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Arri- April 3, 2005


April 3, 2005
Dear Keish,

Captain Stoddart sent a note giving me one last chance to join the inquiry to Marobury the evening before he sent them. At your suggestion, he invited Brynn to join the party and she agreed, although she will not be leading it. She is going more as a consultant. I responded to the repeated invitation with as polite a declination as I could think of and as much encouragement and well-wishes as seemed to show how sorry I was not to be going. I do wish I could go, but I am glad I didn’t. I think the Lioness is right, I need fewer distractions.
How wonderful to have your own private garden! I’m sure Malia did a beautiful job arranging it. I wonder if she can enter a fairy ring? I know Ryland can’t. Perhaps, if Malia can, she would like to see my mother’s garden in the prairie some time. I’m not trying to steal her away to work on it. It’s rather beautiful in a wild, forgotten kind of way. I was just thought she might like to see it.
Caden’s ball sounds like it was a terrifying event. Even the Winter Ball last year when Lady Clara was introduced to the court was less intimidating than the ball you just attended. I am glad I didn’t have to go. However, it sounds as though you handled it beautifully. Next time I come to visit you can show me your dress. Gretel did not get to read this letter, which seems best considering Lady Aoweir’s performance. When I read Gretel the bits of the letter I thought she’d like to hear, I skipped that. It’s just very sad that Gretel doesn’t have a mother she can trust or confide in.
I’ve never seen an Araucana chicken before. I’m going to have to find a book about chickens at the library. They sound very interesting. Liop thought he ought to be able to raise chickens too, but Uncle W. was quick to point out that the apartment has no yard. Liop explained that they could use the roof. Uncle W. is impressed with this creativity, but is determined that he will not be woken up by roosters crowing over his head. Liop will have to do without chickens for the time being. Besides, with Nozama, Coulter, and the fire newts, Liop has enough pets to be looking after. Actually, I think Coulter is more Uncle W.’s dog—not that he’s going to admit it.
At least Caden has one brother who’s willing to stand up for him. Lord Macario sounds like a good guy. Offering Caden a teaching position sounds like a good idea. It would give him something to do after he’s done being a spy for King Menion. I hope he is able to uncover everything that is going on. Maybe he’ll be able to find out exactly what the last two Sunem name glyphs mean.

April 4th

Today found Mendel and Gordo arguing vigorously over their Elcaran History assignment. They don’t have the class at the same time, but the same professor is teaching them both. I couldn’t see the point of the argument, so I was just following along as we looked for a quiet place to study. Suddenly Mendel stopped mid-sentence and turned his head. Gordo followed suit. From around the corner of the second floor of the Math building we could hear Dr. Kondamuri’s confident voice.
“Of course I did everything I could for her,” he was saying, “you can see from her grades that term, but it was inevitable that her grades should fall. Every term she’ll require more and more support, until eventually she reaches the limit of what a woman can obtain. Westridge and Yawmus can only help her so much.”
I froze and a kind of anger boiled up. It isn’t fair, Keish! Every student on campus belongs to at least one study group. It’s the only way to get through. However, if I have a study group, it’s evidence of weakness. Dr. Kondamuri is not the only professor to look specifically at me when providing information about tutors and study groups. It seems like to prove myself I must not only take tests in isolation, I must also study alone. Technically, Dr. Kondamuri is the only professor to require tests in isolation.
I suppose only a few seconds passed while all these angry thoughts coursed through me. Then I felt Mendel’s hand on my elbow. He steered me toward the stairs. Gordo was looking at me with surprise.
“Unbelievable,” muttered Mendel, “Come on, we’ll go up a floor and check for empty classrooms.”
“Arri’s grades are above average,” said Gordo in confusion, “and neither of us is capable of helping her with biology.”
“I suppose they assume Master Grant is,” I muttered. I let Mendel guide me up the stairs.
“Dr. Kondamuri is a cockalorum,” said Mendel, rather loudly. He paused and a slight smile crossed his face, “We all need help. Even Gordo gets help with Iconese from an eight-year-old.”
“So, who do you get help from?” asked Gordo, a little defensively.
“Fish, of course,” I said, relieved by the distraction.
“Golden trout,” Mendel corrected me, “and they assure me they all have their doctorates.”
Gordo laughed and the tension I was feeling dissipated.
“You should invite Master Grant to study with us,” he said, “It’s much more fun to study as a group.”
“He’s very busy,” I said.
“Too busy to study?” asked Mendel.
“Well, Master Grant is engaged,” I said, reddening a bit, “He’s to be married this summer to Miss Sagiteria Curtiz.”
“Really?” asked Mendel, sounding pleased, “You must convey my congratulations! I think I’ll send them a gift!”
Then he sobered a bit, looking at me.
“I was thinking, Arri,” he said, “I have two fine jumpers in the school stables that need exercise. This weekend is probably going to be the easiest we have in a while. Would you and Gordo like to go riding?”
“On Asus?” I asked, then stopped, thinking, “I can bring Sprigs. That will make three horses.”
“Great! Gordo can ride Sprigs,” said Mendel.
“Will Sprigs take an inexperienced rider?” asked Gordo, hesitantly, “Asus threw me several months ago.”
“Yes,” I said, “He was initially trained as a children’s mount, although he made a fine squire’s horse for Imato. He’s not much of a jumper though. Imato tried to train him, but cerbats aren’t really bred for jumping.”
“Perfect,” said Mendel, “Arri can handle a holsteiner, and Gordo gets the squire’s mount. I think you’ll like Sprigs, Gordo.”
Gordo looked uncertain, but willing to try. As holsteiners, Asus and Tattheus are excellent jumpers. I’ve ridden Asus before and the opportunity to do so again was more than I could pass up.

