"What is it?" Lord Andair said, as he was joined by Gentaff in the hallway.
"Frost has gone into the Hubaran Forests," Gentaff said, matter of fact. The two men continued walking a few more paces, then stopped before a narrow wooden door. "Surely he is searching for Shassel. He goes with two others, the twins who live in Shassel's old cottage, Dorin and Dara. I'm told you know them, that you knew their father."
"True," Andair said, leaving it at that.
"Together, they will be harder to follow. Even without the Demon Blade that would be so."
"I know, but in a way my mind is eased," Andair said, more pleased than he had once thought he might be at such news. The waiting, the not knowing what Frost was up to, he liked that least of all. As for the twins, well, he remembered all that well enough, nasty children playing at curses and such. The whole family was a bothersome, defective lot, but he'd taught them a lessonthose twins and their father. He would teach Frost a similar lesson at least before he was through.
He entered the giant storage room and watched while a barrel of barley for the alewives was rolled near and opened for his inspection. This was the receiving room, just above the castle's main storage rooms, and the place where all Andair's private goods were accounted for before being lowered through the large, square hole in the floor. It was not Andair's job to assess the goods, but he was often on hand. He enjoyed the task, and it tended to prevent a good deal of loss in general. He'd had his eyes opened the first day he happened along and looked things overa little digging beneath the grain had turned up not more grain but rocks, and had necessitated having two stewards put to death. No one had tried to cheat him since, and he had every intention of keeping it that way.
"We both seem so confident," Gentaff said, almost singsong in his tone. "One wonders if it is all justified."
Andair took the other's meaning in stride. "I never doubted this day would come, it was only a question of when," Andair said. "But we do not even know if Shassel is still alive, and if so, is she well enough to help Frost? They have the Blade, but I have you, and Weldhem Castle for another. They are not the type to wipe out the thousands of innocent people and soldiers that inhabit this city just to smite me. So we have some leverage to work with as well as a great many uncertainties that could be problems as well." That was the troubling part, or one of them anyway.
"You have a plan?" Gentaff asked. "No, but of course you do."
"Perhaps."
Andair grinned. "Then we'll do that."
"What you do next may decide the future," Gentaff said. "What I do will come after that."
"Of course," Andair said; then, thinking to turn the wizard's words back, "Which is why we'll hear what you suggest." He glanced over and found Gentaff frowning, which on his moody features tended to make one think of unpleasant things. Andair was unfazed. Having seen his own frown in the mirror times before, he had the confidence of superiority.
"But you are king," Gentaff deferred.
A lively game, Andair thought. One they were both good at. But Andair had traded heavily in countermoves over the years and was especially devoted to letting his opponent lead, which usually allowed for any number of advantages. "And you are Counsel," he said.
Gentaff put a great deal of stock in himself, his intellect, his powers of sorcery, his own goals and his ability to combine them with others. Andair understood this well enough to make it amount to one of Gentaff's few weaknesses.
"Very well," Gentaff replied with a grunt. "I favor the easiest path to our goals. You concern yourself with the day when you might be forced to confront Frost once more, you fear retribution for past deeds, and now that he has the Demon Blade you worry that even I will not prove Frost's equal. You also worry he will use the Demon Blade against you, yet you worry as much that he will keep it forever from you."
Andair wanted the Demon Blade for many reasons: It was priceless for one, but more importantly, in Gentaff's hands it would make Worlish the most powerful realm in this part of the world. Instead of worrying about the Grenarii, their great King Kolhol would fear for his throne's survival instead, and for good reason. Andair liked that idea very, very much. He'd already imagined what it might be like, imagined prolonging for a long time the pleasure of watching Kolhol and his great kingdom dangle on the end of that tenuous string, waiting for the inevitable . . .
"You make yourself clear," Andair said.
"There is only one way to be done with all this worry and speculation. Invite Frost here. Alone. Tell him to bring the Demon Blade. He must want something from you, and perhaps from me. We should know what it is, then bargain."
