Casket of Souls

safety of our land for generations to come. As we mourn the loss of our queen, so must we honor her sacrifice and victory.”
    “But the victory is yours,” one of the generals, Sarit, said.
    “I only finished what my sister started,” Klia told him. “And now I must complete another task. I’m starting for Skala today by sea, to bring the Sword of Gherilain to its rightful owner. In the meantime, General Moraus, you will assume command here; see to the wounded until spring, then bring the army home.” She paused. “And I have a field promotion to make. Captain Beka Cavish, step forward.”
    Beka, who’d been standing with Anri and Danos, looked up in surprise, and in the brightening light Klia could see how weary and bloodstained she was. Wind-burned as shewas, her face was pale behind the freckles, and it was clear she hadn’t slept, either. Nonetheless, she came forward and saluted smartly.
    Klia smiled. “I’m promoting you, Beka Cavish. These past five years you have served well, rendered untold service to the royal family, and exemplified valor on the field. From this day forward, you are a commander of the Queen’s Horse Guard.”
    A murmur went through the assembly. Most knew that her father was a foreigner, and of low rank. They had no idea of his service to the Crown. Klia stilled it with a sharp look, then unhooked her silver and gold gorget and presented it to Beka.
    After a stunned instant, Beka took it in both hands and went down on one knee. “Thank you, Highness, for this immense honor. I will not fail you.”
    “I know you won’t. I call you all to bear witness. Rise, Commander Beka Cavish, and assume your place with your peers.”
    When the last of the night’s work was finished at last, Klia made her way wearily back to Phoria’s pavilion to sit vigil, accompanied by the generals and commanders. As she neared it, she noticed Danos nearby. He saluted her with a wan smile. She returned it, wondering what the future held for him.

 
    T HAT same night Alec watched with Seregil, Micum, and Thero from the shadows as the last of Atre’s troupe set off in the direction of the theater.
    Patch and the other horses were hobbled in the narrow alley behind them, and nickered softly. Among all his other worries, Alec hoped that no one stole Patch.
    The house was dark, but a lone watchman with a lantern had been left to guard the place. Seregil had seen the cook and serving girl leave after the evening meal, and none of them had seen any other servants during the day.
    All but Thero were armed with swords, and Alec had his Black Radly in case of a chase. He’d taken off the shatta and stuffed a woolen muffler Illia had knitted him inside the quiver to keep the arrows from rattling. And for luck, too, he admitted to himself.
    It was a clear night, with a lopsided autumn moon casting bright bars of light between the buildings. There were no walls around the houses in this neighborhood, making it that much harder to approach without being seen, though it was probably just as well with Thero along. The wizard had wisely dressed in breeches and a dark tunic, but he probably wasn’t up to much climbing.
    “I’ll do the honors,” whispered Micum, starting away.
    Just then, however, a tiny orb of blue light winked into existence in front of Thero.
    As the others exchanged puzzled looks, the wizard touched the message sphere gently. To Alec’s surprise, there was novoice, at least not one that he could hear, as was usual with Thero’s message spells. But clearly Thero could hear something, for his face went very still as he replied softly, “I understand.” The little light sped away with its new message.
    “What’s going on?” hissed Seregil.
    The wizard gave the sign for
Watcher business
, then pulled a button from his coat and handed it to Seregil. “Keep this with you. I’ll find you.” With that, he mounted his horse and rode away down the side alley.
    “Bilairy’s Balls!” Seregil muttered, staring after him in disbelief.
    “What do we do?” asked Alec.
    “What we’ve always done.” Seregil carefully tucked Thero’s button away in his belt pouch. “Our job.”
    Thero rode in stunned silence as the import of Klia’s message sank in. The queen was dead, the war was won, and Klia would be back in the city, accompanying the fallen queen’s body and bearing the great sword to Elani, in perhaps a week’s time. He was to break the news to Prince Korathan.