“Mandarin.” Evanne glanced at it absently. “Is she going to be okay?”

  The might-be-an-all-powerful-sorcerer-but-could-also-be-a-fake didn’t glance at Tarragon. “Hard knock, that trip down.” He breathed in then gave a decisive exhale. “I’ve got no idea.”

  “You what?” Evanne straightened.

  “Kid, I’ve lived for sixteen years in a demon realm. It felt like a hundred. Time doesn’t work right on that side. In all that time, I learned honesty is the best policy. Say what you mean.” He shrugged. “And admit when you don’t know something. She looks like she’s sleeping.”

  “Can’t you,” Evanne wiggled her fingers, “fix her?”

  “The Three have it out for me.” Meri shrugged. “You see, I found this book.”

  “Is this going to be a long story?”

  The wizard ignored her. “It was called the Tome of High Magic.”

  “Let me guess. Secrets of the universe unravelled at your feet.”

  He poked the fire with a stick, freeing a flurry of embers to chase each other skyward. “More or less, actually. There are rules. I can’t make life. I can’t bring something back to life. And I can’t summon the gods.” He looked wistful. “I broke one and a half of those last time I was here.”

  “How do you break half a rule?”

  “The same way you break a cookie in half.”

  “This story needs to hurry up.” Evanne knew she was being brittle with him, but Tarragon was hurt.

  “Ha.” He stared into the flames, his eyes capturing the orange dance and playing it back for her. “The book tells me how the world is made.”

  “It told you. Past tense.”

  Meri tapped his temple. “I remember everything I see. It’s all up here.” He sighed. “There are things I would prefer to forget.”

  “Can the book tell you how to make miracles happen?” At Meri’s searching eyebrow, Evanne fetched a stick and poked the fire, perhaps too aggressively. “I started this quest because Mama and Papa were killed by a monster. I wanted revenge. Things … got out of hand. I found a place where sick people were made well, but not anymore. I’ve released a giant tiger and resurrected a dragon. But all these things are … insufficient. There’s a bad man who’s trying to kill me, but I don’t think it’s personal. I think he wants me out of the way so he can do,” she wiggled her fingers, “all the rest of it. Mama and Papa are alive, or so the dragon said. So, now we just need to make it to the bad man and put a stop to this.”

  “You mean, ‘kill him’.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t feel happy about it. “I don’t even know Wild Sur. And I don’t know why he wants to kill me.” Evanne leaned forward, peering over the heat haze into Meri’s eyes. “So, magic man. Can you whip up a miracle that will make that stop?”

  “You mean, kill him from here?”

  “I mean, make him not want to kill me. I don’t want to kill anyone.”

  Meri was quiet for a spell, poking the fire without much vigour. “I don’t think so. The hearts of people are their own. Enchanters can make people do things, but everyone hates those dickheads.” Evanne snorted. “Even enchanters can’t do it forever. They need to work at it. The Sway can do it, but the cost would be high. To change the nature of a person? I think it would eat the whole of the Justiciar trying it.”

  “Figures.” Evanne brooded. “Why does he want to kill me, anyway? And how does he keep finding me?”

  “The answer to the second is related to the first.” Meri leaned elbows on knees. “You have an aura. It displaces the world around you, like putting your finger into water. I bet Wild Sur can use the platforms above,” he pointed to the sky, “to see wherever you might be.”

  “That sucks.”

  “As to what this aura does, my guess is change the nature of people’s hearts.” He shrugged. “You speak with more than confidence, kid. You speak as if Sway is your second nature. As if you can touch the heart of someone at a level an Enchanter could only dream of. Perhaps change them forever. This Wild Sur clown? He’s a zealot. A believer. And you’re inconvenient to that.”

  “I just … sing.”

  “Maybe.” Meri sounded unconvinced. “Tarragon was reforging armour for you.”

  Evanne looked at her lover, still out for the count. “It belonged to Hitch.”

  “It’s a weapon?”

  “I saw a vision.” Evanne shivered. “Hitch fought a demon at a gate and pushed the monster back.”

  “It usually takes a Knight with more than three gold bars to do that.”

  “He died, but he did it.” She shrugged. “I think I’ll need more than songs to save the world.”

