Change has come, he wrote. The Lady of the Ladysforest was murdered by one of the iynisin, and you and I, lord prince, must see to our borders that she long guarded. Would the Sea-Prince even know what iynisin were? If he did, would he be insulted to have it explained? You may know iynisin by another name: these are those who rebelled against the Singer when the First Tree sang with the first Kuakgan. Some call them kuaknomi or blackcloaks. Pray send your envoy, that we may discuss how best to accomplish what profits us both. These my envoys are King’s Squires such as you met on your recent visit, and will return your messages to me, or guide your envoy, as you desire.

To Arian he wrote of what he’d found, what had happened, and what he thought he was supposed to do—a much longer letter—and begged her to share any thoughts she had about it. He asked if she’d ever heard of the game selani, and did his best to draw the runes on all the tiles. Ask the elders, he concluded, if they ever saw such things or heard my mother use the term. Especially the Seneschal.

Then he handed the letters to the two groups of Squires and bade them take provisions for their own journeys. “I have no positive warning that the Sea-Prince would do you harm, but he remains a stranger, so stay together, rather than one return to me, unless there is great need.”

They bowed. “Yes, sir king.”

When the four had ridden away, the glade’s silence seemed once more to close in; Kieri walked down to the little shrine and knelt there. He laid the ring on the shrine’s shelf. The stone was pale green, nothing as dark and rich as emerald but like clear water in a deep pool over white stone. The design incised on its rounded top showed a fern frond, the setting heavy gold. His mother had worn it on her heart-thumb, he recalled. Now, as he watched, a flicker of light rose from within the stone. He glanced aside a moment. No ray of sun was near: this was the stone itself. Under the fern frond, another design showed, etched in light: a dragon shape, tiny but perfect in detail. Then it faded again.

His heart thundered in his ears. Was this a dragonspawn, somehow captured or about to break free in scathefire? But the ring suggested no menace. He looked at his hands. He wore his father’s ring on his sword hand, a peculiar stone that flashed red-in-green. He’d been told it was the symbol of the power shared by human and elven.