Page 95 of Keeper of the Word

Let’s see.What was the best course of action? Was there honestly an indication that Bernwald worked against him? Nay. Tolvar was being paranoid again. He was being…

“Stars, now what?”

A commotion had sparked here in his own camp. Dozens of knights grouped together, conversing loudly. Next to the cluster of men, a few pages held a dozen horses. Not the horses of his men. Ashwinian Lusters.

It took a moment’s realization to notice that half the knights wore black-and-gold Order of Siria uniforms.

Siria’s skirt.

Tolvar exhaled a long breath and strode to the group.

Someone shouted, “There he is! There is the earl.”

“What’s this?” Tolvar rolled his shoulders back. If the Order was here to pick a fight, they should know better than to think the Wolf wasn’talwaysready for a fight.

One knight stepped forward. He appeared only slightly older; his clean-shaven face and arrogant blue eyes made Tolvar want to throw a punch. He was not in the mood.

“Lord Tolvar, you have a guest.” The man’s voice rang in a churlish tone.

Was it Goodsell? It’d been only a few days since he’d sent his message to Ashwin about the crack.

“Who?”

“If you’ll follow me, m’lord,” the knight said, striding to Tolvar’s tent.

Tolvar shoved past him. “I need not directions to my own quarters. Hert, find Gus!” He stepped into the tent, his lips tightening, his jaw locked.

“Why, Sir Tolvar, what an awful face.”

Again, Tolvar found himself collecting his bearings. Standing before him was not Commander Goodsell, head of the Order of Siria, but a small woman. Her tight bun had nary a hair out ofplace, although on her Ashwinian steed, she must have come at a neck-breaking speed.

“Lady Kyrie?”

“Ashwin received your message, Sir Tolvar. Lead me to this trace of the Curse.”

Chapter

Thirty-Five

TOLVAR

“And then what occurred?” Kyrie asked.

The two walked through the trees in the direction of the crack. A mob of knights followed them, the Order knights and a half-dozen of Tolvar’s. ’Twas no use attempting to hide their tromping as they cut through Anscom’s land. The men had given them space to speak, but Tolvar and Kyrie still kept their voices low.

“And then we rode back. I had the feeling it wouldn’t be in our best interest to loiter in Trysinmar.”

“You were right to return.”

Her affirmation did not make Tolvar feel better. What had Crevan thought of that move? Cowardly? He glanced down at Kyrie, trodding along the forest floor gracefully, as if she glided across the floor of a hall.

She was almost as short as Sloane. Sloane. Instinctively, Tolvar pressed a hand to his pocket in which the moon cuff was tucked. Kyrie shifted her gaze, and Tolvar dropped his hand.

“Have you any idea who this traitorous watchdog might be? Is it possible to See?”

“The stars shall decide that. In the meantime, you did right in sending us word.”

“I know not why you, yourself, came. You might have sent any number of messengers. ’Twas made clear last time that StarSeers do not leave Ashwin. I cannot believe Tara allowed you to go.”