"But will it spread, Colonel?" the younger man asked the elder.
Both were dressed as Stravinan border guards in crestless white tabards over padded armor. They wore fur-lined capes, vambraces, and metal-scaled gloves, as well as plain polished armor for their shoulders and lower legs. Thin prongs of gold sprouted a finger's length above the noseguards of their fur-trimmed helmets-one for the younger and three for the colonel. The only other distinguishing mark was the elder's blue sash running from his left shoulder across his thick torso. His gray chin-beard was too long to be stylish. The taller and younger one's sandy-blond hair hung long across his shoulders out the bottom of his helmet.
"Unlikely," replied the colonel. "They've been in civil unrest for a century or more. They're no threat to any beyond their borders, unless they cease squabbling and unify… and that's unlikely."
"If war spreads from there," said the younger, with a disgusted shake of his head, "someone else can attend it. Stravina has stood long enough against the Warlands' disorder. Let Belaski face the south, as we've borne enough vigilance for them up here."
"This is what I tried to tell you when I arrived," Wynn said. "Before I was interrupted."
Leesil turned back to her, at a loss to understand the conversation between the two officers.
"War," Wynn explained. Her glance at Magiere was quick and nervous. "Civil war has erupted in Droevinka."
Magiere's expression flattened.
She turned south, as if her gaze could cut through the city and reach all the way to a small village left far behind.
"Aunt Bieja…" Magiere whispered. "Leesil, I know I promised you, but we have to get to my aunt-"
"We cannot," Wynn cut in. "It would take a moon or more to reach Droevinka again, let alone get to Chemestuk amid…"
The sages words faded at Magiere's hardened expression. Leesil slipped one shoulder into Magiere's way.
"What's happened?" he asked.
Wynn shook her head. "I overheard but a little while bartering with a wagon master from Vudran, Stravina's capital. The Sclaven allied with several minor houses and put the Droevinkan capital to siege. Another major house may have joined them. Rumors say they may succeed in casting out the Antes and their reigning Grand Prince." Her next words were slow in coming. "It started only days after we fled from Ubad's forest. We stayed so far from settlements that we missed any word of what was happening. News travels too slowly to know for certain all that has occurred."
Leesil didn't see how their own actions or stealthy flight connected to the outbreak of civil war, but the timing disturbed him. When he said as much, Magiere's panic increased.
"I have to go back," she insisted.
"Wynn is right," Leesil argued. "It won't help. And I'd wager your aunt is already long gone."
Magiere's puzzlement was matched by Wynn's, and Leesil touched Magiere's arm as he confessed.
"The morning we left Chemestuk, I gave Bieja a letter of introduction to Karlin and Caleb back in Muska, with enough coin to get her there. I told her there's a home for her at the Sea Lion tavern with us, though right off she took it as an insult and-"
"Why haven't you told me… in all this time?" Magiere asked, and her tone was disturbingly quiet.
Leesil barely turned his cringe into a shrug, wishing her ire were still aimed at Wynn. "I didn't know if it would lead to anything. The women of your blood are more rigid than a dead deity. But Bieja's cunning. I think she'd follow my advice in the face of what's happening."
"He is correct, Magiere," Wynn added. "Your aunt could well be in Muska by now, or reach there long before you returned to Chemestuk. There is nothing we can do, and your turning back within reach of Ubad's people will not help her."
"And what if they go looking for her," Magiere replied, "as a way to find me? Ubad was there at my birth, and if he-"
Chap rumbled so deeply that they all turned their attention downward. His gaze locked only upon Magiere, and she froze for a moment, then flinched. Leesil suppressed an urge to swipe at the dog.
"You stay out of her head as well!"
"No, it's all right." Magiere shivered briefly and swallowed hard. "He's reminding me… of the clearing near Apudalsat. Ubad probably had my village watched for years and gave up on it long ago. When he learned that I was heading toward him, it's unlikely he'd have told anyone to watch the village again… before he died."
She'd told Leesil what happened in the clearing, from Chap's frenzied slaughter of the necromancer to the massive specter of black coils circling in the forest. In Leesil's own imagining, it was disturbing in many ways how vicious and terrified that apparition had made Chap. In turn, fear for Magiere had ridden Leesil ever since.
Magiere shot him a narrow side glance, and Leesil cringed again.
"I'd appreciate it," she began softly, tone sharpening with each word, "if you would stop keeping these little arrangements to yourself!"
Before Leesil fumbled out another excuse, a bellowing tone carried through the air from behind him. A border guard atop the stone wall to the gate's east side blew two more times upon a curved ashen horn. Beside the man stood several comrades and two figures in pale blue tabards over dark wool robes with full cowls. One cowled figure pointed over the wall to the north.
People nearby drifted toward the gate, and several guards politely urged them to stay back. Leesil pressed forward, his companions close behind him. He saw nothing but the still landscape across the border stream.
"What's happening?" he called to the two Stravinan officers.
The elder colonel ignored him, eyes fixed upon the distant tree line as he uttered low commands to his men. The younger officer looked Leesil over, perhaps appraising him as a stranger. Leesil knew his tan skin and amber eyes were out of place, though his raised hood hid his oblong ears and most of his hair.
"More refugees on their way," the young captain replied. "The Sluzhobnek Sutzits brought word last evening."
Wynn tugged on Leesil's cloak. "I do not understand. Why did he call those robed people 'menials'?"
Belaskian was the most common language, even in Stravina, where its own tongue was used only in remote backlands or by old-blood nobles who thought such things mattered. As much as Wynn had learned the tongue surprisingly well, there were still nuances she didn't catch.
"Not menials," Magiere muttered. "Sutzit-minister or servant."
"The Servants of Compassion," Leesil added with disdain. "Priests."
To Leesil, religion was somewhere between annoying and tyrannical. It was little more than politics shrouded in the trappings of faith and justified by doctrine surrounding a touted deity or patron saint. These "Servants" were the least offensive Leesil knew of, though he couldn't remember their patron's name. Respected healers, they followed the teachings of a long-dead wanderer from a time when only scant settlements across the land marked where future countries would be born. Leesil avoided religious minions and, at the moment, had less tolerance than usual for sermons. He looked back through the open gate, and a flicker of movement near the distant tree line caught his attention.
A figure surged across the flat grass field-it was a woman in drab peasant garb. Two smaller forms followed. Judging by their height and the way they shadowed the woman, they were children in her charge. A pair of medium-size figures came next, a boy and girl, who rushed ahead of the others.
The younger officer took a step toward the gate's opening. His colonel clamped a hand on the man's shoulder and pulled him back.
"You will not breach the border, Captain!"
The tall captain jerked away. "Sir… I can't stand by and watch this again."