“I ask as you request,” Adranaska said, “but Kindanog is busy man. He regret he cannot see you.”

Felitïa nodded, a frown on her face. “I understand. Thank you for trying.”

Meleng knew she had been trying to arrange this meeting for some time. It must have been disappointing for her.

Adranaska bowed his head. “Please, excuse me, Highness. I have duties.”

“Of course,” Felitïa said. As Adranaska turned away, she sighed. “There’s got to be some way I can get in to see him.”

“Have you thought of asking Maneshka?” Meleng suggested. “She might know some other way.”

“I don’t want to impose on her. I don’t want her to think I’m asking her do something untoward. She’s doing a lot for us as it is.”

“She doesn’t necessarily have to do something herself,” Meleng said. “Just ask if she knows some other method. Maybe there’s another way to officially petition for a meeting.”

Felitïa half-shrugged, half-nodded. “I suppose. Let’s do that tomorrow morning when we start.”

This was one of the few moments Meleng had left the library for anything other than sleep in the past five days. He hadn’t even done much sleeping. He would have still been there right now, but Quilla had insisted he take a break. “You’ll work yourself to death and that won’t accomplish anything,” she’d said.

Not that they’d accomplished much so far anyway. He had read through a lot of material, but none of it had turned out to be helpful. Despite the large selection of works, the amount of material they had found about Volgs was small and they had found nothing mentioning the Will-Breaker. Not only was the catalogue difficult to decipher—even Maneshka with her years of experience using it, had to consult copious notes to translate it—but the stacks were confusing as well. There was a pattern to the arrangement of books, but it was complex, based partially on author, partially on subject matter, partially on place of origin, and partially on something called religious significance, which just seemed to be an arbitrary value created by whoever designed the system—a value that could cause a work to be located in a completely different place than it would otherwise.

Nevertheless, he had learned some fascinating things, even if they weren’t what he and Felitïa were looking for—details about countries and peoples long vanished from the world, ones he would never have heard of if he’d never come here. Just this morning, he had read a transcript of a trade negotiation meeting between two Volg nations. It had never occurred to him that there might have been a time when there was more than one Volg country—though for all he knew, maybe there was more than one now. One thing that interested him about the otherwise dry transcript was that one of the Volg participants was clearly identified as female. The only other time Meleng had ever encountered a reference to a female Volg was an old fairy tale about a Volg shapeshifter. In the tale, an Arnorin noblewoman turned out to be a Volg shapeshifted into human form and was burned at the stake.

Most remarkable about the ancient works was just how ancient they were—over two thousand years old. Unbelievably valuable to historians, but almost certainly long pre-dating the things he and Felitïa needed information about.

“Adranaska!”

It was Queen Annai calling out. She was striding down the path between the apartments towards the old man. The King hurried a short distance behind her, along with several Kingsguard, including Captain DeSeloön—although Meleng was unsure if his rank was still captain.

“A word, if you please!” the Queen called out.

Adranaska stopped and turned to face her.

“Let’s go eavesdrop,” Felitïa said, and walked up towards her mother and the old man.

Meleng didn’t really want to get that close to the Queen, but he followed along, making a point of staying behind Felitïa. She was a little taller than he was, so maybe no one would notice him.

Adranaska bowed low lower than he did with Felitïa or Cerus. “How may I serve, Majesty?”

The Queen had a scowl on her face and her cheeks were red. “It has come to my attention that a delegation from Ninifin has just arrived.”

“Yes, correct, Majesty,” Adranaska said.

“This is unacceptable!”

“I...do not understand,” Adranaska said.

“The Arnorin delegation represents Ninifin. They do not get their own delegation.”

Adranaska stumbled over his words. “But...they are land. All lands, all countries come to meeting.”

“Ninifin is part of Arnor.”

“It is? It is sovereign, no?”

“No, it is not,” the Queen snapped. “Arnor has never recognised its sovereignty, and we demand that they be removed. Ninifin does not get a voice at this meeting. Arnor will speak on their behalf.”

