Traitor's Moon

were a gregarious lot and even managed to pull Thero into the circle despite his initial reticence. There was much joking about the wisdom of dicing with a wizard, but Thero managed to allay their worries by losing every toss. Eventually people began to wander off to find their beds for the night—some alone, some in pairs.
    Alec felt a pang of envy as Steb slipped an arm around Mirn on their way below. Seregil had been distracted by other concerns lately, and the lack of privacy here hadn’t helped matters. Stretching out on the hatch cover, he resigned himself to a few more days of abstinence.
    To his surprise, Thero joined him. Crossing his arms behind his head, the wizard hummed a few bars of the song, then said, “I’ve been watching Seregil. He seems apprehensive about returning to Aurënen.”
    â€œThere are plenty of folks who won’t welcome him.”
    â€œI felt the same, going back to the Orëska House that day we all returned from Plenimar,” Thero said softly. “Nysander saw to it that my name was cleared before he left that last time, but there’ll always be doubts in some people’s minds as to how much my—” He paused, as if the words were as distasteful as the memory. “How much my affair with Ylinestra had to do with the attack on the Orëska House that night. Even I’ll never be certain.”
    â€œBetter to look forward than back, I guess.”
    â€œI suppose so.”
    They fell silent again, two young men gazing into the infinite mystery of the night sky.
    The next few days passed quietly enough. Too quietly, in fact. Bored and at loose ends, Alec found himself missing their lost solitude, just as Seregil had predicted.
    Quarters belowdecks were too close for Seregil’s taste, the air too pungent with the smell of oil and horses. Curtained alcoves had been hastily knocked together for the passengers of rank, but these afforded little more than the illusion of privacy. Taking advantage of the fair weather, he and Alec claimed a sheltered section of deck beneath the overhang of the forward castle. It was comfortable enough there—for sleeping.
    Not one to stand on rank, Klia lolled about with the rest of them, sharing tales of the war.
    â€œI don’t suppose you two would consider joining the Horse Guard?” she asked, giving Seregil and Alec a pointed look as theysat in the shade of the sail with Thero and Braknil. “Men with your talents are in short supply these days. I could use you.”
    â€œI never expected it to last this long,” Alec said.
    â€œSomething’s changed since the new Overlord took over,” Klia said, shaking her head. “His father kept the treaties.”
    â€œThis one’s been fed on tales of lost glories,” Braknil said around the stem of his pipe.
    â€œBy his uncle Mardus, no doubt,” Seregil agreed. “Still, it was bound to happen.”
    â€œWhat makes you say that?” asked Thero.
    He shrugged. “Peace follows war. War follows peace. Necromancy is suppressed, only to grow in secret, until it bursts like a boil. Some things are eternal, like the pattern of the tides.”
    â€œThen you don’t think a lasting peace can ever be achieved?”
    â€œIt depends on your point of view. This war will end, and maybe there’ll be peace through Klia’s lifetime, perhaps even that of her children, But wizards and Aurënfaie live long enough to see that sooner or later it all starts again—the same old pull and haul of greed, need, power, and pride.”
    â€œIt’s like a great wheel, always turning, or the changes of the moon,” mused Braknil. “No matter what things look like today, change is always coming, for good or ill. When I was a lad, new to the regiment, my old sergeant used to ask us if we’d rather live a short time in peace or a long time in war.”
    â€œWhat did you say?” asked Seregil.
    â€œWell now, as I recall I always wanted more choices than that. Thank the Flame, I think I got ’em. But it’s true what you said, though I often forget it. You and these two young fellows will see more turns of that wheel than any of us. Someday when you look in the mirror and see as much grey in your hair as I’ve got, drink a pint to my dusty bones, won’t you?”
    â€œI forget sometimes, too,” Klia murmured, and Alec saw her study Seregil’s face, and then his