"What could he want from you?"
"I have information he is no doubt interested in."
"What kind of information?"
"Very old, but it does not concern you," Gentaff told him. "What matters is that we hear him out face to face, after which you will attempt to make him a fresh offer that will be acceptable to everyone. Failing that, we will take what we must ultimately take anyway, no matter. I can be most persuasive. I suspect, given the right incentives, he will come to reason."
"What if he won't listen, won't reason, won't make peace? What if all he wants is vengeance, and he will not rest until my head is splayed on a spire before the city's gates, and yours along with it?"
"You see, you claim we have leverage, yet you worry over what might be. We must learn what is and worry about that instead. We must take the lead."
"Then you suggest we let him enter the castle unhindered and negotiate in good faith," Andair said, "and go again as if he were a bard passing through. This is not like you, Gentaff, or me."
"I suggest no such thing. We will employ every trap and trick imaginable, and use every means so that no matter what happens the outcome will favor us. Whatever magic he commands can be countered, if it is done carefully. That will fall to me. You must be prepared to do the rest."
Better, Andair thought with a small sigh of relief.
More barrels were opened, these filled with finely woven cloth for the castle's tailors. Andair had some of the material brought to him so that he could examine it more closely. "Well and good," he said, waving the servant away. He liked to find fault with even the finest merchandise to keep the tradesmen working at their best, but this whole business with Frost and Shassel and the Demon Blade, not to mention the cursed, growing Grenarii threat on his northern boarders was keeping him sufficiently distracted these days. All of it required too much inspection on its own. A frustrating situation he was at pains to remedy.
"Agreed, then," he told Gentaff, as barrels of spring wheat were hauled through the doors, then rolled on edge and set before him. "Get hold of that same good fellow again, what was his name? The one who fancies himself twice the nobleman of any of my nobles."
"Jons. He is a troubadour by trade."
"Yes. A most ambitious troubadour, eyes on the court, though not so great an entertainer as I recall. We'll try him at this again. Frost did not kill him the first time, so he may not again. And if things go badly his loss will not be so great. I will call my captain as well, and have the two of them come to see me."
"Agreed," said Gentaff, clearly pleased with the whole idea.
"But there is one trouble with all this: We can invite Frost here, but it is likely he may refuse."
"Then we will need a means to insure that he will come. Especially, one that will give us more leverage. I have some ideas. Perhaps we can discuss them."
Andair smiled. He had some ideas of his own. It pleased him that Gentaff was thinking along the same lines. "Meanwhile," he said, "we should prepare some plans that do not rely so heavily on magic. Those are the kind that worked so well on Frost once before. The kind that work on almost everyone. I must know how to find Frost's weaknesses, and use them against him."
"That is your excellence, Excellence," Gentaff said.
Andair turned and glowered at the old wizard, who chose to ignore the expression. That sense of humor again. But Andair knew to let it gofor the time being at least. He watched Gentaff leave, then went back to the business at hand. Wool for weaving was being brought in. Lots of wool. He wished there were someone to do the job for him, someone he could trust. But he was resigned to the fact that there was no such person. He'd never kept a wife or had any children for much the same reason.
"That third bale," he instructed, and two men set about untying it. All proper and accountable he learned, to his satisfaction. Or was it? He had found so few crimes committed here during the past year that no punishments had been required, not so much as a flogging. Nothing to take his mind off his troubles . . .
Now Frost had made his troubles worse by leaps. He decided to let the rest of the stores tend to themselves. If Frost was coming he needed to prepare, he and Gentaff needed to talk in private, the army had to be notified.
At last, a step toward progress, and the end of waiting.
