Epilogue
High Bashti
Winter 25
Torisen Blacklord didn’t communicate well by letter. When he was worried, he tended not to write at all. The last time this had happened, he had been very sick and had thought that he was dying. While not anticipating that again, Jame had hoped to find a missive waiting for her when she returned from Karkinaroth. However, there was none. She sat in her quarters for some time thinking about this, missing what was no doubt a lively breakfast as the garrison discussed the night’s events.
At last, she sent word down to the mess hall.
“I think that we’ve done all we can here, for good or for ill,” she told Damson when the former cadet arrived.
Damson frowned. She often did when presented with a question that seemed to involve morality. “Why do you say ‘for ill’?”
“By force of habit, mostly. Wherever I am, things tend to happen. Not that I’m sorry Mordaunt is dead, or that Pensa is the new queen, or that the General perseveres.”
Thinking of Suwaeton reminded her how easily he had seemed to dismiss Gerridon from Rathillien. Did it really work that way? If so, coming to the Central Lands had been worthwhile for that alone. If not, well, time would tell.
Also, Harn had come to grips with his past.
Also, the Knorth garrison was to be paid and, by extension, Gothregor, to keep it over the winter.
Also, the Knorth ladies had been avenged, at least as far as the Shadow Guild was concerned. As to whom had paid the Guild’s hire, ah, that was another matter.
And she had learned that an internal threat, the lords of her own people, was more dangerous to the Kencyrath than any lost clause in a Central Lands’ contract.
What had the cadet officers sung at the muster, so long ago?
“New foes, new lands, now do we seek,
Our lords to please, in worth our trust.
But doubt stands forth among our ranks.
Contrarywise, who stands by us?”
Now, something was wrong in the River Land.
“It’s time,” she said, “that we went home.”
The Beginning of the End