Beka, who’d been standing with Anri and Danos, looked up in surprise, and in the brightening light Klia could see how weary and bloodstained she was. Wind-burned as she was, her face was pale behind the freckles, and it was clear she hadn’t slept, either. Nonetheless, she came forward and saluted smartly.

Klia smiled. “I’m promoting you, Beka Cavish. These past five years you have served well, rendered untold service to the royal family, and exemplified valor on the field. From this day forward, you are a commander of the Queen’s Horse Guard.”

A murmur went through the assembly. Most knew that her father was a foreigner, and of low rank. They had no idea of his service to the Crown. Klia stilled it with a sharp look, then unhooked her silver and gold gorget and presented it to Beka.

After a stunned instant, Beka took it in both hands and went down on one knee. “Thank you, Highness, for this immense honor. I will not fail you.”

“I know you won’t. I call you all to bear witness. Rise, Commander Beka Cavish, and assume your place with your peers.”

When the last of the night’s work was finished at last, Klia made her way wearily back to Phoria’s pavilion to sit vigil, accompanied by the generals and commanders. As she neared it, she noticed Danos nearby. He saluted her with a wan smile. She returned it, wondering what the future held for him.

Chapter 43 - Nightrunning

THAT same night Alec watched with Seregil, Micum, and Thero from the shadows as the last of Atre’s troupe set off in the direction of the theater.

Patch and the other horses were hobbled in the narrow alley behind them, and nickered softly. Among all his other worries, Alec hoped that no one stole Patch.

The house was dark, but a lone watchman with a lantern had been left to guard the place. Seregil had seen the cook and serving girl leave after the evening meal, and none of them had seen any other servants during the day.

All but Thero were armed with swords, and Alec had his Black Radly in case of a chase. He’d taken off the shatta and stuffed a woolen muffler Illia had knitted him inside the quiver to keep the arrows from rattling. And for luck, too, he admitted to himself.

It was a clear night, with a lopsided autumn moon casting bright bars of light between the buildings. There were no walls around the houses in this neighborhood, making it that much harder to approach without being seen, though it was probably just as well with Thero along. The wizard had wisely dressed in breeches and a dark tunic, but he probably wasn’t up to much climbing.

“I’ll do the honors,” whispered Micum, starting away.

Just then, however, a tiny orb of blue light winked into existence in front of Thero.