

The Necromancer of Peach Orchard Valley

By

Randal Doering

Copyright © 2013 by Randal Doering

Smashwords Edition

### Acknowledgements

First off, I'd like to tip my hat to the Wikipedia for the help they gave me throughout working on this book. I did bits and pieces of background research on their website, which was useful in the formulation of the finished product you now hold in your hands.

Secondly, I read a book on medieval song lyrics to get into the medieval setting of this book and listened to some excellent music to get into the mood to write this book, and below I list these resources so you can find them for yourself.

Books:

_Lyrics of the Middle Ages: An Anthology_ by James J. Wilhelm

Music:

_Miracles and Mountains_ by the San Quilmas Consort

_Camino de Santiago I & II_ by Thomas Binkley

_Aquitania_ by Sequentia

Ollivar Teedy walked slowly through the great city of Calivandamar, thinking about necromancers and necromancy and wondering what his chances were of succeeding in today's task. He had told his mother he was going to visit Lord Erol, and she had thought him to be joking, and his little sister Jenet was busy playing with friends when he left the house, so he gave her a peck on the cheek and told her to be brave. After all, the most likely outcome for his visit to Lord Erol would be his own death. But you don't make gains without taking chances, and Ollivar was seventeen now and itching to get started in life. His poor mother had been hounding him for the last year to take up some trade other than reading books, which was apparently Ollivar's first love, and Ollivar reckoned it was time to make his mark in the world.

Calivandamar was busy even at this early hour, as tradesmen prepared their shops for the day's business and the farmers set up their produce stands and the butchers went about their bloody business efficiently and with haste. The year's end and year's beginning celebrations were all over with now, and everyone's thoughts were turning to the business of the new year. It was the perfect time to bring up new things, and to offer hope where there was none.

There was no snow within the city, but the air was quite chilly this morning. Spring was slow in coming this year. In the forest outside the city there was plenty of snow still on the ground, and it was unusually cool. This entire winter had been abnormally cold, with heavy snowfalls. Children seemed to love the chance to make snow angels and snowmen, but to everyone else the extra snow had been a burden. At least it stopped incursions from the soldiers of Hawk Domain.

Ollivar was walking east through the city, and as he walked down Lord Erol's Way the sun shone right into his eyes. That is, eyes that were a normal white and brown in color, not yellow and rheumy and bloodshot; he'd checked. He had none of the signs of necromancy about him, not in body or in clothing. He wanted to get all the way into Lord Erol's castle before revealing himself, not have some man-at-arms outside the gate make a lucky guess as to his profession and try to gut him before he had even made it inside. He wore around his neck a delicate silver necklace with a silver angel dangling off it, the sign of the office he was usurping for the morning, to provide a disguise and help get him inside the castle.

He wound through his mind the spells he was to cast, rapidly because when it came time he would have to cast them quickly, and he couldn't afford mistakes or stumbling pronunciation. A farmer bumped into him as the man was setting up his stand, which ruined his concentration, and he had to start over again as he approached the castle gates. As he'd feared there was already a line of supplicants outside the gate, not a long line but nonetheless a dozen or more there in front of himself. Ollivar completed the spells in his mind and then walked up to a man-at-arms who was eyeing up the line with distaste.

"Good morning, sir," said Ollivar. "I am a healer who is here—"

"—to heal Lord Erol's son, no doubt," said the man-at-arms. "You'll have your say with the rest of this lot, in due time. No skipping ahead, if that's what you were thinking."

That was indeed what Ollivar had been thinking, and now he felt glum as the man-at-arms turned away and shouted for the line to straighten up.

"I am a specialist in the healing of bones," he told the man-at-arms, who was clearly not impressed.

"You heard me," said the man-at-arms. "Take your place in the line, and we'll see if you even get in today, healer."

Ollivar sighed and walked around to the back of the line. A few minutes after he took his place more people arrived and stood behind him, and after this there was an additional supplicant every few minutes. The better part of an hour went by before anything interesting happened; namely, the castellan came out of the gate and looked up and down the line for a minute before calling out,

"Is there a healer here, a specialist in bones?"

"Aye, that would be me," said Ollivar. He stepped out of the line, which immediately tightened up.

The castellan was an old man, sixty years or more. He was tall and lanky and clean-shaven; he had white hair and bright blue eyes. He gave the impression of being very alert.

"Come with me, then," he said to Ollivar, and he led the younger man through the gate and the castle courtyard, which was huge enough to hold a hundred horsed men with room left over. At the foot of a set of broad stairs he stopped and leaned close to Ollivar. He stared into the younger man's eyes and thumbed his silver angel.

"Can't be too sure," he said.

_Necromancy_ , Ollivar thought. Of course Lord Erol would be on watch for trouble. But the signs of the black arts were obvious and hard to miss, and Ollivar didn't exhibit them. He was fairly sure a true healer would be able to tell he was a necromancer, and he wondered at what point Lord Erol would be introducing him to a true healer. If he even made it that far.

"You know the story of Lord Erol's son?" said the castellan.

"I have heard he was thrown from a horse and had his spine shattered. It's so bad that no healer has been able to repair the damage and restore movement to the young man. He is wasting away, and is expected soon to die. I have come to repair his spine and see to the healing of his spinal cord."

"Many have tried, young man. What is your name?"

"Ollivar Teedy, sir."

"And why do you think you will succeed when so many others have failed?"

"I am a specialist in bone," said Ollivar.

"Necromancers are specialists in bone as well."

Ollivar ignored this. "I have healed other catastrophic spinal injuries," he said. "There is every reason to suspect that this one will also be amenable to my skills."

"You mean your master's skills," said the castellan. "Your angel's skills."

"As I said," said Ollivar.

The castellan looked at the silver angel pendant on Ollivar's neck and murmured something, then he led the way up the stairs and into the castle proper. They walked down a broad hall for some distance, past some bright tapestries of battle scenes that Olliver guessed were commemorating the Winter's War, and to another stairway leading up yet again. From the outside the castle looked to have at least three floors, and Ollivar was not surprised when the castellan lead him down another corridor and then up another set of stairs. They went through a bewildering set of corridors and stopped before a large double-door that was closed. Ollivar grew more nervous with every step they took, but he reined this in with an iron hand. There was no rising in the world without bold ventures, he told himself, but he was still anxious. He was about to truly step into it, now.

The castellan knocked gently on the double doors, leaning close to them to hear, and after a moment nodded and reached for the handle and opened the doors.

"Come," he said to Ollivar. "I hope you handle yourself well before power."

"We'll soon find out," said Ollivar.

"This is the healer?" said a commanding voice from across the room. It was a deep bass voice, low and rumbling, and it gave the impression of brooking no nonsense. Ollivar followed the castellan into the small room beyond the doors, and looked around.

It was a meeting room, not very big and mostly filled by a heavy table with about a dozen chairs around it. About half of those were currently occupied. There were three knights in light leather mail and a woman healer whose presence made Ollivar's heart beat much faster for fear she would catch him out, and a sorcerer in a deep blue robe embroidered with magical symbols in white. At the head of the table was a large, powerfully-built man with black hair and black small-beard and piercing black eyes. He also wore leather mail, and carried a long sword. He was sitting easily in his armed chair, but all his attention was on Ollivar, and the young man felt his gaze like a weight pressing down on him.

He rallied. "I am Ollivar Teedy, Lord Erol. I have come to heal your son."

There was no response from the black-haired man for a moment. "You wouldn't be the first to try," he said at last. Sorrow ringed his voice, but the gaze didn't falter.

"I am a specialist in bone," said Ollivar. "I have healed several severe spinal injuries, and I am confident that I can heal this one."

"So said the castellan. And if you succeed, what do you want in return?"

"A hundred silver crowns," said Ollivar.

"That is cheap," said Lord Erol. "And?"

"And the title of baron."

"More expensive. Is that all?"

"Title to certain artifacts that have come into my possession. My barony would be over a small tract called Peach Orchard Valley, to the west of here."

"Peach Orchard Valley?" said the sorcerer. "That's an insignificant place. Why there?"

Now Ollivar took a deep breath. He was ready, it was time to come out with it and face the consequences. "It's close to the barrows, and I fancy some treasure-hunting."

"Ah, now it comes clear," said the sorcerer. He too was an old man, must have been seventy if he was a day. His hands were spread on the table in front of him, and his brown eyes looked at Ollivar steadily. There was the trace of a smile on his face.

"Hideous things dwell in those barrows," said the healer. "Every year our knights run into a barrow wight, or a jangling man, or a bone lord released by the winter from its barrow. We lose good soldiers in the barrows, young man. If you go looking for treasure, you will encounter some of these beasts."

"How old are you?" said Lord Erol.

"Seventeen, my lord. I have been healing for a year now."

"That's young, but there's no gainsaying that youth brings forth fresh talent." He said nothing more and appeared to be thinking on the matter.

"But before I attempt to heal your son—"

" _If_ you're allowed to do so," said the healer.

"As you say... Before this happens, we need to be clear on something. I am a healer, but I serve no angel. I am a necromancer."

The sorcerer was fast, but Ollivar was faster. There is a tiny bone in the back of the mouth, at the top of the throat, and if you paralyze this bone the person who is so afflicted cannot speak and cannot make spells. Olliver paralyzed this bone in the sorcerer and the healer both, to prevent them calling upon their patron spirits, and paralyzed their bodies to keep them from casting spells which needed no vocal components. Lord Erol he left untouched, but the knights he froze in place by paralyzing their spines.

Lord Erol said, "I see no control cube."

"I swallowed it."

"Ah, a small one, then."

"I am not here to quarrel, Lord Erol. I am here as I said, to heal your son."

"Necromancy brings a taint, young man."

"White necromancy does not. I have rewritten the old spells to be clean. There is no reason for necromancy to be a black art. The core of the magic is pure. It's demonic influence that corrupts it. I can heal your son without taint, my lord. You must trust me. I have done it for other men."

The healer rocked back and forth at the table and turned red in the face.

"Sorry, lady healer, but I cannot release you until I am sure of your good behavior," said Ollivar. "You too, good sorcerer. You were entirely too quick, a moment ago. I don't fancy being struck down."

"The penalty for necromancy is being burned at the stake," Lord Erol noted.

"That is what happened to the White Necromancer as well," said Ollivar. "I want to avoid that fate. Let me do my healing. Judge me by my actions, my lord, as all men should be taken."

"There hasn't been a white necromancer in five centuries, Ollivar Teedy," said Lord Erol.

"The incentive to try it is not strong," Ollivar said. "If it doesn't matter which sort of necromancy you practice, because you always end up getting burned alive, men have little stomach for giving it a try."

"But you claim you have."

"I am ambitious, my lord, from a poor family without any other way to rise. I stumbled upon some old books that were quite curious. A trove, you might say. The wisdom of these ancient works was immediately apparent to me. I pondered it for a while then decided to give it a try. I can only live once."

"What did you imagine the outcome of this conversation would be? How can I do anything but have you put to death? If it was heard by the lords of other domains that I was treating with a necromancer, the entire domain would be at peril."

"I can contribute to the domain's defense, my lord."

"With bone men."

"Skeleton warriors, I call mine. Much stronger than traditional bone men. A surprise for Hawk Domain."

"It's not only Hawk Domain that would come calling, if I were to treat with you," said Lord Erol. "Egret Domain and even Pelican Domain would feel they had little choice but to come and depose me."

"Fortunately, there is the example of the White Necromancer before us," said Ollivar. "We must control the stories that get out about me, and influence how men see me and my contributions to Swan Domain."

"Ollivar, have you had an education? Or are you a fool?"

"I _understand_ the history of Swan Domain and the wider world, my lord," said Ollivar. "I know the history of the Disturbances as well as any man. But so long as we are unwilling to try new things, that history will never change. We will always be prey to the black arts, if we do not wrest control of them for ourselves."

Lord Erol rubbed his face with his hands. "The demons that grant necromancers their powers will retaliate against Swan Domain, if I treat with a white necromancer. They will be offended."

"And we can batter than back, my lord. We must not let them win by being afraid."

"I said nothing of fear, Ollivar Teedy. But the demons would bring us unholy war, and we would lose citizens."

"Or you can choose to lose your son, my lord, when it is within my power to bring him back from the night."

"Or I could let you heal my son and then have you burned at the stake, and claim it was my own healer who effected his cure," said Lord Erol evenly.

"The demons would still know," said Ollivar. "We must go into this with eyes open, Lord Erol. This is a declaration of war on the unholy powers. There are defenses we can make, if we prepare in advance."

The healer was growing purple in the face and kept rocking back and forth. Ollivar paralyzed most of the bones in her body and held her rigid at the table.

"Release my counselors," said Lord Erol.

"I fear for my safety," said Ollivar simply.

"We are having a conversation," Lord Erol said to the five of them. "I will brook no interruptions while we are having this discussion."

With feelings of trepidation, Ollivar released the counselors. He steeled himself for a blast of power, but none such occurred.

"Demonic war would be unthinkable!" burst the healer. "Eagle Domain was the last domain to be targeted by the lords of Hell, and a hundred thousand died. Whole cities were destroyed. You speak lightly of declaring war on demons, necromancer, but you don't know what you're talking about."

"The demons powerful enough to carry forth such war are known to us," said Ollivar. "We know their names and their powers. They can be bound and made helpless."

The old sorcerer made a sound of protest. "Who are you claiming to be?" he demanded. "A white necromancer, or a great sorcerer?"

"I have studied the old magic, sorcerer," said Ollivar. "I can perform the bindings, on the ten arch-fiends of Hell. They will hold no power over Swan Domain. The anger of Hell will be crushed before it can rise. All that would be left would be minor demons and devils, which our healers and sorcerers can suppress."

"And how did such a young man come upon the old magic?" asked the sorcerer.

"Five years ago I found the great library of Lord Otis, through my own cleverness. I read the books I found there. _That_ is where all this has come from, sorcerer."

The sorcerer had a look of utter greed on his face. "As a citizen of Swan Domain, you must turn over the location of that library at once," he said.

"I don't think so," said Ollivar. "I found it through my own cleverness, as I have said. Since you are not so clever, let it remain my secret."

"I will consider your proposal, Ollivar Teedy," said Lord Erol. "Return in a fortnight's time, and we'll take up this matter again. You are forbidden to use necromancy in my domain in the meantime."

"My lord," said Ollivar. He bowed to the counselors and Lord Erol and placed himself in the care of the castellan, who had stood silent throughout these proceedings. The castellan gestured to Lord Erol and then took his leave of them all, leading Ollivar back through the passages and back out the front gate.

"Come early again next time, and I will meet you here myself," said the castellan, and Ollivar nodded. "Sixteen days hence."

Then the castellan left him there, and Ollivar returned home. There were many people out on the streets now, the city was a-bustle with commerce, and Ollivar was slow in returning home.

"So, where were you all morning?" said his mother.

"Visiting Lord Erol," Ollivar said.

His mother looked at him. Lilac Teedy was an attractive woman, in her mid-thirties and with a pleasant figure that made men look twice. Her hair was long and blonde, her eyes startling blue. But she looked tired, she always looked tired, because she was a seamstress who put in long days sewing to support the three of them. Sewing was an honorable enough profession for a widow, but it did not pay well, and the Teedy family had had many rough scrapes over the last five years, since Ollivar's father died in the Winter's War.

"You said that's what you were going to do," his mother said. She was in the middle of working on a quilt, a large one that would pay some real money, and was just looking up long enough to see what Ollivar was up to.

"It's time I got my profession under wing," Ollivar said. "So I visited Lord Erol with a business proposition."

"And he saw you?"

Ollivar had put the healer's silver angel away in a pocket, and he said, "He did."

"And what was your proposition?"

"It's complicated, mother. He said he'd need a fortnight to think it over."

"How long did you have to wait to be let in?"

"About an hour."

"That's not long, to see the lord of the land," said his mother.

"He wasn't very impressed with my proposition, that he needs a fortnight to rest on it."

"Probably he needs to talk it over with his counselors. Did you meet them, too?"

"Yes," said Ollivar. "They didn't much like me, I'm afraid. Perhaps I'm not noble enough for them."

"Tch," said his mother. "People always looking down their noses."

Ollivar said nothing to this, and his mother peppered him with questions about Lord Erol and what he was like, and the counselors, too. He answered all these questions, and asked her how her own day was going, and she said, "Slow, as always. I'm a good seamstress, but Mandy Ozyrais is faster."

This was a frequent complaint around the Teedy household, and Ollivar let it drop. He went into the kitchen and retrieved a wrinkled old apple, which he munched on as they talked. Then he excused himself to his room, where he kept his spare spell book. He had long since copied all the relevant spells out of the master spell books into a temporary spell book which he kept here at home. Now that he had mentioned the great library of Lord Otis to Lord Erol and his counselors, he considered the temporary spell book as good as stolen. That sorcerer of Lord Erol's had been quick enough to put in a claim on the library, and no doubt he'd put in a claim on Ollivar's spell book as well. It was just a matter of when the watch would show up to take it. Ollivar could fight, of course, but that would have its own repercussions. Probably wasn't wise to have the watch angry with one. Though he supposed if he trounced them severely enough, they'd stay clear. That was something worth taking into consideration. No point letting others get away with impounding spell books that didn't belong to them.

Ollivar went over his spells once more, a daily habit that had long since burned them into his mind, and now his eyes simply scanned the words. He had about thirty spells to work with, and several rituals he'd never yet tried but was eager to explore. The ritual to bind major demons and devils was one of those he had in his possession, as yet untested.

He was still reading his spell book when his sister Jenet came home from school. The girl was nine years old and had been to school for two years now; she was a sharp little thing and soaked up her lessons easily enough. She could spell, too, which was a skill that Ollivar had always lacked. The young man closed his spell book and went into the main room of the house and hugged his sister as she put her books down, and she in turn hugged him tightly.

"Good day at school?" he asked her, and she said,

"It was a slow day at school. Did you go to visit Lord Erol today, like you said?"

"Did, and I have to return in a fortnight. He needs time to think about what I said."

"What did you say?"

"It's complicated. I said a lot more than I intended to say, and that's a fact." He should not have mentioned the great library of Lord Otis in front of the sorcerer, now that bird was out of the bag and flying free. He could feel instinctively that trouble was going to come from this revelation, the sorcerer had been too eager to compel Ollivar to out the location of the place. What had the old fool thought, he'd just give it over?

Jenet fetched herself an apple and ate it while their mother looked on. Lilac's quilt was coming along well, but she had a discontented look to her that Ollivar didn't see often.

"You're certain you don't want to tell me what business you have with Lord Erol?" said Ollivar's mother.

"I'll tell you if I'm successful," Ollivar said lightly. His mother was used to him hiding his life from her, but he'd piqued her curiosity with this visit to their lord. Probably something else he should not have mentioned. His plan had been to come out with it all in one or two days, five years' planning and effort finally revealed, but Lord Erol had put the screws to his plan by putting him off for two weeks. He'd thought the lure of healing Lord Erol's heir would be irresistible, but the lord of the land was made of stern stuff, and apparently Ollivar's offer was not as tempting as he'd thought it was. He understood the history of the ten domains, he knew the demons would probably make war on Swan Domain if he were to come out in the open. He'd spent over a year hunting for the binding spell for arch demons and devils, and he'd spent another six months learning the ritual well. He was ready to take iron steps toward protecting Swan Domain from demonic incursions. Was not the heir to the throne worth the risks? They said he'd die if he wasn't cured soon of his broken spine. Surely Lord Erol was not comfortable with such an ending for his oldest son. Clearly it was time for bold ventures, if the heir was to be saved.

"Well, your way then," said Ollivar's mother, but her face was still sour.

"We're learning songs in school," said Jenet, after a long moment.

"What songs?" said Ollivar.

"The song of the white necromancer and the song of First Knight McKellin. We're learning the domain-songs for Egret and Hawk Domains, too."

"Good for you," said Ollivar. "I remember those songs. The troubadours sing them in the inns at night, and they're sung at celebrations as well. It'll do you good to learn those old words."

"I like the story of First Knight McKellin," said Jenet. "He won his lady by fighting the soul screamers and killing the necromancer Broken Jade. He was a gentleman, and my teacher said gentlemen are rare."

"That they are," said Ollivar. "There are still gentlemen knights around in our own time, but you have to look for them."

"Maybe I'll marry one of those knights, when I grow up."

"Maybe."

"Find a good tradesman," said their mother. "Marry him. A soft life, and an easy one."

"You didn't marry a tradesman," pointed out Jenet.

"No, I married a soldier, and my heart is broken for it," said Lilac. "If ever you listened to me, Jenet, hear me well when I tell you not to marry a soldier. Not with Hawk Domain being so warlike and cold of heart. Soldiers have hard, short lives in Swan Domain."

"But you loved our father," said Ollivar.

"Loved him, yes. Living with him, though, was hard. He was always out drilling, and on patrol around the city. He'd be gone for weeks at a time. Other men would come around when he was away, bringing me flowers and gifts. Disgusting, it was. As though a little absence would turn me from your father so easily."

"Do you wish you hadn't married him?" asked Ollivar.

"I wish he'd been here more while he lived, is what I wish. I wish he had survived the Winter's War. I wish he was still here. I think I'll wish those things until I die."

"I don't remember my father so well," said Jenet.

"I'm surprised you remember him at all, you were only four when he was killed," said Ollivar.

"I remember he was big," said Jenet. "He had big hands. And he laughed big, too."

"So he did," said Ollivar. "So he did. And he loved the old stories, and troubadours, and wine and song."

"He was a fool for wine and song," said Lilac. "What little money we had went to the pubs and coffee-houses."

"There are worse ways to spend money," said Ollivar.

"Better ways, too," said Lilac. "Come, Jenet, let's prepare dinner. I'm tired of sewing, been doing it all day." She set down her quilt and led Jenet into the kitchen, where she lit the stove and took a hock of ham out of the ice-box. Then came the vegetables and some bouillon cubes, and the two of them prepared dinner while Ollivar waited, and contemplated the events of the morning.

The days passed with aching slowness. Ollivar was ready to make magic, and impatient, and he spent his days taking long walks and cursing the lethargic passage of time. He'd feared Lord Erol's old sorcerer would make problems for him, but this didn't happen. Perhaps the old sorcerer feared earning Lord Erol's displeasure by interfering with Ollivar?

At last the day came when Ollivar was to return to the castle, and he walked through the city and took his place in the line but was called out after only a few minutes. The castellan led him as before through the castle to the meeting room where he had met Lord Erol the first time. Ollivar was afraid the old sorcerer would want to see his spell book to check on the ritual for binding major demons and devils, and accordingly he had left the book in his room. No point fanning the flames of the old man's lust for knowledge. Of course the sorcerer might have the watch entering Ollivar's home even now, seeking the spell book, but that was a chance Ollivar would have to tumble to.

The meeting room was much the same as it had been the previous time. This time there was one knight at the table (Ollivar couldn't remember if he was one of the ones who had been there the first time), and the healer, and the old sorcerer. Lord Erol sat at the head of the table, as before, and he eyed up Ollivar steadily as the young man entered the chamber. The castellan nodded and said,

"I shall return for you later," and he took his leave.

"Young mister Teedy," said Lord Erol. "Won't you come in, and shut the doors behind you."

Ollivar did as he was bid and then stood before the table.

"Your proposition is a bracing one," said Lord Erol. "My son in return for a demonic war."

" _If_ the devils offer war," said Ollivar. "They may simply try to have me killed and not bother with trying to make war on Swan Domain. They are said to be disorganized and ineffectual most of the time—"

"We'd be pleased if you speak less of things you know nothing about," snapped the healer.

"The point is," said the old sorcerer, "the demons and devils of Hell can whip themselves into a frenzy at short notice and run rampant before an effective defense can be mounted. We would have to prepare ourselves in advance. Swan Domain is squeezed between enemies. The NaHrouz to the north, the soldiers of Swan Domain to the east, necromancers in the barrows to the west. Our knights are spread thin through the domain. We would want to head off an incursion of demons before it occurs, as you suggested. But we don't need your binding spell, mister Teedy. We have binding spells of our own to handle the task. As you might suspect, we have already bound the major demons and devils not to attack Swan Domain. But a white necromancer would be an affront that would have them bringing all their malice to bear on our domain. We would need additional bindings, and that would take weeks to effect."

"My son is slipping away," said Lord Erol. "With each passing day he grows weaker and thinner and closer to death. I have discussed this matter with my counselors, and I have decided to accept your offer. We have already begun the binding rituals. I want you to heal my son, if you can."

Ollivar felt a surge of excitement at this but only nodded his head a little. "I am ready," he declared.

"Then let us go. All of us will bear witness to your attempt, and be there to stop you if you try vile necromancy on my son. We have new magic at our disposal; you will not find it so easy to hold us in place, this time."

Ollivar expected this and nodded again. "I am yours to lead, Lord Erol," he said.

The lord and his counselors stood, and the knight opened the doors and led the way into the hallway beyond. This time the journey was not so far, just over a couple of corridors and into a large bedchamber. In the bed was a man of some twenty years or so, who lay on his back and blinked at the troupe as they entered the room.

"The rumors concerning my son are partly true," said Lord Erol. "He is paralyzed from the neck down but retains his voice."

"Another healer," croaked the heir.

"This is the one we discussed," said Lord Erol. "It is his turn to try."

"There have been so many, who can remember all the failures?"

"My methods are a little different," said Ollivar.

"So my father tells me. It smacks of desperation, to let a necromancer break my bones."

Ollivar went to the bed and sat on a stool that had been placed at the bedside. The counselors and Lord Erol arranged themselves around the bed, the old sorcerer closest to Ollivar.

"Bone has a memory," Ollivar began, but the man in the bed stopped him.

"Spare me," he said.

"The others may want to hear," said Ollivar, and the bedridden man rolled his eyes.

"Bone has a memory," Ollivar said again. "It remembers its proper shape, and it strains always to be in that shape. Even in those who are born twisted of limb, the bones want to be straight and pure. My method is simply to allow the bones to take back their proper shapes."

Ollivar put his hands on the heir's wasted arm and felt his way through the bones of the heir's body. The necromancy that Ollivar found in the books of the great library of Lord Otis was crude stuff, suitable for the making of bone men and bone lords but not refined enough for medicine. Ollivar had taken half a year to rewrite and refine the magic to allow the healing of broken bones, even with catastrophic bone breakage such as afflicted the heir.

"This is going to take time," said Ollivar. "The breakage is extreme and spread all up and down the spine."

"We know this already," said the healer. "Can your magic do anything for him?"

"I'm sorry to say I won't know without spending several hours with the heir," he said.

"We have set aside the morning," said Lord Erol. "And we can set aside the afternoon as well."

"Very well," said Ollivar. "This will be uncomfortable for your heir but not painful. The bones must be moved back into position, where they belong. That is what my magic does that others could not do."

He kept his hands on the heir, and time flowed past. The bones of the heir's back were not merely broken, they were jumbled. The spinal cord was not merely severed but was torn to pieces, and Ollivar's magic did not extend to flesh. Ah, well, he knew this would almost certainly be the case. After perhaps an hour and a half of sitting quietly with the heir and exploring the breakages, he began the magic to put the heir's spine back to rights. The spell was a lengthy one, calling upon the memory of the bones to bring them back to their rightful place. Since the spine had healed badly, there was now scar tissue in inconvenient places, preventing the bones from moving back into position. Ollivar turned from the heir and said,

"You have a salamander ring?"

"Yes," said Lord Erol, and took a small silver ring out of a pouch at his waist. Ollivar palmed the ring and then slid it over the heir's finger. The ring began to work immediately, dissolving the scar tissue and allowing the bones to move. The heir's spine knitted itself whole again, all the bones properly lined up in place. The salamander ring regrew the torn ligaments and muscle and other tissue. Hours passed. The healer from time to time cast a minor spell to check for necromantic corruption; finding none, she made only small comments on the progress of Ollivar's magic.

The castellan came, and Lord Erol cancelled his afternoon appointments. Lord Erol's healer came and put her hand under the heir's back and gasped to feel the spine in its proper position.

"Now it's up to the salamander ring," said Ollivar. "My role is finished."

"Stay," said Lord Erol. "I would see this through."

"As you wish," said Ollivar.

The salamander ring regrew the severed pieces of the spinal cord and knitted them together to form a long central nerve once more. The heir had been sleeping through much of the procedure but now awakened and began speaking about how good his back felt.

"I haven't felt anything below my neck in three years," said the heir. He raised an arm and made a cry of fear that made Ollivar's hair stand on end; then he dragged aside the covers and stared at his feet. The toes of one foot began to wiggle, then the other foot did the same.

"Father!" cried the heir, and Lord Erol swept up to the bed and clasped his bone-thin son to his bosom. The heir's head flopped weakly, and his arms hung limp at his sides, but there was no doubt that he was whole again. There were tears in Lord Erol's eyes as he kissed his son on the cheeks, and he gasped out,

"You shall have your payments, necromancer. A hundred healers have tried their arts, and all of them were found lacking. The domain will prepare for retaliation from the demons and devils of Hell, if any is forthcoming, and the cold glances of annoyed angels as well."

Lord Erol summoned several manservants to take the heir down to eat, and they carried him off with Lord Erol gazing at their retreating backs.

"Come," he said to Ollivar. "Let us back to the meeting chamber. We have some items prepared for you." He led the way through the corridors, which were still a maze to Ollivar, and took them back to the meeting room. At the head of the table were a leather sack and a couple of rolled-up parchments, which Lord Erol took possession of.

"First of all, the simple things," said Lord Erol. His voice boomed in the small room, and Ollivar felt strangely nervous. He hadn't doubted his magic, but he had doubted Lord Erol, and he still did. It would be easiest for him to have Ollivar burned at the stake right now, as a necromancer, and the healing said to be done by the palace healer, with new magic from her patron angel. This would avoid the wrath of the demons and devils and would prevent Ollivar from setting a claim to rewards. People tended to do what was easiest and most convenient, not what was difficult and costly, and Ollivar could feel the flames licking his feet as Lord Erol handed over the bag of coins.

"Your coinage," he said. "Two hundred silver, eight gold."

Ollivar took the sack and hefted it, then set it down.

"And title to the lands of Peach Orchard Valley, in perpetuity, to yourself and your heirs," said Lord Erol. "Again, a simple thing." He held out one of the scrolls to Ollivar, who took it and slipped it into a pocket.

Some of the anxiety eased from him. Lord Erol had a reputation as an honest man, but Ollivar had heard that butchers and brutes wove such reputations about themselves as they tried to disguise their own natures. The only things Ollivar knew of Lord Erol were the hearsay he had picked up on the streets, and that was worse than no news at all, full as it was of the rumors started by Lord Erol's retainers for the benefit of their lord. But it appeared that Lord Erol meant to compensate Ollivar fairly for his healing craft, so perhaps there was nothing to trouble him?

"Now the more problematic reward for your endeavors," said Lord Erol. He held up the last item, another rolled-up scroll bound with a royal purple ribbon, and handed it to Ollivar. "This is the title of baron, to be yours until revoked by myself or my heirs. It is effective immediately and entitles you to collect taxes from the peasants of Peach Orchard Valley as their landlord and my representative."

"Why problematic, my lord?" asked Ollivar.

"You have no experience with the nobility, am I correct?" said Lord Erol. "Much less becoming one yourself. There is much to know. If I wanted your appointment to be accompanied by much noise, I would assign you to one of my barons, so you could learn the rudiments of the position. Then you would be introduced to other barons and would have the chance to see what a barony entails. But I want to be more cautious than this. I have informed the two barons in the town of Hopp as to your presence and...disposition, and I have notified the higher nobility of that area as to your presence as well. I'm afraid you are going to attract attention, Ollivar Teedy, and you will be in danger from the nobility, who will want to put you to the stake. You are forbidden to kill them; mark that well, young necromancer. You will have a page waiting for you in the Valley; he worked with the captain of the knights that were stationed there. You are due ten knights as a baron, but they will be a while in coming, I fear. We must find the right men. For your first year or so you will be the sole law in Peach Orchard Valley, and the only force the Valley possesses. What say you?"

"I had planned to raise a fighting force," said Ollivar.

"Bone men?"

"I call mine, skeleton warriors. I will have to mark them so the people of the valley know the friendly ones from hostile ones... A few of those should secure the valley from hostile forces."

"I will insist that you raise no more than five hundred bone men...skeleton warriors...from the barrows," said Lord Erol.

"And workmen, as well," said Ollivar.

"Bone men as workmen? I've never heard of that," said the old sorcerer.

"As I said last time, I have been rewriting the spells. Also, researching new magic. There is no reason an animated skeleton cannot move stones and chop trees and be otherwise useful to me," said Ollivar. "Peach Orchard Valley will be alive with magic."

Lord Erol took this in and looked nonplussed, but after a moment he recovered himself and said, "And now, one final matter. You will no doubt attract attention from the spirit world, as a result of your actions on my behalf. I would make it more difficult for the spirits to find you and make trouble for you. So, a last gift." Lord Erol reached into another pouch at his waist and took forth a slender golden ring. "This ring renders you invisible to spirits. The more powerful ones can still find you if they really set their wills to it, but it will be beyond most of them. Take it with my blessings."

Ollivar reached out and took the proffered ring and slid it onto his finger. There was no change that he could tell, and he resisted the impulse to wave his hands around.

"Thank you," he said simply.

"Now, it's time to get you on your way," said the old sorcerer. "There is a merchant caravan returning to Peach Orchard Valley at the end of the month. The distance is only about a hundred kilometers, which is a three day journey of moderate travelling days. Your page will meet you at the Valley and give you instruction as to your duties and responsibilities. He's a boy from the Valley itself; he knows the families there and their dispositions."

"I cannot thank you enough for all the gifts, and the good advice," said Ollivar.

"Keep your wits about you, young man, and try to survive the first year of your time in the Valley," said the old sorcerer. "Once you're accepted it will be easier on you."

"You have the faintest aura of corruption to you," said the healer. "It must be the spells you have been looking at, in the unholy books. As soon as you can, find a healer who can scrub your soul clean of this taint, before it becomes a sickness that eats you alive."

"When treating with the nobility, be forthright and direct," said the knight, who had been silent this whole day. "State your case firmly and clearly, and don't let them push you around. Threats of force will probably be useful, and your magic will need to be felt."

"Go," said Lord Erol, and Ollivar looked around and saw the castellan standing near the doors, ready to lead him out of the castle. Neat trick, that, summoning the man just as he was needed. Ollivar figured the sorcerer had some way of doing it, some little twist of magic or other. "We appreciate your service to my domain."

Ollivar followed the castellan out of the chamber and through the halls of the castle and out into the courtyard.

"The heir has a burr toward necromancy," the castellan said to him, as they approached the street. "He will try to turn his father on you, lad. Lord Erol won't forget a good turn that quickly, but you should watch yourself when the heir's around."

Then they were back at the front gate, and Ollivar took his leave of the castellan and entered the street once more. The journey back to his mother's house was a thoughtful one. Ollivar wasn't certain how his mother would take his news. He would propose moving them all to the Valley, but he didn't think she would want to leave her friends in the city to go to some tiny hamlet far away from everyone she knew. He would prefer to have his mother and sister close at hand, where he could keep an eye on them, but he had to be ready for her refusal to go. He sighed. All he could do was lay out his case and let her decide. What had the old sorcerer said, the first year would be the hardest? That sounded reasonable to Ollivar. A white necromancer was the stuff of legends, people didn't expect to meet one in the flesh. There would be confusion, for a while. He wondered if he'd have to kill any nobles during his first year; mayhaps he could get away with merely crippling them, instead.

