“Sounds like you’ve got your own intelligence network going,” Khollo observed. “What do we need Leon for?”
Dari laughed. “His network does more than mine. You should look in on him. He’s lost a lot of scouts this season and it’s taking a toll.” She hesitated, frowning slightly. “He’s not a young man anymore.”
Khollo nodded gravely. “I’ll check on him, catch up on the news. But I need breakfast first.”
“Well, you know your way around,” Dari said, smiling again. “Help yourself.”
“Thank you,” Khollo called as the elderly cook bustled away. He quickly claimed several slices of bacon and a bowl of porridge. He passed over the bread, for it brought back painful memories of his days with Ezraan.
Khollo ate alone at the back table he had so often shared with Sermas and Hern. The kitchen staff hardly paid him any notice, but he noticed several glancing out the windows repeatedly, as though to reassure themselves that the dragon in the courtyard was not about to go on a fiery killing spree.
It was strange being back, Khollo reflected. So much was the same. But he felt there was a new distance between him and his old friends, even between him and Janis. Nobody seemed quite sure what to make of the young man who had risen to a leadership position in the fortress, vanished, then returned astride a fire-breathing dragon. Had he changed so much in just the few weeks he had been gone?
The young warrior finished his meal and made his way to the council chamber high above, where he expected to find Janis and Leon, perhaps even Ondus. The guards at the door started to block his path, then almost as quickly stepped aside and gestured for him to let himself in. Khollo did so, shutting the door almost silently behind him.
The council room had not changed at all, much to Khollo’s relief. The same table stood in the center of the space, ringed by the same chairs. Piles of reports and maps were still stacked haphazardly all along its length, threatening to bury the furniture entirely.
The same men were sitting around the table too: Janis and Leon, in the same chairs they had occupied so many times during long meetings to try and predict the vertaga movements.
Janis and Leon were sitting at the far end of the table, as usual, discussing something in low voices. When Khollo entered, they looked up, almost guiltily. Then, realizing it was Khollo, they relaxed and smiled. Or at least, Janis smiled. Leon wore a dour expression, and he was slumped over in his chair slightly, his shoulders rounded by the weight of grief and loss. Dari had been right: the old man seemed to be fading. Maybe the same people were not sitting around the oaken table after all. The war was changing them.
“So you are alive,” Leon said, smiling thinly. “Congratulations, lad. Janis was just telling me you had returned to the fortress.”
“Have a good hunt yesterday?” Janis asked, gesturing for Khollo to take his usual seat.
Khollo walked around the table to his chair and sank into it, sighing. “We found a herd of deer to the West, on Sermas’ recommendation. Said the Reoth hunters had sighted them not too long ago.”
“Aye, I remember it, the fortress ate well that night,” Janis replied.
Khollo turned to Leon. “It’s good to see you again,” he said tentatively.
Leon gave a wry, twisted smile. “I don’t hardly believe that. This decrepit old wreck of a man isn’t exactly a sight for sore eyes.”
Khollo noticed that Janis stiffened, frowning slightly. He shifted uncomfortably. “I know it has been a hard season,” he said finally. “We have lost many good men in this war, men who should have lived many more years. But they knew the risks, and they kept fighting anyways. Their courage and dedication is a testament to your leadership, Leon.”
“I appreciate you pinning the blame for their deaths squarely on my shoulders,” Leon growled.
“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Khollo replied evenly. “The point is, we’ve lost friends. We’ve lost comrades. But there is still a lot to fight for.” Khollo leaned forward, fixing the older man with a penetrating stare. “Don’t throw all of that away by giving up before this is ended.”
Leon flinched slightly, averting his eyes. Janis’ expression remained neutral, but as Khollo rose and moved to the windows looking out over the surrounding land, the young warrior felt his uncle’s eyes on him, appraising him. The view from the windows had changed. To the north at least. The walls and snowy fields were very small from this height, but Khollo could make out dark figures scrambling about on the wall, waving to each other.
“What in the world?” Khollo muttered, shading his eyes. A team of men was working at the base of the wall as well, moving vast quantities of dirt with picks and shovels.
“What is it?” Janis asked, joining him at the window. The older warrior frowned at the industry below, then nodded knowingly.
“Sermas and Hern,” he said, grinning. “They’re working on rigging some kind of trap for any vertaga that attack the north wall during the battle.”
“Oh. What sort of trap?” Khollo asked casually.
“They wouldn’t tell you?”
“No.”
“Pity. They wouldn’t tell me either.”
“And you still gave them permission to go ahead with their scheme?” Khollo asked incredulously.
“I trust them,” Janis replied.
“Me too, but I still want to know what they’re up to.” Khollo tore his gaze away from the workers below and returned to the table in the center of the room, where Leon was waiting patiently, staring