She met them at the door, shorter than Frost remembered, or it was the fault of her declining posture, and she was thinner, as many an aged mage tended to be. But it was Shassel. Her face, with finer features than his even when she was young, had grown almost sharp-edged, though there remained a subtle, crafted kindness about it that even the wrinkles of age had not debased. Her eyes were dark, puffy bags beneath them, but they were blue and keen as ever, endlessly deep and mystifying. Her thick dark hair had been long enough to sit on when last Frost had seen her, but it had been cut to just below her shoulders and was turning mostly white.
She looked much as Frost had imagined, including the part he had imagined mostthe smile that lit her face as she laid eyes on him, and opened her arms to embrace him.
"You look splendid!" she said in a smooth voice that was still the envy of any minstrel, though in a lower key than it once had been. He leaned forward and put his arms gently around her as she hugged him with surprising strength. He felt like he was ten years old again, like he ought never to let go.
"I am a bit lean, I fear," Frost said, standing back again, "but I am determined to fix that. You on the other hand look perfect."
"Do not perjure yourself," Shassel scolded. "I am an old hag at best."
"A looking glass would convince you," Frost said, "but alas, I brought none. I think it best that you return with us to Briarlea at once, so that we can find a good one and settle the issue."
"I may have one about, somewhere."
"It will not do, I'm sure."
"You have things all figured out already, I see," Shassel replied, just grinning.
"Only this part of this day," Frost said. "Everything else is a jumble of bits."
"I thought I taught you to leave jumbled thinking to others?"
"I have come to let you finish the job."
"Indeed," Shassel said, the smile a little bigger now. "I see you found my two latest projects," she added, greeting Dara and Dorin by way of a nod. The twins greeted her in kind, silent and looking utterly tractable.
Frost witnessed this in amazement. "No flip remarks?" he asked them. "Nothing to say?"
"Good-day, Shassel," Dorin said.
"We brought sweetened bread," Dara said.
"And myself, of course," Lurey said, stepping into the doorway, standing back of everyone else. He raised one hand above heads to wave.
"Lurey was kind enough to drop everything and bring us here, as Frost asked," Dorin explained.
"How much did it cost you?" Shassel asked, raising one eyebrow to Lurey.
"Enough," Frost said, to which Shassel gave a nod.
"We trust we did the right thing," Dara said.
"Polite, respectful, and thoughtful," Frost observed, shaking his head as he listened to the twins. "They seem to have undergone some sort of transformation. Most remarkable. You must teach me the spell," he added, turning again to Shassel. "I have never seen the like."
Shassel was grinning like a girl now. "Sometimes I hardly know them myself," she said. "Now, everyone come in. Your warrior friends as well, Frost, if they like. We will finish our introductions over some fresh soup, and that bread of course."
She turned and the others followed her inside. The room was small and sparely appointed, but it looked a little better on the inside than it had outside. Shassel had hung plenty of linens over the two small windows, over gaps in the mortar of old walls, even on much of the earthen floor. Lurey had apparently been generous, though Frost imagined Shassel had been generous in kind. A large stew pot was hung in the hearth, and the smell of soup heavy with greens and spices drifted freely from it. By the time the soup was in the bowls and on the table, everyone was properly acquainted, and the talk had turned from small to large.
"These past few years have been difficult," Shassel said as one by one the bowls were slowly emptied. "With the twins getting older and bolder of course, and Andair suffering much the same fate, and all of them taxing me to the point of distraction."
Dara and Dorin had been saying as little as possible while the two old friends began the task of catching up; they said nothing now, though the looks on their faces were easy enough to read. They knew they were not the easiest pair to deal with, especially for a woman of Shassel's age, which left them short of excuses for themselves, depending on the details. Shassel told several accounts of mischief, the sort common to all children, and everyone managed a laugh or twoespecially Lurey; the peddler was quick to humor by nature, but especially so where Dara and Dorin were concerned. He even managed to embarrass them with a tale about secret plans to visit Wilmar and in particular Wilmar's son Tramet, whom Dara had apparently gotten to be rather good friends with before Shassel decided it might be better for everyone if she and the twins relocated, further east.
