Karigan sighed, beyond anger, at least for the moment, and she thought it true Laurelyn had spared her the burden for a time.

Above all else, I wished to see you, Kariny’s daughter. Laurelyn extended her hand and caressed Karigan with light. The one I awaited for so long, and on whom all my hopes rested. Kariny, too, was my heart friend and meeting you in the place where I so often visited her answered a yearning of my spirit. She paused. You are very much your mother’s mirror.

The two worlds Karigan traveled in, past and present, wavered and stormed in her vision. She closed her eyes against it, and against the tempest rising within herself.

I sang to Kariny unto her ending days, and when she was gone, I was hollow with loneliness. Do know that as brief as your mother’s time in this world was, Laurelyn said, she loved her life, and she loved you.

“Thank you,” Karigan whispered, and when she opened her eyes once again, the vision of the empty, shining tower folded over the dark one and obscured it, the tower’s doors wide open to the grove awash in the light of the silver moon.

A FACE IN THE FIRE

So exhausted was Grandmother from casting spells that she had nearly collapsed. Cole carried her away from the bodies of Deglin and Sarat, with Min trailing behind and weeping. Lala walked beside them, casting Grandmother anxious looks.

Cole halted at the edge of the grove and gently set her down. Immediately he collected wood for another fire. Min produced a blanket with which she covered Grandmother.

“I’m fine, truly I am,” she insisted.

“Are we . . . are we safe here from those Sleeper creatures?” Min asked, fretting with the hem of her cloak.

“I do not know,” Grandmother replied. “I should think, however, what is in the castle is of more interest to them than we are. At least for now. Lala will make some wards, won’t you, Lala?”

The child nodded solemnly.

“Be sparing with the yarn, child. It is all we’ve got left.”

While Lala set to work, Grandmother huddled beneath her blanket and dozed off, dreaming of sunny, drier days in her little kitchen garden in Sacor City, the birds twittering in the trees, and the smell of savory herbs and soil on her hands.

She stirred when Min gave her a cup of broth, startled to find it darker out and a campfire blazing. She closed her eyes and felt the protections Lala had placed around them—even without words, she’d given them the power to work.

“My dear child, you are a wonder! Your wards are very good.” She reached out and clasped her granddaughter’s hand.

How old my hand looks next to hers, Grandmother reflected. It is good she has taken so well to the art. Grandmother knew she would not be around to lead Second Empire forever. She hoped she’d have enough time to train Lala to take her place.

The girl beamed at her, then pulled her ratty piece of string out of her pocket with which to play games.

“What’s next?” Cole asked, sipping from his own cup of broth. “Are we leaving?”

Grandmother heard the weariness in his voice. She would like nothing better than to leave Blackveil herself, though the mere idea of trekking all the way back home deepened her fatigue.

“Since we’ve a good fire, I would like to see what is happening in the world, and perhaps God will speak to me and provide us with instructions.”

In the guise of teaching Lala knots, Grandmother sat back and rested while her granddaughter did all the work. Lala encapsulated one of Birch’s fingernails into a knot and tossed the yarn into the fire.

Grandmother stared into the flames, putting her intent into seeing through Birch’s eyes. How did the training with his soldiers go? What was happening on the northern border?

And then she was there, gazing through Birch’s eyes only to see . . . the dark of night. She sighed. After being in the dark of Blackveil for so long, she’d gotten into the habit of thinking of the other side of the wall as perpetually sunny, but it was not. Night fell there, too.

Her sight adjusted to the dark and she realized Birch was peering into the distance where lamplight winked in windows. Someone crept up next to him. Grandmother could make out very little of the newcomer’s shape in the dark.

“Report,” Birch said very quietly.

“Sir, looks like thirty men or so. Just a few women. Must’ve sent the rest away with the children.”

“Just like the last two settlements,” Birch mused. “Word has gotten around about us.”

“If they were smart, they’d have all left. It’s just not as entertaining without them trying to defend their families.”

“This is war, Corporal,” Birch growled. “It’s not meant to be entertaining. We’re training men to fight and kill.”

“Yes, sir,” the corporal replied, sounding chagrined at the rebuke. “What are your orders?”

Birch glanced at the moon through the trees. It was a thin crescent like the fingernail Lala had folded into the knot. “We’ll get a better lay of the land at dawn. Then we’ll put the men into position. Strike at dusk.”

“Thirty aren’t going to be much of a challenge.”

“The practice is good,” Birch said. “Soon our soldiers will be facing stiffer opposition—bigger towns, trained militia. We need to take advantage of these training exercises while we may.”

Grandmother withdrew from the vision. It sounded like Birch’s work was going well. Perhaps she’d look into the fire tomorrow to see how his campaign fared. She began to doze, the broth warm in her belly and the heat of the fire toasty against her skin. She felt as content as a cat in a sunny window.