The troop rode on through the dreary afternoon. Over the course of the day, their chatter grew so loud that Deckard foundhimself overwhelmed by their numbers. At any given time, he overheard five separate conversations happening. Each drew his attention away from the person before him. After two months of growing accustomed to their much more subdued party, the cacophony felt outrageous.
At last, they set up camp a mile outside a village, the early spring sun that had emerged in the late afternoon still bright in the sky. The Ephrians and Calders readily began their old routine of setting up camp, but Vayden, Isla, and Brea looked to Deckard for direction, which suddenly made him realize that he didn’t have jobs for them. Everyone else had created a pattern over the last few months, knowing exactly where their roles lay. Now, the seven original members of their party fell back into the rhythm of traveling together, which left the three newcomers decidedly on the outside.
Still, Deckard needed to assign them something to contribute to the evening’s preparations. So he requested that Isla assist Ilain with gathering supplies for a fire, directed Vayden to assist Rafferty with seeing to the horses, and sent Brea with Ethenn and Evylin.
“A Warrior hunting party, eh?” Rafferty said with a smirk. “You lot had better bring us a banquet.”
With her new bow in hand, courtesy of the Alliance, Evylin smirked. “We’ll see what we can do,” she said, then followed Ethenn and Brea into the woods.
The rest of the men set up the five two-person tents around the camp. As the weather was improving, they didn’t need to be right next to the heat of the fire, so they were able to space the tents out nicely, giving privacy to the two married couples.
When their task was done, they readily accepted their break to sit by the now-merrily burning fire and rest.
“So,” Rafferty said, dropping down beside Thom as he winked at Ilain, “what’s it like being with a man half your age?”
“Rafferty,” Deckard warned, but Ilain waved him off.
“When I’m with him in the way you mean,” she said with airy haughtiness, “I’ll be sure to let you know.”
Rafferty leaned over to nudge Thom. “You said they were canoodling last night,” he said as though in accusation.
Thom shrugged. “I simply said he was too busy to drink with us.”
“You made other implications.”
“You heard what you wanted to hear.”
Deckard moved the conversation to a more appropriate subject and turned to Isla and Vayden. “Did I hear correctly that your daughter is returning to stay with her grandparents?”
“Yes, Reyana will stay one more night in Mouroc under the care of the Alliance before traveling south with some of our friends,” Isla said.
“How do you do that?” Thom asked, then clarified, “Part with your daughter for so long.”
Vayden and Isla exchanged a weighty look. “With great difficulty,” he replied. “But we know that what we’re doing is providing a better future for her and—one day—for her own children. So we do it trusting that Allore will grant us and her grace to fulfill his purposes.”
Deckard sat across from Vayden, curious about the man’s seemingly deep faith. He’d always been taught that Wauldeners were heathens, piteous and villainous wretches who worshipped false gods. But during all their time with the Calders, they’d come to discover that Ephren had contorted the truth. While there were a great deal of Waulden people who worshipped the Mages as deities themselves, not an insignificant few still held to the founding religion of their world. And Deckard was discovering with some discomfort that they held these beliefs with even more piety than most Ephrians.
Such faith confused Deckard in light of other things he’d witnessed. While the members of the Alliance proclaimed their dedication to Allore and seemed quite passionate in their professions, he struggled to accept it as truth. Not when they were wholly bent on conquering the nations and willing to do whatever it took to secure their new reign. How far would the Alliance go to secure their aims?
“I’ve got a question,” Rafferty said, and they all gave him a wary look. “Perfectly innocent, I swear.”
“Go on,” Isla said.
“Your daughter,” he said, motioning between the couple. “She’s three-quarters Waulden, right?”
“Correct.”
He pointed straight at Isla. “And you’re a Mage.”
“I am.”
“So your daughter could be, too, right?”
Isla shrugged. “Technically, she could. However, she’s been tested many times with no sign of magic. And it isn’t likely, anyway.”
“Why not?” Thom asked.
“Magic isn’t necessarily genetic,” Ilain clarified. “There are records that indicate the first Mages and Warriors bore exclusively magical children, but that was likely to ensure the continuation of the population.”