"They asked me to take them and I said no, not without Shassel's approval, which I knew they did not have, so instead they tried to steal my horse that night, which"
"Borrow," Dorin corrected.
"which I knew they very well might do, so I decided to sleep with the horse, which was how I was awakened by the two of them tripping over one another and me in the darkness, and caught them in the act!"
"It was a year ago, and we have made it up to Lurey many times over, which is the only reason we've never told you," Dara assured Shassel, who had fixed the two of them with a cold, merciless look.
"We will speak more of this later," Shassel assured them, and they lowered their heads like scolded puppies. "But I have heard a great many things about you, Frost," she continued. "You've made quite a name for yourself."
"What sort of name?"
"They say you are a rogue, a sorcerer for hire, if you approve of the task and those who require it. Which fits you, I think. Though some of the stories are quite fantastic, and some of the fees they say you have garnered for your services must be exaggerated. That, or you are more wealthy than a king."
"There are many kinds of wealth, I have learned that much," Frost said. "And I have been fortunate to acquire a great deal of most of them."
Shassel smiled gently, then she cocked one eye. "Of course there is the story I hear most these days, of you and the legendary Demon Bladeof a battle for half the world fought against a terrible demon and an army of thousands, and all of them left lifeless and destroyed by your hand alone. Surely there is a bit of embellishment in all of that, as is common."
Frost folded his arms across his chest and leaned back. "No, that more or less sums it up."
"Remarkable."
Frost bowed his head. "Many would agree."
Shassel wrinkled her nose at him. "Such bragging of mastery I have never heard, yet I could more easily believe that you have forgotten how to cast even a simple sleeping spell."
"That is possible," Frost said. "Though I will wager you have forgotten a thing or two as well, you being so much older than I, and probably a little absent-minded, as is common."
Shassel was undaunted. "Absent-minded, you say?"
Frost nodded.
"Lurey?" Dara said, collecting everyone's attentions to the peddler; he who was seated comfortably enough in his chair, hands folded neatly across his abdomen, eyes closed, snoozing quite soundly. When he did not respond Dara reached over and shook him. Slowly, he began to come to.
"Still a streak of imp in you, I see," Shassel said. She held him in her gaze. "Dara, go, bring me a small piece of firewood."
Dara nodded once, then got up and went straight to the pile of split logs stacked beside the hearth. She picked one up and brought it to Shassel.
"Give it to Frost, he hasn't had enough to eat," Shassel told her. Dara held out the log, which as much to Dara's surprise as anyone else's, had somehow managed to become a loaf of bread.
"I am quite full, in fact, but I expect a chilly night," Frost answered her. He spoke the base phrases of the spell he needed, then he used Shassel's own binding phrase, loud enough for her to hear, "Tesha teshrea." Then he told Dara to put the "bread" on the table. By the time she did, the loaf had turned back into the piece of maple it had been.
Shassel looked a bit unsettled, or as close to that as Frost hoped she might. "You had forgotten I knew," he said, and saw that she understood exactly.
"I was testing whether you still remembered," Shassel corrected. "I am satisfied."
"Without a doubt," Frost said wryly.
"He is here about the Demon Blade," Dorin said. The stubborn look on his face was clear, the lack of indulgence, though wisely he had stopped short of directly chastising anyone.
"We have at least one in our midst in the mood for serious business," Lurey said, still not fully alert but getting there, and perhaps more anxious than most just now to see the two sorcerers move past their game of magical tit for tat.
"Very well," Frost said, settling his gaze on Shassel once more. "I have a question to ask you."
"No, I do not want the Blade," Shassel said flatly.
"Neither do I," Frost replied.
"Have you ever considered selling it?" Lurey asked, sheepish.
Frost shot him a bitter look, and Lurey put his arms up, palms outhands off.
"Then what do you want?" Shassel asked.
