Chapter 388: A Light on the Ridge

Elyan placed the destination stone on a ridge beyond Havenreach.

I could see it from the outer practice ground.

That did not make it feel close.

The pale marker stood beside an old shepherd's shelter, far enough away that the building looked like a broken tooth against the grass. Walking there would have taken a good part of the morning. Riding would have been quicker, provided the horse tolerated the last steep stretch.

Elyan returned in a flash of light.

“Ready?”

“You make that look easy.”

“I've been doing it longer than you've been alive.”

“A comforting standard.”

Thor stood beside Evelyn near the boundary posts. Avarn waited on my other side, and Vaerun had gone ahead to the ridge to meet me.

Castellan had approved the route. It began outside the city wards and ended well away from the roads, flocks, and people who might reasonably object to having a king arrive as lightning beside them.

I had been examined before breakfast.

Then again after breakfast, because Evelyn said eating something was not an obstacle to checking whether I had been honest the first time.

My injuries had healed enough for the attempt.

She had made me repeat the last two words.

“There and rest,” she said now. “Then we decide how you come back.”

“Agreed.”

Elyan looked toward the ridge.

“Tell me where you'll stand.”

“Beside the white stone. Facing the shelter. Left foot slightly forward.”

Avarn nodded.

I suspected he would still correct my stance if I landed on the moon.

The first attempt failed before I moved.

Lightning ran over my arms and gathered around my shoulders. My sight brightened. For an instant, the distant stone seemed close enough to touch.

Then I thought about the space between us.

The charge broke apart.

Thunder snapped above the empty ground, and I remained exactly where I had started.

Thor waited for the echoes to fade.

“You looked down.”

“There is a considerable amount of down.”

Elyan smiled faintly.

“You tried to measure the whole journey while taking the first step.”

“That seems reasonable.”

“For walking.”

I shook the tingling from my fingers.

Beyond the fields, smoke rose from Havenreach's kitchens. A wagon moved along the lower road. Somewhere behind the walls, Julian was probably asking whether a turning wheel could lift something heavier than a cup of water.

Ordinary things.

I fixed my gaze on the stone again.

Elyan stood beside me without touching.

“You know where you're going. Trust the shape that carries you.”

I let the storm rise.

The world narrowed to a line of brilliant certainty.

Then opened.

The shelter stood before me.

Close enough to see the missing mortar between its stones.

Wind pulled at my hair. My boots pressed into uneven ground. Vaerun stood a few paces away with one hand raised, ready to steady me if I needed it.

Behind us, thunder rolled across the valley.

I turned.

Havenreach lay below, its roads and roofs spread beneath the morning light. The practice ground was a patch of pale earth near the walls. I could make out people there, but no faces.

I had been standing among them a heartbeat earlier.

For a moment, I forgot to breathe.

Vaerun lowered his hand.

“How do you feel?”

I tried to answer honestly.

Tired, but not emptied. Unsteady in my understanding more than in my legs. The storm inside me had stretched, crossed the distance, and gathered itself again.

“Here,” I said.

He laughed.

“A useful beginning.”

Elyan appeared beside the shelter, light fading from his coat.

He looked at my feet.

“Avarn will be pleased.”

“You all need another subject.”

But I was grinning when I said it.

We remained on the ridge until Evelyn reached us by the prepared path with Thor and two horses.

This took long enough for me to appreciate the difference between traveling as lightning and watching other people climb a hill.

Evelyn dismounted and examined me without first asking whether the view was pleasant.

“Any pain?”

“No.”

“Nausea?”

“No.”

“Anything you are planning to describe as unimportant after I discover it?”

Vaerun turned away, shoulders moving.

I gave her the fullest answer I could.

She listened, checked what she needed, and finally looked out over the valley.

For several breaths, neither of us spoke.

“That was very quick,” she said.

“Yes.”

Her hand found mine.

From here, the roads looked harmless. Thin lines between fields. Gentle curves around stands of trees.

I knew how much could happen along them before help arrived.

Evelyn knew too.

“Think what this could mean,” I said quietly.