Ollivar returned to his mother's home and told her about his healing Lord Erol's heir and the lands which Ollivar had been given dominion over. He told her that all those books he had been mulling over for the past five years were books of necromancy, and he was a white necromancer. Lilac Teedy listened to all this impassively, clucking her tongue now and again or asking the occasional sharp question as her son shared his secrets with his mother.

"I am going to take possession of Peach Orchard Valley in three weeks," Ollivar told his mother. "I would like you to come with me, mother, and Jenet as well. I'm not sure it would be safe for you back here, once word gets out that I am a necromancer."

"My friends know us," said Lilac Teedy. "No one else's opinion is important to me. What of your friends, Ollivar? The young men you hang about with?"

"Mere acquaintances, mother. My real friends have been my books."

"No ties to cut that will sting, then," said Lilac.

"No. Jenet has her friends, but she is young enough to move to the valley with us and not suffer unduly for the change," said Ollivar.

"I'm not going," said Lilac. "All my friends are here in Calivandamar. And I think it's best to keep Jenet with her mother, for now. It's time you broke away and began your adult life, anyway. Past time, actually. I'm sorry you're going so far away, a hundred kilometers is far enough to prevent our seeing each other very often. You won't forget your poor women, will you, Ollivar?"

Ollivar sighed. He'd expected this outcome but wasn't happy for it. He liked his mother, and he loved his sister fiercely.

"I'll send money, mother, and I'll come visit from time to time." His heart felt heavy at the words. He was really going to leave them, then, after seventeen years of living with his family he was striking out on his own. This prospect excited most of the young men Ollivar knew, but it didn't excite him. He was doing it because he had to, not because he yearned to be free of his family. The best place for a necromancer was the barrows, and the best place for the barrows was Peach Orchard Valley. He knew his magic would be of great benefit to the people of that place; once they got used to him they should be glad to have him. He was going to have to start completely over, with new people in a new place, without his mother or little sister to encourage him.

"And where will you be getting money from, robbing the barrows?"

"I think some treasure hunting is in order, yes," said Ollivar. "I have to open the barrows anyway, to get at the skeletons inside. I am going to animate a strong defensive force for my valley. Lord Erol granted me five hundred skeletons for a fighting force; I don't think he understood how powerful my skeleton warriors are, as compared to bone men."

"Mayhaps you shouldn't tell me these things. I don't know which of it to keep to myself and what to share with friends," said Lilac.

"Lord Erol is not a fool," said Ollivar. "His nobles will test my strength, I'm sure, and they'll be reporting back to him what they find. My task is to give them some surprises and make it clear I will not be an easy man to kill. Let them stew over what to do about me, so long as they do it far from my valley."

"I just wish I knew someone in Peach Orchard Valley, who would be a good companion for you," said Lilac. "This page sounds promising, though. You'll need to meet with the families of the valley and get to know your people. Seems like he should be able to introduce you."

"A lot is riding on this page," said Ollivar thoughtfully. "I hope he is clever."

"At least competent," said Lilac.

The next three weeks passed slowly for Ollivar. He checked the prices of armor and weapons and made arrangements to buy forty long swords and twenty crossbows and have them delivered to Peach Orchard Valley with the next caravan. This dug deep into his coin; clearly he was going to need to start another merchant caravan to carry all the equipment to the Valley that he was going to need. He wanted armor for his skeleton warriors, but a coat of ring mail was fifty silver crowns, and less armor than that was not worth the buying. For himself he bought a coat of quilted armor, which was for show more than anything. It wouldn't stop a sword or a crossbow bolt; it was for protection against wolves and bone men, if such should show up and get through his own skeleton warriors.

For a weapon Ollivar bought a mace, which should perform nicely against bone men. Ollivar had heard a thousand stories about the barrows and their occupants. The living dead infested the barrow lands, and treasure hunters who went there to look for the ancestors' gold were often massacred by bone men and jangling men and bone lords and all the rest. Most treasure hunters came in large groups, twenty or thirty men, including a dozen former soldiers who were ready to fight as each barrow was opened up. The better-equipped of such groups had a healer with them, to attack soul screamers and other living dead that were too powerful to take with steel. There were a hundred songs the troubadours sang, about treasure hunters striking rich in the barrows, and half a hundred lays about treasure hunters meeting their end among the mounds. Ollivar wondered if the people of Peach Orchard Valley hunted barrow treasure, or if they were content to let the mounds be.

He packed his spell book and his clothing, these being the only possessions he had; everything fit in a small travelling trunk. After this he informed his associates that he was moving away to Peach Orchard Valley to go treasure hunting and was pleased when none of the young men he knew wanted to come with him.

"Treasure hunting's like to get you killed," said one of his friends.

"Seriously, Ollivar, you should think again about going to the barrows. Lot of good men have died, trying to pry gems from those bony hands."

Most of the young men Ollivar knew were going to be tradesmen, or merchants of one stripe or another. They were not bold lads who were quick to adventure, and the extent of their squeamishness came clear as he bragged about opening barrows and claiming lost magic.

"Let loose a soul screamer, you mean," said another lad. "Be dead in an instant."

"Ollivar, there are a thousand songs about the barrow lands, all of them make point of the dangers. Earn your money through a trade, like an honest man. You'll be killed if you poke around those barrows for long."

"I'm going to make my fortune among the bones of the ancestors," Ollivar said in return.

His friends just shook their heads and wished him luck.

Ollivar's sister Jenet was quite upset at Ollivar's story and cried a good deal to hear that he was going away.

"But _why_?" she wailed. "You don't know anyone in Peach Orchard Valley. It's a far distant place, and you'll be all alone there."

"I'll have a page," said Ollivar. "I'm not dying, just moving away. I'll be back to visit, from time to time. I'll send you some money, from the Valley."

Jenet stopped visiting her own friends and spent most of her time around Ollivar, hovering as though he was going to slip away without telling her. She prepared little snacks for him, and was extra diligent with his dinners, and Ollivar wondered if he would end up doing his own cooking, in the Valley. He didn't really know how to do it, and so this would be another thing he would have to learn. Jenet's tears upset him a good deal; he felt like a louse, trying to escape his women folk. Never mind that this plan was five years in development, and the risks he had run to get this far. For his mother, his leaving home could only be a good thing. He ate food, he required clothing, he bought papers and exotic inks for his spell book. Lilac Teedy had to pay for all these things, and she provided support for him as well. He knew she wasn't glad to see him go, but her household expenses would be much reduced for his absence, and this would ease the burdens on her by a good deal. She would be able to take care of Jenet easily, until the girl was of marriageable age and found a suitor.

Ollivar was sorrowful as the date arrived when the caravan from the Valley would be in Calivandamar. He hated leaving his family behind and resented his mother refusing to come with him and to bring Jenet. He felt glum at the prospect of starting anew in the Valley, however good it might eventually become, and didn't want to be handing himself over to some bumpkin from the Valley for training. He cursed the plan he had put together and missed his little sister fiercely, even though she wasn't gone yet. The night before the caravan left, Lilac and Jenet made a big roast turkey dinner with plenty of vegetables, and they ate in cheery conversation. Lilac seemed more excited for Ollivar than he was for himself. Jenet cried a lot.

"You'll be wealthy, Ollivar," said his mother, with obvious pride. "Tax collection and everything! You've really made something of yourself. And here I thought you were going to be a layabout all your life, sponging off your mother and laying around reading books all day."

"I knew what I had to do from the time I found the old library," said Ollivar. "My destiny was written that same day."

"When was this?"

"Right after father went missing in the Winter's War," said Ollivar. "Something grandfather said to me then really stuck in my mind, and I used that to track down the library."

"Our family hasn't been lucky with men folk," said Lilac. "First your father died, then your grandfather slipped away. Now here you are leaving us. It's for the better, but that's not to say it's not hard."

"I'll be back to visit," said Ollivar. "Three days journey either way isn't _that_ far."

"Will you visit _every_ week?" said Jenet.

"Maybe every month, not every week," said Ollivar. "I have to get settled in at the Valley, after all."

"That's just a bunch of hicks, not like city people," said Jenet. "I'll bet it's _boring_ there. Promise you'll come back if it's boring you to death."

"I don't expect to be bored," said Ollivar. "I have a lot to learn, and I'll be looking for treasure in the barrows."

"There are monsters in the barrows, it says so in the song of First Knight McKellin," said Jenet.

"I'm ready for monsters," said Ollivar. "I'm not afraid of them."

"Send me jewels from the ancestors, and I'll make them into a hair net and wear it to remember you," said his little sister. "I'll be like a sister in a convent."

"Just be yourself, that's always been good enough for me," said Ollivar. He tried to enjoy his last meal with his mother and sister, but his heart was heavy. His mother brought out a baked chocolate pie, and they ate it in companionable quiet. Jenet burst into tears several times, and Ollivar had a hard time keeping his own eyes dry; it was only his determination to make something of himself that was keeping him going.

"I expect I'll come back at next month's end to visit," said Ollivar. "Do try to be here when I return."

Jenet said, "What if I'm not here when you come back?"

"I'll be here for a while, you won't miss me. The caravan comes on the thirty-sixth of each month and stays for four days before returning to the Valley. Look for me then."

This seemed to satisfy his sister, and Ollivar didn't have much else to say for the after-dinner drinks.

"Well, son, congratulations on everything you've managed to attain for yourself," said his mother. "This is a strong start, let's hope the rest of it goes this well."

Ollivar lifted his glass of port wine and clinked it to his mother's and Jenet's glasses. "Let's hope," he said, and the meal ended on that thought.

The next morning Ollivar said his farewells to his women and threw the travelling trunk over his shoulder and went to the caravanserai that catered to the merchants from Peach Orchard Valley. It was a big place, and he asked around until he was directed to the head merchant for the caravan, one Folquet Meridian. Folquet was around fifty years old, his hair just turning from black to grey, and he was a handsome man with an attractive face and deep blue eyes.

"You're the new baron for Peach Orchard Valley?" Folquet said, once Ollivar introduced himself.

"Yes, that's me," said Ollivar. He was still smarting after saying good-bye to Lilac and Jenet; his little sister cried and set up a fuss, which was hard, and Lilac had looked strained.

"Got a letter from Lord Erol's castellan, telling me all about you. Forgot to mention that you're so young, though. I got your shipment of weapons already, they're all packed up and ready to go. Sorry the accommodations will be rather basic, but that's the merchant life for you. We take this journey once a month and make it as comfortable as we can, but it's still three days on the road each way." He seemed about to add something else and stood there pondering for a moment. Then he waved down a stout fellow and had him take Ollivar's trunk.

"That trunk has a magic trap on it," Ollivar said. "Just so you know."

"We're not in the habit of going through our passenger's things," said the stout man, and he took off with the trunk.

"Lord Erol tells me you're a white necromancer," said Folquet delicately.

"Trying to make my way as one, yes," said Ollivar.

"That's like to offend the spirit world," said Folquet. "That's like to bring them down on us."

"I'm invisible to spirits," said Ollivar. "Your caravan should be safe with me."

"You have a control cube?"

"Yes."

Folquet considered this. "There have been bandits between Calivandamar and Hopp, large groups of them have been seen. I travel with twenty caravan guards, all good men from the Valley, but some of these groups of highwaymen are said to number thirty or more. We could use some strong magic on our side."

"You shall have it. No bone men—yet—but they're coming."

"You're going to raise bone men in the Valley?" Folquet said sharply.

"Lord Erol has granted me leave to raise five hundred bone men for the Valley's defense. Plus, I will have knights in a year or so."

"Won't bone men attack the people of the Valley?" said Folquet. "I don't take it they're housebroken."

"Mine will be trained to leave the people of the Valley in peace," said Ollivar.

"Didn't know you could do that with bone men. Thought you just turned them loose to kill everything in their path."

"That's the traditional use of such beings, yes. Mine will be different. A new day is coming to Peach Orchard Valley, Folquet."

"A better day, I hope. Peach Orchard Valley is at the end of the road right now. The Valley has been inhabited only these past forty years, by those for whom Hopp was too crowded and close. It's hard to get a healer in there, or a sorcerer. In the winter there are always packs of wolves about, come down from the mountains. The barons in Hopp kept ten knights stationed in the Valley, but they were due to be pulled out before this caravan returns. You'll need to see to the defense of the Valley in a hurry."

"I will see to that first thing," said Ollivar.

"Lord Erol sent word to Hopp's barons, telling them you'll be on your way to the Valley and granting you passage. There's already been grumbling in Hopp as to a necromancer in Lord Erol's employ. You'll have problems with the barons, and Marquis Drost as well. Especially the Marquis. You'll be expected to visit the barons on your way through Hopp, Baron Teedy. They may be cagey about visiting with you, but you're still expected to try."

"I understand," said Ollivar. He'd thought something like this would occur, though he didn't want to be meeting with other nobles until he was settled in a bit. Right now he was naked and near powerless. He could handle a couple of barons and their knights, but they might employ a large number of men-at-arms to press their case. Only the word of Lord Erol would keep them from attacking him outright. People wouldn't care if he was a white necromancer or black, it would be all the same to them. Healing Lord Erol's son was just the first in a long chain of dangers that he was going to have to face. For that matter, the barons could have him poisoned, or killed by an unseen sniper with a crossbow. Clever men would have any number of ways of getting rid of Ollivar Teedy. There was nothing to do for it but to press on and make the best of things.

"We leave within the hour," said Folquet. "Let me take you to your place in the caravan." He led Ollivar through the caravanserai to a fine bay mare that was saddled up and waiting for him. "We have no other passengers," said Folquet. "We seldom have travelers to Peach Orchard Valley. When it's time to move out, one of my men will come and lead your horse to its place in the train. All you have to do is maintain your position. If anything changes one of my men will be along to get you sorted out. At night you will take your meals with me. In two days we'll be to Hopp, then it's another day to the Valley. Now, I have other pressing business, so good day to you."

Ollivar stood near the horse until the caravan started moving, then Folquet's man came and bade him mount. The man handed him the reins, and Ollivar took a firm grip as the horse began to move.

"You ever ridden before?" said the man.

"No," said Ollivar.

"Keep a slack grip on the reins, for this horse. She'll follow the other horses well enough, if you give her her head. She's a gentle horse, she won't buck on you or take off running. If she starts going faster than you like, as she might do, pull the reins and tell her, 'whoa.' That'll calm her down. Sound like you mean it when you say it, though, or she won't listen to you."

"Very good," said Ollivar.

Then the caravan left the caravanserai and set off in the shadow of the city's wall. Ollivar felt a twinge of melancholy at leaving his mother and sister behind, and he resolved to return to visit them as soon as it was feasible to do so. The horse set off at what seemed to Ollivar to be a slow pace and followed the other horses; Ollivar was about a third of the way back among the column of some thirty horses. The caravan guards weren't mounted but walked at a brisk pace beside the horses, along with the drivers. They were armed with crossbows and swords both and looked quite alert, which made Ollivar feel somewhat better for this expedition. Of course there weren't bandits or highwaymen this close to Calivandamar; they'd be along later in the journey.

The roads were filled with traffic, mostly farmers bringing grain and frozen vegetables to market, and the caravan moved slowly at first. It was several hours travelling before the roads began to clear and the caravan picked up speed. All that day the caravan plodded along under the watchful eyes of the guards, some of whom threw Ollivar looks he couldn't decipher. He wondered what the guards had been told about their passenger and if any of the men would be prone to shooting him with a crossbow on the theory that it was better to kill the necromancer before he got a proper start. Was he going to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, always wondering who was lining him up in their sights? A dreary life, that one. He wondered if the original white necromancer had had similar concerns. Considering that he ended up burned at the stake, any paranoia the man had suffered from was probably right and proper.

As evening closed in the caravan came to a large caravanserai on the road, with plenty of guards and a large courtyard for the horses. Ollivar let his horse follow the others into the place and then dismounted and handed the reins to one of Folquet's men who came for the horse. He moved warily across the ground, though it had not been a long day ahorse at all, and tried not to groan at the soreness in his legs and rear end. As he staggered toward the rooms of the caravanserai, Folquet came back to speak with him:

"Ah, Baron Teedy. How was the first day's ride?"

"Sore. Two more days of this, eh?"

Folquet chuckled. "In about an hour join me in the dining room, and let's talk over dinner. For now, let me show you to your room. As a baron, you have private accommodations. Only the best for the new nobility." He took Ollivar through the caravanserai and showed him to a small but comfortable room at the end of a long corridor.

"This is your room," Folquet said. "You must be worried about security, so I can tell you that no one will come to your room to trouble you except me. Tomorrow morning I'll come and get you around sunup, and we'll set out again. I want to repeat myself, Baron: no one except me will come to your room."

"I appreciate that," said Ollivar. Folquet gave him a key and then took his leave, and Ollivar wallowed on the large bed for an hour, willing his body to stop aching. The room was nice and warm, a small fire lit in the fireplace before he had arrived, and he had to fight not to fall asleep. After a while he got up and locked up the room and went off to find the dining area. He was still hurting, but it was a companionable ache, he reflected. In the dining room he looked around until he saw Folquet, and then he went and joined the man at his table for dinner, which was roast duck and potatoes and carrots. There was even a blueberry pie for dessert, and plenty of good red table wine for the drinking.

Folquet told him a little of the history of the caravanserai and how it had stood for more than three hundred years in that same location. It had been burned to the ground by highwaymen twice, which was why there were so many guards present. Currently there were two caravans lodging there, with a combined total of some seventy guards to keep an eye on things.

"Tomorrow I'm expecting trouble with brigands," said Folquet. "Word from the other caravan is that they were skirmished coming from Hopp to here. That's unusual. Typically bandits won't attack a large, stoutly-defended caravan, so these are unusually bold. Or desperate. Thirty men attacked the caravan and tried to make off with some of their pack animals in the confusion, but they weren't successful. None of the caravan guards was killed, but a dozen were injured to varying degree. Look sharp tomorrow, Baron. We're travelling into the hills, and that means plenty of hiding places for criminals."

"I'll ride with you, then," said Ollivar. "Up near the front."

"Very well. How many brigands do you think you can control?"

"I won't know until I try. I've never used my skills for fighting before."

Folquet eyed Ollivar up unhappily. "Thirty is a lot of brigands," he said. "They can surround the caravan and strike from all sides. If they have bows or crossbows they can stay a good distance from us and seize control of the caravan right out from under me."

"Did they use bows against the other caravan?"

"No. They used swords and halberds and battle axes. They appeared to be a poorer band of highwaymen, according to the other caravan master. But we might not hit the same group of bandits, Ollivar. We have to be prepared for anything."

Ollivar took a bite of roast duck, chewed, swallowed. "Too bad there isn't a graveyard around here, I could raise some skeleton warriors to aid our cause."

Folquet looked startled. "There _is_ a graveyard here," he said, "It's for those who die due to bandit attacks. But I don't think the management would want you exhuming the fallen caravan guards to turn them into bone men."

Ollivar nodded. "We'll have to do with my control cube, then," he said.

"I haven't seen you carrying it," said Folquet.

"It's a small one, special design. You won't see it in my hand." In truth Ollivar had cast a minor spell on his control cube and had swallowed it; it was now lodged in his stomach and wouldn't be moving from that location. The magic of the control cube was typically activated by having it in hand, but that wasn't a requirement, Ollivar had found. You just needed it on your person somewhere. By keeping his cube in his belly Ollivar kept his hands free for other uses.

Dessert came, and the men ate the blueberry pie greedily. It was a surprise to Ollivar how big his appetite was after the day's bouncing and jouncing around; he'd have expected to have no appetite at all. He and Folquet talked of the men of the caravan, how they were all from Hopp or the Valley, and how a once-a-month visit to Calivandamar was sufficient to make Folquet's fortune.

"I don't mean to cut this conversation short, but it's important to sleep well on the caravan road," said Folquet. "Remember, I will come to collect you come tomorrow morning. Be ready for adventure!"

Ollivar returned to his room and locked himself in and further moved a small table against the door. Might as well be cautious, in a dark caravanserai with plenty of armed men about. A little "accident" could see Ollivar dead in an instant.

He stoked the fire in his room with new wood and stripped down and slid under the covers of his bed. The room was enticingly warm and comfortable, and he quickly fell asleep.

Next morning saw Ollivar up early to Folquet's pounding on the door; he shouted that he was getting ready, and the pounding stopped. Ollivar rose and dressed and dragged the table away from the door. His body now suffered dull aches all over, even his head ached, and his legs were stiff and sore. _Two more days of bouncing around_ , he thought. _There has to be a better way to travel than this._ He'd heard of magic from air elementals that allowed instantaneous travel from place to place, but he'd never seen this used. It was just a rumor. For now, it was horses or foot or nothing at all.

Ollivar went to the dining room and had a fine omelet and cheese for breakfast, and tomato juice to drink. Folquet told him an amusing story of when he had come to this caravanserai as a young man and gotten into a fight with a guard from another caravan. Took a good drubbing, he did, and learned to fight with words over fists, since he wasn't so good at the latter.

"I was young and foolish but full of fire and full of myself," he said ruefully. "I think that fight is where I began thinking of myself as a caravan man. Up until then it was just a lark, travelling with the caravan to the big city and running around for a few days, spending money like an idiot. But defending the honor of my caravan from this other mouthy fellow gave me a sense of belonging. I've had that ever since."

"How long has your family lived in the Valley?" asked Ollivar.

"Since the beginning of settlement, about forty years ago. I was just a boy when we moved to Peach Orchard Valley. My father was a small trader in Hopp who was struggling to survive. He knew people in the Valley would need trade goods from Hopp, and the people in Hopp could use fresh food from the Valley, so there was a ready-made trade situation there waiting to be exploited. There were only about thirty families in the beginning, and for a decade they had it pretty hard. Then they got settled in, and more families moved out there, and today there are about a hundred families living in the Valley."

"What have the people of the Valley done about all the necromancers who come to the barrows?" said Ollivar.

"There were ten knights stationed in a long house at the mouth of the Valley," said Folquet. "That'll be your home, when we arrive. The knights rode patrols of the valley and the barrows and killed the fledgeling necromancers who tried to get rooted there. They must have killed fifty necromancers over the past forty years. I suppose necromancers are as lazy as anyone else, they want to follow the road instead of striking out for the wild lands."

" _Fifty_ necromancers?" Ollivar blurted. "I didn't realize there were so many."

"Not every necromancer causes a Great Disturbance," said Folquet. "Most are small players worshipping small demons who want to raise a quick army of bone men and kill as many people as they can as fast as they can. These are worshippers of annihilation, for the most part. They are neither very intelligent nor very strong. The knights found one or two of these every year and did them in. Most of them don't even have control cubes."

Ollivar felt some pride in his own skills but tried not to let this effect the conversation. He knew that in the city there were a dozen necromantic outbursts every year, and the city's knights had to put them down savagely. But that was something Ollivar thought of as a hazard of the big city. He knew there would be necromancers in the barrows, but _fifty_?

Folquet went on: "I'd bet there were more than fifty, Ollivar. Probably the knights killed several necromancers a year, for forty years. More like a hundred dead necromancers. You know there was a Great Disturbance fifty-five years ago?"

"Yes, there's a song about it," said Ollivar.

"That was before the Valley was settled, when the only people out there were trappers and treasure hunters. Always the victims of necromancers, those poor bastards. Well, the Great Disturbance started near Peach Orchard Valley and swept over Hopp. More than three thousand people were killed, both in Hopp and in the surrounding countryside. Very nearly the entire town was wiped out, only those who hid survived. It was First Knight McKellin who led the charge against the necromancer Broken Jade and brought that Great Disturbance to an end."

"I know the song," Ollivar said. "My little sister is learning it in school."

"It's a good lay, but we are acquainted with the details that the song doesn't relate. We in the Valley live in constant fear of another Great Disturbance," said Folquet. "We'll be the first ones wiped out in another attack. Without the knights to protect us, we're vulnerable to highwaymen and brigands, wolves, necromancers... I cannot urge you strongly enough to see to the security needs of the Valley first thing, Baron Teedy."

"That was my plan," said the young man.

"Come, let's be off. I want to get to Hopp by this evening, and we'll almost certainly be attacked by brigands today, which will slow us down. I hope your defensive skills turn out to be impressive."

"I will do my best," said Ollivar.

The two men quitted the dining room, and Folquet led him out to the bay horse again and saw him settled onto its back. It wasn't long before the caravan started moving, and Folquet came back and collected Ollivar and led him to a place near the front of the column. The two men talked for a while about Peach Orchard Valley and the families there, and Ollivar asked,

"What about schooling? Lord Erol has established schools across the Domain, but I understand that in the countryside many children don't go to school."

"We have a large school in the Valley," said Folquet. "There are about a hundred school-age children there. They attend classes from ages six to eleven, at which point they're getting big enough to help with the chores and start learning a trade. We have five teachers, two from the Valley and three from Hopp who live in the Valley now. We live in the countryside, but we're modern. My own children have children in the school."

Ollivar was pleased to hear this; he thought gaining knowledge of the world was good for people. Before Lord Erol only the children of the wealthy were educated. Lord Erol had instituted mandatory education for all citizens of his Domain. Each town or district raised a tax to pay for teachers and to maintain a school. Ollivar knew there had been a lot of grumbling over the tax, but the citizens of Swan Domain were by and large proud of their educated children, and now Egret Domain and Heron Domain and Cormorant Domain were also talking about compulsory education for their own children. Hawk Domain of course would do no such thing. The military road was still the road to success in Hawk Domain, with the largest army this side of the Eagle Mountains. Eagle Domain had already begun their own experiment with education, though they only required three years of schooling for their children.

The men rode along for six or seven hours before the caravan stopped for lunch, which was cheese and fresh-baked bread from the caravanserai and red wine to drink. Ollivar ate lustily; something about riding really brought out an appetite in him. His horse had been mild-mannered all day, and all Ollivar had to do was keep her pointed in the right direction. As they ate scouts came back to Folquet with news of brigand sightings about an hour's ahead of the caravan.

"It's hard to hide thirty or forty men, even in these hills," said Folquet. "They don't care that we can see them, because they know we have to pass this way. If anything, they think it'll make us frightened, knowing they're there. There are plenty of caravan masters who will pay the brigands to leave them alone, rather than fighting them. I don't pay brigands, Baron. They know that, and most of them leave me alone rather than risk losing men in a fight. Most of the brigands out this way are Hopp men who were former military. They have to watch for knight patrols, but once they've learned to do that, the money is good and the risk relatively low. So every year there are more brigands."

"Well, let's see if we can make the risk so high they'll want to give up that life," said Ollivar.

The caravan continued on, and it did not surprise Ollivar when, within the hour, a single man was found standing on the road, his arms raised over his head. The caravan stopped, and the guards moved to the edges and raised their crossbows.

"Here they are now," said Folquet. "Prepare yourself." He eyed up the man and called out, "What do you want?"

"It's sixty silver to pass here, Folquet Meridian," called the man. "That's the price these days, or the price in blood. Your choice."

"Shoot him," said Folquet to the nearest guards, and the men swiveled to line up the brigand in their sights. There was the _thwip_ of crossbow strings snapping to, and the brigand fell with three bolts buried in his chest. Ollivar's heart began beating very fast, and the world took on sharp edges. He noticed _everything_ , even the singing of tiny insects in the grass. There was a rush of energy in the young man which he could not identify as either excitement or fear but some combination of both.

There was a cry from the hills that surrounded the road, and men sprang up and raised bows toward the caravan. Ollivar noted right away that there had to be fifty brigands in this group, and nearly every one had a bow. He muttered his paralysis spell, and the nearest two dozen men froze in their tracks, bows half-raised. The other brigands rose up to peer over the crests of the hills, and the crossbowmen of Folquet's caravan targeted them with their crossbows. There were many _thwip_ sounds, and Ollivar saw one brigand catch a crossbow bolt with his face. Blood sprayed. The caravan guards moved behind horses and paused to reload their crossbows as the brigands loosed a volley of arrows at the caravan. Horses were struck and reared, shrieking, and arrows skittered around Folquet and stuck in the dirt track of the roadway.

The brigands could fire almost continuously at the caravan, but Ollivar didn't give them that chance. He paralyzed another dozen highwaymen off to the south of the caravan, leaving fewer than a dozen brigands to carry on the fight. The caravan guards were now reloaded and fired at the brigands, dropping three or four more, and the surviving brigands began shouting at their paralyzed companions to _do something_ to assist them. The paralyzed brigands of course were unable to comply, and caravan guards shot some of them as well. After several seconds of this the remaining brigands ducked down behind the hills and fled. The caravan guards continued shooting paralyzed brigands, until Ollivar said to Folquet,

"All the brigands you can see are paralyzed. The others ran off, I think."

"Let my men shoot a few more of them," said Folquet. "These scum have killed good men; it's time they felt death's bite themselves."

Ollivar didn't feel strongly about it one way or the other and said nothing as the caravan guards made massacre among the paralyzed brigands. Soon there were only a handful who had not been shot at least once, and many had been shot multiple times.

Folquet raised a fist over his head and gave a piercing whistle, and the volume of fire from the caravan guards slowed and then trickled to a stop.

"What do we do now?" said Folquet. "How long does your paralysis last?"

"As long as I wish it to," said Ollivar. "How about three days? That long without food or water will be a trial for the survivors. Maybe they'll not want to raid any more caravans, with that as their fate."

"I like the way you think," said Folquet. The caravan master waved and pointed toward the road, and men saw to the wounded horses and wounded men. A guard came riding up to him and said,

"Master Folquet, what about the remaining brigands? Should we take them prisoner?"

"No, Adonsis, we'll leave them paralyzed out here in the elements for a few days. That may cool their ardor for making trouble with the caravans. Compliments of our own necromancer." He nodded to indicate Ollivar. Adonsis, a big man with chainmail and a bushy black beard, said,

"This was your magic, was it, Baron?"

"Just a small effort on my part," said Ollivar. "Since we didn't have any proper bone men to assist us with our fighting."

"Angels preserve us from necromancy," said Adonsis shortly. The man stared at Ollivar for a long moment, then turned his horse around and went back to his position toward the center of the caravan.

For half an hour the wounded were tended to and bandaged and otherwise made as comfortable as possible. There were eight wounded horses, one badly enough that its cargo was distributed to other horses and its throat was cut, and nine wounded men, none too bad off. Everyone was seen to, then the caravan started up again and set out at a fast clip.

"This would have been a bad fight, without your magic," Folquet said gleefully. "Fifty brigands! A large number. They must have been reinforced by men from Calivandamar; I don't think there could be fifty brigands in a town as small as Hopp. Now this is a meeting that should get a song, Baron Teedy."

"I'm just glad my magic was as effective as it was," said Ollivar.

"Your magic was brilliant. I wish I could bring you along on all my caravan runs, we'd weed the highwaymen out of these hills in a few short months."

"I notice you were targeted by two or three dozen arrows, but none actually struck you," Ollivar said with interest. "Can to tell me how that was accomplished?"

Folquet sort of hunched up for a moment, then grinned. "Good fortune smiles on me," he said.

Ollivar thought you could spell that kind of good fortune "m-a-g-i-c" but kept this to himself. A medallion or a brooch, a necklace maybe, or a ring that turned missiles aside from their path...

The caravan moved along for six more hours, until they were in sight of Hopp, a small walled town in the foothills of the White Mountains. The walls were much bigger than the town, leaving plenty of room for the population to grow inside them, and were walked by guardsmen who hailed the approaching caravan and opened the gate. Folquet led his men and horses into the town and paused to pay a tax at the gate, and then it was on to the caravanserai there, where the horses were stripped of cargo and fed and watered. Ollivar and Folquet found their way to the dining room and had roast lamb kebab with carrots and onions, and cherry cobbler for dessert. Folquet was feeling expansive, and he told Ollivar about his page, Scotty Freedman, who was a fourteen-year-old boy who had been in the service of the knights who had been stationed in the Valley. Scotty was an intelligent lad who sometimes took on airs, Folquet explained, but he was well-liked because he listened to the people of the Valley and conveyed their concerns to the knights.

"A sporting lad," said Folquet. "Plays roundball with the other boys when he's not working, but that isn't often. Puts in long hours on behalf of the Valley, and at his age! If you're thinking of bringing more people to the Valley, he'd be on your side. He wants there to be a town in the Valley, like Hopp but even bigger. You know there's a river flowing through the Valley, don't you? The Peach Orchard Flow, it's called. Not a huge river, but big enough to host a town. Goes out into the barrowlands and joins up to the Bright River not far outside the Valley. Personally I think it'd be hard to get that many settlers to come all the way out to Peach Orchard Valley, but maybe not. It's only a day's ride from Hopp, which is close enough for visitations to take place. Hopp is getting crowded, they say, even though it hasn't filled its walls yet. People talking about moving; maybe there'll be another wave of immigration to the Valley soon."

Ollivar listened to all this with few comments. He had to see the Valley before he started making plans for the place. Folquet made it sound like a paradise, but then, he was from the place and was partial to it. Ollivar wondered what it was like in winter. It was thirty kilometers from Hopp, right up against the White Mountains, and had to be freezing all winter long as the winds blew down off the mountains. Ollivar didn't look forward to that, but it was better part of a year away, so there was no point worrying about it.

"The first families that moved in claimed the hills for themselves," said Folquet. "Later families had to carve places out of the forest. That was a lot of work, that was. Peach Orchard Valley is mostly forested hills. There are plenty of copses spread throughout the farmlands, along with patches of blackberries that the farmers have encouraged. Big blackberries in the Valley, and plenty of peach trees, as you'd expect from the name of the place. Nearly every farmstead has a blackberry patch and a hundred peach trees. People in the Valley pay their taxes to Lord Erol by way of blackberry wine and peach brandy. Delicious stuff, too."

"And do the people of the Valley treasure hunt in the barrows?" asked Ollivar.

"Nasty business, that," said Folquet. "Every generation sees some young men, sometimes young women too, go out to look for ancestor gold and gems. And every generation loses a few good youngsters to the living dead in the barrows. It takes deaths to teach them, simply a good scare won't do it. It was a bone lord that was let out of the barrows last, six years ago. The knights rode it down, but only after it killed three young men and a girl who were hunting gold. One of the youngsters outran it and got to the knights, and they came charging."

"I've heard bone lords can't be injured by steel. You need magic," said Ollivar.

"It was said the first knight had a magical morning star," said Folquet. "He took it down with that."

"And now the Valley is defenseless."

"Aye."

Ollivar finished his cobbler and drained his mug of wine. There had been no notes from the barons of Hopp for him when they arrived, so he felt absolved of the need to go visiting. It was a relief, really, from what he had expected to be an embarrassing time of it.

"I'm turning in," he said to Folquet, who wished him well and said he'd come by early in the morning to wake him.

"Tomorrow we'll arrive at the Valley, but not until evening, too late for you to have a proper look around the place," Folquet said. "It's a longer ride than the past two days have been, just so you know."

"Looking forward to it," Ollivar fibbed, and he made his way through the caravansary to the big room that was his and let himself in and settled for the night.

The third day of travel was more interesting than the last couple of days had been. Breakfast was eggs and bacon and fried onions, all very tasty, and the caravan set off at sunrise into the west. Around mid-day they came to a large stone bridge across the Bright River, which was well cared for and solid, and they crossed this and headed straight for the White Mountains, which now loomed above them in purple majesty. The peaks were sharp and were barren rock, and above a certain level they were covered with snow, which Folquet assured Ollivar wouldn't melt off even in the months of summer. The terrain they were travelling over was low hills, and within the hour they spotted their first barrows. Ollivar was excited at the low stone mounds; there were thousands of them to the west, north and south, barrows as far as the eye could see.

