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  "Durin," Sinjin whispered. "Can you hear me? Wake up. Don't make me beat you into consciousness."

  Durin's eyes did not open, but one side of his mouth twitched and turned upward. It lasted only a moment; then he was gone again. Sinjin's parents were faring no better, and the room began to close in on him, forcing him to accept the guilt and responsibility. Part of him wanted to run until he could run no more, to escape from the horror of having killed his parents and his best friend. What kind of monster would do such a thing? He'd risked everything on a silly race. He'd won the race and lost everything else.

  Returning in a rustle of skirts, Millie entered the room looking pale, and she leaned on the rough-hewn walls. "Master Edling is within Dragonhold," she gasped between breaths.

  Sinjin's head snapped up. Master Edling had never entered Dragonhold, and not since the erection of the wall bearing his name had he come north of it. It wasn't until recently that anyone could cross the wall. As a result of the Pinook Treaty, a gate had been built and limited trade established. Looking at the still forms of his parents, a chill clutched his bowels. This was no time to show weakness. Sinjin was not weak minded or completely unprepared. "Tell him my parents are involved in matters that cannot wait and will occupy them until after nightfall."

  "Edling and his gaggle of fools are not here to see your parents," Millie said with a look that Sinjin knew all too well. "They're here looking for another fool, one that seems to have won a race, I believe."

  Standing as rigid as stone, Sinjin allowed Millie to dab powder around his eyes.

  "We can't have them thinking you've been crying," she said. "Now look at me. Your eyes are as red as roses. But I can't fix that."

  That did little to bolster Sinjin's failing confidence as he walked to Dragonhold's main entrance. What had once been a jagged gash in the stone wall had been carved into a broad entranceway. The inner gates, which had been constructed using whole tree trunks, stood open, showing the cloudless sky beyond. Within stood Master Edling and his party, which was dwarfed by the massive scale of the ancient hall. Delicately curved pillars the size of greatoaks extended high into the darkness, leaving the ceiling of the chamber hidden from view. Some said the place was named Dragonhold because dragons could fly within the hold; others said an ancient dragon lived in the darkest depths of the mountain fortress. Sinjin knew he could use the majesty of his home to his advantage.

  "Master Edling," he said with a bow that was little more than a nod. He could almost feel Millie's pride as he had shown just enough respect to offset the insult. Again, he could sense Millie's approval as he let the silence hang between them. Someone less trained might have launched into apologies or explanations or excuses, but Sinjin knew better; Millie and Uncle Chase had seen to that.

  "Lord Volker," Master Edling said after an uncomfortable silence. "I had hoped your parents would accompany you. I was so looking forward to congratulating them on raising such a fine and strong young man-not to mention fast. Hester was none too pleased that you broke his record, I can assure you that! I don't believe I'd buy any butter or cheese from Hester if I were you," Edling finished with a condescending smile and a too-deep bow.

  Sinjin, again, said nothing. Those behind Master Edling shuffled their feet and fidgeted, perhaps uncomfortable on Edling's behalf.

  Master Edling coughed. "Yes. . as I was saying. . you left without claiming your prize. The Spring Challenges and Summer Games are based on tradition, and some traditions simply must not be broken, for the sake of continuity. It is for that reason that we have come to you. I present you this wreath as a sign of your victory. Let your countrymen know that your right to the title Champion has been duly earned and cannot be taken away."

  Sinjin accepted the wreath, knowing Edling had other, less honorable reasons for coming to Dragonhold, such as assessing his enemies' hold in person.

  Alissa stepped forward and Sinjin was utterly unprepared for her kiss. He had expected a quick peck, but she grabbed the back of his neck and kissed him deeply. Sinjin took a step back, and she moved with him, as if she'd forgotten anyone else was present. When finally she allowed Sinjin to pull free, there was a look in her eyes that made Sinjin feel like a doe before a mountain cat. His skin flushed and his face reddened nearly as deeply as Alissa's father's as the man ushered her to the back of Edling's party.

