“The elves said something like that, the last time I spoke to one of them about it,” Galvary said. “It didn’t make sense to me, though.”

“Well, first things first,” Kieri said. “I want to see merchants represented on the Council by midsummer. I’d like a list of those you consider suitable in ten days. I will then meet them and interview them.”

“So soon? I mean—yes, Sir King, but—there is still your coronation to plan.”

“And plenty of help to plan it,” Kieri said. “If you will give the Council a limit to spend, I believe Sier Halveric can take it from there—”

Galvary looked shocked, but nodded. Kieri stretched and glanced around. Outside the light was fading—near time for dinner, surely.

“Thank you, Sier Galvary, and Egil,” he said. “We can go deeper into this tomorrow, but now—I would like to explore more of the palace grounds while there is still light.”

“Of course, Sir King,” they both said, looking relieved.

In the low slanting light of evening, Kieri asked Astil how to find the garden he remembered. “It had roses,” he said.

“Yes, Sir King! I know the one. It’s through here—”

Kieri came out into the evening sky, pale blue with high wisps of gold. In the silence, he could hear the sound of water trickling somewhere. Stone-flagged paths curved among thorny bushes, some pruned low and some as high as his head. A few tiny leaves showed purple-red; most of the leaf buds looked pinkish.

“By your coronation, the early flowers will have opened,” Astil said. “It is not all roses here; you will see. It is said the elf queen planted it.”

“My mother,” Kieri said. He had a moment’s clear memory: the smell of roses and the sound of her laugh.

After dinner that evening, Kieri asked Dorrin and Paks to look at the maps with him.

“What do you see?” he asked.

Dorrin ran her finger around the line of the border. “Where are the defenses? I see no indication of fortresses.”

“Rangers,” Paks said. “I served with them, as you know. They’re effective on the Tsaian side, at least.”

“Effective against brigands and poachers,” Kieri said. “Paks, you’ve seen them—how would they do against a few cohorts of infantry—mine or Halveric’s?”

“In pitched battle—their longbows have more range than you’d think. But they don’t fight in formation at all, as far as I know. On open ground, the cohorts would win, but rangers would hide in the forest and it would be hard to keep a camp safe from them.”

“And if an attacker cut down or burned the forest? How many are there, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Paks said. “They work in small groups—even singly sometimes—moving every few days.”

“Someone will know,” Dorrin said. “Cutting down the forest—that would be a task. I wouldn’t want to try it, not unless I had more than two or three cohorts. Would the elves intervene, do you think?”