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Jokk tapped on the door of the good-sized house. Varian glanced up and down the dark, empty street. He brushed the front of his tunic, then looked over the front of the house.

It seemed like every other one in the winding street, a two-story wooden front receding into the side of a hill. The frosted-glass windows were glowing with firelight. As the door swung open, they were bathed in a wave of warm air and light.

"Captain Jokk! Come in. Who is this with ye then?"

Jokk pulled Varian inside with him, saying something that Varian didn't catch. His tongue felt thick in his throat, and he could feel sweat beading on the back of his neck. Jokk glanced at him.

"Varian, this is Kerrin's wife, Lia."

"Well met, Vari'n," Lia said, smiling.

"Well met," Varian answered, glancing at her.

Lia was a stout, middle-aged woman with a wide smile. She seemed, even at first glance, to be a woman who wanted to mother anyone she came in contact with. But Varian realized that her golden brown eyes seemed to be made up of liquid sorrow.

She directed them to a wooden bench by the fire. As Varian settled into his surprisingly comfortable seat, a girl stepped out of a door set into the wall by the fireplace.

"Mother, do you want me to make tea for our visitors?"

"Yes please, Kearah."

Kearah turned back, and as she did so, glanced at Varian. He started. Her green eyes, peeking from beneath a mane of curly black hair, were startlingly vivid and piercing. She shot him a wide smile that said, Surprised ye, eh? and disappeared into the kitchen.

"Now, Captain." Lia sat across the fire from them. Her business-like manner dropped and she leaned forward, the fear in her eyes spreading over her face like a disease. Her voice was hoarse. "Have ye heard from my husband?"

Until then, Varian had tried to avoid thinking of Lia as Kerrin's widow. He grabbed the edge of the bench, startled by the sorrow that ripped through him. He closed his eyes, feeling tears burning them.

Jokk's hand gripped his shoulder. "This young lad brought the news to me tonight. I'm sorry, Lia."

Lia inhaled sharply. Varian opened his eyes, met her's. Something about her expression made him let out a short sob.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

"When he didn't come back, I almost expected—but I kept hopin', for my children…" Lia's voice petered out.

"I'm sorry, Lia," Jokk said again.

Lia nodded. "How did he—he die, Vari'n?"

Varian inwardly prayed for guidance and, with many pauses, began explaining the story. Throughout the narrative, Jokk's stone-faced expression never changed, save for a flicker or two in his eyes whenever Danilos was mentioned. Lia struggled to stay composed, but when Varian paused, she'd sigh and wipe her eyes.

Varian understood—she was still in shock. He'd never allowed himself time to think about, to realize it was real, until he was telling her. Then, like a heavy wave, it descended on him. <i>I failed Kerrin—but not just him, I failed his family. This is my fault. I shouldn't have visited him so much—should've been able to plan his escape better…</i>

As he was finishing, Kearah entered the room. Her face flushed and she looked at Lia. "Mother?"

"Your father—" Lia took a deep breath. "Oh, Kea—"

Kearah stared at her, lips parted in shock. "He's—he's dead? No! It's not true, is it?"

She read the answer on her mother's face. Tears sprang to her eyes and she darted for the stairs at the opposite side of the room. Lia rose, calling her name softly, but Kearah's footsteps pounded up, then across the ceiling above them. A door slammed shut.

Lia winced. "She'll wake her siblings."

"Does she blame herself?" Jokk asked.

"I suppose so. It was her artwork that he was sellin'." Lia glanced at Varian. "I suppose you know that?"

"Kerrin had told me."

"Kearah's art is well-known even in the Lowlands. Kerrin's made the trip many a time. I dinnae know why this time—unless…"

"We'll discuss it tomorrow," Jokk said.

"Oh, aye, Captain. I'm sorry."

"It doesnae matter." Jokk stood. "Ye mustnae let Kearah blame herself."

"I willnae." Lia made eye contact with Varian. "I see that ye was a good friend of Kerrin's, Lowlander prince that ye may be, and that ye havenae given yerself time to mourn him. Dinnae hold it back, my lad."