"I've heard it said there are half a million barrows between the beginning of the Bright River in the northern mountains and Bright Lake to the south," said Folquet.

"Where did they all come from?" said Ollivar.

"The black men," said Folquet. "The ancestors had black skin, it's said. It was they who built all these mounds, for their dead. Their cities lie along the eastern shores of Bright Lake. I visited one of them, that we call Ob, when I was a lad. Seven of us went in there and looked around. A strange place, Ollivar. A city of stone and glass and metal, with buildings that must have been three hundred meters tall once. Full of grass and trees and raccoons now, of course. There are rusted-out hulks of metal carriages here and there, and the remains of machines in every building. The ancestors were fond of machines." He shook his head in wonder.

"Was your group attacked by the living dead?"

"We avoided a couple of jangling men that were haunting the shores of the lake, and found our way to the city of Ob without meeting anything dangerous. We got home safe, too. Every generation a group of young people takes off for Ob, or Okolor or even Ona, at the far southern end of the lake. Most of the time these groups come back. Just a matter of being sensible of danger. About twenty years ago a young buck named Roald Asizzi led a group of eight young people to Okolor. They destroyed two dozen bone men and four jangling men, they claim, on the shores of the lake. Hard to tell if they were telling the strict truth or were puffing themselves up a bit. They had some serious injuries in their group but no deaths. Roald Asizzi is now a merchant doing runs to Hopp every week."

Folquet fell silent, and the caravan continued westward. In the early evening they came upon a small river flowing toward the Bright River.

"This is the Peach Orchard Flow," said Folquet. "We've made good time. In the Valley, no one has settled south of this river. All settlements are on the north side of the Valley, where the flattest lands lie."

They followed the small river toward the mountains, and as it grew dark they could see high ridges to the north and the south. A cold wind blew out of the mouth of the valley.

"Welcome to Peach Orchard Valley, Baron Teedy," said Folquet. "Those ridges enclose the Valley and define its shape. We'll be to your long house in a few minutes."

And indeed, within fifteen minutes they arrived at a large, long building with stone foundations and wooden frame, very solid and imposing.

"Here's where you leave us," said Folquet. He took a horn from his saddle pack and gave a long note with it, very blasting and loud. "And now everyone knows we're back. You can hear this horn three miles away, it'll reach to the far end of the settlement." He gave instructions to his men, and they brought forward several horses laden with swords and crossbows. Quickly these animals were stripped and the weapons were taken inside, to what Folquet described as a storeroom. Ollivar's travelling trunk was also unloaded and taken inside.

"This is your home," said Folquet. "Scotty should be inside, waiting for you."

"Excellent," said Ollivar. He slid down off his horse and handed its reins to a man. He was sore and stiff again, and he staggered around like a drunkard for a few moments before eyeing the building up. A door opened farther down the structure, and a young man's voice called out,

"Folquet?"

"Aye, Scotty, we're just heading home. Here's your baron. Treat him right, and get him a full belly, we've been riding all day."

"Cook's had a fish stew on all evening," said the young man's voice. "Should be superb by now."

"Go on, then," said Folquet. "Here's where your life in the Valley begins."

"Very good. Tomorrow I'll need five sturdy men who can handle a weapon to guard me while I start making skeleton warriors. We'll need to open a barrow. Fearless men who won't buckle seeing a bone man or a jangling man come out of those mounds."

"Let me think on it, and I'll send them to you at first light. A silver crown a day would be fair compensation for the risks you're asking them to take."

Ollivar turned from the older man and headed for the open doorway and the lad who stood there.

"Welcome to Peach Orchard Valley, good sir," said the lad as Ollivar stepped inside. The room was a large one with a big fireplace and a stack of wood next to it. A fire burned in the fireplace, driving away the cold night air. The room had stuffed leather furnishings in it and looked like a living room. The air was heavy with the smell of fish stew, and Ollivar was suddenly starved.

The boy had impeccably combed red hair and ice blue eyes. He was small for a lad of fourteen, but he held himself in a way that suggested he was worth paying attention to. He wore a green and yellow outfit with puffy sleeves and tight leggings.

"Scotty Freedman, I take it," said Ollivar.

"Yes, sir. The cook has retired for the evening, but she left you this most excellent stew." The boy went into a kitchen off the main room and made some crockery noises, then he returned with a bowl of fish stew, which he handed to Ollivar.

"Usually the cook handles serving up the food, but I agreed to do it for tonight. Cook is getting on in years and needs her beauty rest," said Scotty. "We knew you'd be in late."

Ollivar ate the stew, and Scotty got him another bowl, which Ollivar also devoured. Scotty fetched him a third bowl, which Ollivar lingered over.

"Tomorrow I'm going to start making skeleton warriors," said Ollivar. "The Valley needs defense, and I'm going to see to it."

"That'll be a strange thing, sire," said Scotty. "It'll scare people, seeing bone men in the Valley."

"Yes, but they'll get used to it soon enough. I'm told you have a firm grasp on my role as baron, Scotty. I'll be relying on you to keep me informed."

"The first knight who was here acted a bit as baron, seeing as there was no other authority," said Scotty. "The families in the valley tend to sort out their own problems without a mayor or big man or baron. When there are problems too thorny to resolve with goodwill, people take them to Folquet, and he renders a decision."

"Why Folquet?" said Ollivar.

"He has experience with the world. He knows both barons in Hopp and a baron in Calivandamar," said the lad. "He knows a lot of people and talks with everyone. He's familiar with every family in the Valley, and they trust him. So, they bring the really difficult problems to him."

"Well, I'm here now," said Ollivar, "And as baron it'll be my task to listen to the problems of the people. I hope to fill in wisely for Folquet. I assume the transition will take time."

"No offense, sir, but you're young. You may find that the older people in the Valley will still take their problems to Folquet."

"Perhaps I should encourage Folquet to then bring those problems on to me," mused Ollivar. "But first, skeleton warriors. Tomorrow, bright and early. What are your hours?"

"I come at sunup and take breakfast with you, then I work until sundown, most days. I take dinner with you as well. The first knight would tell me the problems of the valley and how he intended to solve them, so I have experience hearing such things," said Scotty. "The first knight was a hard man. People will be pleased to have new leadership, sir."

"Glad to hear that," said Ollivar. "Now, I'm going to turn in. Tomorrow will be a long day. Wake me as soon as you get here, won't you?"

"Yes, sir." Scotty took the stew bowl into the kitchen and washed it out and put it away and then excused himself and left the building. Ollivar made sure the fire was down to coals and then took off to his room, where a smaller fire kept the place warm. His travelling trunk had been set at the foot of the bed, and he took out clean clothes for the following day. The trout stew sat firm in his belly and gave him a contented feeling, and he blockaded the door with a small table and turned in.

The next morning there was a firm knock on the door, and Ollivar rose to find light streaming in the round glass window.

"You asked me to wake you, sir," said Scotty's voice on the other side of the door.

"Yes, thank you," called Ollivar. "Have my men arrived yet?"

"Yes, sir, they're waiting for you."

"Show them to the storeroom, so they can pick up six swords and four crossbows," said Ollivar. He heard men tromping past in the hall outside his room as he quickly dressed and pulled the table away from his door. In a minute he was outside in the hall himself, heading for the kitchen. Scotty had his breakfast set at the table in the big room; it was mutton and eggs and fried potato slices. There was an old woman in the kitchen, Ollivar noted; she didn't say anything as he went past but turned and smiled at him briefly.

"That's Gilenda," said Scotty as he served Ollivar his meal. "She's been cook here for thirty years. She says it'll be easy cooking for just the two of us, until the new knights arrive."

Ollivar ate the meal quickly and said, "We'll be out in the barrows all day, Scotty. No one is to disturb me, no matter how important the business."

"Yes, sir. I've spread word to expect bone men to be running around. People don't much like the idea, sir."

"Those bone men will be the Valley's defense until the knights arrive. And they'll be here as long as I'm here. They'd better get used to them in a hurry."

"I'll let that be known, sir."

Ollivar pulled on a warm coat and retrieved his travelling spell book and went outside to where the five men waited with the weapons. They were all carrying prybars and shovels as well. He recognized a few of the men from Folquet's caravan; the others were new. All, he noted, were older men, in their forties or even fifties, and all had swords or halberds.

"Good morning, men," he said. "Folquet has recommended you five as steady fellows who do not take fright easily. Today we're going into the barrows to open a stone tomb. You may have heard, I am a white necromancer. I will be animating ten skeleton warriors today, to act as the Valley's defense. I'll need you for the rest of this week, for this duty. After that the skeleton warriors themselves will assume this responsibility."

"Folquet said we're good for a silver crown a day," said one of the men.

"That's correct," said Ollivar. "I'm hoping you won't be needed, but I'm glad to have you there just in case something comes out of the stone tombs."

"We brought a white horse, sir," said one of the men. He indicated a horse tied to a hitching post not far away.

"Why is that?" said Ollivar.

"For soul screamers, sir," said the man. "If there's a soul screamer in the tomb, a white horse will let us know. You put the horse on top of the tomb, and it'll stamp if there's a soul screamer inside."

"Doesn't have to be a white horse," said a second man. "Any horse will do."

"White horse works the best," said the first man. "They're extra sensitive to soul screamers."

"All right, bring the horse," said Ollivar, and one of the men went over to the animal and untied its reins from the tree.

"Let's go," said Ollivar, and they set off. It was a twenty minute walk from the long house to the mouth of the Valley, and from there they could see the endless sea of stone tombs stretching off to the horizon. The sun was already up, but it was a cold morning, with clouds of steam blowing from each man's mouth. Ollivar hoped his coat was warm enough for this duty.

"All right, let's pick a large tomb and open it up. Anyone have any particular wisdom for which tomb to open?"

"Lots of these tombs been opened already," said a man. "Opened by treasure hunters in the past. But the weather's been inside 'em, so the bones won't be in good shape. Let's try this one." The man indicated a large mound. "Best to open them on the long end, sir. Gives us a bit of a warning of there's something moving around inside." He strode around to one end of the oblong mound. "Now's when we do the horse," he said.

Another man led the white horse unto the top of the mound and had it stand still. The animal breathed in heavily a few times, then snorted long plumes of steam from its nose. It didn't stamp.

"That means it's clear of soul screamers," said the man holding the horse's reins.

"Go ahead, gentlemen, dig out the end of the tomb," said Ollivar, and the men dug in with shovels and bit into the end of the tomb. In half an hour they had broken into a hollow chamber in the mound, and they stood back hurriedly and drew their swords. Everyone stood there for a while, waiting, then one of the men said,

"Jangling men make a sound like bells when they're moving around in there, that's what people say. Small bells. Bone men just sound like sticks banging together. Bone lords sound like creaking leather, I don't know why. Soul screamers don't make any sound, but they shriek as soon as the tomb is opened, so we know we haven't got one of those. Sounds like this tomb is clean."

Ollivar put his face near the hole going into the mound and peered inside, but there was nothing to be seen; it was too dark.

"Dig it open," he said to the men, and they dug out the end of the tomb until the hole was three or four feet high and six feet wide. The tomb was made of big slabs of stone laid out on top of cross-beams of stone, and was about four feet high. Skeletons were packed into the tomb, and Ollivar remembered something from his schooling.

"I'm told there will be forty skeletons in there, is that correct?" he said.

"That's right, sir, forty. Always forty. No one knows why the ancestors buried forty to a tomb, but they did. The treasure will be in the center, you'll have to crawl to it. There'll be a little hollow space in the middle of the bones."

Ollivar got down on all fours and crawled into the tomb. He pushed aside bones and half-crawled, half-slithered into the middle of the mound. There was indeed a hollow space there, among the bones, and piled up here was a heap of small gemstones and gold coins. Ollivar had a leather sack he'd brought with him, and he scooped the treasure into this. He crawled out of the tomb and said,

"There was some treasure, and you men are entitled to a share of it. I'll see to it your share is distributed as soon as it's valued."

There were broad grins from the men and Ollivar said, "I hear that the living dead travel amongst the tombs from time to time. The river tears open the mounds and lets them out."

"Yes, sir, the knights used to destroy those oddballs as were freed by the river," said a man.

"I want you to stay on and guard me," said Ollivar. "I'm going to be raising skeleton warriors for the rest of the day. This ritual requires my concentration, so you men need to be quiet while I'm doing this. As I raise each one, hand it a weapon."

"Aye, sir," said one of the men. "You mean your bone men use weapons?"

"Yes, they do," said Ollivar. "My skeleton warriors are more powerful than bone men. They can fight, among other things, and they can think in a limited way. It will take about an hour to raise each one, and I'm going to raise ten today." He sat down in the grass, cross-legged at the mouth of the tomb, and opened his travelling spell book to a marked page and began to read.

Time went by fast. Ollivar read, and pronounced strange words, and crawled inside the tomb again and touched his fingers to one of the skeletons that was in better shape. He crawled back out and continued reading, and it seemed like only moments before there was a sound like two sticks banging together, and the skeleton he had been touching crawled out of the tomb and stood up in the sunlight. There was a murmuring from the men, and one of them handed the skeleton warrior a sword scabbard, which it tied around its hip.

"Not to make small of your efforts, sir, but bone men aren't very strong," said one of the men. "A wolf can tear one apart without trying very hard. You'll need a lot of these to be the equal of the ten knights who used to protect the Valley."

"My skeleton warriors are ten times stronger than a bone man," said Ollivar. "I researched and wrote the spell myself. One skeleton warrior is the equal of a knight. We'll have the equivalent of the knight patrol by day's end."

There was more murmuring from the men, and one of them said, "Can it use that sword, sir?"

Ollivar gave the skeleton warrior a mental command, and it drew the sword from the scabbard and swung it in the air. Its swings were a bit clumsy, but it handled the blade well enough. Guard, feint, thrust, slash; it went through the basic sword moves and then slid the sword back in its scabbard. Ollivar had it move on top of the mound and stand there, and then he started the second one.

The day passed swiftly. Around high sun Ollivar stopped and ate the sandwich the cook had provided him with, then he went right back to making more skeleton warriors. By the time the sun was dropping in the sky there were fully ten of them standing atop the mound, all of them armed. They were, Ollivar thought, a handsome lot, their bones white and gleaming in the weak evening sunlight and their weapons shining. He wanted to armor them, but armor was very expensive, and he didn't yet have the funds. Maybe these gems and gold coins from inside the mound would afford armor for them?

Traditionally necromancers raised up bone men by the score, in a quick ritual that created twenty bone men in five minutes. They were not armed, and they were not armored. They were also not intelligent. They were given a simple command, usually to kill everything they came across, and were set off in a direction, and they attacked their victims by strangling them to death or beating them to death with fists. Bone men were weak and easily destroyed, and necromancers made up for this by creating them by the thousands. It was said that a competent knight could destroy a dozen bone men with ease, and an exceptional knight would destroy a score of bone men without too much trouble.

Ollivar's skeleton warriors were ten time stronger than traditional bone men and would stand a lot of punishment before breaking to pieces. With armor they would be even better. They could use weapons and understood simple commands. They could be put on patrol duty and guard duty and would remember faces they came across, so they could identify friends from foes. More importantly, they were tied to Ollivar's control cube, so they could notify him if they ran into something unusual that required him to make a decision. Lord Erol had granted Ollivar five hundred skeleton warriors, doubtless thinking they would be as weak as bone men. In fact Ollivar was going to build a defensive force that would be as strong as five hundred knights. He would have the most powerful army this side of Lord Erol himself, and it would be even stronger because Ollivar was going to make bone lords to supplement their ranks. He wouldn't be creating jangling men or soul screamers, as such beings were steeped in evil, but the living dead of bone were fair game.

Ollivar dropped his gaze from his skeleton warriors and said to the men,

"Aye, let's go back now. These will run patrols on the mouth of the valley, watching for wolves and necromancers. They're a bit simple, but they should be reasonably effective."

Ollivar led the way back to the long house, where he paid the men from his stores of silver and bid them return the following day. The skeleton warriors he broke into two patrols of five skeletons each and set to patrolling the mouth of the valley. The cook had a fine meal of liver and fried onions waiting for him, with peach pie for dessert and blackberry wine to wash it down, and he ate all this with gusto. He and the cook talked for a little while about Ollivar's favorite foods and what he liked for each meal, and when Ollivar told her, she said,

"You grew up poor, baron Teedy. Tripe is poor man's food, as is brain. We can do better than that for you, here. We'll try you on new things, steak and asparagus and artichokes and other wealthy man's food. As baron you should get used to a new diet."

"I'm willing to try what you think is best," said Ollivar. "We ate a lot of ham, growing up."

"Ham is good. Steak is better. Fish is best, and the trout from the local river is delicious stuff, as you saw last night. Now, if we're done for the day, I always turn in early. Not getting any younger, baron Teedy."

"Good night," said Ollivar, and the cook tottered off to her room. Ollivar sat up reading for the next few hours, going over the ritual to create a bone lord. He wanted to create one bone lord for every ten skeleton warriors. The ritual took ten hours to cast, and it could not be interrupted once begun, or the magic would go sour. Ollivar read through the spell, looking for errors or problems he hadn't seen before. There were plenty of errors, but they were all small and could be corrected as he said the ritual. Finally, as the fire burned down and the amount of light in the room dwindled, he closed his spell book and turned in.

The next few weeks passed quickly. Ollivar made a bone lord, and it took its place with the skeleton warriors and wielded a sword like an expert. Then he made more skeleton warriors, then another bone lord, and so on until as the end of the month approached he had a hundred sixty skeleton warriors and sixteen bone lords in his command. He ran out of swords and crossbows and met with Iacopo Grist, one of the merchants who made weekly runs to Hopp for trading purposes, and bought more weapons with the gold he got from the barrow. He also sent his gems from the barrow with Iacopo to Hopp to be cashed in; they were worth four thousand silver in all, and were converted to more weapons. Ollivar had bastard swords made for the bone lords, and gave them daggers as well, and these special warriors he bought quilted armor for. Only the best for his bone lords.

About this time Ollivar decided he was not going to return to Calivandamar to see his mother and sister for this month; he had too many things to do right here in Peach Orchard Valley. He wrote a letter to his mother and another to Jenet and posted them with Folquet, who promised to see them delivered when he went to the capital. He then wrote a detailed letter to Lord Erol, telling him about his skeleton warriors and bone lords and discussing his plans for the Valley. Ollivar also put in an order for a hundred swords and a hundred crossbows, which cost him a substantial pile of gold and jewels, most of what he had recovered from the stone tombs so far. He felt unhappy at not returning to his mother's house to see his women, but there would be other months to visit, and perhaps his absence would make them remember him better.

On the thirty-seventh of the month Ollivar was back on the mounds, having taken no days off and having been in the tombs every day since he had arrived in the Valley. He no longer used the caravan men for guards; he surrounded himself with a dozen bone lords and had them pull guard duty while he raised more skeleton warriors. After the first week of raising skeleton warriors, the children of the Valley saw Ollivar's bone men and came to watch him raise them; some adults came to watch this as well. Ollivar had no objection so long as they were quiet about it, so he could concentrate on casting the ritual properly. By the third week of the month parents were bringing children to picnic and watch the raising of the skeleton warriors. People were anxious about the raising of the dead, but Ollivar assured them, during breaks from the rituals, that these skeleton warriors and bone lords were under control of a white necromancer and not a black one. He began hearing _The Song of the White Necromancer_ hummed and sung more and more often and heard people talking about Lord Erol's judgment in allowing a white necromancer to take control of Peach Orchard Valley.

"It's like a Great Disturbance," said one farmer. "Everywhere you look there are bone men and bone lords about."

"So far they haven't attacked anyone," said a nervous goodwife.

"The baron says they're more powerful than bone men," said another man. "When will they turn on us, I wonder?"

Ollivar called a meeting of the families of the Valley and had everyone turn out in the field behind his long house; there were more than five hundred people there, and he enjoyed the chance to introduce himself to people and meet the residents of the Valley. After a bit he stood up on a stump and addressed the crowd, telling them he was the first white necromancer in five hundred years and that the skeleton warriors he was creating were for the defense of the Valley. He extolled the virtues of the Valley and said there would be skeleton warrior patrols everywhere in the coming month, up the sides of the Valley and in the rear of the place, against the mountains, as well as in the Valley's mouth. A permanent detachment of a dozen bone lords were to be Ollivar's personal guards. Ollivar was making skeleton warriors and bone lords as fast as he could, eager to see to the Valley's defense.

Now that he had looked around the Valley a bit, Ollivar had plans for the place, which he shared with his people. He wanted to build a town along the river, with some five hundred souls in it, and he wanted to replace the long house with an actual stone castle. And he had something ambitious in mind for the mouth of the Valley, a wall thirty feel high and ten feet thick to protect the citizens of the place from necromancers and highwaymen.

"That's mad!" shouted one fellow, well back in the crowd. "It would take a thousand workmen a year to build such a wall, or longer!"

"Once I am finished raising the Valley's defense, I will be creating skeleton workmen," said Ollivar. "They will be able to build a wall and lay in foundations of the castle. They can also chop trees for the buildings of the town, right alongside human workmen. This Valley is going to be known for its magic, ladies and gentlemen; we will be strong in sorcery."

There was some sort of disturbance in the crowd, but it was brought under control before Ollivar could intervene, and he didn't find out what it was about until some time later. After he was done speaking he had everyone line up and had his bone lords march past everyone, looking at their faces.

"My skeleton warriors and bone lords are learning your faces," Ollivar told the crowd. "They won't attack people who belong here, only outsiders. I ask you not to attack them, in turn; they're here to protect you."

The bone lords finished parading past the people of the Valley and returned to their patrol duty, and Ollivar dismissed his citizens and sent them home. It was almost time for spring planting, and the farmers of the Valley were getting their equipment and oxen ready for plowing and sowing. The weather had been warming up steadily for the last month, and Ollivar no longer needed his heavy coat for visiting the tombs but made with a light jacket instead.

After the people of the Valley returned home from the stump meeting, Ollivar returned to the stone tombs to make more skeleton warriors. On the thirty-eighth day of the month he brought a dozen bone lords armed with shovels and pry bars out to the tombs and had them dig the end of it open. As the earth fell away and the inside of the tomb was exposed, Ollivar heard the tinkling of little bells from inside the mound. Immediately he had the bone lords set down their digging tools and take up swords and maces. Two of them continued to dig, and Ollivar got out of the way and stood atop the mound. The shovels descended and tore the hole bigger, and it seemed to Ollivar that the air grew colder. Then, very quickly, a strange apparition came tumbling out of the hole in the side of the mound. It was tall, and shaped like a man but very thin, and its arms and legs were too long, and its fingers came to sharp points. Its skin was black, and its face was strangely flat, as though a great weight had been resting on it for a long time. Its eyes were yellow and rheumy. This creature stood up and surveyed the bone lords and then saw Ollivar standing on top of the mound. It opened its mouth, and there was the sound of little bells. Its hand curved into claws.

Ollivar's heart had constricted to see this thing out and moving around, but he remembered Folquet telling him that an expedition of Peach Orchard Valley young people had destroyed four of these things without losing a single member of their party. And they hadn't been surrounded by a dozen bone lords. He held out his hand and stroked the power of his control cube, trying to bring the thing under his control, but it shrugged off his magic and again made the sound of tinkling bells.

"Not my master," hissed the jangling man.

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to be destroyed," said Ollivar. He gave a small command, and the bone lords fell upon the jangling man and slashed and smashed it to pieces. Its head landed not far from Ollivar, and he looked impassively at the shocked expression on its face. Its mouth was sewn shut, he could now see, so how had it been talking? He ordered two of the bone lords back to the long house to fetch firewood and had them bring it to the mound, where he lit a large fire and burned all the pieces of the jangling man that he could find. Then he entered the stone tomb and took out the gold and gems from therein, and spent the rest of that day creating skeleton warriors.

Ollivar took pains to tell the story of the jangling man to Scotty, who spread the word around the families of the Valley. Ollivar wouldn't stop large, well-armed groups of men from treasure hunting if they really wanted to, but he could tell discouraging stories whenever the chance arose. He didn't fancy losing citizens to the evil dead.

Over the next week he thought often of the ugly expression on the jangling man's face, and was pleased to have destroyed the thing. If he'd taken it over, what would he have done with it? It was much more intelligent than bone men or even bone lords, and thus harder to control, and it would have followed its inclination to harming people whenever it got the chance. Ollivar didn't know if he could control the thing at all, beyond telling it who to kill. From the stories and songs he had heard Ollivar got the idea that most of the evil dead were only nominally under a necromancer's control. Certainly the spells he had studied had not suggested great control on the necromancer's part. Demons granted necromancers the power to make the evil dead, and they were expected to make as many as they could, and loose them, and to drive them ever onward, killing and maiming as they went. A necromancer's control extended no farther than telling the evil dead which direction to go and who to kill, which was usually "everyone." The necromancer was not granted much finesse.

The one regret Ollivar did have was in not saving the jangling man's head to put on a pole at the mouth of the Valley, as a warning to other necromancers and the evil dead themselves that their presence would not be tolerated in the Valley. There were five of the evil dead that were made by necromancers: bone men, jangling men, bone lords, soul screamers and shade lords, or shades. The magic rituals that created jangling men, soul screamers and shade lords were so bound in evil magic that Ollivar could not find a way to rewrite the spells to be clean, and so he would not make such creatures for his own use. Jangling men in particular disgusted Ollivar because their specialty was killing women and children with their sharpened fingertips wielded like daggers. Bone men and bone lords were easy to make clean, as they were simple creatures without guile or wit of their own. On the other hand, they were stupid; every day he was interrupted a dozen times by bone lords wanting to know if they should kill some citizen of the Valley whom they did not recognize.

The second month of the year shaded into the third month, and Ollivar stayed busy making skeleton warriors and bone lords. He was having to listen to the complaints of the citizens of the Valley as well, who came to the long house early in the morning to seek his adjudication on this matter or that one. There were squabbles over who owned certain cows, over who owned certain land, over who had rights to take merchant trains to Hopp, over who controlled the river's waters. There were citizens who didn't want to pay their taxes, and citizens who wanted the new baron to meet their charming oldest daughters. There were groups of eager young people who wanted the baron to join them to go treasure hunting among the mounds. There were fistfights among neighbors who had had too much peach brandy or blackberry wine, and one accusation of rape that was withdrawn by an excitable young woman who had thought to embarrass her difficult lover. There were many fearful comments made on baron Teedy's growing armies of bone creatures, and how many would there be, and would they be going to war on behalf of the Valley and against whom? Ollivar sorted out all these matters and many more by meeting for two hours each day with the Valley's citizens and by listening to Scotty's advice, since Scotty knew the people of the Valley and often had insight into their concerns.

From time to time it came to Ollivar's attention that Folquet was still acting as judge over the matters of the people of the Valley, and he allowed this to continue because it was a long tradition and because it eased the burden on himself. He went to see Folquet about this and asked the man if he wanted a new job as judge for the Valley, a handsomely recompensed position that would keep him home with the people of Peach Orchard Valley instead of running around all over the place, but Folquet said that if it was all the same to Ollivar he'd just as soon continue being a full-time merchant and part-time judge.

"The people of the Valley tend to sort out most of their matters themselves," he told Ollivar. "They only need me for unusual events, or for unusual people, like Grandee Stubbs. Goodman Stubbs keeps trying to grab his neighbors' cows, and it falls to me to keep him sorted out."

"I'm surprised he hasn't come to me with such clabbertrap yet," said Ollivar.

"He's not tired of trying my patience," said Folquet. "Once he hears of your reputation for fairness, he'll doubtless come to you in an attempt to make off with what belongs to others."

A more serious matter, to Ollivar's way of thinking, was the group of young people who wanted to go treasure hunting in the barrows. There were a dozen of them, none older than twenty, armed with farm tools that had been modified to serve as weapons against the evil dead. Ollivar's natural inclination was to deny these young people a permit to go out in the barrows, but he was young himself and wanted to encourage the young people of the Valley to industry. He issued them a permit but insisted that they take a white horse to the mounds to check for soul screamers and that they were all trained with their arms. Ollivar retained caravan guards to do the weapons training, and it was weeks before the caravan men felt the young people were well enough trained to their weapons to let them loose in the mounds.

Eventually the young people were ready to explore the stone tombs, and they dug up a mound and found none of the evil dead within. There were, however, forty pieces of gold and a pile of gems in the center of the tomb, which the youngsters promptly began squabbling over. Ollivar was called upon to split the treasure amongst the twelve supplicants, which he did with quick aplomb, and the young people were satisfied with their treasure and their adventure and now had a grub stake for their adult lives, so it all worked out well.

It was the third month of the year, and spring was giving way to summer in the Valley. The days were starting to become quite warm, and the sun hung higher in the sky for longer into the evenings. Ollivar continued to manufacture skeleton warriors and bone lords, but now he also began to research a new ritual, and that was to create skeleton workmen. He paid for a stone mason to come in from Hopp and teach him all about stoneworking and spent a week in conversation with the man, learning how stone masons dug rock out of the quarries and dressed the stone and prepared it for laying in structures, and how to lay out a wall of masonry so that it would be strong and sound. He learned the tools of the man's trade and how to care for them, and from all this knowledge he created the ritual of the skeleton quarriers. It took several weeks to prepare the ritual, once the stone mason departed back to Hopp, and Ollivar was sure it was full of errors, but he could refine it as he went. He had figured out a way to allow skeleton workmen to learn as they worked, it was a trick taken from the bone lords and applied to skeleton workmen, and he hoped it would create workmen of sufficient skill and intelligence to be able to dress stone and lay it out as he desired. Mayhaps he would have to pay some stone masons to come in and supervise the skeleton workmen, but he'd just have to see when the time came to it, how good his skeleton workmen really were.

During the third week in the month of Threer Ollivar was visited by Baron Harding of Hopp, and it happened like this: one evening after Ollivar had finished making a bone lord, he had returned home and was having dinner when his bone lord guards sent him a magical message that eleven strange men were approaching the longhouse on horseback. Ollivar wondered who they were and gave the bone lords permission to let them pass unmolested, and soon there was a pounding on the door to the long house.

Scotty went to open the door, when a tall, broad-shouldered man of some sixty years barged in past him and snapped at Ollivar, who was sitting at the dining table with fork half-raised to his mouth,

"You are the new baron, Ollivar Teedy?"

"And who would you be?"

"Baron Harding of Hopp. You were supposed to visit me before coming to this wretched little Valley, but I suppose it slipped your mind." The fellow's tone was snide, and Ollivar took an instant disliking to the man.

"Actually, you failed to leave me an invitation at the caravansary, and I felt it rude to come by without being invited. You have knights with you? Scotty, would you see to the horses and get the knights to their rooms?"

"The roads are full of highwaymen, and only a fool goes out without guards. Since you didn't come to visit me, I thought I'd have to come and visit you in this miserable place."

Ollivar had already decided he didn't like this fellow, and his running down the Valley didn't do anything to further endear him. "What is your purpose for the visit, then, Baron Harding? Or is it strictly a social visit?"

"I see for myself you are making bone men by the hundreds. I'm ordering you to cease—"

"You're not in a position to give me orders, fool," snapped Ollivar.

The man's head rocked back as though he'd been slapped. "You'd better listen to me, _young man_ , because—"

"If you can't be a civil guest, go back to Hopp. Now, I ask you again, what is your business here in _my_ Valley? Keeping in mind I have enough bone lords handy to wipe you and your miserable force of knights off the face of the land?"

"You _dare_ threaten me—"

" _What is your business?_ " Ollivar roared. The door to the main room opened, and a knight came in, sword in hand. Ollivar gave a mental command, and a dozen bone lords entered the room and took up positions near the walls. The knight blanched and said,

"Is there trouble, Baron?"

The Baron gave Ollivar a look of darkest hate and said, "No, Rodley, no trouble. Return to your quarters."

The knight looked around the room at the bone lords and withdrew from the chamber. Baron Harding took a deep breath and then said, "I think we've gotten off to a bad start."

"No. _You've_ gotten off to a bad start," said Ollivar evenly.

"The sight of so many bone men in this place is upsetting. If you knew your history—"

"I'm well acquainted with the history of Hopp as stands to bone men," said Ollivar. "Since I find it hard to believe Lord Erol didn't apprise you of the situation, I'm not going to spend time informing you on matters you should already be familiar with. Or is it that you have doubts as to Lord Erol's judgment and abilities?" Ollivar felt he boxed Baron Harding in right and cleverly with that one, but the Baron shrugged it off with:

"It's _your_ intentions that are in question, here, _young man_."

"That's 'baron' to you, _Baron_ Harding."

"We're hearing rumors in Hopp of an army of bone men being raised in Peach Orchard Valley," said the baron. "As you'd expect, we're concerned."

Ollivar chewed on this along with his dinner. It's possible the baron hadn't been told how many skeleton warriors Ollivar was being allowed to make, so he said, "Lord Erol has seen fit to grant me five hundred skeleton warriors for defense of the Valley and offense against other necromancers. They'll stay here in the Valley, Baron Harding; if you see bone men in Hopp they won't be coming from me. Besides, mine are armed, which those belonging to other necromancers will not be. That is how you can tell them apart."

A sick look came over the baron's face. "You'll damn us all," he said. "Erol is consorting with demons now, is he? Has he already forgotten what happened to other domains that made similar deals with the devils?"

Ollivar continued eating his roast lamb and said nothing. This Harding was not very loyal, then, or was a bit foolish, thinking so little of Lord Erol's assessments and abilities. Maybe old age had made him soft in the head or weak in the heart, as it were.

"And what of the people of Peach Orchard Valley itself, what do they say to this blasphemy?" said the baron. "What says Folquet, who has a reputation as a wise man?"

"I understand Folquet comes through Hopp at the end of every month, surely you have spoken with him before now?" Ollivar didn't like this baron playing the fool, he preferred plain-spoken people to tricksters.

"I'd prefer to hear from you yourself," said the baron.

"You had your chance to visit with me when I was in Hopp," said Ollivar. "You chose to let that opportunity go. Now you are on my ground, in my house, under my roof, and by my rules. _My_ house runs by force of magic; if you can't compete you are at an extreme disadvantage here, _sir_." It was the rare baron who could afford sorcerers on his payroll; you could get a dozen knights for the price of one sorcerer. Ollivar hoped this fool was taking his point, but the man continued with an arrogant look on his face, and Ollivar figured he was going to play the simpleton all night long.

"And what I want to know is, what do the people of this Valley think of all the bone men running about the place? Perhaps they were more satisfied with the old arrangement?"

"That would be my business, as the baron of Peach Orchard Valley," said Ollivar. "Not yours, as a baron of Hopp. Now, while we're having discussion, I want to tell you that you are about to lose citizens to me, Baron Harding. I am going to build a town for five hundred souls here, recruiting from Hopp and from Calivandamar. I'm told your citizens chaff under your leadership, and want new direction. I will give that to them." This last was patent nonsense, but Ollivar thought to prickle the man a bit and see how he acquitted himself.

"Nonsense!" barked the baron. "Hopp is a thriving town. Everyone is employed, and there is enough building room and enough land for all who want them. Plus there are all the comforts of a town, right at their doorstep. You won't be getting many citizens from Hopp in your damned Valley, baron Teedy, and that's a fact."

Ollivar wondered how accurate the baron's prediction would turn out to be, and he swallowed a morsel and said, "Be that as it may. I've also begun a more ambitious project, something I think you might appreciate, baron. I'm going to build a wall across the mouth of the Valley and man it with skeleton warriors. Construction is about to start."

"That valley mouth is five kilometers across, if it's a meter," said the baron. "Who's going to do the work? It'll take twenty years to build a wall that large."