  “You need your mother.” Meri stood. “And your father, much as it pains me to admit it.”

  “I need more than that.” Evanne gazed at him. “I need a giant ship that sails the sky. I need a dragon and a tiger. An oracle who can’t see the future, and a magic man with no powers.” She ignored his wince. “I need my aunt and uncle, not because they are a ritualist and warrior of significant puissance, but because they will stand with me even if they disagree. I need the strong right arm of the best woman I’ve ever known. All of you. I need all of you. And I don’t know why.”

  “It’s because we’re family.” Tarragon’s voice was a husk. Evanne whirled, seeing the once-fairy sitting up, pale as a moonflower, but eyes hard as emerald. “And we’ll do anything for you.”

  Evanne surged up and hurried to Tarragon. She stroked her face, smoothing aside her hair. “Love. You’re okay.”

  “I hurt, everywhere at once,” Tarragon confided.

  “I’m sorry.” Evanne pulled her close, but gently. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

  “You saved us,” the Raven said. Evanne turned to see the queen leaning on Heser’s granite posture as the pair emerged from the trees. “You took the blow that would have ended us. I saw it all.”

  “But we fell.” Evanne touched Tarragon’s face again. “We fell so far.”

  “And scattered wide.” Morgan eased away from Heser’s side. “There was a … device of some kind in the room. It enveloped the guardsman and I, and spat us out the side.”

  “The guardsman?” Evanne blinked.

  “My, uh.” The Raven Queen faltered.

  “You should work out what he is to you before Tilly gets here,” Meri said. “She will want to know.”

  “And how is the High Justiciar going to find us? We are no longer aboard the ship.” Heser’s gravel rumble held no resentment about being a guardsman, and Evanne wondered if that’s how he thought of himself. The person best to be by the Raven’s side, her shield, her support, for always.

  “Easy,” Meri breezed. “I turned the tops of all the trees the purple we can’t see but bees can.”

  Evanne goggled. “You can do that?”

  “Eh.” He shrugged. “They’ll stop being purple when I stop thinking about it. The good news is dragons can see very well indeed. I expect anyone looking down on us from above without a dragon or a tame bee won’t see anything at all. But a dragonrider? One of those will find us very soon indeed.”

  Evanne didn’t need to wait long for Mama to arrive. She heard it first—not the beat of dragony wings, but the intake of breath as the Raven spotted the dragon. Evanne looked up, seeing Morgan’s eyes wide, mouth slightly open, face fixed on the horizon beyond the lake.

  She turned, and sure enough: a dragon. The skies of Or’sen and Imshir had been free of the span of mighty wings for most of a millennium and now here was a second dragon in as many years. Even at this distance the size impressed. The creature was blue, not the lacklustre of dull paint, but the brilliant metallic hues of azure, ultramarine, and ocean. His scales caught the sun’s rays and played with them.

  Brushing herself off, she stood. Tarragon made to walk forward, but Evanne put a hand on her arm. “I’d best do this one solo.”

  “You think she’s going to be mad?” Tarragon bit her lip.

  “I think she’s journeyed across two kingdoms to find me. She will be incandescent.”

  “It wasn’t your fault!”

  “There’s fault, and there’s responsibility.” Evanne brushed rust locks back. “And because all the people whose fault it is aren’t here, she will take it out on me.” She offered a smile she didn’t feel. “It’s fine.”

  “Maybe I should come. Moral support.” Tarragon worried her lip with perfect teeth.

  Evanne smoothed it with a thumb. “It helps knowing you’re here. Safely away from her reach.”

  “Nowhere in throwing range is safe,” Meri offered.

  “Not helping.” Evanne considered her guitar, then left it where it lay. She strode from the group to the lake’s edge. It was passably clear of trees, affording the dragon a place to land.

  The dragon was coming in fast. He scorched the sky with the crackle of lightning, spread his wings, and then landed right in the water. A gout of it showered Evanne, drenching her—again!—head to toe. She gritted her teeth and glared at the beast. “Motherfucker!”

  //I SEE YOU REMEMBER ME.//

  “Eat a bag of dicks.” Evanne spat water.