April 6th
“You’ve read that one before,” said Gretel. She was standing behind me as I stared blankly at a passage in the Chronicle. I had all of my notes scattered about the table and a stack of blank paper to one side. It had been a whole ream, but a quarter of the sheets were wadded up on the floor. I suppose in my frustration I wasn’t worrying much about the mess. Gretel started to bend and gather them up, but she stopped before she got very far.
“I suppose I’ll ask Emily to do it,” she said, putting her hand on her back. Her condition is showing now; none of her dresses will hide it. In a few more weeks, she will start her confinement.
“I’ll clean up before I go to bed,” I said, gathering a couple of the crumpled sheets closest to me and setting them on the desk. Curious, Gretel grabbed one and smoothed it out.
“Where did this spell come from?” she asked, studying it.
“Nowhere,” I said, self-consciously, “It’s not a spell.”
“Not a complete one,” Gretel agreed. She smoothed out the second sheet.
“Arri,” she said after a pause, “when are you going to try this?”
“It’s not ready,” I said, “I have to test it.”
“How will you test it?”
“Well, that’s the problem,” I said slowly, “I don’t know how. The only way to test it would be to recreate the conditions in a laboratory where I can control the variables, but I can’t do that.”
“Is that how spells are normally tested?” asked Gretel.
“This isn’t a normal spell,” I said.
“It isn’t a science experiment either,” said Gretel.
She had a point.
“Gretel,” I said, “if this spell goes wrong, someone could die.”
Gretel didn’t say anything. She bent down and grabbed another paper to smooth out. She held it next to the second sheet and compared them. Frowning, she reached for another sheet. I didn’t offer to help. She got it after a minute and spread it out to compare.
“I know,” I admitted finally, “I’m just wasting paper writing the same things over and over.”
Gretel shook her head.
“I don’t know what to say,” she said, “I don’t know much about magic. Maybe it’s time to visit the Winged Lioness again.”
She took the three identical copies of the spell and set them in front of me. Then she went to the cupboard where she found the quilt blocks she came for.
“I wish I could help,” she said finally, sadly, and took her seat on the sofa with a needle and thread.
I turned back to staring blankly at the page in the Chronicle.
It’s not ready, Keish. And I’m scared to try it. But first it needs a solvent anyway. I don’t think ordinary water will work, but nothing passes through a cell membrane better than water.

April 8th
In geology today I learned that stalactite and stalagmites are formed from mineral drops dissolved in water and dripping in caves. It takes thousands of years to make a big one. Most of the corridors and rooms in the Brio caves are not so old, nor do they drip water, but in my wanderings I did find one passage that was more damp than others. It made me feel cold and uncomfortable, so I left it alone, but I wonder if I follow it, if I could find some of the older, natural parts of the caves. There might be stalactites and stalagmites, and underground pools of water such as I’ve been reading about in my biology book. I don’t think the intaglios in my textbook do the idea justice. I remember Adler’s description of the beauty of the Brio caves. I’m not sure I’ve seen that beauty yet. I’d like to.

April 9th
Asus is a fabulous jumper. This morning I took him over as many of the tallest hedges on the castle grounds as we could find. Gordo had a hard time keeping up with us, but he was a good sport about it and seemed mainly grateful that we didn’t try to talk him into jumping Sprigs over anything.
I was in pretty high spirits as we wiped down the horses at the King’s stables and prepared to go home. It was still morning, bright and beautiful. We were just leading the horses out again to take them home when a page came running up.
“Message for Lady Arri,” he said, bowing and handing it to me. It was the same boy who gave the note to the Queen during our lunch some months ago.
I took the note. Gordo pretended polite interest in Sprigs, but Mendel was clearly interested. I started to put it in my satchel.
“Pardon, my lady,” said the page, “but it’s to be read immediately.”
I sighed and opened it. Mendel watched my face.
“It’s just a note to stop by Captain Stoddart’s office on my way out,” I told him after a minute.
“Sounds important,” said Mendel.
“Maybe he has news about the name glyphs,” I said. The note did not sound urgent. I told the page I would be up after seeing Sprigs into a stall.
I could tell Mendel wanted more than anything to stay and find out about the meeting, but Gordo reminded him that they had other commitments for the day and reluctantly, they left us. I supposed I would be interrogated thoroughly the next time I saw them.
The castle grounds being very large, it took several minutes to make my way over to the tower and up the stairs to the captain’s office. By the time I did, I had had plenty of time to think of all the different reasons why he might want to meet with me and to become very worried.
“Welcome, Lady Arri,” said the captain, opening the door for me. He invited me to sit and asked after Gretel’s health. My answers were rather distracted.
“I read the latest report from Sergeant Levine this morning and Sir Imato’s division is doing very well. We’re going to bring home two divisions this month and much of that success is due to your brother’s success with the Bellington ward.”
“That’s wonderful,” I said, brightening.
“I intend to keep you apprised of the progress with the inquiry. I know you correspond with Brynn, so I hope you’ll keep me informed of anything you learn with regards to matters.”
“Yes, of course,” I said.
“Thank you,” he smiled.
It seemed like the conversation was coming to a close. I was feeling that it was very nice of the captain to take time to tell me about Imato personally and to feel foolish about all of my earlier worries.
Then there was a knock at the door. The page entered and handed Captain Stoddart a note.
“Pardon me, Lady Arri,” he said as he opened it.
As I watched his eyes scan down the contents of the paper, the room grew cold. He walked back to his desk and sat down, his eyes darting quickly to me and back again. I didn’t move. I don’t know how much time passed—much longer than was required to read the single sheet of paper. Finally, he looked up at me.
“Arri,” he began, and stopped.
He’d forgotten to use “Lady”. Terror shot through me.
He looked from me to the paper and back again. Finally, he pushed it across the desk in my direction.
I looked down at the paper.
It was a ransom note.
Offered for ransom was Imato.
In exchange for either Captain Quin Etautca or Ta’y.
I read the paper and read it again, much as the captain must have a few minutes earlier. Imato was being held at the Greste capital. He would not be harmed so long as they received what they wanted by the deadline in one month.
“I’m so sorry… I—” words failed him as I slid the paper back.
“How?” I asked.
“How?” he agreed, “How is it that the knight who only a few weeks ago created a Bellington ward could be taken hostage? Imato is nearly invincible. You know as much as I do about how this might have happened.”
I nodded, looking at the paper in his hands.
“What do we do?” I asked, “We don’t even know what Ta’y is.”
“Well, this confirms it is an object of some sort. We can only pray that the inquiry is successful.”
“Yes,” I said, “Do they know how Father is right now?”
“They must know,” answered the captain, “It’s well known in Rousha.”
We considered that.
“My guess,” said Captain Stoddart softly, “is that they believe he knows both what and where Ta’y is. They intend to get that information from him somehow.”
It made sense. Trena knew too, but she said I must heal Father. She saw what would happen if I didn’t, and it must have been terrible. What could it have been?
“Perhaps it isn’t a weapon,” I said softly, “Perhaps it’s something that will end this war.”
I didn’t realize I had spoken aloud. Captain Stoddart was watching me closely.
“Do you know something else, Lady Arri?” he asked.
“Nothing I haven’t told you. The Winged Lioness said I must heal my Father to prevent what is going to happen.”
But what if it already happened? What if the abduction of Imato was just what Trena was trying to prevent? I didn’t say this aloud.
The captain nodded, “I will inform the King of this matter. We will do everything in our power to bring your brother home. Lady Arri, if there is anything that you think should be done, let me know.”
I stood suddenly, “I need to leave. Please excuse me.”
It took forever to reach the stables and saddle Sprigs. He seemed to sense my hurry and broke into a gallop almost the moment I touched the saddle. I did not attempt to slow him.
In my mind the words repeated over and over: a solvent, a solvent, a solvent.
But first I must get my book of fairy stories.

