C H A P T E R  T W E L V E

RAISED FROM
THE DEAD

Raisa was waiting for Amon in the common room of the dormitory when he returned from his late recitation. Maps of the Seven Realms lay scattered across the table in front of her. She was supposed to be writing an essay on how geography had shaped the great battles of the past, but she was having trouble concentrating. In fact, all she’d managed so far was a title. “How Geography Has Shaped the Great Battles of the Past.”

It was still pouring rain, and Amon looked weary and worn down as he stripped off his wet cloak. Five days a week he had patrol duty at 6:30 a.m., and his late recitation on Modern Weaponry ran until ten p.m.

“Blood of Hanalea,” he grumbled, hanging up his cloak. “It takes a special talent to make weaponry boring.” He yawned hugely. “Do you think you remember what you hear in your sleep?” He sloshed the teapot to check the water level, then put it on to boil.

“He’s alive,” Raisa said, practically bursting with the news. “I saw him. Cuffs Alister.”

“What?” Amon flopped down in a chair and tugged off his boots. He inspected his feet, wrinkled his nose, and began peeling off his socks.

“Cuffs Alister,” Raisa repeated. “He’s here.”

Amon stopped peeling and looked up, frowning. “What are you talking about?”

“I was walking across the courtyard near the stables and he nearly rode into me.”

The socks dropped to the floor. “What would Alister be doing in Oden’s Ford? That doesn’t make sense.” Amon leaned forward, hands on his knees, his face hard and intent. “Did you speak with him? Did he recognize you?”

Raisa shook her head. “Well, no. As soon as I recognized him, I ran away.”

“You ran away?” Amon lifted an eyebrow. “You didn’t think that might raise his suspicions?”

“Well, yes,” Raisa said, feeling irritated. “I didn’t know what to do. I never expected to see him here. You told me he was dead.”

“He’s supposed to be dead,” Amon said, as if Cuffs had pulled a nasty trick by being alive. He paused, chewing on his lower lip. “You sure it was him?”

She scowled at him. “I know it was him.”

The teapot shrilled. Amon pried himself out of his chair and crossed barefoot to the hearth. “Want some tea?” he asked, spooning leaves into a cup and pouring for himself.

“It was Cuffs Alister,” Raisa repeated stubbornly, ignoring Amon’s question. He poured a cup for her anyway and set it on the table in front of her.

He looked slightly less agitated, and Raisa knew he was convincing himself she’d been mistaken. “It’s been raining all day,” he said, sitting back down. “So I’m guessing he was cloaked and hooded up.”