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  Down the long row of warriors, a golden head leaned forward. “Here, m’lord.”

  “What in the name of the Ancestors are you doing there?” Verice barked.

  There was dead silence in the hall. Warna’s brown eyes flashed for an instant, and then she lifted her chin. “Eating breakfast, m’lord.”

  The response was respectful enough, even if the tone was not. Narthing raised an eyebrow as the room held its collective breath.

  “From this point forward, you take your meals with me when I am in residence,” Verice commanded.

  “As you say, m’lord,” Warna leaned back, disappearing into the line of warriors.

  “Constable, you have command,” Verice said.

  Ricard rose crisply. “Aye, m’lord.”

  Narthing stood, gesturing for the men to follow.

  “We’ll return tonight,” Verice announced. “At sunset.” He spun on his heel, then paused. “Oh, and, Constable, see to our guest. She needs outfitting.”

  “M’lord?” Ricard had a look of pure horror.

  “Yes, Constable,” Narthing said under his breath, unable to resist a satisfied smile. “It looks like it’s going to be one of those days.”

  Warna sighed as the High Baron stepped out of the hall and gave the men around her a questioning look. “Is he always so grim in the mornings?”

  She’d felt uncomfortable coming into a dining hall full of warriors, but by the time they’d seen her settled at a table and served, she felt more at ease. They reminded her of her brothers, rushing to introduce themselves, and talking too fast over their food.

  “Grim most of the time, lady.” Erenfet, the warrior on her left rolled his eyes. “Quite the temper, he has.”

  “He’s a good lord to us all, though,” Aeric, one of the castle guards on her right chimed in. “Treats all his people, elven, half-elven, and human with a fair hand. Even if he don’t normally let your kind within his walls.”

  “Gwenwyth tea, lady?” Oines, the warrior across the table, held up a pot and poured. The tea had a scent, like flowers on a hot day.

  “Eh, that’s not for her,” Aeric said, catching the cup before Warna could take it. “Your pardon, lady, but me mum was full human, and while she liked the taste, it gave her the flux something fierce.”

  “You’ve half-elven?” Warna asked, studying his features. She looked around at the others, not wanting to be rude, but curious.

  “Sure enough,” Aeric grinned. “So’s all of us. Erenfet, pull back your hair, let her see.”

  Erenfet was in mid-bite, but he obliged, tucking his gray hair back behind his ear.

  It wasn’t just the ears. Both men had pointed ones, but there was a softness in Aeric’s face, his jaw and cheekbones weren’t quite as sharp. Erenfet’s face was sharper, a lot like the Lord High Baron, but not quite as compelling as—

  “Pure elves tend more toward silver-gray hair, straight as an arrow,” Aeric said. “Half-elves, well, ya got a full range of colors.”

  “I saw elves pass through our town once or twice,” Warna said, although as she thought about it, she wouldn’t have known the difference.

  “Tassinic as a whole is a mixture, lady,” Erenfet said. “Halves, quarters, whatnot. Not that it matters.”

  “Even for pure humans?” Warna asked.

  There was a hesitation, then Erenfet responded. “No, lady. Lord Verice’s law is fair to all.”

  Something flashed in Aeric’s eyes, but all he did was pick up the pitcher of kav, and offer to pour for Warna.

  She nodded. “That’s good to know, about the tea,” Warna said. “Is there anything else I need be careful of?”

  “Some of the elven healing herbs don’t set well with human folk,” Aeric said. “But the healers hereabout know what’s what. Nothing that will flat out kill ya, lady. Just make ya want to die.”

  “Best to be aware, then. My thanks.” Warna smiled.

  A bell rang in the courtyard, and the warriors all stood, taking a last bite, or a last drink. “Time to serve,” Aeric said as he rose, giving Warna a grin.

  With that, they all filed out, leaving Warna in an empty room, nursing her mug of kav.

