"If we're handing out gifts," Carroway said, "then I've got something for both of you." He reached into a small pack under the table and withdrew two bundles. The larger bundle he handed to Soterius, and the smaller one to Mikhail. "Well— open them!"

"We ought to take on harebrained stunts like this more often if it conies with dinner and gifts!" Mikhail joked. He was first to open his bundle. Inside was a small set of pipes. Mikhail lifted them to his lips and played a few bars of a popular tavern ditty.

"You've already memorized all the songs I've written to stir up trouble," Carroway added. "And I've heard you play when you didn't think anyone was listening. Not bad... for someone who's not a bard, that is."

Soterius tore the paper from around his bundle. A bandolier of stawar leather tumbled out, complete with a set of throwing knives. Soterius raised the leather belt appreciatively. "Now that is beautiful."

Carroway grinned. "You can thank Jonmarc for the leatherwork. Berry and I supplied the knives. Pity you can't throw as well as we do, but maybe you'll improve with practice."

Soterius gave him a sour look that sent the rest laughing. Harrtuck reached behind him for his pack, and emptied it out unceremoniously onto the table. Out fell a collection of small weapons—daggers, shivs, darts, and metal knuckle guards. Few of the items were considered legal; they were the equipment of a mercenary or a brawler rather than a regulation soldier.

"I'd rather not explain my sources," Harrtuck said with a sideways glance at Staden, who laughed. "But I took up a collection from the boys in the company. They decided that if you're going to act like mercs you should be outfitted like them."

When the group finally stopped laughing, Carina reached under the table for her gift. "This may not be as much help for Mikhail, since he doesn't need my services," she said as Soterius unpacked the cloth bag. "But it's got enough herbs and powders to patch you up a few times at least. Try not to need more."

"I'll make it up to Mikhail with this," Royster said, and withdrew a leather-bound book from beneath his chair. "It's by King Argus's court scribe; it has a full recounting of the king's best military battles. Rather engrossing, if you ask me. Perhaps there's something in the strategies you can use."

Mikhail smiled as he weighed the book in his hands. "Argus was a friend of mine. And although I couldn't join him in his ale, he was a man with an appetite for good times."

Tris shuddered, remembering the crypt beneath the Library at Westmarch. "Since I met him after he was already dead, I wouldn't know. He was determined at the time to take me with him."

Mikhail chuckled. "Argus had a temper. And he could hold a grudge. But he was one of your grandmother's most loyal supporters. Like everyone else, I suspect he had a bit of a crush on her. For a sorceress, she had more than her share of admirers."

When the dessert was finished and the plates were cleared, an awkward silence fell over the group. Staden cleared his throat and stood.

"I suspect that you'll be getting your nights and days turned around if you intend to ride together," Staden said with a glance between Soterius and Mikhail. "But since I'm guessing that we're into the early bells of the morning, perhaps we'd best let you get some rest before you set out." He bid them rise, and stood in front of Soterius and Mikhail.

"Tis not an easy thing you set off to do," the king said gravely. "But from what I've seen, there's no one more likely to make it happen. May the Goddess ride with you." He clapped a large hand on each man's shoulder with a force that might have felled a frail person. Tris and the others crowded around them.

Kiara whispered a blessing and kissed Soterius on the cheek in parting as Jae hopped from foot to foot on her shoulder. Carroway shook Soterius's hand and made his exit quickly after leaving them with a bawdy rhyme. Vahanian slapped Soterius soundly on the back and wished him well. Harrtuck embraced him until Soterius cried out for release, and then parted with a ribald prayer for the Lady's favor. Berry pressed a small cockade into Soterius's hand, a sign of her favor, and hugged him. Even Carina stretched up on tiptoe to kiss Soterius on the cheek in blessing and wish him well. The group also made their goodbyes to Mikhail, though a bit more formally, as seemed fitting. Then everyone was gone, save Tris, Mikhail, and Soterius.

"I'll get the horses ready," Mikhail said, bowing slightly to Tris. "If the Lady's hand is on us, we'll see you again at Shekerishet. May the Dark Lady favor you." He made the sign of the Lady. Tris and Soterius were silent until after Mikhail closed the door behind him.

"If there's something formal I'm supposed to say," Tris said, "I don't know what it is."

"The only reasonable thing would be to try to talk me out of it, but we both know it's too late for that."

"I know."

"Hey, quit acting like it's my funeral. We're going to drink about this at your coronation, where you can amply reward me with some high-flying title."

"You, on the Council of Nobles. I shudder to think."

"We'll shake them up a little," Soterius promised. ."Show them how to have a good time." He fell silent. Tris could see the stress in his friend's face.

"Ban, if you're having second thoughts—"

"Not on your life," Soterius answered a bit too quickly. "I mean, hey, we've all got a part to play in this, right? After all, I helped get us into this. If we hadn't been snooping around Arontala's window like houseflies—"

"We'd be dead."

Soterius grimaced. "Well, yes, I guess so." He rested one foot on the bench of the table and leaned forward, picking the last traces from the meat platter. "You know, Tris, Carroway is right. They'll be singing about this in the taverns for generations.

Martris Drayke, the Summoner King of Margolan." He shot a sly look in Tris's direction, "And his noble queen, Kiara of Isencroft."

"That's enough of that," Tris said, rolling his eyes. They were silent again for a few moments.

"Well," said Soterius awkwardly. "I guess I'd better be going."

"I guess so. I'll see you back at Shekerishet, right?"

"I might even beat you there," Soterius said, managing a grin. "I'll be watching your back, just like always."

"Be careful, Ban," Tris said, clasping his friend in a tight farewell embrace.

Soterius stepped back. "You too. I think the Lady really does have Her hand on you, Tris, but be careful anyway."

Tris murmured a blessing and then turned away, steeling himself against looking back, and closed the heavy door behind him. But it took him many candlemarks that night to fall asleep, and dreams, when they came, left him restless.

Tris found that nearly as many petitioners waited for him after his return from the citadel as were there before Winterstide. He balanced his duties as a Summoner against the growing list of decisions that demanded his attention as the time for their return to Margolan grew closer. Even the training with Vahanian took on new urgency, and Tris ached from the candlemarks spent trying to perfect the difficult Eastmark fighting style that required both agility and full concentration. He despaired of ever matching Vahanian's skill, although he secretly took pride in the complicated moves he had mastered. And after the salle came more study with Royster, until Tris's eyes blurred. He had fallen asleep at his desk more nights than he wished to remember, adding a stiff neck to his list of injuries.

Tris held his Court of Spirits in the evening, so that he could also serve the petitions of vayash moru. Gabriel and Vahanian took turns guarding him at all times. Tris accepted the protection ruefully, though he declined Staden's offer of more guards, fearing that soldiers might scare away too many petitioners.