Gaelin thought for a time, looking out over the white blanket of fog. “Not as well as I might like,” he said.

“Don’t lie to me, Gaelin.” Erin started to turn away, straightening up and pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “I know what happened between you and Seriene.”

He felt as if he’d been struck. “You do?”

“I’m not stupid. The way you’ve been acting, the way she looks at you… it’s not hard to figure it out.” Erin laughed bitterly. “I wish the two of you well.”

“I don’t think I love her, Erin.”

“What’s that matter? She’s a beautiful woman from a family as noble as your own. And you must have feelings for her, if…”

Gaelin looked away, watching the mists rising from the lake. The cold and damp had chilled him to the bone, but the dark ache in the center of his chest held him transfixed, unwilling to leave and unable to face Erin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let things happen the way they did.”

“Why apologize? You don’t owe me your faithfulness.”

Erin tried to maintain her sarcasm, but her voice broke. “I have no claim on you.”

“Erin” he said softly. “I may have been Seriene’s lover, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Her head dropped as she hugged herself against the cold stone, her hair spilling down around her face. Her voice a whisper, she said, “Gaelin, don’t. Please. It’s not in my heart to stop you.” She straightened and turned away.

“Wait, Erin. Please don’t go yet.” He reached out and caught her arm gently. Erin let him turn her back to face him, looking past him, refusing to meet his eyes. He searched for something to say, but nothing came to mind as he held her, looking into her face. Her self-assurance was gone, stripped away, and she was trembling like a vulnerable child. “You told me that I could have your counsel when I needed it. I don’t know what to do. I know what I should do – my duty – and I know what I think is right – my heart, my conscience – but they’re not the same.”

Erin glanced up, and a flicker of a smile showed itself on her face. “You’re becoming familiar with that dilemma, aren’t you?”

“I’m twice caught in it,” he answered. “Do I do my duty to Mhoried, marrying Seriene and refusing to allow Bannier to threaten me with Ilwyn’s life? Or do I do what’s in my heart, making sure that Ilwyn is safe?” He stepped closer, looking into her eyes. “And falling in love with you?”

“Gaelin, please. Don’t say that.” She moved away, circling the ruined parapets, looking down at the wet stone of the turret.

Her hair fell around her face.

“It’s in my heart, Erin.”

She drew back another step and sighed, glancing up to meet his eyes. “Listen to your heart, Gaelin,” she whispered.

“Somehow it will work out.” She slipped past him and disappeared into the shadows, like a wisp of silver moonlight.

Bannier caught up to the Ghoeran army at dawn, riding a coal-black gelding he’d appropriated from Shieldhaven’s stables.

The army was camped in a high valley, surrounded by dark peaks and fells, and in the gray distance Bannier could make out the distinctive gap of Marnevale, a day’s march ahead. Cantering past endless rings of earthworks and palisades, manned by vigilant sentries, he continued without challenge into the camp itself. It was a cool, foggy morning, and the acrid smoke of cooking fires stung his nose as the camp around him began to stir.

Near the center of the camp, he spied the wolf standard of Noered Tuorel. Bannier smiled grimly; this should be an entertaining encounter. After he had slipped out of Shieldhaven with Ilwyn, Tuorel’s men had literally razed his tower, pulling it down stone by stone. He’d found armed guards standing watch over the ruins – the baron’s men must have set off the traps and wards with which he guarded his tower.

Fortunately, his shadow portal couldn’t be damaged by petty vandalism, but many other possessions of value to him had not fared so well.

He cantered up to a large red pavilion surrounded by guards, and dismounted. A footman took the reins from his hand and led the horse away, while he briefly indulged in a stretch. “Tell Baron Tuorel that I have returned,” he said. The officer glared at him but turned to perform his duties. A few moments later, he emerged from the tent.

“The baron will see you now,” he said.

Bannier noted the man’s abrupt manner and made a point of remembering his face, in the event the captain crossed his path again. “Very well.” The officer led him into the command tent, ducking beneath the outer flap.

“Well, well,” Tuorel said. “You’ve some nerve to show up on my doorstep, Bannier.”

Four of the elite Iron Guards stood by the door, their swords bared; the nearest were already within striking range, but they made no move to attack. Across the tent from him stood Tuorel, dressed in his striking wolf-emblazoned armor.

Bannier noticed a pair of small holes in the tent’s far wall.

With his preternatural senses, he detected a pair of sharpshooters training their crossbows on him from their concealed positions. More importantly, a slight woman in the robes of a Khinasi mage stood beside Tuorel. Although the spell would be invisible to the untrained eyes of normal men, Bannier noticed a subtle shield of some kind surrounding her.

For the moment, Bannier ignored Tuorel’s assassins and his hired mage. “My lord baron,” he said, bowing. “While our relations have not been cordial lately, I believe we still share a common cause.”

Tuorel regarded him suspiciously. “And what do you want me to do for you this time?”

“Nothing you wouldn’t do for yourself, baron. You march on Caer Winoene, the seat of Gaelin’s government in exile. I wish to see the renegade Mhor’s power destroyed as well, and I offer you my services toward this end.”

Tuorel frowned. “As you can see, Bannier, I have already retained the services of another wizard. I didn’t believe we shared any more common purposes.”

“I can assure your victory, my lord.”

“Just as you assured my conquest of Mhoried?”

Bannier shrugged. “I delivered Shieldhaven into your hands, as I promised. You haven’t even bothered to attempt the test of the Oak. I can’t understand why you’re surprised that the Mhoriens choose to dispute your righteous rule.”

“You know the Red Oak would never have acknowledged me, not with the blooded heir to the Mhor alive and at liberty.

I would have made a fool of myself if I’d tried! Now Gaelin has rallied the northlands against me. I would hardly say that you fulfilled your part of our pact.”

“Nor did you fulfill your part of the bargain, by allowing Gaelin to escape when we had him in our clutches!”

Tuorel’s eyes narrowed. “It would seem neither of us wishes to deal with the other any longer. Bannier, your presence here is no longer required.” He dropped one hand, signaling.

Instantly, two crossbows thrummed, while the Iron Guards nearest Bannier turned and raised their swords to cut him down. The Khinasi standing beside Tuorel raised her hands and started chanting. Bannier merely smiled.

The bolts struck Bannier clean in the chest but passed completely through his body without resistance, leaving the wizard untouched. The Iron Guards who struck at him were not so lucky. Their blades tore great rents in Bannier’s clothing but passed through his flesh as if he were insubstantial. Even as the swords slashed through his body, a double flash of virulent green energy blinded the Ghoerans standing nearby, and the guards screamed as their swords were blasted from their hands, the energy leaping up their sword-arms and shattering their very bones with a stink of burning flesh. Both men were thrown backward into the guards behind them, spinning like nerveless dolls.

Ignoring these distractions, Bannier concentrated on the mage. Speaking one quick word, his body shimmered and disappeared even as a bright blue flash of lightning snapped forward from her fingertips. It snaked through the doorway to strike some unfortunate guards standing just outside. Bannier appeared again an arm’s reach from the sorceress, and he lunged forward, invoking one of the most damaging spells he knew. Even as she tried to twist away, a seething sphere of burning acid struck her right shoulder, instantly eating into her body. Bannier stepped back and let her go; shrieking in pain, she stumbled out of the tent. Her cries diminished within a matter of seconds.