She awoke next morning feeling better than she had for many days. She pushed the covers back and got slowly to her feet, noticing that the other beds in the room were all empty. She folded the blankets and put them back where she had found them, then went outside and headed for the well. After a drink of wonderful, fresh water (water out of flasks has the tendency to become stale), she gave her face a wash and then began to wonder about breakfast.

Happily she spotted Evin and hurried to join him.

“Good morning, Fia,” he said, and hugged her. Then he held her at arm’s length and looked straight into her eyes, and it was not a child he was looking at anymore.

“Rest well?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Good.” He glanced over at the guard who had just come up. Fia recognized him as one of those that had locked Arlot away.

“Bad news, Brithin,” the fellow said apologetically. “That scoundrel escaped early this morning.”

“I told you to watch him.” Evin shook his head.

“I know…” The other tried to think of an excuse that didn’t sound like an excuse. “Well, we’re soldiers not jailers, and barely even soldiers. Last summer I was watching my scapegrace younger brothers, and now I’m guarding expert sneak-thieves.” He stubbed his toe into the dirt and looked up. “I am sorry, Brithin.”

“Ah….” Evin sighed. “How’d he do it?”

“Well, I came on at midnight and went till dawn… but my relief didn’t show up. So I just stepped away for a minute to yell up at him, wake him, you know. Well, the next instant I stepped back around and there he was, on this side of the cellar door. I ran at him, but he slipped out of my reach; like an eel he was! He plunged deeper into the basement halls, and I called for a few fellows to join me, but when we had searched the place all we found was an open window, out onto the street. A tiny little one it was, too; he must be part weasel to get through a hole like that!”

“Well, when I came back and examined the door, to see how he got out, you know, I found this in the lock.” He held up the small, guilty object, and Fia recognized the skeleton key. The same one she had used at Gilahdro’s. “Must have gotten stuck in the lock and he left it when I returned sooner than he expected.”

He handed it over to Evin, and her brother looked it over.

“I guess he comes prepared for that sort of thing, eh?” the guard said in chagrin.

Evin laughed and shook his head in disbelief. “I guess you were right, Fia, when you said he was related to snakes.” He plopped the little key into her hand, and turned back to his friend. “Well, don’t fuss about it too much; I’m sure we’ve got bigger fish to fry than one petty hooligan. Still, it’s a good lesson in jail-keeping, and I hope you’ll be more careful next time.”

“You bet I will! I never saw the like. I guess I wasn’t exposed to enough criminals while growing up.”

Evin clapped him on the shoulder and sent him away, and Fia sensed that this was a whole new world for him, one far removed from the picture she had always carried of their brothers. This was no farm-like atmosphere of home, but a sterner, more vigorous role; where her idolized older brother was now a leader of men. And apparently, to many a hero as well. She would never know all that made up this world for him, but she was proud of the way he moved through it.

“Evin…” she began. Then she changed. “Do you want this back?” She played with the little skeleton key.

“No, keep it.” He shook his head, his thoughts already on the things that needed done that day, the changes that might be nearing, his part in the effort here. “A souvenir.”

She half laughed and bit her lip. He had no idea how serious a souvenir it was. She shoved it into her pocket. “All right.”

“I better go. Have you had anything to eat?”

She shook her head.

“Well, go get something quick, ’cause we’re sending your party out right away. I’ve got to check our supplies; there’s little to spare here in any case. We’ll need to be moving soon ourselves; it was lucky that you came when you did.” He patted her shoulder farewell. “There’s something to eat over that way.” He nodded his head. “Hurry now.”

“Evin, I’m sorry,” she began. “I really don’t know how to explain everything…”

He shook his head. “The Captain has spoken with me about you, and I know all I need to know. You do not have to explain anything.” He smiled. “I have only this to say: don’t come back to Othira, Fia. You were lucky to get away with it this time. I may very well lose a brother before this is through, don’t let me lose a baby sister.” He smiled again, but sadly, and she gulped. It was all so serious, and frightening.

“I’ll try,” she managed around the lump in her throat.