  Sinjin flushed even further when he looked into the gathered crowd to see Kendra Ironfist looking like a storm cloud-her face flushed, her eyes afire. Despite it all, Sinjin had to admit that she was beautiful, though he'd never admit it to her. Too many times she'd caused him trouble. Still, her long brown hair softened the scowl on her face, and there was a certain twinkle in her glare. Sinjin's current circumstances once again demanded his attention as another strained silence hung over the hall.

  "Thank you all for coming here to present me with this prize," Sinjin finally said. His face still burned and a tremble crept into his voice, but he kept from showing his fear. "If you will excuse me, there are matters that require my attention."

  "I had hoped for at least a brief tour," Master Edling said. His eyes took in the details as he scanned the great hall. The tile mosaic floor had been returned to its original glory, and the ancient suits of armor that lined the walls gleamed under a patina ages in the making. Ornate entranceways led to halls shrouded in shadow, and Sinjin guessed that Master Edling must dearly wish to know what lay beyond.

  "Perhaps another time, Master Edling."

  A long silence allowed the tension to rise as Master Edling attempted to silently compel Sinjin.

  "Perhaps you could have your steward contact me, and we can arrange for a proper tour," Millie said from behind Sinjin, who gave no indication that he would speak again.

  "Uh, yes. I suppose that would be best."

  Sinjin knew it would be a long climb back down the wooden stairs that led to the valley floor below and that it would most likely be dark by the time Master Edling's party reached the bottom. Insulting Master Edling was a risky thing to do, and Sinjin was in no mood for taking more risks, but he definitely didn't want Master Edling to know that his parents were incapacitated. If Edling wanted to launch an attack on Dragonhold, this would certainly be the time to do it.

  Edling left without another word, his party hurrying in his wake.

  "If I weren't so angry with you, I do believe I'd be right proud about now," Millie said.

  Sinjin turned to see her smiling, and the weight on his soul was just a little lighter. "Thanks, Millie. I'm sorry about all the trouble I caused."

  "I don't suppose you'll be making that mistake again, now will you?"

  "No, ma'am."

  "It wasn't all your fault, now. There're darker forces at work here, and you've just got to be more careful. If they were to have killed you. . why, I don't know what I'd have done." There was a catch in her voice.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Now you run to the kitchens and get something in your belly. Can't have you falling over too."

  Sinjin's stomach agreed with Millie, and he jogged toward the kitchens. Leaving the cool air behind, he descended to the great forge. Rhythmic ringing echoed through the tunnels of stone, and the heat of the central fire radiated from the heart of Dragonhold. Here, all those who needed fire could do their work. Sinjin glanced into the smithy on his way by and could see Strom's muscular form glistening in the orange glow of hot metal. He was not a lumbering brute of a man, but he was lean and powerful, the cut of his muscles making him look like a living sculpture. His hammer blows set the cadence for the chorus of the forge. In the adjacent chamber, Osbourne and Milo worked glass into wondrous forms. As he peered in, he could see them putting the final touches on a glass dragon made in Kyrien's image, an image that was becoming ever more popular despite his long absence-or perhaps because of it. Sinjin pulled his gaze away as thoughts of Kyrien led to thoughts of his mother and father.

  The smell of baking bread overtook the earthy fragrance of the smi
thy and smelting room, and more savory aromas drifted in from the kitchens. Sinjin charged past the bakery and slowed to a respectful speed when he reached the main kitchen. He couldn't count the number of times Miss Mariss had told him to slow down in her kitchens, and as he'd gotten older, he'd begun listening to her-most of the time. Several smacks on the back of the head with a wooden spoon had helped motivate him.

  When he entered, an unnatural silence greeted him. The kitchens were a place of noise and constant activity, but everyone in the keep knew what had happened the day before, and the cooks silently waited to see what he would say.

  Miss Mariss had been fanning herself near one of the precious few ventilation shafts, seeming reluctant to come talk to Sinjin. "I'll never get used to this heat," she complained, as she had many times before. "The kitchen in my inn is always hot, but you can walk outside and escape it for a bit. Here you just cook along with the meat! Do those men really need that much heat to forge metal and make glass?"

  Sinjin walked alongside Miss Mariss as she talked. Absently she grabbed a wooden bowl and a slate. Into the bowl went red sausage, smoked bacon, salt-cured ham, eggs, and walnuts, Sinjin's and Prios's favorite breakfast. Onto the slate went a small loaf of dark bread that had been cut open and stuffed with soft cheese and honey.