Varian nodded, not trusting his voice.

"We'll leave ye now, Lia," Jokk said.

"We have extra beds in the house—"

"A house of mournin' doesnae shelter guests. Let me know when ye'd wish to hold his memorial service."

"Thank ye, Captain."   

Varian followed Jokk out to the street. He looked up at the stars and saw a swift, winged shadow pass over the village.

"The dragons keep watch over the village as we sleep," Jokk said.

"Why?"

"These are perilous times, lad—perhaps more so since ye came here." Jokk shoved his hands in his pockets. "I dinnae know what Onna was thinkin'—but no matter. Ye'll stay at my house until we can find somewhere more permanent for ye."

"Permanent? Ye think that's needed?"

"What else could ye do, go back? Nae, ye cannae do that. Not if Danilos is after yer blood."

***

"How are you doing, Tikah?"

The sound of a voice, when Tikah thought she was alone in the kitchen, made her jump. She grabbed the broom as she turned, coming face to face with Onna. The herbalist stood at the door of the kitchen, her bright blue eyes twinkling.

"You scared me, Onna!" she gasped.

"Yes, I suppose I did. Whatever are you doing here in the kitchen at this hour anyway?"

"Brenn said I could take a few turns keeping the fire going throughout the night, now that I'm done 'meddlin' in court intrigue'." Tikah laughed and held up her book. "I don't consider it as much of a punishment as he thinks I do."

"Good for you." Onna pulled a chair to the fire and sat down. "Well, have you heard anything about Varian?"

"There's rumors flying all over the castle. Some say he escaped, others say that Jevran shielding him, and Mel said that several of the guards are saying that you spirited him away."

"Hmp. Stuff and nonsense!"

"So many people think you had something to do with it—they all talk about you being a witch."

"Well, that's their own guilty conscience coming after them. They're afraid of being found out about something so they've got to make up something worse about someone else. What a lot of nonsense those scullery maids bandy about. If anyone cared to find out the truth about three quarters of what they say, there would be a perfectly logical explanation behind it. Stands to reason. But no one cares about logic or reason these days. Just a bunch of silly gossip-mongers and talebearers."

Tikah glanced at Onna's face, wondering what had her stirred up. Onna stared at the fire, her lips pressed together.

"If most of what they're saying is rumors and guesswork, why don't you stop it? Prove to them that they're wrong?" she asked.

Onna smiled. "Because, my dear, though it irks me to hear it spoken as truth, the confusion those rumors create only help us."

" 'Us'?"

The door creaked open, and Onna glanced over Tikah's shoulder. "Ah, Jevran! Come, join us by the fire."

Tikah moved out of the way as Jevran came forward, rubbing his face. Beno trotted at his heels, his eyes sharp and alert, his hand on his swordhilt.

"Well, Onna, did you get Varian safely away?" Jevran asked, yawning.

"Yes, sire, I did indeed. Tikah, can you make up some tea please? Good and strong so Jevran wakes up."

Tikah nodded and picked up the teakettle. As she filled it from the well in the corner of the kitchen, she kept her attention on the conversation unfolding behind her.

"Has anyone seen Danilos since he was barred from the Council room?" Beno asked.

Jevran snorted. "I believe he's in his chambers."

"And what was the verdict?" Onna asked.

"The Council voted three to two that Varian helping Kerrin was 'unintended treason' and that they wouldn't pursue him into the Highlands."

"Well, some people have some sense on their shoulders anyway," Onaa remarked acidly. "Before you started helping Varian, I was beginning to think that this country was ruled by a bunch of nitwits."

"Onna!" Beno sounded shocked.

"She had a right to think that, Beno," Jevran said. "I'm sorry, Onna. I wish it hadn't taken something like this to drive Varian and me together."

"Well, men are like that sometimes. I knew a family of ten boys once. They were always arguing, trying one of them to outdo the others. Male rivalry, you know. But if anyone outside the family challenged one of them, all ten rallied together with their hackles up."

Jevran laughed.

