“Gods,” he muttered, passing his hand over his sweaty brow.

To his embarrassment, he was not alone. Donal stood by the entry, and Varius at the foot of his pallet, looking over a journal and squinting down at him through specs perched on the tip of his nose.

“Weeell,” Varius drolled, “you seem to be feeling much better.”

Heat warmed Zachary’s face.

“No need to feel ashamed. It is a natural part of being a man.”

Donal’s expression, as usual, was neutral. Zachary hoped he’d not spoken in his sleep, had not called out, for his sake and Karigan’s. The dream had been so very real.

Varius checked beneath his poultice and deemed his wound was doing well enough that it required only a light bandage. “After you have some porridge, I don’t see why you can’t get out of bed and take in some fresh air outside.”

That was very good news. “Thank you, Varius, I know this can’t be easy for you.”

“It would be easier if you’d stop hurting yourself.”

“I believe you know what I mean.”

Varius let out a breath and nodded. “Because I am descended from Arcosia and was with Second Empire.” He walked over to the table and dropped into the chair. “There are many descendants of Arcosia across the lands, and not all are aligned with Second Empire. Your Rider G’ladheon is one such. How can it be helped? Arcosia’s people, all men, were abandoned here by the emperor. Naturally, the men took wives from the populace and otherwise spread their seed. Second Empire will not admit it, but they are more Sacoridian or Rhovan than Arcosian, despite their ancestors and inbreeding.”

“Yes, of course, but you were still here with Grandmother, part of Second Empire.”

“Second Empire monitors its own. Should any knowingly betray them, or do anything to offend its leader, they are dealt with. They disappear. Grandmother took great store in punishing intransigence. I am from Penburn, got my training there. I was aware of my heritage, but didn’t think much of it, didn’t attend meetings or engage with my local sect. I was content with my life as a Sacoridian practicing his calling. Alas, Grandmother and the others value menders, especially with war coming, and I was not given a choice as to whether or not to uproot and spend a miserable winter in this keep.

“When I received my mastery in mending, I took an oath to do no harm. I practice my skills, my gifts, not for a political entity, or because I was forced to be here, but because I value life.”

Zachary had liked Varius from the outset and now liked him even more, but his position was difficult. “You do realize I can’t just set you free.”

“I do. All I ask is to be of service in some way, to be able to use my skills.”

Zachary thought he knew how. “There will be prisoner camps out on some of the islands. They will need menders.”

Varius bowed his head in acceptance.

• • •

Once Zachary finished his porridge, he dressed in his borrowed Black Shield uniform, now cleaned and mended. He threw a cloak on, and he and Donal went outside as Varius had suggested. He found members of the River Unit and some of his fellow, former slaves repairing walls and doors, and bracing existing, precarious walls. Out where he had spent so long carrying rocks and debris, he found prisoners, under the watchful gaze of guards, blocking the passage to the Aeon Iire and building cairns over their dead. Grandmother’s corpse, he was told, was simply tossed in with the rest of Second Empire’s dead with no special consideration.

Out by the pickets, he found Karigan brushing Condor. She still moved slowly and with great stiffness.

He cleared his throat so as not to startle her as he approached. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she replied with a half bow.

Of a sudden, his dream came flooding back to him and he grew hot, felt a tightening of his loins. He cleared his throat again. “Condor is looking grand.”

She smiled. “It is good to see you back on your feet.”

He returned her smile, an awkward silence falling between them.

“I am thinking we can begin the journey back to Sacor City in a day or two,” he said, “if you are ready for it.”

She swiped the brush over Condor’s hindquarters a couple times before turning back to him. “I will not be returning just yet, unless you command otherwise.”

“If it’s your back, we can wait longer, but I don’t want to delay too much.”

“You must return,” she said. “The realm needs you, but my mission is not complete.”

“The p’ehdrose? You still mean to seek them out?”

“Enver says the entrance to their valley is not far from here. This whole time, even before . . . even before what happened to me, he was searching.”

Zachary could not tell her to abandon a mission he’d assigned her, and she had that determined look on her face he’d grown to know so well.

“I need to do this,” she said.

“May I ask why you are so set on this? Besides the fact I gave you the mission?”

She looked at the ground, then back at him. “After what Nyssa did to me, I have been unable to do much. Enver will not allow me to pick up or carry even small loads. I don’t know if I can return to being a swordmaster, or handle a sword at all. The avatar you saw was not me, really, but the power of Westrion. Without that, I am physically weak, not useful for much of anything.”

“Karigan—” he protested.