As she rode back into camp, Adjaash blinked.

Her sight had almost completely returned, but there was still a shadowy imprint of light floating at the center of her vision – shaped loosely like a bird with sprawling wings.

Ashanji trotted alongside the river. Adjaash felt her steps. Behind them, a half-dozen Midan riders followed. It was still night, but as they ventured among the tents again, soldiers and spouses and children remained and stirred. The crowd had calmed, and their vision too had returned, but there was still an uneasy whir of whispers as Adjaash rode by with her search party.

As she rode past the post line at the far end of camp, she glanced at the post that had once held Heror’s horse, Shaadur, next to hers. The post was empty, and its rope cast aside on the ground. She let out a shallow breath, then turned her eyes ahead.

Once the riders were far enough inside the camp, they made their way south, toward the tall tent.

Inside the tent, Raldu lingered at the council table. At the center of the table, a keatuu candle sat inside a small glass cup. He stared at the keatuu flame with intense violet eyes, leaning forward in his chair. For a moment, he simply observed its dance. And then, he focused. He twitched his eyes to the left, and the candle flame went left. He twitched his eyes to the right, and the candle flame went right. He hardened his face, and the flame warped and scrunched until it imploded and was gone, leaving shadow in its wake.

Raldu frowned – unkempt strands of silver-gold hair hanging over his face – but it wasn’t long before he heard riders dismounting outside the tent. He placed three fingers on the extinguished candle wick, and when he pulled them back, a new keatuu flame was born, and golden light returned to the tent.

The tent flap peeled back, and Shaail stepped into the room of canvas, a reddened bandage wrapped around shallow flesh wounds across his torso. As he held the flap, Adjaash entered the tent, along with another Midan rider, bows slung over their shoulders. They walked and then halted at the center of the tent, across the council table from Raldu. The old man rose to his feet, and then eyed each of them for a moment, his brow creased. Then he turned to Adjaash.

“You didn’t find him?” he assumed.

Adjaash shook her head.

The answer did not surprise Raldu, and still, it frustrated him. He frowned, and his eyelids sank, and he paced to the west end of the table. As he walked, Shaail stepped forward from the tent flap.

“I told you this would happen,” the thin djauul lamented. “I told you not to trust him. If you had only listened–”

“Quiet,” Raldu said firmly, raising a hand.

Shaail stopped, and at Raldu’s intense stare, he stepped back again. Raldu looked him down for a moment longer, and then he turned to the two riders. He glanced between Adjaash and the other.

“As long as the Sword exists, it remains a threat to our plans,” he began. “But at least we know where it is. This does not change our plans on the war front. Tomorrow, we will send the full war party to the south. I will go with them. We should be able to reach the border in a few days’ time. Paru.”

Now the Midan rider named Paru stepped forward.

“Leave before the war party with the rest of the Tekhal riders,” Raldu told him. “Along the way, gather the riders at Soorona and Xaktil. Once you reach the border, find Humsa. And then your Tekhal riders will be the ones to lead the next phase of our assault. Do not wait for our war party.”

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“Pardon me, Raldu…” Shaail interjected. “But wouldn’t it be smarter for the Tekhal to wait for the rest of the war party, and attack with stronger numbers?”

“Our strength at the border is strength enough already,” Raldu countered. “And we can always count on the incompetence of the Kcirun and his generals to make our odds safer. We knew this when they stormed the pass. Now that we control the breach, we control the situation. They won’t be ready for the full strength of our riders. We’ll get them off their feet and on the run, and then the full war party will sweep the line and push them south. Once the line is lost and morale shatters, we’ll be able to take Cephragon, Ellindal, and the bay with little resistance, I imagine.”

“But surely, we’ll come face to face with the rest of the Ardysan force,” Shaail reminded him. “As unready for battle as Ardys as a whole may be in this Eoh, the Kci Talon is still a great threat.”

“By the time we see them, it will already be over,” Raldu theorized. “We don’t need to eradicate the Ardysan force. We only need to chip away at the Kingdom until the Kcirun sees more benefit from joining us. He is fickle, and we will be able to sway him toward the choice of self-preservation. And then he will surrender his armies, his navy, and his territory. And with the bay under our joint control, the Kingdoms of Charondor and Ghiovan will be vulnerable. This is the first step.”

Raldu turned back to Paru.

“Leave at dawn,” he told him.

“Aktaku,” Paru said with a nod and a bow, before turning and leaving.

Now only Adjaash remained, and Raldu turned to face her. She took a deep breath, feeling the stare of his sharp, unblinking eyes. For a moment, it was quiet, and Adjaash cleared her throat quietly.

“What would you like me to do?” she asked, breaking the silence.

Raldu’s expression didn’t change. He stood at the edge of the table, and then he paced back to the center and leaned forward, letting his hands rest on the wood, as the keatuu candle danced not far in front of him.

“If I send you to find Heror and the Sword…” Raldu said to Adjaash. “… can I trust you to do what is necessary?”

Adjaash’s mind went back to the steppe. The river. Riding with Heror in the olive grass. Laughing on the edge of the water. Feeling his kiss and his touch…

But then she whisked these thoughts away and gave Raldu a shaky nod. Raldu nodded back, but she could tell from his expression that he wasn’t convinced.

“I’m glad I can trust you,” Raldu said, his tone lowering. “I’d hate for you to fall short of your goal. Do you have enough yet?”

Adjaash remained silent. Raldu stared her down.

“How much does a boat… and a crew of sailors and sellswords… and a month’s worth of supplies cost, at least?” Raldu wondered. “How long will you have to search to find them all? It will be an expensive venture, indeed.”

Silently, Adjaash fumed. She rolled her wrist. Her brand burned again.

“How much more do you need?” Raldu inquired, feigning curiosity.

Adjaash clenched her jaw and pursed her lips. She let out a smothered sigh, and then gave another nod – this one stronger, more resolute.

“I will find him,” she replied. “I will bring the Sword back.”

Raldu eyed her again. And then he nodded.

“You find the Sword…” he told her. “… and I will cover whatever the cost is for you to return home. All of it.”

Now Adjaash’s fierce look faded, and her expression turned to surprise. And visions of windswept ocean waves and towering red arches and lush jungles and woodlands flashed in front of her. Raldu locked eyes with the girl for a moment longer, and then he gestured to the tent flap.

“Leave at dawn,” he ordered.

Adjaash nodded, and it was only when she turned around that she let uncertainty creep onto her face. She left, leaving Shaail alone with Raldu once again. Raldu now glanced at the djauul, and Shaail stepped toward the council table.

“Do not forget,” Shaail warned, “what Sim requires of us.”

And now he too left, leaving Raldu alone in silence by the table. Raldu stood idle for a moment, and then he sat down. His eyes fell on the smokeless keatuu candle. He shaped and turned it with a stare.

Left. Right.

And then with a blink, he snuffed it out.

End of Book One