“Yes, but not home, since neither wished to return. I sent them to train as Knights of Falk.”

“And you think one should be with a Kuakgan, and not with elves?”

“She is Pargunese,” Kieri said. “She wants to live amid forests and breed horses, she says, but mostly she wants not to marry.”

“There are other ways not to marry than cutting off an arm and grafting a tree onto your shoulder,” the Lady said, her expression grim.

“What?”

“Did you not know that is what they do? Every Kuakgan, red blood with green, a tree with a limb once human, and the Kuakgan with an arm once tree. They thrive and die together.”

“I did not. How—?”

“We know, because the trees tell us. If some men knew, they would cut down every tree, to kill the Kuakkgannir.” She stalked off. Kieri looked after her; her abrupt changes of mood bothered him the same way her disappearances bothered him. All his experience told him rule required self-control, steadiness of purpose. He glanced around to see Amrothlin also watching the Lady, his expression guarded.

“Is she all right?” Kieri asked.

“She is … the Lady,” Amrothlin said. “What were you speaking of?”

Kieri did not want to talk about tree-shepherds, or even princesses; he went back to Aliam. “I have another good word. You must decide how good.”

“Yes?”

“Andressat told me he met Arcolin in Aarenis, and Arcolin had recovered Cal’s sword. He’s sending it to me, to give to you. There should be no more relics of Cal’s ordeal down there.”

Aliam blinked. “I had almost forgotten. We never found it, and we searched. Where did Arcolin get it?”

“Andressat didn’t say. Arcolin will tell us, I’m sure. The bad news is that Stammel’s been blinded—I don’t know how, as I’ve had no word from Arcolin since early in the summer.”

“That’s bad. He was a good man.”

“He’s still a good man, but … I know Arcolin will take care of him.”

“Kieri, I want to take your offer—Estil would rather I stayed this side of the mountains, I can tell, and you already have a cohort of mine—but I can’t leave here until we have a roof over our heads and at least beds to sleep on and a table to eat from.”

“I know. Come when you can. The elves will help; it will not be as long as you think. I must get back—we’ll leave in the morning, unless you need us.”

“Do you never get tired?” Aliam asked.

“What did you tell me when I was a boy?” Kieri said. “Tired is a feeling, but duty is a fact, wasn’t that it?”

“I knew from the moment I saw you, you would be nothing but trouble,” Aliam said, rolling his eyes.

When Kieri reached Chaya again, more leaves had fallen and frosts had nipped the last roses in his mother’s garden. The comfort of the palace had never seemed more welcoming: hot bath, soft carpets under his bare feet, soft clean clothes to put on. He came down to find a mug of sib steaming on his desk and Garris waiting for him with reports—and questions.