14

  In the broken ruins of Freisborg, under a skeletal moon:

  The paladins of Oberyn had built a low pyre, stacking wood and then (very gently) the bodies of over a hundred flash-frozen mortals; stiff as marble, their faces still twisted in terror and pain. A winter dragon had come here to slay and destroy, leaving no one alive in the village or fleet to tell why.

  Lerendar escorted his grandmother out of the shattered cottage in which they’d found a frozen small girl and her kitten, huddled under the bed. Tears streaked Alyanara’s face, but her voice was quite steady as she continued her blessing chant for the dead. Lerendar left her to it, bowing low, then backing away.

  A small flare of rosy light from the nearest cottage marked the freeing of two little souls… wherever it was that mortal children went, when they died. Lerendar Tarandahl ob Keldaran hugged himself. Not cold… he was an elf-lord… but heartsick and weary. Unsure what had happened or why he was here. Most of all, missing…

  A sudden gate irised open before him, its glow partly blocked by a short, graceful silhouette. One he’d have known drekking anywhere.

  “Bea!” he shouted, leaping forward as his pregnant wife rushed out of the portal.

  He hauled her into a ferocious embrace, scooping the laughing and sobbing woman into his arms and then whirling her in a circle. They rose in the air as he swept her around. First time he’d ever managed to levitate without a clumsily chanted spell.

  They kissed, as Bea’s arms twined round his neck. She was beautiful, in the brief, full-blown manner of humans, kept youthful by Lerendar’s presence and love. By their second child, now growing inside her. Dark of skin, hair and wide eyes, with curls that rioted out of her ponytail clip and over her forehead, Beatriz was love and contentment and joy to her elven husband.

  “You’re here! How? What…?”

  Bea stopped kissing his face long enough to explain (with occasional nibbles),

  “Oh, Renny, I’ve missed you so much since everyone went to the funeral and all of that mess with ascension! Then Andorin said you were in trouble, and…”

  “Wait. Funeral? Ascension? Who…”

  And then it struck him. What six months of stolen memory had temporarily hidden. Lerendar sagged, sitting down in midair with Beatriz cuddled close in his lap.

  “The emperor! His Majesty’s…”

  “Dead,” confirmed Bea, scratching and patting his back in soft circles. “And Prince Alexion is home from his wandering. Turns out your grandma’s his daughter, which puts her, your dad and Val in succession, Ren. You… I mean… I think it’s because of me that they passed you over, Baby, but you’ve been made Silmerana, instead of becoming an heir.”

  “And thank all the gods seven times over for that!” blurted the golden-blond elf. “Can you imagine me as a prince, Bea?”

  She laughed.

  “No, Baby, I can’t,” admitted his wife, around a flurry of kisses. “S’ far as… wha happen… you were… n’ trouble…”

  Lerendar pulled free for a moment, holding Beatriz far enough off to gaze at her face and body. (Which he was strong enough to do with only one hand and a bit of manna.)

  “But Ilirian? You and the Scamp? This little one? Everything’s well, back home?”

  Bea nodded, touching his face and getting her palm kissed.

  “Zara’s in bed, sleeping off a tummy-ache from too many sweets. Your friends… I asked them to…” she seemed unable to say something very important, but Lerendar nodded anyhow.

  “They’re here, as shades… which is how I first met them, back in another timeline. How did you get here? A potion?”

  Beatriz shook her head, no.

  “I was worried to death, back in the sitting room with Ava, after… when… I…”

  Lerendar looked at her closely, then kissed her forehead.

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  “You are under a powerful spell,” he guessed. “There is something you’re not permitted to speak of.”

  Bea nodded miserably, starting to cry.

  “Ren, Baby, I love you so much. I didn’t… would never…” she couldn’t finish, so Lerendar changed the subject.

  “You were telling me how you got here,” he said, stroking her hair and back.

  “Uh-huh… I, um… was in the sitting room, like I said, with Ava, and then I saw a line of ants marching up to my chair, across the rose carpet. Well, there are spells in the house to keep out bugs, so…”

  “Had to be magic,” he finished, interested. “Go on, what did you do?”

  “Are you kidding, Babe? You’ve told me the stories! I got up and followed the ant-trail, after getting Ava to stay and watch Scamp. The line of ants led out the door and all down the hall to an arched portal I’ve never seen before.”

  “And?” prodded Lerendar.

  “I went through it, of course. Then I was in that place Val’s always on about. The Shop of True Wishes.”

  “Need,” corrected her life-mate, smiling indulgently. “The Shop of True Need. I’ve been there once, with Grey-Fang’s granddaughter.”

  Beatriz relaxed, having worried that Lerendar wouldn’t believe her.

  “Yep! That’s the place. I had to wait in line, but I got to the counter after a bit, only, I didn’t have any money or potions, just… there was… somebody gave me…”

  And there was that blocking spell, again.