  "Go," Miss Mariss said, not giving herself or anyone else the chance to ask him questions she knew he did not want to answer.

  Sinjin left without looking anyone else in the eye, but when he turned the corner, he literally ran into the last person in the world he wanted to see. Kendra looked down at the honey that now stained her smock, which was snug and seemed to demand that Sinjin stare at it, and she cast Sinjin one of her least pleasant looks. "You oaf!"

  "Kendra! You apologize this instant!" ordered Kendra's mother, Khenna.

  "It was my fault. I wasn't looking," Sinjin said, and he tried to slide by both of them, but Khenna blocked his path.

  "This won't do. Kendra, say you're sorry."

  "I won't because I'm not sorry. He thinks he's better than everyone else and he's not!"

  "Forgive her, Lord Volker," Khenna said, causing a flush of a different sort to run over Sinjin's face. He hated to be called "Lord Volker," especially now. And Kendra was the last person he wanted to hear someone call him that.

  "If he's a lord, then I'm a horse's-"

  Kendra's words were cut short, and Sinjin did not look back. The less he did to provoke Kendra, the better. It was not that he feared her, but a battle with her was one he could not win; this he knew from experience. Khenna was a trained fighter, and Kendra had proven a quick study. She challenged his authority at every opportunity, and one time he let his temper get the better of him. "Go back to your momma's skirts," he'd told her. It was a stupid thing to say. She hadn't even waited for him to finish the sentence before spinning on one leg and landing a kick on his jaw. That was all it had taken. After he'd regained consciousness, his mother had scolded him for fighting with girls. Confrontation with Kendra was best avoided.

  "Some champion," Kendra said as Sinjin retreated.

  Watching his food grow colder, Sinjin quickened his step. It was then that he realized there was nowhere he wanted to eat. Normally he would eat with Durin's family since his mother usually ate in her workroom and his father often ate by walking through the kitchens and grabbing whatever attracted him-a habit that drove Miss Mariss to distraction. Sinjin remembered the pain in Durin's parents' eyes when the news of his friend's condition had been delivered, and he could not face that pain again, especially not when it was his fault. As he neared the barracks, he considered eating with the guards, but the heated shouts from within the barracks caused him to keep going. It seemed the entire hold was in turmoil as a result of his thoughtlessness. As he neared the halls where he and Durin had played as children, he remembered a nearly dark alcove where they used to hide; perhaps he'd not completely outgrown the spot.

  Behind the statue of some ancient king, Sinjin crouched. Beside him a glowing rune chased the darkness. Carved into the stone were delicate yet cavernous sigils. The narrow, fine lines cut deep enough to allow light from the central fire to shine through. The sigils had caused quite a stir after the lighting of the great hearth. When they began to glow, people feared some ancient magic had awakened. Sinjin thought that perhaps it had.

  Putting his slate over the rune, Sinjin let the warm air reheat his now cold food. Most now agreed that the runes were the ancients' way of distributing warmth to the entire hold from the central fire, but some still held on to the belief that the runes were magical.

  "Haven't seen him," a voice said in the distance, and Sinjin heard footsteps approaching. He pulled his knees to his chest and waited for them to pass. The pain in his chest had become unbearable, and he did not want to be found. He was afraid he would be unable to find his voice.

  "How are they?"

  "Not good," Sinjin's uncle Chase said, and Sinjin pulled his knees tighter, trying to will himself out of existence. It was all his fault.

  "Do you know what happened?" the voice Sinjin could not quite place asked quietly.

  "No, not really." Chase hesitated. "Our best guess is that someone is interfering with their return. They've both traveled before, and I think they would have found their way back unless someone hampered them, as Prios once did to Catrin."

  Sinjin's heart beat fast. He was sure they would hear his quickened breathing. How would he explain his eavesdropping, especially now that they were discussing things that were normally kept hidden from him? Their family history was not entirely unknown to him, but certain details were never discussed in his presence.

  "What can we do to help?"