"You knew many of the mages who were present at the last council during the time Ramins was chosen as the Blade's Keeper. But he was already old and others are always chosen to take the place of the Keeper, when the time comes, though it changes according to who is born to whom. The succession is intentionally hard to follow from outside, but I must. I seek to find the next, chosen Keeper, so I can be rid of the cursed thing."
"Some would not think it a curse," Shassel mused.
"Death follows the Blade everywhere, and it will only get worse," Frost said.
"Which is why I do not want it," Shassel said.
"Then help me. As much as I would be rid of it, I cannot allow the Blade to fall into the wrong hands. I have learned many things since it came into my possession. Enough to know that the consequences of a mistake would be far greater than anyone realizes; even you, Shassel, perhaps even me."
They sat looking at one another in silence. No one in the room made a sound. If Shassel knew anything, she had surely sworn an oath never to divulge the information to anyone, under any circumstance. But these were not "any" circumstances, Frost insisted, and he was not "anyone."
"I do not know, I wish I did," she answered, letting her eyes wander as if looking for something other than what she knew was there. "But as you say, I knew many who were part of the last council. I know of only one, though, who remains. One who would know. He is aging, like me, yet still quite powerful."
Frost let a sigh of relief escape his lips. He had come so far to hear these words, never knowing until just this moment whether he ever would. "Do you know where I might find him?"
"Indeed, he is not far. But he may as well be."
Frost tipped his head. "Why?"
"The one you seek is Gentaff, court wizard of Andair."
Frost closed his eyes. It seemed always to be this way with the Demon Blade, each step forward carrying with it a step backward, each instance of relief involving a modicum of pain. On the face of it, this situation seemed to have no solution. "Then I must find someone else."
"That might be impossible," Shassel said.
"Then we have to find a way to make Gentaff talk!" Dorin spoke up, trotting out the bluster he seemed to be increasingly fond of.
"Dorin's right," Dara said.
"Even if that were possible," Frost said, "anything Gentaff said would be suspect. He has no reason to cooperate and at least one reason not to."
"There are ways of being sure what he tells is the truth," Shassel said. "Though none of them easy," she added with a shrug. "Especially with the likes of him."
"And what is he like?" Frost asked. "You must know well enough to say."
"You would not like him. Big and oftentimes bold, always arrogant, far too talented and cunning, and concerned largely with sport and profit these days"
"Nothing at all like me, then," Frost put in.
"and the wishes of Lord Andair, of course," Shassel continued without pause. "Which I happen to know are many. Gentaff has changed, or he has left behind the masks he once wore. He was always a cold and greedy man, mind you, but he has gotten worse in latter years. He never spent time in this part of the world, largely because he knew I was here and would disapprove. But I am older than he, and no match for him anymore. Perhaps no one is. Even you."
Frost shook his head. "No one can know that. But short of finding out, he may be willing to listen to reason."
"Even you doubt that already, I can see it in your eyes," Shassel said.
Frost thought it over. "True."
"Let me think on this, and you as well," Shassel told him. "You have all had a long journey, and I grow tired of simply sitting on my haunches these days. In the morning, we will talk further, and come to something. You cannot both keep the Blade and be done with it at the same time, after all, and I rather doubt it can be destroyed."
"Destroyed?" Lurey asked, though Dara and Dorin both said it too, half a beat behind him.
"They do not understand as I do," Frost said. "I doubt anyone can."
"Sounds impressive," Shassel remarked.
Frost nodded.
"Can I see it?" Shassel asked. "Before some highwayman pries it off your big dead body?"
"Of course," Frost said, "but you should consider carefully. If you seek the Blade with your talents in any way, it will draw from you immediately and endlessly, until you force an end to the bond. If you can. If not, without the corpulent reserves of your youth you might die."
"Interesting," Shassel said, turning quite serious. "I had imagined something much different."
"As did I, but the truth was a painful lesson for me, one I have yet to fully learn."