“I am.”

Then she looked at me.

“And today, you ride home.”

I laughed.

She did not let go of my hand.

On the ride down, Thor asked what I remembered of arriving.

“The wall of the shelter,” I said. “The wind. Vaerun.”

“And behind you?”

I thought about it.

“I didn't look until afterward.”

She nodded toward Avarn, who had come partway up the path to meet us.

“Tell him that.”

When I did, the swordsman considered it without criticism.

“Then our next exercise is observation.”

“More standing?”

“Turning. Looking. Knowing where your companions are before you move your blade.”

I glanced back toward the ridge.

“It felt like a great deal to remember simply arriving.”

“It is,” he said. “We'll make that familiar before adding more.”

Thor rode beside us in silence for a while, then reached across to adjust the practice sword secured along my saddle.

“A hammer still suits some work better.”

“I haven't forgotten.”

“Good. I put considerable effort into teaching you which end to hold.”

Avarn looked at her.

“Does that usually require considerable effort?”

“With this one, everything does.”

I allowed them their laughter. Below us, the gate stood open, and for once I had returned from something extraordinary without bringing anyone home bleeding.

The report about the woodland road arrived that afternoon.

Eliza brought it to the smaller council room, where Thor, Lexander, Mary, and I had been reviewing supplies for Orselle.

The scouts had found people.

Living people, moving slowly beneath the trees.

“Forty-three seen clearly,” Eliza said. “Possibly more under the covered carts. Six armed escorts. They appear to be protecting the group rather than driving it.”

“Appear?” Thor asked.

“Our scouts haven't approached. One escort wears part of a Lyradoni uniform. Another carries a shield with its device painted over.”

Mary reached for a fresh page.

“Children?”

“At least nine.”

We listened to the rest.

A damaged cart. One lame pack animal. Signs that the group had left the main road several days earlier. No visible pursuit, but tracks of mounted soldiers on another route to the south.

“They may be avoiding both,” Lexander said.

“That would be sensible,” Eliza replied.

My attention moved to the map before I intended it to.

The woodland road lay beyond the ridge I had reached that morning.

Not impossibly far.

Thor noticed.

“What are you thinking?”

I could have pretended otherwise.

Instead, I pointed.

“That I could reach our scouts quickly once I know how to arrive somewhere I can't see.”

“Once,” she agreed.

I drew my hand back.

Eliza continued explaining how she intended to make contact.

I listened.

Mirelle joined us when she heard about the uniform.

She did not ask us to send Cassia, Julian, or anyone whose face might be recognized. She asked to see the description of the surviving insignia.

Then she requested the royal archivist.

He came from Mary's office carrying the book he had been checking for her and listened while Eliza repeated the scouts' account.

Together, they narrowed the possibilities.

“A supply detachment,” Mirelle said at last. “Or men using what remained of one.”

The archivist nodded.

“They may have gathered families from the inland settlements.”

“Can you give us names to ask for?” Eliza said.

“Several. But absence of recognition won't tell you they are lying.”

“Understood.”

Mirelle sat very still while the list was written.

I knew she was counting people she had not yet been allowed to hope were alive.

When the meeting ended, she asked whether she could send blankets with the relief party.

Mary looked down at the supplies already being assembled.

“Yes.”

Then, more gently, “Come and help me choose what they'll need.”

Mirelle went with her.

Cassia and Lysandra came home arguing about water.

This was becoming common enough that the receiving guards no longer looked concerned.

Their class had been given an old street plan and asked to explain why one courtyard flooded whenever heavy rain came from the west.

Cassia thought the problem lay beneath a covered passage.

Lysandra thought the drawing was incomplete.

“It can be both,” I said as they entered the sitting room.

They stopped.

Looked at each other.

Then returned to the plan.

“That would explain this,” Cassia said, pointing.

Lysandra moved the page closer to the lamp.

“We should ask whether the building was added later.”

Neither had greeted me yet.

I chose to feel useful rather than overlooked.

Adriana watched them from the sofa, one hand resting beneath her stomach.

