their seats with very little fuss or scraping of chairs. There was more silverware at each place setting than Bella ever remembered having had to place for Mistress Henna. Tessa told her what each piece was used for as the proper course arrived. (And this was only lunch).
When the meal finished she became very self-conscious as she noticed more and more eyes settling on her. “What’ve I done wrong?” she whispered to Tessa desperate not to be the center of attention.
The King stood and looked straight at her and said, “My son has told us about your mission and everyone at this table will be praying for your success. We have not dared to hope for the last two years. The information brought by Farren‘s soldiers, should it prove true, will bring great joy to everyone here. Torel seems to think if it is possible for anyone, you will be able to accomplish this mission. We extend our appreciation to you and your companions. If there’s anything we can give you to make this a success we will see to it that you get it.”
He stopped and Bella squirmed under his thoughtful gaze. “You would not be my first choice given your youth and inexperience,” he continued. “But my son, who is an excellent judge of character, assures me you are up to this challenge.” He raised his glass and said, “To a quick journey, success, and a safe return.”







Chapter 37



Everybody around the table raised their glasses and drank deeply. Bella wanted nothing more than to crawl under the table out of sight, but Tessa prompted her to stand up and acknowledge the toast with grace and humility. “Thank you Your Majesty.” she gave him her best curtsey. Well, at least she didn't fall over and totally humiliate herself.
Her unease showed and with the same quick but gentle smile Captain Torel had, he said, “I see my Granddaughter has got her work cut out for her. We don’t bite, and when it’s all family, we’re not formal. If you’re to fit in at your destination you will have to learn to relax around nobles and royalty. You can hardly expect to belong, if you can’t act like you were raised among them. Not a criticism my dear, simple advice. Torel has told me your history, but I’m sure Tessa,” and he granted that individual an indulgent smile, “is up to the task.” 
The Queen stood beside her husband, and they turned to leave, followed by everyone else. Tessa dragged Bella down the hallway, back to her room. "How fantastic was that? I wondered why they showed up for lunch. They rarely take meals with the family. At least not since father…disappeared," she said with a catch in her throat.
Bella came to the sudden realization that this girl, was the daughter of Prince Lorun. Yes…she would see to it that Bella was properly trained. She had a lot riding on this as well.
After another half hour of instruction on how to speak to servants, Tessa said, "That's quite enough for today. Torel told me I had to turn you loose for other duties."
Tessa walked back to the cottage with her. Three Guards outside the barracks, snapped to attention as Tessa and Bella walked by. They remained that way until the two women were out of sight.
Bella warned Conall that she had company and when they went in, he was nowhere to be seen. Bella changed swiftly into one of the solid black uniforms. She had to get down to the stable. Tessa asked what her plans were for the rest of the day.
"Right now I'm going down for equitation lessons, then weapons practice, then this evening, drill and ceremony," Bella told her.
"Do you mind if I come along to the stables? Uncle Torel told me you have the best looking horse he's seen in a long time. I'd like to see him. I promise I won't get in the way."
Bella was uncertain about the protocol of a Royal, traipsing around the compound with a King‘s Guard, but she said, "Certainly you may come along, if it's permitted by your family."
"Would you mind terribly if I used one of your uniforms? That way nobody will notice me, and they'll stop jumping to their feet as I walk by. That gets old fast, for all parties involved, I'm sure."
"Go ahead, you’re only a little bigger than I, and the work uniforms aren’t fitted." 
They both took their hair down and Bella returned hers to the single straight braid down her back, that she had worn since she found herself in the Guard. Tessa followed suit.
"This is certainly more practical for anything except catching a man's eye, than the style we were just wearing," Tessa admitted.
Bella rushed down to the stables and Tessa struggled to keep up. Sergeant Stefan met them at the barn door. "It's about time you showed up,” he said to her. “Your horse is climbing the walls he needs to get out.” He looked at Tessa and asked, “Who's this? We haven't assigned her a horse have we? She can ride the palomino today, he needs exercise. Until I get orders to assign her a permanent mount she’ll have to catch ride whoever needs it." He looked at Tessa and asked, “How well do you ride?" 
"I've had some lessons," she said. 
"Good enough. The palomino's easy. He'll be a good one for me to gauge where you’re at. I'm Stefan." He offered his hand.
"Tess," she returned, shaking his hand in much too dainty a fashion.
They walked down the stable aisle and Bella stopped in front of Angel’s stall. "This is Angel," she introduced him. When she turned to the horse and added, "Angel, this is Tess." Tess looked at her with no little curiosity.
 Tessa examined Angel from the aisle way.
She was dismayed when he examined her right back. “He seems rather intelligent, besides being gorgeous. Uncle Torel was right; he is the best looking horse around. And the King's stables are filled with good-looking horses. I've never seen another like him. He is so beautiful and well balanced. Is he as mean as these signs claim, or do you just not want anybody near him.”
"Believe it or not, when I got him less than a year ago he was considered a runt. He's done a bit of growing since and isn't done. And the signs are not decoration. It is very important that you don't go anywhere near him if I'm not around. Ask a couple of the guys who've had duty down here. They see how he is with me and think the signs are a sham. More than one is sporting a bruise."
To emphasize the point, Angel laid his ears flat back on his head and snaked his nose towards Tessa. Bella reached out and pushed his nose away and told him, “She’s the King’s granddaughter. Don’t you dare.” Then she turned to Tessa who was staring at her with that look common to those, unused to seeing her with Angel. “Let's saddle up before Stefan decides we need to do extra work.” She showed Tessa where the saddles and bridles were, and the unclaimed palomino. After Tessa reassured her that she could get the gelding ready, Bella went and bridled Angel. 
As usual, she did not put a saddle on, but as she led him out the door, Stefan hollered down the aisle way, “Saddle him today.” 
Oh great. I only hope I can remember how to put that thing on, she thought to herself. 
She immediately got a reply from Conall and a reassuring nudge from Angel, “We'll help.” 
She went into the tack room and picked out the saddle she'd been assigned from the masses hanging on the wall. She had touched it before; the Guard required all tack to be cleaned every time it was used and once a week if it wasn’t. So she had cleaned it a couple of times. The leather was soft and pliable, not at all like the saddles in Mistress Henna’s stables had been. 
Those had often cracked and needed repair, Guard equipment needed to be ready for the stress that being ridden into battle would put on it. A broken billet or stirrup leather could mean the difference between surviving and dying on the battlefield.  She inspected the saddle before she removed it from the hook, everything was as she’d left it the last time she’d cleaned it. With a lot of coaching from Conall she managed to place the saddle in the proper place on Angel’s back. Then she grabbed the girth, buckled it on the far side, then returned to the near side and snugged it up until the saddle was firmly held in place. 
When she led him back down the aisle, Tessa was already waiting. Several other people were in the arena warming up their horses. Conall coached her through mounting and somehow she managed to get into the saddle. Bareback was much easier—at least with Angel’s willing cooperation. She had even learned to vault to his back as Captain Torel had that first day, but that didn’t look like a practical way to mount with the bulk of the saddle in the way. 
“It can be done, but you might want to try without an audience the first several times,” Conall told her.
She was uncomfortable in the saddle and it showed. Stefan called for them all to trot. When she saw Tessa she realized the princess was very graceful on a horse. Stefan offered Tessa as much praise as he offered Bella criticism. 
Her knees and calves rubbed and pinched on the unaccustomed bulk between herself and Angel. By the end of the instruction she was humiliated and in pain. Once she dismounted she healed the bruises on her legs but she could do little for the stiffness. Angel snuffled her hair in sympathy but there was little he could do either. She put him away and groomed him, and when Tessa reappeared, she hobbled back to her cottage.
“Torel said you were a great rider, what happened today?” Tessa asked when they were well out of earshot of the other Guardsmen.
“I’ve never ridden with a saddle before. Guess having a great horse isn’t all there is to it. I felt so uncomfortable with so much between him and me. He was uncomfortable as well, which certainly didn’t help anything. I guess I have a lot to learn. I suppose I ought to learn to ride on a normal horse as well, just in case Angel isn’t near me for some reason. I’m not a talented rider,” she confessed. “He just makes me look good. Looks like one more thing to squeeze into my day. You, on the other hand looked great, ‘I’ve had a few lessons’, yeah right. A few lessons a week since you were five years old maybe.”
With a smile, Tessa admitted, “Four years old. I can help you with that too, if you like. This was fun for me today. I know you already get up early but we could use Grandpa’s horses, that way nobody over here needs to know anything about it.”
“That’d be great.”
Tessa changed back into her dress, redid her hair and returned to the palace. When she was gone, Conall once again crawled out from under the bed. “I suppose she’s going to be your best friend now?”
“I don’t know about ‘best’, but yes, a friend,” Bella told him.
“I don’t suppose you could meet her at the palace from now on. Do you have any idea how little I like the underside of this bed.”
“Why don’t you just introduce yourself to her?” Bella asked
“She isn’t Guard, so she’s not under orders to not talk about me. What’s to keep her from gossiping when she sits around with her ladies? She’s very young. She may not intend any harm but she lacks discipline.” 
Bella didn‘t agree with him but she had not lived under a curse for two hundred years, it was not worth arguing about. “Very well, I leave it to your judgment, though she’s not much younger than I.”
“It’s not just my judgment. You’ll notice Captain Torel has not even told his father of my existence. I can only bow to the Captain’s wisdom, and there is more to a person’s age than the years one has been alive. You have been forced to mature because of the life you have led. She is a pampered child.”
 Bella thought back to the luncheon with the king, and said, “Sometimes I forget that you're always in my head. Do you always see and hear everything I do?”
“Only when I’m interested. Which is to say nearly all the time. Except when it wouldn’t be decent for me to be there. Like in the showers, with all the other women.” His tone made her wonder if he did in fact leave her mind at times like that.
“And if I lock you out?”
“You can shield against me, but I wish you wouldn’t. If you ask, I'll leave. If you force me out often enough I'll work around your shields. I have lived two hundred years with the ability to read minds. I have learned my way around normal protections.”  He hemmed and hawed as though uncertain what to tell her. “You, can be in my head any time you wish. Of course the most excitement in my day is swordsmanship training, unless you‘re already with me.”
“That’s interesting, I didn’t realize I could join you in your head.” She concentrated on joining his mind and found herself pulled down, looking at herself from a position near the door. It was very much like astral projection except she was confined within his body. She could sense his mind very clearly, down to the sensation of being cursed to wear a wolf’s form. She retreated to herself and looked at him. “That could be useful since we’re to work together on this mission.  Is there a limit to how close we must be physically?” she asked.
