"Or…" He drew his rapier with a flourish. "Could it be you have come to ask for the aid I can offer?"

"We need none of your thug rangers, Greyt," Unddreth spat. His animosity toward the Lord Singer was matched only by his contempt for Greyt's servants-as Greyt well knew. "Undisciplined scum, all of them. Especially Meris the bastard."

"I can't argue," the Lord Singer laughed, unsurprised. "It's very true."

Nor was he surprised that Unddreth had spoken so crassly. Unddreth had always been free with his tongue-it came from being raised a commoner. Greyt waved the captain away and sheathed his sword.

Blaming the Black Blood was a ruse-for all Greyt knew, the bastard werebadger and his kin were all prowling Malar's infernal forests in the Abyss, or wherever Malar's forests were. He cared little for theology.

After a moment, Greyt looked back and saw that Unddreth had not moved.

"You're still here," he said.

"I am." Unddreth, not prone to fidgeting, gazed at him stonily.

"There is more?" Greyt asked.

"Speaker Stonar left the city in your hands," Unddreth said. "Thus, when an event transpires that threatens the welfare of the city, it is your responsibility to deal with it, is it not?"

"And I have," Greyt said, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. "I want you and your soldiers to find this attacker and kill him. Or her. Or it. Just do what you are paid to do."

Dim-witted Unddreth. Greyt scowled. Are you as stupid as you look?

"We must inform Speaker Stonar of the event," Unddreth said.

Not stupid then, Greyt decided. He should have foreseen the suggestion.

He didn't miss a beat, though. "So send to the druids to communicate with their magic," he said dismissively. "They may not be under our control, but they will aid us."

"I already have," Unddreth said. "Something blocks their magic, some barrier they cannot pierce."

"Probably another of their foolish excuses-a damned equinox or something," Greyt said quickly. It was plausible, after all. Quaervarr was a frontier town in every sense: unless matters were really out of hand, the people preferred to settle their own problems, without help from the High Lady or her armies of mages. The druids would expect no less from the Watch. "Or it's a sacred time for their gods, or perhaps the guild of Silverymoon has better things to do than listen to our minor complaints-"

"So we must send a courier," Unddreth said.

"I'm sure that's not necessary," Greyt said with a shrug as if he meant to forget the whole thing. "As you said, it is only one man. Some independent town we would be if we ran to Silverymoon with our troubles every time a lunatic crops up. How much trouble can one man be? Take a few of your best soldiers and scour the Moonwood for him."

Unddreth hesitated, but finally nodded. "As you command, Lord Singer," he said curtly. Turning on his heel, the genasi strode out of the ballroom.

Greyt watched his retreating form for a long moment, tracing with his eyes the image of the white stag emblazoned upon the huge shield Unddreth wore on his back.

"As I command," he repeated to himself with a grin. He liked the sound of that.

Wrapped in steel, Arya was approaching the front doors of her uncle's manor when they flew open and the hulking Unddreth stamped out. His face was even harder than usual. She dropped into a light bow.

"Well met, Captain Unddreth," she said.

The genasi's frown turned to a soft smile when he saw her, and Arya was acutely aware of her appearance. Her silver armor gleamed and her auburn hair burned in the soft light. Shining on her breast, the badge of the Knights in Silver-a clasp with the sigil of Silverymoon-secured a deep blue cloak around her shoulders. Arya knew Unddreth admired her simple elegance, and embarrassed warmth blossomed in her cheeks.

"Good morning to you, Lady Venkyr," Unddreth said. He gestured to the sword belted at her hip. "Going about armed, are you?"

She smiled shakily. "One can never be too careful," she said in reply.

"True." He patted the warhammer at his own belt. "Very true."

His face was still stony. Something about his voice, though, told Arya that he was thinking about the audience with Greyt he had just left. He perked up, though, when he caught her staring.

"Thank you for your assistance last night," he said. "I hope it is clear that any momentary hesitation or doubts about your abilities-or loyalties-have been put to rest."

"It is, Captain," Arya said. "I serve the Silver Marches, so I serve Quaervarr as well."

Unddreth bowed his head then plodded on his way.

Arya nodded, smiling as he went. She had read the characters of many people in her time with the Knights in Silver, and she knew that there went a just and noble soldier.

As Unddreth walked farther away, though, Arya looked back to Greyt's doors and her smile vanished. She turned smartly on her heel and headed to the portal, where she rapped the gold wolf knocker. She pulled the cloak tighter around her armored body, trying vainly to warm the cold steel strapped around her limbs. Armor was impractical in this cold, but she wanted to be in full uniform when she confronted her uncle once more.

Claudir arrived in a moment to take her inside. The steward looked at her with the same uninterested, detached look he always had. He led her through Greyt's spacious manor without paying attention to her. Once Claudir had ushered Arya into Greyt's study, he sniffed, as though to assure her that Greyt would arrive shortly, and left without a word.

"Took you long enough," came an angry, nigh-angelic voice, startling her.

In the center of the room, a beautiful woman in a dark gown was standing, facing away from her. When she turned and saw Arya, she started and assumed a confused expression.

"I… I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else," the lady said. Golden curls fell around a beautiful, oval face. Her ears were slightly pointed. "I am tired." She moved to leave.

"Lady Lyetha," Arya said finally. She dropped into a bow. "I'm sorry; I did not recognize you for a moment. I am Arya Venkyr, stepdaughter of your Lord Husband's sister."

Lyetha paused, looking at Arya again with fresh eyes. Her orbs were sparkling sapphires, and something about their intensity made Arya's breath catch. Her serenity brooked absolutely no display of emotion. This was a noblewoman if Arya had ever seen one, and the knight was a personal friend of Alustriel herself.

"No need for me to worry, then," she said dismissively. Lyetha swept out of the room, leaving a confused Arya in her wake, and that was that. Lyetha was gone.

Arya would never speak with her again.

Time passed.

Eventually, the lady knight, bored, looked around for something to distract herself. While she waited, Arya scanned the titles of different tomes with disinterest. Lord Greyt kept epics, poems, treatises, and battle records. Arya recognized names, but that's where the interest ended. Though she could read and write Chondathan, Iluskan, and even some Damaran, thanks to schooling at her father's house, Arya had never fancied herself a scholar. Books were for sages, the nobility, and wizards, not knights. Still, there was nothing else to do in the small study, so she browsed the shelves and desk.

After some time, Arya noticed a small amulet on the desk. It was gold, in the shape of a five-pointed leaf cunningly cut and delicately formed. Tiny Elvish runes were etched on the back.

Arya wished she had paid more attention during Elvish lessons, but she could make it out. "It is easier to destroy than to create," she read out loud. She pursed her lips in thought.