On the third day after leaving Oksen
The fork came into view shortly before noon.
The road divided between two moss-covered boulders. The left-hand track ran northwest, toward the capital of Valskar. The right descended from the pass and, a few miles on, was supposed to join the old imperial highway leading south.
Beside the left boulder, hooves and broad wheels had churned the mud.
The night's rain had filled the tracks with water, but Kain could still make out the marks of three carriages. Two had traveled abreast almost as far as the fork; the third had lagged behind and veered onto the verge several times.
That was how the northern group had traveled when it left Oksen the day before.
Toren was already somewhere beyond the forest.
For now, the distance between them amounted to a single day's journey. Kain could picture the road his friend was taking, the old horses, the blue pennant bearing a silver wolf, and the silent retainers escorting the candidates to the capital of Valskar.
In a month, that distance would be greater.
In a year, greater still.
Kain ran his fingers over the red woolen thread around his wrist. Rain and road dust had darkened it.
Beneath his shirt, his father's silver clasp lay cold against his skin.
Vi stand saman.
"They passed yesterday morning," Ilva said.
She sat on the edge of the rear carriage, holding the medicine chest in place with one foot. For the first two days of the journey, Ilva had tried to maintain the gravity expected of a future imperial student. By the third, it had become clear that gravity did not mix well with jolting, rain, and the need to help the driver scrape mud from a wheel every few hours.
"I can see that," Kain replied.
"Then why are you standing there?"
"Checking the tracks."
"For the third time?"
"Last time, I was checking the road."
"And now?"
"The tracks."
Ilva shifted over to make room for him.
"Climb up, mighty tracker. The descent starts in an hour. If you keep staring at the mud, Sir Reynar will make you walk beside the wheel all the way to Avalon."
Kain gripped the sideboard.
"Alseif."
Sir Reynar's voice stopped him before he could climb into the carriage.
The Crown knight waited beside the right-hand boulder. His gray traveling cloak concealed his armor, but the clasp of House Corvein remained in plain sight. Reynar sat as straight in the saddle as if three days on the road were no different from the first hour.
"From here on, you will walk to the left of the second carriage," he said. "Ten paces behind the rear wheel."
"Why me?"
"Because I gave the order."
"I can walk up front."
"You can."
Kain waited.
"But?"
"But you will walk where I told you."
One of the two Crown guardsmen turned away to hide a smile.
Kain looked down the southern road. Beyond the fork, it plunged steeply between rain-dark pines.
"It's more dangerous up front."
"Which is why the people up front know how to obey an order the first time."
"I obey orders."
"After discussing them."
"Sometimes an order can be improved."
"Sometimes a gallows can be improved. That does not mean you should test it yourself."
Ilva coughed into her hand.
Kain looked at her.
"Don't you dare laugh."
"I'm cold."
"Of course."
Reynar pointed down the road.
"Ten paces."
Kain took his place beside the second carriage.
In three days, he had learned that sitting too long made his back and legs ache, while walking too long beside a wheel made everything else ache. Sir Reynar called it alternating the strain. Kain suspected the knight had simply found a convenient way to test his patience without wasting words.
Magister Liara Savren rode past as though she had not noticed the exchange.
Her dark blue traveling clothes bore none of the embroidered stars, silver chains, or other ornaments mages wore in fairground pictures. She had only a narrow leather case at her belt and two copper rings on her fingers.
She rode less well than Reynar, but in three days had not complained once about either the rain or the cold.
As she drew level with Kain, Liara said,
"Ten paces, not nine."
"Will you be counting too?"
"No. Seeing how much precision irritates you will be enough."
She rode on.
Ilva laughed after all.
The carriages turned south.
Their farewells remained in Oksen.
Here, only the roads had parted.
Beyond the pass, the land began to change.
First the firs gave way to pines and bare birches. Then the forest opened altogether, and Kain saw the valley in its entirety for the first time: broad and gray-green, divided by a river and narrow strips of fields.