  “Hold on that command.” Evanne’s heart stuttered a moment as Mama’s voice came from atop the dragon. Myryntir leaned forward, head coming level with Evanne’s, and affording a view of the High Justiciar. Vertiline shone perhaps brighter than the dragon she rode, platinum hair defying the sun’s brilliance, blue eyes sharper than dragonscale. She slid easily from the dragon’s back as if she’d done it her whole life and stepped neatly to the shore without getting an ounce of lake on her boots. Evanne was somewhat gratified to see mud clung to Mama’s shoes just like everyone else’s.

  Evanne wondered what one was supposed to do when your mother, who was also the High Justiciar, and angry, stepped off dragonback to stand before her. She’d rehearsed the conversation in her head a thousand times in the last fifteen minutes, and perhaps ten thousand within the hour. She straightened, and said, “Um.”

  Vertiline stepped forward and grabbed Evanne in a hug tight enough to crush even Vhemin bones. Evanne smelled her, that scent of flowers and home she’d missed, yearned for these past months. Vertiline murmured in her ear as she stroked Evanne’s hair. “My love, my girl. My sweet thing. You are safe. You are safe.”

  And then Evanne cried. She cried for the people lost, and the people yet to die, but she cried mostly for herself, because she missed her mother. She hugged Mama back, not the High Justiciar, not the best swordswoman in the world, not the teacher of the school of Tresward, but her mother. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I tried, but the people, they died, but others, um. I’m sorry.”

  Vertiline pulled away a little but kept both hands on Evanne’s arms. Looked at her, up and down, then into her eyes. An almost imperceptible nod, one warrior to an equal of what she saw there. “There is naught to be sorry for, daughter, my dearest, my heart. There are villains, and we must end them.”

  “Um,” Evanne said. “I had this whole speech, and you know, about how I’d have to convince you, um.”

  “Much has been made clear to me. One of my students rode Myryntir the Protector to your ship in the sky. He found a wasteland of destruction and no daughter mine. He found a tiger of curious stripe in the woods, then came to get me, which he should have done in the first place. I said to send the dragon west.” This last was through gritted teeth.

  //THAT WAS MY BAD. I MIGHT HAVE PRESSURED HIM A LITTLE.//

  “He is my student, not yours, dragon.” Vertiline didn’t look at the beast. “Once the shape of things was made clear, our course was plain also. The Vide have come from the cracks in the grouting. No place is safe for you but by my side. And I will be going to beard the lion in his den.”

  Evanne sighed, a tension in her relaxing, a pressure released she hadn’t noticed was there. “I have tried to keep them safe, Mama. The Raven Queen is stubborn. Uncle Heser refuses to die when most men would have given up the journey. An old friend of yours is here, a lordling who styles himself as the most powerful mage ever, but who can’t light a candle by himself. And, uh. I’ve someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Vertiline took this news with a slow nod, not settling on any particular moment. “Meriwether du Reeves lives?”

  “I didn’t say his name. How did you know?”

  “Because I know him well. He is my brother by choice.” Vertiline looked past Evanne to the small huddle by the tree line. A small smile played at her lips as she took in the people there, her eyes turning a soft celeste. “Come, daughter. I would meet this person dear to you.”

  “I, um. I didn’t say that, but um. She’s very important. She can wield a magic sword.”

  “That is not why she is important.” Vertiline took Evanne’s hand and led her toward the group. She let go when Meri stepped forward. “Sinner. You’ve not aged well.”

  He grinned, then laughed, stepped forward, and swooped her in a hug. Evanne had only seen Papa do that to Mama; any other man would have been murdered, but here Vertiline was, not just tolerating it but laughing back. When the mage put her down, she leaned into the hug, then placed a kiss on his cheek. He seemed abashed, but said, “The years have been a kindness to you.”

  “I thought teaching infants would send me to an early grave, but it seems the Three have another destiny in mind.” Vertiline nodded to the Raven and Heser, who stood side by side, so close to touching it was electric. “Cousin, what news?”

  “My kingdom is overrun by imbeciles,” Morgan offered.

  “Your brother is of no moment. That problem was resolved when we visited Ravenswall. But the source of the villainy remains.” She nodded to Heser. “Have you kept her safe? Have you kept her well?”