“How were your afternoons?”

Cassia's expression softened at once.

“Davren liked Julian's note.”

“The one about the wheel?”

“Yes.”

Lysandra glanced up.

“Especially the part at the end.”

Cassia touched her with the edge of the map.

“Yours?” Adriana asked Lysandra.

“The conversation group is meeting next week. Renwick says I can listen first if I prefer.”

“Will you?”

Lysandra considered.

“For a little while.”

Cassia laughed.

We all knew how long that was likely to last.

They heard about the woodland refugees over supper.

Cassia put down her fork.

Mirelle told her exactly what we knew, including what we did not.

For once, the explanation did not end with Cassia volunteering to go somewhere dangerous.

She asked whether names would be brought back.

“As soon as contact is made,” I said.

“I'll help compare them with the lists.”

Mary nodded.

“After your lessons tomorrow, if we have them by then.”

Cassia accepted that.

Beside her, Lysandra quietly moved the bread within reach.

Julian had become very still.

Garrick Valewood noticed and leaned toward him.

“More people finding their way,” he said softly.

Julian nodded.

Then asked Mirelle whether any children from those settlements might know the games he remembered.

Her face changed.

“Perhaps.”

He looked down at his plate, thinking.

Later, I found him putting a small wooden ball and several carved counters into a bag.

“For when they come,” he explained.

I did not promise him that every person on the road would reach us.

I helped him find the missing counter.

The days before Adriana's birthday filled quickly.

Eliza's relief party made contact. The group accepted food and medical help, though several adults needed time before they would believe the road to Havenreach was open to them.

There were forty-eight people altogether.

Five had been riding beneath the cart coverings, too exhausted or unwell to walk.

The escorts included three Lyradoni soldiers, two local guards, and a farmer carrying his father's hunting bow. None had possessed enough food for another week in the woods.

They were coming toward us.

Slowly.

That was enough news to make Mirelle sit down when Mary told her.

Cassia helped with the names after college. Lysandra sat beside her, checking each entry against the copied lists rather than guessing at uncertain spellings.

Sometimes a match was clear.

Sometimes it was only possible.

They learned to mark the difference.

Meanwhile, the kitchens asked what Adriana wanted to eat.

She gave an answer, changed one part the following morning, and apologized until the cook informed her that altering a dish before it had been made was considerably easier than afterward.

That settled her conscience.

For an hour, at least.

Evelyn and I chose the sheltered garden room for the celebration.

Its wide doors opened toward the flowers, and its chairs could be moved inside without requiring anyone to reorganize the entire castle.

Adriana approved it by sitting in three places and declaring the second one best.

“An efficient inspection,” I said.

“I've had practice.”

She rested back against the cushions while Evelyn measured the space needed between her chair and the nearest table.

“You don't have to make me the center of an arrangement,” Adriana said.

“You're the person whose birthday it is,” Evelyn replied.

“I know, but—”

Evelyn bent to kiss her.

Adriana stopped objecting long enough for me to move the table.

When Evelyn straightened, Adriana looked between us.

“Coordinated.”

“Increasingly,” I said.

She laughed, then took my hand and drew it beneath hers against the side of her stomach.

The baby moved.

I went still.

It was not the first time I had felt it.

It never seemed to become ordinary.

Evelyn sat on the arm of the chair and watched us, smiling.

For a while, we forgot the furniture.

Adriana's birthday began with Julian knocking on our sitting-room door much earlier than anyone expected.

He held a small tray.

Behind him stood Cassia, carrying the part he could not manage, and Mirelle with a pot of tea.

“We brought breakfast,” Julian said.

Adriana sat up beneath the blanket Evelyn had tucked around her knees.

“I can see that.”

There was warm bread and honey among the other dishes.

Mirelle set the tea down.

For a moment, Adriana looked at the table without speaking.

Then she held out her hand to her mother.

Mirelle took it.

“Happy birthday.”

Cassia kissed her sister's cheek. Julian hugged her carefully, then remained close enough for Adriana to keep an arm around him.

Evelyn passed cups.