Villages lay dark against the distant slopes.
Stone walls stretched between the fields. At the water's edge stood a mill whose wheel was twice a man's height. Another could be seen beyond it, and farther downstream stood a long building with a tall chimney.
In Oksen, the world always came up against something.
A wall.
A forest.
A hill.
Snow.
Here, it continued all the way to the horizon.
They reached the old highway after midday.
The road was wider than Oksen's market street. In the lowlands it ran atop a stone embankment, bridges spanned the streams, and every mile a numbered marker stood by the roadside.
Four men were working beside one of the markers. They were removing a cracked stone and setting a new one in its place, though the nearest settlement lay far behind them.
Kain watched them as the column passed.
"What?" Ilva asked.
"Nothing."
"You're looking at those road workers as if they know some secret."
Kain pointed to the bridge ahead.
Three stone arches crossed the river. Each was wide enough for two loaded carriages to pass side by side.
"How many people does it take to build something like that?"
"A lot."
"Helpful."
"I'm going to be a healer, not a mason."
"Several hundred," Liara said without turning. "And as many again to quarry the stone, burn the lime, make the tools, feed the workers, guard the supply trains, and tally the expense."
"We build bridges in the North too."
"I never claimed otherwise."
"It sounded like you did."
Liara looked back at last.
"Do you argue even with things no one has said to you?"
"If I wait long enough, you'll say them anyway."
"Kain," Ilva warned.
"Leave him," the magister said. "At least while he is arguing, he is listening."
Sir Reynar rode at the head of the column and did not intervene.
Traveling with them were two Crown guardsmen, two drivers, and seven candidates selected in Oksen. The lead carriage carried provisions, tents, and some of their equipment. The rear held those who needed to rest, the medicine chests, the commission's scrolls, and Liara's sealed coffer.
Every evening, Reynar personally checked the locks.
Before leaving, Kain had thought a road was a simple thing: choose a direction and do not stop.
For Reynar, it consisted of dozens of rules.
No one left the column without permission.
They drew water only after its source had been inspected.
At a halt, the horses were unsaddled in a prescribed order.
Before bridges, the distance between the carriages was increased; on descents, it was shortened.
Even a person's place alongside the column changed only on command.
"We aren't a legion," Kain said when Reynar ordered him back to the rear wheel for the third time.
"Which is why I am asking so little of you for now."
"And if there is no danger?"
"Then you have an excellent opportunity to learn before it appears."
Kain looked across the fields.
To the left, a plowman guided a pair of heavy oxen. To the right, women gathered late root vegetables from the beds. Ahead, a wagon loaded with barrels crawled along the road.
"There is no danger here," he said.
"Do you know these lands?"
"I can see."
"The human eye is a peculiar thing. It notices what it expects to see."
"And what do you see?"
"Seven inexperienced candidates, two heavy carriages, a mage with valuable cargo, and a road traveled by hundreds of people every day."
"And who is going to attack us?"
Reynar nodded toward the wagon of barrels.
"That driver, for example."
Kain looked more closely.
The man holding the reins was old and stooped, and occupied with cursing at the left-hand horse.
"Him?"
"You have already decided he poses no threat."
"Because he's an old man."
"Then anyone who wishes to attack you need only look old."
"You make everything complicated."
"That is my job."
As the old driver drew level with the column, he raised a hand and called,
"Is the road open in the North?"
"For now," one of the guardsmen replied.
"They say Trinity is restless again."
"They say all kinds of things on the road."
"The road usually hears the news before the palace."
"Then why ask?"
The old man grunted and drove on.
Kain watched the wagon go.
"He was carrying wine," Reynar said.
"I saw."
"No. You saw barrels."
"What's the difference?"
"Two might have held water. One might have held men. And there was a crossbow under the straw."
Kain turned around.
The end of a wooden stock was indeed visible at the back of the wagon.
"How did you know?"
"I looked."
Reynar urged his horse forward.