He chewed on a spot on his haunches. When the itch was gone he looked back at her. His mind was filled with uncertainty. “There was at first. You would get half a mile away and be gone. That’s why I kept coming to Dylan’s farm while you were there—even then I didn’t want to lose you.” Teeth returned to his rump, gnawing at the itch. “I didn’t want you leaving without me. The longer we’re together the stronger it’s become. After that little trick Johann pulled with the sealed room. I’m not sure if there is a limit anymore.”
Bella changed into a dress uniform, while Conall turned his head away. “I’m off to drill and ceremony, I wish you could do this for me, instead of just with me, I’ll never get the hang of marching in a group. Everybody else makes it look so effortless.”
“It will come, Bellana,” he assured her. “Just relax and let it happen. Maybe I can help, but you’ll have to give me some control over your body.”
Bella was stunned. “You can do that?” 
“Only if you let me. No I can’t, nor would I if I could, just steal your body and go for a walk. You will still be in control but maybe I can nudge you in the right directions.”
With a grin she said, “We’ll see how badly it goes today. I may call on you.” She opened the door and hurried out, still talking to him.
 The door closed while Conall thought to her, “As you learn these things, I find them comfortingly familiar. Some things have changed through the centuries. I know that, even without memory. As though some things are so ingrained, the body remembers even if the form is different and the mind forgets.”
“We can ask Bethany what changes have occurred in D and C over the centuries. She would enjoy the challenge of researching it.” Bella threw out the acronym for Drill and Ceremony; proud she was starting to figure them out.
Bella rushed to the parade grounds while this conversation was being carried on. When she arrived, she realized she had forgotten her sword, almost everybody else was already in formation. “Conall I need my sword,” she sent to him “Can you get in the chest to get it out?”
“What would you do without me?” he asked with humor.
“I’d be totally lost. Of course if you hadn’t distracted me, I’d have remembered it.”
A few soldiers were still straggling up to the parade field as she started back toward the cottage to meet him. After the door incident, she arranged the latch so that he could get in and out of the cottage on his own, but she was not sure he would be able to get in the chest or carry the sword if he did get to it. She hadn’t gotten half way back when he met her with the sword in its leather sheath carefully balanced in his jaws.
“Thanks,” she thought at him gratefully, grabbing the sword and buckling it on. “Does this ever get any easier?” 
“Give it time Bella, you’ll get there. Most of these soldiers spend three months in basic training before they’re expected to be able to do the things an experienced unit does. The only one expecting you to be perfect is you Bella.” He trailed along after her as she rushed to formation. “They all know that you have come here without training. For you to be selected as such they respect the effort you put into learning. These people are special. They will not ridicule you. If you ask them for help they would be only too glad to give it.”
“Any special candidates in mind for instructor?” she asked with a sigh.
“You might ask First Sergeant Corwin. After all these are his practices you’re messing up.”
She managed to get back in position just as the last stragglers joined them. Her lapse had not gone unnoticed, there were several grins directed her way. Just as the last person fell into formation, First Sergeant Corwin brought them to attention. 
Today she did as Conall had asked; she stayed relaxed and concentrated on staying out of his way. She could feel his light touch guiding her body through the proper motions. She was still in control enough that she managed to humiliate herself a couple of times but overall with his assistance she managed to turn in a much more credible performance than ever before. 
When it was over, she was about to leave for her cottage for yet another change of clothing, back into the solid black uniform for weapons training when she noticed that Conall had remained outside to watch from behind a tree.
“Aren’t you going to ask him?” Conall questioned.
“Now?” she responded, “I must get to weapons training.”
“No time like the present, put it off ‘til tomorrow and you’ll never do it.”
“Captain Torel will be waiting for me.” She was making excuses and Conall knew it.
“He, better than anybody else will understand if you’re a bit late. He knows the schedule you’re on. At least since the advent of Tessa it seems you’re to be left off the duty roster. Turn around Bella.”
She did. And found herself staring straight into First Sergeant Corwin’s chest.
“Did you forget something today, Corporal?” he asked.
“Yes, First Sergeant.” She wanted desperately to stare at the ground, but she had discovered that if a higher ranking individual was already upset with her, attempting to avoid the problem by refusing to meet them head on seemed to infuriate them. She squared her shoulders and returned his steady gaze.
“Would you go to the battlefield without your sword, Corporal?” 
Force of will kept her eyes locked on his. “No, First Sergeant.”
“Do you think that fur ball will always be able to pull your fat out of the fire?”
She thought to herself, Most likely yes, but she gave him the answer she knew he was looking for, “No, First Sergeant.”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“Yes, First Sergeant.”
“He’s done and leaving. Ask now.”
“First Sergeant?”
“Yes, Corporal.”
“The fur ball seems to think I should ask you for personal instruction since I never went through basic training.”
“Good plan, Fur Ball.” He aimed a glance at Conall, “See me tonight, Corporal, after mess, and bring the Fur Ball with you.”
“You better get ready for weapons, Bella. Captain Torel has something on his mind. I can sense his anticipation from here. I think you better be ready for anything.”
“You coming?” she asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it.”






Chapter 38



She hurried into what she hoped was the final change of uniforms for the day and ran to her appointed practice session.
Captain Torel was there, as was Trace, and several other young Guards. The Weaponsmaster leaned nonchalantly against the wall. Bella’s eyes noted that in spite of his seeming distance from events, the Weaponsmaster was in fact armed with a wooden weapon. Captain Torel drew his sword and came at her the moment she walked through the door. This was not a new tactic; she was ready for it, even though she was winded. The sparring weapon she‘d just picked up from the rack came up to block the attack.
 Trace stood from where he had been and came at Torel. Bella knew this game; Trace was her partner, though they had not yet fought together. From the sidelines another soldier peeled off and leapt to Captain Torel’s defense. Captain Torel backed out of it letting the others wear them down. Trace shifted around and stood back to back with her, they were a formidable pair. One by one the other soldiers fell, marked by the wooden practice swords with crippling or death blows. 
She caught her second wind as they fought, but still she tired, it had already been a long day. She faltered and was struck in the thigh. Not a deathblow, or enough to put her out, but to play by the rules of the game she now had to lose the mobility of that leg. Trace was still behind her, winded and injured, but alive. 
Their opponents fell until only Captain Torel still stood in front of them. Now was when the Weaponsmaster chose to join the fray. Bella sagged in desperation, then soared with joy when she caught a flash of motion from the door and the Weaponsmaster, found himself pinned under two hundred and fifty pounds of grinning wolf. Captain Torel was startled enough by this move that he dropped his guard just long enough for Trace to score on him.
“Get him off,” the Weaponsmaster panted.
“Still think they need more work?” Torel laughed at the man struggling to breathe under the wolf’s weight.
“Thanks Conall, but maybe you better let him up now,” Bella thought with a grin.
The Weaponsmaster moved with caution as he stood, eyeing the wolf standing before him.
“Good tactics,” he said, holding his hand out to Bella. 
She shook her head and said, “They weren’t mine.”
The Weaponsmaster looked at Trace, he also shook his head.
Conall sat on his foot and he looked down at the wolf in surprise. He looked back at Bella and received her nod of acknowledgement—the victory did indeed go to the wolf. 
The Weaponsmaster grinned, “Well I’ll be. With planning like that, I reckon you’ll be as safe as you would with any old campaigner.” He knelt down beside Conall and held a hand under his chin, searching the depths of the gray eyes. As though if he looked deep enough, he could see through the outer layer to the soldier beneath. “I sure would like to know who you were,” he said, his voice hushed. “It’s not often I get beaten at my own game.”
“I had a distinct advantage by knowing what he was going to do,” Conall thought to Bella, “but don’t tell him that. People might not be so friendly if they knew I could read their minds. Besides it can’t hurt to let them think I’m just so wise and wonderful.”
“Our secret,” she promised.
Conall moved off the Weaponsmaster’s feet and curled around Bella’s legs. “You three are just one surprise after another aren’t you?” Captain Torel asked. “Quite frankly, I’m surprised he didn’t bring the horse with him.”
Conall looked up at him and grinned. Angel appeared in the doorway, “Always keep a surprise or two in the wings.”
Captain Torel just shook his head. “I should have known.” 
“Cool down, then go get cleaned up for supper. Corporal Gunter, I need to see you this evening.”
“Sir, I have an appointment with First Sergeant Corwin just as soon as I’m through with mess.”
“What’s that about, Corporal?”
“I requested further instruction in Drill, Sir. My skills in that area are lacking, just a bit,” she admitted with a rueful grin.
He smiled knowingly, and nodded. “Very well then, see me when you’re through. Find Sergeant Gunter and bring him and the General with you,” he said with a laugh; pointing at Conall. 
Sleep was looking further and further away, disappearing over the horizon like the ships her father sailed on. With forced good cheer she said, “Yes sir,” saluted and dragged herself back to the cottage to clean up for supper. 
To make it worse it was getting very cold now at night. Covered in sweat, she shivered as she made her way back to her cottage. Conall trailed at her heels and thought to her, “I wish there was something I could do.”
The water in the washbasin had a thin layer of ice covering its surface, but she felt so dirty she wanted to at least wash face and hands before she ate. She looked forward to a warm shower that night, but rather imagined it would be a long time coming, she only hoped there would be some hot water left. She trudged to the mess hall. Conall followed at her heels. He did not hide his concern for her flagging strength; this had been a long day. 
Was it just lunchtime when the King himself had toasted to the success of her mission? Conall rubbed his head on her hand as she walked, shoring up her fatigue as best he was able. He did not often go to the mess hall, but when he did, he attracted a lot of attention and tonight was no different. He distracted them to allow Bella to finish her meal and depart with as little interaction as possible. 
She slipped out of the mess hall and went to the First Sergeant’s office. He looked up, acknowledged her presence and condition, and looked back down at his books. “Corporal, I’m too busy tonight, see me tomorrow evening, unless you would like me to assign somebody else to instruct you.”
“Tomorrow evening will be fine, Sir,” she responded with some small enthusiasm.
As she turned to leave she caught the thought from Conall, “A wise leader knows when a soldier has had too much. And that man is very wise.” He brushed against her leg as they went out the door. “You did well in Torel’s little surprise combat but it has taken a lot out of you. We must work on endurance in the future.”
She didn’t hear any undertones of criticism in that thought, it was a simple statement of fact.
“Captain Torel is also a wise leader. He will not keep you long. Then we will sleep.”
“My room is freezing cold, I wish I had started a fire earlier,” Bella thought with a sigh.
Conall dashed off without explanation and returned moments later from the direction of the mess hall with Trace in tow.