“Trena!” I called the moment I reached the caves. Gretel was out shopping when I reached the house. I didn’t intend to run off without telling anyone, but I wasn’t going farther than the caves. Not today. I didn’t leave a note. Gretel would need this information delivered in person.
“Trena!” I ran out into the corridor.
“Arrietta?” she asked, emerging from a cavern.
“I need a solvent,” I said, breathless.
“What is that?”
“Something that will carry magic,” I explained, “a liquid to work in my spell.”
I held out the least crumpled of my spells before her, watching her eyes dart across the poor handwriting.
“Masterful,” she breathed, after a few minutes.
“Do you think it will work?” I asked.
“I don’t understand half of it,” she purred, “but yes, I believe it will.”
“I showed it to Master Ujifil the other day. He didn’t understand it either. I thought that meant I shouldn’t use it.”
“Did he say you shouldn’t?”
“He couldn’t tell. There’s no way to test it. Trena, what if it fails? Father could die. I could die.”
Trena looked behind herself.
A soft nicker, like a horse’s, startled me. I could see a shape in the corridor behind Trena, shadowed and facing away. It was somewhat taller than the Lioness and very thin. I had never seen another creature in the caves before. Hooves clicked against the stone. Fascinated, I fell silent.
The filly turned her head and I froze.
It was Moonstone, and yet not Moonstone. From her forehead, where the crescent moon shape once sat, grew a silver horn. A unicorn’s horn.
“Moonstone?” I asked, hesitant. She nickered and trotted up to me. I held out my hand and she put her nose under it.
“She remembers you,” purred Trena.
“But how…” my voice trailed off. How did not really matter.
“True sacrifice is a powerful spell. You can never be sure what form the spell will take, but it is good magic at its strongest. Moonstone was a willing part of that spell and this is the result.
I didn’t say anything. I wanted to put my arms around Moonstone, but I didn’t dare for awe of her. She was larger than when I last saw her, but still a foal, younger than the yearling she should have been.
“She grows more slowly now,” Trena continued to purr, “When Mendel took Glory to rescue you, I put Moonstone to a unicorn mare to nurse. I did not know what would happen.”
“She’s so beautiful.”
Trena chuckled, “You thought that before.”
“Yes,” I said absently.
“Now come,” said Trena, “You must finish preparing your spell.”
I followed Trena down the corridor of the cave. Moonstone trotted along behind us, tossing her black head playfully, silver horn sparkling with torchlight.
“Does she ever get to go above ground?” I asked.
“She lives above ground,” Trena informed me, “I called her here today for you.”
We walked along in silence for quite a ways, turning down corridors I didn’t recognize, passing from carved walls into natural caverns. Intaglios with stalactites and stalagmites flashed briefly into my memory and away. Hadn’t I wanted to see them? A trickling of water caught my ears.
“The fountain of wishes?” I asked, nervousness sweeping through me.
Trena did not answer.
When we reached the fountain Moonstone trotted forward and drank deeply, her foal’s tail flicking back and forth with enjoyment. I hung back.
It was not a manmade fountain, but a tumbling of water over rounded stone, smooth from the constant current. There were no torches in the room but it was lit from another source that I couldn’t see. The light was bright and clear, like daylight, though we must have been deep underground.
“In the end, Arrietta,” said Trena softly, “it is our desires that will reveal us most truly. I gave this water once to an old woman, whose greatest desire was to see love at its best. She’d lived a hard life and seen the worst of men’s hatred. She bottled the water in a little flask and took it with her. She was dying, but life was not her greatest desire. Then one cold night she curled up on the pavement, only to be woken by a stranger. He told her it was illegal to sleep on the street and directed her to the nearest poorhouse. In her illness and confusion she mistook his directions and landed on the doorstep of the King’s Captain, a man of greater importance than she had ever encountered. He did not turn her away but drew her in, seated her with his family, and served her the best his table could offer. He had a fine teenage son and beautiful daughter who did not shrink away from her rags but offered her the best seat in the house and worried about where she would go the next day. He had a darling three-year-old son who was, for reasons no one could determine, completely mute. Here was love at its best: a good and generous family. She wished to be a part of that love and goodness. So she gave the water to the toddler to drink, healing him of his trouble. It was enough. She had her wish. She left the house happier than she had been in all her life and died peacefully in the hospital the next day.
“Your desires, Arrietta, not long ago, created a unicorn. Surely the man who cared for a haggard old woman could do no less in his desires. Take the water, it is the solvent for your spell.”
There was hollowed stone bowl on a rock near the water. I filled it and took it to Moonstone, who touched the tip of her horn in the liquid. The water took on a silver sparkle and I filled a crystal flask with it.
“Did you see me when you saw the future? Did you see Imato or Father?”
“No,” said Trena, “I did not. Now go quickly.”

