Now The Which simply said, “I hope so.” Without further preamble, she reached into a jeweled satchel slung over her shoulder and extracted a single item. “Take this. You will need it when facing the Dogs.”

Warman Kohl stared at the object, incredulous. He was an exemplary soldier, used to taking orders and then executing those orders without question or delay. But that was only because those orders invariably made sense. This thing in the hand of The Which made no sense at all. It was a joke. It had to be. Had he really killed a good man, a legend, for this mockery?

“An apron?” he asked. “You’re not serious?”

One glance at their faces and he could see that they were. Very. The bundle of cloth offered by The Which was unmistakably a blue checked apron, and neither of the nobles seemed to find any irony or amusement in it.

“Surely you do not question the wisdom of a magi seer?” Chancellor Olaf said. He was not a physically imposing man, slight of build though tall, but when he spoke, he brought the power and imperiousness of the throne to bear.

Kohl was quickly contrite. “No, Chancellor Olaf,” he said, promptly taking the apron from The Which’s outstretched hand. He examined it carefully, hoping desperately to glean some hidden use for the thing other than the obvious.

I’m supposed to harness the Dogs, not cook them, he thought.

“I only interpret what was written by the Predeciders,” The Which said. Again, she spoke with such prescience that it reminded him to mind his thoughts. “In the bottommost level of the Tree, you will find three chambers presided over by three Dogs,” she went on. “They guard the Tinderbox. Place the apron on the ground in the first chamber before the smallest of the Dogs. I cannot explain the reason why except to assure you that if you are truly the chosen soldier, you will be granted access to the other chambers and more will be revealed to you.”

Warman Kohl glanced back at Cap. He seemed nervous, flitting his wings and shifting. A whisper of doubt passed through Kohl’s mind. He had learned to trust Cap’s animal instinct, giving him his head in battle and taking his lead. His anxiety now made Kohl wonder what danger his birdun sensed that he could not. Still, Kohl concluded, at least now his mission was clear. He turned back to The Which and could not resist one last parting jibe.

“As you command. But, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll be taking my sword as well.”

He did just that and then pressed onward without waiting for a response. A massive pile of rubble blocked the main entrance to the Tree, and Kohl realized that he had to scale the exterior of the structure to get inside. He spied a ragged hole in the building far above him, and it occurred to him that Cap could convey him to that height with just a few flaps of his mighty wings. It also occurred to him that he was in no position to ask for favors, especially after his flippant farewell to The Which. And so, climb he must, although, in truth, the task was less than challenging for the capable warman.