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seat, and though the carriage was closed, he could still hear the driver humming to himself. The young marmot who’d volunteered to drive them was eager and helpful, but of course had not been taken into their confidence. He gauged the volume he could speak at without being overheard, and said, “I know. But I am their lord now. I need to be able to carry out that function too.”
    “I’m just saying, don’t forget the main reason.”
    Volle smiled. “I won’t. You just worry about the streets and drops.”
    Reese snorted. “I know those cold.”
    “Fine. I don’t know this cold yet, so let me study.”
    The hare threw up his paws. “Whatever.”
    They shared dinner with their driver, who wanted to know everything about Volle’s past—where he’d grown up, how he and Reese had met, how long they’d known each other, if he remembered his father at all, and so on. Volle humored him; it was a good chance to practice his story. Reese chimed in once or twice, but mostly stayed silent until the driver went to bed. Then he and Volle discussed the story quietly between themselves, making minor adjustments and additions.
    Midway through the fourth day, as Volle was studying his original mission papers again and Reese was napping, the driver rapped on the carriage. Volle put the papers into his leather pouch and opened the door. “Yes, Ben?”
    The marmot smiled and pointed. “We can see the palace. Thought you might like to take a look.”
    Volle climbed up onto the riding board and looked ahead. They had crested a hill and were starting down its gentle slope, and spread out before them was Sophasol, the great plain of Tephos. The Reysfields were the eastern plains, Volle remembered, rich with maize and wheat. The Lurine River wound its way through the fields, a shimmering snake in the golden expanse. They had crossed the Lurine far to the south, where it was wide, brown, and sluggish. Here it was bright and quick, more narrow and lithe. Volle traced its curves northward until they brought him to Divalia.
    The capital city’s most visible feature from this distance was the large stone wall that encircled it. As they were looking down into it, Volle could see the buildings inside the walls. It looked very much like the jumble of buildings that made up Caril, and the sight gave him a pang of homesickness. Although, of course, Caril’s defense was the Carilla River, the wide blue river whose fertile plain had kept settlers near it, and whose accommodating bend had provided the crèche for the city to grow. Caril had no need of walls, and to Volle, they made Divalia seem old and provincial.
    In the midst of the jumble of buildings, a large grey structure arose. Glints of gold caught the sun atop the three towers; otherwise it was the same grey as the walls. The palace was more of a fortress; where Caril’s palace was of white marble, low and long and a part of the city, this palace looked like a smaller replica of the city itself. Each of the three towers anchored a section of wall, giving it the appearance of an island in the sea of houses that was Divalia.
    “It’s beautiful,” Ben breathed reverently.
    “Very impressive,” Volle said, not wanting to openly disagree. “How long until we arrive?”
    Ben looked at the road ahead of them. “Probably we could get there late tonight. If your lordship wishes to hurry.”
    Volle checked the weather. There were a few clouds in the sky, but there didn’t seem to be any threat of rain that they needed to outpace. “No need for that. Let’s find an inn and arrive at the city in the morning.”
    “I’ll keep my eyes open, my lord.”
    Volle grinned, still getting used to the honorific, and patted the marmot on the back. “Thank you, Ben.” He caught a glimpse of the youngster’s happy grin as he climbed back into the carriage.
    Reese cracked an eye open. “How long?”
    “We’ll stop somewhere tonight and then arrive tomorrow morning.” Volle took his papers