The winter wind whistled through the pines, and Wren shivered despite the fact that she was wrapped in more than one layer of furs. The steel plates of Ghveris’s armor were cold to the touch, if she was careless enough to make contact without something between them, but at least his bulk created a sort of windbreak for her.

It would have been bearable, perhaps, with a fire - but not only did both Keri and the man who’d accompanied Tephania agree that they couldn’t risk it, even Wren herself knew that. It was just hard to think clearly when she was so miserably cold.

They’d made seats from a few fallen logs, brushed clean of snow, because no one was willing to take the saddles off any of the horses when they might need to leave at any moment. Now, Keri, Ghveris, Wren, Tephania and the middle-aged man sat in a rough group, while Keri’s troops kept a lookout.

“I know you, Tephania,” Keri said, once they’d all had a seat, “from the funeral of Auris ka Syvä. But this man is a stranger to me, and you did not come north with Livara.”

“You’ve picked up a few people I don’t know, as well,” Teph said, looking Ghveris up and down for a moment. “But I’ll go first. This is my father, Sir Elias Lane. He’s a knight in service to Duke Thomas Falkenrath.”

“My daughter has told me somewhat of you, Lord Inkeris,” Sir Lane said, and then turned to Wren. “And more of you. Her friend’s bodyguard, if I recall correctly. From Varuna.”

Wren spoke slowly and deliberately, so that she wouldn’t fall into another fit of coughing. “What’s a Falkenrath man want with us?”

Keri nodded. “Your master supports Benedict. That makes him our enemy.”

“Before my daughter and I explain,” the aging knight said, “I would like to know the name of the last person in this conversation.”

Wren could feel the rumble against her back, the low grinding of a mechanical voice emerging from behind her. “Ghveris.” For a moment, she wondered what he would have sounded like before being trapped in a body of enchanted steel. She imagined that the man of flesh and blood would have a gentler voice.

“Your question is answered,” Keri said. “If you want us to remain and hear you out, we need an explanation. No one should have known we were coming.”

“It’s going to take a moment,” Teph warned, after exchanging a glance with her father. “You’ll remember, Wren, that I wanted to stay at Coral Bay long enough to test up to journeyman, so that I could become a Court Mage.”

Wren nodded, and the motion set her to coughing again, but she waved at the girl to continue.

“Well, that didn’t last long, after Liv left,” Tephania said. “One of Genevieve Arundell’s supporters, Reginald Teck, got appointed to fill Archmagus Jurian’s position right away, and he started changing everything. If you were low-born, like a commoner or just the daughter of a knight? He couldn’t care less about you. The only people he bothered teaching anything to had political connections. You had to be the son or daughter of a baron, or someone well-placed in one of the guilds, for him to even learn your name.”

Wren caught herself absently holding the hilt of one of the two enchanted daggers that Jurian of Carinthia had made for her. They were all she had left of a good man.

“Did they even give him a funeral?” she blurted out, before she could stop herself.

Teph nodded. “Oh, they made a big to-do out of it,” she said. “How he’d died a hero, saving the guildmistress’s life from our little Liv. Apparently she fought two archmages and Baron Erskine, killed one and nearly did for the other, and then dropped poor Anson Fane on her way out just out of spite.” The blonde girl’s words practically dripped venom. “No one who actually knew her believed a word of it - and plenty of other people had doubts, at first. I mean, a journeyman beating two archmages? And everyone who saw the top of Blackstone Hall blow off knew it was Aluth that did it, not any kind of ice.”

“Anyway, people started leaving,” Teph continued. “One or two at a time, you know? Mostly people who’d been friendly with us, and found themselves getting looked at a little too carefully. When Professor Every went, and another one of Arundell’s people replaced her, well that just made things real clear to everyone which way the wind was blowing, so to speak.”

“By the time I was starting to think about who I might want to be a journeyman under,” she said, “I couldn’t see my way to staying another year or two. So I came home instead.”

“Unfortunately,” Sir Lane picked up the story, “Courland isn’t much safer. The crown’s new Lord Commander, Bennet Howe, is using the Falcon’s Roost to muster their army before a spring march north.”

“The Falcon’s Roost?” Ghveris rumbled. Wren wasn’t certain just how well he was following along, but he really was picking up words and phrases quickly. She’d explain anything he missed once they’d finished.

“The castle of the dukes of Courland,” Teph’s father explained. “We’ve had to play host to Howe and Princess Milisant nearly all winter - until they went to Freeport for the wedding, at any rate.”

“Liv should’ve killed her on that beach seven years ago,” Wren grumbled. Though she hadn’t been there to witness the duel with the princess, she’d certainly heard enough about it during her time at Liv’s side.

“No.” Keri shook his head. “That would only have set things off earlier. She needed that time to learn and grow. When it comes to dealing with Lucania, time is always on our side. So you went back home to Courland, Tephania, and found yourself in the middle of a mustering army. How did the two of you get here?”

Teph opened her mouth to speak, but her father put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you absolutely certain we can trust them?” the older man asked.

“Yes,” Teph said.