The desk sergeant announced them and ushered them back to Torel’s office. With Conall in the room, the effect was milder than it had been when he had been over a mile away in the forest. Captain Torel didn't look at all surprised to see them walk in the door early. 
As they entered, he said, "Sit down please. The two of you did very well tonight. One might think you'd been brother and sister your whole lives, but I need you to work together more. I want you to be able to know what each other is thinking, what your favorite foods are, favorite colors, be able to finish each other’s sentences like twins joined at the hip,” he stood and paced before continuing. “I was quite impressed with the way Trace leapt to your defense in the salle that was not under orders. He was the only one who was not told what was going on. He is as smart as I’d hoped he'd be."
Glancing at the wolf sitting by the door, he said, “Conall is going to be an important member of your team. He out schemed the Weaponsmaster. That's not easy, and will undoubtedly be harder next time, and there will be a next time. I know the schedules you have been put on are full. Bella you look about ready to drop. Tomorrow Tessa won't have quite so much of your day.”
His full attention turned on Bella. “Speaking of Tessa. Stefan tells me we have a talented, new pupil with flame red hair riding catch horses. He wanted to know when Tess was going to be assigned a permanent mount. He also said that you and your mount looked off today. Would you care to explain any of this?"
Bella was too weary to tell anything but the truth. "Tessa wanted to ride. She said she was bored and wanted a chance to get out from under the watchful eyes of the palace. If she's not safe in the middle of the King's Guards compound then she isn't safe in the palace either. She wore one of my uniforms so she was less recognizable. It would have been difficult to ride in what we were wearing when we arrived from the palace.”
Trace snorted with laughter, but choked back the words Conall sent her anyway. 
“He almost said, ‘At least you’d have an excuse’, but he’s  not stupid enough to say that.”
Bella glowered at Trace. “As for my sorry performance,” she gave a disheartened shake of her head. “Did Stefan tell you he made me use a saddle? I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my life. Angel wasn't pleased with it either.” She sunk down into her chair. “Considering that neither of us has ever used one before, we thought we did good just getting it on right. Of course, even that took instruction from Conall. Tessa has agreed to teach me to ride in a saddle when nobody's around, in the King’s Stable. That will also give me exposure to riding other animals without embarrassing myself too badly."
Smiling, Captain Torel said, "I guess you and Tessa are getting along well then. I was afraid you might find her overwhelming. I don't mind her riding the horses.” He put a lot of thought into his next words. “I would prefer to have her come with you to weapons practice. I've been after her mother to let me teach her to defend herself since her father disappeared. Her mother seems to think it is not ladylike.” Captain Torel drew a hand down his clean shaven chin. “I also think, the woman believes that if Tessa can handle a weapon she'll go running off to defend the world the next time there's trouble. Then she will be left with nothing." Fingers drummed the desk absently. “Tessa has access to all the horses she could want. But I would like her to know how to handle a sword and a bow. If you could convince her to attend those sessions with you, I would be grateful.”
Bella was uncertain if he expected a response. He seemed to be working it out in his own mind rather than discussing it with her, but she had to ask. “And if her mother finds out?”
Captain Torel pulled his mind back to the conversation and smiled. “She won’t. Tessa won’t tell her. If Elenora wants to know why you’re spending so much time with her daughter outside the palace, you’ll be riding with her. It is a very good idea for you to learn to ride other horses. And you’ll need to be able to use a saddle without crippling yourself. It would be a very good idea for her to teach you to ride sidesaddle as well.” 
He turned his attention back on Trace. “I know I don’t have to impress upon you the importance of this mission. I will however, impress upon you the fact that there will be nobody except each other to help you once you leave the soil of Ronan behind. You’ll be Swordtwins before you depart. Starting tomorrow, with the exception of the time each of you spends at the palace, the two of you will have all of your training sessions together, and take all your meals together. Trace, you're dismissed."
With a glance towards Bella to see how she took this information, Trace snapped a salute and left.
"Bella I've been putting off addressing one issue you’ll need to be aware of. I don't know any other way to put it, but the clothes worn by women in Telgar are something less than a decent woman would wear. I don't know what to say, you’ll have to wear them to blend."
"It's all right, Captain," she let him off the hook and he gave a sigh of relief. "Tessa and I stopped by Mistress Senta's this morning and we saw the sketches. Sellene is going to see what she can do to make them more modest, such as a small landholder’s third daughter from way out by the border might wear, but still be in style with the Court. I can’t say that it pleases me to even consider wearing them… We agreed to take on this task, I’ll wear the dresses. I suppose I’ll also need a riding outfit because I'm quite certain I won't be able to ride in those dresses."
Heaving a sigh of relief, and looking a bit surprised, he glanced at Conall as though guessing the source of her acceptance. "Yes, of course. I’ll see to it. Go ahead and get cleaned up, and get some sleep. You may sleep in, in the morning. Tessa said she’d be taking you to breakfast at the palace. I’ll be expecting you at weapons training just as soon as you're through there. Then horsemanship, and drill, we will try to work your schedule for a minimum number of wardrobe changes. It seemed like every time I saw you today, you were in something different."
"That would be good, Sir.” She came to attention, snapped a salute and said, “Good night, Sir."
Conall rose with her, and as one they left the office. As she opened the front door she was hit by an icy blast of air. She shivered and hurried to her cottage. Starting a fire in the hearth, and wrapping a cloak tightly around her shoulders, she hurried to the showers.
 The showers had been a pleasant surprise for Bella. She had seen other places with piped water during their travels but if you wanted warm, you took a bath and the innkeeper’s servants would fill it with water heated on the fire. 
The Guard showers were set up to pipe water into some large copper cylinders which sat in the sun and heated all day. At the end of the day there were hot showers. Out of courtesy most people took very short showers. Especially this time of year when in order to get the cylinders heated a fire was lit underneath them just before suppertime. It took a long time to heat the cylinders this way. 
Bella felt filthy so she lingered a bit longer than normal, scrubbing away the exertions of weapons training. She smiled as she thought of the Weaponsmaster trying to come up with a plan to defeat Conall's strategy. She had not even told Torel that Conall was capable of picking up surface thoughts from other people.
"You could too if you wanted to let me take you there,” she heard. 
Now that was an intriguing thought. One that could be useful in Telgar. How better to find out information than to read it from their minds?
"You can only reach the surface so you would have to still mention things that would make them think of what you want to know and that could be suspicious.”
She toweled herself off and got dressed in a clean uniform. Bundling back into the cloak, which now that she was clean she could tell needed to be washed, she ran for her cottage. The fire had just barely started to take the chill off and she dove under the covers. "I'm going to have to keep the fire going all day from now on. It is getting too cold."
Conall agreed.
"Sometimes I wish I had a fur coat like yours."
"It helps, but it's still cold. And a poor exchange for a warm bed."
"How would you know? You're not telling me you remember sleeping in a warm bed."
He hesitated, not sure if she‘d appreciate the truth. "I've been sleeping on yours when the floor is cold and you've been elsewhere. I'll stop if you don't want me to, but then some blankets would be nice."
"I'm sorry,” she said, with remorse. “For all your human qualities sometimes I guess I still treat you like an animal. I never thought about it. I'd be glad to have a foot warmer tonight if you want to sleep up here.”
"It wouldn't be proper Bellana.”
Her impulse was to laugh, but she stifled it, not having the least desire to sting him emotionally. "What's improper? You're a wolf. If you can squeeze yourself up here you're welcome to do so. I know I can use the body heat.”
"Bellana, do not tempt me.” Conall thought to her with an emotion in his thoughts she’d never felt there before. “ I find myself having thoughts about you that would not be proper if I were human, and as a wolf they are positively indecent.”
That gave her pause; she had never considered him as anything other than her friend and confidant. Since he mentioned it, she could see him being the man she‘d waited for, if only he weren't a wolf. “None the less it is simply not possible for them to be anything more than thoughts. I would trust you with my virtue even if you were human. Get that body heat up here.”
He slunk into the bed, and curled up into an impossibly compact ball covering her feet and legs from the knee down. “If the day should ever come that I'm human, you will see how little virtue I have. I love you Bellana.”
"Promises, promises,” she said, keeping her tone lighthearted. "Just wait until you’re human and incredibly handsome, and can have your pick of any woman in existence.”
"Still I would want none but you.” 
His tone was serious. She didn't know how to respond to a statement like that, so she avoided it, saying, "Good Night, Conall.”
She did not sleep for some time. She knew he was in her mind, yet she couldn’t respond to his comments without examining how she felt about him. She didn’t want him following her every thought, but his earlier statements brought the fact that he knew her intimately, home. Could he be reading more from what was in her mind than she did? He stirred down by her feet and she closed her mind, shielding tightly. For once he seemed content to allow her privacy.
If he knew her so well why would he say something like he had if he didn’t at least have some belief she returned his affection. She had never consciously thought of him as anything more than a friend. Even that he had forced into her mind, stepping up the change from simple companion to friend, his disappointment making her aware that that he wished to be thought of as more than a companion.
Could this be another attempt on his part to manipulate her feelings. She examined her own mind, dredging up emotions and thoughts her days were too filled to even consider. She liked having him around. She enjoyed the closeness the mental link formed--most of the time. He was always there at her side or in her mind, eager to please.
But he had his own agenda. He wanted his natural form back. Of course he was eager to please the one person in two hundred years who could hear him.
His jealousy was frustrating and ill-placed. She had no interest in any male, beyond friendship. Why was he so obsessive?
But he had just answered that. Hadn’t he. If he truly believed himself to be in love, then he would not be happy if she sought out another lover. 
If he knew her mind so well he should realize she had no interest in men beyond friendship.
Then again, he could look into the minds of men and see where their interests lie.
Did that mean Captain Torel had other thoughts in his head as he carried her up the steps from the dungeon? It would account for Conall tearing up the door.
But Torel had stated he would not consider pursuing anybody under his command, Robin made it perfectly clear that he held this policy with everyone. So even if the thoughts were there, Conall should realize they wouldn’t be acted upon. How ridiculous it was to even think a Prince would look at her as anything more than a brief affair anyway. The citizens of Ronan would not allow anything more between one of their royalty and a runaway slave, and Conall should know her well enough to realize she did not want a brief affair with anybody. 
Did this jealousy indicate a lack of confidence in his ability to read every thought in her mind? Or did he think her shallow enough she would jump at the chance to bed a Prince.
She tormented her own mind, searching for conclusions long into the night, and decided that it was likely she did feel more than she should for an animal. 
Then again, he wasn’t really an animal, and the time they spent with each other was more than most married couples spent together. Even if it wasn’t possible to have a physical relationship, he probably had reason to hope she could return the love he declared. The way she saw it she had three choices. She could admit there was a chance she returned his affection, and hope that someday they could break the spell. She could admit that she liked him more than she ought, but realized it could never be a physical relationship, or she could ignore his declaration of love and continue as they had for the past months.