"Four years, I estimate, with skeleton workmen working night and day," said Ollivar. "Wall's to be thirty feet high and ten feet thick, a solid deterrent for necromancers eyeing up my Valley for the kill. Can't let Hopp have the only walls in the west of the domain."

"Have you got Erol's permission for this wall?" said the baron. "He won't take a fancy to fortifications made without his say-so."

"Folquet is to take my request with the next caravan," said Ollivar. In truth he hadn't thought to petition Lord Erol to build fortifications in the Valley. Wasn't it Ollivar's Valley? Why the bugger did he need Lord Erol's permission to build a simple wall?

"Rock around here is all basalt," said the baron. "We dug basalt for the wall around Hopp. Damned hard rock, that is; you need special tools to cut it. Expensive tools, young man. You'd better be prepared to lay out the money, if you intend to build a basalt wall. I take it you're raiding the stone tombs."

Ollivar was making good money going after the stone tombs, and this would be where he got the main share of money for construction. The ancestors had buried quite valuable gems in the stone tombs; they were worth fifty times what the gold was worth, and he'd just have to keep opening stone tombs for the funds. He worried about soul screamers, in spite of the white horse. Soul screamers were silent until they cried out and shivered your soul right out of your body. One of these days he would uncover a soul screamer and would have a precious few seconds to realize it and get away from it before it killed him outright. Damned evil dead, anyway.

"Of course I'm raiding the stone tombs," Ollivar said. "Taxes on a small holding like the Valley would hardly pay my upkeep, much the less the improvements I want to make. Plus, I need the skeletons."

"A wall isn't a bad idea," said the baron thoughtfully. "Four years is a long time, but you're right about necromancers wanting to wipe this place out if they had a chance. This would be the first place a Great Disturbance would hit, baron Teedy. Really, it's a miracle this place hasn't already been wiped out by necromancy. A wall is a good idea, in fact."

"I owe my citizens first-rank protection," said Ollivar.

"You owe your citizens a firm hand and a discerning heart," said the baron. "Tell me, how do you like sorting through their little difficulties?"

Ollivar tried not to make a face. "Mostly petty matters they can't sort out for themselves," he said. "Need someone with enough clout to make a judgment call for them, is all."

"You should try it in Hopp," said the baron. "I have a thousand citizens constantly vying for my attention. Glad-handers, brown-nosers, fools, hangers onto power, those hoping to curry favor or incur my debt, and on and on. The benefits make it worth doing the job, just barely, but the complaining can drive one quite mad. I say, have you any wine? And something to eat?"

Ollivar called the cook and had her prepare a helping of the roast lamb for the baron. A few minutes later Scotty appeared, and Ollivar sent him for a bottle of blackberry wine.

"Yes," said the baron when presented with the wine. "That's one thing this Valley does well, blackberry wine. And peach brandy, don't forget to try that."

"Already have," said Ollivar. "Superb stuff, that."

The baron dug into his food and didn't say much as Ollivar finished his own dinner.

"The knights had their own foodstuffs for tonight," said Scotty. "But they'll need feeding for the next few days."

"Baron, how long were you planning to stay?" said Ollivar. Now that the baron was relaxing a little, he wasn't so bad to be around.

"Three days should do it," said the baron. "Just want to see that your citizens are still alive and well, you haven't slaughtered them and made jangling men of them all. That sort of thing."

Ollivar nodded. "I can show you around the Valley tomorrow, then," he said. "We'll have to present you to the bone lords, so you and your men aren't attacked in the morning when you come outside."

The baron looked annoyed but declined to comment.

"Scotty has prepared a room for you, near your knights," said Ollivar.

"And what of you, where do you sleep?" said the baron.

"I have my own quarters, near the main room," said Ollivar. "You can tell mine by the bone lords posted outside the door. Kindly don't provoke the bone lords, they're rather simple-minded. Best not to end up spitted on their swords."

"And if I have to use the privy in the middle of the night?"

"Then they'll wake me to get permission to let you pass."

"Excellent. Good night then, Baron Teedy."

"And to you, Baron Harding."

Ollivar gave his dishes over to the cook for cleaning and retired to his room. A damned nuisance, having to keep this man amused for three days. Those were days he could be using to make skeleton warriors and bone lords, or skeleton workmen. He could get a start on his wall. He could get a start on his town. Instead of any of these pressing tasks, he was playing nurse-maid to an overbearing baron.

Ollivar slipped out of his clothes and tucked himself into his bed. Well, it was good to finally meet one of his fellow barons, he supposed. He wondered what the other Hopp baron was like, if the man was as unpleasant as this Harding was. This man was on the same social level as he was, and he acted like this! What would an earl be like, or a marquis?

Ollivar spent the next three days entertaining Baron Harding, showing him around the Valley and introducing him to some of the place's citizens. The baron insisted on meeting a dozen of the Valley's families, interviewing the heads of household to ask them about Ollivar's skeleton warriors and if anyone had gone missing from the Valley. Ollivar chafed under this intrusion into his affairs; he felt that Hopp barons shouldn't be talking to _his_ heads of families. The baron had only briefly mentioned Earl Hundreas, the earl who oversaw the barons of Hopp and now Ollivar himself, and Ollivar had the distinct impression that Harding was under his own authority and not here on behalf of the earl. This made him chafe all the more. The one good thing to come from this annoying baron's visit was that Ollivar was meeting more of the people of his Valley. There was in particular a young man around Ollivar's age, named Alain de Greyhaven, who was playing a small harp and singing when Ollivar and Baron Harding rode up on their horses; the young man gave a flourishing bow to the two of them and the baron's knights, and continued to sing for an audience of his sisters and some girls from nearby families who had apparently come by just to hear him sing. He wasn't much to look at, brown-haired and brown-eyed and of average height and weight, not what you would call handsome by any stretch. But his voice was excellent, and his harp playing was quick and inspired, and he tapped his feet to keep time to the music.

Ollivar marveled that he hadn't met or heard of this young man before and determined to engage him for some singing at the long house. After Alain finished the song he had been singing he began the lay of the White Necromancer, which Ollivar had heard hummed and badly sung many times since arriving in the Valley. This rendition was rousing and made Ollivar's hair stand on end as he thought about the White Necromancer and how he had met a bad death due to the lies of a healer.

Alain didn't get far into the lay of the White Necromancer, though, when Baron Harding made a sign cutting off his singing.

"Yes, yes, music is all well and good at weddings and celebrations, young man, but we had some questions for you," said the baron.

"Ask away, good sirs," said Alain.

"Have any of your neighbors gone missing? Have you seen any jangling men in this Valley since the new baron has come, and what do you think of all these bone men being about?"

"No one has gone missing that I've heard of, sire, and I know most of the people in this Valley. There was a jangling man a few weeks ago, but the baron destroyed it, or so I've heard tell. Burned it to ashes, as one must such beasts. As to the bone men, I prefer knights for the Valley's defense. You can talk to a knight, whereas a bone man is poor conversation."

"I see," said the baron, as he always said. "And what do you think of this new baron of yours?"

"I've heard he is fair-minded and plain-spoken, and that he is heir to the throne of the White Necromancer of whom I was just singing," said Alain. "The taxes are reasonable, he has seen to defense of the Valley against necromancers and wolves, and people are growing to trust him, or so I've heard tell."

This was an assessment which surprised Ollivar, for he thought the people of the Valley were slow to hand over their trust, and he took Alain's words to be something of an exaggeration.

"Yes," said the baron. "Everywhere we go, it is the same. No one has gone missing, no jangling men have appeared, people tolerate the new baron."

"Why are jangling men so important?" said Ollivar. "You keep asking about them."

"Because black necromancers kill the citizens and make them into jangling men. If there was an influx of jangling men I'd know you were killing _someone_ to manufacture them."

"If I was going to kill anyone, it would be the highwaymen who infest the land," said Ollivar.

"And you'd be cheered on, no doubt," said Baron Harding. "There is a pox of highwaymen, even in these times of relative peace. I heard you dealt harshly with a large group of them on your way to this Valley."

"Yes, I was obliged to use the force of my magic against them," said Ollivar. "Most of them were killed, and the survivors got a good lesson for their troubles."

"Glad to hear that," said the baron. "Someone needs to thin them out a bit."
"Was that all you required of me, sire?" said Alain to Baron Harding.

"That will do for now, young man," said the baron. "You have a good singing voice. Do come to Hopp some day, and play for me and my wife."

"I have never left this Valley," said Alain, "But one day I will travel."

"He has such a good voice," said one of the girls, gazing adoringly at Alain.

Baron Harding and his knights turned away from Alain and the girls and continued on their exploration of the Valley. That afternoon they insisted on riding to the far end of the Valley, up against the mountains, some fifteen miles each way. Baron Harding nosed around in the woods all afternoon, apparently looking for jangling men, and Ollivar humored him. They found nothing, of course, except some local boys cutting firewood and loading it onto an ox-pulled cart. Baron Harding asked the boys the same questions he had been asking for three days, and he got the same answers he'd heard the entire time. Finally the baron rode back to the long house with his knights and Ollivar and took a final meal in the Valley.

The next day the baron rose early and took his leave of Ollivar, leading his knights away toward the Bright River and the way back to Hopp. Ollivar wasn't sorry to see them leave, as they had kept him away from what he considered his more pressing duties. Now that they were gone he took his book of spells and rituals back out to the stone tombs, along with the white horse and a dozen bone lords, and began raising skeleton warriors once more.

For the next three weeks Ollivar manufactured bone lords and skeleton warriors, but his work was more erratic than he would have liked. He was thinking about Baron Harding and who he was reporting to with the results of what he had seen in Ollivar's valley. Earl Hundreas was the one Ollivar thought of the most, a man of whom he knew nothing, but he supposed the baron would be talking to a number of people in Hopp as well, and possibly writing a missive to Lord Erol while he was at it, as well. Ollivar was certain Lord Erol was going to be keeping an eye out on Peach Orchard Valley and wondered if the domain had started having problems with demons and devils due to Ollivar's use of necromancy. By now the sorcerers should have compelled all the known major demons and devils to give up plans for attacking Swan Domain, but there were plenty of minor demons and devils to take up this obligation. He hadn't heard back from Lord Erol when he reported in a month earlier, not that he had expected Lord Erol to write him, but he was eager to get news of the domain's troubles and now felt isolated in the Valley. Here at the end of the road news came only every couple of weeks, and Ollivar knew the domain could be having major problems that he would be slow in hearing about.

Ollivar now had nearly three hundred and fifty skeleton warriors and thirty-five bone lords under his command, and patrols criss-crossed the Valley day and night. He had patrols at the far end of the Valley, to watch for wolves coming down out of the White Mountains, and had them on trails on the ridge tops to the north and south as well. The mouth of the valley had a dozen patrols of ten skeleton warriors and a bone lord each, keeping watch on it. Now he was wanting a standing force of about a hundred fifty skeleton warriors to form a rapid response group, ready to go where the trouble was at a moment's notice. These would eventually be stationed atop the wall Ollivar intended to build, but for now they could stand in the mouth of the Valley to look impressive and scare off enemy necromancers.

As the end of the month approached Ollivar decided to visit the city and see his mother and little sister once more. He informed Folquet of his decision, and the caravan master told him he was always welcome on the runs to the big city.

"You're the best caravan guard we could have, Ollivar," said Folquet. "After your handling of the last lot, I'm sure my caravans will be given a wide berth, in the future."

So Ollivar packed a bag with clothes and his spell book, and when the day came he rode with Folquet and the caravan for three days and returned to Calivandamar. The ride was uneventful, and no highwaymen chose to make themselves felt. Ollivar wondered if Folquet was putting the word out in Hopp that Ollivar was accompanying the caravan, or if he was allowing the bandits to discover that on their own.

In any event, Ollivar arrived back in the city after three days riding and made his way to his mother's house, where his mother took his presence in stride and immediately sent Jenet to the market for the makings of a quick feast.

"I wondered when we'd see you again," Lilac Teedy said to him. "I thought you might be pretty busy out there in your Valley, what with your letter last month."

"I thought it was time to come back and see how you're making out in my absence," said Ollivar. "You don't seem to have curled up and died, mother, so things must be going well."

"Things are exciting right now, son," said Lilac. "The city is abuzz with news of you. Everyone is talking about the white necromancer and his creations, and wondering when you'll turn black and slaughter everyone in Peach Orchard Valley. I've lost two friends in all the dust that's been raised, because they say you must be consorting with demons or devils and thus are a bad influence on your mother."

"I'm sorry," Ollivar said simply. He knew how much his mother treasured her friends and was troubled that this had happened, though it didn't particularly surprise him. He'd figured there would be a reckoning, once word got around as to his existence. He was only surprised that it had taken as long as it had, for people to find him out.

"Yes, well, the people of your little Valley have a lot of sympathy here in the big city," Lilac said. "Everyone is sure they're soon to be destroyed, and people are wondering what Lord Erol is going to do to stop you once you turn to the dark."

"Have you had problems, mother?" Ollivar asked her.

"No, Lord Erol put out some sort of word about you being a white necromancer, and the story of his son's healing is going around. Other than some of my friends leaving me, it's been quiet. You hear the song of the White Necromancer all the time now, it's coming from every coffee house and pub and inn. Your sister says they sing it in school sometimes, and the children sing it when they're playing."

"That can only be to the good. People are curious, I suppose," said Ollivar. "I'm surprised we haven't had a flood of visitors out to the Valley, looking after my business there."

"They're afraid, I think, more than curious," said Lilac. "It's all well and good to talk about a white necromancer, but once they see bone men they become fearful. No one wants to be your first victim."

Ollivar couldn't think of anything to say to this, but he didn't think fear would win out for long. He supposed there would be visitors to the Valley soon, minstrels and the like looking for good material for a song, a new lay for the new white necromancer. It had been five hundred years since the last one, it would be good material for a song. He wasn't inclined to put them up in the long house; let the people of the Valley keep them in their own houses, renting out space and that sort of thing. Ollivar would be damned if he'd have a bunch of minstrels under foot in the long house. He'd mention it to Folquet on the ride back to the Valley, see if there was anyone who had extra space to rent to an outsider. A little extra income for the inhabitants of the Valley, maybe.

Ollivar stayed with his mother and sister for the four days that the caravan was in Calivandamar, and it went all too fast. His sister stayed home from school for two of the days, and the two of them wandered the city while he bought her gifts.

"Are the other children making problems for you?" he asked her at one point, thinking of what his mother had said about fear.

"No, people are jealous, Ollivar," said Jenet. "Everyone wants to be my friend now, and say they know the sister of the white necromancer. Mother's right, though, they all think you're going to go bad."

"The barons think the same thing," Ollivar admitted. "One of them came to check up on me in my Valley. He was looking for jangling men."

"You don't really kill people, do you big brother?" Jenet asked.

"Of course not. I just make skeleton warriors and bone lords to defend my people. Everyone will get used to there being a white necromancer, and then things will be more normal again."

Jenet nodded, and the two of them resumed their shopping.

Ollivar thought of going to see Lord Erol while he was in the city, but he thought this might be out of order. If Lord Erol wanted to see him, he'd send a runner to his mother's house, no doubt, or at least a letter or invitation. Since Lord Erol had been silent, Ollivar supposed the man didn't want to see him. Ollivar wrote a letter to Lord Erol, describing his progress in manufacturing skeleton warriors and bone lords, and discussed the stone tombs he was opening. He also described Baron Harding's visit and said that doubtless the baron would be sending Lord Erol a full report soon, so he would not repeat much of that in his own letter. He gave this letter over to a runner who promised to see it to the castle, and that discharged his duties to Lord Erol.

The time of Ollivar's visit to his women ran out, and he said his good-byes and had to suffer his little sister's tears, and he returned to the caravansary. Folquet met him at the entrance to the place and saw him to his gentle horse, and they set out on their three day ride back to Peach Orchard Valley. This time the days went relatively quickly, and there were no attacks by highwaymen. Apparently Folquet was correct, and word that Ollivar was with the caravan had travelled to Hopp somehow, and the bandits stayed away. Ollivar found himself vaguely disappointed. He liked the idea of clearing out the bandits and making the roads safer. It was a good test of his magic, and word would spread and build his reputation. The more beneficial deeds the white necromancer performed, the better off his Valley would be.

The caravan crossed the Bright River and then came to the mouth of the Valley and eventually to the long house, and the caravan men delivered the weapons Ollivar had ordered. Then he took his leave of Folquet and went to a fine dinner of veal cutlets, and eventually turned in to let his aching body rest.

The next day Ollivar went back to manufacturing skeleton warriors and bone lords, and for the next three weeks he was busy with this endeavor. Then he decided to get started on his wall and started manufacturing skeleton workmen and supplying them with the tools to cut into the hard basalt of the Valley's ridges. The first couple of batches of skeleton workmen were crude and inefficient, but as Ollivar worked with them he was able to make them stronger and better able to do their jobs. Now the work Ollivar had done with the stone mason from Hopp really told, as the skeletons carried out the work of carving out chunks of basalt and shaping them into blocks for the wall. The steel chisels the skeleton workmen used dulled quickly, and Ollivar made a few workmen whose job was to keep these chisels sharpened and functioning at their best. All this required more tools—grinding stones and chisels and hammers and such, and that took money, and Ollivar found himself digging into his stone tombs monies once more. He figured he was single-handedly keeping at least three blacksmiths in Hopp constantly busy with his requests for weapons and stone-working tools.

The skeleton workmen weren't armed except with hammers, which would do in a pinch, he figured. If it came to wolves or enemy necromancers, a heavy hammer would do as well as a sword. With all the stories the Valley dwellers told of wolf attacks he was vaguely surprised that they hadn't seen any wolves down from the mountains, but his skeleton warrior patrols were monitoring the Valley day and night, and so far not a single wolf had been spotted. He had been told they were worst in winter, when they came down from to prey upon the deer and elk that moved into the Valley to escape the heavy snowfalls of the high mountains.

Ollivar was manufacturing twenty skeleton workmen a day, which meant he was opening a stone tomb every other day. In a week he had manufactured a hundred sixty of them and equipped them and put them to work, and the long house rang with the sounds of stone-shaping tools working day and night. The skeleton workmen carved out blocks of basalt and shaped them at the foot of the north and south ridges surrounding the Valley, then moved them down into the Valley and put them in place. Other skeleton workmen were digging deep trenches into the earth to form the foundation of the walls. They were instructed to dig down to rock, in soil that was three to twelve feet deep, and the heaps of dirt from their excavations were taken and ramped up on the inside of the wall. Then the carts would come down from the ridges carrying half a dozen big blocks, and the skeleton workmen, who were much stronger then they looked, would lift the blocks out of the carts and put them into place.

In the first two weeks that the skeleton workmen cut rock the number of blocks going into place was laughably small, as Ollivar refined his workmen and made them more efficient. Their numbers were small, and they were clumsy, and they could not organize themselves but instead relied on Ollivar to organize them, which took more time and energy than he liked. Since he was in the stone tombs all day raising more skeleton workmen, the task of organizing them fell to the evening hours, when he would review all the progress they had made that day and would reorganize them to be more effective at their tasks. Ollivar would listen to the problems of the Valley people in the very early morning, raise skeleton workmen all day, and then reorganize them in the evenings. By far the largest number of them were concentrated on chiseling out and shaping the stone blocks, which was the most labor-intensive part of the job; moving the blocks and putting them in place took only a handful of workmen. The one saving grace of this type of workman was that they worked day and night. It always gave Ollivar the tingles to come out in the morning and survey the new blocks put into place the night before. It was like magic, this sudden appearance of finished blocks, and it was worth the faint chiseling sounds that reached him even in his stout-walled room in the long house and threatened his sleep.

The first few batches of skeleton workmen put out poorly-dressed stone blocks that were so miserable that Ollivar had to have them removed from the wall and re-shaped. As he designed new generations of workmen they got better at dressing the stone, and their blocks were permitted to stay in the wall where they were laid. It was distressing to see the stones taken down into the trench and put into place down there, but the wall needed proper foundations, as the stone mason told him, and this was the only way to do it. Stone needed to be laid on stone. The skeleton workmen with the shovels worked obediently and well, and soon the trench was twelve feet wide, three to twelve feet deep, and five kilometers long. It was in fact a kind of moat that safeguarded the entire Valley, and there were only a couple of places where there were dirt bridges left in place for people to come in and out of the Valley.

Ollivar wanted work to continue year-round and so had the stones laid in the trench first, instead of building up each section of wall independently. It was more important to have a ten-foot high wall across the entire valley than a thirty-foot high wall closing only a third of the Valley mouth. Ollivar wanted protection against enemy necromancers as soon as possible. Bone men couldn't climb walls, and even a modest wall would hold out everything but soul screamers and shade lords, which were insubstantial and could probably pass right through the wall.

The people of the Valley had grown used to seeing Ollivar engaged in peculiar tasks, and they came by the hundreds to watch the skeleton workmen labor on the wall and to watch Ollivar raise more skeleton warriors and bone lords. They were growing less fearful around the skeleton warriors as the weeks wore on and no one was attacked or killed, and one bold girl even tied pink ribbons to the skeleton warriors to mark them as the Valley's own. This confused the warriors, and Ollivar had to put out an edict making it illegal to mark the warriors or detain them from their duties, lest they break down.

On the last day of the month of Threer Ollivar put the first person from the Valley into the small jail in the long house. It happened like this: a young man named Forest Paden woke up one day feeling out of sorts and decided to take it out on the skeleton warriors, by throwing stones at them. The bone lord in charge of the warriors contacted Ollivar, who spoke through the mouth of the bone lord and told the young man, who was fifteen, to cease and desist, but he wouldn't. He kept throwing stones at the skeleton warriors, damaging several of them slightly. This made Ollivar quite angry, and he came to the farmstead in question and told the young man he would stop attacking skeleton warriors or he would go to jail. The young man gave Ollivar an insolent look and hurled a large rock at one of Ollivar's bone lords, and Ollivar paralyzed him and had a bone lord haul him off to jail. Ollivar then dispatched Scotty to tell the family what had happened to their son and to inform the family that keeping their son fed was their responsibility. So the Valley gained its first prisoner.

Threer gave way to Fourer, and the weather grew quite warm. Ollivar continued making skeleton warriors and bone lords and listening to the complaints of the Valley folk. A week passed, and Ollivar had manufactured some four hundred skeleton warriors and forty bone lords in all. He had started patrols out in the barrows lands, searching for necromancers, and had them exploring up to twenty miles away. The patrols ran into some camps of highwaymen, whom Ollivar had them summarily dispatch, but as Fourer wore on his patrols did not come across any necromancers. This disappointed Ollivar, who wanted to test his creations against another necromancer's magic. Folquet had told him that the knights who used to patrol the barrows had run into a couple of necromancers every year, and he was confident that this pattern would continue. Of course, other necromancers might be avoiding the Valley just out of professional courtesy, believing that Ollivar was going to go bad any day now and would slaughter the people of the Valley himself.

During the second week of Fourer Ollivar was listening to a dispute between two farmers, who were arguing over who owned a strip of land along the river, when something caught his eye. It was a young woman, maybe sixteen years old and abloom with rosy cheeks, wearing a bright spring dress and standing well back behind the two men who were calling each other names and impugning one another's integrity in front of Ollivar. She must have come with them but kept to herself, so that Ollivar hadn't noticed her at first. The young woman was a very pretty girl, black-haired with high cheekbones and a fine nose and delicate ears, and as Ollivar looked her over she reached up to brush her hair back behind her ear. Ollivar had never before had a girlfriend, having spent his last few years with books of magic and necromancy, but he suddenly knew what he wanted, as clear as fresh water.

The two farmers sensed that his attention was no longer on them, and one of them turned around to look at the young lady in question, and he said,

"Deena, go home. I don't need you here for this."

"It's all right, father, I was just going to talk to the baron for a moment when you are through. It's about the summer festival."

The farmer, a middle-aged man named K'lockt Flint, rubbed his face with his hand and said to Ollivar,

"My daughter can be very stubborn."

"I understand," said Ollivar. He listened for a few more minutes to the complaints of the farmers, issued a ruling which made them both unhappy, and dismissed them. The girl, Deena apparently, approached him. The hem of her dress was dusty, he noticed. Her fingers were very dainty, and long. She seemed fully in control of herself as she walked up to him and said,

"Baron Teedy, every year we have a summer festival during the third week of Fourer. There are games, and singing, and contests of strength and skill, and dances. We want your permission to carry on with the festival this year. My mother sent me to ask."

"Deena, is it?" Ollivar said. His heart was beating much faster, and he could catch just the faintest scent of her, like lavender. "I'd be pleased to give my consent to the summer festival."

"The autumn harvest festival is much more important, but the summer dances are a good time for all," the girl said brightly. "It's one of the few events where the whole Valley attends. There is plenty of good food, and of course you are the guest of honor this year."

"I'm flattered," said Ollivar. "You'll be there?"

"I wouldn't miss my place for anything," said the girl. "It's the event where you can meet people you haven't seen in half a year."

Ollivar felt a vague alarm at this, wondering who she wanted to see that she hadn't seen lately, maybe a young man?

"Perhaps you'll give me the pleasure of a dance," he said, and she looked startled but said,

"Of course, sire."

Then she took her leave of him and left with her father.

Ollivar went into the long house and got his book of spells and rituals and went out to the stone tombs, leading the white horse to stand atop a tomb as it was opened. The horse was quiet, and Ollivar felt relieved. So far he had never seen the horse paw at the ground, and he hoped never to see this happen. His bone lords stood guard while three skeleton workmen wielded shovels and dug open the tomb. Soon Ollivar was inside, collecting up the pile of gold coins and the little heap of gemstones that lay in the center of the tomb, and then he began manufacturing skeleton warriors for the day.

His thoughts were not on his task. The face of Deena, pale and lovely, intruded on his thoughts, and he found himself wondering about her family, wondering about her. What foods did she like to eat, what was her favorite color? She was a buxom little thing, so very pretty, and he could imagine some good uses for those dainty fingers of hers, most definitely. He imagined feeding her finger foods, feeling her tongue licking his fingers. It was almost enough to make him botch up manufacturing skeleton warriors, and only his experience in making them kept him on course. Had Deena been one of the young people who went exploring the stone tombs? Now he couldn't remember their names, and their faces were vague in his recollection. He didn't think she was one of those adventuresome young people.

The weeks until the summer festival passed quickly enough. Ollivar was making bone lords and skeleton warriors, and this task occupied his days. He was approached by Folquet Meridian about the summer festival; would he be willing to lead the toasts, and would he cut the first slices of wild boar?

"I'd be delighted to lead the festival," said Ollivar, and in truth he found himself increasingly excited as the days wore on. He botched the making of several skeleton warriors and a bone lord, because he was having a hard time concentrating, but he pushed on and continued to make his minions. He spent long days in the stone tombs and didn't get to see the preparations for the festival, and he didn't see Deena either. He growled about the long house and barked at Scotty so often the young man finally called him out for it, and he was forced to apologize. Finally the day of the festival arrived, and Ollivar put away his spell book and shrugged on some good clothes from Hopp and joined the merry-making.

The festival took place on the river flats, on a broad plain of grass. Pavilions were erected, and games such as horseshoes, throw-the-devil and darts had been set up. There were mud pits for tug-of-war contests, and hurl-the-hoop parlors had been put together while prizes stood by. There were long tables of food, more food than Ollivar had ever seen in one place at one time before: there was the wild boar and roast pig and lamb and veal and fresh fish from the river. There were potatoes sliced and potatoes fried and potatoes mashed, there were carrots and beans and beets and cauliflower and broccoli and artichokes. The Valley had two growing seasons, a short one for fast-growing crops and the regular growing season, and everything was fresh from the fast-growing crop selection. There were fruits as well, peaches in plenty and apricots, pears and apples and plums. There was a fruit called a papaya which Ollivar had never seen before and which he found he really liked, as it was sweet and flavorful, and he ate enough of this that he figured he would have the trots for a day or two.

There was a table for drinks, with bottles of blackberry wine and peach brandy and plum and apple ciders, both alcoholic and not, and there was plenty of cold river water and a chocolate beverage as well. There was orange juice and grapefruit juice and various plum and grape wines, and there was grape juice for the children.

Then there were the desert tables. There were cakes of all sorts, chocolate and angel food and vanilla, and carrot cakes as well. There were cupcakes with raisins and apricots in them, and fruit tarts, and a hundred kinds of cookies, including Ollivar's favorite, gingerbread. But most of all, so far as Ollivar was concerned, there were pies. There were chocolate pies and apple pies and peach and apricot and blackberry and red currant and plum and strawberry-rhubarb pies. Early in the day Ollivar tried being good and avoided the desserts table, but he saw a number of children gorging themselves on sweets and finally had to give in and try the peach pie, which was absolutely delicious. He noticed that while children were indulged, the adults only nibbled and picked a little, and so he followed suit and only broke his appetite without taking a full meal.

For a few hours Ollivar played games with the Valley people he knew, Folquet and Scotty and Alain de Greyhaven, the young troubadour, and some men whose troubles he had adjudicated and who challenged him to darts or hurl-the-hoop. He got involved in a ferocious tug-of-war but was on the winning side, which seemed to disappoint a number of onlookers who apparently wanted to see him dragged through the muck in his expensive clothes. He arm-wrestled with a man named Stobbin Dagst, who boasted he was the strongest man in the Valley, and promptly lost. Through all this activity Ollivar had a good time, laughing and joking with the people of the Valley and thoroughly enjoying himself. People drank plenty of wine as the day wore on, and became more extravagant in their behavior, and there were a few fistfights that were quickly broken up, with no harm done.

There were several artists from the Valley who were making sculptures of soft wood, chopping away the bark and shaping the grain with hatchets into ducks, deer, wolves and dancing girls. Ollivar watched all this for a while. The talent of the artists was amazing, and he was reminded of festivals in Calivandamar, which had similar feats of skill. In the big city, though, ice was the preferred media of sculpture, and there were painters and clay artists as well as sculptors. He found that he didn't miss the city as much as he thought he would. The Valley people knew how to have a good time.

As the day wore on Ollivar began to grow anxious, looking around for Deena and not seeing her. The entire Valley had turned out for the festival, all five hundred and more people were there, but Ollivar felt he should have seen her around before now. There were clusters here and there that were all men or all women, and he supposed she was sticking to these and not mixing. Children ran loose everywhere, screeching and shouting and yelling at the top of their voices. _Deena must have siblings, certainly?_ Ollivar thought, but though he looked around carefully he didn't see her. He had worn what he thought of as baron's clothes, to be conspicuous and easily found, but if Deena was at the festival yet she wasn't showing herself.

Afternoon came, and Folquet found Ollivar and told him it was time to kick off the banquet. Ollivar went into the food pavilion, where half a dozen of the Valley's prominent men waited for him, and said a short prayer for the prosperity of the Valley and the patronage of powerful angels and elementals, and he carved the first slices of roast boar and served them up to a line of children who had appeared spontaneously. The crowd clapped and cheered, and people took up plates and mugs and helped themselves, and the feast began. People made room for Ollivar, who helped himself to the roast boar and some lamb as well and heaped his plate high with food. Roaming around the festival all morning without a proper meal had left him hungry, and now he stepped out of the way and gorged himself. He returned to the food tables several times, especially for the pie for dessert, and ended up deciding that the strawberry-rhubarb pie was the best of the batch. Then he handed his plate and mug to a young woman who was collecting them for cleaning. Next he went to the pavilion where Alain de Greyhaven was singing and playing a flute, and as usual half a dozen young women were swooning over him. This just made Ollivar laugh. Alain's voice was in excellent form, and he saw Ollivar and nodded and immediately broke off what he was singing and took up a harp. He cleared his throat dramatically and then began in on the lay of the white necromancer, which he belted out in fine pitch:

This is the song of the White Necromancer

A ladies' man and righteous dancer.

His patron was an angel, an angel, an angel;

His patron was an angel,

Bright and clean.

Here he is as the boy named Stony Brook,

Sixteen years old, he found a book,

Of unholy magic, from demons bound,

Necromancy, through pages wound.

He rewrote all the spells.

Along came the owner of the tome

A demon by the name of Metronome

To claim the soul of this clever boy,

To turn him into the demon's toy.

But Stony Brook bound the demon.

Now the White Necromancer raised a thousand bone men,

Out in the barrows, out on the fens.

To the town of Hopp he caused them to go,

To take up patrols, back and forth march.

The people were terrified.

Baron Myrtle strode forth, with a dozen strong knights,

To defend the small town with all their armed might.

The White Necromancer twiddled his cube for control,

His bone men raised arms, they stared out their eye-holes.

Then all the skeletons bowed to the baron.

In those days Lord Prescott ruled Swan Domain.

He sped to Hopp, where it gave him a strain

To see all the bone men standing about.

"Test this necromancer's soul," he said with a shout.

A healer was sent for.

The healer's name was Summer Fox.

She was a sumptuous beauty, with auburn locks.

She tested Stony Brook for corruption begat,

And found within him a sickness the size of a gnat.

"He's rotten through and through," she lied.

At this time a true necromancer came forth,

With an army of bone lords and beasts of that sort.

His minions raced to destroy Hopp,

Ten thousand bone men which no one could stop.

Iron Fortress was his name.

The White Necromancer armed his soldiers with maces,

And smashed them into the bone men's faces.

They strangled the soul screamers and slashed down the janglers,

And ground the bone lords down to powder.

Iron Fortress was finished off last.

But there was no gratitude in Swan Domain;

They burned the White Necromancer at the stake.

His ashes rose into a sky filled with snow,

His soul went to heaven, it didn't fall down below.

And all for a treacherous healer.

Ollivar had learned the lay of the White Necromancer at school, of course, and he'd heard it many times in the Valley, but something about Alain's rendition chilled him. It was the young man's apparent glee at the burning of the White Necromancer. Ollivar was in the same situation as Stony Brook, surrounded by countless people who would love to see him destroyed, and wasn't it inevitable that he would end as Stone Brook ended, burned at the stake? Did it really matter that Ollivar was trying to pass himself as a White Necromancer? If not for Lord Erol's support he supposed he would already be dead. He was a novelty, a cheap novelty at that, and one that was not expected to last. All his accomplishments to date could be taken down with a single crossbow bolt, or a well-thrust sword, or a single soul screamer's cry. Ollivar found himself clapping loudly for Alain's song, but his heart was crushed with worry.

Alain went on to other songs, and Ollivar drifted to the storyteller's pavilion, where half a dozen old men and women had formed up story circles to tell tales of Peach Orchard Valley and Swan Domain. For a long while Ollivar listened to stories of the Five Year's War, and the year the wolves killed young Gorges Shattock and his brothers, and the year the knights barely stopped a necromancer before he flooded the Valley with bone men. The Valley people were proud of their history, short as it was, and Ollivar listened to it all so that he would know his people better. He heard hate in the voices of the storytellers, hate against the wolves and hate against the necromancers who plagued the Valley in years past. People died in Peach Orchard Valley, they died badly and they died frequently, and Ollivar vowed to himself that those bad days were over. His skeleton warrior patrols were going to kill the wolves and chop down the necromancers before they could strike. It was a new era for the Valley.

Late in the afternoon there was the blast of a horn, three long toots, and the crowd murmured loudly and began migrating toward the largest of the pavilions. A band had formed to one side of the tent, and people flowed into the pavilion but stayed out of the center. There were maybe four hundred people still at the festivities at this point; those with young children had grown tired and taken their little ones home, leaving mostly adults and older children to answer the call of the horn. People began to pair off and got out in the center of the pavilion and began to dance to the lively band's music. Ollivar cheered at the skill of the dancers, as they kicked and leapt and sashayed around the open area, and they spilled over to the outside of the tent and danced on the river plain as well.

