Shadows Return

watery light in her gold-chased war helm and breastplate, holding the great Sword of Gherilain upright before her. Even more than the crown, the ancient blade was the most potent symbol of her reign, both as ruler and the country’s supreme war commander. The first time Alec had seen Phoria’s mother, Idrilain had been wearing that same armor, and that sword had been hers.
    Phoria’s twin brother, Prince Korathan, rode on her right. He was the Vicegerent now, and it was odd to see him, her equal as a warrior, dressed in robes of state and the flat velvet hat instead of a commander’s uniform. His greying blond hair was still long, in contrast to most of the court. Sitting his huge black charger with the ease of a born warrior, he cut an elegant and regal figure. Unlike Phoria and their younger sister Aralain, he had always been friendly with Seregil, and with his half sister Klia, too. Alec liked him for that.
    The rain pelted down harder, but they lingered on, counting regiments and banners. By the time the last men-at-arms marched past, Alec estimated she’d lost nearly five hundred soldiers, and this was only the Rhíminee force they were seeing. The cartloads of funeral urns were never part of the official proceedings.
    “Come on,” Seregil said at last through chattering teeth. “The Cavishes will have arrived by now.”
             
    They stole a ride on the back of a passing wagon and arrived back at Wheel Street to find Micum and his family waiting for them in the painted salon.
    Kari hurried over to embrace Alec, balancing three-year-old, red-haired Gherin on one hip. The child reached out and grabbed at Alec’s braid. “Muncle Arek!”
    “There you are, my sweet boy!” Kari cried, kissing Alec soundly on both cheeks. “A whole lovely summer gone and you only came out to Watermead twice? What has Seregil had you doing?”
    “You know better than to ask that, my love.” Micum chuckled, limping over to clasp hands with Seregil. He was dressed for town today in a fine embroidered coat and his best sword belt, and leaning on a polished walking stick with an ivory head carved in the shape of a fish—a gift from Seregil.
    It still hurt to see him like this, his stiff leg a constant reminder of that awful day four years ago. They all carried wounds; Micum’s was the most visible, but Seregil’s by far the deepest. The closest he ever came to speaking of it these days were the nights when he woke up yelling or crying, drenched in cold sweat. But none of that showed when he was awake and in command of himself.
    Seregil embraced his old friend, then looked around. “And where’s my little bird?”
    “Here, Uncle!” Illia came tripping lightly down the staircase, flanked by Seregil’s two huge white Zengati hounds, Mârag and Zir, and carrying her foster brother piggyback. Ten now, Illia was dark and pretty like her mother and middle sister, Elsbet, and trying to act very grown-up. “Luthas wanted to see the picture books in the library again. He remembered them from our last visit. Just a minute, though. I brought you presents!” She let Luthas down and ran back upstairs.
    “Uncle!” Luthas ran to throw his arms around Seregil’s knees. Seregil ruffled the child’s hair, but Alec didn’t miss the fleeting look of sadness in his friend’s eyes.
    Mercifully, Luthas was too young to remember his mother and grandparents, or how Seregil had saved him from the burning inn. He’d always had a special affection for Seregil, though, and Seregil was always kind to the child, even though Alec knew how he dreaded the day that the boy learned the truth of his past.
    Illia clattered back downstairs with two bulky brown bundles under her arms. “I made these for you. It took me all summer!”
    Alec unfolded his and shook out a well-made woolen sweater. Seregil’s was the same, in darker wool.
    “Well now, look at that.” Seregil gave Alec a wink. “The arms are the same length and everything.”
    “I’ll take it back!” Illia warned, grinning too broadly to look very insulted.
    Seregil hugged her. “Oh no you won’t! The first flake of snow I see, I’m putting this on until spring.”
    “It’s because of all those stories you told me, how cold it was at that cabin you lived in. If you ever go off like that again, you can take these!”
    Alec kissed her. “Thank you. And as it happens, we have some surprises, too.”
    He went into the dining room and retrieved two little