“I’m sorry,” Caura murmured.
Jenns tried to smile.
“So the Queen called us back-I still don’t know how she got the Lord General to listen. They put the Lord General up before the Tribunal and sent him to Dreadhold, gave all the units below him drudge duty as far from the borders as possible, and that was that. Two years I’ve been in the army now, and that one assault into the Reaches is my only combat engagement. And that doesn’t bother me a bit.”
“And then, out of nowhere, you’re mobilized and sent to the middle of nowhere on the coast, no idea why, and you learn that the Lord General’s back and about to violate the treaty again, and you want no part of it.”
“Pretty much. Though I’m less concerned about the treaty than I am about the bears.”
“Not to mention the dragons,” Caura added.
“Please don’t mention them again.” He smiled.
“So you fled in panic, without taking the time to put a plan together?”
“Well, yeah. I figured I had to get out before we started to march.”
“What?” Caura sat up. “I thought we weren’t marching for another week yet.”
“You didn’t hear? No, the orders came down just before you found me in the camp. I guess it wasn’t widely known yet, since most people were still asleep. Change of plans, straight from the Lord General.”
Change of plans, Caura thought. So everything I learned is useless.
“What’s wrong?” Jenns asked, his voice full of concern.
I am really slipping tonight, Caura thought. He must have seen me scowl. Control, Caura-it’s all about control.
She smiled, erasing the tension from her face. “I must just be tired,” she said. “It’s been a long day, and I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“You sleep, then. I’ll keep watch.”
“Don’t bother. I’m a very light sleeper. I’ll hear anything coming through the woods toward us. And if you’re walking around on watch, I won’t get any sleep.”
“All right, then. It won’t be the first time today I’ve put my life in your hands.”
Caura returned his smile, then pulled her cloak around her and lay down facing the fire. She closed her eyes and felt the exhaustion grip her, pulling at her consciousness and stilling every movement of her body.
“Caura?”
Her eyes shot open.
“I’m sorry,” Jenns said. “I just wanted to thank you.”
“I’m glad for your company, Jenns. We’ll make plans in the morning.”
“Good night.”
“Night.”
Poor boy, Caura thought.
She stood by the fire, looking down at Jenns as he slept. She thought he looked like a child, though he was only ten years her junior-his body curled tightly around the warmth of the dying fire, his face unlined, untroubled.
How long will you search for Caura Fannam? she wondered. Will you think I’ve been kidnapped or killed, like a fool? Or are you smart enough to discern the truth?
“Safe travels, Jenns,” she whispered. His brow twitched, and Caura hurried away, afraid he might awaken.
As she walked, she made herself a new person, ensuring that neither Jenns nor anyone from Haldren’s camp would ever find a Caura Fannam in all Khorvaire. Of course, Haldren might suspect he was searching for a changeling, but that wouldn’t make it any easier to find the spy who had been in his midst so long.
Constrained by armor made to fit Caura’s slender body, the changeling decided on a male elf-fewer hearts got bruised when he took male forms, it seemed. Elf eyes were hard to do right, especially without a mirror, but he enjoyed the challenge. He decided on long hair, raven and straight, figuring he’d braid it back when he got a chance. A slim but muscular body, pushing at the limits of the armor. He found a strap he could loosen to give him more room in the chest-room in the right places, anyway. He sketched the face-bright blue eyes in an almond shape, chin a little angular, smooth, fair skin, high cheekbones. He’d fix details when he found some still water or a mirror. He hated traveling without a mirror, but he had left Haldren’s camp rather abruptly.
That would do for the time, he decided. Except for a name. He passed the time as he hurried through the night turning name ideas over in his mind. By the time the sun came up, he’d settled on Vauren as a given name, and fell back on a family name he’d used as an elf before-Hennalan. Vauren Hennalan. It was funny, he reflected, how the name he chose shaped the persona he adopted. Vauren shared its consonants with the name of a paladin he’d known, lifetimes ago it seemed, and that made him want to act nobly. The last time he’d been a Hennalan, he had been a little mischievous, though, so those two streams flowed together and began to shape a personality for him.
Crafting a personality took a lot longer than shaping a face and body. He hadn’t really had time to figure Caura out. That seemed to be the time when he was most vulnerable: while he was still deciding what kind of person to be, he was faced with temptation to be the kind of person who opened up, who shared secrets, who cared about people. That probably explained his slips at the camp-fire the night before.
Perhaps Vauren wasn’t the best name. How could he be as noble as the name demanded and still be a spy?
CHAPTER 34
Gaven!” Rienne rushed forward and gathered him in her arms, trying to get him back to his feet. He seemed unconscious, and he was probably twice her weight even after his stay in Dreadhold. She glanced around, frantic for anyone who could help, but the Morning Zephyr seemed deserted. Worse, flames began to engulf the upper deck, spreading out from the hole Gaven had blasted through it. “Gaven, you’ve got to help me get you out of here.”
He didn’t stir, and Ossa and the human were too far away to help. Rienne took a deep breath, steadied herself on one knee, and slid her weight beneath Gaven, shifting his limp body onto her shoulder. She groaned. “I must be out of practice, because I know you haven’t gotten any heavier.”
The heat stung her eyes and face, and she heard the deck creaking beneath her. “Here we go.” She tried to imagine she was deflecting a charging enemy, using his momentum to throw him, but the only momentum Gaven had was what she gave him. So she leaned forward as much as she dared, then quickly rocked back, using the movement of his body to roll her up onto her feet. She staggered backward under the weight, but managed to find her balance.
Something gave way, and the airship rolled hard to starboard, nearly throwing Rienne back into the flame- ringed hole in the deck. Just trying to keep her feet beneath her got her moving, and she managed to run around the shattered planks to reach the starboard bulwark and struggle over it. Her feet kicked open air. With Gaven on her shoulder, she couldn’t see how far she was above the ground, so she tried to brace herself for a hard landing and protect Gaven as much as she could.
To her surprise, the ground wasn’t far at all. Her feet hit first, and she toppled forward, sending Gaven sprawling. The impact knocked the breath out of her. She rolled onto her back to look at the inferno behind her. The airship’s hull started collapsing under its own weight, devoured by flames, but she had landed clear of the snapping timbers and leaping flames. She fought to fill her lungs again, panted to catch her breath, then scrambled over to where Gaven lay. The position of his limbs looked awkward, and his head seemed twisted around too far-panic rose in her throat.
“Sovereigns, no, he can’t be dead,” she said.
He coughed weakly, and she breathed again. Eyes still closed, he turned his head to a more natural position and shifted one leg.
She clutched his face, leaning in close. “Gaven? Wake up, Gaven.”
To her amazement and relief, his eyes fluttered open. It was a moment before recognition registered on his