She decided on the last course of action. He would see whatever he chose to see in her mind. She couldn’t stop him from interpreting her thoughts to suit himself; but she would not consciously encourage him to think of them as lovers. She was not going to tie herself to somebody who may never regain human form. But she wasn’t going to throw his emotions back in his face and discourage him, her own were too strong to deny, even if she chose not to acknowledge them.
Nothing would change unless Johann managed to figure out how to change Conall back into a human. 
Bella could feel the tension in Conall’s body, he did not sleep either. She relaxed her shields and immediately felt him invade her mind, searching for answers.  She expected disappointment, but as the tension eased from his body, all he told her was, “As long as I didn't frighten you away. I did not say what I did, in expectation that you could return my love. I would not have you grow old and gray waiting for a miracle that may never happen. I said it only because it is the truth of my feelings and nothing is ever likely to change that.”
She breathed a sigh of relief, perhaps with that discussion over, he would stop his insane jealousy.
His next words brought no reassurance as he once again answered her unvoiced thoughts. “I’m sorry. I acknowledge your emotions, but mine are a slave to two hundred years of instinct, and I cannot remove the thought from my mind that you are my mate. I will try to control my jealousy if it disturbs you so much. But I can’t make it go away.”
Bella sighed and sank into the relaxation exercise Johann had taught her, to seek her aura. She cleansed all conscious thought from her mind and fell asleep contemplating the brilliant white of her aura. She noted with satisfaction that the red color which had so disturbed Baltor had again faded into anonymity.
#
Even though Captain Torel had said she could sleep in, she awoke early the next morning. 
With her first stirring, Conall shifted off her feet but remained at the end of the bed. She got up and added some wood to the fire, then got dressed. She tried to do her hair as Tessa had the day before, but in frustration at the unwieldy mass she braided it as usual and doubled it up to catch it with the golden barrette making it the tiniest bit more acceptable than just hanging. 
She was sure Tessa would disapprove but it would get her across the Guard compound without looking like a complete bumpkin. She was going to have to get Tessa to teach her how to do something with her hair. As a slave she had always kept it braided so it didn't interfere with her work. Traveling with Johann she had always kept it either under a scarf or blowing in the wind. Since she signed up with the Guard, she had returned to keeping it braided, she had never had to learn how to do anything with it. Yet another thing she was inept at.  
A contented sigh from the bed brought her the fleeting thought, "I like it loose, and blowing in the wind.”
"So do I,” she agreed. “It gives me a feeling of freedom.”
By the time she had finished the futile attempt of doing something with her copper locks, it was time to meet Tessa. She hurried across the Guards compound and in the door she and Tessa entered the day before. Outside, a mass of soldiers headed to the mess hall. On this side of the door, the hallway was quiet. 
She didn’t wait long before Tessa came bouncing down the hallway, entirely too cheerful for this time of the morning. Tessa took one look at Bella’s hair and dragged her off to her room to fix it. 
“This will be quick, but after we eat we’re going to be in here until you get it right.”
Two hours later she could do a fair job of putting her hair up and had been inundated with other details of Court etiquette. Then it was her turn. She dragged Tessa off to the salle as Captain Torel had requested. Tessa looked curious when they passed the stable but she went along willingly. Captain Torel had brought her a shield and helm. She proved to be an enthusiastic, if unskilled, weapons trainee.
#
The next two months passed in a flurry.
Bella became skilled at the nuances of life within the palace walls and Tessa became at least competent with a bow and a sword although after several tries with throwing knives Captain Torel decided that she was more hazardous to her friends than her enemies and they dropped that from her list of skills. 
With only two weeks left until their planned departure day, Bella began to get nervous. 
Her riding skills had improved considerably, she could now, not only sit in a saddle, she could do so on nearly any horse handed to her. 
She and Trace couldn’t have been closer or more familiar with each other if they had truly grown up in the same household. 
With Conall’s assistance, they defeated every ambush the Weaponsmaster scheduled.
 A touch of magic from the Wizard Corps gave Trace the Telgarn language, and Sellene had come up with a design that was more modest than the sketches Bella had viewed earlier in the winter, but would still fit tolerably well with the current Telgarn styles. The dresses had been completed. 
Bella modeled them for Sellene and Tessa, but with their assurance that they fit as well as they could, she refused to model them for anyone else. She liked the riding outfit. Not that it was practical, but it covered more than the dresses. It at least had to be designed to keep things where they belonged while riding sidesaddle.
Bethany managed to narrow the list down to exclude about sixty of the Guardsmen that had disappeared during Dorang’s lifetime. Either the location they had disappeared from was wrong, or she found reports of personalities that were vastly different from Conall’s. This still left a large number, but Bethany promised to keep digging through texts and enlistment records. 
Winter warmed quickly into spring. Bella and Trace packed their gear. They would be met by a member of Trace’s old unit at Dylan’s farm. He would provide them with Telgarn tack, and resupply them as they entered enemy territory. 
They were leaving with a goodly amount of gold and silver and copper coins, which had been stamped in Telgar. They also carried more money than she had ever possessed in local currency. They had memorized the portrait of Prince Lorun. And with no further reason to delay, one fine spring morning, before first light, with King's Guards on the gates, two riders and a wolf disappeared unnoticed to the north.








Chapter 39




After a swift three week journey, with Conall running point to avoid meeting anybody on the road, Bella and Trace dismounted in front of the small white clapboard house belonging to Dylan and Valla Marner.
Dylan’s son Jon flew down the three wooden steps and slid to a halt a respectful distance from Angel. When Bella moved away from the large black horse he ran up to her, talking like she hadn’t been gone for nearly half a year. Pestering her to practice swordsmanship with him. 
“I’m much better now,” he bragged. “Now I’m nine years old and much stronger.” And so he proved to be.
A growth spurt in the past six months had left him almost as tall as Bella. His reach was as long as hers, but he had not been training under the King’s Guards, and he lacked the natural speed Bella had. He had not improved nearly as much as she had since they last sparred. She could easily have defeated him every time, but to encourage him, she let him win occasionally, and sometimes she enlisted him to challenge Trace. 
Three days later, they just finished a match against Trace--Bella was laughing as she braided her copper curls back into some semblance of control, when Dylan returned from patrol. 
Bella finished putting her hair up and hugged Dylan. In her mind, Conall growled at the familiarity. Bella shushed him and threatened to shield against him. 
Dylan was surprised to find Bella and Trace at his farm and remembering how Johann had insisted on avoiding the King‘s soldiers before, he warned them, “As I turned down my path, there was a soldier coming down the road. He looked lost and may even be coming here.”
“That’s all right,” Bella told him. “He’s coming to see us.”
They had no gear marking them as soldiers or King's Guards, and Dylan opened his eyes wide in surprise. 
“Yours was the only place either of us knew of to arrange a meeting this far north and west, other than in a town and we wanted to avoid being seen.” Trace told him. “Some of the soldiers of my old unit have friends within the border guard so they knew how to find you out here. Seemed like the logical place to meet. If it’s a problem we can ride out to him.” 
“No, I trust Bella with my life,” Dylan responded. “I was just concerned because this soldier is carrying Telgarn gear, though he wears the livery of Ronan. And when Bella and Johann were here last, Johann took off like his tail was on fire when the soldiers were coming to pick up their prisoner.”
“That’s grandfather for you,” Trace laughed.
With a smile, Bella said, “The gear is for us. As soon as he arrives, we’ll be leaving to go through the mountains into Telgar. More than that I can’t tell you.”
The conversation took a swift change of direction. Dylan knew enough to know he didn’t need to know any more. “I see you’re riding Angel now,” he said. “He just keeps getting bigger and better looking.”
“Yes, everybody admires him and fears him all at the same time.”
“Temperament hasn’t changed then,” Dylan smiled. “I still haven’t figured out what he is, but he’s way too smart to just be your run of the mill horse.” Turning his attention to Trace, he said, “I’m guessing since he called Johann, Grandfather, this is the brother that you and Johann were going to Relante to look for. Not that I’m seeing much family resemblance.”
Smiling, Bella said, “Yes, this is Trace, but he’s only my adopted brother.”
“I see the resemblance to Johann in him. To tell you honestly,” Dylan said, “I never could see the slightest family connection between you and Johann. Adoption would certainly answer that question. I owed you too much when you were here last to ask any questions that would sound like I doubted what you’d told me. But your coloration more resembles the people of southern Swadan than that of your grandfather.”
Turning to the house, where Valla was coming out to greet her husband, Bella admitted, “Originally I’m from northwest Swadan, but I haven’t lived there in a long time.”
Trace was single-mindedly intent on the task at hand. “When we leave here, we have some things we will need to leave behind.”
Valla walked up to them and joined the conversation, saying, “Just leave what you need to in one of the stalls you’ve been staying in.”
They all walked to the barn and waited for Jasper.
He arrived shortly after Dylan, unknowingly escorted by Conall. 
The wolf waited unseen in the forest by the trail while they saddled their horses with the tack Jasper brought. They didn’t ask where the equipment came from. It looked rich enough that it had probably once graced the backs of some minor noble’s horses, but there was nothing distinctive about it.
“Once you’re through the mountains, you might want to pick up a sidesaddle for your sister, Trace. I couldn’t get my hands on one, but these should get you by until you get closer to the Royal Court.” Jasper opened his packs and brought out some daggers and swords made in Telgar. “It’s not all that unusual for border women to ride astride. However, even if you have to buy it, she should have one before she gets to Court.”
Handing the weapons to Trace and Bella he apologized. “Nobody told me when I collected these weapons just how tiny your sister was, but these will have to do.” With a sidelong glance at Dylan he said, “If your mission involves what I think it does, you don’t want to jeopardize it by something as small as incorrect appointments. Find things that fit her once you‘re over the mountains.” 
Lewdly he added, “I must say though, I wouldn’t mind seeing your sister in the clothing they wear at Court in Telgar. She’s a fine looking woman Trace. How could you be quartered with us for nearly two years and never once mention her?”
When he spoke of seeing Bella in the clothing of the Telgar Courts, a low growl arose from the forest. Trace heard it, and jokingly, he said, “Because Jasper, I’ve known wolves with better manners than the lot of you.”
“I can’t believe Trace ever thought of taking you to be with those men,” Conall said.
“Jasper was joking,” she thought to him in exasperation. His jealousy seemed a form of insanity to her. At least it was driving her crazy.
“You forget, I can read minds. He may be joking, but his words are not far from his heart. I would not trust you with them.” 