  “Always, my lady.” Heser gave a small bow, then a smile cracked his visage. “The Three are Merciful. Gods, it is good to see you.”

  One person stood back. Tarragon, a stranger amid a group of old friends. She was biting her lip again, and Evanne wanted to kiss her, to hold her. To bring her forward.

  Vertiline strode past the guardsman to the once-fairy, and gave her a look up and down, eyes settling for a moment on Requiem. Tarragon looked at the sword, said, “Um. Hic.” Then unbelted it and offered it to her. “Here.”

  The High Justiciar took Requiem, her face growing sombre before turning to Meri. “What news of my sister?”

  “She lived, last I saw her.” The smile in his eyes died. “She is alone, Tilly. She’s alone again.”

  “I have failed her.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Meri held up a hand. “No, I won’t hear it. There will be time for settling accounts in the future. The task at hand is to open the gate and get her out. There is a functioning portal in the villain’s lair, or so the oracle led us to believe.”

  Vertiline made no comment on ‘the oracle’ but gave a tight nod before turning back to Tarragon. “You have kept my daughter safe?”

  “Hic. I tried. Hic. But, um. And there was, um. Hic.”

  “Then continue to do that.” Vertiline pressed Requiem back into Tarragon’s hands. “You will need a good blade for the task at hand. The weapon knows you. It would brook no ill hand.”

  “You know the sword?”

  “I know the man who forged it. He was more a wonder than this slip of skymetal.” Vertiline offered a small smile to Tarragon. “Would you walk with me? I would have an accounting while others prepare refreshments and plans for our long journey.”

  “Um. Hic.” Tarragon looked past Vertiline with frightened eyes.

  Evanne nodded. “Go, love. She won’t bite anyone but me.”

  “My daughter jests. I will murder any fool on a Tuesday.” Vertiline pulled Tarragon away. “Tell me what you know of Five Skies Afire. It is the middle set of⁠—”

  “It’s my favourite pattern,” Tarragon said. “It’s amazing. It’s got the perfect placement of feet. Um. Hic. Stance? Is that the right word?”

  Evanne watched them go, feeling warm inside. “It’s going to be okay.”

  Meri was at her elbow. “Things are trending positive but the war’s not won yet, kid.” His voice softened when he saw her expression. “But yes. It’s going to be okay.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It took days to reach the camp. Armitage had to walk, because the fucken horses wouldn’t take him. He was the sludge silting the gears of their progress. But he hurried nonetheless. Tilly said She lives, and so his feet knew speed.

  Evanne waited for him. Of course she did. His little girl didn’t miss the chance for an entrance, perched on a low boulder just around a bend in the road. She had new clothes and a lazy smile, but it didn’t make her eyes. He trudged to her boulder and sat beside her. Saw those smile-free eyes, and the hope and fear in them. Thought about blood on the sands, and how much he missed her. She’ll get misty-eyed. She doesn’t have time for it. Shit needs to be done. “You managed to stay alive. Good job.”

  “Papa!” Evanne startled straight, all that practiced nonchalance leaving like a flock of startled starlings.

  “Tilly said you managed to feed yourself, too. It’s like you don’t need us anymore. I don’t even know why we came.”

  She leaned away, and gave him a long, hard stare. “I had this whole speech prepared.”

  “I didn’t come here for your speech.” He scuffed her hair, ignoring her wince and accompanying growl. “Seriously, you did good.”

  She laughed despite herself, then sobered. “I have missed you so much, Papa. I’m sorry. I got lost. I got so lost without you.”

  “You got nothing to be sorry for.” He worried at his scar. “It’s us, Evie. Tilly and I. We need to apologise. We weren’t watching things. Didn’t pay people enough mind. Imshir, you know? It felt we were far enough away from the bullshit. And then a mountain exploded.”

  She leaned against him. He could feel the strength in her, all that Vhemin muscle, but something else that hadn’t been there before. It might have been the death she’d dodged, or the intensity of purpose he loved in Tilly. No longer shy of the world and its ways. Harder than him, maybe two in every five times. “The mountain was unexpected.”