They departed early in the morning, at dawn, yawning and rubbing sleep from their eyes. Thanks to the fog, no one paid any attention to the travelers slipping away. They reached the ford after a small detour northward, crossed the swift-flowing Dellivrine, then rode along the riverbank and the edge of the Enchanted Forest, past the very beach where Kairu and Woody had fought a giant rat last winter. Now, the beast was long gone, and warm water lapped at the earth and grass, revealing tree roots under spreading canopies.

  They rode their horses hard, watching Mainor fade into the distance to the right, across the Dellivrine. Then the city disappeared. On the right stretched the boundless shimmering expanse of Ilvion, with a thin blue line of forest on the other side, and to the left were woods, groves, and fields marking the approaches to the Eastern Province.

  For three days they traveled through fields and along the shore, then they reached the road, and their horses' hooves clattered on the smooth, rocky surface. No one had used this road, linking Mainor, Asternia, and Boreain, since the war began almost a year ago. In the heated sky above the shimmering haze of hot days, wisps of clouds rose, and falcons and eagles circled, hunting in the fields. Then the travelers entered the shadow of the trees, moving along the road that lay in a gloomy forest that seemed to have no end.

  They hunted, taking turns venturing from camp into the woods in pairs to find any game, as the long detour around roadside inns forced them to tighten their belts. The Hellsteeds grazed at night, using instinct to find food and water, and then in the morning the people used their findings to fill flasks. And so, in conversation, in the jostle of damp saddles, in rest beneath shade where their camp would be harder to spot, passed the days of May. The devilishly hot days and sultry nights of quiet May in the year 1454, when the war had momentarily calmed, and the scent of blood that had soaked Aktida was somewhat scattered on the wind, dissolved into the wild fragrance of blooming grass.

  On one of those days, beneath the drifting haze of heat, they emerged from the humid forest and rode south into the steppe, which stretched for another hundred miles before the road entered the hot and humid forests of the Eastern Province.

  The plains through which they rode descended toward a river flowing east to west, toward the distant Ilvion which now lay somewhere behind them to the right. There, on the horizon, the outlines of the steppe blurred and vanished into the waves of hot air, and the blue stripe of the great river was invisible. But the Honey River before them, with its yellowish waters, was an integral part of that great river system, linking the tiny settlements near the mountains with the central cities of Aktida. The road passed over an ancient stone bridge, likely built in the days of the Nocturns, and vanished into the woods on the far side.

  In the thick, impenetrable shade of the broad tree crowns, it was stifling hot. The horses showed no signs of exhaustion, though they were soaked and foamy; the travelers, having stashed their cloaks in the bundles, rode in just their shirts. Viggo was drenched in sweat and, at rest stops, either grumbled about the climate while reminiscing about his native Vaimar or played cards with Remiz—the only available entertainment in this wilderness. Kairu and Rita buried themselves in maps and pored over their books, all while frequently examining the golden brooch, the strange coin, and the fragment of parchment.

  Remiz, Norton, and Joanna, true southerners, bore the heat stoically. Woody held on with all his strength, drenched in sweat on horseback, fanning himself with a piece of paper and wiping his face with a handkerchief.

  "I don’t understand how anyone can live in a place this hot," Viggo voiced the group's shared sentiment one evening, as they sat by the fire, swatting away the swarms of mosquitoes that made their skin itch all over and sweltering in the heat. "To die out here doesn’t take much… Is this the Mages' Guild new punishment, to gift your employees a plot of land somewhere in the jungle or the middle of a desert?"

  "If Ashley Nielder heard you, she’d bring a hundred arguments proving that Onklag is just as livable as your beloved Vaimar," Rita muttered, slicing greens into a pot simmering over the fire. The smoke stung their eyes, forcing them to move farther back and sit in the half-light, enjoying the relative cool. "And don’t you dare ask her that, she’ll take mortal offense. Or so I think."

  "By the way, what did she get her title for?" Woody asked, tossing twigs into the fire and stirring the embers. "Is it hereditary? Let me guess, is she just like Petros, the daughter of some count?"

  "As far as I remember, she was born in a village," said Rita. "Remiz, correct me if I’m wrong... I think she entered a convent in the Southern Province at the age of sixteen, studied there for a while, but didn’t take the vows. Instead, she decided to try her luck in the big city. She got a recommendation, made her way to Nalvin, was accepted into the Mages' Guild, didn’t study particularly well and wasn’t considered a promising magician, except in one subject: alchemy. Her instructors later said it was a gift from the gods. She had an incredible grasp of herbology, an instinct for when and how to mix ingredients, and within a year, she’d mastered the subject so well that she decided to tackle one of the most complex alchemical hypotheses. It had been formulated five hundred years ago and remained unproven. Many scholars had tried and failed to solve it, but Ashley somehow managed to calculate the exact formula, gather the ingredients, prepare the potion, which we now call the Elixir of Research, and presented it at the Academy of Sciences’ competition in Asternia, which is held once every five years. Nowadays, the Elixir’s formula is used in all fields of medicine, in industry, pretty much everywhere... And Ashley won the highest prize, gained the right to enter the Mainor Institute without exams, studied there, became a magister and professor, gave lectures for a while, went on an expedition with Petros, was granted a huge plot of land in Onklag, and moved there with her husband and children. A real fairy tale, right?"