I had not been gone more than a couple of hours. Gretel was still out shopping. I was glad of that. Somehow I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to give myself an opportunity to think about the danger. I re-saddled Sprigs and directed him to the mental home, glad that Gordo had not ridden him hard that morning. I left a note that I was gone to visit Father, but said nothing of my purpose or the events of the morning.
I had the water in its crystal flask in my satchel and the piece of glass that the old healer fairy gave to Liop and me. I had a microscope borrowed without permission from the university laboratory—I hope they understand. Last I had Mother's fairy book. I took them to the mental home.
"I am here to cure my father," I said to Dr. Rascada when he greeted me. He blinked at me.
"So it is time at last," he said after a moment, "I thought this day was getting closer."
He held the door and admitted me. At his direction, two nurses helped move Father into an empty exam room. Dr. Rascada offered to stay with me, but I wanted to be alone.
As the door to the room shut behind me, I looked at my father. He was sleepy, having just woken up. I took the flask and breathed deeply, watching the water splash through the clear crystal. I took out the microscope and carefully prepared the piece of glass as though it were a specimen slide. It was rather large and awkward for such small work, but I managed to balance it beneath the lens. Spreading water from the flask onto the glass and reciting the first lines of my spell, I glanced at Father. He shifted restlessly, his eyes dark and haunted in his deeply scarred face. I tried to catch his eyes, to hold them with my gaze. He would not look at me long. I took the first swallow of water. What I want most is to heal my father, for the water to carry magic through the membrane of his brain cells and release them from the spell that held them captive. It was a spell hidden so well within the cell walls that ordinary magic could not even detect it. I had sensed it, however, in my efforts to see indirectly into the cells—indirectly, because individual cells do not respond to normal magic; rather, they respond to other things reacting to magic. And that is how healing works.
I knew what I wanted most. What did Father want most? I held out the flask to him:
"Drink," I said softly.
Father stiffened, one hand flew outward, cracking the wood panel of the wall next to him. I tried to keep my breathing steady, tried to get his eyes to look into mine. He stared instead at the cracked wall. I recited Mother's simple healing poem. Father turned and looked at me. Then suddenly, he lunged forward and snatched the flask from my hand. He swallowed the contents in a few gulps and then threw the flask against a wall. Shards of crystal flew in all directions. I felt a slight sting as one grazed across my eyebrow and another imbedded itself in my arm. Father's hand turned red with blood. I was afraid. I moved between Father and the microscope. Father clenched his bleeding hand into a fist and winced in pain as shards of crystal were driven deeper into it. He looked around wildly and his gaze fell on me. Our eyes met and he stilled.
Slowly I reached behind myself and removed the glass from under the microscope. I set my fairy book on the floor, but held out the glass.
"Read the book with the glass," I told him, holding the objects out.
Father took the glass with his uncut hand and knelt over the book. Gingerly, he opened the cover and then flipped to the final picture on the inside of the back cover. It was an illustration of our family: Father, Mother, Imato, and me as we had been the year mother gave me the book when I was eight. He held up the glass and looked through it at the picture. Nothing happened. Father didn't move, looking through the glass. I moved cautiously to stand behind him, looking over his shoulder.
The room began to spin, colors swirling around us, blending together. My head became dizzy and I fell forward.
Father caught me. He held me close for a moment and then set me carefully on my feet. Disoriented, I looked around. We were not in the hospital room anymore. We were in my parents' bedroom in the cape house in Dock-on-Green. Mother was sitting up in bed with a baby in her arms. She was smiling, tired, too ill to stand, and yet we did not know that we would lose her. I was wearing my favorite bright green dress. Fourteen-year-old Imato entered the room with a tray of chamomile tea and chocolate chip cookies. We all sat together around the bed to eat and drink. Together we laughed and shouted out suggestions for what to name the baby. Father shouted out the name "Squeaker", because this is the sound Liop made when he was born. He did not cry. Imato suggested the name "Puppy" since he was sure to follow everyone around before long. I suggested "Hungry." We took turns shouting out names, each one sillier than the next until we were all breathless with laughter. Then finally Mother told us his name was Liop after Father's grandfather and we all agreed it was perfect. Then we sat together watching Liop sleep.
I felt Father's arms around me and I turned to look into his eyes, into his young unblemished face. He smiled.
"Arri," he said, "is it you?"
The bedroom in Dock-on-Green fell away and we were standing in the hospital room once again. The sense of loss was overwhelming and I crumpled to the floor. When I woke up Father had me in his arms. We were seated on the floor of the empty room and he rocked me back and forth. Around his cut hand was a piece of linen torn from the cloth on the examination table. He had similarly bandaged my forehead and arm.
"Where am I?" he asked. His face was old and scarred. He looked frightened.
"You're in the mental home in Rousha," I said, "Father, do you know me?"
"I..." he shook his head and closed his eyes, "The mental home, Arri... How long have I been here?" His voice was rough from lack of use.
"A year and a half," I whispered.
He winced and put one hand to his head.
"Arri, I saw a young black unicorn, and an old fairy, and a hart..." he shook his head, "But the last thing I remember clearly is a battle. I was directing soldiers. We were doing well, I thought..."
"You were hit with a powerful spell," I supplied for him, "It penetrated into your brain cells and locked up your memories. You wandered away. We all... we all thought you were dead."
“How did you find me?”
“Uncle Winthrop found you,” I said, “and we brought you here.”
Father looked around again.
“Where am I again?”
“In Rousha.”
“Where are Imato and Liop?”
“Liop is with Uncle Winthrop,” I said.
Father was watching me closely.
“Imato?” he asked slowly.
I didn’t answer. It seemed too soon.
“Arri,” Father’s face became stern, but his eyes were frightened.
“He’s with the Grestians,” I said awkwardly, “They’re holding him for ransom.”
Father stood too quickly. He stumbled a bit.
“How long? What do they want?” he demanded.
“We only found out this morning,” I said quickly, rising to help him, “They want… Father, have you ever heard of Ta’y?”
Father froze.
“Yes,” he said.
“They want Ta’y,” I said, “or they want you to get it for them.”
“I see.” He sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
“What is Ta’y?” I asked.
“Technically, it was a sword, at least it was when the Grestians had possession of it.”
I didn’t understand.
“Arri, some years ago… You were a few years old, I think…” he put his head in his hands, “You were three. We were living in Marobury. There had been peace with the Grestians for nearly five years, rather suspicious peace. Then we caught wind of a battle with Yuglicov. My first impulse was to let them settle the matter themselves. The mountains of Yuglicov are thick and nearly impossible to navigate without a guide. You have to be born and raised there to learn to fight properly. Greste had no hope of breaking through.
“A few weeks passed. I kept a rotation of spies at our Yuglicov border. At first the reports were exactly what I expected. The Yuglivs, though outnumbered, fought like dragons. I did not worry. Then the tides changed. Impossibly, the Grestians began to make headway. It was disturbing.
“The King, his councilors, and I sat in council for several days. The people of Yuglicov are proud warriors, reclusive, unapproachable. They would rather die than accept help. However, we have been at peace since the Great War and to let them fall to Greste seemed wrong…
“If the Grestians were indeed winning against Yuglicov, than something very serious had changed. I hand-picked a regiment from the best knights from every division and led them to the southwest boundary.
“We pushed into the Yuglicov forest and joined the battle against Greste. You can imagine the reaction of the Yuglivs—hardly welcoming. They took our assistance as a declaration of war. We found ourselves battling on two fronts: the Grestians remained focused on Yuglicov, the Yuglivs divided themselves between Greste and Elcaro. I ordered my soldiers to retreat before Yuglicov and drive toward Greste as best they could. Only my best knights could have accomplished such a task. Like surgeons they cut away the Grestians from the Yuglivs. I wish I could say the Yuglivs were grateful.
“One question in my mind remained. How had the Grestians gained the advantage? What had changed? Sir Hanov Towery was our best magician-knight at the time. He had devised a spell that calculated the enemies’ strength in magical weapons. I pulled him aside to perform it. We soon learned the Grestians had more than twice the normal amount of magic about them. Focusing the spell allowed us to pinpoint a single source for almost all of the Grestian magic.
“We focused our attack in the direction of this source. We began with a hornet formation—”
Father stopped. He looked around.
“What time is it?” he asked.
The room being windowless, I didn’t know. I stepped out into the hall and learned that it was early afternoon.
“We still need a plan for Imato,” said Father.
“Yes, but what about Ta’y?”
Father jerked his head and sighed.
“This story is already longer than it should be,” he paused, “To be short we won the battle and among the weapons I captured was a sword. The Grestians called it Ta’y and it was a single, powerful source of magic. However, the core magic in Ta’y was not Grestian. It came from a stone set within the sword and nearly smothered with layers of Grestian spells. The stone was Yugliv. This is why it was so successful against them. Worried that such a powerful weapon should not be sent unaccompanied to the smelters, I brought Ta’y back to Marobury personally. It was a fascinating piece. We delayed destroying it, so the court magicians could have a chance to study it. Your mother was equally fascinated and spent long hours examining it.
“Eventually the time came to destroy it. We decided strip it layer by layer. Jesse coordinated the process. She first removed the Grestian layers of magic. Then she removed the stone from the sword. Worthless, the sword was sent to the smelters. The stone, however, was something else: its magic was not violent at all. It was, in fact, an ancient Yugliv healing stone. We decided not to destroy it. We gave it to your mother for her healing work.”
“Then where is it?” I asked, thinking of the bank vault and all the Etautca Estate which contained no magical stones.
“I don’t have it,” said Father, softly.
I waited.
“Among the winged lions is a young lioness named Nuicui,” he continued, “Her health is very delicate and for some years your mother had been helping to treat her. The stone proved invaluable in that treatment. When Jesse passed on… I gave the stone to Nuicui. She has it still, if I’m not mistaken.”
Stunned, I said nothing. Had the Winged Lioness known this all along? Why didn’t she tell me?
“Arri,” said Father, his eyes curious, “we need to talk to a winged lion…”
“I can call Banquo,” I answered his question.
“Who is that?”
“He’s the grandson of Noralt,” I responded.
“He must be very young,” murmured Father, “Very well, call him.”
“Here?” I asked, startled.
Father looked around.
“Where are we?” he asked again.
“In the mental home,” I reminded him, “Can’t we go to the house and call Banquo from there?” I shifted nervously, thinking about how much Father didn’t know yet and wondering what to tell him and in what order.
“Yes, of course,” said Father. He stood again. “Who’s house?”
“Imato’s,” I said slowly, thinking hard, “I live there too right now.”
“With Liop?”
“Liop lives with Uncle W.”
“Who?”
“Winthrop. We call him Uncle W.—for short?”
Father laughed.
“Anyway,” I said, “I’ll ask Dr. Rascada if we can borrow his horse. Sprigs doesn’t do well with two riders.”
“Instruct him that I’d like to keep my recovery quiet for a while. There may be some advantage in the Grestians not knowing about it just yet. I have to consider our plan.”
Dr. Rascada wanted to give Father a complete physical before releasing him from the mental home. Father submitted with some impatience, but I could see the relief when the doctor pronounced him in good, if not excellent health. He instructed him to be careful and not over-stress himself. It seemed impractical advice under the circumstances, but Father thanked him and promised to do just that. He explained about the need for secrecy. Dr. Rascada loaned us his long cloak and hat so that we could ride to Imato’s townhouse in relative secrecy. Father looked a little overdressed for the weather, but not extremely so for April. In all of this time, I thought about all of the things I should be telling him, but I didn’t say anything.
We slipped quietly out of the mental home and made our way across the back yard to the barn. We were three-quarters of the way there when Father stumbled a bit and took my arm.
“Dizzy,” he muttered, putting his bandaged hand to his forehead.
I led him to a bench outside the barn door and went in myself to get the horses. Sprigs came willingly enough, but Dr. Rascada’s plain brown mare was fidgety. She snapped at me as we came through the stable door. I released Sprigs to Father and slipped under her neck, bringing her more firmly under control.
Sprigs waited patiently while Father gathered up the reigns. He was watching me more than Sprigs.
“Arri,” Father paused. Carefully, he mounted Sprigs and waited for me to mount the mare.
“Arri,” he repeated, “you said I’ve been in the mental home a year and a half. How long, exactly, has it been since the battle where I lost my memory?”
“Well,” I delayed, “You were missing for some time, wandering in the mountains. Uncle W. found you—“
“How long?” he demanded.
“A little over five years,” I admitted, “Today is April 9th, 2005.”
Already pale, Father went whiter still. “Five years,” he repeated, “that would make you…” He frowned.
“Eighteen,” I supplied awkwardly.
“And Imato twenty-two and Liop eight. Liop… how is he?”
“He’s fine. The fairies didn’t get him.”
Father smiled, “That’s probably a good story. Let’s get to the house first though.”
“There’s one more thing I should tell you first,” I said quickly, “Imato’s married. His wife, Gretel, will be there.”
“Married,” Father repeated, shaking his head, eyes wide.
The mare tossed her head as I urged her into the street. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Father bring Sprigs in line behind me. His hazel eyes were still wide as a child’s.