“I...I will bring objection to ears of Emperor,” Adranaska said.

“Do so quickly, and let his Imperial Majesty know that if Ninifin is allowed a place at the meeting, we will consider it a direct insult against Arnor.”

Adranaska bowed low again. “As you wish.”

Queen Annai didn’t wait for him to rise before spinning around and storming off back to her apartment.

Cerus approached the old man. “Please accept my apology for this unfortunate situation. Political arguments between Arnor and Ninifin are not the fault of his Imperial Majesty. Please let him know on my behalf that I will do what I can to smooth over this situation.”

Adranaska bowed his head to Cerus, then continued on his way.

Cerus made his way over to Meleng and Felitïa. “This could be awkward. I was worried this would happen. To be honest, I was hoping the Ninifins would decide not to come.”

“I don’t envy the task ahead of you,” Felitïa said.

Cerus chuckled. “Yes, but we all have to do what we have to do. How are your studies going?”

“Not well,” Felitïa said. “I’m not sure we’re going to find anything. I may just have to sneak into the Volg apartments and see if I can find out anything there.”

“Won’t that be dangerous?”

“Yes, but like you said, we do what we have to do. I’ll wait till the Isyar get here, though.”

“And you, Meleng?” Cerus asked. “What do you think?”

“There’s a lot of stuff in the library that hasn’t been touched in a very long time. It might have what we’re looking for, but if it does, it’s going to take a long time to find it.”

Cerus nodded. “I must say, I find myself missing our conversations on the Silver Fish. Even if I didn’t always understand half of them, it felt a much simpler time. Well, keep me informed, both of you. I’d better go try to placate your mother, Felitïa. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck,” Felitïa said.

With a grin, Cerus turned away and walked towards the King and Queen’s apartment.

“I’m going to get some sleep,” Felitïa said. “You should too. Quilla’s right. You haven’t been getting enough rest.”

Meleng shrugged. “Just trying to be thorough.”

“And you can’t be thorough if you’re overtired.”

Meleng nodded. He knew she was right. He said goodnight and headed to his apartment.

It was nice to have his own separate apartment here. It might be small, but it was the same size as everyone else’s, except the King and Queen’s. It gave him a small amount of comfort each night he lay down to sleep.

When he reached his apartment, he found Sinitïa waiting by the door, her face red from the sun and damp with sweat.

“There you are! I’ve been waiting forever for you. Where have you been?”

“The library,” he said.

“Again? You’re always in the library. What do you do in there, anyway?”

“Read. That’s...uh...that’s kind of what you do in a library.”

“I used to like reading,” she said with a frown. “I’m not very good though. I wish I was better.”

Meleng almost offered to help her, but stopped himself. He didn’t have time to teach her reading. Maybe on the journey back to Arnor. “Why were you waiting for me?”

“Oh right! I want to show you something. Adranaska got me some paint and canvas, and I found the perfect place to paint. Come on, I’ve got everything set up. You have to see.”

“I really need to sleep,” Meleng said. “Maybe tomorrow?”

“Oh come on, it’s still light. Don’t worry, it won’t take long. It’s not far away.” She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him along with her. He sighed and let her.

She led him towards the path they had followed from the quay and then to a side trail that led around the small lake to the cliff at the other side. There, it led to a cave with a smaller pool inside it. Near the pool stood an easel with canvas draped over it, several small pails of paint, and a pail of brushes. A couple goats also stood there, chewing on the ends of the brushes.

“Oh no!” Sinitïa rushed forward. “No, no, shoo, shoo!” The goats stepped to the side to avoid her, but otherwise ignored her protests. Sinitïa grabbed the pail of brushes and hugged it against her chest. She began examining them. “Most of them are okay. They didn’t get very many.”

Meleng did his best not to laugh.

Sinitïa glared at the goats for a moment, then turned back to Meleng. “Okay, you have to stand over here.” She led him over to a spot just outside the cave where one of the mushroom-shaped trees grew a short distance from the pool.

“What do you want me to do here?”

