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night.”
    Aubryn had gone back to the stables by the time heclimbed out of the cellar. Of the two Companions, she alone could broadcast Mindspeech, so he’d needed her to get Amelie’s “attention” in a manner that didn’t cause an excess of screaming. Vehs stayed behind, making sure Ivy slept undisturbed in the stable loft they currently called home.
    And that was a luxury Wil had not had this past month while he’d been pretending to not be a Herald: being able to leave Ivy alone and know she’d be protected. Wil had learned just how much help the Companions—especially Aubryn—had been at corralling his youngster.
    :Aubryn loves it,:
Vehs said as Wil climbed the ladder to the loft.
:It distracts her from the past.:
    Wil understood. Not to the depths Aubryn did, but well enough. She had lost her Chosen to a freak accident within weeks of Choosing him and had volunteered to accompany Wil so he could be both a Circuit Herald
and
a father. Usually, when he went into towns as a Herald, Ivy stayed back at the Waystation. Few people even knew she traveled with him, except random travelers they met on the road and the Heraldic Circle itself.
    The Companions also meant he could finally do more than just observe Ferrin. And if the worst happened, Aubryn would defend Ivy to the death, Fetching the toddler to her back if they needed to escape.
    But for now Ivy slept in the loft. He settled down, put an arm around her, and sank into sleep.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Sitting by the fire, Wil braided Ivy’s hair and listened to Ystell humming “Today, I Ride,” a song about Sendar’s last battle. He’d heard it in other places, too—the market, while buying soap for bathing, picking up feed for the stables. Amelie had planted her seeds well.
    Around noon Wil and Ivy left the inn to walk the muddy road to the old palace of Lineas.
    It sat at the end of a broad, abandoned avenue, a husk of its former self. The closer they got to the grounds, thegreater the overgrowth of brambles, bushes, and trees became. The locals had intentionally let it go wild; it heightened the castle’s “mystique.”
    An exception to the overgrowth was a patch of tramped down grass within the three-walled courtyard, just in front of a set of steps leading up to a broad stone landing and a pair of rotting oaken doors. Two large lanterns fitted with reflectors to amplify their light flanked the doors on iron hooks, all freshly oiled and free of rust.
    Wil sat on the steps as Ivy ran about the grounds, pulling flowers off of bushes and finding sticks and rocks to play with.
    â€œHello.” Amelie’s voice came from behind, giving him a start. Ivy ran over with a squeak to hug the young Bard.
    â€œYou’ve been there the whole time?” he asked, getting to his feet.
    Amelie jerked her head toward the open doors. “There’s an old underground passage to the palace I saw Ferrin use. It’s how he orchestrates his ‘grand entrance’ to the Masque. Comes out two rooms off the entrance. I’d have told you about it—” She flashed a crooked smile. “—but it would’ve spoiled the fun.”
    Her smiled faded and her voice pitched low, so only he and Ivy could have heard. “When did Lelia pass?”
    Fresh daggers of loss pierced Wil’s heart. “A few weeks before Sovvan.”
    â€œI didn’t want to believe her when she said she wouldn’t see another one.” She ruffled Ivy’s hair. “Has anyone told you you’re crazy for traveling with a baby?”
    Ivy twisted around and frowned. “
Not
a baby.”
    Amelie laughed. “If you insist.” She looked at Wil. “You know why Lelia sent me here, don’t you?”
    â€œMaresa wasn’t sure you knew anything about Lelia’s . . . work. But I get the feeling you do.”
    Amelie released Ivy, and she ran off to chase a