  Well. It appeared that she was on her own. She rose from her bench, and went into the back. The serving lads and cooks were scrubbing dishes and pots. The looks of horror at her suggestion that she help them convinced her it would be better to move on.

  Which left her free to explore. And maybe find a way to escape.

  Not that she had a place to escape to, mind. But one thing at a time. She needed to know her way around.

  She stepped outside slowly, waiting to see if there was any exclamation, or protest. But no one seemed to take more than a notice of her presence.

  She stood in a large cobblestone courtyard, the barracks behind her. She hesitated, then settled on a bench beside the door to take a moment and stare.

  The courtyard was huge, and it circled the keep, which rose in the center of the castle walls. The sight of it took her breath away, all smooth white marble, rising straight up. The lower part was solid stone, built to withstand a siege. Above soared tall, arched windows with colored glass panes. It seemed to her more like a cathedral than a castle.

  The beauty did not stop there. The castle walls were white as well, fitted smooth stone, with hanging lanterns spaced along the walls. Various buildings were built into the walls as well, to serve the needs of the keep. The smaller buildings were also white marble with slate roofs. Even the stables, to her surprise.

  There were warriors scattered about, some practicing their weapons, or drilling in the yard. Aeric seemed to be talking to a group carrying pole arms. Others stood guard on the walls. The barracks area felt very formal somehow. There was a farrier shoeing a horse, and sounds coming from the smithy, both buildings built up against the walls. But there was an odd feeling of order. A place for everything and everything in its place.

  Which made her feel even more uncomfortable.

  “Pardon me, miss.” Constable Ricard strolled up, looking quite aggrieved.

  “Constable,” Warna said.

  “Miss.” The constable looked like he thought she was out-of-place as well. “Miss, I’m not—”

  “Constable, I’m a merchant’s daughter. I’m not expecting silks and lace,” Warna reassured him. “Tunic and trous are fine, for now.”

  A relieved look passed over the man’s face. “If you’d come with me, then.”

  He led her to a small door and ushered her inside.

  The office they entered was crammed with shelves filled with scrolls, going as high as the ceiling with barely enough room to pass between. The constable had to shuffle around her to shut the door, so tight was the squeeze.

  Two heads appeared, one younger, the other old and tired. After a quick glance the heads went back down over their work, even as the older one spoke. “Constable, what’s the need?”

  “A new recruit, Quartermaster.” Ricard gave Warna a wink. “Need some gear.”

  “Name?” The question was barked out impatiently.

  Ricard gestured to Warna.

  “Warna of Farentell,” Warna said, letting the constable have his fun. Sure enough, he grinned as the two heads popped back up, startled.

  “Recruit?” sputtered the older man.

  “Recruit?” Ricard laughed. “I said guest, sure enough. A guest of Lord Verice.”

  There was a rustle of papers, and a wizened old man came around a corner, slipping between the shelves easily. Behind him, a lanky elf craned for a sight of her.

  “A lovely one at that,” the older one said, and bowed. “Welcome, lady. I am Farnor, Quartermaster for the Army of Tassinic. How may I be of assistance?”

  In no time, Warna had a small chest of the basics, and new shoes besides. The Quartermaster had trouble with standard gray tunics and trous, for all were meant for maels. They either threatened to split at the breast or the hip, or hung on her like sacks. But he’d a small sew
ing kit that he added to the pile with a shrug. “Seems to me this is only temporary,” he said. “We’ve no real supplies for a lady like yourself.”

  “It’s enough to get her started,” Ricard said. “I’ll help ya carry it, miss.”

  But Warna had other ideas as they left. “Where’s the washhouse?”

  Constable Ricard was standing guard when she emerged from the bathhouse, washed and changed. “Feel better then, miss?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Warna smiled.

  “I’ve duties to be about, then.” Ricard said. “The noon bell will ring for the meal, and the Lord said you’d dine with him this eve.”

  “Thank you, Constable.” Warna settled on a bench in the sun to dry her hair. “I’ll try not to be a trouble.”

  “Much appreciated, miss,” Ricard gave her a nod, and walked off.