  "Wouldn’t mind that myself," Viggo said dreamily. "Sure, the money I made from the expedition is now sitting safely in the Vaimar’s Central Bank account, but a count’s title to go with it wouldn’t hurt. So, are we close to reaching her?"

  "I think tomorrow," said Kairu, peering at the map. "We’re almost at Onklag’s border, and soon we’ll enter neutral territory. The Nielders enjoy special privileges in the state, they only pay taxes to the Academy of Sciences and a standard noble levy to Mainor, and they have the right to deny mobilization of the peasants within their county. They have no reason to leave Onklag; they’ve got everything they need there... Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, I suggest we turn in. We’ve got a long ride ahead tomorrow. Let’s hope there’s at least one decent tavern left in the county."

  The morning was clear, sunny, and to everyone’s amazement, the piercing blue sky held motionless towers of snow-white cumulus clouds, blown in by the wind from somewhere far away, casting pale blue shadows. The heat wasn’t too intense, and the ride was easy. Their thoughts were mostly occupied with their growling stomachs—breakfast consisted only of dried apples, nuts, and a slice of cured meat. Water had to be rationed. Despite the high humidity, they hadn’t found a single spring in the forest, and it remained a mystery how their steeds managed to quench their thirst each night.

  The sun hadn’t yet reached its zenith and still hung over the translucent blue east when a break in the trees appeared. A few minutes later, squinting in the sunlight and the warm breeze, they emerged onto the edge of a muddy overgrown road, leading forward through fields and hills where, far as the eye could see, scattered groves of exotic tropical trees and the small huts of local settlers nestled. Towering clouds glowed brilliantly, their halos stinging eyes unaccustomed to anything brighter than forest gloom. And it was hot.

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  Peasant huts stood scattered, fenced off, with barns and stables visible beyond. Birdsong filled the treetops, unrelenting as they slowly descended into the valley and watched the horizon unfold, revealing the open expanses of the Onklag Plateau. To the left stretched dense forests and high rocky hills from which a river flowed in cascades of waterfalls into the valley and cut across it at an angle. Beyond the river, surrounded by plantations and orchards, stood a remarkable building—a slender white tower, its spire seeming to pierce the clouds. Sunlight appeared to gather at its peak, making it look like a giant gleaming white needle planted in the middle of the plain.

  "And there’s Estogil," said Rita, pointing. "The Nielders’ estate."

  "Did you notice anything?" Remiz asked quietly as they paused to take in the view.

  "Magic," Joanna nodded. "I felt it too... Some kind of enchantment barrier. But it let us through. I think the tower already knows who we are and where we’re headed."

  "Besides, there aren’t many of us," Kairu muttered. "Taking us down, if it came to it, would be a matter of minutes. Well, no choice now. We’ve come a long way, might as well finish this leg of the journey."

  "Pinch me, I must be dreaming," Viggo exclaimed. "Wow! What a place! I thought this kind of stuff only existed in fairy tales, but I keep expecting a gnome or some magical creature to pop out from behind a tree... Amazing!"

  They reached the river and rode along its bank to a spot where a small, elegant wooden bridge came into view. They passed a large watermill, its wooden wheel groaning as it turned and loudly splashing water back into the current. The water lapped at the shrunken shoreline, where sharp rocks jutted out and thick blue strands of algae lay in clumps, the waves reaching up to the moist grass growing over the road.

  It was quiet and drowsy all around. The air carried the spicy scent of wildflowers. On the opposite riverbank, hornbeams and elms whispered, their dense canopies rustling. Insects flitted through the air; grasshoppers buzzed furiously in the grass. A soft chime, and suddenly a swarm of semi-transparent butterflies with glowing blue and pink wings fluttered by and vanished, as if they’d never been.

  "A remarkable place," Rita said in a half-whisper. No one wanted to speak loudly, not to disturb the strange enchantment. "Never thought I’d set foot here, and still... No, Ashley Nielder isn’t the reason. But damn it, she sure knows how to pick a place to live... I wouldn’t mind buying a little house here myself. Only I’m afraid the land’s too expensive."

  "I doubt they sell land in places like this," Norton muttered. "It’s handed out by the king himself, either for special merit, like to Lady Nielder, or you’ve got to be a royal buddy..."

  The horses snorted, shook their manes, inhaled the air through huge nostrils, and slowly turned their glowing blood-red eyes. They passed another shack, riding right next to the fence. On the other side of the palisade, a dark-haired, tanned woman in a crumpled apron, her hands dry and blackened from the sun, was hanging laundry on long ropes. From the open barn doors came the sound of an axe chopping, and somewhere in the house, a child was crying. The woman gave them an indifferent glance—evidently, travelers weren’t a rare sight in these parts—and resumed her work. Viggo sniffed the air:

  "What's that smell?.. Got it! Oatmeal! Damn it!"

