“But, Alexeika—”

“Or,” she said, watching their disappointed faces with a smile, “I may go and do the bargaining myself.”

Willem jumped to her side. “You’ll need our help for that!” he said with excitement.

“Aye,” she agreed, grinning back. “I will.”

“Hurray!” he shouted, jumping up and down. “The Karstok fair! I can’t wait to see everything there. May I load the pelts?”

“I’ll help!” Vlad said eagerly.

Kexis stood up and swatted them aside. “I’ll do the tying. You bring these traps.”

Alexeika did not like the way he had begun to give the younger ones orders, especially when those orders always delegated the worst tasks to everyone but himself. “Kexis,” she said sharply. “Come here.”

He turned to her obediently, and Vlad and Willem grinned at each other and began tying the pelts on the donkey the way they wanted to.  “Kexis, you and I will get the caches,” she said.

He went with her happily, obviously pleased to be alone in her company. They opened the storage caves and brought out the entire summer’s worth of work, then rolled up the pelts and tied them to their backs.

By the time she and Kexis returned, the old donkey was loaded and their work area tidied so thoroughly no trace of their presence remained.  Alexeika nodded in satisfaction. “Well done,” she praised them. “Not even the Grethori’s best trackers will suspect we’ve been here. The doubters in the camp said we couldn’t trap the summer furs, but with your help I have proved them wrong. I am proud of each of you. You’ve worked like men, and I could not have had better helpers.”

Grinning, Willem and Vlad puffed out their chests. Kexis turned bright red and gazed at her with open worship.

They headed down the mountain, going slowly because the trail was steep and the pelts heavy. Willem offered to divide her load between him and Vlad so she wouldn’t have to carry anything, but Alexeika declined. Her muscles were tired, but she was strong and surefooted. She let Vlad lead the donkey, and she dispatched Willem to scout ahead for berries. Although he frowned a little at what he considered children’s work, it kept him occupied and useful. Alexeika never missed an opportunity to glean all the food they could.  By the time they reached the valley floor, shadows were sloping through the mountain ravines. Looking ahead through the trees, Alexeika could see the ghostly outlines of the tents. She loved coming home at twilight, when the cooking fires were burning small and bright like glittering jewels and a peaceful hush had descended over the camp. If she squinted her eyes, she could look down the hill and almost imagine that the tents were maidens in white ball gowns, gathered shyly at the edge of the dancing floor. Humming an old court tune lightly to herself, she pretended the lords and ladies were about to commence the grande glissade, a stately court dance her father used to describe to her.

Alexeika had never been to court, had never seen a ball, had never worn a gown of exquisite silk sewn with jewels, had never veiled her hair according to fashion. Her father had taught her the steps of the formal dances, humming the tunes as they turned and skipped in a private forest clearing. But she was a princess in exile, a foreigner to the way of life that should have been her inheritance.

She could not miss something she had never known, but it pleased her now and then to wonder and pretend.

As she drew closer, she could smell the fragrant smoke of the cooking fires and mouthwatering scents of baking fish and spiced quanda roots. The ghostly court maidens became tattered and much-mended tents of sun-bleached cross-cloth. A pair of unseen children bickered sharply, and their mother’s voice reprimanded them. On the far side of camp, the faint strains of zithren music could be heard, strumming a ballad of love and loss.

Hearing the song made Alexeika think of her own grief, which was always a stone in her heart. It also annoyed her. She knew the tragic past would haunt them forever, but it was important to keep her hope focused on the future.  As she descended the final incline toward the camp, Alexeika checked the sentry points as always. She saw no one on the flat rock that jutted out from the steep hillside. She saw no one in the forked larch. She saw no one on the enormous log of an Ancestor—ancient trees so massive they must have been seeded by the gods.  All three checkpoints had no one in position, despite the fact that it was nearly dusk.

Alexeika stopped in her tracks and stared at the positions again to make sure there was no mistake. There wasn’t. The sentries were not on duty.  She could not imagine what was wrong. Swiftly she looked toward Uzfan’s tent. A puff of purple smoke was rising from the fire vent, and the sight of it eased her sense of alarm. If he was busy creating spells to ease his old joints tonight, then no crisis had happened.

But where were the sentries? This was just like the first few days after the massacre, when no one wanted to take responsibility for any task and Alexeika had to cajole, plead, and threaten to get the surviving camp members to work.  Scowling, she tried to remember who was assigned tonight’s watch duty. It was supposed to be Tleska, Vynyan, and ...

“Draysinko,” she said aloud.

Willem crowded up against her on the trail. “Alexeika, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why have you stopped?”

Their donkey brayed loudly, making her jump. Furiously she whirled around and glared at Kexis. “Keep that brute quiet!” she ordered.  His eyes widened, but he hastily seized the animal’s nostrils and pinched hard to keep it from sounding off again. “Is something amiss?” he whispered.  All three boys were staring at her with wide, frightened eyes. Her forehead knotted and she swung her gaze back toward the camp. Everything looked well. She could see individuals moving among the tents. Someone, probably Marta, was walking toward the fjord with a wooden pail for water.  “Alexeika?” Willem dared whisper.

She tried to overcome her tight-lipped anger, tried to ignore the furious pounding of her heart. “Look yon, boys. What do you see amiss?” They crowded around her and peered down at the camp while she fumed and kicked pebbles. “Well?” she demanded. “Do you see? Or has my training been a waste of time?”

Thus chastened, they straightened their shoulders. Turning bright red, Kexis said, “No one has fished today. It’s time to start smoking extra lakecaps for winter storage.”

Her gaze flicked away from him. “Vlad?”

But it was Willem who answered, “There are no sentries.”

Kexis blinked and Vlad’s mouth fell open.

“Impossible!” Kexis said, giving Willem a push. “You’re inventing fables.”

“I’m not!”

“Cease,” Alexeika snapped, and they hushed immediately. She glared at the camp and started down the trail so that the boys and donkey had no choice but to follow. “The fools,” she muttered under her breath.

Her stomach had been growling insistently, but now she forgot how hungry and tired she was as she lengthened her stride. With every step, her annoyance grew, destroying her previous satisfaction at a day’s work well done.  She despaired of her camp folk. How could they be so careless? Must she remind them of basic safety measures endlessly? Why could they not take some responsibility for themselves?

Leadership was a heavy burden to carry. She entered camp with her fists clenched and her jaw set tight. While she always worried when she left camp for an entire day, she had also tried to convince herself that her people were sensible.  Now, they’d proven that assumption wrong.

“Alexeika, look!” Vlad said to her.

She glanced forward to where he pointed and saw two figures emerging from the cluster of tents to meet her. She recognized Uzfan and Draysinko immediately, and scowled. Uzfan, his wrinkled face looking worried above his gray beard, tried to reach her first, but she quickened her stride to confront Draysinko.  “Have your wits gone begging?” she demanded.

He came to an abrupt halt and stared at her with his mouth open. He had a narrow face with a wispy dark beard and eyes that were bright, beady, and dissatisfied.  Glaring, she gave him no chance to speak. “Why aren’t you on duty?”

“Duty? But—”

“Yes, duty,” she snapped. “You and Tleska and—”

“Oh, sentry work.” He waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s unimportant. We—” “How dare you say so!” she shouted, not caring who heard her.  Uzfan frowned and made shushing motions at her, but she ignored him.  “Thod’s bones, man!” she snapped at Draysinko. “I just came down the mountain with a donkey and three blundering boys in my wake, and none of you knew it.” “I’ve been watching for your return,” Draysinko said. “There is something we must discuss.”