Isana stared out the window and frowned, faintly. “I... I’m not sure,” she said, finally. “But I feel certain of it. It feels to me as if... as if it is nearly suppertime, and he is about to come in from tending the flock.” She shook her head. “Not literally, of course, but the sense of it, the emotion, is the same.”

Veradis watched Isana with calm, serious eyes, and said nothing.

“He’s coming home,” she said quietly. “Octavian is coming home.”

There was silence. Isana watched the walls of Garrison, the fortress-town her brother commanded, grow larger and more distinct. They changed from lines to sharp-edged ridges to constructions of seamless, furycrafted stone. The flag of the First Lord, a scarlet eagle on a blue field, fluttered in the breeze, and beside it flew her brother’s banner—a brown bear on a field of green.

The town had grown again, even though Isana had been there only two weeks before. The shantytown originally erected just outside of Garrison’s walls had been replaced with solid buildings of furycrafted stone, and a new wall had been raised to protect them. Then a second shantytown had gone up at the base of that wall, and Isana had been there the day Bernard’s engineers had brought up the third one, another layer of concentric half circles that enfolded the growing town.

The shanties were gone, replaced by more buildings of stone—rather square, blocky buildings with very little to distinguish one from the next, but Isana was sure that they were perfectly functional and practical.

And outside the third wall, still another shantytown was growing, like moss on the northern side of a stone.

Veradis’s eyes widened as she saw the place. “My. This is rather a large town for a Count to have in his keeping.”

“There are many people without homes these days,” Isana said. “My brother will probably give you some perfectly logical explanation as to why they are here, if you should ask. But the truth is that he’s never turned anyone away from his door. Anyone who made it this far...” She shook her head. “He’d do whatever he could for them. And he would make sure they were taken care of. Even if all he could do was give them the cloak off his own back. My brother finishes what he begins.”

Veradis nodded thoughtfully. “He raised Octavian, did he not?”

Isana nodded. “Especially the last several years. They were close.”

“And that is why you feel that Octavian will return. Because he finishes what he begins.”

“Yes,” Isana said. “He’s coming home.”

Veradis was quiet for a moment more as the coach soared over the outer walls of Garrison. Then she bowed her head, and said, “As you say, my lady.”

Isana pushed away the ugly worry that had been ripping its way into her thoughts since her son had left with the Canim armada.

Tavi was coming home.

Her son was coming home.

* * *