“Stand still, of course.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to paint you, silly. Adranaska says this type of tree is a dragon’s blood tree. It’s called that because it has red sap, like dragon’s blood. Get it?”

Meleng nodded. “Yeah, I get it. Are you sure this won’t take long?” He didn’t know much about painting, but he had always assumed it was something that took a long time.

“Not long,” Sinitïa said. “A few hours at most. Okay, stand there and don’t move.” She headed back over to her easel.

Meleng glanced in the direction of the sun, which was getting low on the horizon. He did that several times, noting as the sun got lower and lower, and the light began to vanish from the sky. “Are you sure you’re going to have enough light for this?” he called to her.

“Stand still!” she called back. “I’ll be done soon.”

Then she yelped.

Several figures carrying spears moved to surround her. One of them pointed a spear in Meleng’s direction. “You! Over here, now!”

Meleng groaned. This was the last thing he needed. He made his way cautiously over to them.

They were four young women with coppery skin similar to Quilla’s but covered in tattoos. They were also of lither build than Quilla and had more angular faces and heavier eyes. Each wore dark red leather jerkins, with short, black skirts, and sandals on their feet.

The one who had already spoken turned to Sinitïa. “What are you doing here?”

“Painting,” Sinitïa stuttered.

“Painting?”

“Yes, painting. I like to paint.”

The woman stared at Sinitïa with wide eyes. “You’re on a dangerous island where Volgs roam free and you’re painting? Typical Folith.” She spat on the ground.

“What...what are you doing here?” Sinitïa asked.

“I am Nin-Akna,” the woman said, “chief bodyguard to Queen Nin-Xoco of Ninifin. We seek strategic places the Queen can be taken in case of emergency.”

“Emergency?” Meleng asked. “What sort of emergency?”

The woman spun on her heels and stepped up close in front of Meleng, peering at him. She was young, seventeen or eighteen, nineteen at most. She had dark eyes that looked black in the dim light. Her hair was a glossy black, and cropped short. Each side of her face bore a stylised tattoo of a jaguar’s head done mostly in black, each a mirror of the other. The necks of the jaguars continued down her own neck, and her arms and legs bore tattoos of the jaguar’s legs, with the paws on the backs of her hands and tops of her feet. Meleng suspected the tattoos must cover most of her body. “I wasn’t speaking to you. Though I do admire your gall to speak without your liege’s leave. We could liberate you from her if you wish, give you sanctuary with our delegation.”

“Liberate me?”

She nodded. “Free you from slavery. The people of Elooria are enslaved by the Foliths, right?”

“No,” Meleng said. “Not really. I mean, they’re not always very nice to us, but we’re not slaves.”

Nin-Akna blinked. “Oh. I’ve always been told you were slaves. You’re sure of this?”

“Yeah, pretty sure. We’re...we’re not slaves.”

“Why do you hang out with this Folith and do her bidding, then?”

“I’m just helping her. She’s a friend. And a princess.”

“We could take her hostage,” one of the other women said. That tattoos on her arms and legs were of red-and-black snakes, many of them intertwined, some devouring their own tails. Her face, however, bore an eight-pointed sun on her left cheek. The rest of her face was bare of tattoos. She looked about the same age as Nin-Akna, and the other two, Meleng realised, looked even younger.

“Hostage?” Sinitïa whimpered.

“What do you need a hostage for?” Meleng asked.

Nin-Akna stepped away from him at last and Meleng breathed a sigh of relief. Having her that close had been intimidating. “Your delegation has already made hostile intentions known towards us,” she said. “We may need insurance.”

“That’s why you’re here, to find a hostage?”

“No, I told you. We’re looking for strategic places to take the Queen. She fears the Volgs might be treacherous. I agree with her, and her safety is paramount.” She turned to the other woman who had spoken. “I think they’re harmless, and we don’t need a hostage. You can both go.”

“We can?” Sinitïa squealed. “Can I take my easel and paints?”

“Yes, of course. Take them.”

Meleng helped Sinitïa gather and carry her things. The painting was about half done and was looking pretty good. He suggested to her that they could come back another time to finish it. Sinitïa was just eager to get away.