We did not hurry the horses. I felt okay, but I could Father was still weak. I couldn’t help but watch nervously as we passed people in the streets, wondering if they would recognize Father, hoping they didn’t. No one paid us the slightest attention and Father kept the hat down and his face shadowed.
The yard was empty and we stabled Dr. Rascada’s mare but tied Sprigs outside. Reynard was in his stall, so I knew Gretel was home from shopping. I let us in through the back door. Normally Cook, Emily, or Cook’s daughter will come help me with my things when I arrive, but today the entry remained disturbingly empty. Father and I hung our hats and the cloak in the closet ourselves.
“Where is the butler?” Father asked.
“We don’t keep one,” I said.
Father didn’t say anything else as I led him upstairs to the sitting room. I was thinking that I ought to find Gretel myself and fill her in on the morning’s events when we came upon her suddenly in the hallway. She was turned away, a light target bow held at ready in her arms. She turned quickly when she heard us approach. I’ve never seen her look so intimidating, the bow lowering as recognition dawned, face lined with fear and worry.
“Sir Quin,” she gasped. Though lowered, she did not release her grip on the bow. I had the feeling she could still release an arrow at a target within seconds if she desired.
“Gretel,” I began, “I…” but words failed me. I looked up at Father. Surprise etched his features as he studied Gretel.
“Father,” I tried again awkwardly, “I’d like you to meet Gretel, Imato’s wife. Gretel, this is my Father, Quin… I healed him today.” I suppose the introduction was unnecessary. “Gretel, why are you carrying a bow?” I finished.
Gretel looked down at the bow in surprise. She dropped the arrow.
“What I need is an arbalest. Arri, Captain—“ her eyes went to Father, “Sir Stoddart,“ she corrected herself, “left here not half an hour ago. You’ve already heard his… news.” Her voice trembled, very near tears.
“Yes,” I admitted, “Father’s here now, and he knows what Ta’y is.”
“We’re forming a plan,” Father said, taking control of the situation with only his voice, “Imato will be rescued. Let’s go into the sitting room and talk about it.”
Gretel’s eyes shone. She turned and led the way to the sitting room. Once there, she closed the door behind us, locked it, and drew the curtains shut, turning up the lamps.
“What will we do?” she asked, looking at Father.
He was looking around himself distractedly.
“Arri, is the Etautca Estate intact?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, wondering what that had to do with anything.
“Good,” he said, “Gretel, do you have a current copy of the Military Registry?”
Gretel found it for him on a bookshelf.
“Now, you two,” said Father, “I need to do some studying, and Arri, you need to call Banquo. Can either of you perform an encryption spell?”
We both shook our heads.
“No matter,” he said, “I’ll just write cypher. In the meantime, Arri and I are quite starved: if you could ring the servants for a simple meal? Whatever they have handy.”
“I’ll prepare it,” said Gretel immediately. That caught my attention.
“Where is everyone?” I asked.
Gretel frowned. “I sent them out,” she said.
“Cook, Leisle, and Emily?” I asked.
“Yes,” Gretel responded firmly, “Arri, have you heard the latest piece of information uncovered around noon?”
I shook my head.
“They found out who Mic’o is,” said Gretel, “Arri, it’s Claud White.” She was trembling.
Shock coursed through me.
“Who?” asked Father from his seat at the desk.
“Imato’s valet,” I supplied. Then, while Father searched the registry, I filled him in on the assassination attempt and the documents and the seven Sunem name glyphs.
“Be careful about jumping to conclusions,” said Father, “It’s just as naive to think all Grestians are evil as it is to think all Elcarans are good.”
“He kept his identity a secret,” said Gretel angrily.
“Would anyone have considered hiring him if he hadn’t?” asked Father.
Gretel folded her arms.
“You are right, of course. The fact that his name was mentioned in the document speaks heavily against him. He is probably a traitor,” Father admitted, “but let’s leave a little room for doubt. We don’t know the actual message or the context in which his name appears. Have you ever suspected Master White of anything before?”
“Nothing,” she admitted, “but he’s only been in our employ since last summer.”
Father nodded and continued studying the registry.
“He’s been exemplary in everything up until this,” Gretel continued thoughtfully.
“Then let’s hope he still is,” said Father, “but be careful at the same time.”
“He disappeared at the same time as Imato,” said Gretel.
“Very suspicious,” Father agreed.
Gretel took up her target bow and arrow and continued pacing. I excused myself to the kitchen. Once there I began with the calling spell for Banquo. I hadn’t ever used it before and wasn’t sure how long it would take him to respond. However, from Trena’s explanation I knew he would not appear instantaneously. I decided to prepare the sandwiches, my thoughts racing in useless circles. Gretel’s cook is not the most organized person (although her food is excellent), so it took me a few minutes to gather materials for the simple sandwiches. In that time it occurred to me that we needed. I put the food on a tray and returned as quickly as I could. Gretel was still pacing. Father was bent over his book.
“We need to send for Uncle W. and Nysa,” I said.
“Nysa?” Father’s head shot up.
“She left the fairy ring over a year ago,” I explained quickly, “and now she lives with Uncle W. and LIop.”
“Amazing… the number of times Jesse and Ellean tried to coax her out…” he shook his head.
“She came out to keep her promise to Mother, to watch over me,” I said.
“Amazing… yes, send for her.”
“I’ll go,” said Gretel.
“You stay here,” Father shook his head at her, “Where are the servants? Did you dismiss them?”
“No,” said Gretel, “I just… I don’t know who I can trust. I gave them the day off so I could think.”
“Arri, find a street child to carry a note to Winthrop and Nysa. They’ll come even if you don’t send a reason, won’t they?”
“Yes, they’ll come,” I said. I hurried out the front door and into the street. I had hardly passed the front when I came upon Emily, seated at the base of tree. She stood quickly at the sight of me and tried to straighten her skirts.
“Emily?” I asked.
“Is everything alright, milady?” asked Emily, her eyes worried, “The captain was here and Lady Gretel’s in a panic. She sent us all out, but we don’t know what we did to call for it.”
She shifted nervously, glancing at the house. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure what I could tell her.
“You haven’t done anything,” I said, “Gretel isn’t feeling well. Can you run a note to Lord Brio and Lady Nysa?” I handed over the note. Emily took it.
“Would you like a physician as well?” she asked.
“No, just deliver this note right away.”
She curtseyed and hurried off. I watched until she turned the corner. Emily and Master White worked closely together. Did she know anything? It was a disturbing idea and I pushed it away. The note contained no useful information.
Back in the house I found Father closing the military registry and pushing it away across the desk.
“How long has Imato’s division been deployed?” he asked.
“Since the end of January, Sir Quin,” said Gretel.
He cocked his head to one side and looked at her.
“May I ask what family you come from?” he asked.
“My father is Sir Queran Aoweir,” said Gretel immediately.
“Of course,” said Father, smiling.
Gretel raised her brows.
“Very few people continued to call me Sir Quin after my appointment to Captain,” Father explained softly, “Queran is one of them. I’m very pleased to have you for a daughter-in-law. Welcome to the family.”
For some reason Gretel burst into tears and threw her arms around him.
Father patted her back lightly. “How is your family?” he asked.
“Father’s division is stationed with Imato’s. I haven’t heard from him in over a week,” said Gretel. She pulled away from him, rubbing her face self-consciously, “If I don’t hear from him soon, I’m going up there.” Her eyes strayed to the target bow. We all looked at it, lightweight, flimsy, a lady’s hobby bow, or a child’s. Still, I imagined it could do some damage.
“There may be some cause for that,” Father agreed, “but wait until we have a formal plan.”
It seemed like a long wait for the knock on the door that announced Uncle W. and Nysa’s arrival. Father had switched from the military registry to reading the correspondence between Imato, Sir Aoweir, and Gretel. When I heard the knock, I leaped from my place to answer it.
“I healed my father!” I almost shouted as I opened the door, “He’s here and we’re going to rescue Imato from the Grestians.” I ushered them into the entry and helped Nysa with her cloak. I caught a glimpse of Emily standing by the gate, watching us as I closed the door.
“Arri, slow down. What was that?” asked Uncle W.
At that moment a lion roared from the kitchen.
“Banquo!” I gasped and darted from the entry without answering, leaving them to make their way to Gretel’s sitting room on their own.