Sir Lane turned from his daughter back toward Wren, Keri and Ghveris. The aging knight leaned forward. “We are trusting you with the lives of the family we are sworn to serve,” he said, his eyes burning with intensity. “If any of you betray our trust, I swear this: no matter what else happens, I will take vengeance before I die.”

“You’re the ones who rode out to meet us,” Wren said. “And you still haven’t explained how or why you’re here. I think you need to show a little bit of that trust you’re asking for.”

Tephania reached under her cloak and removed a sigil-inscribed white stone, broken in half at the middle. “Do you recognize this?”

Wren nodded. “I do, though I don’t know how you got one.”

“We were given it by Thurston Falkenrath, son of Duke Thomas and heir to Courland,” Sir Lane explained. “He received it, apparently, from a culling mage by the name of Alisander, who’d been pressed into service moving royal troops through the waystones since the beginning of the winter. I am told that the other half is held by Matthew Summerset.”

“The source he wouldn’t name,” Keri murmured.

“We didn’t know anything about this until the family got back from Princess Milisant’s wedding,” Teph told them. “But apparently Isaac Grenfell had one as well, and it got him caught and executed in front of the entire royal court. Supposedly Genevieve Arundell can sense them. I imagine she’s using Cei somehow, she’s had the word long enough to be good with it. As soon as they got back, Thurston called me in and asked me to get it out of the Duchy entirely.”

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“Why not grind the stone?” Ghveris asked, and made a motion with one fist in his other palm, to demonstrate. Wren was more concerned about the name Grenfell - that was Liv’s old teacher. Family?

“Too great a risk,” Sir Lane said, shaking his head. “What if she could sense the enchantment breaking? What if she had a way to track the dust? No, we had to get it away entirely, before the guildmistress had time to begin searching Courland.”

“So he’s been passing information to Matthew this entire time,” Wren said, walking herself through it step by step. “But now it’s too dangerous, so he’s got to get rid of the thing. He calls in Teph because - what, he knew you were Liv’s friend?”

The blonde girl nodded. “When I first got back from Coral Bay, Duke Thomas and Lord Thurston both called me in for a private conversation. They asked me - well, a lot of questions. It was terrifying, to be honest. But as far as I can tell, they were just trying to sort what really happened at Coral Bay from what King Benedict and his people claim happened.”

“The Summersets were vassals of the Falkenraths for generations,” Sir Lane said. “That is a long time to have kept faith, and to have built trust.”

“Your duke supported Julianne’s bid to become a duchess,” Keri said. “That wasn’t the act of an enemy.”

“That’s right, you were there, weren’t you?” the old knight recalled. “The Eld who addressed the great council in Freeport. I got a glimpse of you through the crowd, at the time.”

“Lord Thurston used the dreamstone one last time, the night before he gave it to me,” Tephania said. “Lord Matthew told him that you all had captured Rowan Erskine, and were setting off after his father.”

“This village - Hawkshead - it was always their fallback point,” Sir Lane explained. “Lord Commander Howe made certain to keep extra horses, rations, everything they would need here in case they had to flee back through the mountains. So once Tephania knew you were pursuing them, we left to meet you here. It required a bit of faith you wouldn’t lose their trail, or turn back, but it was the best chance of meeting up with you.”

Wren raised a hand to muffle a fit of coughing, and once it had passed, spoke up. “If you hadn’t found us?”

“We would have gone into the mountains,” Teph said. “Once we were well out of Courland, I’d have dropped the stone off a cliff or something. Thrown it in a river, maybe. Anything to get rid of it.”

“So Matthew’s lost his source, then,” Keri said. “We’re about to be blind.”

“Maybe not,” Wren said, before she could think better of it. Everyone but Ghveris turned to look at her.

“This Thurston - he’s Matthew’s friend?” Wren asked, and waited for both Tephania and her father to nod in response. “And it sounds like even his father the duke isn’t entirely sold on what Benedict and Genevieve are doing. Why else would he have called you in and questioned you about Coral Bay, Teph?”

“Duke Thomas is being cautious,” Sir Lane said. “He’s the sort of man who wants to understand every aspect of a problem, to look at it from every angle, before deciding what to do. His daughter, Lady Cecily, is one of the princess’s ladies in waiting, so he has a window into everything that happens at court. I didn’t know where he was getting his information on what was happening in Whitehill until my daughter came to me with the stone, but now it makes sense. Matthew Summerset must have been trying to sway the Falkenraths away from the crown.”

“What sort of information did Matthew give him?” Keri asked, frowning.

“From what I can tell, things designed to make it appear Duchess Julianne has a chance at actually holding the pass,” Teph’s father explained. “No firm numbers - nothing that could be used in military planning. Not that the duke would risk exposing his son and heir, in any case.”

“If he didn’t put a stop to it, maybe he still hasn’t made up his mind,” Wren said. “You still have that little idol, Keri?”

Inkeris stood up, walked to his horse, and reached into one saddlebag. After a moment, he drew something small out and carried it back over to the set of logs where they were all sitting. When he extended his glove and opened his fingers, they could all see a small figurine. The face was only a suggestion, but the swelling, pregnant belly, heavy breasts, and round thighs were clear.

