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them any further. Hem Duro and Master de Reece spoke together in quiet, and after a little time, they admitted Reeve Mentle and Druda Strawn to their council.
    Valent Harrad was excused to return to Lord Knaar’s service.
    Gael and Jehane sat together, whispering a little. Presently Captain Lockie of the Sword Lilies and Obrist Wellach returned from their duties and joined the conference. A few moments after, the captain haled the two recruits off to quarters. They were to sleep in Hackestell this night and return to their training in the morning.
    They gathered up their saddlebags and their ash staves and followed the old kedran out of the private hearth. As they went toward the stairs, she looked about for a moment as if to be sure no one was watching and drew them aside, along the gallery.
    “Hem Duro is a generous man,” she said. “Keep quiet about this.”
    She drew out from a deep pocket in her tunic two bright twists of yellow cloth and handed them to Gael and Jehane.
    “Silver!” said Captain Lockie. “Five silver shields each, fresh from the Royal Mint at Goldgrave!”
    She held up a hand as they both whispered their thanks. “You both drew a strange duty this day,” she said. “Maybe with a bit of training you’ll be seen among the Westlings.”
    The captain did not say “among the Sword Lilies.” They were a special troop, the lord’s escort. Gael could see how Lockie smiled at Jehane’s retort to this cautious approval—the tall girl was nettled, her pride was touched. In her own town of Veyna, great things were expected for Jehane—and Gael,
knowing how easy Jehane Vey rode, her already easy manner as she spoke with their rough green troop, would not have gainsaid those happy expectations.
    But this was for the future. For now, Jehane held her peace, and the captain led them through winding passages to the kitchens. A female cook had charge of them there. She took two thick, lighted candles and brought them into a stone room with stone shelves for beds. These were covered with sacks of thick straw and each had a thick plaid blanket. There was a place to wash and presently a girl in an apron brought them broth, bread, a bottle of ale, and a basket of apples.
    This was a good supper. As they enjoyed it, Gael counted her bright silver coins with the shield of the royal arms of Mel’Nir and tied them up again in their cloth. She wondered aloud where the Sword Lilies would sleep. Jehane guessed that a few would remain in the fortress to guard Lord Knaar in his guest chamber, wherever that was. The rest, they decided, would have gone back to the Val’Nur pavilion.
    There was a trumpet call and another peal of bells; they heard marching feet overhead. Through a high window they could see the stars and the fields. There was a heavy bar on the inside of their door, and they slid it into place before they went to bed. Gael’s nerves were still taut as a bowstring, but after a time she relaxed in the strange room and quickly fell asleep. She dreamed of men in outlandish brown robes, herding black sheep before them.

CHAPTER II
    SUMMER RIDERS
    Druda Strawn led the way but he let the young men go ahead on their ponies; they rode up a firm, winding way called Larch Road and came over the edge of the plateau. Jehane and Gael brought up the rear, through a stand of noble, shaggy larch trees, and saw the lads go hallooing over tussock and green reeds. Game birds rose up into the summer sky; larks were already singing. Far away to the south there was a head of cloud rising over Rift Kyrie, but here in the center of the plateau, the air was very clear. They could see the Great Eastern Rift, a little to the northeast. Then they were all on the High Ground, and training had truly begun.
    Gael was full of relief and joy—this was how things were meant to be. The episode with the attack and the questioning was like a summer storm or a flash of dark magic. That night for the first time they made camp, pitched their