* * * * *

“I thought libraries had books. Where are the books?”

“This is just the entrance and study area,” Meleng replied. “The books are farther in.”

“Oh.” Sinitïa shrugged. She gave a quick wave to Felitïa and Quilla, who were seated at the table closest to the dais with Maneshka standing nearby, then walked over to the nearest painting—this one of an Isyar—and began to study it.

Maneshka said a quiet word to Felitïa, then walked towards Meleng, her arms held out wide. “Greetings, Meleng, and welcome to your friend.”

Sinitïa spun around. “Oh, hi.”

“I am Maneshka, head librarian.”

Sinitïa held out her hand, palm down, to Maneshka. “Sinitïa Alessia Deanna Folith.”

“Felitïa’s younger sister,” Meleng added.

Maneshka bowed. “Welcome, Highness.”

Sinitïa stood there with her hand still out.

“You’re supposed to kiss her hand, I think,” Meleng whispered to Maneshka.

“Apologies, Highness,” Maneshka said. “I am not well-versed in your customs. Forgive me.” She took Sinitïa’s hand and kissed it.

Sinitïa flinched at her touch.

“Is there a problem, Highness?” Maneshka asked.

Sinitïa shook her head. “No, it’s not you. My hand is really sunburnt.”

“As are your face and neck. If it is not too presumptive of me to say, Highness, your fair skin is not well-suited to the climate.”

Sinitïa lowered her head and nodded. “I was outside all day yesterday waiting for Meleng so I could paint him.”

“Your sister has a bit of a sunburn too. I know someone who can give you something to help with that. I will talk to your sister about it. You are a painter?”

Sinitïa nodded her head rapidly. “You have some really good paintings here.”

“Would you like me to show you them?”

“Yes, please.”

Meleng left Sinitïa and Maneshka to talk about painting and went over to Felitïa and Quilla.

“Why is she here?” Felitïa asked as he reached them.

Meleng took a seat on the bench opposite Felitïa. “She’s afraid of being kidnapped. I didn’t know what else to do. She won’t leave my side.”

Felitïa leaned forward. “Afraid of being kidnapped? Whatever for?”

Meleng was about to tell Felitïa all about what had happened last night, but Quilla spoke before he could. “It’s a scary place, Felitïa. You can’t go anywhere without seeing soldiers from who knows where. And let’s not forget there are Volgs, too. They may be mostly in hiding, but they’re here. I don’t blame her for being scared. I am. I spend every day of my life now scared of being kidnapped.”

Felitïa sat back. “That’s a fair point. I hadn’t thought of that. But she’s been fine so far.”

“It’s a bit more specific than that,” Meleng said and looked back at Sinitïa and Maneshka, who were moving from one painting to another.

“Hey, Meleng!” Sinitïa called to him. “You should look at these! They’re really good!”

“I’ve seen them,” he said, “but yes, they are good.” He turned back to face Felitïa and Quilla.

“She seems to have taken a shine to you, Meleng,” Quilla said.

“Oh, we’re just friends,” Meleng said.

“You sure of that? I’ve noticed the way she is around you. I think she really likes you.”

“Oh, uh, you...you think so?” He looked back at Sinitïa again. She was engrossed in one of the paintings, her head tilted to the side and her body bent so that she was looking at it almost upside down. Was Quilla right? He was bad at recognising these kinds of things. When he looked back, Quilla was smiling broadly and Felitïa looked ready to laugh. He felt like withering away. He didn’t need this.

“Oh, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Quilla said.

Meleng groaned.

“Don’t worry, Meleng,” Felitïa said. “You’ve got it wrong, Quilla. I spent seventy-five days at sea with the two of them, and I’ve never picked up on any attraction between them.”

“Oh thank goodness,” Meleng blurted. “I mean, that is, there’s nothing wrong with Sinitïa.” He felt himself blushing again. “I just, I mean...I’m just not interested in that sort of thing.”

Felitïa smirked. “I know. I don’t think Sinitïa even thinks in those terms. She sees Meleng as someone who doesn’t treat her like dirt like Annai does.”

