in many of the other camps. Along with the Monts, they had been the toughest of their people.
'Your mother's kin were from the Rock, Finnikin,' Cibrian said.
Finnikin nodded. 'I spent most of my childhood there, with my great-aunt, except when my father was on leave.'
'Have you crossed their paths on your travels? I have a sister wed to the shoemaker of the Rock.'
'I remember him well,' Finnikin said with a smile. 'But we have encountered few from the Rock Village. We think that most stayed when the elders gave the order. I doubt that any of them left the kingdom unless they were in the square that day.'
'It is hard to say whether that is a blessing or a curse,' Emmian said quietly.
Cibrian led them to the rest of his people, and Finnikin exchanged nods of acknowledgment with a group of exiles his own age. Seeing them made him think of Balthazar and Lucian, imagining the lads they would have grown up to be.
A sprinkle of rain began to fall, and they followed Cibrian to his dwelling. The exiles were well equipped. Their tents were made of tough horse hide; there were plenty of provisions and even a few goats. Finnikin suspected that some of the exiles had found work in the nearest village. The children seemed healthier than most camp children, and he wondered if there was a healer among them.
'We have been lucky this spring to have received the benevolence of Lord August of the Flatlands, an acquaintance of yours, I hear,' Cibrian said to Sir Topher. 'He requested that we look out for the son of Trevanion and the king's First Man.'
Sir Topher exchanged a glance with Finnikin. 'Why is it that Lord August finds himself in Charyn when he belongs to the Belegonian court?' he asked.
'Palace business. He was on his way home when he paid us a visit. He asked that you pass through the Belegonian capital if you were in these parts.'
'It is our intention to travel south into Sorel,' Sir Topher said.
'He was very definite in his request, sir.'
Emmian and Cibrian's tent was large. Two children, no more than eight or ten, lay in the corner. They soon scampered across the space to join their parents. Finnikin watched Emmian gather them against her, her fingers lingering on their arms. These children were loved. He looked over to where the thief of Sarnak sat in a huddle of hate alongside the novice and could not help but make a comparison.
The little girl was looking at him with wide eyes. 'Can you tell us the story of Lady Beatriss and Captain Trevanion?' she asked.
The adults stiffened, their expressions a mixture of alarm and guilt. Finnikin remembered how much Lumaterans enjoyed a romance. He had grown up hearing over and over again the story of the young king who went riding through the mountains and encountered a wild Mont girl who captured his heart. He had not realized that Beatriss and Trevanion's story had ignited the same interest.
'They are tired, Jenna. They don't have time for telling stories,' her father said abruptly.
Finnikin watched as every adult in the tent looked away or busied themselves with the nothingness of their lives. It was as if the child's request had never been made. Even Sir Topher was focusing on the river outside, and suddenly Finnikin felt lonely for his father, a luxury he rarely allowed himself.
But Evanjalin was staring at him, refusing to look away. There was something in her expression, a question in her eyes, that made him clear his throat.
'It was a fierce love,' he said gruffly. 'Very fierce.'
The little girl's cheeks flushed with pleasure, while the shoulders of the boy slumped with disappointment. The same way Finnikin's would whenever he had to sit through his great-aunt Celestina's ramblings about the wedding vows spoken by the king to his Mont girl. Finnikin would have much preferred to hear about the jousting and fencing entertainment provided by the King's Guard as a part of the celebrations.
'But I need to go back further, if you will let me,' he said to the boy. 'To the time when Trevanion of the River defended his people with just one mighty sword and forty dedicated men!'
Evanjalin bit her lip as if holding back a laugh, and he found himself grinning. The young boy sat up, a look of excitement on his face. He nodded, willing Finnikin to continue.
'My father was once a lowly foot soldier. As a young man, he watched each year as the barbarians, who lived far beyond the borders of Skuldenore, came down his beloved river with dragonships that seemed to appear from out of the sky. First they would raid Sarnak to our north, and then Lumatere. They were brutal, these foreigners, plunderers of the worst kind.'
'Did they take their tents and food?' the boy asked eagerly, and for a moment Finnikin saw a glimpse of Balthazar's face in his expression. It made him numb with sadness and he failed to find the words to continue.
He heard a small sound, like the clearing of a throat, and glanced up to see Evanjalin. She had a look in her eye as if she somehow understood, and he found his voice once more.
'They took gold, of course,' he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. 'And silver. Lumatere had the best mines in the land and became the barbarian invaders' dream. Unfortunately the king had inherited a lazy, cowardly Guard headed by his cousin, who made it easy for the foreigners to do what they liked.'
'Where was Trevanion?' the little girl asked.
'He was protecting a worthless duke on the Flatlands. But things changed in his twentieth year. The barbarians returned and decided that gold and silver were not enough. They would take the young people of the river to work as slaves in their land. The older ones who tried to stop them died in battle. That's how Trevanion lost his parents and sisters. During the same time, my mother died in childbirth, so you can imagine his fury and sadness.
'One day when the king was visiting the worthless duke, Trevanion pushed past the Guard and stood face- to-face with the leader of the kingdom. He demanded to know what the king was going to do about protecting his people. Little did he know, the king would toss and turn each night, feeling helpless in his palace while his river was plundered and his people were taken. But what could a king with a weak Guard do? He had Trevanion arrested, of course.'
'Did they torture him?' the boy asked in a hushed tone.
'No. The king had a plan. Each night, while pretending to demand an apology, he would speak to Trevanion about the barbarian invaders and his lazy Guard. Trevanion made him a promise. If the king released him, he would choose forty of the best fighters in Lumatere and put an end to the annual plundering, and the king agreed.
'Trevanion was ruthless in training his men, but it was worth it. One year later, when the barbarians returned, they failed to conquer Trevanion's river. By the time he was twenty-one, he was made captain of the Guard. His men were fearless warriors, and the country stayed safe. No one dared to challenge Trevanion's Guard. Even the Monts kept quiet and out of trouble, and everyone knows how hard it is to keep the Monts under control.'
'But what happened to the other captain of the Guard? The king's cousin?' the boy asked.
Finnikin heard an intake of breath, and he knew it was not right to mention the impostor king to these children. But the adults knew the rest of the story. The cousin of the king had been offered a place in the Charyn royal court, where he waited for the next ten years for a chance to take the throne of Lumatere.
'Don't you want to hear about Trevanion and Lady Beatriss?'
'Oh, yes, please,' the little girl begged.
'Are you sure? Because perhaps the story about Trevanion working at the palace as the new captain will bore you.' He directed his remark to the young boy, who shook his head solemnly. 'This is where Lady Beatriss comes into it. From the outside, she seemed fragile. She was a novice of Lagrami, as most of the privileged girls were. They were taught to be good wives. To be accomplished. I've heard some say it was a weakness for the captain to fall in love with such an indulged child of Lumatere. But Trevanion saw more in her than most.'
'She was almost as beautiful as the princesses,' Emmian murmured.
'No one was as beautiful as the princesses.' The voice came from one of the exiles standing outside. Finnikin saw that, despite the drizzle of rain, he had acquired an audience.
'Trevanion would disagree. But that wasn't always the case. You see, Lady Beatriss was the nursemaid of Balthazar and Isaboe, as well as being a loyal friend to the three older princesses. Now, I will be the first to admit that the royal children, and me included, did not make Beatriss's task easy. Balthazar and Isaboe were very... shall we say, high-spirited at times? They had little fear of anything and spent many a day hanging out of the tower of