"Ten paces, Alseif."
Kain returned to his place in silence.
By evening, the rain had caught up with them.
It was not northern rain—there was no icy sleet, no wind to cut at the face—but it fell steadily and relentlessly. The road darkened. The horses lowered their heads.
They stopped for the night at a government waystation.
A low stone wall enclosed a stable, a barn, a smithy, and a long house roofed in red tile. Two shields hung above the gates: the silver wolf of Valskar and the golden dragon of Avalon.
Between them was the black wheel of the Imperial Post.
"Are we in Avalon already?" one of the candidates asked.
"No," the driver replied. "The border is nearly a week away."
"Then why the dragon?"
"The highway is imperial. So is the station."
A fat man in a sodden cloak sat by the gate. When he saw Reynar's clasp, he scrambled to his feet.
"Sir."
"The keeper?"
"Godric Tenn. Dry Stone Waystation."
Kain looked at the water pouring from the roof in unbroken streams.
The keeper noticed.
"The summer was dry when they built it."
"And then they forbade you to change the name?" Kain asked.
"And then we got used to it."
Godric opened the gates.
Three merchant wagons, a light postal coach, and a covered carriage stood in the yard already. Two men were arguing beside the last of them.
"I ordered a fresh team this morning!" one of them shouted.
He wore a dark traveling doublet, soft leather boots, and a short cloak edged in silver.
"And they gave me these nags!"
The keeper stopped.
"Master Virren, your horses are ready."
"Then why are they being hitched to another coach?"
Godric looked at Reynar.
"The Imperial Post."
"I paid."
"The Post takes precedence."
"I serve House Valeron."
"And the courier serves the Empire."
The man's face turned crimson.
Meanwhile, the postal groom tightened the girth without paying the argument the slightest attention.
Kain smirked.
Master Virren heard him.
"What do you find so amusing?"
"Nothing."
"Then keep your eyes on the ground."
Kain turned his head.
"It's wet."
Reynar was beside them before the man could answer.
"This candidate is under my charge."
Virren noticed the Corvein insignia.
"I did not know, sir."
"Now you do."
The man backed away, but looked at Kain as though committing his face to memory.
When he was gone, Reynar said,
"I did not give you leave to engage him."
"He spoke to me."
"He ordered you to look at the ground."
"I didn't obey."
"I noticed."
"Do you think I should have?"
Reynar was silent for a moment.
"No."
Kain waited for more.
"But?"
"But once again, you answered before deciding what you wanted to achieve."
The words struck more precisely than Kain had expected.
First decide what you want to achieve.
That was what Halvar used to say.
Kain looked at the closed stable door.
"He would have thought I was afraid."
"Perhaps."
"Then I did the right thing."
"Perhaps."
"Do you have the same answer for everything?"
"No."
"What about now?"
"Now I am wondering how long you will continue to mistake having the last word for winning."
Reynar headed toward the gates.
"Get everyone settled. Supper in an hour. Watches afterward."
Kain remained in the rain.
Ilva walked past carrying the medicine chest.
"Don't look like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're about to defeat him with your next sentence."
"I'm not."
"Then you've already lost."
She went into the house.
Supper was thick barley porridge, boiled turnips, and a slice of salt beef for each of them.
Kain finished everything before the bowl had time to cool.
Ilva sat opposite him, carefully unwinding the bandage around his right palm.
"The wound has opened again."
"I noticed."
"Then why did you keep your fist clenched all day?"
"I didn't."
"The skin split from sheer tranquility?"
Ilva rinsed his palm with warm water.
Kain winced.
"Don't flinch."
"It doesn't hurt."
"Is that why you're flinching?"
"It's cold."
"The water is warm."
"Then the table wobbled."
"Of course."
The candidates from Oksen ate nearby. Two boys with faint golden resonance quietly discussed the Academy. A girl assigned to repeat the magical examination questioned Liara about the capital's towers. The future engineer was more interested in the highway's stone foundations and the construction of its bridges.
