in the southern cities who had immediately fled when they heard of Bellorum’s defeat. The general himself was never captured.
Maggiore Totus put down his pen and removed his spectoculums. He had dotted the final i and crossed the last t of his history. He’d worked with a speed that had surprised even himself, and he was very pleased with the results. Of course, it would be months before it would be read by anyone; after all, the manuscript had to be sent to the Holy Brothers in the Southern Continent, who would copy and illuminate it with decorative letters and pictures. Also, Thirrin wanted at least one History of the War for every city in the land, and one each for all the rulers of the allies, and so the process would take even longer.
Still, his work was done, and he poured himself a large glass of sherry. Then he got up from his desk and moved closer to the fire. The winter was particularly cold that year, and the snows so deep that Thirrin had been forced to permanently assign an entire regiment of housecarls to the job of clearing the city streets. Maggie reached his favorite chair, picked up Primplepuss, who was asleep there, and placed her on his knees as he sat down. She mewed sleepily and settled again as he stroked her.
Outside his door he could hear chamberlains and other servants rushing to and fro as they hurried to prepare for the coming celebrations. “Yule again, Primplepuss. Where does the time go?”
The little cat mewed without opening her eyes.
“And so many great people coming to share it with us. The Basilea and Olememnon, and Tharaman-Thar and Taradan. And we mustn’t forget King Grishmak, even though he’s become something of a permanent fixture recently.”
The delicious scent of baking solstice pie crept into the room, and the old scholar sniffed appreciatively. “Now, I wonder if they’re looking for tasters for the latest batch in the kitchens. Yes … yes. I might just go and volunteer my services.”
He drained his glass of sherry, placed Primplepuss on the chair as he stood up, and went in search of some early Yule treats. Out in the corridor he was immediately caught up in a tidal rush of people carrying baskets and barrels, boxes and bushels of differing foodstuffs. Rightly assuming they must be heading for the kitchens, Maggiore was content to allow himself to be bundled along.
The small party of Thirrin, Oskan, Grimswald, and the bodyguard of white werewolves stood for a moment of silent respect by the side of the newly raised funeral mound that stood on the plain of Frostmarris. It was deeply buried under a layer of frozen snow, and beneath the pristine brilliance of the icy covering, the earth was still bare and grassless. But come the springtime it would be glorious with the tumbled colors of wildflowers, for when King Redrought’s funeral urn had been placed in the central chamber, Thirrin had personally scattered seeds over the loose soil.
The raising of her father’s burial mound had been for Thirrin the final act of the war with the Polypontus. She’d kept her promise and brought Redrought’s ashes home from the Hypolitan, and now he lay at peace with his ancestors, close to the city he had loved.
Grimswald blew his nose loudly on an enormous handkerchief and smiled sadly. It was almost a year ago that the Empire had invaded and Redrought had marched off to destroy the first of their armies. And now that that fateful date had been commemorated, Grimswald felt that his master had finally been laid to rest.
Thirrin looked up at last and gazed around her, scrutinizing every detail of the defensive walls before slowly taking in the broad sweep of the panorama to the eaves of the forest. Beside her, Oskan waited patiently, using the time to adjust Jenny’s ear-warmers and secretly feed her a carrot. Thirrin had been doing a lot of this sort of thing recently. It was as though she couldn’t quite believe the war was over and the land was still free, so she had to reassure herself by looking at things long and hard, just to make sure there were no Polypontian soldiers patrolling the walls, roads, or wherever else she was staring.
“Everything all right?” Oskan asked at last, when she took a little longer than usual.
“Yes, why?” she snapped.
“Oh, no reason. I just wondered if you were looking for anything in particular.”
“No, just … looking.”
“Fine. Shall we