  Aeric was still drilling his men. Apparently marching in formation with pole arms was more of a challenge than she imagined. But after a while they stopped and formed opposing lines.

  “All right then,” Aeric barked. “Front lines, take up sword and shield. Second line, halberds.”

  Warna watched while they practiced. She’d never really seen anyone use a halberd before. It did seem effective, as the men behind jabbed at the attackers over the shoulders of the front line. But it seemed to her that you’d really have to trust the man behind you to know what he was doing with that heavy pole.

  Her attention wandered. As nice as it was in the sun, she felt the need to move, and explore.

  She took the bundle of her clothing and her comb up to the small loft chamber she’d been assigned to, and left it there. Tunic and trous felt odd, but they’d do until she could get more suitable clothing. She figured that, to some extent, that was Lord Verice’s problem, not hers.

  She felt odd. Empty. As if there was something she should be doing.

  Warna shook herself, and headed back outside. The least she could do was walk around and learn more about the castle.

  The courtyard continued on, surrounding the keep at its center. Warna started to walk, thinking to circle the entire keep. She wanted to see the other buildings, designed to supply the keep with its needs. A laundry, an outside kitchen, storage of foodstuffs, perhaps a brewery.

  But once she started around, there was an odd stillness. An emptiness.

  Warna frowned, but kept going, curious. The sounds behind her faded as she walked the cobblestone yard as it curled around the white marble building in the center. Here the buildings stood silent and vacant.

  She thought about the quartermaster, all crammed into those rooms with barely an inch to spare. Why not use the space available? As the daughter of an ambitious merchant, she’d been trained to marry a noble, and in the running of a noble holding. Not one as large as this place, but still. Narthing had said that the keep was not being used, which made no sense at all.

  Unless its Lord had turned his back on all but war.

  Warna frowned as she walked farther around. A castle’s purpose was not just living quarters of its Lord. It was also a symbol of power, a key defensive position, a storehouse of supplies in case of siege. To empty it out? Abandon it? That made no sense.

  There were guards on the outer walls, and one or two acknowledged her with a wave of their hand. They didn’t seem to find it amiss that she was wandering this way.

  She got dizzy, walking along, gazing up at the tall white marble towers and arched windows. She’d never seen anything like this in Farentell, not that she’d ever traveled far. She’d heard tales, of course, but to actually see it was quite another thing.

  At the rear of the building, there was a large circular window. She shaded her eyes, and retreated a few paces, trying to make it out. It was dark, and she couldn’t see any color. She narrowed her eyes. Was it broken out?

  She continued on, filled with questions.

  She was almost back around to the practice yard when she spotted the open doorway in the wall of the keep. The room beyond was dark and still. She stepped closer, peering in, seeing nothing but darkness.

  Was it the same door? She thought maybe it was.

  The guards were paying her no mind, and no one seemed worried as to where she was or what she was doing…

  What had Lord Verice said? ‘You have the freedom of the castle and its grounds—’

  Warna slipped inside the door and stood silent, letting her eyes adjust, listening for sounds of protest or pursuit.

  The only sound was her own heartbeat in her ears.

  She stepped farther in, looking around. This wasn’t the door she’d bolted through. To the best of her memory, that had led to a hall. This one opened on to a huge kitchen, with two huge hearths and long tables for the work.

  But what stopped her were the dishes set out, as if for supper, and the kettles hanging over cold hearths. Dust-covered spoons in bowls, and cloths tossed on the tables, as if just thrown by someone in haste. Something had happened here, something in mid-meal.

  Fascinated, Warna stepped further in, but the sunlight only went so far. The deeper darkness beyond the next door pulled at her.

  She checked the mantel, finding a small copper lamp, the kind used to keep a flame handy for lighting fires. She found flint and steel, and tinder besides, neat as a pin, as if waiting to be used.

  She struck a spark, adjusted the wick, took up the tiny light and ventured further into the darkness.

