“I know of no other Malikel in Forge. Councilman Willem is here as well.”

The names were enough to snap him out of his self-pity. Though he had only seen them from afar, Tristam recognized them right away. Head Councilman Willem was a formidable man, with a lordly manner and penetrating eyes. He’d been appointed to the Council at the age of thirty-five, a decade younger than any other councilman, and had risen to his current post in ten years. Next to him stood Sir Malikel, unmistakable with his dark brown skin and close-cropped hair and beard. Malikel was the only foreigner in the Council, and rumor had it that he had started his career as a common mercenary in Minadel. His appointment as Minister of Defense had been unheard of at the time, and was a testament to Malikel’s unparalleled brilliance as a strategist. Though his enemies at court made snide comments about his background, even they did not question his decisions on the battlefield. Under any other circumstance, Tristam would have been thrilled to meet him.

“Councilmen,” said the knight accompanying Tristam, “Tristam of Brancel is here.”

Willem acknowledged Tristam’s bow with a nod. “The Council thanks your family for your long record of service to the city. From what your instructors say of you, I’m expecting great deeds from you as well.”

Malikel extended his hand. “My deepest condolences. I understand Jack was a good friend of yours.” It was a simple statement, but somehow Tristam got the impression that Malikel meant it. “We wouldn’t usually ask a squire to return so quickly after a battle,” said Malikel, “but the enemy is a new one, and you were the closest witness.”

“It’s my privilege to serve the city.” Tristam hoped he sounded more sincere than he felt.

“I need to get the full account from you while it’s still fresh in your memory. Can you take us to where it happened and walk us through what you remember?”

The other knights fell away as Tristam led Malikel and Willem around the back of the building. Where to begin? Tristam started with the alarm bell and Jack riding to the farm. He described the chaos and his first sight of the strange woman with her wildcat. The farmhand trapped in the pen. It was by no means a smooth account, with both men watching him so intently. Tristam found himself directing his words to Malikel, who had a way of listening that made it easier to get the words out.

“This woman,” Willem asked after Tristam finished, “was she with any others?”

“I didn’t see any—”