Tikah lowered the lid on the well and stepped to the fireplace. "Why does Danilos hate the Highlanders so much? The few Highlanders I've met who've come into the Lowlands on business seem nice."

Jevran glanced at Beno. "You know more about it than I do."

Tikah hung the kettle above the fire and picked up a poker to stir the coals as Beno cleared his throat.

"It's really very simple. Danilos says that his son crossed into the Highlands to hunt, and that for no reason, a dragon attacked and slaughtered him. Of course, Danilos pleaded with King Ramius to order an attack on the dragons.  King Ramos did send troops to Mount Arborn, home of the dragons, but the Highlanders reused to let the troops pass. Rather than initiate a war, the king decided to withdraw his soldiers. Danilos never did forgive your father for that one, King Jevran. Ever since then, he's continuously lobbied for war."

"There are other rumors, though," Onna piped up.

Tikah turned to look at her. "I thought you said rumors were all nonsense."

"No, dear, I said that they can work to our advantage. Whether they're true or not depends on their silliness. Case in point, the rumor about me being a witch is founded in utter silliness and superstition. But these rumors—well, they hint at something much darker and deeper. They're rampant in the villages."

"Well, Onna, don't keep me in suspense. What are these rumors?" Jevran asked.

"That Danilos sent his son to steal something from the Great Dragon."

***

Varian passed the night is a deep sleep—something he'd unexpectedly found the instant his head touched the feather pillow. When he awoke, the sunlight was streaming in the window of the silent house. He hurriedly dressed and ran downstairs, where he found Jokk sitting beside the fireplace, engrossed in a book.

"Good afternoon," the Highlander said.

"Afternoon? I slept all the way through mornin'?"

"Aye. Grab yer breakfast from the basket in the kitchen."

"When do I get the explanation you promised last night?"

Jokk looked over the top of his book. "Patience is a virtue that every good warrior should larn. All will be explained. At the latest, tomorrow. I sent word to the other Highlander lairds and they'll be here sometime in the Afternoon watch."

Varian bit into his apple. "And until then?"

"Until then, we go to the trainin' fields." Jokk put his book down. "I want to see yer fightin' skills. And we might eve put ye on Fleet again."

Varian's stomach tensed at the thought of spending another minute on the daredevil dragon's back. Jokk strode through the main street of the villager, greeting the people moving to and fro on the streets. Varian was conscious of curious, but friendly, stares as he followed Jokk.

The village, for it's medium size, seemed teeming with people. There was a new house being built on one of the hills, and the air was filled with voices, doors closing, the smells of various breakfast fires, shops opening, and—the most curious—the ring of many blacksmith forges.

Varia caught up with Jokk. "Ye sound like ye're preparin' for war."

"Aye, lad, that's exactly what we're doin'."

"But why?"

"We've been keepin' an eye on yer Danilos for some time. His activities of late are concernin' all of us."

"But—"

"Och, lad! Ye ask a lot of questions. Now, nae more questions, or I'll ask Fleet to have a repeat performance of last night."

Varian shot Jokk a glare. The Highlander's stony expression broke for just an instant into a smile.

"Lad, ye best prepare yerself for more of the like. Once ye learn how to ride a dragon, I'm goin' to teach ye to fight on dragonback. If we have anythin' of yer mother in ye, then it should come naturally."

"Ye knew my mother?"

"Aye, we grew up together." Jokk looked ahead, the set of his face freezing Varian's questions on his tongue.

Varian heard a now-familiar whump-whump sound and looked up as two dragons soared low overhead, passing out of sight over a hill. Jokk led him over the same hill as well.

Below them stretched a flat field, perhaps three or four acres. Even early in the morning, men dotted the grass. Some were crouched, messing with pads of leather that Varian recognized as dragon saddles. Others jogged around the perimeter of the field. A few stood around opensided tents. Varian squinted and gasped as he realized what the tents contained: spears, swords, shields, arrows, bows, maces; saddles for horses and for dragons; piles of armor and metal plates that he didn't recognize.

The Highlanders were serious. They were preparing for war.