I found another chair.

We ate while the morning light slowly reached the carpet, and nobody asked Adriana what she intended to accomplish that day.

Her present from Evelyn and me was a writing desk small enough to sit comfortably beside her favorite chair.

Eleanor had helped with the proportions. Garrick Valewood had made certain the hinged surface moved without catching, and Helena had selected a padded rest that did not slide when the desk was open.

Inside lay good paper, pens, and a little bound book with blank pages.

Adriana opened the book first.

“For what?”

“Anything you want,” Evelyn said.

“We thought you might like somewhere to keep things that aren't household lists,” I added.

She turned a page.

Then another.

“I could write down what the children say.”

“You may need another book,” I said.

She smiled, but her eyes had become bright.

“And things about the baby.”

Evelyn rested a hand against her shoulder.

Adriana closed the book gently and held it against her chest before leaning forward to kiss us both.

“Thank you.”

By afternoon, the garden room was full.

The weather had cooperated. We opened the doors, and the music drifted out among the flowers without requiring anyone to sit in the sun.

Mirelle sat with Helena and Lisbeth. Lexander and Io arrived with the children, who had been told that Adriana would open their presents when she was ready and not because four people were staring at the parcels.

This distinction proved difficult.

Cassia and Lysandra came from their morning lessons together. They had left their books upstairs and brought a parcel wrapped in pale cloth.

Inside was a soft shawl in a shade Adriana had admired weeks earlier and apparently forgotten mentioning.

She looked at Cassia.

“You remembered.”

“Lysandra remembered which shop.”

“Cassia remembered the color,” Lysandra added.

Adriana drew it over her shoulders immediately.

Then she patted the seats beside her.

“Now tell me something that happened at college.”

Cassia hesitated.

“Do you need—”

“A story,” Adriana said. “Preferably one involving that unfortunate history minister.”

Lysandra groaned.

Cassia began laughing.

Adriana settled back, satisfied.

The relief party reached Havenreach while the musicians were taking a break.

Mary came to the doorway and caught my eye.

I stepped outside to hear the report.

All forty-eight had arrived.

One of the sick passengers needed immediate attention, and the healers were already with her. The rest were being fed and settled. The soldiers had handed over their account of the roads and asked whether they could remain near the families overnight.

They could.

“Does Mirelle need to come?” I asked.

“Not immediately. Tomorrow will do more good, after they've slept.”

I nodded.

Mary glanced through the open doors at Adriana laughing with her sister.

“Tell them everyone reached the city.”

“I will.”

When I returned, Mirelle read my expression before I spoke.

I told her quietly.

Her hand tightened around her cup.

Adriana heard and reached toward her mother.

For several moments, they held hands without saying anything.

Then Julian asked, “Can we take the games tomorrow?”

Mirelle nodded.

“Tomorrow.”

The musicians began again.

At dusk, Adriana asked to sit outside for a little while.

Evelyn brought the new shawl. I carried the chair only after Adriana pointed out that moving an empty chair was easier than lifting the one she occupied.

Thor appeared disappointed by the missed opportunity.

We settled near the open doors, close enough for everyone to join us and far enough from the tables that the conversation softened.

Cassia and Lysandra sat on the low wall, comparing the next week's assignments. Julian leaned against his grandfather while discussing what games the newly arrived children might know.

The twins and their Concordian companions had finally exhausted themselves.

Carol slept against Helena. Ignatius had surrendered in Io's lap. Garrick Grey and Seraphina remained awake through what looked like personal resentment of the others' success.

Adriana opened the little book on her knees.

“Already?” Evelyn asked.

“I don't want to forget.”

She wrote for a while.

Then turned the book so we could see.

The first page held only a few lines: warm bread, her mother's hand, Cassia laughing, the baby moving during the music.

At the bottom she had added that forty-eight people had come home, though most had never seen Havenreach before.

I read that line twice.

Adriana closed the book and rested against us.

Beyond the walls, the ridge where I had arrived as lightning darkened against the sky.

Tonight, I had no wish to cross the distance.