Flame passed by. A few waved toward Aeren, the lord nodding in their direction. They skirted the marketplace, swept past the temple of Aielan, one of the acolytes outside pausing as he brushed snow from the stone window ledges. He genuflected toward the Flame, Siobhaen returning the gesture.
Then they passed outside the town into the fields beyond. Sunlight broke through the layer of clouds, blazing harshly on the snow, and Colin raised one hand to shade his eyes. To the left, the lake gleamed a deep blue, riddled with waves from a brisk wind from the west. As soon as they cleared the outskirts of the town, Vaeren picked up the pace, taking them west along the road as it curved around the water. The wind struck Colin full in the face, burning his skin raw, until they reached the shelter of the cedar and pine trees beyond.
After that, Colin pulled up the hood of his cloak and settled in for the ride, nearly everyone else following suit.
They rode for three days, angling northwest as soon as the roads allowed. On the fourth day, they entered Nuant House lands, the maroon-and-gold House colors supplanting the blue and red of Rhyssal. Away from Aeren’s lands, the lord received more piercing looks and second glances, but it was the Order that caught and held nearly everyone’s attention. The only connection the commoners had to the Order was through their acolytes in the local temples. Seeing the Order of the Flame passing through their village caused a stir. More than one acolyte emerged from his temple to offer the group a place to rest and refresh before continuing on their journey. Vaeren rarely accepted, except when Siobhaen caught his attention and murmured something for his ears only. On these occasions, Siobhaen spent most of her time within the temple, kneeling before the small basins that mimicked the large one in the Sanctuary back in Caercaern. The acolytes would hastily fill the basin with oil, perform a short ritual, and then light the basin so that Siobhaen and the other members of the Flame could pray before it. Always at the end of her prayers, Siobhaen would remove a pouch from her satchel and toss something into the flames, the acolytes in attendance gasping as the fires in the basin burned a harsh, brilliant white. Then she’d run her fingers through the soot beneath the basin and mark her face before rising, the others often doing the same.
“She’s solidifying their ties to the temple,” Aeren said at the third such temple, even as he genuflected while the flames were burning white.
“What do you mean?” Colin asked. He knew the ritual she performed, had studied it in the Sanctuary before being allowed to pass through Aielan’s Light beneath the mountain. It was a simple enough rite, one used to calm the observer, to center them so that the problems they faced might be made clearer. It was one of the basic rituals of the Scripts, although it did not require the basin actually be lit, and the addition of the white flames generally only occurred at significant bondings or rituals.
As the white flames died, returning to normal, the acolytes murmuring to each other in awe and excitement, Aeren turned away, his brow troubled. “She’s using the ritual and the white flames to remind the acolytes of their ties to the Order, their ties to Lotaern and the Flame. There’s no need for the theatrics otherwise. These acolytes all trained in the Sanctuary at one point. She’s reminding them of their time in Caercaern, of their loyalties.
“And these acolytes will spread that to the common people in this area.”
“But why does Lotaern want them to remember?”
Aeren shook his head. “I don’t know. But I’ve learned through the course of the years that Lotaern does nothing without a purpose. He feels he’s going to need the commoners’ support for something soon. Siobhaen did not stop at any of the temples before you reached Artillien?”
“No. Why? What are you thinking?”
They watched as Siobhaen and the others circulated among the gathered acolytes and villagers who happened to be in or near the temple when they arrived.
“I’m wondering what changed in Artillien that prompted them to begin this… little campaign,” he finally murmured.
“We need to find out,” Eraeth said.
Colin thought back to his first conversation with Siobhaen, on the road down from Caercaern, when she thought he despised the Alvritshai. “Perhaps we shouldn’t isolate ourselves anymore.” When Aeren and Eraeth looked at him, he added, “We’ve separated ourselves into two groups: the Flame and Rhyssal House. For the last few days we’ve eaten separately, traveled separately, even slept in separate rooms or sides of the outposts. We need to mingle more.”
Eraeth grimaced in distaste, while Aeren’s eyebrows rose. “They haven’t been overly friendly toward us since Artillien.”
“And we haven’t been overly friendly toward them. The distrust is mutual.”
One of Aeren’s Phalanx coughed lightly and they turned to see Vaeren approaching. The caitan nodded, the rest of the Flame preparing to depart behind him. “We are finished here.”
“Very well,” Aeren said.
Vaeren hesitated and frowned, as if he sensed something hidden in the tone of Aeren’s voice, or in the slightly awkward silence that had settled over the Rhyssal House contingent. Then he shook his head and turned, motioning the Flame outside.
They reached an outpost near dusk, the wayside stop nothing more than a stone hut a few paces from the road tucked into a niche beside a stream of snowmelt, its wooden roof covered in dark green moss beneath dangling cedar branches. Colin scanned the mountains, a hand shading his eyes, the sun a burnt orange glow to the west. He called out to where Vaeren and a few others in the group were refilling their waterskins. “We’ll stop here for the night.”
Vaeren stood, looking toward the setting sun. “We could make the next village, perhaps even the next outpost.”
Colin shook his head. “We’re close to the pass now and it’s getting dark. We’ll have to leave the road tomorrow, after leaving the horses in the village.”
Vaeren eyed him for a long moment, suspicion touching the corners of his mouth, but then he waved to the other members of the Flame, who had begun to remount. “Unpack your saddlebags. Boreaus, hunt us something decent to go with what the acolytes gifted us at the last temple. Petraen, gather some wood for a fire. Siobhaen, take care of the horses.”
All three hesitated, trading confused looks, but the two brothers shrugged and hauled their gear from their horses before handing the reins to Siobhaen. Boreaus drew a short bow from a cylindrical case, leaped the small stream, and vanished into the woods to the north. Petraen headed in the opposite direction, scrambling up a small embankment before the trees claimed him.
Aeren dismounted at Colin’s side. “Is there another reason we’re stopping early?” he muttered under his breath as he began working at the ties of his bags.
“We need to learn more about Vaeren and the Flame. I’d rather do it on this side of the mountains, where the weather is calmer and the terrain is decent, than in the White Wastes. If we reach the town, the Flame will join the acolytes in the temple and we’ll lose our opportunity.”
Aeren grunted in agreement, then passed a silent command to Eraeth.
The Protector turned immediately toward where the other three Phalanx members were unsaddling their own horses. A moment later, two were headed off after Petraen, the third stringing his own bow as he followed Boreaus. Eraeth himself drew their horses closer to where Siobhaen had already begun combing the Flames’ horses’ flanks. She gave him one hard, suspicious glance as he began pulling saddles from the Phalanx mounts’ backs, then resumed her work.
Vaeren had vanished inside the stone hut.
“I’ll go check on Vaeren,” Colin said.
Aeren nodded. “And I’ll join Eraeth and Siobhaen with the horses.” He muttered something under his breath as his own mount snorted and stamped its foot against the stone of the roadway. One hand brushed the animal’s neck in a long soothing motion.
The lord caught Colin’s look. “Why are you smiling?”
“I was just thinking about when we first met on the plains. You shied away from our horses then. You were terrified of them.”
Aeren’s eyebrows rose. “They were strange and terrifying beasts. And I was young.”
Colin shook his head, then grabbed his staff from his own mount and headed toward the hut.
As he ducked inside, Vaeren looked up from where he used a branch to clean out a fire pit sunken into the