“Thoughts are not actions,” Bella admonished. “This is a good and loyal soldier--you cannot penalize him for having thoughts. Only if he acts on those thoughts.”
“Where you’re involved, I can penalize anything I want to,” Conall grumped to her with no room for argument in his tone.
“When I first went back to see my grandfather and sister in Relante, I applied to have her join our unit.” Trace told Jasper, “Fortunately for me, she caught the eye of a higher ranking officer and she got me transferred to the unit she was assigned to.”
They gave a gold mark to Valla to pay for their keep and handed the rest of the gold and silver that had been stamped in Ronan to Jasper, to be given to his unit. Then with warm handshakes and hugs, they rode off toward the Rortags.
#
This far north, frost still coated the ground every evening. The mountaintops in the distance were covered with snow glistening in the sun. They were beautiful, but Conall assured her they were also quite deadly this time of year. The melting snow would cause flooding and avalanches. 
“Other than dead in the middle of winter, this is the most dangerous time of year to pass through them,” Conall said. “Winter storms around here come up quicker than thought. The first winter storm usually closes the passes and they stay that way until spring.” He returned from scouting ahead to trot alongside Angel. “We may still be early to get through some of the higher elevations. If we have to wait I know caves and a couple of abandoned cabins scattered throughout. I'll keep you safe Bella. Nobody knows these mountains better than I.”
“I trust you to do that,” she said.
She relayed to Trace what she had just been told. His right hand pushed the blond hair behind his ears as he looked at the peaks. His brow furrowed and he glanced at Conall with a frown. “Does he think we’ll be delayed?”
“He’s not sure. He claims to know places we can stay if we find an uncrossable pass.”
“We’ve already delayed too long. If Lorun is still alive, every day is that much closer to being his last. He has been in captivity a long time.”
“We can only do our best,” Bella said. “We have beautiful spring weather and a nice easy ride for the moment. Until trouble comes along I'm going to enjoy the ride.” 
The foothills they were riding through were just starting to turn green with the bright new colors of spring. They could hear the chirps of new life in the trees and wild animals were plentiful. They would have to take care while hunting for their supper not to deprive a young new life of its sustenance.
 Her bow was tied to her saddle and her sword, slung over her back, the pommel rising from behind her head. Her dagger was belted firmly to her left side and her throwing knives holstered under the sleeves of her tunic. Even in Telgar, women did not travel the wilds unarmed. 
Perhaps it would be a more accurate assessment to say especially in Telgar women did not travel the wilds unarmed. The general economic condition of the country gave rise to excessive numbers of bandits. Only a fool traveled unarmed unless you were in one of the few areas the military patrolled regularly. Even there, the military being more of a bodyguard for the royal tax collectors than protectors of the citizens, you weren’t likely to find much help.
The sun was setting when she realized she could hear the roaring of the Timona River. The Timona was the boundary between Telgar and Ronan. They would make camp here, spending a final night in their homeland. Tomorrow was a whole new world, and not one Bella was eager to explore.
With camp set up and a fire started, Trace went hunting for supper. As long as game was plentiful they would conserve their trail rations.
“The river is high,” Trace said, while they were eating. “I hope Conall knows a ford. Details from this area are very sketchy. With the border always embattled not many people cross into the mountains here so there are no maps.”
Bella opened her mouth to say something but snapped it shut. She lost this battle with Torel, and Conall kept reassuring her they would remain far away from the Earth Shaker. Tales of monsters was the reason this land was not mapped.
Trace waited for her to speak. When she didn’t he continued. “If we have to spend time looking for a place to cross we could spend a week or a month traveling the wrong direction."
"Relax Trace, Conall’s lived in this area for over two hundred years. Even if parts of that time aren't reliable in his memory, if he claims to know the best way through the mountains, he will get us through." 
“Thank you for your confidence. I'll try not to let you down," Conall thought to her. 
When supper was cooked, she gave a rabbit to Conall and she and Trace split the pheasant he‘d shot. She tended to Angel while Trace groomed the sweat from his horse. They cleaned their tack and lay down to sleep. Conall stayed in close to camp. Trace lay on one side of the fire and Bella the other. When they were settled, Conall came in and lay down beside Bella, stretching out to warm her, a living, breathing, fur blanket, on the side away from the fire. 
She threw the top blanket over him. She was aware from time to time that he was not sleeping and he would become intensely alert at some noise too slight for her to hear. The warmth and comfort of having him there beside her was well worth the minor disturbance to her sleep.
Early the next morning she got up and made a quick breakfast for the three of them. Trace awoke as she was returning from filling the water skins. She considered washing, but decided it would wait for that evening. She had the feeling she was going to be spending quite enough time in the frigid spring runoff overflowing the banks of the Timona. 
They put out the fire and spread the ashes. Bella used a touch of magic to cover the fact that anybody had ever been there. Then they saddled the horses and Conall led the way upstream.
The banks were steep and the current swift. The landscape gentled gradually and on the far side they could see the bank had become nearly level with the surface of the river. The Timona widened out and then the bank on their side became a gentle slope down to the river.
"Here is where you must cross," Conall said.
"Here! I can't even see the other side," Bella exclaimed aloud, to alert Trace of what was being said.
"This valley is wide and gentle, the horses will not have to swim until nearly the center. In summertime this is less than half the width and I can walk across it without swimming.” Conall said, “You must be sure to come out on the other side before the river turns south. Over towards the end of the valley the bank is eroded.” He led the way further upriver, “With the current as strong as it is, the horses will be carried quickly downstream when they swim. You must start as far towards the mouth of the valley as you can."
She relayed the instructions to Trace, word for word and while he looked doubtful he dismounted and began to wrap everything tightly inside waterproof packs. Bella did the same.
When all their gear was tied tightly to the saddles, Bella removed her boots, tunic, and cloak. She hiked her pants legs up over her knees and rolled the sleeves of her shirt to her shoulders. Her sword, bow, quiver, boots and tunic, she wrapped into the cloak and tied this unwieldy bundle to the pommel of the saddle. She had no delusions that anything would arrive on the other side dry, but she hoped to keep these items from the worst of it. They rode towards the mouth of the canyon and found the place where the slope first became gentle and started across. Angel went willingly and Buck, Trace’s horse, followed his lead. Buck, seemed to have reservations about this venture. 
They were several hundred feet from the shore when her feet first started to get splashed. The chill sent a shiver up her spine. Angel seemed to have a good feel for where the bottom was so she let him pick his own way. That put them further east but she hoped he was traveling this way to stay with the lower water. Trace kept Buck carefully on the same path Angel took. The other shore came into view and they were still walking, but the water was over Angel’s belly. Buck, started to struggle with the current. Angel stopped, refusing to go forward and then turned back to the west, heading upstream into the current. This was almost more than Buck could handle, but he pushed on.
 No longer able to avoid the need to swim, Angel turned his body northeast and plunged into water too deep to walk through. Buck fought Trace briefly and then he too was swimming. Angel swam strongly, and quickly gained purchase on the other side, where he could once again walk. 
Trace struggled against Buck’s natural desire to turn back to safe ground and found himself being carried rapidly downstream. 
Bella saw Buck swept off by the current and Angel turned back into the depths swimming strongly with the current to catch the floundering gelding. Angel turned back to the depths swimming behind Buck and biting his rump. Buck heaved around, obeying Trace’s tugs on the reins, and swam forward across the current.
Angel turned again toward the northern shore and followed Buck. The bend in the river approached quickly and Bella urged Angel on. She grabbed his mane and floated off his back to remove her weight from the awkwardness of swimming, Angel surged forward, his hoofs scrambling for purchase on solid ground. 
His legs shook as he stood with his nose barely above the level of the water. Bella floundered back into the saddle and Angel rested, recovering his strength. 
She looked up to where Buck stood with all four hooves on solid riverbed, refusing to move, fearful of finding himself once again in need of swimming. The river flowed around him but he would not go forward.
Angel looked at Buck, and Bella could sense his anger. He turned back to the north and worked his way upstream. When he was close to Buck he bellowed an order and Buck responded with alacrity, surging forward to the other shore. Angel followed the weary gelding north. 
On the other side, they rode a bit into the wood line to get out of the breeze and then setup camp. They had gone as far as they would today. 
They untacked the horses and picketed Buck. Trace collected wood for a fire and Bella used magic to start it. She was happy she had finally mastered this simple craft,”and it only took me most of a year, she thought sarcastically.
They got their belongings out of the packs and were amazed to find most of them in good condition. Some moisture had seeped into the items that had been closest to the opening, but the items on the bottom were thankfully still dry. Without hesitation Bella undressed and got into dry clothing.
"Bellana!" she heard Conall's shocked thought. "The first moment I'm not there, you're undressing in front of him."
It was only then that she realized Conall had not crossed with them. She looked around and panicked when she didn't see him.
"Nice of you to worry now,” he said irately. “I'll be joining you by this evening. I can not swim that distance. As high as the water is I would have to swim nearly a mile and wolves are not designed for that. Further west the river narrows where it plunges through a gorge there is a log across the gorge.” Bella sought his mind, coming away reassured that he was not offering false hope, to calm her nerves. 
She scowled at his next thoughts. “I would not lie to you, even for your own comfort. There is no point in my attempting to do so, we are too close. In the meantime, get your clothes back on or you will give Trace ideas that would only make trouble between the three of us."
"I've never thought of him as anything other than a brother," she said. 
"Those are your thoughts. He tries very hard to maintain that relationship, but you cannot do things like undress in front of him and expect it not to affect him. He is not your true brother and whether you wish to believe me or not, you are extremely beautiful Bellana. Do not tempt him."






Chapter 40




"It will not happen again," Bella said. Properly chastised, she finished dressing.
Trace had done the same as she, the need to get into dry warm clothes far outweighing the need for decency. 
Their wet clothes hung on tree branches over the fire, her boots had fared better than she expected. They were still dry having been wrapped in the water resistant cloak. Her bedroll had managed to get wet. She unrolled it and spread it out beside the fire. Her sword and bow were still in good condition but Buck’s floundering had soaked, Trace’s boots, sword, and bow.
 First he tended the sword, drying it thoroughly. Bella put his boots by the fire to dry and then she rubbed some linseed oil into the bow.
 By the time the weapons had been cleaned and cared for steam was starting to rise from the saddles beside the fire. When the extra moisture evaporated from them they were going to need a lot of oil. She didn't understand it, but water dried and weakened the fiber of leather and a soaking like this would considerably shorten it's useful life if it was not properly cared for. They didn't plan to keep this tack forever but they had no way to know how long they would need it.