Quilla sighed. “Fine, spoil my fun. Honestly, Felitïa, I think there are some definite downsides to your abilities.” She laughed.

“Anyway, Meleng,” Felitïa said. “You were about to tell us about Sinitïa’s sudden kidnapping fear.”

Meleng nodded. “There was an incident last night.” As he told them the story of the Ninifin warriors, Sinitïa sat down beside him. Maneshka stood behind Felitïa.

As he neared the end of the tale, three short, elderly men in yellow robes entered the hall.

“Welcome, friends,” Maneshka called out. “Give me one moment, and I will be with you.” To Felitïa, she said, “I will see you later. I have promised your sister a lotion to help with her sunburn, one you might like as well. Perhaps I could show you the village when I go to collect it.”

“I’d like that,” Felitïa said with a smile. She touched Maneshka’s arm.

“Until later then.” Maneshka gave them all a small bow and went over to the three men.

Quilla was looking at Felitïa with a smile.

“What?” Felitïa asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Quilla said, her smile widening.

“Good,” Felitïa said, and turned to Meleng. “We should talk quietly, but you were saying about these Ninifins.”

“They were really scary,” Sinitïa said.

“They openly talked about taking Sinitïa hostage,” Meleng said. “I suppose I was probably included in that, too, though their leader decided it wasn’t necessary and let us go.”

“I suppose we should be grateful to her, then,” Felitïa said to Sinitïa.

“I suppose. She was both scary and nice. Which is weird.” Sinitïa giggled. “She thought Meleng was my slave and was going to free him.”

“Also sounds like you don’t have to worry about her kidnapping you,” Felitïa said.

“Yeah, but the others might.”

“Well if they do, we can go to her and tell her. She’s their leader, right?”

Sinitïa nodded.

“So she’ll tell them to let you go and they’ll have to do it.”

“I suppose.”

“Did she give her name so we know who to look for?” Felitïa asked.

Sinitïa scrunched her nose and mouth in thought.

“It was Nin- something,” Meleng said.

“Nin-Akna,” Sinitïa said. “I’m good with names.”

“There we go. We’ll just talk to Nin-Akna. That said, it’s probably a good idea if you don’t wander outside the village and you stay with...” Felitïa trailed off.

“Stay with who?” Sinitïa asked after a moment. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

Felitïa didn’t answer. She wasn’t so much staring at Sinitïa as staring through her. Meleng had seen her get like this before, just recently.

“Felitïa, are you all right?” Quilla asked.

“Jaguars,” Felitïa blurted—rather loudly.

Meleng glanced over towards the entrance where Maneshka was still talking to the three men. None of them seemed to have noticed.

“What?” Quilla said.

“Nin-Akna,” Felitïa said. “She has a pair of jaguar tattoos that cover her entire body.”

“She has cat tattoos,” Sinitïa said. She looked at Meleng. “Are jaguars cats?” Before he could respond, she looked back at Felitïa. “Because if they are, how did you know? Have you met her?”

Felitïa shook her head.

“Number nine?” Meleng asked.

“Number nine,” Felitïa said.

“Number nine? I don’t understand.” Sinitïa looked at Meleng for an explanation.

“It’s hard to explain,” he said.

“Just means I need to meet her.” Felitïa sighed. “Another one. Just what I need. I can’t even figure out how to get a meeting with Kindanog, and now another one... Wait a moment. I have a reason to see her. Thank you, Sinitïa.”

“You’re welcome,” Sinitïa said and turned to Meleng again. “What did I do?”

Felitïa didn’t give Meleng a chance to reply. “You almost got kidnapped. Now I’m going to make a formal protest on your behalf. Gods, I hope I don’t start an incident. Cerus is trying to prevent one; I don’t want to ruin his efforts. The sooner I get this started, the better, I suppose. Better go make some inquiries. Find out how to do this properly.” She stood up. “Meleng, stay with Sinitïa. Quilla, you can come if you want. I’d appreciate the company, but no pressure.”