We were all in the sitting room now: Father, Gretel, Uncle W., Nysa, Banquo, and me. It was not a large sitting room and with Banquo’s long figure, felt crowded. Father marched back and forth in front of us as though before a line of soldiers. Gretel clutched her bow in her hand and refused to sit, though we all would have liked her to. Father began with a repetition of the facts, reading the copy of the Grestian’s message from the copy Sir Stoddart gave to Gretel. Uncle W. stopped him at that point to ask what he knew about Ta’y. Father related the story of the battle with Yuglicov and Greste.
“The Grestians have never quite believed that we would destroy all their weapons,” Uncle W. grumbled, “You should have taken pains with such a dangerous weapon to make sure they understood it no longer existed.”
“One of the questions in my mind,” said Father, “is what they need it for. Surely they don’t expect us to turn over a powerful weapon that they can turn around and attack us with.”
Uncle Winthrop refused to credit them with that much logic. Father shook his head and turned to Banquo, who had been watching the two of them tensely.
“Banquo,” he began formally, “I would like to speak with the lioness Nuicui. Can you take me to her?”
Banquo shifted uncomfortably and shook his head.
“Can you deliver a message to her?” asked Father, looking surprised.
Again a shake of the head. Father frowned at him thoughfully.
“Do you know where Nuicui is?” he asked.
Banquo shook his dark head again, eyes troubled. He stood up and made a show of searching among the furniture.
“Missing?” Father asked in surprise, “How long?”
“Several weeks,” translated Uncle W., “Her parents have been looking for her since before Imato’s last battle. Banquo is also looking, though he hasn’t been looking as long. He’s very worried.”
Father was silent. We all waited, Banquo crouched restlessly, tail twitching.
“Quin,” said Uncle W., “I don’t see how a healing stone will be of any use in recovering Imato.”
“The Grestians believe that we can supply them with Ta’y,” said Father, “I don’t understand the situation entirely, but one thing I’m sure of is that they will not harm Imato so long as they think his presence encourages us to cooperate with their demands. I’d like to find Nuicui.”
Banquo gave a small growl.
“I respect that,” said Father without waiting for Uncle W. to translate, “I have no intention of taking the stone from her. You say she’s left the canyon?”
“Yes,” translated Uncle W., “It’s not something she’s ever done before.”
“I will help you in your quest, Banquo,” said Father, “No harm will come to Nuicui if it’s in my power to prevent it.”
Banquo inclined his head gratefully.
“There’s a need for delicacy on this quest,” Father continued, “the fewer people the better.” He looked at each of us in turn.
Banquo said something.
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Uncle W. responded without translating.
The lion growled. Father frowned.
“I’d like to hear what he said.”
“Quin, the Grestians are taking advantage of your family to catch your attention. The last thing you want to do is put more of them at risk.”
Banquo stood, his tail lashing, growling at Uncle W.
Father took a deep breath. “Winthrop, I value the opinion of everyone in this room. I will hear every suggestion and then will decide what is best.”
“This is a family concern,” Uncle Winthrop countered, “You and I should travel to Greste…”
Banquo growled at him and he stopped. Nysa’s large eyes moved between the two of them. She had yet to speak a single word in Father’s presence.
“Imato is a knight of Elcaro and I am his Captain,” Father said, “My authority also extends to civilians as it relates to foreign affairs. You are out of line, Winthrop.”
Uncle W. folded his arms.
“Exactly as I remember you,” he mumbled softly. I don’t think Father heard this, but I did. The tension in the room mounted.
“Winthrop, please,” said Father, putting his good hand to his head, “You might find we’re in perfect agreement with what has to be done.”
Uncle W. looked skeptical.
“Banquo,” he said reluctantly, “suggests a quest involving you, him, and Arri. He would like Arri to examine Nuicui. In my opinion, Nuicui, once found, can be brought here for Arri’s examination.”
“I see,” said Father, “bear in mind, Winthrop, that I am Arri’s father.”
Uncle Winthrop seemed ready for an argument, but Father did not give it to him.
“Another skill we are in need of is tracking,” he continued, looking at each of us.
“I recommend Mendel for that task,” Nysa spoke up for the first time, her voice barely crossing the room.
“Mendel Westridge, son of Perris Westridge?” he asked.
“You know him?” Uncle W., Nysa, and I asked almost in unison.
Father was looking at Nysa, “I know of him, through you.”
Nysa went very red and hid her face with her hair. “I told you?” she asked.
“You won’t remember it, but I visited you with Jesse on several occasions. You often spoke of Mendel. We took the trouble to learn his exact identity, although given his family it seemed unwise to contact him. Is young Master Westridge here in Rousha?”
“He’s attending the university,” I volunteered.
“Would he be willing to join a quest? I will offer appropriate compensation, of course.”
“I’m sure he’d be delighted. I can ask him tonight,” I said.
Father looked at me surprise.
“I’ll take that into consideration then. Are there any other suggestions?” He looked around at all of us.
“Banquo seconds the recommendation of Mendel,” translated Uncle W., “He has been valuable in the past. I recommend myself.”
Father studied Uncle W.
“What would you like to do?” he asked.
“I spent years in the northern mountains and know them well. I can translate between you and Banquo. Also,” he hesitated, “my knowledge of magical theory is extensive.”
“To be sure,” said Father skeptically, “but what about practice?”
Uncle W. took a deep breath.
“I am practicing again.”
Father looked genuinely surprised.
“Good to hear,” he smiled, “you are right then about your skills being invaluable.”
“Anyone else?” he asked.
“I’m going,” said Gretel at the same time the Nysa said, “I volunteer.”
Father turned to Gretel first, “You, of all people in this room, have the most reason to go, and the most to stay.” Gretel put a hand unconsciously to her belly.
“I can’t use magic,” she admitted, “but not everyone will need magic on this quest.”
Father nodded respectfully. “Including me,” he said.
“Nysa,” he asked, “tell me why you want to come.”
“I am at least as magical as Winthrop,” she darted a look at him, face still red behind her hair, “I am not to be trifled with.” She said firmly.
Father looked at me.
“Arri?”
“I want to go,” I said simply, “I don’t know what I can do.”
He nodded. “Gretel, is there a room where I can have privacy to deliberate?” he asked.