Ollivar looked for Deena and was pleased to find her at last, off to one side of the dancers with a group of young women. She waved at him and came over to join him, which gladdened his heart considerably, and he asked her to dance, which she did. Ollivar wasn't a very good dancer, but the country steps were easy to achieve with a little practice, and Deena didn't berate him his clumsy moves.

"You're a good dancer," he said to her, and she smiled shyly.

"Fair, I think," she said. "My older sister Hilda can really dance. You should try her, if she's willing."

"I'm more excited by you, Deena," he said on impulse. His heart was starting to speed up, and he knew he was breathing hard.

"You hardly know me," she said.

"Come to the long house and have dinner with me," he said. "The cook is excellent."

"You're very forward, m'lord. Shouldn't we dance, first? You might find you don't like me."

"Tell me a little about yourself, then, and let me know who you are."

The music changed, and there were a few seconds of milling around while the dancers adjusted and then started a slow, cheek-to-cheek dance. It was perfect for talking, and Ollivar found himself pressed against her with his cheek to hers.

"I have four brothers and sisters, two older and two younger. I'm right in the middle. My family forgets I'm even there, most of the time. All the attention goes to the oldest son and the youngest daughter. My parents mean well, but they play favorites."

"All families play favorites," said Ollivar. "I have a younger sister, and my mother dotes on her."

"So you're the oldest son? Oldest sons are doted on, too."

"My mother is a seamstress in Calivandamar. She struggles to care for her children, and I was glad to move away and spare her the expense of feeding me. I miss my women, but I'm glad my mother will have more money now."

"But you're a baron, so her struggles are over."

"Yes. I've been sending her money, so the bite of the money lenders should be gone from her life."

"And you became a baron by your magic."

"That's what did it. I did a favor to Lord Erol, and he rewarded me with this barony."

"Must have been quite a favor."

"It was. Tell me more about yourself, Deena. What do you like? What is the favorite part of your life?"

"I enjoy picking blackberries, and swimming in the river in the late summer, and I enjoy my little brother Timmorn, who is ignored by my parents even worse than I am. He is a soulful boy and says clever things sometimes, just thinking about life. I like visiting my friends. I like getting drunk once in a while, if I am around good people. I like the Valley life. I live in fear of necromancers. Not you, of course, m'lord."

"My skeleton warriors will hold the Valley safe until I can get the wall built. Once that is erected, we should be free of necromancers. Let them stay outside the wall, and be cut down by my patrols."

"There are so many skeletons about now, and you keep making more."

"I have leave to create five hundred warriors, and I intend to do just that," said Ollivar. "We're the first place the necromancers will attack, and we need defense. Eventually I'll have knights, but for now the skeleton warriors will have to do."

"Bone men are killers, so everyone says. For now they obey you, but can't another necromancer just take them away from you and turn them on us?"

"No," said Ollivar. "It would take some very strong magic to turn my skeleton warriors against me. We needn't fear that happening, I think."

"The bone men make me nervous, Baron Teedy. Every time one of the patrols goes past I expect them to attack us. I don't think I will ever get use to them."

"Give them time, they'll grow on you. They're new, and different, and that's always an adjustment."

"And what of you, Baron Teedy? What do you like? Who are _you_?"

Ollivar could see her spreading word of whatever he told her, and so he thought about this question for a bit before answering.

"I like sunrises and sunsets," he said. "I have grown to enjoy the Valley, and I respect its people. You are all growing on me. I enjoy reading, though I don't do it for pleasure, and I like the feeling of my magic growing in the world and becoming stronger. My skeleton warriors make me happy, because they protect us and server our greater interests. I like ham and boar when I can get them, and I am fond of the Valley's blackberry wine."

"Surely you can eat as you like, as a baron."

"I haven't gotten used to that just yet."

The music changed, and the slow dance was over. The musicians played something quick and light, and the men twirled their women around. Ollivar had to substitute another quick dance for this one, because he figured if he tried to twirl Deena he'd end up breaking her bones or killing her. He could see that if he was going to stay in the Valley he'd need to take up dance lessons at some point. He could learn a few dances at this festival, but there were many steps to master, and some pointers would be for the better.

Ollivar's heart was still beating fast, not from the music but from closeness to Deena, and he said, "You quicken my heart, Deena. I've never met a girl like you before."

"Oh, the Valley is full of girls my age," she said airily, and she waved dismissively.

"Yes? But I'm interested in _you_ ," he said. "Please say you'll come to the long house for dinner one night soon."

"Very well, Baron Teedy, I'll speak with my mother, and we'll see if I have anything to wear for dinner with the baron."

"See? That wasn't so painful, was it?"

She smiled, and Ollivar's heart rent, and then they danced and danced the early evening away. At some point Deena excused herself, and Ollivar danced with other girls for a while, but it was Deena he was thinking of even as he went cheek-to-cheek with several other young women. Scotty danced past him at one point, with a young girl in tow, and Ollivar saw the happy look on his face and understood how important this festival was to the Valley people. It was where they met their lovers, and their future spouses, and nobbed with their friends and celebrated life. Festivals in the city had more people, but they were about the same things. It was only the scale that was different.

Deena came back, and they danced a little longer, then she excused herself for the evening.

"I'll send Scotty with an invitation for dinner," he said to her, and she nodded. Then she was gone, and Ollivar left the dancing pavilion and went back to the food tent and picked up more food. It was running low, and all the boar was gone, but he managed to get some roast turkey and stuffing and had to be satisfied with that and some more peach pie. There was more blackberry wine, thick and rich, and a dash of peach brandy, and some apricot wine that was utterly delicious. There were some grape wines as well, but Ollivar found these to be too tannic for his tastes. Maybe that's how the Valley people liked them?

Folquet came into the food tent, and Ollivar was introduced to Margo, Folquet's wife, and their oldest son, Tocks, who was in his thirties.

"How do you like the festival?" said a jolly Folquet, and Ollivar smiled.

"I've met someone interesting," he said. "And I'm having a grand time of it."

"Deena Flint, you mean?" he said sagely.

"You know her?"

"I know just about everyone of age in the Valley," said Folquet. "She's a very pretty girl, and bright as well. You could do much worse than her."

Ollivar was pleased at this endorsement but said, "I haven't seen you at the dances."

"We're just going now. We've been at the storytelling pavilion, and I've come here to the food tent too many times." He patted his belly.

"I think I'm going to retire," Ollivar said. "I've danced for two hours now, and I'm tired out."

"Aw, young man such as yourself can go all night," Folquet said. He finished the snack he'd gotten for himself, and he and Margo and their son took their leave and went off to dance.

Ollivar finished his food and returned to the long house. His mind was aflutter with thoughts of this pretty girl, and what he might say to her at dinner to win her over, and of her two brothers and two sisters and what her parents might be like. Then he retired for the day, and slept well.

Ollivar was nearly done with his defense force, and for the next week he manufactured bone lords and skeleton warriors, until he had five hundred and had to stop. There came a morning a little more than halfway through the month of Fourer when Ollivar didn't have to go out to the stone tombs anymore, or not to make more skeletons, anyway. He decided to continue going to the tombs to raid them for gold and gemstones, and he continued taking the white horse to check for soul screamers. But his trips were uneventful, and he picked up the treasure without trouble.

Ollivar sent Scotty with an invitation to Deena, who he wanted to see very badly but didn't want to press, so he put their dinner at the end of Fourer, in two weeks' time. She accepted graciously, and Ollivar anxiously awaited the thirty-fifth of the month. In the meantime he organized his patrols of skeleton warriors and put out more patrols into the barrow lands, hunting for necromancers. He was surprised that there hadn't been any found thus far this year; hadn't he been told that the knights who used to patrol the Valley found a couple of necromancers every year? Summer was swiftly passing, and there had been no wolves, no highwaymen and no necromancers come to the Valley. The year was heading to being halfway over, and life had been quiet. On reflection Ollivar felt that maybe that quiet was a good thing, that he didn't really want the citizens of the Valley terrorized, but he was eager to see his skeleton warriors in action. Taking on another necromancer's bone men would be a bit of excitement which he was sure he would win through without difficulty. Ah, well, he'd take the peace while it lasted and be ready for a change when it came.

In the fourth week of Fourer there was a surprise, one of his patrols ran into a party on horseback, coming into the Valley. The bone lord in charge of the patrol sent Ollivar a mental image of the patrol, and Ollivar was stunned to see at the head of this group none other than Lord Erol himself, and his son the heir. Lord Erol was talking with the bone lord, and Ollivar opened his mouth and gave the bone lord voice.

"Lord Erol, what a pleasure to see you and your heir in our little Valley," he said.

"I thought these bones might belong to you, Baron Teedy," said Lord Erol. "We were about to attack them, but I see on their foreheads the sign of Swan Domain, and I figured them for yours."

"These bone men are an abomination," said Lord Erol's heir, and Ollivar remembered the castellan of Swan Castle warning him that the heir would not take to necromancy.

"This necromancer healed the wounds no healer could touch," Lord Erol snapped. "You owe this man your life."

"He should be on the stake," said the heir.

"He should probably be a duke, but there were no open positions right now," said Lord Erol thoughtfully. "Anyway, Baron Teedy, I've brought my heir and ten knights and a dozen retainers to visit your Valley for a few days and see what you've wrought."

"Glad to have you, m'lord. Would you like an escort for the rest of the way to the Valley?"

"Not necessary. We have someone from Hopp with us who knows the way."

"Very well, we look forward to seeing you."

"We'll need pavilions for the knights and retainers. I can sleep in your long house. Not a problem, I assume."

"No, Lord Erol. There are two dozen rooms in the long house, you can have mine."

"Excellent. We'll be there in an hour, I'm told."

"I'll see to some food being prepared for your visit."

Ollivar broke the connection to the bone lord and sent Scotty to get a few boys to see to the horses and a dozen men to set up pavilions for Lord Erol's people. He himself went in to tell the cook to be expecting more guests, and she immediately asked Scotty to deputize her daughter to make a rabbit stew for the knights and retainers.

"It'll take two of us cooking all day to keep up with twenty-five people, and we may need a third before it's over, but you can rely on us, Baron Teedy," said the cook. "It'll be plain fare, but if they don't mind that they'll be well fed."

"I'm sure they'll be glad for whatever they can get, here at the end of the world," Ollivar said, and the cook cackled and then went to buy pheasant from a local hunter. Soon the men arrived with the pavilions and began setting them up, and Ollivar cleaned out his room and put fresh sheets on the bed for Lord Erol. His son would be staying in the room next to his, and some of the higher-ranking retainers could have the rest of the rooms. Scotty came back with one of the Valley's women in tow, a red-faced woman named Floret Tonta, who immediately began preparing rooms for the guests and relieved Ollivar of that responsibility.

"I'm afraid our accommodations are a little spare for such illustrious guests," Ollivar said unhappily, but Floret said,

"They must know we're a bit rustic, m'lord. You need a castle, is what you need. A proper palace to see to the needs of guests."

"First we need a proper wall," Ollivar said, and Floret nodded and took a load of sheets down the hall.

By the time Lord Erol and his retinue arrived, preparations for their stay were well under way. Scotty and Ollivar met the group as they rode up to the long house, and Lord Erol hopped off his horse and said,

"Absolutely famished, Baron Teedy. Not a terribly hard journey, but three days riding gives a man an appetite."

"The cook has been preparing pheasant, which I believe isn't quite ready yet, but there's fish stew, which is ready, and plenty of fruit and some fresh cheese," said Ollivar.

Lord Erol handed the reins of the horse to Scotty, who led the black stallion off to the stables and took the rest of Lord Erol's people to the pavilions where they would be quartered. The lord of the land pushed his way into the long house, his heir right behind him, Ollivar trailing in the rear. Inside they discovered the dinner table laden with fruits and nuts and berries and fish stew and set to eating.

"We expected better," said Lord Erol's heir.

"Advanced notice would have been good," said Ollivar.

The heir looked put-out, a look which Ollivar would always associate with this man. His face was perpetually scrunched up in a way that made him look peeved at the world.

"This is fine," said Lord Erol. "We wanted a surprise visit to see what you've been up to, Baron Teedy, in the thick of it as it were."

"Mostly I've been creating skeleton warriors, and bone lords," said Ollivar. "Their creation takes a good deal of time. I have to open the stone tombs to reveal the skeletons, and there are the rituals which have to be said."

"I thought creating bone men took only a wave of the hand," said the heir. "What do you mean when you say it takes a great deal of time to create these things?"

"My skeleton warriors are stronger than bone men," said Ollivar. "A good bit of magic goes into each one of them."

"But you stuck to the limits I gave you," said Lord Erol.

"Yes, m'lord, there are a few short of five hundred in all. I have created one bone lord for every ten skeleton warriors, as leaders of patrols, so there are four hundred fifty skeleton warriors and forty-five bone lords."

"Abomination," said the heir.

"And how are they working out, Baron Teedy?" said Lord Erol with considerable interest.

So for the next hour they discussed Ollivar's creations, their capabilities and their weaknesses, their patrol routes and the means by which Ollivar kept in communication with them.

"You must have a patron demon or devil," said the heir, whose name still hadn't come up in conversation. "I disagree with my father on allowing demons and devils to gain a foothold in Swan Domain."

"I am a white necromancer," said Ollivar. "Like Stony Brook, I have written my own spells, free of demonic magic. I have no patron at all, not demon or devil or angel or elemental."

"You might consider taking an elemental patron," said Lord Erol. "It's hard to make one's way without patronage." Ollivar noted that Lord Erol himself wore an emblem to Lord Tempest, one of the more powerful air elementals, and the heir wore something similar on a necklace.

"For now I'm going to try to make my way independently," said Ollivar. "I've been thinking of trying to bring in a healer into the Valley, as there are always accidents where there's farming, and I understand healers have angels for patrons. That will be enough religion for me."

"Healer would make a good wife for a baron," said the heir. Ollivar hadn't expected such a comment from this argumentative individual and was momentarily startled.

"You _are_ seventeen, after all," said Lord Erol with a smile.

"Aye, but I have my eye on someone else," he said.

"A Valley girl," said the heir dismissively.

"Indeed. A fine dancer, and a good conversationalist. And very pretty, to boot."

"The domain is awash in pretty girls," said the heir. "You have to think quality, Baron Teedy. Someone who can take you places. The daughter of a marquis, perhaps, or even a duke."

"We have little out here to interest such a high-born woman," said Ollivar. "She would be lonely for the company of her peers, I fear."

"A good wife goes where her husband needs her," said the heir decisively, and Ollivar wondered where he got his opinions from. Certainly he couldn't be all that experienced. Or was Ollivar just thinking of his own situation, and his own inexperience with women?

"Well," said Lord Erol. "Tomorrow I want a tour of your Valley, Baron Teedy. I know you were just visited by one of the Hopp barons, and he took the grand tour as well, but I wish to see for myself your patrols in action and hear from your citizens how they are getting along with the white necromancer. Have the troubadours come to your Valley yet, bothering you for your story?"

"No, not yet, Lord Erol. My mother gave me to understand that I am on the tip of every tongue in Calivandamar, but so far our Valley has not proven so attractive. I'm told the betting pools have placed good odds that I will go sour within a year's time."

"So they have," said the heir.

"But people know the lay of the white necromancer, they should know better," said Ollivar.

"The white necromancer was a long time ago," said the heir. "No one is sure you should be claiming his title."

"And now that you've seen my creations, what do _you_ say?" said Ollivar to the two of them.

"Making a few bone men doesn't entitle you to the position," said the heir. He eyed up Ollivar's chest as if expecting to see a demonic crest there, or the sign of some devil.

"People are excited about a white necromancer come again," said Lord Erol. "No one is sure what it means. When last we spoke we were nervous about demons and devils declaring war on Swan Domain. We have bound the most powerful of these to leave our domain alone, and so far demonkind does not seem inclined to declare war. I wonder if the demons are as puzzled as the citizens of my domain, Baron Teedy. We all want to know what you're up to."

"You saw the wall being worked on, am I correct?" said Ollivar.

"Yes. A good start, anyway. It'll take some years to put a wall the size you're talking about into place."

"That's one of my projects. I also want to build a small town here in the Valley, about five hundred people. I intend to recruit from Hopp and Calivandamar. But the wall comes first, defense must take the prize."

"I worry about your wall," said the heir, but for once Lord Erol cut him off.

"Your wall is ambitious, Baron Teedy," he said. "I almost didn't give my consent to the project, but your argument that you need it as proof against necromancers is compelling."

"You can hide behind it and make soul screamers and jangling men," barked the heir.

Ollivar decided not to grace this with comment. The heir was just repeating his own malice now, and Ollivar was not going to feed it.

"We're thinking a great deal about such matters," said Lord Erol. "There has been a Disturbance in Heron Domain. Have you heard?"

"Only vague rumors, nothing worth repeating," said Ollivar. The caravans from Hopp had brought back stories of soul screamers in Heron Domain, and a hard fight to root out a necromancer there.

The heir started to speak, and Lord Erol rode over him:

"A necromancer got dug in in the countryside outside Whirlwind City. He was raiding the country cemeteries, which don't have the protective magic of the big city cemeteries on them. He was able to raise a sizable army of bone men, jangling men, bone lords and even soul screamers. He killed more than a thousand people before they rode him down. They have not located the spell books he was using to make his creations, so the door is open to further necromancers rising in Heron Domain. We are thinking of soul screamers these days."

"We should start cremating our dead," said Ollivar, and the heir made a sound of disbelief.

"More blasphemy! The angels want us to inter our dead in the earth, not burn their remains! We have always buried our dead. It's the way things are done! To Hell with the necromancers, let them raise their bone men, and we will put them down like the dogs they are!" This little speech came bursting out of the heir, and Ollivar saw more and more in this young man a reactionary thinker rather than a visionary. He hoped the heir would grow into himself a lot more before assuming command of Swan Domain. Right now he was of no value to anyone, especially to Ollivar.

"There isn't enough wood in Swan Domain to cremate all the dead," said Lord Erol. "Burial is the only option."

Ollivar knew Swan Domain was heavily forested and had to wonder at this pronouncement. How much wood did cremation require, really?

"Soul screamers require demonic or devilish magic to create," said Ollivar. "The spells that bind them are wicked through and through. There is no way to cleanse such beings and make them serve the greater good."

"You say that with authority," said Lord Erol.

"I spent years trying to clean those creatures, to make them of use to me," said Ollivar. "A single soul screamer is worth a dozen knights. I dreamed of having such creations to serve me. But alas, they are beyond redemption."

"All necromancy is beyond redemption," said the heir.

"And the magic you used to treat my son, that was free of taint as well," said Lord Erol. It wasn't a question, and Ollivar realized the man had had a healer check his son for the taint of demonic or devilish magic. "I have spoken with my sorcerers about your magic, young Baron Teedy, and they agree that it takes a singular mind to rewrite a whole body of spells into a new form. They didn't say so, but they were impressed with your skills. They think you'll go to the dark, of course, but they're still impressed."

"I had the example of Stony Brook before me, guiding the way," said Ollivar. "It's amazing what you can do with such an inspiration."

"You're staking a big claim, pretending to the seat of the White Necromancer," said the heir.

"Now, Baron Teedy, tell us about this Valley of yours, and about your citizens," said Lord Erol, and the next two hours passed as Ollivar described his life in the Valley, and the lives of its citizens, and more about his plans for the place. Scotty came in and announced that the knights and retainers were quartered, and the rabbit stew had been delivered, and apparently many people were taking a swim in the river to rid themselves of their travel grime. Ollivar thanked Scotty and dismissed him for the evening, and the young man took off.

"Well, that's enough for one evening," said Lord Erol. "I'm going to turn in. Son, I suggest you do the same. I want to be up early tomorrow morning to have a look at this wall the baron is proposing to build, and to speak to people from the Valley."

Lord Erol stayed for three days, and they were long days full of interviews and sight-seeing. He took in the construction of the wall several times, commenting on the work of the skeleton workmen and pointing out ways in which the workmanship could be improved.

"Your skeletons work tirelessly, but do they learn from their experience and get better?" asked Lord Erol.

"They have limited ability to learn new things. Each generation of them that I create is better adapted than the previous generation," said Ollivar. "As I retire each generation of workmen I put them to work hauling stone or other unskilled labor and turn out a new generation of stone masons. The foundations of my wall are going to be a bit crude, but they're below ground and hopefully not as important as what will be seen above ground."

"Every part of a wall is important," said Lord Erol. "But you shouldn't need to worry about siege machines, out here. You should be worried about wolves and necromancers, and even a crude wall will hold those out."

"I am amazed how vulnerable this Valley is to attack," said Ollivar. "There should have been stronger defense here long before now."

"Are you saying my father has been negligent in his duties?" barked the heir.

"Sometimes, son, you are a damned fool," said Lord Erol, and the heir took a puckered look that Ollivar found singularly satisfying. "This Valley of yours is the farthest western end of my domain. Other than necromancers, who would attack it? Wolves can be handled by a few armed men, and most necromancers can be handled by a well-armed patrol of knights. You're the first one with the labor force to construct a wall. Too expensive for conventional labor."

"I've been told that I should think of constructing a castle in the Valley as well," Ollivar said. "That seems overly ambitious to me, but if the Valley continues to grow, a keep might be a good idea."

"That's above your station," snapped the heir.

"I suspect I'll have lots of company, once the fear wears off," said Ollivar. "The long house is proving to be barely adequate to my needs. An actual keep would be much better."

Lord Erol stroked his beard. "A castle out here wouldn't be a bad idea. The barons in Hopp have long houses, but these are lightly fortified. We've traditionally gotten along well with Egret Domain, but once in a while they become belligerent and attack us. They could come through the barrow lands and attack through Hopp, and it would be days before I could get up a defense. I'm surprised it hasn't been done before; I suppose they fear the barrow creatures. All right, then, Baron Teedy. You have my permission to build a sizeable castle here in your Valley. Make sure it has room for up to fifty knights as well as the usual servants and retainers. And siege equipment storage. If you build it, I will invest in it. There will be grumbling that it's above your station—" Lord Erol looked sideways at his heir, who smirked "—but other barons have castles, it's not unheard of. It depends on where the castle is located, and this is a good spot for one. A castle is a specialized piece of stonework. Your skeletons would need to be trained in its construction, or you would have to use the usual stone masons. Expensive, Baron Teedy, very expensive. I trust you're raiding the stone tombs for gold and jewels. You'll need to open a lot of tombs to finance a castle, and it'll take eight or ten years to build the thing. You could have your skeletons quarry and move the rock and the workmen put it in place, that might be a successful way to do it. But that's just me thinking aloud, handle it as you think best."

"This baron is just a boy," said the heir. "What business does he have building a castle? Better to replace him with an earl or a marquis if you want a castle here, father."

"A baron will do. You're just a boy, as well, son, but I listen to your council, do I not?"

" _I've_ been educated by the finest minds in the land. _I'm_ worth listening _to_ ," said the heir haughtily.

"I will begin construction of my town and a castle, then, m'lord," said Ollivar. He wondered what his citizens would say about all this construction and the flow of fresh people into the Valley. He really should sound them out before beginning the building. The Valley was growing slowly on its own, but Ollivar was proposing swift growth and powerful changes to the Valley's way of life. This might not be welcome; it was worth asking around to find out.

Three days came and went, and Lord Erol finished his interviews with the Valley's inhabitants and gathered up his knights and retainers.

"You seem to be doing a good job of running the place, especially considering how little experience you have in noble matters," said Lord Erol. "Write me every few months and let me know what is happening here, Baron Teedy. I take a keen interest in you and your situation."

"If it was up to me you'd be burned at the stake," said the heir. Lord Erol shot him a look, and he said nothing more, which suited Ollivar just fine.

Then Lord Erol and his people left the Valley, riding away in the very early morning in order to make Hopp by late afternoon. Ollivar and Scotty saw them off, then Ollivar went out to watch his skeleton workmen work on the wall. It was soothing, watching the workmen bring worked stone from the ridges into the valley and put it in place in the trenches. Four years to build this wall, that was a long time. Eight to ten years to build a medium-sized castle, maybe less if he used the skeleton workmen for some parts of the job. How long to build a small town, two years? Would anyone move to the Valley before the wall was complete? How could he sell the Valley to prospective citizens, given the lack of services and the proximity of the barrows? He knew what people in Calivandamar thought of Hopp, it was near the deadly barrows and was a frontier town. People in the big city thought that people living out this way were particularly brave, or foolhardy. How to attract good people to live here, without bringing the dregs of the city, looking for a free handout?

With Lord Erol gone Ollivar found himself with a great deal of time to spare. He had manufactured all the skeleton warriors he was allowed to, and he had enough skeleton workmen to build the wall, so there was no need to manufacture more skeletons for anything. Every few days he went into the barrow lands with a white horse in tow and opened another mound for its treasure, and his personal fortune grew larger. If he was really going to build a castle, he couldn't possibly put away enough money for the task. It would absorb everything he could put to it.

Ollivar still spent an hour or two each day listening to complaints from the Valley's citizens and rendering judgments in the matter of lawsuits that arose from time to time. Ollivar was aware that many of the Valley's older citizens still took their matters to Folquet, and Ollivar wondered whether he should raise a point of this or should leave things working as they were, which had been the way they'd been working for many years.

In the meantime, he reinstated his invitation to Deena for dinner at the long house, and eventually she arrived, on the evening of thirty-nine Fourer, as promised. She wore an aqua dress with lacy white ruffles on the hems and had on light makeup and looked enchanting.

"So glad you could come," said Ollivar as she entered the long house.

"My mother said it would be rude to deny your request, and I have to admit, I've never been in the long house before and was curious, m'lord," she said lightly.

"Ollivar will do," he said.

"Ollivar, then. You've had important guests, I was told. The lord of the land, and his son. What did they think of our little Valley?"

"They seemed impressed," Ollivar said. "Lord Erol likes the wall I'm building, and they both thought the people of the Valley handle themselves well."

"We know our place in the scheme of things," said Deena. "People here don't try to be something they're not, like they do in Hopp, I'm told."

Ollivar felt a pang of something then, fear of being separated from this girl, fear that the evening would go by so very fast and she'd be gone again, and he would not have shown his interest, he would have just let her go.

"Deena," he said. "You caught my eye from the first time I saw you, and I've only wanted more since then." Then his mouth rebelled and refused to say more, and he choked on whatever words came next.

"My, such a rush of words," she said. Fire rose in her cheeks, and she looked at him evenly. "What have I done to draw the attention of a baron?"

"Just be yourself," Ollivar said feebly. "I can ask no more than that."

"As I said, we people of Peach Orchard Valley don't put on airs," she said. She sat down at the table, and the cook brought in a plate of sliced pears and kiwi fruits. She took a slice of kiwi and sucked on it for a moment.

"I was speaking to my little brother about this dinner, and you know what he said to me? He said, 'Make sure you tell him the barrows are dangerous, he shouldn't go looking for barrow gold.' That's my little brother for you, always concerned for the well-being of others."

"He sounds like quite the little gentleman," said Ollivar. What was her little brother's name? She'd told him—ah, Timmorn, that was it. "This was Timmorn?"

"Yes," she said. "He's going through a time of doting on the elementals right now, trying to pick one for himself. He fancies Lord Rain, the air elemental, who is steady and well appreciated here in the Valley, but the fire elementals catch him with their warlike ways. You know little boys."

"I was never interested in picking a patron," Ollivar admitted. "I have always wanted to try living without patronage."

"Oh, you're not a believer?"

"I believe well enough, any fool can see the power of the spirit world. But I have never wanted to pledge myself to a spirit. Have you made such a pledge?"

"I am pledged to an angel, the guardian angel Zeruch. It seems like a good patron for me."

"Your father is pledged to an air elemental, if I remember rightly," said Ollivar.

"Yes, he is a farmer through and through, and air elementals are most important to farmers. And of course elementals of the earth. I'd have thought you have a demonic patron, as a necromancer. That has been a source of concern to me, in light of this dinner." She ate a slice of pear and then several more kiwi slices. Ollivar offered her blackberry wine, and she raised her glass, and he poured. She took a dainty sip.

"No, no demons for me," said Ollivar. "As I told Lord Erol and his son, I've rewritten my spells to be clean of demonic influence. I want nothing to do with Hell and its powers. My spells are purely magical in their effect, no patronage at all. There's a chance that I'll offend the powers of Hell by so doing, but I'm willing to take that risk. I will assume the mantle of the White Necromancer, completely, and make my way by so doing."

"Won't you be preyed upon by those with patronage?" Deena asked him.

"I have my magic to protect me."

"You are taking sizeable risks, Baron Teedy," she said. "You might take a patron, just to have someone on your side if your magic fails you."

"I have faith in my magic," said Ollivar. In fact he had written several spells to attack spirits, but they were untested, and he wasn't anxious to have to find out if they worked properly or not.

Ollivar took a slice of pear and sucked it down and then followed with kiwi fruit. "I got a letter from my mother, in the city. I am apparently very popular with the troubadours now. I expect an invasion of them out here in the Valley, as soon as they get over their fear of my magic."

"Troubadours are a nosy lot," Deena snickered. "Have you met Alain?"

"Yes, I know Alain. Is he nosy?"

"Always has an interest in other people's business. I suppose he's looking for subjects for songs, but I find it a disagreeable habit," she said. "He's quite clever with words, though. He's made up half a dozen songs about the Valley and its people, and everyone hires him for their weddings and funerals and important events. He's a terror with the girls, though, always demanding sexual favors. That's part of being a troubadour, too, I think."

"He told me he intends to do some travelling in the near future, and expand his repertoire," said Ollivar.

"He's been saying that for years. I think he's a Valley man at heart, he won't go farther than Hopp. I suppose there are a dozen troubadours there for him to chum with."

"Calivandamar has a lot of troubadours," said Ollivar. "That would be the place to go if he truly wants to learn his art."

"You should mention that to him," Deena said. "Maybe a kick in the seat of the pants would get him going."

"I was impressed with the summer festival," said Ollivar. "Everyone seemed to have a good time, and the food was superb. The storytelling was good as well."

"You'd think we were someplace important, with the way the storytellers talk us up," Deena laughed. "But it's our history, and we're proud of it. Did you hear the story of Gorges Shattock and his brothers? Killed by the wolves fifteen years ago?"

"I heard it. The wolf packs must be quite large."

"Sometimes there are fifty wolves, several large packs travelling together. In the bad winters they come down from the mountains, seeking food. Valley people will do for that need."

"Folquet told me about this. I have skeleton warriors patrolling the pass into the mountains now, so they can't get past."

"I hope you're right, Ollivar. Being eaten by wolves is a hard fate."

This comment seemed to bring silence on its heels, and the two of them nibbled fruit slices and eyed each other up.

The cook had been working for hours on the meal, roast quails and mixed vegetables and baked potatoes with bacon on top, and now she brought in their plates of food and set them on the table. Ollivar poured more blackberry wine for himself and Deena, and the two of them ate.

"Have you always danced at the summer festival?" Ollivar asked her.

"Only the past few years. People encourage children to join the dances around thirteen or fourteen years old, and some of us really enjoy them. You're a good dancer, Ollivar."

"My twirling needs practice," said Ollivar. "Mayhaps I'll take lessons from Folquet or someone else who would know how."

"Folquet would be a good choice," she said. "He's the master of the Valley, after all."

"I've not heard him called that, before."

"Oh, yes, many people call him by that title. He was the unofficial baron before you came."

"He seems to have adjusted to my presence without resentments."

"He's not noble birth. He's always expected a real baron to come to the Valley, just not a necromancer."

"So what are people saying about me, when I'm not there, Deena? I know what they say to my face, what they must say to stay in graces, but what do they really think?"

Deena sipped her wine and looked him right in the eye. "They think you'll go bad within a year, and all these skeletons you've created will be attacking us and attacking Hopp. Many people are fatalistic. They're practically given up the Valley for lost." She sawed off a slice of quail and ate it, and followed this with a mouthful of the baked potato.

"I know Alain is singing the lay of the White Necromancer whenever he gets the opportunity. I'm disheartened that that hasn't convinced people of my good intentions."

"In truth, Folquet has told everyone how you handled the bandits when you came to the Valley. That has done more to convince people of your nobility than any old song."

"I had hoped the song was more potent than that," said Ollivar. He scooped up the mixed vegetables and ate them, then he took a swallow of wine.

"People like it well enough, but it's another matter entirely to have a necromancer in your midst, and especially one who's a baron. At the bottom of it, it comes down to Lord Erol's judgment, and Lord Erol is distant from the Valley and not well known to us."

"His visit here must have impressed people."

"Startled them, more like. It's reassuring that the lord of the land is taking an interest in your doings, but he is three days distant, and if you turn your skeletons on the Valley, we will all be dead before help arrives. I'm sorry to talk this way, but it's what people are saying."

"I had hoped that my skeleton warriors would make people feel protected, not threatened. I suppose that after three thousand years of necromantic attacks, a white necromancer is too much to be believed." This disheartened Ollivar greatly. That song had been his inspiration as he came into his own powers; he had truly hoped it would serve as an inspiration to others as well. He could see now that Alain's optimistic appraisal of him was a minority view in the Valley. He tried to adjudicate the disputes of the Valley people fairly and without bias, and he hired Valley people and spread his money around, and he made his skeleton warriors to protect the people of the Valley. And somehow it wasn't enough, people feared him because of his powers, they feared the patronage of demons and devils. Maybe he should take a patron after all, an angel or at least an elemental. But what angel would have a necromancer? Even the elementals would be skittish. Was Ollivar going to end up on the stake, was it inevitable that this be his end?

Ollivar and Deena were seated across from each other at the table, a position which now annoyed him, because he wanted to kiss her, and she was too far away.

"I can't think of anything you could do to make yourself more trustworthy to the Valley people," said Deena. "You were at the festival, everyone saw you, and many people had the chance to speak with you. It's your magic they fear, not you, Ollivar. It's the necromancy, and the foul history that is behind it."

Ollivar wondered now if he should have ignored the books of necromancy in the library of Lord Otis and taken up with books of elemental magic instead. He could have been a hedge wizard, or an elemental wizard, and this suspicion would not fall on him as it did now. But he had the song of the white necromancer in his heart—if Stony Brook could do it, then so could Ollivar Teedy. And this time it would turn out to be a happy song, it wouldn't go sour as it had for Stony Brook. That supposition had kept Ollivar going for years, had kept him studying the spells and testing the magic and rewriting the ancient rituals to be free of demonic magic. He had assumed that if he took the mantle of the white necromancer, the world would open itself to him, and all good things would come his way. He had been in the Valley for three months now, and its people were still fearful and suspicious of him. This preyed on his mood, and it was a while before he could think of anything to say.

"I had hoped that taking the role of a white necromancer would stop most of the fear," he said at last.

Deena shook her head. "I think that having a necromancer as a baron makes people worry more than they would if you were a criminal. They'd know what to do if you were a criminal. As it is now they want to take up arms against you but can't, so instead they worry, and fret. Having Baron Harding and Lord Erol turn up in the Valley to see to our welfare is just not reassuring, given all the skeletons running around. It would be too easy for you to kill us all."

Ollivar had had enough of this line of conversation, and he got up from his chair and went around the table and crouched next to Deena. His lips almost puckered themselves, and he bent near her to kiss her. She stared at him, her eyes big, and then at the last moment turned to present her cheek, which Ollivar kissed.

"My, you're very forward, Baron Teedy," she said, amused.