When they were as dry as they could possibly be, Bella's teeth still chattered. She found herself looking often upstream for Conall to appear. What she wouldn't give for his warm body to lie next to hers right now. 
It was still early in the day and until the saddles dried out they had done as much as they could. She sat down as close to the fire as she could get. Trace walked up beside her and sat down, he sat very close, and she found herself remembering Conall's words. 
When Trace’s thigh and shoulder brushed hers she pulled away and he looked at her with a smile. "Don't worry sis, I know earlier was a matter of expediency. I also know I am still freezing and sitting together we would be much warmer. Don't think for a moment I didn't notice your friend get angry with Jasper back at Dylan's farm.” His lips pulled into a frown. “I don't know what is between you and your wolf, but I do know I've no desire to make him angry with me. Would you tell me what your relationship with him is?” 
"I can‘t answer that question.” She shrugged. “Mostly because I don't understand our relationship myself. He says he loves me, and I think I love him, but if the curse is never lifted there is obviously no future in it.” With a rueful shake of her head, she said, “It figures, I save myself my entire life for the man who will love me as much as I love him, and he turns out to be a wolf." 
Having received his reassurance she leaned into him and they covered their shoulders with the mostly dry cloak that had been in Bella’s pack. When her teeth stopped chattering Bella nodded where she sat with her head on Trace’s shoulder. 
She awoke later with a start; most of their belongings were dry. They got up and repacked, then Bella grabbed her bow and went off to hunt. She returned a short time later with two squirrels in her game bag. Trace was in the middle of oiling her saddle so she went ahead and skinned the squirrels and cut them into a pot that she placed over the fire on a makeshift hanger. 
She got out some of the dry vegetables, pulled some more spring onions and by the time the saddles were finished she had a delicious smelling stew well on its way to being finished.
They ate in silence. She left the pot beside the fire to keep it warm, then lay down on her bedroll and relaxed. She concentrated on being with Conall and found herself looking out through his eyes as they covered the distance with a ground-eating lope. He seemed startled. It was the first time she had reversed the connection thoroughly enough to share his body, without his prompting. "I am across dear one, I will join you shortly. Rest now." 
She withdrew her consciousness and went to sleep. Later she awoke to find his warm bulk beside her. He had nosed his way under the blanket and was sleeping soundly for the first time since they had left Relante. She was sure that he didn't sleep this well because the danger was any less but because the journey had been long and exhausting. She kept herself on the edge of alertness in case trouble wandered too close to their camp.
The next morning they got an early start. Buck and Angel were none the worse for their swim, so they loaded all the packs and headed into the mountains. 
At this time of year, the river made raiding into Ronan an unprofitable and possibly deadly occupation, most of the bandits would be found on the northern side of the Rortag range. 
For now, their biggest concern was the local wildlife. Springtime was beautiful, but it was also a time when some of the larger animals emerged from winter’s hibernation to go in search of food to replace the stores lost over winter, these animals weren’t particularly choosy about what they ate and a horse or a human would fit into their plans just as well as a rabbit or deer. 
Conall led the way up into the mountains pausing occasionally to wait for something to move on. Sometimes he would circle around and run something off that Bella and Trace could neither see, nor hear. 
At one point they saw several deer run off into the shelter of the dense undergrowth. In other areas the trees were mature, huge crowns blocked the sunlight from the forest floor, preventing the growth of underbrush and smaller trees, making a pleasant journey. Bella forgot her fear of the Rortags, as one day blended into the next with blessed calm. 
The trail Conall led them on was nothing more than a track made by animals and sometimes they couldn’t even see that. He led them inexorably northward. 
The sharp incline of the terrain frequently caused difficulty for the horses. They had to go around a steep sided ravine, and this took them considerably out of their way, but it was either go around or risk the horses’ legs sliding down the shale covered slope. Bella grimaced, remembering the pain those rocks could cause.
As darkness descended, Conall found a flat area they could set up camp in, Bella slid from Angel’s back with stiff legs. No amount of riding on flat ground could have prepared her for the effort it took to ascend this mountainous terrain. Angel had plenty to do with just keeping his own footing, he could not spare the attention to make sure she stayed in the saddle. When he slid she didn’t interfere with him, allowing him to find his own balance but this journey was turning out to be much more tiring than she had anticipated. 
Trace too seemed somewhat saddle sore when he dismounted. Bella had thought they would be getting used to this by now. Walking helped to loosen the stiff muscles but neither of them was anxious to go hunt. By mutual consent they collected firewood, Bella lit it, then they ate a cold meal, took care of the horses and went to sleep. 
Conall did not sleep at all that night. Bella awoke several times to find him prowling, at the edge of camp.
He awoke them early the next day. “We must go.”
Stretching weary muscles she said, “As soon as we eat, and get the horses ready.”
“Do not eat. We must go. Something comes.” Conall’s thoughts were chaotic. The incongruous odors of lilacs and decay carried on the wind.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It is the Shaker. I've smelled this scent before. We must go,” he repeated with an altogether frightening single mindedness.
She quickly relayed this to Trace as she sprang from her bedroll, packed their belongings and saddled Angel. Trace followed her lead. If Conall was scared of whatever was out there, then wisdom was to move as fast as possible. Trace had never seen the huge wolf scared and the tension in him now was terrifying. 
The horses sensed their nervousness and Buck proved difficult to saddle as he snorted and jumped watching the woods for the emergence of the bogeyman. They had just settled into their saddles when they began to hear crashing noises. It was off in the distance, but there was the unmistakable steady beat of something walking slowly and ponderously towards them.
Whatever it was, Bella had no desire to find out what could possibly spook her guardian. Cold and hungry, they began another long day of climbing the mountain. After an hour they could no longer hear the noise in the forest below them but the knowledge that it was out there drove them onward. 
At noon they paused long enough to grab some trail rations from their packs. Since Bella did not have to concentrate on guiding Angel, she readied her bow and the first rabbit she saw she shot for Conall. For once he did not permit embarrassment to stand in his way, not caring who watched him eat, he tore into the rabbit and when he was through returned her arrow to her. 
They permitted the horses to grab a couple of swallows of water every time they crossed a small creek. They crossed through a pass in the range and started traveling downward that afternoon. Conall scouted on ahead but had not been able to find a secure defendable cave, so they rode on well past nightfall. The steepness of the descent was as hard on the horses and riders as the ascent had been. The lack of sufficient light caused several serious slides. 
Bella began to notice a faint glow to some of the trees they were passing. Hope reared its head. When the whispering started she became excited and noticed that the trees were spaced regularly. She had heard these sad whisperings of ancient wars and heroic deeds only once before, and she knew they were near a Travel Lodge. The glow of the trees became brighter to her second-sight as they neared the Lodge and when she exclaimed in joy, Conall and Trace looked at her as though she had lost her senses.








Chapter 41



“There’s a Travel Lodge,” she thought to Conall.
“A what?”
“A Travel Lodge. Lodges magically maintained to shelter traveling wizards and witches.”
The entrance to this Lodge had the appearance of a solid cliff face but when she confidently rode into it and disappeared, Trace and Conall followed. Trace stopped to tie a tunic around Buck’s eyes, the gelding would not be convinced that his senses were deceiving him. When everybody was inside, it was a tight fit but they did not want to leave the horses outside to meet up with the Shaker. 
The Lodge was warm, and Bella realized that it was the first time since they’d left Dylan’s farm that she was truly warm. She sent a ball of green mage light toward the ceiling and they could clearly see their surroundings. 
There was the well-stocked pantry. The pile of straw, and the small table, but unlike the other shelters she’d stayed in, this one had a second doorway in the back wall. Trace opened the door and they found a room stocked with hay and grain. A small pool of water bubbled up in the back. Conall tested the water and declared it to be fresh and pure. The horses would eat well tonight and this would make things more comfortable in the small front room.
Trace got out both their bedrolls and set about making beds out of the straw. He had traveled with Johann many times so the Lodge was no surprise to him except for the addition of the stable. Perhaps the caretakers were prepared for travelers to be snowed in. There were certainly more provisions than in the other Lodges he had stayed at. 
Bella dug out the large pot from the bottom of the pantry and began mixing ingredients for a stew. She wished they still had some of the rabbit she’d shot earlier but they would have to make do with meat broth and dried vegetables for tonight. Having eaten little all day it was sure to taste like a banquet. She warmed it by stealing heat from the spell that warmed the rocks. 
Later, stomachs full, horses and tack tended to, they sat quietly and talked, too keyed up from the wild ride to fall immediately to sleep.
“How did you know this was here?” Conall asked. “I've lived in these mountains for centuries and I've never seen this place.”
“It is keyed to only be visible to those with the gift.” she told him. “Without the gift that wall would be solid, you could not come in here unless I chose to bring you.” Bella checked the thought that she had felt him display magical energy a few times. Most often in his jealous snits. “Johann showed them to me when we traveled in the Swa Caran range, as I’m sure he has shown Trace. We’ll be safe here unless that…thing is gifted with something other than immense size.”
“What do you imagine that was out there this morning?” Trace asked from across the small table. They had barely spoken at all since they had taken flight early that morning. This was the first chance either of them had to consider it.
“From what I know of it, I’d guess it was the creature the northerners call the Earth Shaker.” Conall had referred to it as the Shaker as they took flight. “By all accounts it is a horrific monstrosity, deadly if you get close enough to see it. It had Conall on edge and that was all I needed to know.” She reflected back on Neeran’s tale of it nearly catching him and added, “I’m just glad it was slow, and not concerned with stealth. It likely wasn’t even aware of us, but I wouldn’t have wanted to be there when it arrived.”
“Does he know anything about it?” Trace asked indicating Conall with a nod of his head.
“Only what you know. If the miner you heard the tale from truly saw the Shaker he could have described it. I have never chosen to seek it out,” he told her. “It travels the length of the mountain range but none who have seen it have survived to say what it is. Many of the wolves who were not wolves lost their lives to that thing. Many went willingly to die.” 
Anguish filled Conall’s mind. Bella had the sensation he had lost good friends to this monstrosity. “I don’t know if it could kill me, but now that I have something to live for, I have no desire to find out.”
“He says it has been around all these years, but few see it, and live to tell the tale.”
“If I never get to hear it again, I'll live the rest of my life a happy man,” Trace said. “It sounded as though the forest had risen up to walk. I would think the earth itself rumbled except for the regularity of the stride.”
“Bellana,” Conall called, “Look. There are some books here.” He had been nosing about the lower shelves in the pantry.
She got up and went over where he was and found two dusty leather covered tomes. Everything else was so well kept, she couldn’t imagine why these books had been buried beneath things, and covered in dust. She wondered that thought out loud.
