“It’s been talked about,” the guard said, shrugging. He wasn’t young, nor did he seem to care. Another old man like Harden, Jonik thought. A man who doesn’t care if he lives or dies. “We’ll put up a fight if they do, but most dragons are frightened of the statues. They take one look at them and go flapping the other way. Only the boldest get close.” He saw the dog for the first time. “I like your hound. He got a name?”

“Not yet. And he isn’t mine.”

“Oh? Seems to like you well enough.”

“He’s going to stay here in the fort. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“Ah. Some good news for once.” The man looked at him. “That the dog’s staying, that is. Not that you’re leaving.”

“I knew what you meant.” Jonik drew a breath, pulling rain-scented air into his lungs. The rain had become a deluge. He was sick of it. The whole kingdom will be drowned soon enough. “Have you heard anything about Janilah Lukar?”

The question took the old soldier off-guard. He peered at him. “Why? You looking for him, are you?”

Yes, he might have said. “Just interested,” he said instead.

“Well, he’s an interesting man, there’s no doubt. Most think he passed through here a while back. They say he used the Mistblade to go unseen. One of the scullery maids insists she saw him walk right through her kitchen. Like a blue ghost, she said.”

“Is she here? I’d like to talk with her.”

“I wouldn’t waste your time. Woman’s always been an odd one, fond of telling tall tales. There was talk of a blue ghost in Ilithor a while ago, we heard. Guessing she heard it too and just wanted some attention.”

Jonik nodded. He wouldn’t get much from the woman anyway, even if she was telling the truth. “We were told that Borrus Kanabar came here. Do you remember who he was with?”

“Bunch of people. Beast of Blackshaw, his cousin Sir Torvyn. Torvyn ‘The Returned’ they’re calling him about these parts now. Was missing for two decades until recently.” He frowned. “Who else? Ah, course. The exiled lord, Manfrey. Some more Blackshaw men, and a few others as well. Regular folk, they seemed, not warriors. Some sellswords too. Their leader had skin dark as jet. Wore shiny armour under their cloaks. Caused a bit of a stir, that lot.”

Same as in Blackhearth, Jonik thought. Sansullio and his Sunshine swords had not been welcomed by the soldiers there. “Was there any violence?”

“Not that I saw. They were all under the command of Lord Borrus, so who were we to argue? They didn’t stay long enough either. Just went straight through and down the road while the Barrel and Sir Torvyn came to talk with Commander Ghent. All the rest just kept on going.”

“They didn’t stay the night?”

The soldier gave a shake of the head. “Was early when they came, lots of riding time still ahead. Continued right on toward Eastwatch. May have stayed there.”

That sounded likely. Eastwatch was on the way to the Rustriver Road, and the fort was a Kanabar seat. It would make a natural stop-off if they were to continue south.

The soldier was looking out over the fortress walls. From here, the stream of refugees was visible, fighting through the winds and rains as they continued to meander up from the south. “Poor bastards. Having to travel in this weather. Never seen rains like it.”

There have never been rains like it, Jonik thought. Not here. Not this time of year. He could see Gerrin out there, among the crowds, talking with an old couple. They looked sad and grey, their cloaks soaked through, and had a sad grey ox with them, pulling a little cart. “How many are you going to let through?”

“As many as the Tukorans will take. It’s safer up there, in the north. We’ve been gathering supplies to send with them too, food and such. Wouldn’t want it said that we’re foisting all our own people onto them Tukorans without doing our part to help.”

Jonik was glad to hear that. “Do you know which room Sir Lenard was taken to?”

The old soldier turned. “Take the spiral stair to the right. You’ll find him on the third floor, second door along the hall, overlooking the yard. Nice room, that one. There’s a small balcony too.” He pointed it out, right above them.

“My thanks.” Jonik dipped his head and stepped away, moving up the corkscrew stair until he reached Sir Lenard’s door. He found it ajar, knocking his knuckles on the wood. The fort doctor was inside, performing his inspections, with a nurse to aid him. Jonik entered. “How is he doing?”

The doctor looked over. He was a young man, fresh-faced and clean-shaven, dressed in robes that hung loose of his slim physique. The nurse was old and frumpy. “You’re the man who brought him here?”

“I am. With my companions.” Jonik stepped inside and shut the door. “Will he live?”