No one spoke of home.
Kain did not intend to either.
And yet he thought of Marta.
Of how she would be closing the shutters now.
Of Mia, who was surely arguing over who should sleep closer to the wall—her or the wooden goat.
Of the empty place at the table.
Kain lowered his eyes.
The wet red thread around his wrist had turned almost black.
"Give me your other hand," Ilva said.
"That one is fine."
"I can see blood."
"It's old."
"Blood doesn't become useful just because it's old."
She reached for his wrist.
Kain quickly pulled down his sleeve, hiding the thread and the chain that held the clasp.
Ilva noticed the movement but asked no questions.
At the other end of the room, Godric was speaking to one of the guardsmen.
"Flour has gone missing from the storeroom again."
"Rats."
"Rats don't carry off iron brackets."
"Then your workers."
"Workers don't fit through a hole the size of a bucket."
The guardsman stopped chewing.
"Where is the hole?"
"Under the old barn. We've sealed it twice."
"With stone?"
"Wood the first time."
"Clever."
"Then stone."
"And?"
Godric looked toward the dark window.
"By morning, half the masonry was lying on the inside."
Sir Reynar raised his head.
"When did this begin?"
"Ten days ago or so. First two chickens vanished. Then a hammer. Yesterday, a sack of oats."
"Tracks?"
"Small ones."
One of the drivers swore.
"Goblins."
The room grew quieter.
The candidates exchanged glances.
Kain had seen a goblin only once—dead, tied to a hunting sled. A small, sinewy body, long arms, gray-green skin, and ears like frostbitten leaves.
The hunters had found it near the northern trail after an attack on shepherds.
Marta had not allowed Mia out of the house until the body was taken away.
"Here?" the future engineer asked. "This far from the wastelands?"
Godric gave a humorless smile.
"The goblins were here before the highway."
"They belong to the Horde," one of the candidates said.
"They do," Reynar agreed. "But that does not mean every pack came down from the North last week."
He turned to the keeper.
"Are there old workings beneath the station?"
"There used to be quarries. They were closed about eighty years ago."
"Do any plans survive?"
"In the archives of the highway office. Two days from here."
"How many people have disappeared?"
"None."
"Animals?"
"Three chickens and a kid."
"Then for now, they are stealing rather than hunting."
Godric lowered his voice.
"For now."
Liara set down her spoon.
"If the pack has lived beneath the station for ten days, it has already learned the routine."
"Or it came through the old tunnels and is looking for food," Reynar said. "We will post a double watch tonight. No one enters the barn without me."
Kain looked toward the door.
Reynar noticed at once.
"Especially you."
"I didn't say anything."
"Your face is remarkably eloquent."
"What if they come out?"
"Raise the alarm."
"And then?"
"Do not crawl into the hole."
"I won't."
"Good."
"If it's too narrow."
Ilva covered her face with one hand.
Reynar stared at Kain for a long moment.
"Someday, Alseif, you will receive an order you cannot turn into an argument."
"Probably."
"I hope someone nearby has time to tie you up."
The Crown guardsmen took the first watch.
Kain was assigned the second, from midnight until the second bell, with a driver named Velt.
The rain had stopped, but the cold had deepened.
The yard smelled of wet straw, horse sweat, and smoke. A slender crescent moon hung above the wall. Beyond the gates, the highway vanished into darkness.
Velt sat beneath the shelter, wrapped in his cloak.
"Walk more slowly," he said.
Kain stopped.
"Will you fall asleep?"
"No. Your pacing is making the horses nervous."
"They're asleep."
"Horses sleep with their ears."
Kain looked into the nearest stall. The mare had indeed turned one ear toward him.
"Convenient."
"It would be more convenient still if they could harness themselves."
Velt yawned.
"First time far from home?"
"Is it obvious?"
"You look north every hour."
Kain turned away.
"I'm looking at the road."
"Of course."
