Gaborn shuddered at the thought of his task, that he was supposed to somehow gauge the worth of men, save some, discard others. This would have to become the work of his whole soul, his every waking thought. Yet even then, he had no guarantee that he could succeed. “What of Iome?”

“A good woman, I think,” Binnesman said. “She is very much in touch with the powers, can feel their most subtle influence, better than you—or I. She would be an asset.”

“I love her,” Gaborn said.

“Then what are you doing here?” Binnesman asked.

“Giving her time alone, to grieve. I fear that if she accepts me, her people might revolt. They will not want me.”

“I would not worry about her people, only about her. Do you think she wants you to leave her alone? Do you think she doesn’t love you?”

“She loves me,” Gaborn said.

“Then go to her, soon. If she grieves, then grieve with her. Sharing our pain makes our wounds heal faster.”

“I . . . it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not now. Not so soon—after.”

“I spoke with her not an hour ago,” Binnesman said. “She asked for you. She wants to see you on some urgent matter, tonight—soon.”

Gaborn studied the wizard’s face, wondering. It seemed madness to go to her now, considering how her people felt about him. Yet if Iome had asked for him, perhaps she had good reason. Perhaps, he thought, they had treaties to discuss. She would need money to repair her castle. House Sylvarresta might need loans, armies. . . .

He would give whatever she asked, of course.

“All right,” Gaborn said. “I’ll see her.”

“At sunset,” Binnesman said. “Don’t let her be alone after sunset.”

Binnesman’s words encouraged Gaborn. What good was it to have a wizard as your counselor, he reasoned, if you did not listen to his wisdom?

61

PEACE

Gaborn did not leave the manor before sunset. He took time to warm some water in the kitchens, to bathe and rub his hair with lavender; to scrub his armor with the soft leaves of lamb’s ear, so that he’d present himself well.

By evening the clouds blew out of the region altogether, and warmer air now suffused the night, almost as if it were any other afternoon in late summer. The scents of grass and oak grew strong in the air.

Borenson and Myrrima stayed behind at the manor.

Only the wizard Binnesman and Gaborn’s Days rode with him to Longmot. There, thousands of people worked in the twilight, salvaging supplies from the castle, cleaning the dead. More warriors arrived from farther north—eight thousand knights and men-at-arms from Castle Derry, headed by Duke Mardon, arriving unexpectedly at the summons of Groverman.

Gaborn reached camp, and was escorted to Iome by a guard who seemed friendly enough.