Sorela waited for the limping officer—cursing as he went—to leave before struggling against her restraints. She glanced around, wild eyed. Afraid? Why? Leisa wondered. The mage wouldn’t be executed.

Leisa struggled against her chafing bonds too. It was the first time they’d been alone. She eyed the other woman’s restraints. Her hands were purple. Her own wrists didn’t feel the way lady casen’s looked. Maybe she was just numb by now. Of course they would be afraid of the mage, but what if Leisa were to escape and free her?

Fools, she thought, but she knew she wouldn’t escape. “My lady?” Sorela turned to meet her eyes for the first time, though she couldn’t say anything, for the gag in her mouth. “Do something!” Leisa pleaded.

The woman’s eyes drifted to the fur she was on, then went up toward the entry as bootsteps on gravel neared the tent. There must have been at least three men. Leisa was correct. The officer with the limp strode in, pushing the flap aside, followed by a crossbowman and a regal-looking man in full plate armor adorned with a white hawk’s head laid across two spears on black. A lord.

Maybe he wouldn’t have her executed.

“My lord,” the officer said, gesturing to Sorela. “We were lucky. Didn’t know there was a mage about ‘til after we found her face down in the snow.” He glanced at Leisa. “The other is unimportant—a camp follower perhaps.”

Leisa cocked her head, though decided against saying anything.

“She’s not a camp follower, you fool,” the lord said with a frown. “She’s a handmaiden, or possibly an apprentice?” He turned to Leisa. “Tell me, girl, what is your relation to the mage?”

Leisa gave her best answer to keep from the gibbet. “You are correct, my lord,” she lied. “I am the mage’s apprentice.”

He nodded, then turned to the man with the limp. “Ungag the mage, Captain.”

Lady Casen’s gag was removed while the crossbowman trained his weapon between her eyes. Sorela licked her lips.

“I am Lord Walis Birtran.” The man put a hand to his breast plate. “I am the Lord Serafe Commander of this camp.”

Sorela cleared her throat with as much dignity as could be expected. “Lady Sorela Casen, daughter of Lord Morgrath, Mage of the Hall and advisor to High Lord Warfink of Nalandor.”

Lord Birtran smiled. “Quite the title, my lady. And is it true this lovely young woman beside you is also your apprentice?”

Sorela didn’t hesitate, confirming Lord Birtran’s question with a nod of her head.

“Captain Seswal tells me you are raiders.”

Sorela made a face. “How many raiders have you known to be headed by a mage?”

Birtran chuckled. “The captain is of low birth, lady mage, he would not know of such things. What I really want to know is why you travel with two Serafes—oath breakers at that—Lord Falan Nogal and Minor Lord, Serin Dasal. Have they sworn themselves over to Lord Warfink?”

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Leisa’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. They were lords? And oath breakers? If the lady mage was as taken aback as Leisa, she didn’t show it.

“I did not know of their titles, nor that they broke any oaths,” Sorela said, “I only agreed to pay them to accompany us on our quest.”

Birtran’s eyebrows raised. “What quest?”

“We are searching for someone.”

He smiled. “You will have to tell me more than that, my lady—and did you not think it odd that two Serafes would work for gold payment? Surely you knew they were Serafes at least.”

“I knew,” Sorela admitted, “though I did not know they were Nelothan. They spoke with...accents not of this region. And what a man decides to do with his sword is his business. I did not feel the need to ask why.”

If they are lords, Leisa thought, why do they need gold? Surely a lord didn’t need to sell his sword. Lords had plenty of gold—even minor ones. She shook herself from her thoughts.

“Again, lady mage, you avoid telling me who you are after,” Lord Birtran said. “It is in your best interest to tell me the truth. For all that I know, you are both spies!”

“You know full well, sir, that the Hall does not take sides,” Sorela said calmly. “No sides and all sides.”

Birtran nodded amicably as if recalling this forgotten information. “Then why did you attack a Nelothan patrol? Why have you wandered into this country in secret?”

“Upon discovering—“ Sorela began.

Birtran cut her off. “Who are you after?” he shouted.

Sorela kept a calm demeanor, though she said nothing. Was she deciding on how to answer? Would she lie? She told the truth however. “We are searching for Lord Warfink’s son, Jalen Warfink. The last we heard, he was at castle Fellwind near the Blackwood.”

Lord Birtran stroked his chin. “Go on.”

“He has gone missing since the beginning of this war,” Sorela said. “We do not know if he has been killed or if the high lord has taken him hostage. We are here to find out—that is all.”

“If you are so afraid that Lord Warfink’s son has been taken hostage, why have you not made contact with his supposed captors for ransom and release?”

Sorela didn’t answer. Lord Birtran came to the obvious conclusion. “Yes,” he said, “If the boy has indeed not been taken captive, it would be in your best interest to not let his enemies know he’s within their borders.” The conclusion seemed to satisfy him to a degree. “The boy has not been taken captive by any Nelothan, nor is he at Castle Fellwind. I would know.”

Sorela seemed baffled, in mild shock almost. Lord Birtran continued. “Castle Fellwind was among the first strongholds to be raided by the Soles.” He laughed. “It would surprise you to know that while the keep was taken, winged Fellbeasts from the Darkwood took most of the invaders away, along with some of our own, including Lord Nemen.” Then dismissively he added, “Your query is dead. And you Lady Casen, will be taken to the high lord so that he can decide what to do with you.”

Lord Birtran turned to leave the tent, but stopped when Sorela spoke. “And what of my apprentice, Lord?”

Leisa’s heart skipped a beat as he eyed her for a moment, then waved a hand. “She will be hanged with the rest of your company.”

“What?” Leisa shrieked.

“Be quiet, child!” Sorela hissed.

How could she be quiet? She was about to be hanged.

No! They can’t do this!

“Lord Serafe,” Sorela continued. “If you do this, there will be consequences. Master Mages Kolan and Fenwar are currently in your capital negotiating with your superiors. As soon as I see them—“

Lord Birtran chuckled. “The summit is over, lady mage. King Dalthan has left, and your master mages have been sent back to the Hall.” He smiled.

“Lord Birtran, you cannot do this! It is against custom. Mages and—“

“This is war, lady mage,” he said sternly. “And custom is... well, only custom.” He smiled again, then his face became hard. “Consequences indeed!” He left the tent.

“I will not let this happen, Leisa, I swear it! Child... Look at me!” Leisa obeyed with bleary eyes. “Trust me, I will not—“

Sorela was cut off as the captain gagged her, then told the soldier with the crossbow to keep a careful eye on them. “Wouldn’t want them to escape before justice is served,” he said, limping out of the tent.