“In the short time I shall be gone, I name my own good wife, the well-loved Lady Helissent, as deputy in my place. To assist her, our allies will remain here until I return in a few days. Give her your loyal service, your strong arms and wise counsel, as you have to me.”

There were more cheers. Mary’s lips moved close to his ear: “Pointing out his wife and children are staying right here,” she said. “That was a smart move.”

When the sound died down, Maugis’ arm went to the trestle tables. “And now let us feast and dance, my brothers and sisters. Whatever storms come, let us remember this day, and that we are one, and that one with the strength of many. Here, and in lands we have never seen.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE WILD LANDS
(FORMERLY HUMBOLDT-TOIYABE NATIONAL FOREST,
NORTHWESTERN NEVADA)
HIGH KINGDOM OF MONTIVAL
(FORMERLY WESTERN NORTH AMERICA)
AUGUST 14, CHANGE YEAR 25/2023 AD

Ritva shivered. Ian put an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned into it gratefully as the dry wind flicked around them, its hooting the only sound besides the spitting crackle of the torch, its scent heavy with the smell of the cut pine logs. Astrid Loring-Larsson looked inhumanly peaceful as she rested on the pyre, hands clasped on the hilt of her sword. Though they were yards away, the downslope put her on their eye-level.

The crossbow bolt was gone, and they’d found a spring of good water here at the edge of the wooded mountains that stretched north and west during their day’s labors. The body had been washed and dressed again in the war-gear and then wrapped to the shoulders in her dark cloak; the long white-gold hair lay over her shoulders, stirring in the breeze beneath a thick wreath of crimson columbine whose blossoms attracted a hummingbird of iridescent green. There was a vulnerable look to the moon-pale face that Ritva didn’t recall seeing before, like a shy wild child lost in dreams.

She shivered again.

“What is it?” Ian repeated, whispering next to her ear.

She wasn’t crying anymore; he knew it wasn’t just grief.

“It was what she said at the end,” Ritva said.

“I didn’t understand it,” Ian said.

And he’d been well back in the gondola when Astrid died in her husband’s arms, with Eilir’s tears falling on her face and John Hordle wringing great paws that suddenly looked so helpless. He didn’t understand the Noble Tongue all that well either yet, of course, and Astrid had been gasping.