"Keep your Blade for now, then. We will talk more of this, too, in the morning," Shassel said with a long sigh. She looked from one to the next about the table and everyone seemed in agreement. Frost could see the fatigue on her face.
Sharryl and Rosivok got up without a word, though two quick hand gestures communicated all that was necessary between themwho would stand first watch, who the second. Then Rosivok went to get the bedding.
Frost said good-night to Shassel with a kiss on the cheek and laid his head down on a mound of linens Lurey had fetched from his cart. He found it comfortable enough, but thoughts of what to do about Andair and Gentaff kept him awake as they twisted together in his mind, and refused to unwind. He closed his eyes and waited for morning. After a time, he wasn't sure how long, he was rudely awakened.
"I think he's asleep," Dorin said in a faint whisper, when Rosivok stepped outside for a moment and moved into the trees; his task would not take long, Dorin knew. They had to work quickly.
"He isn't snoring," Dara said. "I'm not so sure about this."
"No doubt snoring is too undignified for him. He has probably devised some means to prevent it. But he is not the only clever mage hereabouts, though he thinks he is greater even than Shassel."
"I think you are right," Dara whispered back. "And he has no remorse, not for anything that's happened."
"Except for when Andair made a fool of him."
"True."
They sat side by side in their bedrolls on the floor watching Frost. One oil lamp burned, turned down low, but it was enough to see by.
"What do we have in mind?" Dara asked.
"There," Dorin said. He pointed to Frost's walking stick which stood leaning against the wall near the wizard's head, in the small space between Frost and Shassel's bed. There was no way to get to it without stepping on Frost. Which was the idea. "Frost seems quite fond of it. There may even be more to it than just wood."
"A talisman of some kind?"
"Yes. Who knows what means or charms he may have invested in that stick over the years. Countless hours' work, all gone, just like that. And he will have to come to us to get it back again."
Dara smiled. Dorin smiled with her. He liked the sound of that. And they would give it back, but only when Shassel asked them to.
"When he wakes in the morning and finds it gone, he will be a little less smug, I think," Dara said, putting her hand to her mouth to blunt a snicker.
"Probably furious."
"Probably a mess," Dara said. And then, sobering, "But how furious do you think he will actually be?"
"It doesn't matter. He would not attempt to harm us with Shassel here, and anyway, I am not convinced he is so much more powerful than we are, especially if we stand together."
She nodded, but Dorin had known she would understand. He had felt it first many years ago, the special bond he and his twin sister seemed to have from time to timesomething they had spent great efforts developing since then. The sense of what the other one was thinking, where the other one was, or wanted to be. But there was more. It didn't always work, but more often than not they could use the same spell, with the same binding phrase, and pool their energies. The process had never been tested against another magesave that one time, some years ago, when it had failed. But they had successfully managed more than a trick or two since then.
"We have to hurry," Dara said.
Dorin nodded. Without another word he took Dara's hand and began to recite the spell. The spell started drawing from their inner reserves, converting their physical energy into magical energy, then he directed it with their binding phrase. Together they commanded the stick to leap into the air, over Frost, and come to them on their side of the room.
Something went wrong. The stick jumped up, but then it instantly leaped away with at least twice the force they had applied to it, as if it was terrified by the touch of their influence. With a loud clatter the stick found the wall farthest from the twins and proceeded to bash and clatter against the wood as if it was trying to break through and escape to the world beyond.
"Stop!" Dorin shouted, letting go of Dara's hand and severing the flow of energies from within himself, then letting the spell discharge. As the cottage door burst open the stick rattled to the floor, where it lay still again. Rosivok stood in the doorway, poised and ready as he scrutinized the room. Dorin looked from the Subartan to the others, heart pounding, blinking in disbelief. Everyone was awake and trying to gather wits enough to wonder what had happened. Dorin found Frost looking straight at him and Dara, as was Shassel. They already knew. . . .