  The woman threw another glance his way, this time wary. She knew a large group could easily ride right into her yard, demand shelter, and eat their fill of oatmeal. Rita tugged on Viggo’s arm:

  "Easy. We’re almost there."

  The tower rose into the sky directly ahead. Indeed, they were just a stone’s throw away. With a sigh, Viggo squeezed his Hellsteed’s sides with his knees, frowned, and caught up with Kairu, who was riding ahead and pointing the way. They climbed a hill and entered a grove of tall, slender trees planted in neat rows, as if on purpose. These trees did not rustle with lush greenery; instead, their silver branches gently swayed with sparse leaves resembling golden coins. The entire grove was transparent, offering a clear view all the way to the white-stone base of the tower ahead. The horses carefully stepped over the damp, brown stones of a shallow brook, shook off the water, and moved toward the tall arch of the gates.

  They dismounted slowly, stopping short of the porch steps. Kairu looked around, his heart pounding from anxiety. He approached the gates, unsure where to begin. But he didn’t have to. A melodic chime rang out, and the doors swung open. Out stepped a man of about sixty, squinting in the sunlight, with a neatly trimmed gray beard, sideburns, and a mane of silver hair. He wore an ordinary house robe and sandals. Kairu even envied him—it was surely cooler inside the tower than under the scorching May sun.

  "Looking for lodging?" the man muttered from the threshold instead of greeting them. "Try the peasants, or head south along the main road, there’s an inn at the hamlet. Although, if you were heading south, then you’ve reached your destination. There’s no road further south."

  "Master Roger?" Rita asked cautiously.

  "Of course, mademoiselle..."

  "We’d like to see Lady Ashley," Kairu interjected, gathering his courage. Roger Nielder gave him a somewhat suspicious look.

  "From Mainor or Asternia? Then why such a large delegation?"

  "We..." Kairu began, hesitated, and simply said: "Call her, please."

  "Young man, only if you tell me how to introduce you to her."

  "We’re friends of Petros," Rita said firmly. "That’s all you need to say. And we’re here on his behalf."

  "Petros?" Roger repeated. His expression changed oddly. He glanced at the Hellsteeds the travelers were holding by the reins, then looked up at the sun, now high in the sky. "Well, that’s interesting! And where is he himself?"

  "That’s a long story," Kairu muttered. "Listen, we really need to talk..."

  "Roger! What’s going on out there? Why is it taking so long?" came a voice from deep within the tower. Not entirely old, but cracked and raspy from years of life. Kairu flinched.

  "Come here. Tell Atgard to wait a bit. You have guests. They say they’ve brought a message from Petros."

  After a moment of silence, the voice sounded again, suddenly stirred and excited:

  "Wait! I’m coming! Atgard, dear, wait just a bit, I have to see this... I’m coming, Roger!"

  "Don’t trip, or you’ll break every bone you’ve got," muttered Mr. Nielder. "Not the age to be hopping around like a goat..."

  With surprising ease for her age, Ashley ran out onto the porch.

  She was thin as a reed, wiry, with curly, disheveled locks of what was once light hair, a wrinkled face, thin pale lips, and eyes that, alone on her face, still looked young. Those eyes shone like those of a twenty-year-old girl as she looked at them, breathless, standing on the steps. Wearing a gray sorceress's robe, a golden necklace in a modest neckline revealing tanned skin, and rings on her fingers, she looked like a true countess. Yet she looked at the guests almost reverently.

  "Is it true?" she asked clearly. Roger gripped her hand tightly, as if restraining her emotions. "You came from Petros? Then where is he?"

  "We’d like to talk," Kairu raised a hand. "We’ll tell you some things you probably don’t know about him, and we hope to receive help from you. Any help you’re able to offer."

  Ashley said nothing, studying them as if searching for familiar faces. Her gaze lingered on Rita. Then she said, quietly and wearily:

  "Roger, please call Fekri to take the horses to the stable. I recognize Petros’s touch, brute that he is… poor creatures... You—come with me. We won’t talk out here. And please, leave your weapons at the entrance. You are guests, after all, and must respect the laws of Onklag and Estogil. But if you want to learn something about Petros, be prepared, that I may have very little to give. I didn’t know him that well either. Still, in this wilderness, I’ll be glad for any news of old acquaintances. Well, nothing new about Saelin, everyone knows everything. I heard about Nubel’s death. And now you show up..."

  "Kairu Kenai," Kairu said firmly, extending his hand to Roger. He gently kissed Ashley’s hand, which she offered with the grace of a noblewoman. "This is Viggo, Remiz, Woody, Norton, Rita, and Joanna, my companions and close friends of Petros. We were with him last summer."

  "It’ll take me some time to remember so many new names," sighed the sorceress. "Let’s go. Thank you, Roger… Atgard will want to hear the news too. He didn’t travel all this way from his estate for nothing. Well, welcome to Onklag and Estogil, my friends!"