“No, I need you here,” Dorrin said. “One of the militia will do well enough. How are you coming with your weapons training when on patrol?”

“First thing every morning,” Gwenno said promptly. “Well—those assigned to camp chores do that first, but the rest of us have a half-glass of exercises. And then again in the afternoon after making camp.” She looked at the last pastry on the platter, and Dorrin nodded permission.

Beclan knocked at the door. “My lord?”

“Yes, Beclan.”

“Looks like there’s a storm moving up the river—big enough to reach us, maybe. Should I send to have the home herds brought up?”

“Is there much rain in it?”

“I think so, my lord.”

“I’ll look. Come along, Gwenno.”

Out the front entrance, Dorrin could see the great cloud, dark beneath and snow-white on top—and not just one cloud but a mountain range of them. In the strange light such storms produced, the household cattle, down in the water meadow, glowed as if carved from colored wax. If all that rain fell, the river would rise fast.

“Yes, Beclan. Get some men and bring them up behind the house.”

He saluted and jogged off. Gwenno made a move to follow, but Dorrin stopped her. “Do you know where the children are? I don’t hear them—”

“I passed them coming in,” Gwenno said. “They’re berrying in the woods—” She gestured.

“Well, find them and start them home.”

“At once, my lord.”

With Gwenno off to find the children and Beclan after the cattle, Dorrin thought of Daryan—out on patrol to the northwest—and hoped he’d find shelter in the woods. He was due back the next day or the day after. She met her steward coming briskly down the main passage.

“Laundry’s in, my lord. There’s a storm—”

“Yes, I saw it.” She ducked into her office, picked up the empty platter the pastries had been on, and went into the kitchen. “Storm coming,” she said to Farin.

“I thought so,” Farin said. “The fire’s not drawing well. Thank you for bringing the dish back, my lord.”

A crash of thunder startled Dorrin even as she sat down at her desk, shaking the house and then rumbling away into the distance as if giants were rolling barrels on stone across the sky. Dorrin looked out the office window in time to see the first drops of rain. Then a curtain of water smashed down onto the courtyard. A dank current of air ran through the house.

Shrill squeals came from the back entrance, and the sound of feet running and high excited voices meant the children were back—but probably wet. “Wait!” cried an adult voice, but as Dorrin reached the door of her office, several children pelted past her and ran into the kitchen. Down the passage she saw Gwenno leap over another child and bar the passage, arms and legs outspread.