Frost raised his hand above his head and the walking stick drifted up from the floor, then crossed the room, floating just high enough to miss Shassel's bed; it ended in the grip of Frost's still raised hand. He placed it precisely where it had been against the wall.
"It is nothing," he said to one and all. "An experiment by Dorin and Dara that did not go as planned, I think. A bit more training, perhaps. But they need their sleep as much as the rest of us. I think Shassel will agree that enough is enough for tonight."
"Agreed, more than enough," Shassel said, with a look in her eyes that Dorin could read even in this dim light, the one that meant he and Dara would be smoldering footnotes in the fables of history if she did not love them bothor if they tried anything else.
"We," Dara began, stumbling, "we were only, um . . ."
Dorin took a breath and tried to help. "We were just going toto, um, I mean, we thought . . ."
"Say good-night," Frost said.
"Now!" said Shassel.
"Good-night," Dorin repeated along with his sister.
Dorin heard Frost mutter something after that, and saw Shassel's lips moving along with his. He couldn't hear the whispers. He lay down and closed his eyes, and kept quite quiet and still. The next thing he knew it was already morning, and Lurey was shaking him awake.
"Come, eat your breakfast," Shassel called as he got to his feet. He found his great-aunt sitting at the table with Frost, Sharryl and Rosivok, eating porridge and grinning quite slyly at him and his sister.
"And when you are done," Frost said, "we will talk."
Dorin looked at Dara and saw a familiar flash of panic in her eyes, though like him, she tried to quell the obvious signs almost immediately. They pulled on their boots and ate as they were told. When the meal was ended they put away their bedding and joined the others outside.
"You may find this hard to believe, but there is much you do not yet knowabout me, about sorcery, about the world," Frost said.
"There are not many teachers about," Dorin said, despite thinking he ought to keep his mouth shut just now. "And we lost some of those we did have, no thanks to you."
"Enough," Shassel said.
"It is all right, for now," Frost said. "I'm not sure what you were trying to accomplish last night, but I can tell you why you failed. I maintain a simple yet most reliable reversal spell on my staffone which causes any new spell cast upon it to work in reverse. A useful precaution, thrifty, versatile, quick, and it has always seemed to come quite naturally to me. One of the few spells my father tried to teach me before, and which Shassel helped me perfect. We will teach it to both of you."
Dorin felt a mix of frustration and relief; here, finally, was the mentor he had always imagined, yet coming so late he felt betrayed by it allor by himself if he accepted Frost now, if he forgave him for not being there before, and for the terrible price that had been paid in Frost's absence.
"You and your magic were never here to help us," Dorin said, using the words he had recited in his head for years, awaiting this day. "We do not need it now."
"But you do!" Shassel said. "All of us do. And Frost will need us as well to face what is to come. You have not told him, have you?"
Dorin shook his head.
"I will," Dara said. "I will."
"It will serve no one," Dorin said.
"No," Shassel stopped her. "You are wrong. But now I think it will be better if I tell him." She turned to Frost and took a deep breath. "To begin, you should know their father had no trace of the gift, but he was a good man, a good teacher, and he understood well enough."
Frost nodded sympathetically. "I wish I'd known him, but what has he to do with me?"
The twins grunted at this. Shassel cleared her throat and continued. "When Andair took the throne, many in Worlish were angry over it, and with good reason. He took so much land, the easier pickings first, but he got round to the rest when the time was right, including nearly everything that had once belonged to our families, and Wilmar's. He and his army grew too powerful too quickly, until even the worst of his misdeeds went unchallenged.
"It is as much my fault as anyone. I was away at the worst possible time, a time when Dara and Dorin were just beginning to realize their nature and their potential."
"Some five years ago," Lurey said, "when they were just eleven, they started trying little sorceries. I remember because I had just been to their manor for the first time that year."