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
Snoring drifted from the house. A horse shifted in the stable. Somewhere beyond the wall, an owl hooted.
Kain walked slowly along the length of the barn.
The hole Godric had mentioned was at the far corner. Two heavy boards covered it, weighted down with stones. Fresh masonry showed around the edges.
Kain crouched.
Small footprints marked the wet ground.
Four toes.
A narrow heel.
The tracks led to the wall and disappeared beneath the boards.
He rose.
"Velt."
The driver did not answer.
Kain looked beneath the shelter.
Velt was sitting with his eyes closed.
"Velt."
"I'm not asleep."
"The tracks are fresh."
The driver rose slowly.
At that moment, a faint scraping came from inside the barn.
Both of them went still.
Someone was moving a stone from the other side.
Velt placed a hand on his short sword.
"Wake the knight."
Kain nodded.
Long gray fingers appeared in the gap between the boards.
Then one edge of the board lifted.
Kain stepped back.
Velt was already turning toward the house when a shower of stone grit fell from the barn roof.
Kain jerked his head up.
A dark figure dropped from the edge.
Velt had time only to turn his head. The blow struck him between the shoulder blades, and the driver fell facedown in the mud. A dark stain spread at once across his wet cloak.
The goblin stood as high as Kain's chest, a sinewy creature with disproportionately long arms. Scraps of leather and rope hung from its body. A sharpened strip of iron gleamed in its fist.
Kain had no time to be afraid.
He stepped forward.
Caught its wrist.
The iron slid across his sleeve and sliced into his forearm. The pain came later—at first, Kain felt only a hot, wet line beneath the cloth.
The goblin wrenched away with such force that Kain lurched sideways. A stench of rot gusted from its maw. Kain smashed his forehead into its face.
There was a sharp crunch. The goblin staggered back, choking on its own shriek. Blood ran down its chin.
Velt rolled over and tore his sword from its sheath.
"Alarm!"
A crack answered from inside the barn.
The board flew outward. A second head appeared in the gap, followed by a shoulder and an arm holding a short knife.
Kain snatched up the wooden stake lying beside the wall and planted himself between the breach and Velt.
The familiar heat rose in his chest.
Faint at first.
Then sudden and fierce.
It raced from his heart to his shoulders as though a fine red thread had ignited beneath his skin.
The Blood.
His fingers tightened around the stake.
Stann.
Power you cannot control does not belong to you.
Halvar's voice sounded almost beside him in his memory.
It will control you.
Kain breathed out through his teeth and did not reach for the heat. He kept it from rising beyond his chest. The warmth shuddered in resistance, then began to recede.
The first goblin lunged at him again.
Kain met it with the stake. The blow landed in its chest and flung the creature back into the mud. A dark smear remained on the wood.
The second was almost through the breach.
The house door flew open.
Sir Reynar ran into the yard without his cloak, but with his sword drawn. Both Crown guardsmen followed him.
"Away from the barn!"
Kain remained in front of the breach. Behind him, Velt was struggling up onto one knee.
"Alseif!"
There was no irritation or lesson in Reynar's voice now. Only command.
Kain retreated.
The first goblin tried to rise. Reynar reached it before it could find its weapon in the mud. His sword flashed once.
The goblin collapsed. Its blood mingled with the rainwater and ran in a thin, dark stream between the stones.
The second creature hurled itself out. A guardsman met it with the rim of his shield and drove it back into the breach.
An arm holding a knife darted from the darkness. Reynar cut through the wrist and followed at once with a second short blow. The shriek cut off.
Another shadow flickered deeper inside the tunnel and vanished.
"Seal the passage!" Reynar ordered.
The guardsmen braced a heavy beam against the boards. The drivers hauled over more stones. Scraping and hurried footsteps continued beneath the barn for a few moments, then the depths swallowed every sound.
Lanterns were lit throughout the yard.
Only then did Kain feel his fingers trembling. Blood—his own—darkened his sleeve. The heat of the Blood had gone, leaving cold and an unpleasant hollowness beneath his ribs.
