In a heartbeat Dion stood in front of several dozen silver-haired men and women. They were all tall and lithe, with sharp features and pale skin, and wore clothing of deerskin and animal hide. Their hair was in a variety of styles: Zachary’s lustrous shoulder-length hair was short compared to some of the slim women, and several of the men’s hair was close-cropped and spiky. They were an attractive people, but grim and sober-faced.

‘What are they doing here?’ muttered a consul.

‘They’re here to fight alongside us,’ Dion said, sweeping his gaze over the gathered consuls.

‘The gods have no wish for them to be near our temples—’ began Consul Harod, his red face scowling as he stood near Chloe with his arms folded over his chest.

Chloe’s eyes blazed as she rounded on him. ‘Perhaps they were sent by the gods.’

‘Enough!’ cried Aristocles. He came to stand beside Chloe and Dion and turned to challenge the others. ‘My daughter is correct. Any man who suggests turning away the eldren who are our friends is no true patriot of Phalesia.’

Under his gaze, Harod tugged on his thick beard and was pensive for a time, before he finally nodded. ‘If they want to fight for our city, let them.’

‘They do—’ Dion said.

‘Zachary?’ Chloe interrupted. She saw that the eldran was trembling as he stood with his fists clenched at his sides. Remembering the time he had nearly lost himself in giant form, she once more saw that there was wildness in his eyes.

Zachary wasn’t the only eldran who appeared to be having trouble. He drew in a slow, shaky breath and then nodded. ‘I have been shifting form too much. I feel my identity slipping away. My people will not be able to change for long.’

‘Anything you can do to help will not be forgotten,’ Aristocles said. He bowed deeply. ‘I thank you, on behalf of all my people, for coming to our aid at this dark hour.’

Zachary merely nodded a weary acknowledgment as Chloe’s father turned to Dion.

‘Dion of Xanthos,’ Aristocles said warmly. ‘It appears my daughter is not the only one to have changed.’ Chloe could see her father take note of the bow Dion carried in one hand and the sharpened wooden spear in the other. ‘I see you no longer wear silver.’ Chloe realized it was true; Dion no longer had the silver symbol of Silex around his neck, nor the chain it hung from. ‘You are ready to take up iron, the materia of the warrior?’

Dion glanced at Chloe, then back to Aristocles. Chloe saw a strange expression on his face.

‘I suppose this is a time of change for all of us,’ Dion said.

Aristocles’ expression was quizzical, but he reached out to clasp the young man’s shoulders. ‘I must take this opportunity to thank you for the return of my daughter.’