Isahn finds himself home, again.
Isahn’sheartandlungsbantered in excited tones as they neared the gates of Nowosmont. His and Hil’s alternate identities of Mel Hill and Einarr Strom had gotten them back through Gramenia and into Domos, but they needed to change tactics to re-enter the guarded city.
“Are you all right?” Hildy checked in.
“Excited. Nervous. Yes.”
She chuckled.
“You think Wynnie got the letter?” Isahn had asked one hundred times during their ride north and went for one hundred and one. In spite of his nerves over the possibility of everything falling apart again, the almost two-week ride wasn’t entirely torturous. He enjoyed himself most of the time with many of his memories slotted back into place—he assumed—and the prospect of George shimmering on the horizon.
“If the birds didn’t run into any trouble, yes.” She shifted in her saddle. “I hope so, at least.”
They came to a stop beside the tall walls of the false capital, a few hundred yards down from the main gate. Despite the stars sparkling in the sky and the fact that it was still spring, it felt like a midsummer day in Selwas. Isahn picked at his tunic and slipped a cool mist down the back of his shirt. He’d returned to wearing the style of the north, but the airy linen still clung to his back.
“It’s unconscionably hot,” Hildy grumbled, fanning her face while she studied the sky. Clearly, she saw something Isahn could not amongst the stars, because she turned to him then, her smile glowing bright in the dark. “Let’s find out if they got the letter, shall we?”
He returned her smile, and his pulse burst into applause.
Hildy made an odd sort of bird call with her magic, casting it out into the night.
“Ha!” she exclaimed quietly, grabbing her left arm, and rubbing the spot at the crook of her elbow. “They got our note.”
Touch magic. Either Dunstan or George was waiting on the other side. “That means thank you, right?” He voiced the question as a memory, or something like it, pulsed in his mind, knocking for entry. When he drew open that mental door, a crowd of details poured in, adding to a night he’d partially recovered before. A terribly uncomfortable dinner. Lying on a sofa, a beautiful woman at his side. His stomach soured unexpectedly.
“More or less. Sort of a generic sign for ‘all good,’” Hildy explained. “Come on, let’s go. You’re ready.”
Isahn opened his mouth to ask what she meant about him being “ready” when he caught sight of his newly tanned arm covered in coarse black hair.
He looked Salskanan. George or Wynnie was on the other side of the solid stone wall, glamoring him from their hidden position, and Isahn was ready to enter the gates as a new aide.
WynnieandDunstanwerewaiting on the inside. Though he wished it was George, these friends were still a welcomed sight.
Hildy rushed forward, dropping her horse’s reins to wrap Wynnie in a warm embrace.
Dunstan limped slightly as he rounded on Isahn, grabbing him by the upper arm and stepping in to act the part of “soldier transporting enslaved man.”
“Sorry,” Dunstan whispered. “Being watched.” He nodded tersely, greeting the guards of the gate.
“Let’s walk and talk.” Hildy threw a muffled and mundane conversation outward from their group, shielding them in the most innocuous way possible.
“Where’s George?” he asked the moment it was safe to speak.
“You remember!” Wynnie bounced excitedly.
Isahn’s horse nickered as it clomped alongside him.
“She’s inside. Been keeping a close eye on her father since everything went down in town,” Dunstan explained, still holding Isahn, though his grip was no longer tight.
“Does she know we’re back?” His love was safe and sound in the true capital. Soon, so very soon, he’d be with her.
“She does. She’s excited to see you.” Wynnie looked pointedly at him as she delivered the remark.
“And I her.” He grinned like a fool.
“We can tell.” Dunstan laughed heartily before swinging his gaze around conspiratorially and asking, “When can we see the thing?”
“When we’reinside,” Hildy replied.
