“We were discussing patching the Veil,” Jerrol said.
Immediately she tilted her head. Jerrol followed her gaze, but all he could see was a swirling mist above them. He looked back down and found her watching him. “Could you patch it?”
“It would only be temporary. The Captain would have to go and seal it.” A third voice joined the conversation.
“But could you patch it unnoticed?” Jerrol asked.
Her lips twitched. “Is that a wager I hear? What is my reward if I do?”
“If you’re lucky you live.” The man walking forward had dark red hair and an expressive face. He was grinning at Saerille, his cheeks all dimples and his silver eyes sparkling.
Saerille scowled over her shoulder. “And you can promise that, Tagerillion? I think that is the Captain’s promise to speak. Can you offer that? That I get to live?” She turned back to face Jerrol.
Jerrol froze as he watched Tagerillion; no wonder Birlerion had been excited. Birlerion’s brother did not look like him at all, though his resemblance to Versillion was uncanny. Jerrol stared at the Sentinals before him, tall and strong and very intense. He swallowed as he considered all three Sentinals. “I think that is not something I would offer you, Saerille.” He spoke slowly, catching the tightening around her eyes and the growing frowns on the men’s faces. “It would be something that I offered to all Sentinals; as your Captain, I look to you all, not just one.”
“Well said.” Tagerillion slapped him on the shoulder, a grin spreading over his face. “Well said!”
Jerrol relaxed. “Someone is waiting to see you.”
Tagerillion looked over his shoulder, and his face lit up. “Birler,” he gasped, and he rushed past Jerrol.
They shimmered into the grove where Tagerillion was hugging Birlerion.
“Let the lad breathe,” Chryllion said, his voice gruff as he watched their reunion.
Tagerillion released his brother. His face was wreathed in smiles. “This is my brother Birler, known as Birlerion.” His face darkened. “Birlerion, what happened? We couldn’t find you.”
“It was chaotic, Tage, you couldn’t have found anyone.” Birlerion rubbed a shaky hand over his face. “The Lady called,” he said.
“And she calls again now,” Jerrol said gently, watching the young Sentinal struggling to regain his composure. And he was young; having the older Sentinals beside him accentuated his youth, a fact disguised by his usual air of assurance and self-reliance. Jerrol glanced around the grove, but he couldn’t see Taelia anywhere.
“She left,” Birlerion said. “She said she couldn’t stay.”
Jerrol grimaced. “I have no idea how she’s doing it. She keeps turning up when I least expect it.”
“The Lady sees,” Birlerion replied with an enigmatic shrug.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jerrol said as he noticed the Sentinals watching them. Jerrol gave them a summary of the situation in Stoneford. “I know it’s a shock, but anything you can tell me about the Ascendants would be a help. It seems they have returned.”
“They can’t have, the Lady took them with her,” Tagerill said immediately.
“She was supposed to have taken you with her, but you’re still here, sort of,” Jerrol pointed out.
Tagerill grinned; he was irrepressible. “There’s no sort of about it, we are here. Who else is around?”
“Only you three and Birlerion. Though I know Versillion still sleeps in Greens,” Jerrol admitted, watching them. They seemed to be accepting the situation very easily. He wondered if they understood what it meant.
Tagerillion turned to Birlerion. “You’ve seen Versillion, is he alright? What about Marianille?”
“Versillion is still asleep, but at least we know where he is. Marianille is still missing; she isn’t in Vespers. There are no other Sentinals in Vespers.”
“And Serillion?”
“He still sleeps at the Grove in Greens.”
Tagerill released his breath. “Well, that is good news, at least.”
Chryllion spoke up, his face grave. “How can we help, Captain?”
Jerrol rubbed his face and stared at them, a pulse beating rapidly under his eye. “Saerille, I need you to patch the Veil as best as you can until I can get back up there. Do not be seen and do not get caught.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied.
“Chryllion, I need you to stay here and reinforce Lord Jason at Stoneford Keep. You will be responsible for maintaining the keep and the grove until Saerille returns. When you return, Saerille, you help Chryllion and Lord Jason as needed.”
Saerille grinned as Chryllion nodded assent and adjusted his broad sword.
“What about me?” Tagerillion waited expectantly, a grin on his face.
“You,” Jerrol said, relaxing, inordinately comfortable in his company, “will come with Birlerion and me. I need backup, and you are it.” He poked Tagerillion in the chest. “I have a price on my head, and I am fed up with assassins trying to collect it! I need to return to the King and report, and you are going to make sure I get there.”
Tagerillion immediately stood to attention and struck his chest, serious for the first time since he had appeared. “As you command, Captain.” Then he paused. “King?”
“King Benedict of Vespiri,” Jerrol said. He took stock of the Sentinals standing before him in their archaic uniforms, tall and mysterious, and if the legends were right, from a different time when gods walked the land. “Umm, I’m not sure how to tell you this, but the Lady is no longer here. She vanished when she sundered the Bloodstone, taking you, or so we thought, and the Ascendants with her.”
“That’s not possible.” Tagerillion took a step back.
“I’m afraid it is. This is the year 4124.”
Chryllion spoke up. “You said the Lady took us all with her?”
“That’s been the legend for over three thousand years. When the Lady destroyed the Bloodstone all her Sentinals disappeared, and trees like these,” he gestured at the graceful Sentinals, “appeared overnight across