Gretel showed him to my bedroom. Then we all waited tensely, watching evening approach, as he deliberated. Uncle Winthrop, Gretel, and Banquo got in each other’s way as they paced the floor. I went to the kitchen and prepared more sandwiches, though my stomach turned at the thought of eating one.
“Only your father,” said Uncle W. irritably, “could return from five years of memory loss and still assume he is in charge of everything.”
“That’s why King Trunsle made him Captain,” I responded.
Over an hour passed before Father reappeared. He looked pale and tired, eyes bloodshot with stress. He looked us all over carefully. I felt like we should be standing at attention.
“I’m only going assign tasks for the first part of this operation,” he said softly, “because too much depends on its outcome to determine the next step.”
He turned to Gretel and handed her a sealed envelope.
“Gretel,” he said, “your task is to track down Sir Alonzo Raporty. He is retired and probably living in Rousha. Wherever he is, I would like this message hand-delivered by you. Tell him you are Imato’s wife. Mind that you don’t tell him more than you think is necessary. He is not the most discrete of individuals. However, being Grestian by birth, he is the most likely translator for those documents.”
“Then why hasn’t the King tried him yet?” asked Uncle W.
“He was very nearly court-marshaled on several occasions. The king does not think highly of him.”
“Can we trust him?” demanded Gretel.
“For this task, yes,” said Father, “He’s no friend of Greste. Feel free to offer any amount of the Etautca Estate you feel is necessary to get his cooperation. Nysa, I’d like you to accompany Gretel.”
Gretel frowned as she looked at the envelope, but she didn’t protest. Nysa simply nodded.
“Winthrop,” Father continued, “I’d like you to prepare a cloaking spell.”
“Those take over a week to prepare,” said Uncle W., “Can we wait that long?”
“Can you do it?” asked Father, ignoring the question.
“I’ve never used it before,” he admitted, “but, yes, I know a spell for a cloak that will last several hours if needed.”
“Good. I believe we may need it once we cross into Greste.”
Uncle Winthrop grunted in agreement, but he did not look pleased.
Father turned to Banquo.
“The one time I met Nuicui,” he said softly, “she was too shy to more than greet me. Even Jesse rarely heard her speak during their treatments. I think the fewer people we have on this part of the quest the better.”
Banquo nodded.
“In that light, I believe your recommendation of Mendel Westridge and Arri is very appropriate. I would like to leave at first light tomorrow morning, if Master Westridge is obliging.”
Father looked at me.
“Are you okay with this, Arri?” he asked.
“I’ve been on quests before,” I volunteered.
Father looked at me curiously.
“I’d like to hear about them,” he said, “I imagine we’ll have time during the quest. Now, I’d like you or Nysa to go to the university and enlist the help of Master Westridge.”
“I’ll go,” I said, “but aren’t you going to come too?”
Father shook his head. “I,” he informed me, “have another son, and I would like very much to see him.”
“I’ll take you,” said Uncle Winthrop, “Really, I’m surprised he hasn’t come pounding on the door yet.”