"Deena, you are a wildflower whose presence lights up the Valley for me," Ollivar said. "I want you for myself. This evening isn't even over, and I miss you already. Tell me you look at me with favor. My heart is quaking." He didn't know where these words came from. They weren't rehearsed, they were just the way he felt. Was he going to drive her away, driveling on like this?

She sliced off a piece of roast quail and held it up on her fork for a moment. "I like you, Ollivar, but I don't know you that well. It'll take more than a dinner to bring me to your heart."

"What do you want? Gold? Jewels? I have these." This felt like the wrong way to go, but Ollivar was floundering now, unsure what to offer her.

She laughed. "I'm not for a rich girl," she said. "This is a good dinner. Let's do a walk next time, up to my father's land and around the Valley. Let's watch your skeletons build the wall. How about a picnic lunch, in the middle of the day? Would you like that? I'll prepare it, next time."

"I'd like that very much," he said.

"My mother only let me come her alone because the cook would be here," Deena said. The tone of amusement was back in her voice, and Ollivar thought trying to kiss her had been a good idea. He considered trying it again, but it seemed like an idea whose time had passed. He stood up and reluctantly went back to his place at the table and sat down.

"Ah, but the cook is old, and shouldn't be listening anyway." He paused to see if the cook was going to say anything to this, but there was no sound from the kitchen.

"I told my mother I can handle myself, thank you very much, and don't need a cook to watch over me. We quarreled, we did."

"Girls always quarrel with their mothers over men, I'm sure of it," said Ollivar.

"She calls you, ' _that_ baron.' As though we know several."

"What did you father say to your coming here tonight?"

"He said not to be foolish and to keep my wits about me and not to let you bed me." She laughed again, an agreeable sound which Ollivar really liked, and he smiled.

"At our first meeting? He thinks me even more forward than you do."

"I've heard there are many men who pretend to have manners, and all that goes by the wayside when they're alone with a woman."

"I've been friends with the wrong men, then," he said.

"How many lovers have you had, Ollivar? A great many?"

This put Ollivar in a quandary. If he admitted he'd had no lovers, he'd look like a bumpkin at love. If he lied he'd have to make up details of his lovers, and would he be able to remember all those details? "You're the first woman who has caught my eye," he said. "I've had no lovers."

"You must be eager to learn."

"I'm eager to find a good match," he said. "I've been lonely for a long time, living in the world of my books, and I am hungry for more life. I've been busy these past three months making my skeleton warriors, and the bone lords, but now I want to turn my attention to my personal happiness."

Deena finished her dinner and pushed away the plate. "I'm flattered I've caught your eye, Ollivar," she said. "You're a handsome man, yourself. But at heart I'm a simple Valley girl. I hope I don't come to bore you in short order."

"You're not going to bore me, Deena," he said.

Ollivar finished his own dinner and shoved the plate toward the center of the table. The cook heard the clinking of the crockery and came out and took away the plates. In a minute she returned with peach cobbler, one slice for each of them. Ollivar took a bite of his, and it was as delicious as everything else the cook made.

There were other things said in passing, but the dinner was over, and there was not the spark of more conversation in the air. They ate the cobbler in near silence, and then Deena excused herself, and Ollivar sent an escort of two bone lords to accompany her back to her parents' house. After she was gone he reflected over the dinner and what had been said, and whether or not it was good, and decided he was right in kissing her. That was the one thing he had done well the entire evening. Should dinner have ended in silence? He'd heard of companionable silences before but was unable to decide if what he and Deena had shared had been "companionable." It just seemed like a good time to stop, that was all.

There was a faint clinking of crockery from the kitchen, as the cook cleaned up the remains of the dinner and put the rest in the air elemental's ice box. Ollivar felt an urge to go and talk with the cook about Deena, but he felt this set a bad precedent in talking with the servants about his personal affairs, which felt wrong. If his mother had been there he would have spoken with her about Deena, but his mother was a hundred kilometers away. He felt good about the dinner but unsure he'd really gotten anywhere. Maybe he _should_ have tried to bed her, just to see if she would let him. It was a nice conversation, but did it sparkle? Was it romantic? Did it set his heart to beating faster?

Ollivar went into the kitchen and told the cook good night, and then he went to his room and bedded down for the evening. He didn't get to sleep for a long while. He heard the conversation with Deena again and again, enjoying the highlights and thinking he should have said more, done more. She must think him dull. What did she say, he might get bored with her? That surely must be a danger with her as well, getting bored with him. For five and a half years Ollivar's life had spun around necromancy. For the first time in all those years he was at a still point. He had his fighting force of skeletons created, and he was raiding the stone tombs in a slow and steady way that allowed him to minimize the risks they represented. He had time for other things, such as finding love.

Everything he knew of love was from songs, and he knew those were badly skewed. He had held his own with Deena, they had both done well, but she was even younger than he was, and from the narrow confines of Valley living. She knew her family, and friends, and a few dozen Valley citizens, and he knew his books and the draw of great magic. Maybe their lack of experience would ultimately be good, they could learn about the world through each other. Should he be looking to the daughter of the barons of Hopp for a wife? Was that what he was looking for, a wife? It was. It's what he was thinking of, he had to admit to himself.

He couldn't imagine what the daughters of barons had that Deena did not. Education? A warm heart was better. Didn't the daughters of the nobility learn how to play musical instruments, or to do spectacular needlepoint, or knitting? He wondered if Deena was musical, and if she was, what instrument she would play. What did she bring with her?

He liked her, for one thing. Her talk of her little brother and her other brothers and sisters made her into a flesh and blood person, and she was very pretty as well. He kissed her by way of saying that he liked her, that he wanted her, that he wanted more of her. He liked the little gestures she made when she was talking, and he liked the way she sipped her wine so daintily. She held herself well in his presence, she wasn't flustered or tongue-tied, and she seemed open to what he was saying. She listened to him, and she seemed to care about what he was telling her.

What did a wife need, beyond these capacities? Sex didn't interest Ollivar greatly. He felt he understood it all well enough from what his friends had told him. It sounded like fun, if a bit confusing, and he was confident he'd figure it out as he went. It was like necromancy in that regard, you'd learn it on the way. And Deena was young enough to learn new things handily. She would have to learn how to be a lady, and that would come hard, since there were no ladies in the Valley to teach her how. She had a natural, what was the word, _elegance_ , that sat well with Ollivar, but what would others think?

This was important, he was pretty sure, what others would think of her. People had to accept her as a lady. Would they do that for a daughter of the Valley? Would their familiarity with her breed contempt? And she was young. Should he be looking for someone even older than himself, a high-born lady who understood what it was to be of noble birth? Who could teach Ollivar the ways of nobility? As it was he was learning in dribs and drabs from Scotty, and Folquet, and figuring out some of it for himself, but he had no role model besides Stony Brook in the lay of the White Necromancer.

Lord Erol had said nothing of his search for love, and he had not thought to disburden himself to the lord of the land. He felt it was his own business who he took up with, and up to him who he took to wife. It was not a matter for Lord Erol or the barons of Hopp to concern themselves with. He had a suspicion that the nobility concerned themselves a great deal with who married who and whose child was married to which lord, and who took a commoner to wife (or husband). His instinct was to keep his head in his magic, but he could not keep making skeletons forever, Lord Erol had forbidden it. It would be necessary to learn the finer points of being a baron, and the sooner the better.

At last Ollivar felt weariness creep in around the edges of his thoughts, and he nestled in the center of his bed and let it take him. The last thing he thought of before he fell asleep was Deena's big eyes as he leaned in to kiss her, and how she had turned to present her cheek to him instead. This made him smile, and then he was gone into sweet slumber for the night.

As Fourer gave way to Fiver Ollivar quickly fell into a routine. Every four or five days he would take a white horse and a dozen bone lords out into the stone tombs, where he would open another tomb. There were thousands of tombs near the Valley mouth, and hundreds of thousands more ranging away to the north and the south, so he didn't worry about running out of tombs to raid. He brought half a dozen skeleton workmen with shovels to open the tomb, and then he crawled inside and got out the gold and jewels. The tombs continued to hold forty skeletons each, and he wondered if the ancestors had left them open while they were being filled or if they reopened them from time to time to add new bodies. For that matter, were the ancestors laid to rest as corpses, or were they defleshed somewhere and placed into the tombs as skeletons? He wished he had a spell to allow him to know these things. There were necromantic spells for speaking to the dead, but these were steeped in evil magic, and Ollivar was loathe to use them. For now his questions would have to go unanswered.

During the rest of his days Ollivar listened to the complaints of the Valley people, but there was a new twist, now that Lord Erol had come to the Valley and given his blessing to Ollivar's barony. Some of the citizens of the Valley had taken to wanting Ollivar to officiate over their weddings and baptisms, as the presiding baron of the Valley.

"It seals our love in the embrace of the authorities," as one young woman put it to Ollivar. "We'd really like it if you were to give us our wedding vows, Baron Teedy. Even if you are a necromancer, you're still our baron."

So Ollivar sent away for a book of wedding vows from Hopp, and within a week's time he had the book in his hands. There were a number of weddings going on in the Valley, summer weddings under the high sun, full of peach brandy and high hopes. Ollivar was pleased to see that the Valley people tended to marry young, as this gave him hope that Deena would continue to receive his attentions favorably. By the time Fiver was three weeks along Ollivar had performed three weddings and had had a good time at all of them. It was exhilarating to see his citizens finding their way in life, and it made his heart glad to see the happiness on the faces of the couples. Folquet performed a couple weddings during this time as well, for older citizens who wanted an older official performing the ceremony. Ollivar didn't mind. Folquet had performed ably as the Valley's unofficial baron for years, and as far as Ollivar was concerned he could continue to serve. He took the wedding duties as a sign that his people were taking to trusting him a little more, and was pleased for it.

During the fourth week of Fiver Ollivar took the white horse out to the stone tombs and dragged his bone lords out there with him, and half a dozen skeleton workmen with shovels. He led the horse up on top of a tomb and was startled when the horse began to prance back and forth and pawed the air. It didn't seem upset or frightened, just excited, and Ollivar wondered what lay within the tomb. The workmen had said that the horse would paw the ground if a soul screamer was within the tomb, but this seemed different from that. Ollivar calmed the horse and led it off the tomb, than back onto it, and again the horse pranced back and forth and pawed the air.

Now Ollivar led the horse well away from the tomb and stayed with it, two hundred meters away. The skeleton workmen dug their shovels into the mound and scooped away dirt, and they slowly uncovered the tomb. There were no shrieks from the crypt, and no shadows came out into the hot light of the summer's day. Ollivar sent a bone lord crawling into the tomb and looked through its eyes at the contents of the place. Within he found something odd that immediately got his attention: there was only one skeleton in the tomb. It was heaped with grave goods, pottery and rotted chain mail and chunks of rotted wood—from statues?

There was a grand heap of gold coins, and a gold mask over the skeleton's face, and dozens of golden fobs, medallions, bracelets, necklaces, a diadem, drinking goblets and bowls, brooch clips and scores more items made of gold. Ollivar wondered at this. There was a shop in Calivandamar that sold items from the stone tombs for much more than the value of the gold. He had gone into this shop a few times, just to see what it was about. The proprietor told him that wealthy men sometimes liked to own items from the stone tombs, as curiosities, and they'd pay well for them. So Ollivar would try to sell the contents of this tomb through this dealer in ancient goods and see if he could get great value for them.

But still, all this gold didn't explain the behavior of the horse. It pawed the air and pranced, as though there was a soul screamer in the tomb. But the tomb was empty of the walking dead. It wasn't the gold the horse was sensing, it would have pawed for every tomb Ollivar had opened thus far if it was the gold. So what was the horse excited about?

Ollivar pulled the bone lord out of the tomb and crawled into it himself and looked around. The light was terribly dim, and it took his eyes a few minutes to adjust. This ancestor had been buried in his chain mail, which was now a rotted, rusted mass of metal fragments. He wore a helm that was also rusted through, and had once wore leather boots which had dried into steel-hard shrunken wraps on his feet. His face was covered by a gold mask, thick and heavy and doubtless worth a small fortune; this was shaped into a bold man's features. Ollivar could see in the mass of rusted chainmail glints of gold; the chainmail had once had gold chasing for decoration. It was going to take hours to get all this gold out of this tomb and back to the long house.

Then Ollivar noticed something that he hadn't seen before. It was a long sword's scabbard, dried-up leather stretching down the man's right leg, hidden by his chainmail. Ollivar wondered if the sword was still inside and picked up the scabbard; it was far too heavy to be empty. The hilt of the sword stuck out of the end of the scabbard, and he gripped this and pulled at the blade. To his surprise, the sword groaned a bit in its scabbard and then broke free of the tortured leather and slid out into the light. The blade was flawless. It was steel, smooth and dangerously sharp in spite of all its time in the earth. The hilt looked to be chased with brass and glowed faintly in the miserable light inside the stone tomb, and the pommel was made of black steel. The blade was three feet long and was gleaming steel. There were runes etched into the blade, and more runes in the hilt. Ollivar had learned some runes during his years of reading necromantic magic, and he recognized the symbols for _lightning_ and _storm._ The rest were unclear to him. The sword was free of rust, there wasn't so much as a speck of it anywhere on the blade or the hilt or the pommel.

Ollivar slid the sword back into its ancient scabbard and crawled out of the stone tomb with it. This was a magic sword, there could be no doubt about it. To lay in the tomb all these centuries and gather not a single touch of rust was beyond belief for a normal blade, and this one was wound about with mystic symbols as well. A sword that had something to do with lightning storms; was it an elemental blade, then? Once outside Ollivar trotted up on top of the tomb and pulled the sword free of its scabbard once more. Was there a command word, or would grasping the sword be sufficient? He raised the sword over his head with one hand and pointed at a small tree with the other hand. From the clear sky came a bolt of yellow-white lightning, and the small tree exploded into fragments. Fiery elation filled him. Here was a weapon of war suited to a baron! He'd need training, of course, but this was much better than the mace he'd been carrying around up until now.

He supposed he should offer the blade to Lord Erol, but he was certain that that redoubtable man already had a weapon of finest enchantment, and so would his idiot heir. No, he would keep this for himself, the new baron's new sword. He might mention it in his next letter to Lord Erol, or he might not. Maybe he'd wait until Lord Erol came to visit again before bringing it up. No need to excite anyone's greed, was there? Even Lord Erol would feel a certain avarice for a magical blade. Call it a "special tax" or some such, and take it away and give it to a favored knight, something like that. No. Ollivar was holding on to what was his. He took the risks of the jangling men and the bone lords and the soul screamers, he'd keep the rewards of his risks.

Ollivar took out the sack he'd brought along for the tomb's treasures and crawled back into the tomb. He had a long day ahead of him, plundering and cataloguing the tomb's wealth. The gold mask from the ancestor should be worth a substantial fortune, it was of the finest workmanship and the highest quality. There had to be a hundred or more items made of gold in the tomb, this tomb was going to set him up. He wondered how many other tombs like this one lay all around him. This was a lord's crypt, that much was clear, but were there tombs even more richly arrayed than this one? Maybe this was a sub-lord's tomb, and the real lord's tomb was as yet undiscovered. Now he had a way of finding such places, all he had to do was bring the white horse atop the mounds and wait for it to prance. It was the magic sword the horse had been responding to, had to have been. The horse could sense the magic in the blade, even through the stone and the earth. Now to gather up all this gold, and the day would be done.

After Ollivar placed most of the gold in the long house he walked up the river for a mile or two. Farms sprawled on the northern side of the water, and farmers were out inspecting and weeding their fields. It was late summer, and blackberry season was getting going, and children were out with buckets and baskets, gathering the fruit of the vines. In a couple of weeks the whole Valley would be turned out to pick blackberries, and the berries would be pressed for wine. But now, at the start of the season, it was just the children who were out gathering. Some of the youngsters waved at Ollivar, who waved back at them and continued his westward journey. Eventually, about three miles upriver he came to a wide place with high banks, and there he stopped.

This was the place for his town, which he intended to name Bonehaven or Bonehaven Town. The high banks would ensure the town wouldn't flood, and the width of the river would allow for boats and rafts and other watercraft. It was a pity the Peach Orchard River only flowed out as far as the Bright River and that there wasn't a water route all the way to Hopp. Maybe a canal could be dug from the Bright River into Hopp? It would be a sixteen kilometer project, but it could be dug by skeleton laborer, working day and night. How hard could it be to dig a canal? If you made it wide enough you could get all sorts of boats on it, trading produce between the Valley and Hopp. He wondered if that would really be better than horse caravan and decided it probably wouldn't. Just wishful thinking writ large.

For the next few hours Ollivar paced around the south side of the river, measuring off streets and warehouses and public buildings. He'd need an architect to take an interest in this, and he'd need to hire master craftsmen to build the buildings. Skeletons laborers wouldn't be able to handle the tricky work of making homes and shops and public houses. There was plenty of timber in the Valley, though building an entire town would take a lot of wood. It was already late summer, and it was too late to start building for this year, but he could have plans drawn up and start hiring the labor force that would be needed to construct the buildings, next year. He considered having his skeleton workmen start cutting the timber and drying it for the next year, but this seemed excessive, and after a while he walked back down the river feeling frustrated and pent-up. It was easy to make plans, hard to finance them, harder still to make the appropriate arrangements. Everything had to be scheduled well in advance. He'd get the workmen from Hopp if possible, Calivandamar if necessary. There would have to be living arrangements made for the workmen, they'd have to be fed, entertainment would have to be arranged. Details, details...

Ollivar stopped by Folquet's homestead and brought the mask out of his backpack, and the two men talked about Ollivar's find while Folquet's wife poured them some peach brandy.

"I've heard of single burials before, you're not the first to find one, but it's been decades since anyone's come across any, far as I know," said Folquet. "Those were prominent men among the ancestors, I guess they were equal to our lords."

"I guessed as much," said Ollivar. He wiped his fingers across the fine features of the mask. "There's a shop in Calivandamar that sells artifacts from the stone tombs, I'd like you to try selling these finds there. I can direct you to the place."

"Very well. Calivandamar is full of wealthy merchants and minor nobles who crave this sort of thing, they'll be excited that new items have come from the stone tombs. Usually in the spring we get treasure hunters out from the big city to try their luck in the mounds, though Lord Erol discourages it through high taxes. So many of the treasure hunters end up killed by the walking dead that he's grown sour on the whole prospect. A find like yours will attract attention, Baron Teedy. Be ready for visitors, and not all will be savory."

"I've been prepared for visitors since my mother told me that my name was making the rounds in the city," said Ollivar. "Really, I thought the troubadours would be here in force by now. I suppose fear of necromancy keeps them in line, and more's to be thankful for."

Folquet chuckled. "We've had worse guests than nosy troubadours looking to write a song. Though that would be something new to the Valley. Travelers come sometimes just to see the stone tombs without digging about in them, and we take them in and answer their questions if they're friendly enough. We've had some famous men, and a few women, here in the Valley in the past, taking in the lay of the land. A wizard came out here, oh, this had to be twenty-five years ago now. Dug up a mound and sketched the contents for a book he was writing on the stone tombs. Now that fellow had questions! He hired me to take him around and help him dig, this was back when I was around twenty-five or so and more adventuresome than I am these days. We actually uncovered three tombs, and he kept the gold and jewels from the interiors, though I don't think it was riches he was after. A man of learning, he was, who had a million questions about the ancestors and the Valley and what people had found in the tombs, and the ruined cities by the lake. Very sociable fellow, but he was old back then and I suppose is dead by now. He wanted to go to the ruined cities, but no one would go with him, and we impressed on him how foolhardy it would be to go alone. I think he was sorely disappointed in our lack of adventuring spirit, but some years there are young people ready to go out and look around, and some years there aren't."

"Folquet, I'm serious about building a small town here in the Valley. Bonehaven, I want to call it, or Bonehaven Town. I've found a good place upriver a ways to locate it. I spent the last few hours pacing out the dimensions of the town. About five hundred people, all told. Bring the Valley up to around a thousand people."

"That would definitely raise the tax base," said Folquet.

"To hell with the tax base. I want Peach Orchard Valley to _become_ something. We can become important, here. I need to replace the long house with a castle, and the Valley needs a town. People will come here to see the skeleton warriors and the skeleton workmen and the bone lords I've created. Let this place become a center for necromancy, _white_ necromancy. Let people marvel that the old way isn't the only way to do things. Maybe I can make a school here, a school for necromancy. Teach my techniques to all with aptitude. The land would prosper with skeleton warriors to supplement the knights. Hawk Domain would get a face full of something to think about, then!"

Folquet chuckled. "Your vision outstrips your ability to make it happen, Baron," he said. "You've got a hundred skeleton workmen building a wall right now, isn't that enough to start with? If you build a town you'll have to wait until next spring to start. A castle, the same. I daresay you're pulling a bit of gold out of the tombs, but enough to pay for a castle? That's expensive, lad; that's specialized labor, right there. I've no doubt this rich tomb you've found will bring you in some money, but a castle would be a fierce expenditure. And now you're talking about a school of necromancy? Hadn't you better wait and see if it pays off for you to use the magic in the first place? You might be better served giving it up and hanging onto the title of baron, instead. Dissolve your creations into dirt and hire knights, like any other baron. Use your skills to get ahead, then let them go."

"I've come all this way, Folquet; I'm not giving up my magic easily. I know the necromancy makes some of the Valley people uncomfortable, but they'll get used to it, I'm sure of it."

"Don't be _too_ terribly sure of that, Baron Teedy. The history is long, and people are suspicious. We've never lost a single person in Peach Orchard Valley to necromancy, but some of the knights assigned to guard the Valley were killed by necromancers. There have been Great Disturbances out this way, and all of Hopp was nearly wiped out by necromancy. People here in the Valley are not going to suddenly take up with a necromancer because he styles himself after Stony Brook of the songs. It will take you years to win these people over. And they'll separate out Baron Teedy, the noble, from Baron Teedy, necromancer. You can rule wisely and well over this Valley, and they'll still suspect you of evil doings."

"Deena's told me people will not be easily won over."

"Deena's a very young woman, Ollivar, she doesn't know the half of it. Half the older people in the Valley are for banding together and running you off before your creations get wind of what's going on, and the other half are for taking up a complaint to Lord Erol and getting _him_ to run you off. My own attitude is to judge a man by his deeds, and so far you've done well by Peach Orchard Valley. This new town you're proposing to build is going to upset people, they'll like having the specialty services of a town nearby but won't like all the strangers or the attitude they'll bring toward farming folk. And a town will bring criminals, which will be new to the Valley. We're not saints here, but people don't steal from each other, and with a town there'll be thievery, and probably murder, too. And you'll have many people wanting to go raid the stone tombs. That's going to be a problem, restless young people hearing stories and wanting to go out raiding. You need to talk with the people of the Valley about this town idea of yours, and hear what they're saying back to you."

"Very well, I'll host a meeting of the Valley, at the harvest festival. See what people think of a town here in the Valley. I'd be recruiting from Hopp, and possibly Calivandamar, though I'd prefer to stick to Hopp at first. There might be complaints from the barons in Hopp, about stealing their citizens away. It's all confusing right now, and not possible to see the future. I'm looking for people with a little pluck, who wouldn't be afraid to live at the end of the road. I worry that people from Calivandamar would bring big city ways of doing things, which wouldn't be respectful of the Valley people. Perhaps I should recruit from some of the small towns around Calivandamar, instead of from the capital?"

"That would be a better idea as far as I'm concerned. Small town people to build a small town. I can put your idea past some of the Valley's older citizens, see what they think of the thought. I'd expect resistance, if I were you. People will fight against change just because it's change. You want to think about why a town would be a good idea and what it would offer the Valley folk that they'll want. Also, a town in the Valley would make life harder for the caravan masters who make runs to Hopp right now. There'll still be specialty items that Hopp provides that your little hamlet wouldn't offer, but it would cut deep into their business. Think about their jobs and how they can make money from your new town."

Ollivar promised to give these matters his thought, then they turned their attention to Ollivar's new blade. Ollivar showed Folquet how the blade was shiny and new as a brand-new sword, and the older man admired the craftsmanship and touched the runes that were etched into the length of the blade.

"There's been talk of other magic weapons having been found in the stone tombs, but not in many years," Folquet said. "Have you experimented with it? Does it have power?"

"It calls lightning to wherever you want it to strike," said Ollivar. "I see that as handy if a necromancer comes to the Valley."

"Indeed it would be! Going to offer it to Lord Erol? Might be a good idea."

"I was thinking I'd hang onto it for a personal weapon and get a sword master out here to train me in its use," said Ollivar.

"Erol seems reasonable enough, but lords are jealous creatures," said Folquet. "I'd at least tell him you found the sword, see what he says. If he hears about it from other sources he may seize it. Get his word that it's yours, and you can fight off the earls and marquis who will come for it, as well."

Ollivar sighed. "In truth I was going to hang onto it as my own little secret," he said. "But maybe you're correct, and this is the better way. I hadn't thought of the other nobles. This having people over you is a blasted nuisance."

Folquet chuckled. "It's a game of chess, and you have to appeal to the lord as often as you dare, and undercut the other pieces. I have dealings with three barons on a regular basis, you're the fourth, and they're always eager of news of one another's affairs. Very jealous creatures, the nobility. You'd think that with rank comes expansiveness and freedom from petty behaviors, but the opposite is true. Give a man a little power and he covets more and constantly complains about those who are his equals. You cannot underestimate your peers, Ollivar, for pettiness and crude behavior."

"I'll remember that," said Ollivar. "In the meantime, I think I'll call this blade Skyripper. That seems like a good name for it."

"Very appropriate," said Folquet.

Then Folquet made his excuses, and Ollivar returned to his long house and dinner, which was roast lamb stew with many herbs mixed in, and plenty of vegetables. Scotty was building the fire as Ollivar returned, and the two of them talked about the Valley people and blackberry season as the fire caught and turned into a merry little affair.

"This is a busy time in the Valley, which is why there are no weddings right now and no lawsuits," said Scotty. "Everyone is preparing for the blackberry harvest and the making of the blackberry wine. Many people in the Valley pay their taxes entirely in blackberry wine and peach brandy, there are quite a few families who are very knowledgeable in making these liquors. Many other families make these drinks and sell them in Hopp, where we have a reputation as being excellent vintners. Some years we have a celebration of the wine making, where people get together and try out the year's vintages, but no one has said anything about doing that this year. If we don't have the celebration, we'll do it for the harvest festival, and it'll make a merrier time of it. It's always amusing watching the drunks carry on during the festival."

Ollivar smiled. "I look forward to a break in the lawsuits. For such a small place, the Valley citizens have a zest for suing each other."

"There are about a dozen miscreants," said Scotty. "They are the ones who bring their cases before the authorities, constantly. Everyone else gets along like honest men. Most people prefer to settle their differences man to man, which if you'll pardon my saying so is the best way for people to behave. I'm surprised no one has sued you over the bone men you're creating. They've been well-behaved so far, haven't killed or maimed anyone."

"That's because they're well made," said Ollivar. "They're reasonably smart. Not as smart as a knight, but they'll keep the peace, well enough."

Talk drifted on to the families that owned the blackberry presses and the rate they charged for their services, and the fact that more families were buying their own presses and doing it themselves.

"Valley families like to be self-sufficient as much as possible," said Scotty. "People don't mind helping each other out, but we don't want dependencies to build up. Folquet has become such a success by helping people help themselves. And of course by importing those items the Valley people can't have made locally. We have a couple of part-time blacksmiths here, but none of the three of them make complicated items. Just nails, and horseshoes, and household items, and simple weapons. Everything else comes in from Hopp and Calivandamar, on the caravans."

"I want to build a town here in the Valley, Scotty," said Ollivar. "I want to double the size of the Valley's settlement. We'll have proper blacksmiths here, then."

"Will that put our blacksmiths out of work, m'lord?" asked Scotty.

"I daresay there'll be enough work for all of them," said Ollivar.

Later Ollivar admired his sword in the candlelight of his room, running his fingers over the runes and remembering the bolt of lightning coursing down from the sky and destroying the tree. No, no earl or marquis was going to lay claim to _his_ sword. He'd back that up by force if necessary. He set the sword next to his bed and pulled the covers up. A good day, over all, lots to think about. Outside the skeleton workmen were cutting blocks of basalt and moving them into the trenches to build the foundations of his wall. Everything was going slowly, but it was going.

The following day he sent Scotty to visit Deena and set a date for their picnic lunch; she chose a day a week in the future, toward the end of summer, as blackberry season was reaching its height.

"I'll bring the lunch," Deena told Scotty, who passed the message along to Ollivar, and Ollivar had to be content to let it be so.

Ollivar had been speaking of his designs for the Valley to a number of people by this point, and people were beginning to speak back to him about what they thought of said plans. The older people of the Valley didn't like Ollivar's ideas to build a town in the Valley, they felt it would change the character of the Valley settlement in a harmful way. There were mostly Folquet's people, those forty and older, and they weren't shy in giving their opinions.

"Townies would feel they owned the place, they would," said Neville Bogs, one of the Valley's farming folk, who was fifty-six. "And it would work ill for the Valley people, who have little money to their names. Townies would have money, and the Valley people would be poor in their own homes."

The younger people in the Valley were more interested in a town going in, because it might mean employment for them.

"Right now all you can be is a farmer, or maybe a merchant," said Arthur Willis, aged fifteen. "I might want to try my hand at blacksmithing. New town would need a blacksmith, and blacksmith's apprentices. Might be an opportunity, there. And if there was a town, we could sell the Valley produce and wines to the townies, without having to take it all the way to Hopp. Better for all concerned, that way."

Folquet talked to people and passed their comments on to Ollivar for the older folk, and Scotty did the same for the younger people of the Valley. Folquet was worried about losing the farming feel of the Valley if a town were to go in.

"Right now Peach Orchard Valley is a farming community," he said. "If you put a town in here, the nature of the Valley will change. There will be tension between the townies and the farming folk. If that's well managed it can be a good thing, I think, like they do it in Hopp, where there are two thousand townies and three thousand farmers. They get along there because the barons make an effort to keep the townies and the farmers happy with each other. But they're definitely living in two different worlds in Hopp, Ollivar. Town and country. They have separate feasts, separate festivals, separate celebrations. The town feels like a farming community because there are many more farmers than townies. Maybe you should start with a small town, say three hundred people, and leave the farmers in charge of the Valley. Then the changes wouldn't be so drastic. And, a town that small wouldn't really be competition with Hopp. The caravans would still need to go to Hopp, and merchants wouldn't be displaced."

Ollivar thought this over and decided that a smaller town, at least to start, was a good idea. Many of the families in the Valley had been there for decades, and he didn't want to displace them with town folk, or reduce them to second-class citizens. If the town was smaller, it would rely more on the farming folk, and the chances for cooperation would be greater. There would still be a blacksmith and other craftspeople, so the Valley would be that much more self-sufficient than it was now. And, it would be easier to recruit for a smaller town. They might be able to get enough people from Hopp alone, for just three hundred citizens. Ollivar had to admit that Folquet had a good head on his shoulders and had the wisdom of his years.

Ollivar sent to Hopp for an architect and an engineer who could draw up plans for a castle, and within the week these two were quartered at the long house and making a daily trek up the Valley to look at a site Ollivar had selected. He wanted the castle fairly close to the town, no more than a mile away from it, with room for both to grow over the years. The engineer took a couple of skeleton workmen with him and dug into the soil until he hit bedrock about ten feet down and then examined the rock. He declared the site to be a reasonably good one for a castle, with hard bedrock to support the walls, though there would have to be a lot of digging to prepare the place.

The architect and Ollivar had many intense discussions about curtain walls and underground rooms and inner keeps, and then the architect began drawing up plans for a small castle of about a hundred rooms. The only castle Ollivar had ever been in belonged to Lord Erol and was a giant place, with hundreds of rooms that sprawled over the top of a hill and overlooked Calivandamar. He didn't need a palace that big, but he wanted a place big enough to put up guest parties like Lord Erol's at a moment's notice, and to have everything he needed under one roof. Something with about three stories, and a six story inner keep, and a large courtyard for knights to train in. Ollivar hadn't forgotten Lord Erol's promise that he'd receive knights within a year of taking the barony, and he needed a place to put them. For now the long house would have to do, but over the long term he wanted the knights to have better quarters.

In the middle of this preliminary work on the castle came Ollivar's picnic lunch with Deena. She came to the long house with a picnic basket, and the two of them walked down to the river and spread a blanket under some willows that grew on the banks.

"All the Valley is buzzing with news of your town, Ollivar," Deena said.

"I will formally address my ideas with the Valley people at the harvest celebration, at the end of Sixer," said Ollivar. "Right now I'm just gathering opinions about the idea."

"You seem to like causing a controversy," she said. "You've come into the Valley full of ideas, and people are worried about the course things are going to take."

Ollivar discussed Folquet's ideas for making the town smaller than originally planned, about three hundred citizens instead of five hundred, and Deena said, "That seems a more sensible idea than making the town as big as all the farming folk put together. Scotty has been asking around to what people think of your idea, so I assume he's been reporting back to you what we say?"

"Yes, he gives me the news every few days. People certainly don't lack for opinions."

"Yes, I'm sure of that. It's such a lovely day; will the pace here in the Valley start going faster with a town laid in? I've never lived by a town before, Ollivar, the prospect of change in the Valley is fearful. It's nice as it is. I suppose townies would want to disturb the barrows as well, looking for treasure. They'd hear about your finds and be inspired."

"As long as they're well-equipped for meeting the walking dead, I don't object to people hunting treasure in the barrows. I'd prefer it be groups rather than individuals, but my own experience of the mounds suggests there aren't too many dead things lying in wait. I've opened dozens of tombs now and only found one jangling man so far."

Deena took a meatball sandwich out of the picnic basket and handed another to Ollivar. She bit into hers and swallowed the food. "I can see how a dressmaker would be a valuable addition to the Valley, and perhaps a seamstress or two, and of course there would be a blacksmith. An inn might be of value, and a tavern or pub would be appreciated by a lot of the men. My father would go to a pub if one were opened."

Ollivar laughed. "Always room for a pub or two in any town. Right now Folquet's is the watering hole, as I understand it, at least for the older people. A pub would be a new meeting place. That's how they work in the big city, anyway. I assume they'd work the same out here."

"I like the idea of a tailor or dressmaker," said Deena. "Right now the work of a farm daughter is never done, you're always mending old clothes or sewing new things together. It would be exciting to have a real craftswoman making clothes here in the Valley. A lot of people order from Hopp, as is now. I'd think a clothier right here in the Valley would be cheaper than ordering from somewhere else."

"I envision dozens of craftspeople living in Bonehaven Town," said Ollivar. "I'd like to bring in a healer, if we can find one that will work with a white necromancer. Healers tend to be aloof, from what I understand; I've only met one, and she was a pain."

"That would be good. Every winter the winter sickness comes and kills a couple of children, sometimes half a dozen. It's hard to get a healer to come out to our Valley from Hopp, because they know they won't make much money out here. There was a healer in Hopp who used to come out twice a winter and cure the winter sickness, but she was old and passed away a few years ago. Her apprentice is a young man who doesn't like to make the journey, so we're lucky if he comes once a winter. A healer living here in the Valley would be a good idea, but they're expensive, Ollivar. I think it takes two barons in Hopp to pay for one healer for the whole town. Not to mention they're arrogant and what you said, aloof."

"A little arrogance isn't a bad thing," said Ollivar. "That seems to be the angelic temperament, and it rubs off on their healers. Wonder how much it would cost me, having a full time healer? Wonder if there would be enough work for one?"

"There are a lot of injuries here in Peach Orchard Valley," said Deena. "Farm work sees a lot of wounds, especially when people get drunk and try to do their work. Valley people aren't drunkards as a rule, but all that blackberry wine and peach brandy around, well... So I think a healer would have enough to do to keep them occupied."