Shassel nodded acknowledgment. Dorin stayed silent, and let her go on. "They managed a few spells," she said. "They taught each other, and became charged with the enthusiasm one feels at such a timethough much more so than they should have. With the taste of their newfound powers fresh in their minds and our lands clearly next in Andair's sights they decided to take matters into their own hands, and teach Andair the lesson he needed to learn. The kind of lesson they believed their blood required of them. The sort of task that would have fallen to me, had I been here."
"Or to me, had I been here, but it fell to them," Frost said, nodding.
Dorin went to open his mouth, but the glare from Shassel make him close it again.
"Yes," Shassel said. "We lived closer to Weldhem then. They were able to slip away from the family I had left them with and go to the city on their own. They got into the castle and past many of the guards to the great room, where they attempted a heraldry spell on Andair, one intended to transform the king into a goat. The spell did not work, by all accounts, but it worked well to the advantage of the court mage Andair was keeping at the time. A buffoon, that one, but he was able enough to sense the twins' location, and they were captured instantly."
"He would have a time of that now," Dorin insisted.
"No doubt," Shassel replied. "In any case, they were seen publicly as a bad joke, but I suspect privately Andair took them much more seriously. They are your blood, and mine, and Andair knew as well as anyone what that implied. When their father came to see to them, distraught and angry, he too was arrested. They were made a public display, and as an example to others, Dorin, Dara and their father were all beaten in the city's northern square. It was supposed to be a punishment, not an execution, but Andair's soldiers went too far.
"The twins survived, but their father became wild with anger, and was ultimately beaten to death for their crimes. So you see, they do not blame you for the mistakes you made with Andair; you were not much older than they are now, and they have made their share. They blame you for your absence since that time. They blame us both, but you most of all."
Dorin kept his tongue. She had said it all, even though he had expected her to flag at the very end. Dorin felt a weight, very old and heavy, lift off of him, or a part of it at least.
"I didn't know," Frost said, turning to the twins. "I wish I could tell you everything that is in my heart and unburden yours, but proper answers are not always easy to come by."
"Yes, we know," Dara said.
"I cannot change the past, but the future is a different matter," Frost said. "Andair will pay for all he has done, I promise. He will pay most dearly."
Dorin head the words and tried to set them aside, but he could not. He felt drained by all that had just happened, and yet . . .
There was something about Frosta dauntless nature that spoke to something deep inside Dorin's soul, a roguishness that seemed not quite familiar, yet destined to be. He wasn't sure whether Dara felt it, though he guessed she might, a little at least. And the feeling was growing despite no desire on his part to allow such a thing. None of that could put aside the restthe cowardly way Frost had abandoned his home, his family and his pride. The trouble was, Frost was not the haggard, shallow, sorry husk of a man Dorin had expected, and as he had spoken those last words Dorin saw the unmistakable gleam of unrequited hatred and vengeance in his eye.
"You'll have your work cut out for you, Frost," Shassel said, "just getting on with these two. But I can already tell you have grown enough these many years to make a fine mentor for them. Perhaps even an example, though that may take more time."
"A mentor?" Frost moaned. "Such a generous offer."
"One you should think about carefully before accepting," Dorin warned. "It may be too little, too late." He looked to Dara for support and found her lost in her thoughts as he had been, though she hadn't yet snapped out of it.
"I have a talent for bringing people together," Shassel said. "You will all get along, I'm sure. In the meantime we must return home. Whatever Frost decides to do, I grant that he did not come all this way simply to hide in these woods indefinitely."
"I suppose not," Frost said wearily. "At least not . . . indefinitely."
"I do have to get back to work," Lurey said, breaking his silence only now, though he was careful not to sound too worried. "My goods do not peddle themselves while I am sitting here enjoying your company, and I have many places to visit this month."
"Good," Shassel said. "Then we can leave this afternoon."
Dorin turned to Dara, who was focussed now, though she did not look well. He decided he must look at least as bad. "What is it you plan to do?" he asked Frost, though he avoided the sorcerer's eyes.
"I will tell you," Frost said, "on the way."