“The Captain says your group must be on its way before the sun reaches midmorning. That means you’ll be getting safe away from here, and I’m glad. But I won’t be able to talk with you again; I’ve duties to look to. It has been good to see you… When you get back tell everyone I miss them, will you?”

“We miss you, too, Evin,” she said. “I’ll let them know.” She wasn’t certain if she actually was going home again, but she’d be able to send a letter and pass his message on in that way.

“I have to leave now.” He bent and kissed her cheek, and she kissed his in return. “Good-bye and good luck, then, sister.”

“Good-bye, Evin. Take care.”

“Sure will.” He grinned. Then he hurried away.

“Good-bye,” she whispered. She didn’t know what was going to happen, tomorrow or the next day, but somehow she felt certain that they’d all be together again at the Manor, sometime, when the trouble in Othira was settled and done for.

At that she smiled, and went to find something to eat for breakfast.

Fia asked for breakfast from a stout man stirring a cooking pot, and she accepted the steaming hot bowl in return. Gasping at the temperature, she hurriedly downed its contents, deciding not to wonder if her tongue would ever recover. It seemed to be a stew of some sort, and she fished out an arrowhead that had somehow slipped past the apparently harried butcher.

Glad that she hadn’t broken a tooth on it, she put it in her pocket and scraped the bowl clean. Eating was not done for enjoyment here, she could tell. It was a utilitarian matter, and even though her spoiled palate caused her to wrinkle her nose at the telltale grease of mutton that slicked over the roof of her mouth, she knew that this breakfast would stick with her a long time. And here, that was what mattered most.

When she had eaten she inquired after the supplying of the group from Arnithera and was told that it was in the charge of a lieutenant named Hethrin.

She came across the Captain as she was asking, so she just went along with him as he went to see how the supplying was going. As they drew near to the place he brought his hood over his head to hide his face, and although she wondered she did not speak.

“Go on,” he said, when they arrived on the edge of the scene. “I shall stay here.”

He stepped over out of the path, leaving her to continue on her own.

She could see Ilido in the midst of overseeing the loading of the supplies into packs and distributing them. He looked up as she stopped outside the circle.

“There’s your horse, Fia. We’re almost ready to move out.” He nodded towards the place where her cob was tied awaiting her. Then he grinned, too busy to ask questions. “Good thing you ran into the right town watch, I was worried we might have to form a rescue party!”

“No,” she laughed it off and shook her head. “No need.”

Then she happily retrieved her cob, his fuzzy brown hide like an old friend to her hand.

Then Ilido gave the command for everyone to mount up and head out. Fia stood beside Lieutenant Hethrin as the others filed past and out onto the road.

Ilido stepped closer to her. He indicated the brown-cloaked figure by the house wall. “Who is he?” he asked.

“He is called the Captain,” she replied. “I don’t know any other name. I think they may work with Gilahdro; they are trying to find out who, or what, is behind this war. It’s what you spoke of, the weak spot you couldn’t see. They’re looking for it.”

“I must speak with him, then,” Ilido said enthusiastically.

“No!” Hethrin said sharply. Then he lowered his tone. “The Captain is strict that as few people see him as possible; he does many of his errands himself and cannot afford to be recognized even for a moment’s time.”

Ilido’s countenance fell, but his eyes still glowed. “Then what can I do to help?” he asked.

“No, Your Highness.” Hethrin shook his head. “This must be secretive. They know about you, and are looking for you. You must not be found. Continue as you have been; what you are doing is of much value as well.”

The brown-cloaked captain remained near the house wall a few lengths away. He could hear all that was said, but at this distance nothing but shadows could be made out beneath his hood. He had neither spoken nor stirred since they three had stood there. Fia could feel his alertness, even though he was shrouded in the cloak. She could tell he was watching avidly, and yet restraining himself, holding himself apart with an effort. She did not know why; she could only feel that it seemed as though something was inside him splitting slowly, something tearing in two and yet clinging together, like a knotted log that resists being halved.

She wished that she knew the reason, that she could say something to him that would give him peace, but she felt as if a thousand leagues stretched between them even if they were to stand a hand’s breadth apart. It was as if they were on opposite sides of the Twin Cliffs that Lorsia’s first king had climbed and claimed. That she stood on the highest rock on the point of Juttri and he on the jutting pinnacle of Lowrie’s Spear, and though they could see each other well, words would not carry, for there was too much ocean in the rift between.

