Spear of Destiny by James Baldwin (little bear else holmelund minarik .TXT) 📕

spring and camp out next to it for a night or two. There’s a place nearby I go to hunt, too. We can just… be together for a while. You and me, and no one else.”

I closed my eyes against the wind. “I couldn’t think of any better way to handle your time of the month, Tidbit. Let’s do it.”

***

We fell into a comfortable silence for the rest of the trip. The flight gave me time to recharge, and to think about our next goal: the reclamation of Withering Rose. With a weapon like her on our side—fully repaired, fueled and armed—even Ororgael would give pause before striking at Vlachia. In my dreams Rin and Soma worked some miracle and we were able to fix Nocturne Lament and arm Vlachia’s warships with weapons that could knock our enemies out of the air. Ororgael would have to slow his roll and replan his next moves, because he sure as hell wasn’t going to win through attrition.

I was feeling pretty good by the time Kalla Sahasi was in sight, and even better when I zoomed in and saw how much work had been done on it in the six days we’d been away. The broken tower was still missing a roof, but most of the walls were back up. The Lord’s Tower was completely repaired, as was the curtain wall and the gatehouse. When we landed, it was on fresh slate, free of moss and broken stones. The scaffolding had moved: volunteers were working on the cornicing and other decorative features.

“Wow!” Karalti exclaimed, craning her neck as she turned to stare. “The castle looks amazing!”

I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face as I dismounted, shaking my head in wonder. “I… yeah. Wow is the only word for it.”

I bought up my castle map. Most of the major facilities were back up and running, save for the War Room, Library, and Court Mage’s Oratory, all of which were features of the tower that was still being fixed. Our bakery, kitchens, granaries, and barracks were all online. Kalla Sahasi probably hadn’t looked this good in a hundred years.

There was a cheerful whistle from behind us. I turned slightly to see Istvan bounce out of one of the gatehouse doors. He looked relaxed and happy, his hair worn loose down his back. He’d switched his usual coat and brigandine for a nicer shirt. I’d rarely ever seen him without his armor.

“Heya, man. How’s things?” I clapped my hand into his when he came to a stop. “The place is looking great.”

“It’s like a dream come true,” Istvan replied. “This place was my home for years, and with the exception of a few structural repairs, I’ve never seen the old battleaxe look better. Was your mission a success?”

“Sure seems like it,” I replied. “Let’s go find someone to sit down and have a drink and a bite to eat. Karalti? Want to join us?”

“I’m going to polymorph and go sleep in our room.” She lifted one of her feet as she stretched her wing out, yawning wide. “It’s been a long week. Come snuggle with me when you’re done?”

“Happily.” I rubbed her ankle, then turned back to Istvan. “All yours.”

“The parlor in the gatehouse has been restored,” Istvan said, beckoning me to follow him. “As have the steward’s quarters and the butlery, thank the gods. Rudolph and I are both glad to have our own rooms.”

“For sure.” I fell into step with him as he headed for the entry to the gatehouse. “Is Vash back yet?”

“I received a letter from him yesterday. They’re almost ready with the next shipment,” Istvan said, holding the door for me and following me up the stairs behind it. “They focused on removing the gold and coinage first. According to him, they will be excavating the rest of the goods there for at least a full month.”

My eyebrows shot up. A month was a long period of time to complete a task in Archemi.

“It has to do with the delicacy and care required to retrieve the grave goods.” Istvan seemed to read my mind as he opened the door ahead of me. “Vash, being who and what he is, is guiding the excavation team in the proper handling of the dead. There are Tuun warriors buried down there with them, did you know that?”

“Yeah. There’s some kind of relationship between the Tuun and the Solonkratsu and tulaq that was lost in time,” I said. “All three were here in Vlachia several thousand years earlier than most historians believe.”

Istvan’s mouth quirked in a small smile as we climbed the stairs. “I didn’t realize you were a student of history.”

“‘Student’ implies commitment. I’m more like a slime-mold of history, passively absorbing information as I crawl around in swamps and caves.” I marveled at the gothic corridor we entered at the top of the stairs. The craftsmen had used contrasting dark and light stone for the walls and doorways, and the floor had been finished in white mosaic, inlaid with a repeating design of dragons in flight. “I can’t believe how much work the people here have done. This is incredible.”

“This is how they wished to show you their gratitude,” Istvan said. “Believe it or not, you have already done more for Karhad and Myszno than Lord Bolza did in twenty years.”

I let out a brief laugh. “What? Really?”

“Yes. Lord Bolza was a just and fair man, but he was not a reformist,” Istvan replied. “He was heavily invested in his heritage as one of Myszno’s founding families, and thus, he favored policy which reinforced the status-quo. Poor people remained poor, rich people remained rich, and neither had much affinity for the other. You have indicated by word and deed that you are approachable in the way that my lord never was. Not only that, but you drove the