Trace came over beside her and said, “Johann used to say that if something that had been overlooked by the keepers and other guests, was found in a Lodge, then that item wanted to be found by the person that unearthed it, and belonged to the finder. In this case, Conall, or maybe he was meant to find them for you.” 
She picked up the books. The first proved to be a book of magic. She could certainly use that. She had perfected the small spells, which Johann had given her to learn control. She had even succeeded in astral projection, and Healing. Her shields and illusion, were powerful, but she did not know many other spells. Johann had refused to instruct her in any of the more potent spellcrafting until her control was perfect. By the time her control had improved they had largely gone their separate ways.
The second book was strange. It was written in what seemed to be an archaic version of the language of Ronan. It appeared to be a daily log, much like that kept by current military units. There were recorded lists of supplies: when resupply was received, where they were encamped for the night, when they engaged the enemy, rolls of wounded, missing and dead, and many of the trivial day to day occurrences of military life. There were many words she couldn’t make out. Some were so changed through the years they no longer resembled any words she knew. Others were smudged by the passage of time. The book appeared to have spent some time in the weather before it had been rescued and brought to this secure haven to await discovery.
She told Trace and Conall what they were and each took a turn examining them. As she flipped pages for Conall to see what was written in the old log he became very still.
“This book was meant for me to find,” he said. “I know this book. I don’t remember the things that are written on these pages but I know in my heart this book belonged to my unit.”
Out loud, to include Trace in the conversation, Bella  said “Then we have just narrowed the odds of discovering who you were by more than half. Others we may be able to eliminate when we see Bethany, to match names of missing against those recorded in this book as dead. Some of them are probably recorded already in the official rosters as deceased. We cannot eliminate every name from Bethany’s list, but we may be able to narrow it to something around thirty.”
Bella took the spell book back from Trace. “Perhaps this book will give me something with which I can remove Conall’s curse. Why else would we find them together?”
“Don’t get your hopes up, Sis,” Trace said. “The way these Lodges work, it may just be that the two books would be found by two people who could use them and happened to be traveling together. Just because they were in the same place does not mean that one has anything to do with the other.”
“Of course,” she agreed, “you’re right, but it’s possible they were meant to be found together because one influences the other. I’ll not give up hope until I’ve read the whole book and found it to be worthless for removing the curse.” Conall pressed close to her, tail wagging. “Unfortunately we are short on time just now. We need to sleep and be underway early tomorrow, before that thing catches up with us. I can’t help but feel it was hunting specifically for us.”
Trace pulled on the mustache he had been growing since they left Ronan. “That’s not possible. Nobody knows we’re here, most likely it happened across our scent. Perhaps it naturally pursues humans, but I do not believe it is chasing us specifically.” Trace looked through the open doorway, knowing from the other side it was anything but open. “You can use your magic to wipe out the visual trail but just as Dorang could not change the natural scent of his victims, you would find it nearly impossible to get rid of the scent of a human.”
Bella remembered the hounds, chasing her through the Swa Caran range. She dug through the pantry for dill. “Perhaps tomorrow we can try to cover the scent if we can find something strong enough, we could backtrack and hide the evidence of our passing, then perhaps we could rest here for a day.” 
Yawning, Trace said, “I'm ready to rest for a day while we have a warm haven. It will likely be the last time we are warm for quite awhile. These Lodges tend to be spaced a certain distance apart running lengthwise with the mountain ranges. The Rortags run east - west and we are traveling north - south.”
“I agree, it will not destroy our schedule to remain here one more day. It may give the Shaker time to give up the chase. Right now I do not doubt that it is still tracking us. If it gets this far, perhaps when...” Conall hesitated long enough that Bella pulled his thought from his mind. She was dismayed at his reflection that ‘when’ might be ‘if‘. Conall turned to her, and said with more confidence than she knew he felt, “When, it cannot follow us through the wall, perhaps it will give up and go away.”
“Conall agrees with you,” Bella told Trace. 
“Let’s get some sleep then. Plenty of time tomorrow to investigate your books.”
He lay down on his bedroll, Bella lay down on hers, and was soon joined by Conall. 
Tonight it was warm. He did not have the excuse that he was trying to provide her with warmth. He seemed to have gotten over the idea that it was not proper for him to lay with her.
Following her train of thought he murmured sleepily in her mind, “If I ever get my body back, we will be married and I'll make you a respectable lady.”
He didn’t ask her, he told her, and for a moment Bella resented the statement, but she could not disagree with him. He knew her mind as well as she did. 
Early the next morning they were awakened by the sound of thunder. When they were fully awake, they realized that it wasn’t thunder but the same rhythmic rumble they had heard the day before as the monster approached. She prayed to every God she had even thought of before, that it was not magical enough to get into the Lodge. It seemed like ages before it got close enough that they could see it. Even when it came into view it was a long distance away. They stepped outside to watch its approach, the door to the Lodge was clear, but the view was narrow.
The creature they saw coming down the mountainside following in their tracks, was monstrous. 
It was twice the height of Angel and nearly four times the mass. Each leg resembled a huge tree trunk, which lifted and bent and thudded back to earth. Its head was enormous and each tooth contained therein was easily as long as her dagger. The eyes were a sickly shade of yellow and the size of dinner plates, and the nose was long and flexible, like a snake. A spike, vaguely reminiscent of Lorn, but nearly three foot in length, and glinting dully in the morning sun as though made out of a cheap metal, like the pots in the pantry behind them, protruded from the middle of its forehead. This feature was the most horrifying. Bits of hide stuck to the base glued there by dried blood and viscera, grisly trophies of previous victims. Its hide had a wrinkled, nearly black, leathery appearance and a long shank of coarse black hair fell to either side of its neck. It looked like a construct of many different animals swollen to gargantuan proportions. The parts did not flow smoothly into each other; but gathered together they were terrifying to look upon. 
It looked down on them and with a quickness they had not believed it could achieve, it charged down the mountainside toward them. They slipped back within the safe confines of the Lodge, well before it rolled into the clearing they had been standing in.
Bella’s heart pounded her ribcage as she stared at it from the safety of the Lodge. Not only did its separate parts not flow smoothly, they seemed constantly to be in conflict with each other. The questing nose led it straight toward the Lodge but the eyes, seeing a rock wall refused to follow the snuffling trunk. The nose slid along the rock wall of the door, meeting solid stone. After several moments of confusion the monstrous thing lay down in the entrance to the Lodge, and drifted off to sleep.
A collective sigh of relief at its inability to enter the stone door caused one great eye to open and look toward them, before the lid sank slowly back across the yellow orb.
The stench from the hideous creation was overwhelming, made all the worse by the sweet aroma of lilac that permeated the stronger odor of decay. In desperation, Bella tossed some rosemary and basil into a pot with a small amount of water and heated them until their pungent odor covered the worst of that roiling off the filthy monster.
Angel came out from the stable. She heard a thought in her head. The voice was not Conall's, "It’s hunting me, not the humans. It calls me out." The voice was that of a young male, and he seemed oblivious to the fact that she could hear him, as he directed his comment to Conall. 
"You must not go to it. Most likely it is attracted to your sire’s blood," Conall told him.
"No," Bella thought to both of them, "he cannot go out there."
Angel looked at her in surprise. A flash of happiness in the emotions she had been able to read for months, was quickly obscured by the seriousness of the situation.
Bella jumped upright, as though the rock she‘d been relaxing against had burned her. She stared into empty corners of the room. A third voice entered her mind and, horrifyingly she knew the caretakers were calling in her debt.
"We must rid the Lodge of this monstrosity," she thought to both of them.
"Why don't we simply outwait the thing, and leave when it moves off?" Conall asked.
"Do you know how long that could be?” she asked, “Besides, it is the price the caretakers have asked. I destroyed the interior of one of their Lodges when Johann first started teaching me magic. Between that, the books we have been given, and the night’s lodging, they feel this is a fair price."
"That is a hefty price. We will pay with our lives,” Angel’s voice came to her. "What will they do if we do not pay?”
Angel had been in the stable the night before, and unlike Conall he had to consciously be trying to communicate to intrude on her. He did not know what books she spoke of. 
Conall did, she could hear the dismay in his mind as they both thought, "The books. I can’t give mine up, but if we don’t do as asked, we won’t leave here with them."
In the corner where he had been squeezed when Angel joined them, Trace was aware of something going on to which he was not privy. He could tell by the emotions playing across Bella's face that something bad just occurred, but he had no idea what. "Some of us can't mind speak,” he said with a tiny bit of annoyance.
"I'm sorry Trace it’s so natural for me to do so, I sometimes forget others can’t. Angel claims the monster is calling for him. It isn’t tracking the two of us. It wants him to come out of hiding.” She didn’t want to tell him the rest of it but he had to know. “Worse news, the caretakers have chosen to collect my debt to them, and demanded the price of what we have been given."
"What price?" Trace asked, his lips narrowed to a thin line. 
"Surely when you traveled with Johann you knew he left a magical gift as token for lodging and food.
"Of course, but generally they ask for a shield to protect their Lodge from notice or a magical enchantment to replace an aged Travel Oak, what is it they’re asking?"
"They want us to release the souls of that thing sleeping in front of the Lodge, and to remove it forever from harassing and killing other travelers which stay here." 
"That is a steep price for lodging," Trace remarked.
"That was Angel’s thought as well, but the books Conall and I have been given are nearly priceless. And I did nearly destroy one of their Lodges. I worried then about being in debt to them. I didn‘t know how wise I was to be concerned." She sat in one of the chairs, her arms hung lifelessly at her side as she despaired of being able to carry out this request.
"And if we refuse?" Trace asked.
"We would not leave with the books. Perhaps we would never again be permitted to stay in a Lodge. I do not know for certain. Unlike the conversations I have with Conall, and it would seem now, Angel as well, I do not speak with the caretakers. It is not a conversation but a sensation of knowing. And I know beyond doubt that this is something which must be done."
With a steady hand, Trace grasped his bow, nocked an arrow and faster than thought sent it straight at the monstrous chest. From that close a range it should have sunk up to it's fletching but the leathery skin was a form of armor, the arrow shattered and fell to the ground in splinters.
He nocked a second arrow and aimed for the eye of the drowsing creature. The eyes were heavily lidded but the skin was not so tough here. The arrow penetrated less than a quarter inch before dropping to the ground. The thing jumped as a horse would, if a bee had stung it. It sprang to its feet with unbelievable speed and grace and turned to glare at the rock wall that had offended it by sending that nuisance its way. Bella grabbed her bow and as one, she and Trace released their arrows, both of them sunk deeply in the eyes blinding and enraging the creature. With its vision gone, it followed the instinct of scent, charging the rock wall that a more thinking creature would have remembered was there. 