“Is it really necessary to see this person?” Quilla asked. “I mean, what will it accomplish? Will it help us find Corvinian?”

“I don’t know for sure. But all these things are connected somehow. The sooner I meet all these people in my head, the better. Coming?”

“I’d rather stay here, if that’s okay. I don’t want to end up in the middle of an incident. Just imagine how Garet might react. Then you’d really have an incident. You don’t want that.”

“Good point,” Felitïa said. “I’ll see you later.”

Felitïa hurried across the room, spoke briefly with Maneshka, then headed out of the library.

“They’ll make a cute couple, don’t you think?” Quilla said after Felitïa was gone.

“Who?” Meleng and Sinitïa asked together. Meleng was actually pretty certain he knew what she was talking about, but he preferred to play ignorant in case he was wrong. It also meant people were less likely to talk about these things around him in future.

Quilla sighed. “Well, I think they’re cute.”

* * * * *

The old woman patted the top of a barrel, then picked up one of several jars from the table beside her. She looked at Felitïa, said something, and gestured at the barrel. Maneshka touched her arm and also gestured to the barrel.

“Oh, I see,” Felitïa muttered and went over to the barrel. It didn’t look very sturdy. She held her breath as she sat on it. She exhaled when it didn’t collapse.

The old woman opened the jar, stuck in two fingers, and scooped out some of the thick lotion within. She came forward and began to apply it to Felitïa’s forehead. It stung and Felitïa flinched. The old woman said something that sounded admonishing and continued to rub the lotion into her forehead. The stinging subsided after a few moments, though every time the woman moved to a new area—Felitïa’s cheeks, chin, neck—the sting returned briefly. Felitïa soon got used to it though.

One thing Felitïa had failed to consider when she agreed to accompany Maneshka on this trip was that, once they were out of the library, they couldn’t actually talk to each other. She was enjoying wandering around the village, but the lack of common language was proving a little awkward. She wished she had time to learn the local language.

Still, it was nice to be away from the library. Studying could be a fulfilling thing, but at the moment, it was frustrating because she wasn’t learning anything. Hours and hours of it, mixed with reports to Cerus called for a break once in a while. A part of her felt guilty with every break—worry that she was somehow letting Corvinian and Quilla down by not spending every moment of every day in deep study—but she also knew that she had to rest once in a while or else she’d exhaust herself and nothing would get done.

Besides, she had time to kill before meeting Cerus again. He had agreed to go with her to the Ninifins to protest their treatment of Sinitïa.

By the time the woman had finished Felitïa’s arms, she was feeling a lot better. Not only had the sting of the lotion faded, but so had the sting of her sunburns. The old woman held up the jar and said something.

“Yes, please,” Felitïa said and took the jar.

The old woman smiled and held out her palm.

Felitïa grimaced and reached for her purse, dumping a few coins into her hand. She didn’t have any local currency and had no idea how much she was being asked for. So she proceeded to show the herbalist the coins in her hand.

The old woman squinted, a hint of exasperation flowing from her. After a moment, the herbalist picked up a couple of coins and held them close to her eyes, turned them back to front. Then she took the remaining coins from Felitïa and pressed another bottle of lotion into Felitïa’s hand.

“Thank you,” Felitïa said. She hadn’t expected the second bottle, though she supposed it was because she had held out more money than she’d needed to. Such were the communication problems.

She placed the jars and her purse in her scrip, and hopped off the barrel. “Where to next?”

Maneshka took her arm and led her along the streets of the village, along the edges of the gardens and along the rows of trees—coconut trees Felitïa had learned—near the rice fields. Everyone seemed to know Maneshka. As they went, people called out to her and Maneshka responded, sometimes stopping to talk. This would then involve Maneshka introducing Felitïa, which would then make Felitïa feel a little awkward because she couldn’t understand what they were saying. One thing she did clue into after the first couple, though, was that Maneshka was not introducing her as a princess, to which she was very grateful.