Godric ran out of the house carrying an axe. Liara appeared behind him, fastening her traveling robe. Fine blue lines glided over her fingers.
Ilva knelt beside Velt.
"Where are you hurt?"
"I don't know."
"Very helpful."
She ran her hands along his back. His coat was torn, but the strip of iron had only glanced off the leather reinforcement.
"A scratch and a bad bruise."
"That's what I thought."
"Is that why you're lying facedown in the mud?"
"I'm inspecting the ground."
Kain looked at the dead goblins.
By lantern light, they seemed smaller than they had during the attack. Gaunt bodies, long arms, scraps of leather in place of clothing. One wore a cord around its neck strung with rusty keys and bits of bone.
No armor.
No markings of the northern tribes.
No weapons except stolen iron.
Liara crouched beside the nearest body without touching it.
"I sense no Taint."
"Then they aren't connected to the northern shamans?" one of the guardsmen asked.
"It means only that there is no discernible Taint on them."
Reynar examined the breach.
"An ordinary subterranean pack. Hungry, and far too accustomed to humans."
"But goblins belong to the Horde," one of the candidates said.
"They do," Reynar replied. "The Horde is more than an army beyond the northern border. Remnants of its tribes have hidden in mines, caves, and old underground roads for centuries."
Godric looked at the barn.
"How many are down there?"
"Enough that you should stop calling them rats."
"What do we do now?"
"Send a man to the nearest garrison in the morning. Keep the barn sealed until the soldiers arrive. No one goes underground."
"They might have another way out."
"Then post guards and warn the neighboring stations."
Godric's expression darkened.
"I have two stable hands and a cook."
"Then stop charging for safe lodging until the danger has been removed."
That appeared to trouble the keeper more than the goblins themselves.
Reynar turned to Kain.
"You felt the Blood."
It was not a question.
"A little."
Liara came over and took him by the wrist.
"Pulse elevated. No fever. Vessels intact."
"I stopped it."
"You say a great many things."
"But this one is true."
Reynar looked at the wooden stake in his hand.
"Why did you stop it?"
Kain remembered Halvar's voice.
Power you cannot control does not belong to you. It will control you.
"I didn't want it deciding for me."
Liara raised her eyes.
For several moments, Reynar was silent.
"Good answer."
Kain had not expected praise and so did not immediately understand that he had received it.
Reynar's gaze shifted to his slashed sleeve.
"But tomorrow, you will not ride in a carriage until we reach the next waystation."
"For what?"
"I had to order you away from the breach twice."
"I was holding them back."
"Even after two armed guardsmen and I were beside you. Your task was over at that point."
Kain clenched his teeth.
"I saved Velt."
The driver, now sitting beside Ilva, raised a hand.
"That's true."
"Which is why I praised him," Reynar said. "Then Alseif once again decided for himself which order to obey at once and which to consider first."
"The difference seems small when a goblin is sitting on top of you," Velt observed.
"For you, it is small. For a man who may one day be responsible for others, it is immense."
Kain looked across the wet yard. Rainwater was already diluting the dark stream beside the barn.
"I'm not responsible for anyone yet."
Reynar looked at Ilva, the candidates, the drivers, and the guardsmen.
"You already are. You simply haven't noticed yet."
He sheathed his sword.
"Take the bodies outside the wall. In the morning, we will give them to the patrol as proof of the pack's presence. Everyone up in four hours."
A highway patrol arrived at dawn.
Six soldiers inspected the breach, the tracks beside the barn, and the bodies of the dead goblins. Their corporal did not look surprised.
"The old workings run into the western hills," he said. "Last spring, we filled in the entrance by the quarry. They must have found another passage."
"Is it a large pack?" Reynar asked.
"It was about twenty strong. We killed half; the rest went deeper underground."
"Then either they survived or another pack joined them."
The corporal nodded to his men.
