" . . . and by blade!"

The words echoed as if nearly a dozen men had shouted them, but Blackthorn could only see two men before him, one in the garb of a soldier, the other with a traveling cloak flung over his judiciary robes. Surely Shaana's father and his own—but he could not be certain. The two men seemed indistinct, blurry in the torchlight. No, not torchlight . . . sunlight, gray as if dulled by clouds. The forest, too, had turned gray, its wall of trees now a palisade of stone and mortar. His cottage was also gone, and in its place, a keep.

"Lord Blackthorn?" His father lips moved, but it was the voice of Judge Dryden that spoke.

The courtyard of Castle Briannia solidified around him and the judge peered at him with concern. Captain Suturb stood where Shaana's father had just been, and he shared Dryden's expression. "My Lord," he pressed.

"Yes, of course," Blackthorn answered, then turned to the soldiers lined before him, the elite of the Black Company's soldiers who served as his entourage, the men who had ridden with him to Britain. He had ordered them to mount up, and they had responded with the call of the Black Company. Now they awaited his leave to carry out the command.

Blackthorn merely nodded, and Suturb and the company dispersed for the stables. They would all be riding east on this dull eve, the first time that Blackthorn and many of them had left the confines of Britain since they had arrived during the solstice. While they had stayed, others had left . . . and returned. The Great Council was reconvening in the morrow. This meeting would mark another first, for no where was it recorded that the Great Council had met other than during a solstice or equinox. Granted, not all of the Council had left Castle Britannia. Annon could conduct Britain's affairs from within its walls, and Felespar entrusted Judge Dryden to represent his interests back in Yew. The others Blackthorn had sent back to their towns.

Now the councilors had returned. Indeed, as the Black Company headed for the stables, their ranks broke around the figures of Felespar and Hassad. The councilor from Yew led Hassad around puddles deep enough to submerge one's ankle. Snow had surrendered to rain early this year, leaving behind swaths of slick mud. And by the smell of it, the gray sky would soon yield another storm.

Hassad extended his hand when they reached him. "Lord Blackthorn, 'tis good to see thee again."

"Hassad, as full of wit as ever." Blackthorn fondly grasped the hand of the blind mage. "I am glad that thy trip has seen thee here safely. I have missed thy counsel."

The councilor from Skara Brae chuckled. "Thou wilt have more than enough of our counsel in the upcoming weeks, I fear. Most of the councilors intend to stay through the coming of spring."

"That, I do not agree with," Blackthorn said. "The Councilors should return to their respective towns as soon as possible. They cannot help their people from here."

Felespar uttered a disgruntled oath. "With the exception of Skara Brae, Britain, and Yew, the Councilors do not seem to be helping their towns at all. There is unrest, and the other councilors do little to quell it. If not for the Black Company—"

"We need not discuss that now," Blackthorn said, severely. "The leaders of the Black Company and I will attend to those matters tomorrow."

"As will the Great Council," said Dryden, and Blackthorn could not mistake the sardonic undertone with which he spoke the name. "For surely that is why they arrive, is it not?" The judge directed question at Felespar.