The heat was unrelenting as usual, and Felitïa wished she could get away with wearing clothes as light as Maneshka’s. But other than that, Felitïa found she was enjoying herself. Even the language difficulties began to feel less awkward and more just a challenge for her to overcome.

As they neared the edge of the village by the path that led back to the quay, Felitïa felt a surge of surprise and a touch of fear from Maneshka. Similar feelings filtered in from other people nearby. Maneshka pointed towards the top of the valley.

Coming over the top of the valley, along the path was...a storm. Felitïa wasn’t sure how else to describe it. Not a storm from the sky, but a a storm that seemed of very contained volume, spread out over the path and moving along it. Swirling clouds of...snow? She was sure it was snow.

There were yells about her and people in the rice fields were rushing back towards the village. Other villagers darted about, trying to round up chickens and goats. Maneshka called out to them. As best Felitïa could tell, Maneshka was trying to call for calm, though Felitïa could definitely feel the nervousness and fear coming from her.

Snow. As the strange storm got closer, there was no doubting it. It was a storm of swirling snow. And within it walked a couple dozen or more winged figures.

“Isyar!” Felitïa said. The storm made sense now, as the local heat would be deadly to Isyar.

Maneshka understood the word and began calling out to the villagers, and Felitïa felt the librarian’s fear abate.

There was an Isyar at each of the two front corners of the approaching the storm, and as the storm got closer, she could see that there was another Isyar at each of the back corners. All four of these Isyar were engaged in what looked like a complex dance—legs, arms, wings all partaking in fluid motions as the Isyar seemed to float across the ground, bouncing and spinning at various intervals. Their movements reminded her of Jorvan’s when he cast a spell, although much more complex. Most remarkable was that all four of these Isyar were moving in perfect unison, every motion copied perfectly by the others.

The remaining Isyar walked in the centre of the storm area. At their front were a row of Isyar wearing slender swords at their sides.

The villagers’ panic had subsided and many were now gathering around Felitïa and Maneshka to watch the Isyar’s approach.

The calm was short-lived, however, broken by gusts of wind and the sound of flapping wings. Armed Volg soldiers flew down and landed on the path between the village and the Isyar. Panic gripped the villagers again, who grabbed their children and rushed for their homes.

Maneshka pulled on Felitïa’s arm and urged her to come away. Felitïa shook her head and squeezed Maneshka’s hand. “No, please wait. I want to see this. I need to know what’s happening.”

Maneshka pulled a little less strongly for a moment, but then sighed and nodded.

A least a dozen Volg warriors had landed and were moving to form lines on either side of the path. The Isyar procession had paused, although the ones at the corners continued in their dance, maintaining the snowstorm.

More Volgs landed, joining in the lines. Then two more Volgs arrived and began walking towards the Isyar. One was Agranim. The other... Oh gods, could it be?

Felitïa would never forget that mixture of black and grey fur, the white beard, and especially those gold horns twisting around.

He was the one who had taken Corvinian, the one who had nearly torn her mind to shreds.

Felitïa found herself shaking, grasping at breath, heart thumping, losing her footing. Maneshka bent over her, putting her arms around her and speaking panicked words.

Felitïa hadn’t thought much about what she would do if—when—she saw the Volg again. Part of her had wanted to believe the next time would go much better. She would just approach him and be able to fight off whatever he did. Now, she could barely stand—and he wasn’t doing anything to her at all. He hadn’t even noticed her.

Or had he?

As he and Agranim approached the Isyar, he turned his head in her direction.

Impo—

It was just a moment and he turned away again, continued towards the Isyar.

He had started to say impossible; she was sure of it. He was surprised. Even at this distance, with Maneshka’s fear drowning most other things out, she’d felt his surprise. It was gone in a flash, but it had been there.

He was surprised she was alive.

Her fear was making the Room uncooperative. The walls were not obeying her the way she wanted them to, so she took a moment to concentrate on some breathing exercises. Get her fear under control, block Maneshka’s. Use his surprise to her advantage. If he was surprised, then she was stronger than he had expected. She had never figured out just what he had done to her mind, but it was clear now that he had intended to kill her. Yet she had survived. There was less reason to fear him now.