  "Keep your eyes open for Sinjin and hope for the best, I suppose," Chase said. The pain in his voice brought Sinjin to tears. Guilt stabbed at him, but he remained silent.

  "Our prayers are with you."

  The footsteps faded into the distance, and Sinjin knew he needed to get back to the infirmary. A whiff of his now warm food made his stomach growl, but he froze in fear as a shadow detached itself from a nearby alcove and moved along the hallway slowly as if afraid to be seen. Sinjin willed his stomach to silence as the figure melted back into the shadows. Afraid to move, Sinjin waited in terrified silence.

  Chase paced the polished granite floors of the war room, waiting for the rest to arrive. With consensus unachievable, the tension at these meetings had been growing for months, and the present crisis stood only to exacerbate the situation. With a deep sigh, he looked up. Around a table hewn from the very rock that surrounded him, oppressing him, sat three of the five people he expected. Two chairs would remain empty, a fact that haunted all of them. The chairs had been a gift from Jharmin Kyte, the husband of Catrin's cousin. It was said that Lady Lissa broke every vase within Wolfhold when she found out. The chairs themselves were a marvel. Carvings of dragons wrapped around the arms and legs. Gilded threads woven by the hands of a master graced stiff cushions, which Chase thought were far nicer to look at than to sit upon.

  Strom sat, tracing the designs on the outer edge of the table with his fingertips. The construction of this place had baffled him from the first time he'd entered it, and Chase could see his mind working, trying to figure out just how the ancients had done it.

  Brother Vaughn and his wife, Mirta, huddled in quiet conversation, discussing the condition of Catrin and Prios. Chase couldn't keep from listening, and he did his best not to despair. When Martik and Miss Mariss arrived, he nearly snapped at them, but the platters of food they carried greatly improved his mood.

  "If Catrin were here," Miss Mariss said, "she'd grumble that none of this food was grown within Dragonhold, so I'll do it for her. 'We need to grow more food within the hold. We must be self-sufficient, or all we've done will be for naught.' Now eat up." There was a catch in her voice, and the food was consumed in relative silence.

  When the trays were empty, the silence remained. Finally, Chase cleared his throat.
"I know we all wish Catrin and Prios were here, so let's just get on with the usual business, and then we can talk about what, if anything, can be done to help them. Agreed?"

  All those assembled nodded.

  "The guards are in order and are on high alert. I have men looking for Sinjin, and once we find him, we'll be keeping a closer watch on him. I shouldn't have let him out of my sight, and I won't make that mistake again. As for the finances, things are as grim as ever. I'm not sure how much longer we can keep paying the number of men required to protect us. That's my report."

  "The smithy is fully operational, but we need more ore. As I've said before, we either need to start new mines or reopen some of the old mines. All the good mines are south of the wall, and Edling will just raise the prices and drain our coffers. If we create new mines as extensions of the keep, then we might be able to create additional open areas for some sort of agriculture."

  "With the number of herald globes it would take to provide enough light to grow anything," Brother Vaughn said, "we could sell the globes and import our food supplies."

  "There's still the possibility of growing mushrooms in the dark," Miss Mariss interrupted. "Then we only need light to harvest them."

  "Even if we can grow enough mushrooms to feed the hold, we can't live off mushrooms alone," Martik added.

  "Can we at least agree that we should invest more time working on mushroom farming methods?" Chase asked with an edge to his voice.

  The others nodded.

  "On a positive note," Mirta interjected, "our herb- and flower-drying efforts have provided enough medicinal herbs and spices to last at least three winters. Our stockpiles of nuts and dried fruits are also enough to last several seasons with proper rationing."

  Chase tried not to frown, knowing even that success would not satisfy Catrin. If the hold were ever to be truly self-sufficient, they would need to find ways to satisfy all of their needs from within the hold. While Chase understood her motivations, every passing day made it more difficult to convince people that the hold needed to be self-sufficient. A warming weather trend had brought bountiful harvests, and the populations north and south of the wall were growing rapidly. The darkness of Catrin's visions seemed worlds away, and there were few people who believed they would ever need the protection Catrin so desperately sought to prepare. These thoughts weren't new, and he'd yet to find a solution, so Chase set his jaw and committed himself to simply making forward progress.