“The altar made you remember. And the mirror did as well, by strengthening your connection to the altar. A Guardian’s staff has many uses. One is to aid a new Guardian in awakening. By fully knowing what you were, you can perhaps accept what you are now, what is right and what is wrong, and where your duty lies.”

“I want to go back to my tribe.”

A rising wind rumbled over the saddle, promising rain. He tasted its sweetness on his lips.

“I want to go home,” she said as the first falling raindrops slid down her face.

“Come, lass, take cover.” He indicated the overhang.

But even after the horses wisely broke for shelter, she remained out in the open while the rain hammered her, as if she were praying for obliteration.

THE RAIN SLACKENED to a drizzle, which faded to drips, and a ray of sun lightened the blooming terraces of veil of mercy and hundred-petaled butter-bright until the colors dazzled. In Argent Hall, Joss sat cross-legged at his desk, looking out through the open doors at the marshal’s garden and the two reeve hopefuls who had been put to work weeding. The young men talked together in the way of new acquaintances who have discovered they like the same things: the best kind of hook for catching white-mouth, the best weight of stick for a casual game of hooks-and-ropes, the best fertilizer if you wanted a better yield from your jabi bushes. Farm boys.

“Marshal?” The clerk sat with hands folded in his lap. He was a slender lad with a narrow face, dark eyes, and a freshly shaved head with a healing nick over behind the left ear. “Was there more?”

“Neh, not if you got that lot of correspondence complete. You can go, Udad.”

“Yes, Marshal.” He hesitated, not gathering up his supplies.

The lad had an inability to ask questions directly that Joss found exceedingly tiresome. “I meant you were free for the rest of the day. Do you want to go back to Olossi?”

“Not if you need me, Marshal.”

Joss surveyed the neat stacks of correspondence ready to be carried by eagle to their intended recipients, and the striking lack of mess in the chamber. A cupboard divided into shelves and cubbies was organized according to subject matter and sender or some other arcane system Joss hoped he would never have to decipher. “We’ve done enough. Take a pair of free days, if that’s what you’d like.”

“If you’re sure it’s not too much trouble, Marshal.”

“If I did, I wouldn’t offer,” said Joss dryly. “Be back by twilight on Resting Snake. That’ll give you three free days in Olossi.”

“Thank you!” Still, he did not rise.

“Is there something else?”

Siras was sitting by the door, idly chiseling patterns in a broken plank. Without looking up, he said, “I think Udad is hoping a reeve can ferry him to Olossi.”

“Of course! You’ll go with the correspondence. You can deliver it yourself tonight. Otherwise, you’d spend your three days’ leave walking there and back.” With an eagle always at his disposal, it was difficult for Joss to remember how long it took other people to get around.