“What is this?” Sir Lane asked, leaning forward for a better look.

“That is an idol of Ractia, the Great Mother,” Wren said.

“The Vaedic Lady of Blood,” Keri added. “The same one responsible for the Day of Blood seven years ago, and the one behind the attacks on my people at Soltheris and at the Hall of Ancestors. The one I warned the great council about, though no one in Lucania wanted to listen.”

“This was found on one of Erskine’s raiders,” Wren said.

“A man named John Draper, of King’s Highway - which I’m told is in Sherard lands,” Keri continued. “This is the first real proof we have that there is a Cult of Ractia operating in Lucania.”

“Would your duke be interested in knowing that?” Wren asked.

Sir Lane sighed. “No doubt he would,” the old man admitted, leaning back. “But besides the statue itself, there is no proof here but the word of - and you’ll forgive me for saying this, I hope - foreigners. An Eld of the north, and a woman from Varuna. None of this is strong enough ground for Duke Thomas to take the sort of action I can only imagine you’re hoping for.”

“Are there Sherard soldiers at Courland?” Wren leaned forward, holding her furs tight about her shoulders. “Is that little shit Merek Sherard there?”

“Yes to both,” Tephania answered. “What are you thinking, Wren?”

“Take me back with you.” The moment she said it, Wren felt Ghveris stiffen around her, though if you’d asked her at any time before, she wouldn’t have been able to imagine how the body of a machine could possibly show a physical response like that.

“Impossible,” Teph’s father barked, shaking his head immediately. “If you were found, all of us would be executed.”

“You’re not well,” Keri protested. “You need to take time to recover, not to go sneaking off behind enemy lines. I’ve hunted the cult all across the north. If anyone should go, it should be me.”

Wren laughed, right up until it turned into a fit of coughing. That wouldn’t help her argument, she knew, but she continued on anyway. “You’re one of the Eld, Keri. How exactly do you plan to hide yourself among Benedict’s army? I’ve been to Courland before, and I look human. I even have the right ears.”

“You know the city?” Sir Lane asked.

“It’s the port by which I entered Lucania and then left again, twenty-five years ago,” Wren explained. “Though I took the road to Whitehill and spent the night at inns, that time, instead of trying to camp in the snow.” She shot Keri a glare.

“Answer me this, then,” the old knight said. “When you step off the quay, which is the first inn you come across? The Black Buoy, or the Jolly Sailor?”

“Neither, it's the Bucket of Blood,” Wren shot back. “Trying to trick me?”

Sir Lane huffed. “I still don’t even see how you’d avoid getting caught out. We don’t even have the right kind of horse for you - you can’t possibly take one of those shaggy northern horses.”

“That’s easy enough,” Wren said. “I’ll ride nice and cozy, wrapped up in your daughter’s cloak. Probably sleep the whole way, honestly. It’ll be nice to be warm again. Here, give me the statue, Keri.” She held out her hand, and after a moment, the Elden warrior placed the idol in the palm of her glove.

“She is good at finding things out, Father,” Tephania said. “If it wasn’t for Wren, we’d never have had any warning at all about the attack on Coral Bay. And those mercenaries never had a hint Wren was watching them.”

“Skulking around the college is a quite different matter from hunting through an army unseen,” Sir Lane said. “If she’s caught -”

“Then we take the full blame,” Teph interrupted. “We don’t tell Duke Thomas, or any of his family that we’re bringing her back. If Wren gets caught, they’re shielded from the consequences.”

Wren stood up. “It’s settled then. I’ll recover better in Courland, anyway - plenty of blood to be had in a port town.”

Ghveris lumbered to his feet behind her, the juggernaut’s sudden movement shaking loose a thin layer of accumulated, powdery snow. The Antrian turned and stalked off through the trees.

Wren watched the Antrian go in surprise, then turned back to Tephania and her father. “I just need a moment,” she said, and then ran off, placing her boots in the enormous prints left behind by Ghveris’ armored feat. He wasn’t trying to hide - not that someone so large could have done that, in any event. She found him easily, perhaps thirty or forty feet off, facing away from the center of the pine stand, looking out at the open fields beyond.

“I cannot go with you,” Ghveris said, in the old Vakansa dialect he spoke more fluently.

“No, not really,” Wren agreed. She couldn’t help but shiver, despite the furs. “You’d get us caught as soon as we walked in.”

“I do not like it.” When he spoke, Wren could feel the rumble of the war-machine’s voice in her bones.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” she said, walking up to his side and raising one arm to place her hand on his enchanted vambrace. “I was taking care of myself for a very long time before you came along, big guy.”

Wren nearly stumbled back when Ghveris abruptly turned toward her. His enormous gauntlets came to rest ever so gently on her shoulders, and if he’d moved forward by a single step, she might have called it an embrace.

“Return safely, Wren Wind Dancer,” Ghveris said, blue eyes blazing like fire beneath the steel of his armored helm. “Come back to - us.”

As she walked away, Wren was certain there had been a slight hesitation at the last word, as if the massive war machine had been about to say something different.