Running horses approached, their hooves a drum of muffled thunder. Ehren looked back to see Count and Countess Calderon riding toward him. The Count had a bandage on his head, and one side of his face was so deeply bruised that it looked like a frenzied clothier had dyed his skin to complement a particularly virulent shade of purple. The Countess bore a number of smaller, lighter marks, souvenirs of the battle with the former High Lady of Aquitaine.

She and her husband reined in as their horses drew even with Ehren’s wagon. “Sir Ehren.”

“Countess.”

“You look like a drowned rat,” she said, giving him a faint grin.

“Drowned rat would be a step up,” Ehren said, and sneezed violently. “Feh. How can I help you?”

Amara frowned. “Have you heard anything about Isana?”

Ehren shook his head gravely. “I’m sorry. There’s been no word.”

Count Calderon’s expression turned bleak at this, and he looked away.

“Your Excellency,” Ehren said, “in my opinion, there is every reason to believe that she is still alive.”

Count Calderon frowned, without looking back. “Why?” He spoke between clenched teeth. Ehren winced in sympathy. The Count’s swollen jaw obviously made it painful for him to speak.

“Well... because she was abducted to begin with, sir. If the vord wanted her dead, there was no reason for them to go to the trouble to arrange a covert entry into a secured building. They would have killed her on the spot.”

Count Calderon grunted, frowned, and looked at Amara.

She nodded to him and passed along the question she could evidently see in his face. “Why would they want her alive, Sir Ehren?”

Ehren winced and shook his head. “We have no way to know that. But the vord went to a lot of trouble to secure her. We can hope that she is valuable enough to the enemy that they will not have harmed her. At least, not yet. There’s hope, sir.”

“I’ve seen what the vord do to those they take alive,” Calderon growled, the words angry and hardly intelligible. “Tell me that my sister is alive and in the hands of those things...”

Amara sighed. “Bernard, please.”

The Count looked back at her. He nodded once and pulled on his horse’s reins, guiding the beast a few paces away. He stood with his back to them.

Amara bit on her lower lip for a few seconds. Then she turned to Ehren, her composure regained. “Thank you, Sir Ehren,” she said, “for trying. We need to speak to Princeps Attis.”

Ehren chewed on his lower lip. “I’m not sure... he’s seeing any visitors.”

“He’s seeing us,” Bernard said roughly. “Now.”

Ehren arched an eyebrow. “Ah?”

“Before we arrive, we need to discuss in detail how best to employ the defenses of the Valley,” Amara said. “No one knows them better than we do.”