The dormitory butler frowned at me. He did not let me in, because it is against university policy to allow ladies to visit young men they are not related to in their dormitories. I was exhausted, feeling like I had been awake for a week rather than a single day. I did not want to argue about propriety with a butler.
“Tell him to come outside,” I said, trying to think of a good reason for the request besides the truth.
“It’s after dark, Miss.”
“I know,” I said. Then, because he looked like he was going to shut the door on me, I put my foot in his way.
He sighed and walked off to the staircase, muttering about impropriety of modern ladies. I waited in the entry. I’m sure Mendel came down the three flights of stairs in a third the time it took the butler to climb them.
“What’s wrong, Arri?” he demanded. I had never visited the dormitory before.
I motioned him outside and we walked under a nearby tree. As quickly as possible I explained the events of the day. Mendel’s blue eyes were wide.
“Arri!” he crowed, “Do you know what you’ve done? You’ve restored the Captain of Elcaro. The whole kingdom will be at your service.”
“I healed my father,” I responded, irritated.
“Yes,” said Mendel, seriously, smiling, “you won’t be so lost anymore.”
I wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. I moved on to more important subject of the quest.
“Can you come?” I asked.
“Can I bring Lexie?” asked Mendel, “This is brilliant! I can work on her training. Just a moment—“ He darted back into the dormitory.
I waited. He was back in a few minutes, careering down the steps so quickly I was afraid he would stumble. In his hand was a small leather pouch. At his side, the rapidly growing Lexie bounded.
“Where’s Lorenzo?” I asked.
“His services are not required on weekends,” Mendel informed me.
He reached into the pouch and removed several leaves. Reciting a spell, he crumpled them and tossed them into the air. To my eyes they drifted aimlessly in the still air. Mendel watching them closely. Lexie whined and sniffed at each leaf as it hit the ground. She picked up one of the largest fragments in her mouth.
“Brilliant,” Mendel breathed in surprise, “she’s nearby.” He put one hand on Lexie’s head and turned it in a southwest direction. “That way, girl. Memorize it.” Lexie barked and squirmed, dropping the leaf.
“Nearby?” I asked.
Mendel nodded. “Less than a day’s journey, I bet. We might not even miss any class.”
I looked in the direction Mendel had pointed Lexie.
“Arri,” continued Mendel, “I assume you’re taking Sprigs, but what about your Father? Reynard?”
I hadn’t considered that yet.
“Gretel will need Reynard,” I said, slowly.
“Good. Offer Asus to Captain Etautca. It will save the trouble of getting one from the army stables without explaining yourself.”
“Thank you, Mendel,” I said.
Mendel smiled happily.
From Mendel’s apartment, I took Sprigs as fast as I dared to Uncle Winthrop’s apartment. As I let myself in the door, I heard laughter. Father was sitting with Liop on the couch listening to an enthusiastic description of everything he and Keaton saw and did at the museum with you in Adya. Liop was switched into Grestian from time-to-time, apparently delighted with Father’s ability to understand him. I stood in the doorway, waiting for them to notice me.
“Arri,” shouted Liop after a few minutes, “Did you know Father speaks Grestian, and he’s been Iconei when he was a teenager!”
“On an exchange program for squires,” said Father, sounding amused.
“Did you tell him about the fairies?” I asked, amused.
“That was last year,” said Liop dismissively, “I haven’t told him about the chickens yet!”
“Where are Uncle W. and Nysa?” I asked.
“They’re with Gretel,” said Father, “I think they’ll be back soon though.”
I grabbed paper and ink, although trying to write you with Father and Liop in the room was very distracting.
“Tomorrow,” began Liop eagerly, “I’ll take you to Uncle W.’s laboratory. You should see the fireworks!”
“Liop,” Father interrupted, and I was surprised to hear his voice catch, “your brother Imato is in trouble and I have to help him tomorrow.”
Liop went very still. So did I.
“Was there a battle?” he asked.
“No,” said Father, “but the Grestians have him at their capital and I must go free him.”
“He was captured?”
“Yes.”
“What will they do with him?”
“Nothing, Liop. They’re waiting for me to come get him.”
“I’ll come too!”
“No, Liop,” said Father, “you can’t.”
Liop stared. Silent tears started in the corners of his eyes and steaked downward. “Please don’t leave me,” he said, “I don’t want to be left alone.”
Father put his arms around him. For a few minutes there was silence. Father looked at me. Our eyes were no drier than Liop’s.
“Winthrop is right, Arri,” said Father softly, “This is a family concern.” He put his face up to Liop’s.
“We won’t leave you,” he promised.

I’ve been writing so long that my hand is sore and it is very late. This must be the longest letter I’ve ever written. It surprised me that when they heard Liop was coming with us, Uncle W. and Nysa said nothing. They did not demand to come too. Father and I returned to Gretel’s house for bed. Gretel told us that Emily was staying with Cook’s family for the time being, until Gretel and Nysa return from delivering the message. At dawn tomorrow morning we will all meet on the southwest edge of town. Father, Mendel, Banquo, Liop, and I will leave to find Nuicui. Gretel and Nysa will leave to find Sir Raporty. Uncle W. will begin preparing the cloaking spell.
I have to go to bed now, though I hardly know how to sleep. This letter will have to be lightened and divided between Hermes and Clotho. I am exhausted, Keish, but not at all sleepy.
I have my father back.

Love,
Arri

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