  The archway led to a long hall, stretching out to her left and right. Warna paused, hesitating for a moment. The idea of getting lost in a huge keep with a tiny lamp did not appeal to her at all.

  But curiosity gnawed at her.

  She noticed the dust, thick on the floor. The hallway was white marble, with a heavy carpet down the center. She took a few steps, leaving a clear trail. She could use that to guide her.

  She lifted the lamp higher, trying to peer down the hall. There were doorways off to the sides, and there’d be stairs at some point. The lower levels would be dark, but a few floors up those glorious windows would let in the sun.

  So, she’d treat it like a maze. Always follow the right wall, leave a trail in the dust, and head up at the first chance.

  That odd feeling was back, a cold lump in her chest. She bit her lip for a moment and then it hit her, bringing a well of grief.

  It had been so long since she’d done anything for pleasure.

  Since losing her family, her home, all that she’d done was concentrate on survival. Doing what had to be done. This felt wrong, somehow.

  “Sorrow comes of its own accord. Joy has to be invited,” her grandfather’s voice whispered in her ear.

  Warna turned, lamp in her left hand, her right on the wall. She scuffed an arrow with her foot in the dust, and then started off, heart beating in anticipation.

  “We’ll run the patrol along the river here,” Verice pointed on the map. “I know you say that the water’s high, but I don’t trust to that alone. I know it thins our forces, but—”

  His chest vibrated as his mage-wards broke. Someone was in the keep. Verice lifted his head, focusing on—

  “True enough, Lord, but with message birds, the early warning will make all the difference,” Narthing stepped in and continued talking, covering for Verice.

  Verice blocked out the people around him, and concentrated. Was it an enemy, a member of his force? His anger built as he focused; his orders had been clear. No one was to enter the keep for any reason, and he’d see the offender punish—

  It was Warna.

  Chapter Six

  Warna wandered down the hall in amazement.

  This was clearly a working area of the castle, with various rooms off the long hall. The first few doors she came to were ajar, and swung open at her touch. They all showed signs of a hasty departure, chairs overturned, scrolls left on desks, fireplaces unswept.

  The dust was thick, as were the cobwebs. She stifled a cough, trying not to stir the air too much.

  There was a r
ustling as well, and droppings. She didn’t bother to investigate those areas too closely.

  Some doors were locked, and she moved past those, careful to make scuff marks in the dust. Her little lamp burned bravely, its light steady and reassuring.

  She started humming to herself, if only to hear another sound besides her breathing. Not that she was afraid, really. The empty rooms and hall didn’t speak to her of menace. It felt like sorrow.

  Although if her little brother had been with her, he’d have hidden in those wardrobes and jumped out at her just to hear her shriek.

  Her heart clutched at the memory, and her eyes welled up. Grief swept over her, but then with a teary laugh, she could almost hear his joyful laughter.

  Warna wiped away tears, took a shuddering breath and continued on.

  But the next break in the hall, she had to make a choice. She could head up the small spiral staircase to her right, turn down a hall to her left, or continue straight on. She paused for a moment, and bit her lip.

  Up. She wanted to see those windows.

  There were arrow slits along the way, and she could see the walls, and down into the courtyard. There was a line of shadow as well, and she knew that soon enough she’d lose any sunlight. Besides, Lord Verice had said he’d be back at sunset. Best to be out and cleaned up before he arrived.

  The stairs opened up into a dark hall, and again she chose to go to the right.

  Here now, were the chambers of the keep. Each with an arched window that let so much light spill into the room.

  This room had a large bed, covered with thick blankets and hung with heavy bed curtains. A woman had slept here, there were bright dresses in the wardrobe. Warna took a closer look, mindful of the flame of her lamp.

  The dresses were lovely, vibrant and rich. But when Warna reached out to touch one, she pulled her hand back. It didn’t feel right to disturb these things. Except for the layers of dust, it felt as if the lady would burst into her chamber at any moment, laughing, ready to change for a night of dancing and music.