Ushahin had his madlings.

Mutton roast steamed as Tanaros removed the covering domes and sat to his dinner. He carved a slab of meat with his sharp knife, juices pooling on the plate. The tubers were flaky; and there were spring peas, pale green and sweet. Sane or no, the madlings of Darkhaven could cook. Tanaros chewed slowly and swallowed, feeling the day’s long efforts—the long efforts of a too-long life—settle wearily into his bones.

A warm bath would be good.

“WELL DONE, COUSIN.”

A voice, light and mocking. Tanaros opened his eyes to see Ushahin in his drawing-room. The wicks had burned low, but even so the lamplight was less kind to the half-breed, showing up his mismatched features. One cheekbone, broken, sank too low; the other rode high, knotted with old pain.

“Do you jest, cousin?” Tanaros yawned, pushing himself upright in the chair. “How came you here?”

“By the door.” The Dreamspinner indicated it with a nod of his sharp chin. “I jest not at all. Readiness, our Lord asked of us; readiness, you have given, Tanaros Blacksword. A pity you do not ward your own quarters so well.”

“Should I not trust to the security of Darkhaven, that I myself have wrought? You make mock of me, cousin.” Tanaros stifled a second yawn, blinking to clear his wits. A bath had made him drowsy, and he had dozed in his chair. “What do you seek, Dreamspinner?”

The half-breed folded his knees, dropping to sit cross-legged on Tanaros’ carpet. His mismatched gaze was disconcertingly level. “Malthus is plotting something.”

“Aye,” Tanaros said. “A wedding.”

“No.” Ushahin shook his head, lank silver-gilt hair stirring. “Something more.”

Tanaros was awake, now. “You’ve heard it in the dreams of Men?”

“Would that I had.” The Dreamspinner propped his chin on folded hands, frowning. “A little, yes. Only a little. Malthus the Counselor keeps his counsel well. I know only that he is assembling a Company, and it has naught to do with the wedding.”

“A Company?” Tanaros sat a little straighter.

“Blaise of the Borderguard is to be in it,” Ushahin said softly, watching him. “Altorus’ second-in-command. He has dreamed of it. He’s your kinsman, is he not?”

“Aye.” Tanaros’ jaw clenched and he reached, unthinking, for the rhios in the pocket of his dressing-robe. The smooth surfaces of it calmed his mind. “Descended on my father’s side. They are mounting an attack on Darkhaven? Even now?”

“No.” Ushahin noted his gesture, but did not speak of it. “That’s the odd thing, cousin. It’s naught to do with us, or so it would seem”

“The Sorceress?” Tanaros asked.

Ushahin shrugged unevenly. “She holds one of the Soumanië, which Malthus the Counselor would like to reclaim. Beyond that, I cannot say. Those who have been chosen do not know themselves. I know only that a call has gone out to Arduan, to ask the mightiest of their archers to join the Company.”