obviously been soldiers of the Empire for a while. They had as much gray in their hair as Berin did these days, with the weathered look of men who’d spent too much time fighting in the sun over too many years. One was a good head taller than Berin, but stooped slightly over the spear he leaned on. The other had a beard that he’d oiled and waxed until it looked almost as sharp as the weapon he held. Relief flooded through Berin as he saw them, because he recognized them both.
“Varo, Caxus?” Berin said. “It’s me, Berin.”
The tension hung there for a moment, and Berin found himself hoping that the two would remember him. Then the guards laughed.
“So it is,” Varo said, unbending from over his spear for a moment. “We haven’t seen you in… how long has it been, Caxus?”
The other stroked his beard while he considered. “It’s been months since he was last here. Haven’t really talked since he delivered those bracers for me last summer.”
“I’ve been away,” Berin explained. He didn’t say where. People might not pay their smiths much, but he doubted they would react well to him looking for work elsewhere. Soldiers didn’t usually like the idea of their enemies receiving good blades. “Times have been hard.”
“Times have been hard all around,” Caxus agreed. Berin saw him frown slightly. “It still doesn’t explain what you’re doing in the main castle.”
“You shouldn’t be in here, bladesmith, and you know it,” Varo agreed.
“What is it?” Caxus asked. “An emergency repair for some noble lad’s favorite sword? I think we’d have heard if Lucious had snapped a blade. He’d probably have flogged his servants raw.”
Berin knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with a lie like that. Instead, he decided to try the one thing that might work: honesty. “I’m here to see my daughter.”
He heard Varo suck in air between his teeth. “Ah, now that’s a tricky one.”
Caxus nodded. “Saw her fighting in the Stade the other day. Tough little thing. She killed a spiny bear and a combatlord. Hard fight though.”
Berin’s heart tightened in his chest as he heard that. They had Ceres fighting on the sands? Even though he knew it had been her dream to fight there, this didn’t feel like the fulfillment of it. No, this was something else.
“I have to see her,” Berin insisted.
Varo tilted his head to one side. “Like I said, tricky. No one gets in to see her now. Queen’s orders.”
“But I’m her father,” Berin said.
Caxus spread his hands. “There’s not a lot we can do.”
Berin thought quickly. “Not a lot you can do? Was that what I said when you needed your spear re-hafting before your captain saw that you’d snapped it that time?”
“We said we wouldn’t talk about that,” the guard said, with a worried look.
“And what about you, Varo?” Berin continued, pressing his point home before the other could decide to throw him out. “Did I say that it was ‘tricky’ when you wanted a sword that would actually fit your hand, rather than army issue?”
“Well…”
Berin didn’t stop. The important thing was to push forward past their objections. No, the important thing was to see his daughter.
“How many times has my work saved your lives?” he demanded. “Varo, you told me the story of that bandit chief your unit went after. Whose sword did you use to kill him?”
“Yours,” Varo admitted.
“And Caxus, when you wanted all that filigree work on your greaves to impress that girl you married, who did you go to?”
“You,” Caxus said. Berin could see him pondering.
“And that’s before we get to the days when I was following you all around on campaign,” Berin said. “What about – ”
Caxus raised a hand. “All right, all right. You’ve made your point. Your daughter’s room is further up. We’ll show you the way. But if anyone asks, we’re just escorting you out of the building.”
Berin doubted anyone would ask, but that didn’t matter right then. Only one thing did. He was going to see his daughter. He followed the two along the castle’s corridors, finally coming to a door that was barred and locked from the outside. Since the key sat in the lock, he turned it.
Berin’s heart nearly burst at his first sight of his daughter for months. She lay in bed, groaning as she came to, and looking at him with bleary eyes.
“Father?”
“Ceres!” Berin ran to her, throwing his arms around her and crushing her tight to him. “It’s okay. I’m here.”
He wanted to hold her tightly and never let her go right then, but he heard Ceres’s gasp of pain as he hugged her, and he pulled back hurriedly.
“What’s wrong?” Berin asked.
“No, it’s all right,” Ceres said. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Berin said. His daughter had always been so strong, so if she was in pain, it had to be bad. Berin never wanted to see his daughter hurt like that. “Let me look.”
Ceres let him, and Berin winced at what he saw. Tightly stitched wounds ran in parallel lines across his daughter’s back.
“How did you get in here?” Ceres asked while he did it. “How did you even find me?”
“I still have some friends,” her father said. “And I wasn’t going to give up without finding you.”
Ceres turned to him, and Berin could see the love there in her eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” Berin said. “I should never have left you with your mother.”
Ceres reached out to take his hand, and Berin had forgotten quite how much he missed his daughter until then. “You’re here now.”
“I am,” Berin said. He took another look at her back. “They haven’t cleaned it properly. Here, let me find something to help.”
It was hard having to leave even for that short time. Varo and Caxus were still outside, and it didn’t take much to get them to bring food and water. Maybe they saw the look on his face when it came to things that involved Ceres’s well-being.
He passed her the bowl of food, and the speed with which Ceres devoured it told Berin everything he needed to know about how they’d been treating her here. He took the bowl of water, using it to clean out the wounds she’d gotten from her fight.
Ceres nodded. “I’m a lot better than I was.”
“Then I don’t want to think about how bad it was,” Berin said.
He couldn’t keep the guilt from washing up over him. If he hadn’t gone, then his children would never have gone through any of this.
“I’m