"I should put out the word in Calivandamar that I'm seeking a healer," mused Ollivar. "It might take some time for one to become available, and by then the winter sickness will have come. I don't want my citizens dying on me, if there's a way to prevent it. Especially children."

"Folquet has tried to attract healers here in the past, but we couldn't offer them enough pay. They're horribly expensive, Ollivar, a true extravagance. Folquet told my father that a freshly graduated healer costs five gold pieces a month, and an experienced healer is ten gold pieces a month, or even fifteen if they have a reputation. That's more than we could afford. It's no wonder that only the nobility can afford to employ healers."

"In the big city healers can go into practice for themselves," said Ollivar. "They work for the people who need them. But the city is expensive, and they charge dearly for their services. I understand there's only about one healer for each thousand citizens, so they're busy. Wealthy, too."

"Do you really think you can bring one out here?" said Deena.

"I think I can certainly try." Ollivar took a big bite of his sandwich and chewed; it was delicious, and hearty. There was a thick sauce on the meatballs that gave them a tomato flavor, and there were spices that Ollivar couldn't identify right off.

"This is excellent, Deena," he said. "Did you prepare this, or was it your mother?"

"Please," she said. "I made this lunch. I'm pleased you like it."

"Very much. I think I've mentioned this before, but I'm thinking of offering Alain a little money to go travelling with, what do you think? The Valley would benefit from a professional troubadour. If he took a year and went to Hopp and Calivandamar to learn new music, and then came back to the Valley with his songs, everyone would benefit. I wouldn't offer him much, a few gold pieces, but that would be more than enough to see him on his way."

"I don't think Alain is worried about money," Deena said. "He's been playing his music at all sorts of events here in the Valley for years, and other than clothes and women, what does he have to spend it on? I think he has plenty of money. What he needs is someone to push him out the door, get him interested in travelling. Maybe tell him tales of the big city to whet his appetite for adventure. He can tell tales of the barrows, people are always interested in that sort of thing. And he can make up a song about you, Ollivar. The new white necromancer, from someone who has met you. That would have to be of value to any troubadour."

"I think so, too," said Ollivar. He was wearing a small backpack, which he now slid off his back and rummaged around in. He withdrew the gold mask of the ancestor he had found and showed it to Deena.

"He was a bold man, wasn't he?" she said. "Look at that chin. He was quite stern."

"His eyes are ferocious," said Ollivar. "If he was a lord, he was a warrior of some kind."

"This mask must be worth a fortune. Are you going to sell it, or keep it?"

"I was thinking of selling it, but now I think I'll keep it as a souvenir of the barrows. One day all the barrows may be opened, and all the gold will be melted down. I'm keen to see a few treasures survive."

"They'll never open all the barrows," said Deena. "There are hundreds of thousands of them, I'm told. It's over a hundred kilometers to the nearest dead city, and all the land between there and here is raised in barrows. And the barrows go on for another sixty kilometers northward, up the Bright River. There are millions of skeletons buried in those mounds."

"Never underestimate greed," said Ollivar. "I'll bet a thousand barrows have already been opened, judging by all the opened ones I see out there in the foothills. It's just a matter of time until they're all opened."

"More time than we have to worry about," said Deena.

Ollivar saw a chance and leaned close and kissed Deena on the cheek. She squirmed a little but didn't resist him, and he laughed to see tomato sauce on her cheek.

"Oops," he said. "Now you've got sauce on your cheek."

She wiped it away and laughed. "You're taking inspiration from that mask," she said.

"Yes! I, the dead lord of the ancestors, have come to claim your women!" said Ollivar.

Deena laughed again. "You can see your skeleton workmen from here, working on the wall," she said. "They're moving a lot of stone, but it's a big job. So far it's all foundations, isn't it? They haven't started the upper parts yet."

"It'll be years before they get very far on the upper parts," said Ollivar. "It drives me wild that progress is so slow, but I don't want to make too many workmen. They'd start getting in each other's way if I made more."

"Ollivar, do you want to get married one day?" said Deena. "I'm just wondering."

"I think so. My mother and father were very happy together. Marriage looks like a good idea."

"Children?"

"Yes, two or three. No more than that. Not like farm families, seven or ten children."

"Five is enough for me," said Deena. "I like having four brothers and sisters. But I don't think I want that many for myself. Women die here in the Valley, in childbirth. Not a lot of us do, but some do. There are midwives, but we need a healer to be there for the hard births."

"Another good reason to hire a healer. Very well, I'll put out the word, and we'll look to recruit, right away. A freshly-minted healer, right out of Calivandamar."

They ate for a while without saying much, then Ollivar said, "I miss my little sister. She's a funny little thing, always running around making noise. Drives my mother to distraction."

"You mentioned her. She's seven years old, right?"

"That's right. Be eight in a few months. A winter baby. The hardest part of moving out here to Peach Orchard Valley is being away from my mother and sister. My sister is growing up, and I'm going to miss that, unless I can convince them to move out here. But my mother doesn't want to leave her friends behind in Calivandamar, and I can't blame her for that. She's known those women since she was a girl."

"I could never leave Peach Orchard Valley," said Deena. "All my friends are here, and my family. I can't imagine moving away even to Hopp, which is just a day's ride. I'd be lost there. Utterly lost."

"I thought I would miss Calivandamar, but the Valley life agrees with me," said Ollivar. "I find I don't miss the big city at all. I never had enough money to really enjoy the city in the way the wealthy can. It was just a big place filled with lots of people, and lots of parties for young men to attend. The Valley has everything I need, I'm surprised to say."

"It's kind of you to say so. I find our life here simple but satisfying. I like the festivals the most, it's good to see people enjoying themselves."

They talked of their families for a while, of Jenet Teedy and Timmorn Flint and their parents, and the afternoon turned into early evening. They finished the food in the basket, there had been a lot of it, and Deena eventually excused herself and made ready to leave.

"Next time, you can come back to the long house," said Ollivar.

"I'd like that," she said. Then Ollivar sent a couple of bone lords to accompany her back to her parents' house, and their lunch was over.

The rest of that evening Ollivar thought about everything that had been said. Deena was asking about marriage, and children! This seemed like a good direction to go in, the direction of life. She obviously felt comfortable with him. He wondered if he was truly ready to discuss such matters, was it time to think in this way? If it wasn't, what did he want from Deena, then? He fantasized about bedding her. What would she be like? He'd never bedded a woman before, and all he had to rely on were the descriptions from his friends in Calivandamar. He felt a keen curiosity about how she would perform and shivered as he thought about her. The kisses were good, they were the right thing to do, but now what? Did he want to have dinner after lunch after dinner, with just little kisses to tide him over? How fast should he try to push her? When you started thinking about it there were all these questions, and no one to give him answers. He would have to muddle through on his own and do the best he could, there was nothing else for it.

The engineer who had come to examine the building site for the castle and the town left for Hopp once more, but the architect stayed on. He would have several weeks' work in drawing up plans for a castle. Since Ollivar was planning to visit his family at the end of Fiver, he had many discussions with the architect now, to give him guidance for what he expected his castle to contain. The architect paced around the castle site and studied the land and drew up crude plans, which he got Ollivar to agree to, then he started on the detailed plans. He was going to work on the map of the castle while Ollivar was away and be ready to show Ollivar the diagrams when Ollivar returned from Calivandamar.

At the end of Fiver Ollivar took the caravan with Folquet to see his mother and little sister again. His mother seemed surprised to see him but heartened, and Jenet was clearly pleased at his arrival. Ollivar brought money back this time and took his little sister on a shopping expedition to buy her new dresses and clothes, and for his mother he bought bath oils and scented candles and incense, things he knew she liked but could not afford for herself. His mother's house had more candles in it than usual, which pleased him; the money he was sending her was being spent on the household. It was good.

He stayed the four days that the caravan was in town, and the time went too quickly. His mother cooked excellent meals, as good in his opinion as his cook in Peach Orchard Valley, and his little sister regaled him with tales of school and her friends and life in the city. He told them about the summer festival and the stories of the Valley and Alain the troubadour, and Jenet said,

"It sounds wonderful, Ollivar. I wish I could visit you there."

"Talk to mother, and see if she'll let you come to visit in the summer, when school is out. You can stay with me in Peach Orchard Valley, in my long house. It's too late for you to come this year, but next year you can stay with me. I'm sure mother would agree. I just wish I'd thought of it for this year. Too many things on my mind."

"I want to see your skeleton warriors, and the wall you're building, and I want to meet this Deena person," said Jenet. "The summer festival sounds like such fun! I miss you, Ollivar."

"I miss you, too, little sister," Ollivar said, and the weight of the loss of her crushed down on him. He'd only been in Peach Orchard Valley for four months, and he'd come back twice already, but it was not enough. He cursed himself for a fool for not thinking of having Jenet come out to the Valley for the summer; why hadn't he been thinking? He'd been so busy making skeleton warriors, and adjudicating Valley disputes, and marrying couples, and visiting with Deena, that he hadn't been thinking properly. And now the opportunity was gone, because the school year was starting again in a week.

Jenet brought up a visit to Ollivar with their mother, and Lilac Teedy listened to Jenet's breathless recitation of the good things about the Valley life and said of course she could go to visit Ollivar next summer, why not?

"But you understand you have to ride a horse for three days to get there and three days to come back, right?" said Lilac.

"I can do that," said Jenet. "I rode a horse once at the harvest festival, and that was fun."

"This is a lot longer than a ten minute ride," said Lilac. "But yes, I think you can go to visit your brother next summer. We'll look forward to it, in fact."

"Yay!" said Jenet, and thus the matter was decided.

During his last day in Calivandamar Ollivar visited the castle of Lord Erol with half a dozen carefully-chosen items from the single tomb, the finest necklaces and fobs and medallions from the ancestor lord. He was told Lord Erol was busy, which he expected, but the castellan took his gifts and promised they'd find their way to Lord Erol. Ollivar told the castellan of the single tomb and its golden treasures, and the castellan absorbed it all with interest and said he would pass on the tales to Lord Erol as well as the booty. Ollivar had to be thus satisfied.

Four days passed swiftly, and then it was time to return to the Valley. Jenet cried, and Ollivar found himself teary-eyed at leaving the two of them again, but there was nothing for it but to get going. He left them some more money to see them through, and then he returned to the caravansary and took up his horse and rode back to Peach Orchard Valley. On the way back they were stopped by a small troop of twenty bandits, who tried to hold the caravan to ransom, but Ollivar paralyzed them, and the caravan guards slaughtered them to the man.

"Always glad to have you on the caravan road," Folquet said, and Ollivar shrugged.

"You'd think that the last batch we destroyed would have made you a reputation," he said.

"No, the bandits are always willing to push their luck. Partly vigor, partly desperation. Partly stupidity. That's two groups of bandits we've wiped out now, maybe they'll give up this particular caravan route for a while."

In Hopp Ollivar went to visit Baron Harding, which was an annoying time of it, and he was glad he was only going to be in Hopp for a few hours. Harding was his usual truculent self.

"I'm going to want to hire builders for this town of mine, and I'll want to hire them from Hopp, since you're closest to the Valley," said Ollivar to the baron.

"Already stealing away my talent, and you've only been out there a few months!" said the baron. "Well, I suppose it's no business of mine, so long as they pay their taxes on wages earned. There's building going on here in Hopp, but not a lot, so I expect they'll be glad for the work. Even if it's up to their eye teeth in bone men. You might have a bit of a time of it getting people to go out to your Valley, Baron Teedy, I don't know if the promise of good wages alone will do it. You can but try."

Thus reassured he would have no problems from the barons of Hopp in fulfilling his plans, Ollivar hired an agent under Folquet's suggestion to begin recruiting builders for the construction of Bonehaven Town and his castle. The hiring of the agent would have been a tricky business without Folquet's valuable guidance, and again Ollivar was glad for the older man's presence. Between Folquet and Scotty Ollivar was learning the walk of a baron.

The following morning the caravan left Hopp for the Valley, and Ollivar twitched and swayed on the back of his horse for the next ten hours as the train of horses returned home. They arrived in Peach Orchard Valley without further incident, and Ollivar was gladdened when his bone lords came to meet him. He went back to the long house and talked with Scotty, who told him there had been no significant incidents while he had been away. The cook had a meal waiting for him, and he gladly dug into the liver pot pie and cauliflower that was offered.

"Good trip to the city?" Scotty asked.

"I gave my gifts to Lord Erol and saw my family, so I accomplished everything I wanted to do," said Ollivar. "Folquet saw my gold treasures represented at the barrow merchant's shop, so it was a fruitful trip as well."

"Excellent," said Scotty. "Some boys threw rocks at your skeleton warriors, but they were chastised by Folquet's son. Remember him?"

"I remember from the summer festival," Ollivar said, but he couldn't remember the fellow's name. "How did the skeleton warriors acquit themselves?"

"They threatened the boys who were throwing rocks, but the boys kept on anyway. Tocks had to threaten them with imprisonment to get them to stop."

"Tocks, right." Now Ollivar remembered the name of Folquet's oldest son. "Well, at least the skeleton warriors didn't attack anyone while I was away. That would have been bad."

"There was a rough childbirth while you were away. Dawn Sable barely survived her child's birth, she was almost exhausted to death. But the midwife managed to save both her and her infant."

"That reminds me, Scotty, while I was in Calivandamar I put out the call for a healer. Deena tells me there are a number of rough childbirths, and sometimes women die in birthing, and there are many injuries on the farms. I want to bring in a newly-minted healer for the Valley's people. I know it'll be expensive, but I don't want my citizens dying on me."

"That would be a relief, Baron Teedy. This Valley has needed a healer for forty years, but we've never been able to afford one. Now that you're raiding the stone tombs, perhaps it's time to enquire about one. If you put a town in, there'll be eight hundred people in the Valley. That's enough to bring on a healer. He or she would be plenty busy with that many people about."

"We need a special person if they're going to live in the valley of the white necromancer," said Ollivar. "We may have to pay more to get them to come out to the end of the road."

Then Ollivar finished his meat pie and let Scotty go for the night, and he turned in. The bed felt superb after three days on the road.

Over the next week or so, into Sixer, Ollivar raided a number of stone tombs, opening one a day. Each morning he borrowed Folquet's white horse and perched it atop a tomb, and when it failed to kick the turf he had his skeleton workmen open the mound. Inside each tomb was the expected pile of gold coins and row of gemstones, which he took for his own. He was worrying about the cost of a healer, and the costs of the architect and the engineer he'd brought in for the castle preliminaries, and the costs of building Bonehaven next spring, and starting on his castle. He was going to need a lot of money for these people and these tasks, so he might as well start gathering it now. Hopefully the items from the lord's tomb would fetch a good price, and by next spring he would have many thousands of gold coins stored up. He turned one of the rooms of his long house into a treasury and stationed half a dozen bone lords outside the room and outside the building to prevent people breaking into the room and making off with his money. He didn't think anyone in the Valley was a serious criminal, but all that money laying about in one place had to be a temptation to the restless, and it was better that it was guarded.

The architect had been busy while Ollivar was away to the capital, and now he presented Ollivar with plans for a castle. Ollivar made changes to the number of towers and the thickness of the walls—he wanted a strongly defensible place—but was otherwise pleased with the architect's vision for the castle. He needed to name the place soon, but he had no ideas as to what to name it. Peach Orchard Castle, most likely. Something simple like that. Naming things was a skill unto itself, and Ollivar knew he didn't have it. Perhaps he should ask Scotty or Folquet? But already he relied on those two for so much, was he expecting them to do the naming for him, too? No. He would give his own names, feeble though they might be.

On the tenth of Sixer something strange happened. Ollivar brought out the white horse as he always did and took it into the plains beyond Peach Orchard Valley, where the stone tombs lay. He picked a tomb and guided the white horse to it, and immediately the white horse began pawing the ground and champing at the bit.

"Soul screamer, is that it?" Ollivar said to the horse. The animal looked frightened, and Ollivar marked the tomb with bone lords and took the horse back to Folquet's stables. Then he returned to the mound. Everything he knew about soul screamers poured through his mind: that they were insubstantial and could not be injured by mere steel, that they were very intelligent and thus extremely dangerous, and that their shriek caused instant death in anything up to twenty meters distant. He had heard that soul screamers had command of the lesser walking dead as well, though he didn't know if this was true or not. The song of First Knight McKellin flowed through him, of his famous battle against soul screamers with his ears plugged with wax, but again he didn't know if this was true or just a story.

Ollivar took Skyripper out of its scabbard and hefted the blade. It took magic to destroy soul screamers, and for this he would summon the lightning. Did lightning injure soul screamers? If it didn't, what would he do? He trotted a hundred meters away from the stone tomb and summoned half a dozen of his bone lords to attend him. Then he had the skeleton workmen bite their shovels into the mound and open it up.

The response from within the tomb was instantaneous. A black shadow slid out of the hole in the tomb and into the bright sunlight. It was shaped vaguely like a man but was tattered and flapping in the breeze, like ghosts were said to do. Immediately the shadow tilted its head back and let loose a horrific scream that shook Ollivar to the quick. The twisting ululation sawed through his nerves like a dull knife, bringing terror to his heart and sweat to his brow. The shadow turned atop the mound and faced Ollivar, then it raised one fist. The bone lords Ollivar had left on the mound stiffened at the soul screamer tried to wrest them from Ollivar's control.

Ollivar raised Skyripper and pointed at the soul screamer, and a bolt of lightning shot down from the blue sky and struck the thing on the head. There was a vivid after-vision in Ollivar's sight, a jagged squiggle of energy burned into his eyes, and there was a clap of thunder that rumbled on and on and deafened him.

The soul screamer was not stopped. It threw back its head and screamed again, but this time Ollivar could barely hear it for the burst of thunder and was not so frightened by its sound. The wretched thing floated over the ground toward Ollivar, moving against the breeze, flapping and swaying as it moved.

Ollivar knew he had only seconds to act. He handed Skyripper to a bone lord and commanded the bone lord to attack the soul screamer; the bone creation shambled across the plains toward the moving shadow. Then the soul screamer turned its will on the bone lords, and again Ollivar had to fight to retain control of his creations. The soul screamer was _strong_ ; Ollivar's creations were powerfully tethered to him, but this creature threatened to undo in seconds what had taken Ollivar hours to summon into life as magic. The bone lord with Skyripper staggered along, swinging the blade back and forth, and the soul screamer turned all its attention onto this one creation. Ollivar felt a massive headache erupt in his mind as he fought with the soul screamer for control of his bone lord. The bone lord stumbled and fell to one knee, got up, swung the sword. The soul screamer focused its yellow and malevolent eyes on Ollivar and screamed once more, quivering Ollivar. If it got any closer it would kill him with its cries.

Then the bone lord with Skyripper reached the soul screamer and swung the sword, and there was a new kind of scream as the magic blade bit into the tattered creature. The soul screamer swung a fist into the bone lord, and Ollivar could hear a popping, crunching noise. The bone lord shivered violently. It swung Skyripper again and this time struck the soul screamer in the neck. The soul screamer fell back and tumbled to the ground, and the bone lord drove Skyripper through its head. The black shadow broke apart and blew away on the morning breezes, and the fight was over.

Ollivar stood on the plains where he was for a long time before finally moving up to make certain the soul screamer was destroyed. The grass where the creature had fallen was dead, dead in the ragged outline of a man, and Ollivar knew he had just gotten very, very lucky. If the soul screamer had had a few more moments to close the distance it would have killed him. From now on, no more opening tombs where the white horse pawed the mound. The summoned lightning from Skyripper hadn't hurt the thing at all, had not even slowed it down a little. Ollivar would remember this for the future.

He got down on his hands and knees and stuck his head in the tomb. Within it was dark, and it took several moments for his eyes to adjust. Then he saw that there were only two skeletons in the tomb. They were lying on their sides, facing each other, and had their arms around one another. Ollivar crawled into the tomb and examined the skeletons. They were wearing jewelry, lots of jewelry, and between them was a bowl full of more jewelry, scores of pieces of the stuff. He felt like an intruder in a lover's tomb, but that didn't prevent him from stuffing the jewelry into a bag he had brought with him. He decided he would not use these two as part of his skeletal workforce; they would be left in the peace of their grave.

There were rotten pieces of wood all around the skeletons, about two feet high and looking like they had once been statuettes, but the moist air of the tomb had destroyed them almost completely. Ollivar recalled other statuettes he had found in other stone tombs and wondered why the ancestors had buried such perishable items with their dead. Jewelry he could understand, it would last forever, but wooden statuettes? For what purpose? Maybe they had been made in the likeness of the dead of the tomb, reminders of life.

He wondered who the dead people in the tomb had been and took another look around inside the place, hoping to find a lead plaque or some such that would have writing on it to explain to him who the ancestors had been. He had never heard of tomb writings being discovered in the barrows, but he had never heard of a tomb with just two skeletons in it, either.

When he was done raiding the tomb he returned to Peach Orchard Valley and went to visit Folquet, whom he told about the ancestral lovers. He showed Folquet the jewelry, and Folquet said:

"The workmanship of this jewelry is exquisite. It's better than anything our craftsmen can perform today. Do you want me to take them to the agent in Calivandamar for sale?"

"I think so," said Ollivar. "Jewelry doesn't interest me overmuch. It's just money to me."

"Not as compelling as a mask, is it?" said Folquet. "Still, there's a mystery to the double burial that begs for our consideration. Who were they? Why were they buried alone, unlike their fellows being buried in stacks of forty? Why so much jewelry, when other tombs only contain a little gold and some gemstones?"

"I wish the necromantic magic that lets me talk to the dead weren't so twisted and wicked to use, or I'd summon the spirits of those dead in the tomb and talk to them. Assuming they could understand our speech, of course."

"I'd assume that other necromancers have already spoken with spirits of the ancestors. They must have had many of the same questions we have had. Too bad they're all killed, so we can't gain their knowledge."

"Strange people, necromancers," said Ollivar. "They live only to kill regular people. The spells that they employ drive them mad, and they become suicidal in the service of their demonic masters. All their skills and abilities, all their gifts, rot on the vine. They all end up dead and hope only to attain some passing reputation for unusual cruelty or destruction. I wonder what happens to them after they die, then?"

"The healers say their souls go to hell and become imps and other hell-spawn," said Folquet. "They then write books of necromancy which they leave for other mortal men to find and use, and the cycle starts anew."

"I've heard the same," said Ollivar. "There will always be people attracted to wickedness, the cycle of necromancy will never end. We are cursed with it forever." This sobered him, and the spirit of inquiry under which he had approached Folquet drained away. A white necromancer was half a necromancer, or even less. He could use only a handful of spells and rituals instead of the dozens which were available, because the magic was so steeped in evil that it was unemployable. Yet people feared him as they would a black necromancer. He received the terror without the power that came with full necromancy. It was unjust, but it was his lot in life, if he stuck with his magic. He thought of Lord Erol's idiot heir, with his constant jabs at Ollivar and his magic. This was what he could expect from most people, mindless hatred and fear.

"I'll leave this jewelry with you, Folquet, to dispose of during your next trip to the city. I'm eager to sell some of these pieces and bring money into my treasury. I have building projects to conduct, and they'll be expensive."

"See to it you don't bring ruinous debt onto yourself," warned Folquet. "A castle can cost a million pieces of gold to construct; even a small one can be half or three quarters of a million. That's a lot of tombs, Baron Teedy."

Ollivar took his leave of Folquet and went back to the long house, where he told Scotty the story of the soul screamer and how he destroyed it. The young man said:

"Fortunate for you to have a sword that can destroy such creatures. If you hadn't had it, what would you have done?"

"Not opened the tomb. That's the end of that sort of thing for me, no more soul screamers. Too dangerous. At least now I know that the white horse story is true."

Scotty and Ollivar talked about the jewelry from the stone tombs and wondered aloud who the two lovers might be, perhaps some famous ancestors who were known for their love affair.

"Whoever they were, the ancestors regarded them highly enough to place a soul screamer to guard their tomb," said Scotty. "Could that have been one of the lovers?"

"No," said Ollivar. "Soul screamers consume the body of the person they're made from. Both skeletons were intact."

"I'm surprised there wasn't something magic in the tomb," said Scotty. "A soul screamer is a powerful guardian. You'd think it would be guarding something potent."

"Maybe some of the jewelry is magic?" said Ollivar, who was now regretting having given the jewelry to Folquet to sell.

"That could be," said Scotty. "Can you tell magic from dross, Baron Teedy?"

"No, I don't have such a spell," Ollivar said. "I'll have to ask Folquet to have a sorcerer in Calivandamar detect for magical jewelry. Good idea, Scotty, good thinking."

"I try," said the young man.

Another week passed by, and Ollivar opened three more tombs, none of which had the walking dead in them. Each contained forty gold coins and a small pile of gemstones; there were no unusual treasures and no unusual skeletons. On the 17th of Sixer a messenger came from Hopp and came straight to the long house. This man was in his early twenties and was conceited; he said haughtily to Ollivar:

"Baron Daljeel of Hopp is going to pay a visit in a week's time, Baron Teedy. He will bring ten knights with him and expects to have the run of your house. He wants you to see to it that you are prepared for his visit."

"Tell Baron Daljeel that my house is always open to my fellow nobles, _provided_ they come in peace."

This satisfied the messenger, who then said: "Baron Teedy, Baron Daljeel is used to noble prerogatives. He will want the best."

"I'm not a marquis, to hand out rich gifts at the coming of every little baron," Ollivar said crossly. "The baron will receive the same hospitality that all men receive in my house. Prepare him for that expectation, and his visit will be a fruitful one. Did he say what his visit was about, or am I to guess he's simply coming to take my measure?"

"He says he wishes to meet the new baron and welcome him to the territory," said the messenger.

"Hmm, at least not yammering on about vile necromancy," said Ollivar, thoughtfully. "That's an improvement over other nobles I've met so far. You must stay here tonight, messenger, and you can return tomorrow. The cook can see to it you get some good meals in your belly and have rich food for your journey tomorrow."

"I am most appreciative," sniffed the messenger. Ollivar had Scotty see to a room for the messenger, and the man bedded down early to get good rest for his ride back to Hopp the next day.

After the messenger had turned in Ollivar had a late snack from food left over from dinner. He hadn't released Scotty for the day yet and said to the younger man:

"What do you know about this Baron Daljeel, Scotty? Anything?"

"He has a snake's tongue and never says what he means," said Scotty. "He visited here several times while the knights were here. Always checking up on the Valley. He seems to have an interest in the place that goes beyond what he should have, but it's anyone's guess as to what he really wants."

"At least he sent word he's coming, he hasn't simply shown up on my doorstep like these other nobles. Even Lord Erol showed up unexpectedly. I wonder if that's the custom among the nobility? Surprise visits and barely disguised inspections? Or is that my fate alone?"

"I'd say it's common for the nobility to come unannounced," said Scotty. "Both barons from Hopp would come to visit the Valley without forewarning. To visit with the knights, they said, but they always spoke with Folquet and the Valley people as well, asking after our welfare. We used to pay taxes to the barons of Hopp, for the upkeep of the knights. I think they wanted to annex the Valley but couldn't come up with a way to make that acceptable to Lord Erol, so they never did. We were just settlers without a baron of our own, for forty years."

"I wonder that he didn't just send word through the merchants, they'll be going to Hopp in a few days," said Ollivar.

"Baron Daljeel follows a noble's upbringing, I've heard it said," said Scotty. "He would rather use his own messengers than trust an important message to a caravan master. That way his wealth and influence is on display."

Ollivar grunted. "I see," he said. " 'I have power and money.' "

"Yes, Baron Teedy."

"Sounds like a joy to be around. I've one baron trying to give me orders, Lord Erol just checking up on me at whim, and now this one who expects to be treated like a lord."

"The messenger is correct," Scotty said. "He'll complain no matter how he's put up. That's just his nature. Food never rich enough, rooms never big enough, maids never friendly enough, that's Baron Daljeel's way of it."

"Well, we shall simply do our best, and if he becomes too annoying I will cut him off," said Ollivar.

Four days later Ollivar had Deena over for dinner, which was a rich array of vegetable dishes with pork chops. They spoke of the soul screamer and the lovers' tomb, which Deena had heard tell of already but wanted to hear Ollivar talk about. He spoke at some length about the soul screamer and how dangerous it had been and how he had barely succeeded in destroying it; Deena was appreciative and said:

"Lucky for you that you had a creation that could withstand its scream. What possessed you to open such a tomb, anyway, knowing it was inside?"

"Well, it seems foolish now, but it was simple curiosity that bade me open the tomb," said Ollivar. "I have read of soul screamers, and of course I've heard stories and songs, but I've never seen one for myself. Never care to see another one, either."

"There must be hundreds of them in the stone tombs. Now you know they guard rich treasures, too."

"That I expected, though I didn't expect a double burial. The tombs are full of surprises."

"I've been told that about a hundred years ago some treasure hunters opened a tomb that contained three jangling men. The jangling men killed one of the treasure hunters, but the other treasure hunters managed to destroy the janglers. Inside the tomb were twenty skeletons arranged in a circle, with a magic circle and pentagram inside the circle. The pentagram was piled high with treasure, and the men were treasure-struck and grabbed for the gold and jewels and magic. A thousand skeletal hands came out of the magic circle and dragged the men into hell, and the tomb was left alone after that."

"Sounds like a fanciful tale to me," said Ollivar, but he had to admit the stone tombs held secrets, and a magic circle might be one such.

"Alain has made a pretty good song out of the story. No one remembers the name of the men any more, if indeed the story is true, so he made up names for them."

"I'll have to get him to sing it for me," Ollivar said. "Baron Daljeel is coming to visit in a few days; I'll arrange for Alain to provide us with song. Maybe the baron will be pleased."

"Not Daljeel. I hear he's a sour old soul who double-talks about everything."

"I've heard the same. Sounds like his visit should be interesting."

The conversation moved on to family, and Ollivar told Deena of his visit to his mother's house in Calivandamar and the arrangements for his little sister to come out for the next summer.

"Too bad she didn't come out _this_ summer," said Deena, and Ollivar felt sheepish.

"I didn't think of it for this year, too many other things going on," he said.

"Well, she won't grow much in a single year. It'll be quite a journey for an eight year old girl, three days on the caravan road."

"I'll accompany the caravan and keep an eye on things. I've already been part of a caravan under attack twice. I want to ensure my little sister has the best protection possible. And I can keep her company on the road."

They paused in their conversation to eat the excellent meal the cook had prepared, and Ollivar said, "Deena, I've been thinking. I want to bed you. What do you think?" It came out artless and stupid, but it was what he was thinking, and he wanted it out in the open.

Color rose in Deena's cheeks, and she blinked several times. "I think," she said slowly, "That you're out of luck, Ollivar Teedy. I like you, but if you want to bed me we need to become engaged first."

Now Ollivar felt wary and wondered what to do next. "Well," he said after a long moment, "It was just an idea."

"I like your idea, but I'm not a girl who sleeps around for fun," she said. "Alain likes girls like that. I'm old enough to make up my own mind in these affairs, and that's what I think."

"Okay," said Ollivar. "Now I know."

There was a long and awkward silence as the two of them ate their pork chops and drank peach brandy. Then they spoke of Deena's little brother Timmorn, and some funny things he had said, and they spoke of Deena's parents and what they thought of this courting.

"My mother thinks you are too forward," Deena laughed. "If she had heard what you said tonight she would forbid me coming here again, so we'll see what I end up telling her. She says you city boys are all fast talk and fast moves and no respect for a young lady."

"Maybe your mother is right, at least a little bit," said Ollivar. "Though I think if a man likes a lady, he should be forward in his desires. The shy bird gets no plumage." He wondered if she knew that story and then remembered it was taught in school, so she probably did.

"Yes. Well. You're definitely not shy, Ollivar."

They talked of other people in the Valley for a while, but the night felt played out, and Deena did not linger long after finishing her dinner. Ollivar sent a couple of bone lords to accompany her home, and then he contemplated the evening. He had told her what he was thinking, that was the important thing, and she had thrown it right back at him. Engagement! Already? They had only had a few meals together, wasn't that a bit fast? Of course, you could say that about his request to bed her, that maybe that had been a bit fast as well. In the city he knew young men who would ask a girl to bed on the first dinner together and think nothing of it if the girl accepted. He wondered if her response was the way of Valley women in general or was hers alone.

He felt he was making progress, though things were getting more serious now. He still liked her, and he wasn't bored with her and didn't think he would get that way. He wanted her company, he wanted her there to talk to all the time instead of just occasionally. She would make a good mate. She was intelligent, and she wasn't a good-time girl like some Ollivar had met in Calivandamar. She didn't seem interested in his money and had never brought it up, though she did like to talk about treasure hunting. All the Valley people seemed to like talking about the barrows and barrow gold, it was romantic and dangerous. Right now the story about the soul screamer was making the rounds, and there would be much speculation about the lovers and their treasures. It would give the Valley something to talk about for years, or at least until the next unusual discovery.

For the next four days, until Baron Daljeel arrived, Ollivar thought about Deena and her demand for engagement before bedding. He went to talk to Folquet and asked him what the Valley customs for engagement were.

"Same as anywhere else in Swan Domain," said Folquet. "There's the presentation of the circle of flowers, or a silver ring, or a silver necklace. Best to do the circle of flowers _and_ a ring or necklace, if the young man wants to remain in the young lady's best graces." He didn't ask Ollivar why he was asking about this, and Ollivar didn't say. He returned to the long house full of thought and asked Scotty who grew flowers in the Valley.

"Jean Roack grows flowers for weddings and gift-giving. They have a huge flower garden that his wife takes care of. Most families have small flower gardens, but if you need a _lot_ of flowers, it's Jean and Milandre Roack for you." Scotty gave him directions to the farm, and Ollivar decided he would visit the Roacks as soon as Baron Daljeel was away again. Also he would purchase a silver necklace from Hopp as soon as the caravan went to visit that town, which was about a week's time. Caravans went to Hopp during the second and fourth weeks of each month, and of course Folquet's caravan went during the fifth week of each month as well.

Baron Daljeel came on the twenty-eighth of Sixer with a retinue of ten knights. He was surprisingly young, no older than thirty, and had a square jaw and elegant nose that made him a handsome man. He was blonde, which was unusual in black-haired Swan Domain, and had ice-blue eyes. He was of average build, nothing unusual there, but he had a deep voice that commanded respect, reminding Ollivar of Lord Erol. He was riding at the head of his knights when he came to the long house, and the bone lords announced his presence. He was stroking his chin when Ollivar came out of the long house to greet him and his men and welcome them to dinner.

"Bone men in the Valley, how like old times," the baron said. "Save then of course we were destroying them, not following them to the long house. You must be the white necromancer, Baron Teedy."

"I am. I trust your ride was enjoyable?"

"Miserable. Horse threw a shoe and wouldn't take a new one, and one of the knight's horses took off running with him and eventually dumped him on the ground, almost breaking his leg. One day we'll have a better sort of animal than a horse to ride, but for now we're stuck with them, I suppose."

"Scotty will get your horses stabled, and there's a boy to take care of them. The knights have rooms in the south wing of the long house, and you of course have a guest room to the north. You are familiar with the long house, I'm told."

The baron dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Scotty, who took it away. "Right now I could care less about the accommodations, though if I remember right the bed is too soft, and the room is small. It's food I'm interested in, Baron Teedy, a meal after this insufferable ride."

"Come with me, then, and partake of the cook's fixings. It's fish stew and rice and fresh bread. The fish was caught just this morning, and should be excellent."