"Burn the bodies. Two of you, fetch the masons. The rest, inspect the known exits."
The column continued on its way.
Kain walked to the left of the second carriage.
Exactly ten paces behind the wheel.
For the first few hours, no one spoke to him.
Then Ilva leaned over the sideboard.
"Want an apple?"
"Where did you get it?"
"Godric gave it to me."
"For saving his station?"
"For keeping quiet about the fact that he'd been renting rooms above a goblin burrow for ten days."
Kain took the apple.
It was small and sour.
"In Oksen, they feed these to goats."
"You can give it back."
Kain took another bite.
"It's not that bad."
"Of course."
The road gradually grew busier.
Wagons carrying salt, iron, cloth, and grain came toward them. Twice, riders of the Imperial Post overtook the column. On the fourth day, a legion cohort marched past them.
Hundreds of identical shields.
Spears above their shoulders.
The measured thunder of boots.
An officer in a red cloak rode at their head. At the rear came spare mules and two wagons loaded with tools.
The candidates' column was ordered onto the verge.
Kain watched the soldiers pass.
Among them were northerners, Eisenwalders, and men from Valua and Avalon. Their faces, speech, and armor differed, yet they marched to a single rhythm.
"Are they going north?" Ilva asked.
"Most likely," one of the guardsmen replied.
"Has the war already started?"
"If war had started, there would be ten cohorts here."
"Then what is this one for?"
"Reinforcing the garrisons. Relieving troops. Guarding supply trains."
An order passed down the ranks in Avaren.
"Verstanden!" someone on the right flank answered in Eisenar.
Farther along, a northerner struck his fist against his shield and shouted,
"Ved blod og ed!"
Several voices answered him. Then someone began a short northern song, another joined in Avaren, and a third cursed in Valeir when a mule stepped on his boot.
"Are they all from Avalon?" Kain asked.
The driver walking beside him shook his head.
"The Imperial Legion does not belong to any one kingdom."
"The commands sound the same."
"Otherwise they'd kill one another before they reached the enemy."
The last soldiers disappeared beyond the hill.
Deep bootprints and the smell of oiled leather remained on the road.
Kain thought of Toren.
Someday, his friend would march in a formation like that too.
Or alongside one, in a northern warband.
And Kain?
The Academy was still only a word.
Golden lines inside a glass sphere.
A distant tower he had never seen.
He looked at his hands.
Ilva had bandaged one. The other still bore the old calluses left by the wheelbarrow, the hammer, and work in the forest.
Last night, the Blood had answered more quickly than before.
It had not flared.
Had not broken free of his control.
But it had heard the danger.
Kain had felt it.
And stopped it.
Power you cannot control does not belong to you.
He remembered Halvar's voice.
It will control you.
Kain clenched his fingers.
Not this time.
Nine days after leaving Oksen, they reached the border between the kingdoms.
It was neither a wall nor a gate.
A tall stone marker stood beside the road. The wolf of Valskar was carved on its northern face, the dragon of Avalon on its southern one. A thin vertical line ran between the crests.
Dark slabs, roughly fitted together, paved the highway on the northern side.
South of it, the paving became smooth and pale.
Kain stepped across the line.
Nothing happened.
The air did not change.
The ground did not tremble.
Ilva stopped beside him.
"Is that all?"
"What were you expecting?"
"I don't know. A gate."
"The Empire likes gates."
"How do you know?"
"There are two in Oksen."
She looked down the southern road.
"We're in Avalon."
Kain glanced back.
Valskar lay behind them.
Ahead stretched the same road.
"Only one foot so far."
"You'll have to bring the other one across too."
Kain stepped over the line completely.
"Satisfied?"
"A little."
Sir Reynar raised a hand.
The column halted beside the marker.
"The White Bridge is three days from here," he said. "We join the western and eastern groups there. After the document inspection, we proceed to the capital in a single column."
"How many candidates will there be?" one of the boys asked.
"More than you will like."
"Are they all entering the Academy?"