As she calmed the shaking in her body, the Room’s walls came under control, and she began to search through the swarm of mental presences—villagers, Volgs, Isyar—looking for his. But there was no sign of him. He must have blocked her somehow. That was why his words and feeling of surprise had vanished so fast.

She dismissed the Room, straightened up, and offered Maneshka a comforting smile. She then focused her vision on the Volg. If telepathy wasn’t going to work, maybe a spell would. The distance might be a problem, but she was certain she could manage it. She curled the fingers on her right hand, used her pinky to push aside the interference of the Volgs between her and him. Just a gentle probe to establish a connection. It wouldn’t do anything, and most people wouldn’t even notice it. However, he wasn’t most people.

He turned his head just a little, before refocusing on the Isyar.

That was all she’d wanted. And all she dared at the moment.

Agranim and Corvinian’s abductor stopped just in front of the chaotic swirl of snow. The armed Isyar parted and four elderly Isyar hobbled forward. The Volgs and Isyar began to talk—and Felitïa wished she could hear what they were saying. Not that she would understand them. She probably wouldn’t, so it was a pointless wish. She continued to watch, however, determined to see this all the way to the end.

After several minutes, sounds came from behind. Both she and Maneshka turned to see Sanalog soldiers rushing through the village streets. They hurried past the two of them and took up positions along the road facing the Volgs. Felitïa felt Maneshka relax somewhat.

Behind the soldiers came Kindanog and Adranaska, who was breathing heavily from exertion. It didn’t stop him from screaming at the Volgs as he approached them. He continued after he reached them, waving his arms about at the Volgs. Whenever he turned to the Isyar, however, he toned his motions down considerably. The three groups continued to talk for several more minutes.

Finally, Agranim turned and yelled out an order. The Volg warriors all turned to face the village, then began to march in the direction of the village and the Nabrinja. At a word from Kindanog, the Sanalog warriors moved with them, keeping their eyes on the Volgs the whole time. Agranim and Corvinian’s abductor followed behind them with Kindanog, and then the Isyar began to move again as well. Adranaska moved to the side of the path to let them past.

As Agranim and Corvinian’s abductor got close, Felitïa took Maneshka’s hand and moved to the side of the path, but not far. She wanted to be close when they passed. She just hoped she wasn’t putting Maneshka in any unnecessary danger. Perhaps she should have let her leave. Why had she pressured her to stay?

Agranim turned to sneer at her has he got close, but the other Volg put a hand on his shoulder and said something to him. Agranim growled and looked straight ahead again.

Hello, Felitïa said to the other Volg.

He didn’t respond.

I know you can hear me, and I want you to know, this isn’t over.

He remained unresponsive, and soon he and Agranim walked out of sight.

Felitïa nearly collapsed once he was gone. She and Maneshka clung to each other for support. “I’m sorry,” Felitïa said. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

They were both hit by a blast of cold air as the Isyar reached them, and snow whipped at their bodies. It was refreshing against the heat at first, but by the time the Isyar had passed, Felitïa was shivering. The snow melted fast in the hot sun, however, and her wet clothes would dry fast as well.

At the very end of it all, Adranaska panted along. Felitïa stopped him as he approached. “Who was the Volg with Agranim?”

Adranaska’s lips twitched. “Prince Castroff. He speak for Volgs here. Volgs call the meeting, yet their king not come. Ill they say. So Prince speak in his place. He is... I do not know word in your language. Bad. Now, excuse me, Highness. I have duties. Everyone here now. Meeting will start soon.”

Felitïa nodded and let him pass. “Thank you.”

Prince.

Given his arrival with Agranim, Felitïa had guessed he was someone important, but she hadn’t expected prince. At least it confirmed that the same Volg behind Quilla’s kidnapping was the one behind Corvinian’s. She needed to find out more about him, what exactly his abilities were, how much of a threat he really was.

She sighed. Yet another task. It seemed like every time she learned something new, it just created a dozen more questions. Oh well. One thing at a time.