  “You paid,” cut in Lerendar. “With something you aren’t allowed to discuss.”

  Beatriz nodded again, frustrated nearly to tears.

  “I paid, and all I wanted was to come find you and help. I’ll look around for plants and minerals to brew something potent with, Baby, but… what happened here?”

  Lerendar shook his head.

  “We don’t know for certain,” he admitted. “But it looks like an ice dragon-strike. I found footprints, yonder. Three of them, and a tail-scuff. Nothing’s been stolen or eaten, though… and you’d better tell all the others about this succession rot and… and His Majesty.”

  The rest had been busy at this and that; blessing, exploring, anything at all, to give Bea and Lerendar privacy. He set his wife on the ground very gently, coming back to full contact with broken flagstones, himself. Next, the tall elf turned to face Alyanara and Keldaran, who were freed to come speak to the reunited young couple.

  Sister Constant loped over as well, jingling, creaking and rattling. Her hulking brother-in-Oberyn kept right on working, though, carrying slaughtered people and animals out of the wreckage and onto that unlit pyre.

  Lerendar drew Beatriz forward, holding her hand; big, sword-calloused fingers laced with her potion-stained slim ones.

  “Grandma, dad, Sister Constant,” he said. “Bea has something to tell you, and you’re going to want to sit down.”

  XXXXXXXXXXXX

  Meanwhile, back at the palace:

  Korvin, Genevera and Panya spread out to search Lady Outlander’s vast, ornate office. (A bank of enchanted windows, acres of luxury carpeting, gemmed chandeliers, valuable art… the works.) They moved quietly and signed rather than spoke, for the Council Hall was a feverish wasp’s nest of activity, and the skin-changer’s aide had a desk right outside.

  Korvin set wards and then crossed fifty feet of wine-colored rug to reach Outlander’s towering bookshelf. Genna shrank down to a miniature spy-eye, then zipped through the keyholes of one desk drawer after another, recording all that she found there.

  Panya went to a richly decorated wall map, on which Outlander’s mimic had written cryptic notes, placing dots of blue, grey and peach ink on certain locations. Not obvious signal colors, though, and the runes she’d used were completely unfamiliar. There were some clues, because Averna was marked, as were Karellon and Milardin.

  Korvin kept track of his fellow infiltrators while maintaining the wards and staying in contact with Lex. He was distracted, leafing through one book after another, most of them history texts and epical romance novels. Finally, though (and just as Alexion reached the throne room) Korvin struck ore.

  Evertt’s Book of Imperial Peerage was marked inside, too, he discovered. Dots of that same blue, peach and grey ink had been placed by certain high-ranking family names. Sanderyn, Kalistiel, Geldaherys, Arvendahl, Dawnwending… but not Tarandahl or Valinor, he noticed. Whatever the skin-changer’s plot, the imperial family had apparently been considered too vital to tap, while those northern rustics were simply too far or too low in rank… until now. Interesting.

  Panya signaled him over, just as Genevera returned to her own slim, agile form, bursting with news. Korvin tucked Evertt’s Peerage under one arm, then took his daughter’s hand and crossed to the wall map. His own magical book drifted along behind him, snapping its covers unhappily.

  ‘Found something?’ signed Korvin, ignoring the jealous tome and its flotilla of rattling pens.

  Panya nodded excitedly. She was quite beautiful and beginning to bloom in the way of an elf-maid who’d fallen in love. With him, apparently. A very confusing sensation for one who’d never been wanted before.

  The sea-elf’s gaze lingered on Korvin’s face longer than strictly required to nod and half-bow. Then, first smiling, then erasing the expression with a bitten lip, she pointed to a marked spot on the map, north and east of Averna. Far Deep, according to the chart, a place that the Peerage reported as having changed hands from Prince Andorin Kalistiel to one Lord Elmar of New Branch. (He’d never heard of the fellow, who must have been freshly ennobled, thought Korvin.) But Panya wouldn’t have been that pleased at a shift of power. Guessing, Korvin signed and finger-spelled: ‘Lord Samyr?’

  Panya’s answering signs were jitter-flurried and accented, but he made out something like: Maybe/ hopefully/ prayers.

  Meanwhile, Genna was bouncing with impatience, eager to reveal whatever she’d learned from what lay in the desk.

  ‘Dad-Highness,’ she signed. ‘You will not believe that…’

  Korvin’s wards pinged, changing color inside of his head. Someone had approached the aide’s desk, out in reception.

  ‘Later,’ gestured the prince. ‘Use the jewel now. Need to go.’

  By the time that Lady Outlander’s flustered young aide opened the door to a cadre of guards, the office was once again empty. No sign at all of Their Highnesses and a beautiful sea-elf spy, except for a very faint tremor of manna.

  …but maybe that was all that their hunters needed.