about all the trouble I caused.'
'I don't suppose you'll be making that mistake again, now will you?'
'No, ma'am.'
'It wasn't all your fault, now. There're darker forces at work here, and you've just got to be more careful. If they were to have killed you. . why, I don't know what I'd have done.' There was a catch in her voice.
'Yes, ma'am.'
'Now you run to the kitchens and get something in your belly. Can't have you falling over too.'
Sinjin's stomach agreed with Millie, and he jogged toward the kitchens. Leaving the cool air behind, he descended to the great forge. Rhythmic ringing echoed through the tunnels of stone, and the heat of the central fire radiated from the heart of Dragonhold. Here, all those who needed fire could do their work. Sinjin glanced into the smithy on his way by and could see Strom's muscular form glistening in the orange glow of hot metal. He was not a lumbering brute of a man, but he was lean and powerful, the cut of his muscles making him look like a living sculpture. His hammer blows set the cadence for the chorus of the forge. In the adjacent chamber, Osbourne and Milo worked glass into wondrous forms. As he peered in, he could see them putting the final touches on a glass dragon made in Kyrien's image, an image that was becoming ever more popular despite his long absence-or perhaps because of it. Sinjin pulled his gaze away as thoughts of Kyrien led to thoughts of his mother and father.
The smell of baking bread overtook the earthy fragrance of the smithy and smelting room, and more savory aromas drifted in from the kitchens. Sinjin charged past the bakery and slowed to a respectful speed when he reached the main kitchen. He couldn't count the number of times Miss Mariss had told him to slow down in her kitchens, and as he'd gotten older, he'd begun listening to her-most of the time. Several smacks on the back of the head with a wooden spoon had helped motivate him.
When he entered, an unnatural silence greeted him. The kitchens were a place of noise and constant activity, but everyone in the keep knew what had happened the day before, and the cooks silently waited to see what he would say.
Miss Mariss had been fanning herself near one of the precious few ventilation shafts, seeming reluctant to come talk to Sinjin. 'I'll never get used to this heat,' she complained, as she had many times before. 'The kitchen in my inn is always hot, but you can walk outside and escape it for a bit. Here you just cook along with the meat! Do those men really need that much heat to forge metal and make glass?'
Sinjin walked alongside Miss Mariss as she talked. Absently she grabbed a wooden bowl and a slate. Into the bowl went red sausage, smoked bacon, salt-cured ham, eggs, and walnuts, Sinjin's and Prios's favorite breakfast. Onto the slate went a small loaf of dark bread that had been cut open and stuffed with soft cheese and honey.
'Go,' Miss Mariss said, not giving herself or anyone else the chance to ask him questions she knew he did not want to answer.
Sinjin left without looking anyone else in the eye, but when he turned the corner, he literally ran into the last person in the world he wanted to see. Kendra looked down at the honey that now stained her smock, which was snug and seemed to demand that Sinjin stare at it, and she cast Sinjin one of her least pleasant looks. 'You oaf!'
'Kendra! You apologize this instant!' ordered Kendra's mother, Khenna.
'It was my fault. I wasn't looking,' Sinjin said, and he tried to slide by both of them, but Khenna blocked his path.
'This won't do. Kendra, say you're sorry.'
'I won't because I'm not sorry. He thinks he's better than everyone else and he's not!'
'Forgive her, Lord Volker,' Khenna said, causing a flush of a different sort to run over Sinjin's face. He hated to be called 'Lord Volker,' especially now. And Kendra was the last person he wanted to hear someone call him that.
'If he's a lord, then I'm a horse's-'
Kendra's words were cut short, and Sinjin did not look back. The less he did to provoke Kendra, the better. It was not that he feared her, but a battle with her was one he could not win; this he knew from experience. Khenna was a trained fighter, and Kendra had proven a quick study. She challenged his authority at every opportunity, and one time he let his temper get the better of him. 'Go back to your momma's skirts,' he'd told her. It was a stupid thing to say. She hadn't even waited for him to finish the sentence before spinning on one leg and landing a kick on his jaw. That was all it had taken. After he'd regained consciousness, his mother had scolded him for fighting with girls. Confrontation with Kendra was best avoided.
'Some champion,' Kendra said as Sinjin retreated.
Watching his food grow colder, Sinjin quickened his step. It was then that he realized there was nowhere he wanted to eat. Normally he would eat with Durin's family since his mother usually ate in her workroom and his father often ate by walking through the kitchens and grabbing whatever attracted him-a habit that drove Miss Mariss to distraction. Sinjin remembered the pain in Durin's parents' eyes when the news of his friend's condition had been delivered, and he could not face that pain again, especially not when it was his fault. As he neared the barracks, he considered eating with the guards, but the heated shouts from within the barracks caused him to keep going. It seemed the entire hold was in turmoil as a result of his thoughtlessness. As he neared the halls where he and Durin had played as children, he remembered a nearly dark alcove where they used to hide; perhaps he'd not completely outgrown the spot.
Behind the statue of some ancient king, Sinjin crouched. Beside him a glowing rune chased the darkness. Carved into the stone were delicate yet cavernous sigils. The narrow, fine lines cut deep enough to allow light from the central fire to shine through. The sigils had caused quite a stir after the lighting of the great hearth. When they began to glow, people feared some ancient magic had awakened. Sinjin thought that perhaps it had.
Putting his slate over the rune, Sinjin let the warm air reheat his now cold food. Most now agreed that the runes were the ancients' way of distributing warmth to the entire hold from the central fire, but some still held on to the belief that the runes were magical.
'Haven't seen him,' a voice said in the distance, and Sinjin heard footsteps approaching. He pulled his knees to his chest and waited for them to pass. The pain in his chest had become unbearable, and he did not want to be found. He was afraid he would be unable to find his voice.
'How are they?'
'Not good,' Sinjin's uncle Chase said, and Sinjin pulled his knees tighter, trying to will himself out of existence. It was all his fault.
'Do you know what happened?' the voice Sinjin could not quite place asked quietly.
'No, not really.' Chase hesitated. 'Our best guess is that someone is interfering with their return. They've both traveled before, and I think they would have found their way back unless someone hampered them, as Prios once did to Catrin.'
Sinjin's heart beat fast. He was sure they would hear his quickened breathing. How would he explain his eavesdropping, especially now that they were discussing things that were normally kept hidden from him? Their family history was not entirely unknown to him, but certain details were never discussed in his presence.
'What can we do to help?'
'Keep your eyes open for Sinjin and hope for the best, I suppose,' Chase said. The pain in his voice brought Sinjin to tears. Guilt stabbed at him, but he remained silent.
'Our prayers are with you.'
The footsteps faded into the distance, and Sinjin knew he needed to get back to the infirmary. A whiff of his now warm food made his stomach growl, but he froze in fear as a shadow detached itself from a nearby alcove and moved along the hallway slowly as if afraid to be seen. Sinjin willed his stomach to silence as the figure melted back into the shadows. Afraid to move, Sinjin waited in terrified silence.
Chase paced the polished granite floors of the war room, waiting for the rest to arrive. With consensus unachievable, the tension at these meetings had been growing for months, and the present crisis stood only to exacerbate the situation. With a deep sigh, he looked up. Around a table hewn from the very rock that surrounded him, oppressing him, sat three of the five people he expected. Two chairs would remain empty, a fact that haunted all of them. The chairs had been a gift from Jharmin Kyte, the husband of Catrin's cousin. It was said that Lady Lissa broke every vase within Wolfhold when she found out. The chairs themselves were a marvel. Carvings of