And so she turned away from the solitary figure by the house wall, wrapped in weathered brown, and listened to what Ilido said to Hethrin.

“We thank you for your generous help,” Ilido said. “And if there is ever anything we can do to assist you in your work, you have but to ask.”

“My Captain will remember your words, and thanks you for them,” the lieutenant replied.

They bowed their heads in mutual salute, and then she and Ilido mounted, turned their horses’ heads, and made their way out of the town. Before she lost sight of him she turned and looked back at the Captain. He stood a few steps out from the wall where he had been standing before. Hethrin was speaking to him, but he was looking after the departing riders. On an impulse she lifted her hand and waved to him. He turned his head away, taking in what Hethrin said, and then he looked back at her. She had lowered her hand but was still watching him. Carefully, as if for no one else to see, he lifted his gloved hand, chest high and close to his torso, in a silent benediction.

She watched him as her cob followed Ilido’s mount, staying twisted around to look back until a building shut him from view. He had not looked away, nor lowered his hand while she was yet able to see him.

There was something to him, an aspect that her mind could not understand, a pinnacle that she could not climb, and yet could not ignore. She remembered the strange dream she had of him the night before Andro and Ilido had gone over the mountain, and wondered at the fascination that the Captain held.

What was it that made some people seem so much more real than others? Three men she had met only briefly, did not know personally, and yet she noticed the same thing about them. The Captain, Gilahdro, and King Hanor. They were all different from each other, but they shared one thing in common: they loomed above all the others in memory, or in person. Was it the touch of greatness she felt there?

They caught up with the others shortly, but right before they did so Ilido pulled up short and waited for her to come abreast of his mount. When she neared he turned his horse around so that his back was to the line of refugees not far away.

“Here,” he said in a low voice, and pressed a small ragged bundle into her hands. She could feel its solid weight, the Sunlight Stone.

“You keep track of this,” he said, then a grin quirked his lips. “After all, you’re the jeweler.”

“Only apprentice,” she reminded him. “And you forget my other occupation: thief’s assistant.”

He winced at that. “We’re both in that same boat.”  Then he smiled. “And, well then, here’s your chance to redeem yourself.”

She still hesitated.

“Take care of it for me, Fia,” he asked seriously. “I’m… I’m afraid I’ll lose it.”

“All right.” She nodded, and accepted the important bundle.

But Ilido had another thing on his mind still.

“That man in the brown cloak as we left,” he said as he knitted his brow. “There’s something familiar about him.”

“Well, if he’s in such a high position and still rather young for a war leader, he must be fairly high nobility, and that’s probably why he doesn’t want to be seen by anyone other than his own men. His life must be in danger constantly. He may even be another relation to the king.” She shrugged. “You’ve probably seen him at court all the time.”

He glanced up. “I haven’t actually been there, all that often.”

“Then no wonder you can’t place him,” she said, and smiled. He shrugged as well, and they rejoined the line.

She tucked the important stone deep inside her many wraps, as safe as she could make it. Its little spot of cold slowly warmed, and as she rode she was reminded of Evin’s river pebble.

Warm and dull, shiny and cold.

What about if things were dull and cold?

That’s certainly how it seemed now.

But she put it out of her mind, trying to think only of getting through the mountains at the fastest possible rate.

They met the wounded at Lookout Knob. That contingent had not had any trouble at all and were well rested to begin the next day.

There was a set of caves in the rocks under one side of the Knob, and a series of thick firs sheltered the mouths so that it was safe to have a fire in certain places. Those who had come earlier had tended their bivouac well, and Fia’s group were grateful to find warmth and a simple, cooked meal at the end of their trek.

That evening Fia took a thread and needle out of her traveler’s pouch and carefully sewed her dress pocket shut over the yellow gem. Satisfied there was no way it could be lost now, she snipped the thread and returned the needle to its place.

She had no trouble sleeping this night. Although the air was warmer here than in the higher mountains, and the fire helped, it was good, old-fashioned exhaustion that carried her swiftly out to the sea of dreamless slumber.

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