Dame Nestra patted her husband’s arm. “He listened to you. We both did. Some of the other woodcutters have accidents. The spirits don’t bother us. In fact, they help us. We’re always generous to travelers who come through. Now, since you look like a grown man, I’m sure you have a man’s appetite as well. I was just going to start on some soup, and the bread will be done ere long. I keep telling him we should build an inn or something with all the visitors we get. You can still sleep outside if you prefer, Annon. You’re always welcome here.”

Annon smiled at the hospitality and nodded his acceptance. He didn’t dare tell them that they were entertaining one of the Thirteen of Canton Vaud and that he could have stayed at the palace of the King of Wayland if he’d chosen. He was glad he had decided to stop to see them on his way to the king’s city. He patted the Tay al-Ard fastened to his belt.

Tyrus lowered the cowl of his cloak in reverence. The mighty oak tree looked as if it had seen a thousand winters and summers. The forked trunk was twisted and furrowed. New growth had started from the trunk and the existing branches were crowned with healthy leaves. In the distance, the sound of chisels and stone beating to rhythms faded. The fortress was starting to rise from the rubble, the grounds full of scaffolding, men and pack animals hauling stone from the mountains near Basilides.

He paused before the oak, head slightly bowed, listening for the whispers from the talisman around his neck.

Phae stepped from around the tree, smiling broadly. She came forward and embraced him, kissing his bearded cheek. “Hello, Father. The work is progressing. It will be beautiful when it is finished.”

He reached out and clasped her hand, feeling its warmth and strength. “You’ve seen it already, I imagine.”

Phae nodded. “It’s a marvelous structure. Canton Vaud will be the center of learning throughout all the kingdoms. You are its first Archivist, you know. The custodian of many secrets. You will even have your own tower again.”

He was satisfied by that and squeezed her hand. “Thank you for seeing me, Phae. I don’t mean to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble, Father,” she replied. “I will always be here, even when you are old and gray. Your whiskers are starting to turn, but there is still much you will accomplish in your lifetime. Time passes differently for me. It won’t be long before you join us.”

Tyrus sighed deeply, longing for that reunion, but knowing there was still a purpose he needed to accomplish first. “I have a question for you.”

“Of course.” She linked her arm with his and they started to stroll through the glen. She was not wearing the robes he had seen other Dryads with—her attire was better situated to a girl from Stonehollow, the girl she had grown up as. A homestead girl. She was beautiful and radiant, and he flushed with pride at seeing her inner strength, her wisdom, her compassion.

“I’m proud of you, Phae,” he said, surprising himself. “I’m so very proud of you.”

She caressed his hand. “It wasn’t really either of us who deserves the credit. We both know that. Every person did their part, just as you knew they would. You will honor the memories of Khiara and Prince Aransetis?”

“Yes,” Tyrus said. “The manor house in Silvandom is a shrine to their memory. The Vaettir pay their respects and give them honor in their way. And Erasmus will be remembered in Havenrook. We must remember those who gave their lives.”

“I’m pleased. Why did you come? What do you wish to know?”

“The Seneschal made me the custodian of Shirikant’s book. It is a heavy burden, Phae. I don’t trust anyone else to even look at it. But I know, child, that someday, long after I’m gone, someone else will seek out its secrets. Someone with the fireblood, most likely. Ambition has uses, for certain, but my mind is heavy with the possibility. I would seek counsel from you. Should I hide it where no one can find it? It will always be a temptation if I leave it with the rest of the Archives. Some knowledge should be hidden permanently.”

Phae listened to his words thoughtfully. They continued the pleasant stroll, wandering the grounds around the tree. The roots of her tree were vast, giving her a wide room to walk and be free.

“You cannot prevent evil from occurring,” she said, looking at him pointedly. “Nor should you. The Seneschal described its cycle like that of the seasons. We are in the season of spring, when good has triumphed and evil is forced to slumber. The cycle will come again, long after you have relinquished your duty to others. It will be their turn, Father. It will be their duty to stand up to that evil. As you did.”