"No. The Academy Tower, schools of healing, the engineering corps, supply services. Aura candidates travel separately."
Kain looked down the road.
"Are they bringing people from Valua and Eisenwald to the White Bridge too?"
"The northern branches of their roads meet our highway there," Reynar replied. "The main routes each take their own course to the capital. But the commissions gather candidates at designated waypoints. The Empire prefers to know whom it is admitting into Avalon."
"What if someone doesn't want to wait for the combined column?"
"They go home."
"Even a noble?"
"Especially a noble. They are more likely to consider a schedule a suggestion."
Kain remembered Master Virren and his horses.
"What if his father serves the king?"
"Then his father receives a letter explaining why his son is incapable of following a simple road."
Ilva said quietly,
"I'm beginning to like Sir Reynar."
"You don't have to walk ten paces behind a wheel," Kain replied.
"Because I obey orders."
"Traitor."
They resumed their journey south.
On the second day, the first great estates came into view.
Not houses—entire domains.
Stone walls ran beside the highway for miles. Sleek-coated horses grazed beyond them. Pavilions stood in the gardens, and manor roofs rose above the trees.
Three peasants labored beside one set of gates, unloading stone under the eye of an armed overseer.
Kain noticed a girl about Mia's age. She carried a basket nearly as large as she was.
Beyond the wall, a boy in a clean cloak practiced with a wooden sword under a tutor's direction.
The girl stumbled.
The basket fell.
The overseer shouted something and struck his switch against the stonework beside her feet.
The boy beyond the wall continued his practice.
Kain slowed.
"Don't fall behind," a guardsman said.
"I see."
The girl gathered the scattered stones.
Kain looked toward the manor house.
Its windows were taller than the door of their home in Oksen.
Two stone statues stood on one of its balconies.
He wondered how many silver coins each had cost.
Then he remembered Kaspar Veld appraising the wool, the goat, and Mia's blanket.
Kain quickened his pace.
He drew no conclusion.
He merely remembered.
The White Bridge came into view on the afternoon of the third day.
Kain saw the towers first.
Two squat stone fortresses stood on opposite banks of a broad river. Between them stretched a bridge of pale stone, so long that the wagons crossing it looked like tiny toys.
Beyond the river, the roads converged.
A column approached from the west beneath blue banners bearing the golden falcons of Valua.
From the east came carriages beneath white standards emblazoned with the black double-headed eagles of Eisenwald.
The northern highway Kain had traveled descended toward them from the hill.
And beyond the bridge began a broad, straight road.
The Crown Highway.
The road to Avalon.
Dozens of carriages stood around the post yard. Stable hands led horses. Guards inspected documents. Candidates in expensive cloaks argued with their servants, commoners sat on sacks eating bread, and mages kept near a separate building whose roof bristled with copper lightning rods.
Kain stopped at the crest of the slope.
Until that day, the Empire had existed for him in words.
In the tax register.
In the decree.
In the insignia on Reynar's cloak.
In the golden dragon above a waystation gate.
Now it stood before him.
Noisy.
Immense.
Crowded with people who spoke different languages and still moved in the same direction.
Ilva came closer.
"This still isn't Avalon?"
"No," Kain said.
"It looks as though half the world lives here."
Sir Reynar reined in beside them.
"Not half."
"Then how many?" Ilva asked.
Reynar looked at the White Bridge.
"You will see in three weeks."
A highway horn sounded below.
The gates opened wider.
The column from Valua entered the yard first. The Eisenwalders followed.
Reynar raised a hand.
"Oksen group! Check your belongings. Ready your documents. Do not leave the carriages."
Kain adjusted his bag.
Inside, the stone Mia called a bear knocked dully against the wooden goat.
His father's silver clasp rested beneath his shirt.
Behind him lay Oksen, Valskar, and everything Kain knew.
Ahead waited people who did not yet know his name.
Kain looked at the White Bridge.
Then he took the first step down.