“He should, thanks to you.” The doctor gestured to the patient. “Who applied these stitches?”

Jonik moved closer. The bandaging had been removed from Sir Lenard’s chest, exposing the three deep cleaves that slashed across his upper body. When they had found him in that filthy bed, they had given him water first, then made sure he was clean. The wounds had started to fester, but they’d managed to wash him, apply drakeshell powder to hasten the healing, and give him some roseweed for the pain. They’d gotten both of those from Lord Morwood. After that, there was nothing they could do but find some fresh bandages, wrap him back up, and hasten him here to the border.

As to those stitches… “We’re not certain,” he said. “We found him like that.” His guess would be Sansullio, though. The Sunshine Sword captain was as skilled with the needle as he was with the blade, Jonik knew.

“Whoever it was did a fine job,” the doctor remarked. “That said, I have had to cut away some of the flesh where it has begun to putrefy. He will scar badly, but with proper care and attention, he should survive. Do you intend on staying long?”

“We’ll be leaving at dawn.”

“Ah. Well, with luck he will awaken to thank you before then. I take it he hasn’t been particularly conversational on the road?”

“Not especially.”

“Blood fever will do that.” The doctor smiled. “It was a grimbear, I’m told.”

Jonik nodded. “We got that much from him.” A fearsome beast, tackled by another. The way Sir Lenard mumbled of it, the Beast of Blackshaw had come rushing from the woods to wrestle the grimbear to the ground, killing it with his bare hands. In all truth it would not surprise Jonik if that was the case. Mooton Blackshaw was a brutally large man, and with godsteel to grasp would have the strength to match the beast.

“Then he is doubly lucky to be alive,” the doctor said, with another smile. “There aren’t many men who have survived a grimbear attack. After everything he’s been through, he deserves a break.”

“You know about the pits, then?”

“Oh yes, of course. A famous tale.”

Jonik didn’t want to get into it. He did not know if this doctor knew who he was, and he didn’t want to know. “I’ll leave you to it.” He turned to step away.

“No, you needn’t leave. I only need to apply these bandages, then you can sit with him. It won’t take long.”

Jonik thought it a better idea than returning to drink with Harden. And if Sir Lenard was to awaken, it would be nice for him to see a friendly face, he supposed. And there’s still so much I want to know, he thought. He wanted to hear of their travels since leaving the Shadowfort. Which route they’d taken, who they’d run into, whether they’d fought dragons or other creatures along the way. He had hoped to hear all of that as soon as he set eye on Sir Lenard in the inn, but alas he’d been in no state to talk.

“I’ll be on the balcony, then. Call me when you’re done.”

Jonik stepped outside to let the doctor do his work, the nurse bustling about with her ointments and salves. The view would usually be good from up here, Jonik imagined, a ranging view toward the south, though he could see little through the mists and squalls. Only the shadow of the people, drifting up the road in their ones and twos and little groups, pulling carts and driving wagons, sometimes sitting a horse. If Gerrin was out there still, Jonik couldn’t see him. Come back with good news, he thought. Come back and tell me that my grandfather has gone to battle. That he’s there with all the others, and I’ll not have to make that choice.

The doctor was a quick worker. After a few short minutes Jonik heard a voice behind him. “It’s done, my lord. You may sit with him now.”

Jonik stepped back inside, thanking him as the doctor bowed and left, the dowdy nurse as well. When the door was closed Jonik settled onto a chair beside Lenard Borrington’s bedside. The wine was moving through his blood, slowing his thoughts, making him drowsy. There was a fire here too, crackling softly, and the rain was washing down outside. It made for a peaceful setting. Before he knew it, he was closing his eyes…opening them again…closing them once more and drifting off…

Then suddenly Gerrin was there.

Jonik sat up with a start. It had darkened considerably outside, and the rain had weakened, falling in a light drizzle. The fire had burned down to its embers, a few thin tendrils of smoke coiling upward. There were some wet footprints from the open door, staining the stone, and Gerrin was standing on a rug, soaking wet and dripping.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jonik blinked, clearing his throat. He felt exhausted. Sir Lenard was snoring softly. I must have been more tired than I realised. “So, how did it go out there?” His voice was a little heavy. “Did you…find out something about my grandfather?”

The old Emerald Guard had a grave look on his face. “I found someone,” he said.