Rocks rolled down the face of the cliff, but Bella sighed with relief, it could not come through the magical wall. It was too big to have gained entrance to the Lodge, but the idea of that massive spike and the questing grasping nose occupying the suddenly too small and confined seeming area, had terrified her.
When it hit the wall, Bella's arrow broke off, leaving the tip behind. Trace’s arrow still hung, the weight of it slowly drawing the baleful yellow and red orb from its socket. In sudden confusion and pain the monster scrambled again to its feet and ran in the opposite direction, flattening trees as wide around as Bella’s waist as it went.
Angel spoke urgently. "Hurry, bring all your weapons. We must finish it now. If we allow it to rest, it will regain its vision, at least in the one eye that remains. It is magical. Given a short amount of time it will shield the arrow tip and repair the eye."
Bella sprang into action at his first words. In moments her quiver hung at her hip, her scabbard was fastened to her back, the dagger rested on the hip opposite the quiver, and her throwing knives were securely sheathed. She leapt to Angel’s bare back. They left the Lodge behind, with Conall at Angel’s heels. A brief shout caused her to look over her shoulder, Trace pounded at the entrance of the Lodge from within. The caretakers did not think this was his battle. 
She could not have returned if she wanted to, Angel was not about to slow or go back. They caught up with the monster much too soon. The nose whipped around towards them and the rest of the body slewed around to follow it. Already the bleeding had stopped. There was no oozing or dripping from the eye. Shortly the damage would be repaired. 
The other eye socket was a gaping hole. The arrow had snagged on a tree during its head long flight and finished the job gravity had begun. She pulled her bow and fired an arrow at the wounded eye, the arrow missed as Angel nimbly danced away from the deadly spike charging towards him. It was now too close for another shot with the bow. She dropped the useless weapon to the ground, and pulled her sword in a well-practiced overhand snatch from the scabbard. Angel danced to the rear of the monster; it whirled trying to find its attacker. 
Bella doubted it had ever, in its long life, been attacked, much less injured. Its confusion aided Bella and Angel considerably. When it tried to focus on them, Conall attacked it, nipping at the hind legs, finding a sensitive spot in its armor where the joints bent, on his third pass he managed to draw blood. 
Bella tried to shield, but they could not strike through a shield. It protected the monster as well as them. She sent a blast of power toward it; enough power to have consumed a pile of wood meant for a bonfire if she’d been trying to light it, but the magical construct consumed the energy as it flew towards it. 
Angel brought Bella alongside as it spun to meet Conall's attack. With a thrust aided by the speed of Angel’s motion she cut into the joint where the leg met the body. It horrified her to feel the sword yanked from her hands by the creature’s attempt to get away from the offending weapon.
Bleeding from the empty eye socket, it's fetlock, and now it's elbow, the monstrosity began to show signs of slowing. It twisted its head around as Angel started another pass. Bella was now armed only with dagger and throwing knives. Conall attacked from the other side and the massive head swung towards him. The spike grazed his side as he leapt out of the way with not quite enough agility. Desperate to save him, Bella released one of the throwing knives at the exposed socket. It sank home but was too small to do more than distract the creature for a moment. That was enough for Conall to remove himself from combat.
"I'll be all right," he sent to her, clearing her mind of concern for him and allowing her to focus on the larger problems at hand. Angel continued to dance with the deadly, enraged monster. She sent her dagger hurling after the small throwing knife, knowing she would have to get too close to use it as it was intended. It did not connect with its target, the weight and size made it awkward to throw. Now she was weaponless and Conall was out of the fight. With only one target the monster was beginning to focus with much better acuity. 
An idea lodged in her mind when she released the small dagger into the empty eye socket. If she could shoot an arrow into the hole, perhaps she could kill this thing. With that thought she dove from Angel’s back to recover her bow. With the economy of long familiarity of thought, Conall limped over to retrieve the bow from where they had first closed on the monster. 
In dismay she heard his thought, "Broken."
Angel danced off to distract the creature from her, nimbly keeping it entertained, staying just out of its deadly reach. 
With a heave of exasperation, she went for her next best weapon. She retrieved the sword from where it lay in the dirt and gore. Crawling to where the deadly dance was being performed, slowly, desperate not to attract the Shaker’s attention, she moved from tree to tree. When she was close to it, she rolled out from behind her cover and shouted. 
The massive head swung her way, the spike sliced through the tree which she had intended to protect her. She cast a shield to protect herself, uncertain if it would do any good. As the tree was severed, the impetus behind the monster’s thrust, slowed. And as she dove away from the falling tree, she thrust with her entire body up into the cavity opened by the missing eye. The sword went true and she followed after it pushing with all her might into the soft tissues. She twisted the blade and sliced, severing the brain in half. 
Still the thing moved. The head flipped through the air, shaking her like a rag doll, dislodging her against a tree trunk, leaving her weaponless, and barely conscious. Angel ran in for one more pass. A swift kick to its soft underside, distracted it from where Bella dragged herself to shelter behind the stump of the tree. She lay still, desperate not to attract its attention again. 







Chapter 42




With Bella safe, Angel stood back and watched. "It's finished,” he thought to her. "It cannot recover from the wound you have given it."
Even as he ended the thought, the monster folded its legs and sank to the ground. The final spasm of its uncontrolled muscles brought the spike perilously close to her hiding spot. Conall joined her. He was bleeding badly from his wound and without thinking she reached out to Heal him. The pain caused her to gasp, and curl into a fetal position. Angel rushed to her side and the three of them, mended but weary, watched in consternation as the creature breathed its last and crumbled apart into the separate bodies which had been used to construct it. 
Central to the construct had been a Unicorn. Unlike Lorn, this Unicorn was a black mare. In death, its horn shone brilliant silver. A huge snake lay where the nose had been. Other victims of this foul magic were a wolf, whose teeth still seemed abnormally large, an owl, with a missing eye, nearly fifteen of a peculiar looking rodent with a hide that looked as though it were indeed armored.  Other creatures lay in the mass, large and small, they seemed to have been used for no purpose other than to shore up the gargantuan size of the construct. 
Most amazing to those present, was the human form sitting astride the Unicorn. In death it had returned to the state it had been in when it had been incorporated in the spell, and it was liveried in the ancient uniform of Ronan.
In a hushed thought, Conall said, "I knew him. I cannot tell you his name, but I knew him. The man wears the rank of First Sergeant he should be identifiable in the book.” Conall shook his head as memory flooded back. “I remember when this man disappeared. The rest of our unit took to the hills to find him. We found instead, Dorang’s brother, Torant. Conall walked closer and inspected the First Sergeant.
“Torant laughed when we asked him if he'd seen the First Sergeant and he showed us what had become of him.” Conall trembled. Two hundred years was insufficient to erase that horror. “There were fifty of us, and in his strength, Torant did not fear us. Indeed, nearly half were dead before we managed to kill him. But kill him we did, that is when Dorang arrived home.” Conall was lost in his pain. “This is infuriating I can remember bits and pieces but nothing of myself. We must tend the dead. They have suffered long enough. We cannot leave them here to rot. They must burn. Even the lowest life form did not deserve this fate."
Angel agreed with him, and they began gathering up the bodies into a pile on top of the largest figures. Bella collected her weapons as they sifted through the pile. Trace arrived, riding Buck. Fury reddened his features, but relief softened his anger when he found them alive. She told him of the battle and explained what he was looking at. 
"They wouldn't let me come," he said. "They came into my head and said it was not my fight."
She knew he spoke of the caretakers. She knew nothing of the mysterious beings that had created and maintained the Lodges, but it seemed they were more powerful and omnipresent than she had ever imagined. 
Trace continued, "I knew it was over, one way or another, when my horse came out of the stable already tacked up. I guess I get to help with the funeral pyre.” When the bodies were all stacked they covered them with wood and started the fire. When it burned down low, the four companions returned to the Lodge to get cleaned up.
 Walking through the cliff face, they found water in the pot already warming and towels set out beside it. How could the caretakers so thoroughly know the needs of the occupants? Bella found it disturbing. But tired, and covered in gore up to her armpit, she was glad of the courtesy. Bella cleaned herself first, then refilled the pot from the spring at the back of the stable. She heated it magically, stealing from the caretaker’s warmth spell. When it was hot she took the towels and scrubbed down Conall. 
Anticipating the need, Trace made up a large pile of straw and covered it with all the blankets. When she was done with Conall, she tended to Angel. Then she and Conall collapsed gratefully on the bed Trace had made. She awoke hours later to a heavenly aroma and found that Trace had cooked a couple of rabbits, and scrambled up a mixture of mushrooms and onions.
It was late afternoon. They ate and then Trace brought out the book that had been left for Conall. He turned to the rolls of the dead and missing and showed them one of the last entries listed as missing, “First Sergeant Horaud.”
 "Yes,” Conall thought, “that was his name. A very good man, an excellent strategist, leader of troops, and my friend."
Bella thanked Trace for having found this, and relayed what Conall had just told her. Trace smiled, thankful to have been able to do something useful. "Before dark I'd like to check the funeral pyre, make sure there's nothing left to be dishonored.”
Bella and Conall were well rested. They agreed with the sentiment. Angel came out of the stable and walked with them to the pyre. There was little left but ashes when they arrived. In the middle of the pile of ash and glowing coals a glint caught their eye. Angel danced over the coals to kick this treasure from the pile. Sliding to a stop in front of Bella’s feet was the silver horn of an adult Unicorn. It was eighteen inches of the purest silver found in the Four Lands.
Tentatively, she bent to pick it up and found it cool. When her flesh touched it she heard words in her mind, "Bless you for our freedom, ‘Daughter of the Wind’. The human sends thanks to his Captain." Bella’s jaw hung open, she was incapable of doing anything more than gape at the horn that now lay still and quiescent in her hands. 
Bella's nerveless hands clenched the silver horn. Her knuckles whitened, she refused to loosen her grip for fear somebody else would hear the message. 
For a second time a unicorn had called her a “Daughter of the Wind”. She thought nervously of Dalanor’s words, insisting King Thale was desperate to capture just such a person.
The scent of burned flesh hung heavy over the embers. The fire had blazed hot and Bella suspected the magic of the unicorn was responsible for the complete immolation. With the removal of the horn, there was no way to tell which ashes had been human and which, unicorn, or any of the multitude of other creatures that had perished two hundred years ago, yet only died today. 
With his dying thought, First Sergeant Horaud, had unknowingly unraveled the biggest part of Conall's curse. Bella knew who he was...and she was afraid that knowledge would tear him from her.