"Fish and rice are peasant's food, but I suppose if that's the best you have I'll be forced to take it," said Baron Daljeel. "Perhaps the peasants aren't all wrong."

Ollivar hadn't heard the word _peasant_ used before, Baron Harding called people by their occupations and not this general term. He'd read it in the past and knew what it meant, but he certainly didn't think of the people of his Valley as _peasants_. He remembered what Scotty had said about Baron Daljeel being born to the nobility and wondered what he was in for during this visit.

He led the way into the long house, and the knights and Baron Daljeel washed up and took places at the big table. It seated twenty and was a massive, solid affair, made of good local wood and put together by the Valley's own carpenters. Ollivar intended to keep it for the castle when he got that built. The cook filled bowls with stew and fed everybody, and the baron only made minor complaints, which Ollivar took as a good sign.

"So," said the baron. "Harding was right, you're a bit on the young side, Baron Teedy. Youth is such a gift, as they say."

"I was worried that people wouldn't respect me, but being a baron has its privileges."

"So it does! Bedding peasant girls, and all that. I suppose you're making your way through the Valley's buxom wenches?"

"Just one wench, actually," he said, without really meaning to.

"Oh-oh, be careful of those young women, they're all marriage-minded. Peasant girls like to capture a noble, they're not stupid!"

"Yes, well. This one has a claim on my heart, so I suppose she may get what she wants."

Baron Daljeel cackled at this and clapped his hands. "You're a little on the young side to marry, I'd say, but what the hell, they marry even younger in Hopp. Fourteen year old wenches who are barely women, getting the circle of flowers from fifteen-year-old boys. No one thinks twice of it but me, who would like to see people take a little more time before jumping in. Did you know the divorce rate in Hopp approaches forty percent? _That's_ what jumping in gets you, bad partnering and the messy expense of a divorce. Healers charge you to marry and attorneys charge you to break it up. So the world goes around."

This disturbed Ollivar, who had just been thinking about how fast his time with Deena was moving along. Too fast, maybe? Slow down, keep up the courting for a while? But he hadn't been properly courting her at all, had he? Just dinners and lunches, conversations that left him wanting more. How did you _know_ it was time to get engaged? How did you _know_ this was the right person for you? He didn't suppose it was mysterious, it was just a matter of feeling your way along and paying attention to your heart. And your loins, of course!

"You're married, Baron Daljeel?"

"Ten years of it, and happily so. No divorces in my immediate future, at least."

"I divorced my first wife," said one of the knights. "Woman was an insufferable nag. Sweet enough in courting, but once she had that ring of gold, she became a witch."

The baron laughed. "Aye, that happens too. Sometimes they change. Women! Sweetest scourge we'll ever face."

Ollivar reflected that the baron's reputation for not saying what he meant seemed to be a bit off, or he wasn't seeing it reflected yet. So far the man was a complainer, as he'd been warned, but he wasn't a double-talker.

"Now," said the baron. "About these bone men all over the place here in Peach Orchard Valley. How many of them do you have about, Baron Teedy? Harding said there were hundreds of them when he was here, and that was months ago. You must have a thousand by now, don't you? And what about the jangling men and the soul screamers and all that lot? Making them, too, are you? How do you keep them from killing the Valley people?"

"Five hundred is the number Lord Erol authorized me to raise," said Ollivar. "So that's how many I have. Five hundred skeleton warriors and bone lords, and about a hundred fifty skeleton workmen. I haven't made out a way to create jangling men and soul screamers that aren't thoroughly wicked, so I don't raise any. Though I've encountered both in raiding the barrows."

"Yes, Erol in his infinite wisdom has put quite a tax on the barrow treasure. What is it these days, thirty percent of everything found goes to him? Ridiculous. Treasure hunters in Hopp refuse to take the risks of opening the tombs if they're going to lose thirty percent off the top. I suppose Erol wants to save lives, or is he just growing greedy as his youth fades away? Wouldn't be the first lord of the domain to give in to gold fever as he got older."

"Lord Erol has a good head about him in matters of war. Gave Hawk Domain a good drubbing, in the Winter's War," said a knight. "Rare man that can give Hawk Domain a beating."

"Erol shouldn't have been riding at the head of his troops," said Baron Daljeel. "He should have handed the task off to a marquis or a duke and let them run the war. Lord Deconsis of Hawk Domain doesn't lead his own troops, he hands the task off to war chieftans. I suppose Erol knows what he's doing, but..."

"It was said to be inspiring to the troops to see the lord of the land riding with them," said Ollivar. His mother had let him read some of his father's old letters from the front of the Winter's War, and Ollivar's father had been quite impressed with Lord Erol's determination to ride at the head of the troops.

"Doubtless," said Baron Daljeel drily. "Inspiring to the common soldiers. Was it as inspiring to the nobility, or just nerve-wracking? Knowing he should have stayed in back and provided strategy, not ridden in front where he risked Swan Domain becoming leaderless. Or do you fancy Erol's heir taking the reins of the domain?"

Ollivar nearly gave a shiver at that thought. He was pretty certain that if the heir took over, Ollivar would be gracing the stake in short order.

"Don't get me started on that heir," said Baron Daljeel. "A more reactionary boy you can't hope to meet. Best education money can buy, but has it done any good? You can't hope for the strength of oak from a pine, they say. Soft wood, is my judgment."

"Can't fight, either, though he's had five years of lessons," said one of the knights.

"He didn't like me much," said Ollivar.

"I should imagine he doesn't like anyone who seems to have their wits about them," said Baron Daljeel. "Undisguised hatred for my person, the one time we met. They say you had a hand in healing the boy, Baron Teedy. Necromancy turned healing. Did you know how badly you were showing up the Healers' Guild? All their arts couldn't save the boy from a slow death, but you did. Everyone is talking about you in Hopp, Baron Teedy. I judge the fear to be short-lived, if strong right now. I hope you're ready for guests, come autumn's time."

"People keep warning me to expect a flood of troubadours, but so far they've not shown up at my doorstep," said Ollivar.

"They will. And adventurers, and treasure seekers, and necromancers convinced you're conning all of us in order to launch a strike against Swan Domain."

"We could take five hundred bone men," said one of the knights. "A hard fight, but the ten of us could handle it."

Ollivar didn't mention that his skeleton warriors were many times stronger than a traditional necromancer's bone men. The knights might be able to destroy fifty of his skeleton warriors before succumbing, but Ollivar was certain they'd get no farther than that. He almost wished the knights would try fighting his skeleton warriors, just to see how the fight went and to have a better idea of his creations' capabilities. Right now they hadn't killed so much as a wolf, so they were not tested. Knights were the best warriors the land offered, and if his creations could slay knights they could deal efficiently with anything else that might come along.

"My skeleton warriors are spread throughout the Valley," said Ollivar. "There are patrols on both ridges, north and south, and up in the mountain passes, looking for wolves. And of course they patrol the mouth of the Valley as well, watching for black necromancers."

"Whereas you style yourself as the _white_ necromancer," said the baron.

"Yes."

"Those fool troubadours are already weaving songs, without knowing much about you," said the baron. "Never let ignorance get in the way of making a song."

"I suppose," said Ollivar. "Did you notice the skeleton workmen making the wall, as you came in?"

"How could we miss it, there's a ten foot deep moat running half two kilometers in either direction. We followed the cairns in. The sight of those soulless creatures working the stone shivers one's own bones, let me tell you."

"It'll be four years before the wall is complete, as near as I can make out," said Ollivar. "Though I've been thinking of starting a team on the south side of the Valley as well and halving that time. The more I think of it the more I want to do it. Lord Erol didn't give me a limit on the number of workmen I manufacture, so I could have several hundred of them at work, I think."

"I've never heard of a necromancer making tool-using skeletons," said the baron. "You're unique in that regard, young man. Something to be proud of, no doubt?"

"A difficult ritual, with a lot of smaller spells wound into it," said Ollivar. "They're crude, but stone masonry is coarse work for the most part, so they can perform their tasks ably."

"Your agent in Hopp is hiring men on for next spring, to work on a town here in your Valley," said the baron. "And on a castle. Tell me, where are you getting the funds for all this construction? Building isn't cheap, I should know. I've overseen most of the new works in Hopp these last ten years or so."

"The stone tombs are my main source of income. I've been raiding the tombs. Found some unusual ones as well." He told the baron of the lord's tomb and the tomb of the lovers. The baron listened keenly and made small comments. When Ollivar was finished he said,

"Those pieces of jewelry from the tomb will fetch a small fortune, the petty nobility love such trinkets. They'll pay a handsome price for ancestors' gold. There are shops in Calivandamar that cater to those tastes. You can tell if their wares are real or not by the quality of the workmanship, as the ancestors were finer workers in gold and stones than we are today."

"Yes, I have such an agent handling my pieces," said Ollivar. "Each jewel should be worth several thousand pieces of gold, and there are several dozen such jewels. That will build Bonehaven Town. The castle will take ongoing raids on the stone tombs, but I'm hopeful to find other unusual tombs with rich treasure finds. The Valley is to be aflurry with building for the next half dozen years. I have plans for this place, Baron Daljeel. The end of the road will be where civilization begins, not where it ends."

"A worthy motto, if ever I've heard one," said the baron.

The knights finished their dinners, and Scotty saw them to their rooms. He suggested they bathe in the river before going to bed, and most of them complied. Ollivar wondered if the knights were going to stay armored their whole time in the Valley, as the other knights who had visited had. A hot, sweaty business, full metal armor. There would be a lot of bathing in the river, while they were here.

Ollivar and the baron stayed up for a long while, talking mostly of Hopp and the challenges of being a town baron as opposed to a country baron. They also spoke of Peach Orchard Valley, which Baron Daljeel poked fun at as a bunch of country hicks.

"Begrudged every peg I had to spend on knights for this place," said the baron. "Five hundred peasant malcontents who didn't want to live in the safety of Hopp but wanted to go it alone, and Erol said we had to provide protection for them. Glad it's your problem now, Baron Teedy. At least you've got the stone tombs to provide you with some wealth. My knights will be spreading the word of your rich finds, and there'll be treasure hunters, sure as you're born. I've sent treasure hunters out here in the past, but they haven't found much. The walking dead. One group opened a tomb and let out five jangling men and lost half their men. Ended up having to pay out survivors' benefits for that, which was a pretty peg. No, treasure hunting sometimes works, but mostly it's a fool's errand. Better you than me."

"You've never really said what the purpose of your visit is, Baron Daljeel. So far every other noble who has come out here has wanted to speak to the farmers and see to it I'm not turning them into jangling men. Is that your purpose as well?"

"No, this is a social visit, not a magical one. I'm just here to visit you and see how you're getting on and see to it that Folquet isn't running rough-shod over you due to your age. Good man, Folquet, but a bit sharp."

"I've been very satisfied in my dealings with him so far," said Ollivar.

"I imagine. He should probably be a baron himself, but Erol was loathe to elevate a man over just five hundred people. Tax base is too small. He's waiting for the Valley to reach a thousand before he raises someone up. You were an exception, not the rule."

"Ah. I wondered why Folquet hadn't been promoted."

"Well, I'm going to turn in, Baron Teedy. I plan to spend three days here, unless you object, so there'll be time to talk."

"Very good. The bone lords stand guard over my treasury. If you try to break into the treasury they'll break some limbs, and if you try again they'll kill you."

"Fair enough," said the baron. He took the bowl to the cook, who washed everything and told Ollivar that breakfast would be served shortly after sunrise.

"We'll get all those hungry knights properly fed," said the cook as she left the long house. "And that baron, too. He'll have the very best the Valley has to offer, even if he grumbles."

The next day the baron brought some horses, and he and Ollivar rode to the end of the Valley and into the foothills of the mountains. The baron left his knights behind to rest in the long house. There was a surprising lot to speak of, and Ollivar took the opportunity to talk of Hopp's country barons and how they approached their positions.

"Now mind you, I'm not a country baron," said Baron Daljeel, "So I only know what I see. In Hopp country barons tend to stick to countryside, and town barons stick to town, but there are dances and festivals where we all get together, and of course when there are only five of you for company you tend to make the social rounds. There's a lot more fraternizing with the peasantry than there is in a big city like Calivandamar, where there are a hundred barons to socialize with each other, and dukes, and marquises. I regret having to take peasants into my confidences, but what can you do? There are towns across the domain, many of them, where there are single barons, all alone. They rarely get to socialize with their own class, poor things."

"I keep thinking I should visit Hopp more often," said Ollivar. "So far I've only gotten out there every couple of months."

"That may not be an unreasonable number of visits, considering that you have to ride a full day to reach us," said the baron. "Of course, if you marry you'll have the benefit of someone agreeable to talk with, so you won't need other nobles as much as you might now. Folquet should do for company, I suspect, and a steady hand on the plow, as it were. Still, next time you get to Hopp come and visit, my wife and I will put you up in style."

"That sounds most agreeable," said Ollivar, who was curious about what Daljeel thought of as "style." Probably lots of servants and such. Along this line he said, "Scotty tells me that many barons are successful businessmen or plantation owners. Is that you, Baron Daljeel?"

"I own a dozen businesses in Hopp, including two successful pubs," said the baron expansively. "This allows me a certain number of peasants in my employ, and an elevated lifestyle. It's still simple living compared to Calivandamar's barons, but it suffices, it suffices."

Baron Daljeel went on with a lengthy description of country living outside Hopp and how the country barons had to have the toughest knights because they were first in line for invasion by necromancers coming from the barrows.

"Every couple of years we get five hundred bone men coming to Hopp from your lands, Baron Teedy. I don't think the necromancers know Peach Orchard Valley exists, or they'd have wiped it out by now. Of course most necromancers are small fry, barely able to raise a hundred bone men and a handful of janglers, easily put down by a squadron of knights. Hasn't Folquet told you this?"

"Yes, I've heard a hundred stories about necromancers," said Ollivar. "I wonder if there are really as many of them as the tales say?"

"Good question, but it's better to assume their danger than not."

They rode up one of the passes and ran into bone lords and skeleton warriors on patrol.

"Five hundred of these, you say," said the baron thoughtfully. "But bone men are weak, wolves are about all they can handle."

"My skeleton warriors can call to each other if they are attacked, so they can reinforce each other's efforts," said Ollivar.

"Can they? Good show, then. Though it would take hours for them to come from this end of the Valley to the mouth of it. I wonder if my knights really could take five hundred bone men. I think they overestimate their effectiveness. I can summon about two hundred fighting men in a hurry if I have to, common foot soldiers, and they could put down bone men and jangling men alike. I wouldn't want to pitch them against bone lords, though."

The men rode up the pass for an hour and admired the mountains, then they turned around and rode back down Peach Orchard Valley. On the ride back they were quiet, enjoying the day. They stopped and ate lunch, which had been prepared for them by the cook, and then they rode back to the long house. As they approached Ollivar's home the baron began complaining:

"The room is small, Baron Teedy, you really _must_ have larger rooms when you build your castle. No noble wants to be put up in a broom closet. I realize the accommodations here in Peach Orchard Valley are rustic, but there are basic proprieties that should be observed. At least redesign the long house, won't you? The local men are up to the work, I'm certain of it..."

"Baron Daljeel, if you knew you wouldn't like the accommodations, why did you come to visit?"

"Why, to be sociable, of course. Right thing to do, and all that. Can hardly let you hang in the wind all by yourself out here. Need the company of your own kind once in a while, or you'll fall in with the peasants."

Ollivar sighed and led the way back to the long house. As they arrived Scotty was waiting for them. He looked distinctly unhappy, and as they dismounted and handed him the reins of their horses he said, "There's been an incident, Baron Teedy. Something unfortunate happened."

"What was that?" said Ollivar. It had been a pleasant ride with the baron, and he wondered what had happened to muck up his day.

"Deena came down to visit, and the baron's knights took after her. She tried to tell them who she was, but they tried to disrobe her, and she slapped one of them. He broke her arm in return. She's gone to Marjorie de Florin to have it set. The knights finally understood you're courting her, and they're waiting within."

"No, this is no good," said Baron Daljeel. "This man will be punished, Baron Teedy, you have my word on it."

"That won't be necessary, Baron Daljeel," said Ollivar. His blood was boiling, and he pushed into the long house in a fury. Several knights were within in the main room, and Ollivar barked out, "Which knight broke Deena's arm?"

"That would be Lucius," said one of the knights, indicating another knight. "It was just a misunderstand, Baron Teedy. Things got out of hand."

It was indoors, and things were going to get messy, but Ollivar pulled Skyripper from its scabbard and raised it toward the roof. One of the knights said, "Baron Teedy, you don't look as though you know how to use that thing. You shouldn't aim a blade at someone if you don't know how to use it."

Ollivar pointed at the offending knight, and a blue-white bolt of lightning smashed through the roof of the long house and destroyed the knight. Pieces of wood flew everywhere, and many of these were on fire.

"Put out the fires, men," said Baron Daljeel, and the surviving knights stamped out the fires that had flown about the big room of the long house. Ollivar contemplated the cooked corpse of the dead knight.

"So this matter is tidied up," he said. "Let his family sue me, if they dare." He glared at the other knights. One of them said,

"This seems a bit harsh, Baron Teedy."

"Discipline will be maintained," said Ollivar. "Visitors to my lands will behave like gentlemen toward the ladies of the Valley, or they'll feel my displeasure."

"That is some sword you've found for yourself," said Baron Daljeel appreciatively. "Barrows?"

"Your men need tightening up, Baron Daljeel," said Ollivar.

"Yes, well, the offender seems to have paid the ultimate price for his impropriety," said the baron with surprising good humor. "Come, you're not going to keep me in suspense, are you? That is a barrow blade and not something you commissioned, isn't it?"

Ollivar's blood was still heated up, but he gave a curt nod and said, "It lay with the lord I described to you."

"A useful artifact indeed," said the baron. "All right, men, take Lucius out back and give him a proper burial. I'll be out to say words for him momentarily."

The knights picked up the fallen Lucius and disappeared outside with him. Ollivar slid Skyripper back into its scabbard and called out to the cook to bring them dinner, which as it turned out was turkey and carrots and peas.

"You've fed the knights already?" said Ollivar. "I don't want to have to look at them any more."

"Yes, m'lord, the knights have had their supper."

"It's so difficult to find good knights these days," said Baron Daljeel. If he was upset at the loss of one of his knights, such wasn't showing. The baron looked up at the hole in the ceiling. "Didn't hit any of the main support beams, so it won't be too hard to repair," he said. "A day or two of work by a competent carpenter, and the long house will be good as new."

The roof was about four feet over Ollivar's head, and he inspected the damage made by the stroke of lightning. The bolt for some reason hadn't set the roof on fire, but there were glowing embers around the edges of the hole.

"Scotty," he said as the page came back into the big room, "I need you to get a step ladder and put out these embers."

"Yes, m'lord," said the young man, and he hastened to carry out Ollivar's instructions.

The cook set the barons' meals on the table, and the two men sat down to eat.

"I believe I probably owe you something for the dead man," said Ollivar.

"Let's say a hundred gold pieces, and call it even," said the baron. Ollivar went to his treasury and got some money, and he counted out the coins and handed them over.

"It's been years since I saw a good enchanted sword," said the baron. "That was quite impressive, the way the roof just burst apart and the man was struck down just like the wrath of the spirit lords."

"Your men have upset me," said Ollivar.

"Yes, they went too far, no doubt about it."

"You were on good terms with the dead man?"

"He was an employee, Baron Teedy. He stepped out of line and paid a hard price. That is your business, more than it is mine. You were the wronged party."

This makes Ollivar's blood boil all over again. "Too bad you can't kill the same man more than once," he commented.

"That's no good," said the baron. "Be satisfied that he won't transgress against you ever again, and be it at that."

Ollivar had plenty to say about that, but he decided to hold his peace. He'd never killed anyone before, and whenever he thought about it he overheated again. The knights pawing at Deena's clothing enraged him; he was absolutely right to kill the wretched son-of-a-bitch. Maybe he should have killed his accomplices as well, and the other knights for not stopping them. Now they had an example of what happened to would-be rapists in the Valley, under Baron Teedy's watch.

Ollivar finished his dinner with haste and stood up. "I'm going to visit Deena," he said. "You have the run of the long house while I'm away, Baron Daljeel. Anywhere you're not allowed to go, the bone lords will prevent you from going."

"Yes. Peculiar, that. Your bone lords are all over this long house, but they never prevented the girl from being attacked. Why is that?"

"They're rather simple creatures. They respond to weapons being drawn and certain doors being opened, but most things they will let pass. They didn't recognize what was happening to Deena as a problem. I will have to make them more intelligent, in the future."

"Well, I'll go say a few words for the dead knight, I think, Baron Teedy. The others expect it."

"Suit yourself," said Ollivar. He left the long house and made his way to the Flint farm, where he knocked on the door and was let in by Deena's father.

"I heard about what happened," he said to the older man. "I came to see how Deena is doing."

"She's broken up, that knight shattered her arm pretty well. Broke it in at least three places. The bone has been set, but she needs a healer. Otherwise there's a good chance it will heal badly."

"I'll ask Baron Daljeel if he'll send Hopp's healer out to the Valley for a day or two to see to it. I think he'll be amenable. It was his knight who inflicted the wound."

"I hope you've seen to the man's punishment," said K'lockt Flint in an angry voice.

"The man who broke Deena's arm is dead. His behavior was beyond the pale," said Ollivar.

"Ollivar, have you come to see me?" said Deena, who had just entered the room. "I thought I heard your voice."

Ollivar took in her wan face and the arm which was tightly wrapped in bandages and which hung in a sling. He took her arms gently and kissed her with surprising hunger.

"Bold," she said, and behind them her father coughed.

"The knight has paid with his life for his attack," said Ollivar. "And the others now have a better understanding of the behavior I expect of them in the Valley. Perhaps I should have killed all of them, but that seemed excessive."

Deena bowed her head. "They wouldn't listen to me," she said. "I tried to tell them who I was, and they insisted on trying to remove my clothing. My arm hurts like hell, Ollivar. Marjorie gave me herbs, but they only dull the pain somewhat. She said it's going to hurt for weeks. I'm not sure I can stand such pain for weeks on end, I'll go mad."

"I'm going to petition Baron Daljeel to send the healer from Hopp to the Valley to heal your arm," said Ollivar. "I could try it myself, but I have no experience in this type of injury, so odds are I'd make a bad job of it. Anyway, you'll have only a few days of pain to suffer."

"Even that will be bad," she said. "I've heard knights can be rough men, but the ones that were here before weren't so bad. They certainly didn't attack the Valley girls."

"When my new knights arrive I'll impress upon them proper behavior," said Ollivar. "No one will make this mistake in my Valley again."

They talked for a little while longer, and then Ollivar had to take his leave and head back to the long house. When he returned Baron Daljeel was nowhere to be found, and Ollivar figured he had probably turned in after their long ride that day. He went and bathed in the river and then turned in himself, but he slept poorly. When his own knights arrived, what sort of men were they going to be? There weren't going to be discipline problems among _his_ men, he vowed. Proper deportment would be instilled from the moment they arrived. He'd also arrange a demonstration of Skyripper, so the men would have a better understanding of what awaited them if they displeased him.

Every time Ollivar thought of the knights attacking Deena he became enraged all over again. The knights' poor discipline came from Daljeel's attitude, he suspected. The baron didn't care for the "peasants" under his charge, so it was none of his concern if his knights attacked young women. The baron said it was an employee problem, but Ollivar suspected it was laxity by the baron that caused such problems to begin with. He couldn't wait for the man to be gone. He supposed he had expected better behavior from the lords of the land, but they were just as fallible as the young men Ollivar ran around with in Calivandamar. Baron Harding was a fool, and Baron Daljeel was a whiner. Was this the caliber of men who were now his peers?

Finally Ollivar drifted off to sleep, only to dream of his bone lords attacking Hopp and putting the two barons to the sword. It wasn't an unpleasant dream so far as it went, but Ollivar worried once he awoke that this was the road that black necromancers went down, dreaming of murder first and then carrying it out. He wondered if he'd had too much necromancy, if all the evil spells he'd read were exerting an unhealthy influence upon his mind. He wished he had access to a healer to check his soul for stain and to cleanse him if it turned out he was tainted. This brought to mind the lay of the white necromancer, and the healer's betrayal of Stony Brook, and Ollivar once more wondered if this was to be his own fate, on the stake. It would take only a few words from Lord Erol to have him burned, surely that was the easiest thing for all concerned. But Erol seemed steadfast; it was his idiot heir who was making all the noises about necromancy, the ingrate.

The next two days of the baron's visit went with painful slowness. Ollivar slipped away as often as he could to visit Deena, who complained of the pain of her broken arm, and he brought up with Baron Daljeel the subject of sending Hopp's healer to the Valley to see to her injury.

"Well, since it was my knights who inflicted it, I suppose it should be our healer who cures it," said the baron. "I'll send the healer this way once we get back to Hopp. He'll charge me several gold pieces for the service, I'm confident..."

"I'll pay for his services," said Ollivar. "I'm told he's good."

"Yes, he is quite competent. Suitable company for a baron, I think, if not of noble blood himself. Healers have high status everywhere, and usually earned."

Then the baron's visit was over, and he and his knights decamped and left Peach Orchard Valley for home. Scotty arranged for several carpenters to fix the roof of the long house and repair the hole that the stroke of lightning had torn in the ceiling. Several more days passed, then five knights and the healer arrived. Ollivar immediately sent the healer to visit Deena, and the healer cured her broken arm within an hour. She wept at the feeling of being whole again, and the absence of pain, and Ollivar paid the young man five pieces of gold for his services. Ollivar recognized the knights who were with the healer as those under Daljeel's employ, and they gave Ollivar a wide berth, which suited him fine.

While the healer was in the Valley they put him to work on other sick and injured parties; there were perhaps a dozen people needing curing, and the healer saw to them briskly and efficiently. Then the healer departed with the knights back to Hopp, taking a report for Baron Daljeel with him. Ollivar was grateful to the man for healing Deena, but he couldn't help but notice the rumors were true; the young healer was quite arrogant, enough so to make Ollivar have to resist laughing at him. Ollivar didn't care how arrogant the healer was, as long as he healed the citizens of Peach Orchard Valley.

Once the healer and the baron's knights had left for Hopp Ollivar started a new task, that of creating a second skeletal work crew to start working on the wall from the south side. Over the last ten days of Sixer Ollivar raised a hundred skeleton stonemasons and set them to work breaking out blocks of basalt and chiseling it into shape to go into the wall. He bought several wagons and used them to haul stone blocks to the construction site and hired the three blacksmiths of the Valley to make chisels and hammers for the workmen. Now he estimated it would take perhaps two and a half years to construct the wall, a far cry better than the four years he'd originally calculated. He set the skeletons to work and saw the first blocks set into place, then he released the crew to work on their own, with minimal oversight. Now he had two hundred skeletons working on the wall, and he'd oversee their efforts about once a week to make sure they were on the right track and working effectively. The trench was filling with stonework, and the foundations for the wall were well on their way.

While Ollivar saw to the construction of the second work crew for the wall, Scotty hired boys to bring in firewood for the winter. It was the beginnings of autumn, and the days were shortening and growing chillier, especially in the mornings. Cart after cart of hard oak and birch and pine were brought in and stacked; half a dozen cords of wood were laid up in anticipation of winter. Scotty had a small stipend to pay for projects like this and handled everything while Ollivar spent his days among the stone tombs raising the skeletons for his work force. If Ollivar had been inclined he could have raised half a dozen skeletons and seen them to chopping firewood, but he was inclined to pay boys to do it and thus create gainful employment. The woods were alive with the sound of axes, this time of year, as the hundred households of the Valley laid in their winter's supply of firewood. Ollivar approved. A little hard work was good for a man. His father had always insisted that hard work built character. Ollivar wasn't certain this was true, but he did feel that it was good for the spirit.

On the last day of Sixer was the harvest festival. Everyone had been preparing for it for weeks, and Ollivar dressed in his finest clothes and went to where the pavilions were set up along the river to enjoy the day. In style it was much like the summer festival, with games and storytelling and dances and song and a huge tent full of a thousand kinds of foodstuffs that had been contributed by the women of the Valley. Ollivar opened the festivities with a small speech, and while he had everyone's attention he introduced the idea of Bonehaven Town to the people and asked them to think on what they'd like to see in a town and to report their thoughts to Folquet or Scotty or himself. It was to be a small town of about three hundred souls, he said, and was to have professional folk and craftsmen. He was also trying to attract a healer to Peach Orchard Valley, but he didn't know when one would show up; hopefully before the winter sickness came.

He also reported the progress with the new crew working on the wall and that he hoped the wall would be up within two and a half years, which brought a small cheer from the crowd. Families liked to go and watch the skeleton workmen labor on the wall, in no small part because sometimes there were accidents during which skeleton workmen lost an arm, or were entirely crushed, or just their heads were smashed and they continued to try to work without skulls. This provided great amusement for the Valley's people, who traded stories of horrific accidents among the workmen with undisguised glee.

After Ollivar's speech he spent a couple of hours talking with various people from the Valley, discussing Bonehaven Town mostly but also the visit of Baron Daljeel, whom no one seemed to like very much due to his negative comments on the Valley and its residents.

"That Daljeel is a sour old grape," said one aged woman. "Everything is a complaint, with him. And he never says what he means, either. One wonders what he says to Lord Erol about our Valley. Let's hope the Lord knows him and doesn't listen to him."

There were other speeches given by Folquet and Iacopo Grist, one of the merchants to Hopp, discussing the trade with Hopp and Calivandamar and how the bandit raids had lessened since Ollivar had destroyed two groups of bandits. Several lawsuits had been filed in Hopp by the families of dead bandits, but these had gotten nowhere in court, as the judges felt the bandits to be a nuisance and were not to be coddled. It amazed Ollivar that bandits would get a day in court; what of their targets? What of the caravan men who had been slain by bandits in the past? Would their families have recourse to the courts to redress their grievances? Somehow Ollivar thought not.

The problem with criminals is that they were always first to strike and first to retreat, and honest men had to wait until they attacked to do anything about them. The knights of Hopp rode in patrols seeking the bandits, but the bandits were adept at hiding in the hills around Hopp and usually eluded the patrols. Bandits would even attack the knights with crossbows sometimes, killing knights from afar. By the time the knights reached the bandits they had melted away into the hills or retreated into tunnels they had dug. The bandit problem around Hopp had been severe for several years now, and every merchant from the Valley had been robbed at least once. Ollivar's assistance in killing fifty bandits did a lot for decreasing their numbers and put them on the defensive, since they never knew when the baron of Peach Orchard Valley was going to ride forth and paralyze them for the slaughter.

Ollivar wandered around the festival grounds during the rest of the morning and into the afternoon, taking frequent stops at the food tent for sustenance. Harvest was under way, and the fruits of the land were in abundance. Ollivar had roast corn on the cob as a favorite and also enjoyed peaches in cream, all fresh from the farms of the Valley. He sampled half a dozen types of meat and ended up most liking the slow-baked duck and the ham, though the beef and the venison were also excellent. Only the chicken met his disapproval; Ollivar had never much liked chicken, and even the clever Valley ways of cooking this meat didn't recommend it to him.

There were of course alcoholic beverages as well as fruit drinks, and he drank up the peach brandy and blackberry wine and several types of grape wines until he felt himself becoming tipsy and thought it best to abstain from any more drinking. After that it was fruit drinks, like a child. The peach cider tasted like peach brandy anyway, if you got right down to it, and it was the taste that was most important, he decided.

He played toss-the-hoop for a while and didn't win any prizes, as manual dexterity had never been a skill for him, but he had a good time and evoked laughter on the parts of the observers, which he considered a good thing. People were enjoying the festival, and that was what was important.

There was a pavilion filled with animals, especially horses, as all the farmers showed off their prize animals and competed for awards and prizes. Ollivar wondered why this hadn't been part of the summer festival. He patted several gorgeous horses and admired a number of handsome cows, as Folquet did the judging and handed out the prizes. There were of course complaints that Folquet had been paid off to award certain people's animals at the expense of others, but Ollivar thought this highly unlikely. Ollivar was approached by a couple of the sore losers, who wanted him to award the prizes to themselves, but he upheld Folquet's role and insisted the judging was fair and unbiased so far as he could tell.

"Yes, _so far as he could tell_ ," said a plump farmer, whose name Ollivar didn't quite catch. The man was obviously peeved at the award for best pig going to another farmer, and he didn't mind telling the world his displeasure. He was joined by a friend, a tall man, who added,

"Folquet awards his friends, is what I'm seeing. Those who aren't in the inner circle can forget seeing their animal win prizes, even when those animals are clearly the best."

Folquet ignored these comments and continued to hand out awards, and Ollivar was impressed that Folquet seemed to know animals so well. Ollivar had little knowledge of animals, which is why he stayed out of the judging. Some country baron he was, unable to tell a prize horse from a nag. So long as the animal's ribs weren't sticking through, it looked like a fine horse to him. But Folquet checked their legs, their hooves, their mouth, their eyes. He ran his hands through their manes and brushed their coats and looked at how much hair was in the brush. He gave them apples to check their appetites. He risked being kicked and ran his hands through their tails. He was thorough, and when he awarded a gold prize the owner was always pleased. A silver prize was also coveted, and even the copper prizes were appreciated. There were more than twenty horses in the horse competition, and Folquet checked them all and awarded the prizes and put up with the scorn of the losers and the pleasure of the winners.

Ollivar wandered back to the food tent and loaded up with baked duck, so succulent and tender that his mouth watered with every bite, and buttered carrots juicy with flavor. There was chocolate cake to go along with this, so good that Ollivar took two pieces so he could savor them longer. The women handing out the portions were in a competition of their own, commenting on which were popular dishes and which weren't and whose food had already been eaten up.

"Delicious, goodwives," he said to them, and they smiled at him and complimented his choices. One of them said,

"Goodwife Shreedy baked that chocolate cake, Baron Teedy, she'll be pleased to know you think so highly of it."

"My favorite so far," said Ollivar, and the women laughed.

Ollivar went to the storytelling tent and listened to the same tales he'd heard during the summer festival, told by storytellers of all ages. This time there was a child of about eight years old telling the tale of the Winter's War; Ollivar listened with interest as this boy rolled out the familiar words and acted out the parts in the story. In the end Ollivar clapped as hard as everyone else, as the boy had remembered the story very well and told it in a lively and engaging way. The boy bowed and took a break and prepared to tell it again to the next wave of listeners who came into the storytelling pavilion.

Ollivar came upon the schoolteachers for Peach Orchard Valley, who were discussing their students with those students' parents. He had met with the schoolteachers not long after coming to the Valley, as they were petitioning for higher pay, which he granted them for their good work. Now he listened as they talked about their pupils and the lessons they were teaching.

"Baron Teedy," said one of them, nodding at Ollivar, "Has granted us more funds, so this year we will have improved texts and new furnishings for our schoolrooms. A map of Swan Domain will be in each classroom, and we'll have a map of the whole continent in the room for advanced students. And we'll have books of popular stories this year, as well. Good for the little ones to have culture."

Ollivar had discussed the school with Folquet, who felt the Valley's three room schoolhouse was adequate to the Valley's needs at this time. There were about sixty students in the school, divided into three classrooms, with the three teachers teaching two years' worth of students each. If the Valley were wealthier Ollivar would have preferred to have one teacher for each of the six years of instruction, but as it was the teachers were supported by a special tax, and the Valley people had told Folquet they would not support six teachers for their students. Ollivar wondered if he could support an additional three teachers through barrow treasure, but he didn't want to expend his barrow gold on improving services that were already adequate. It was something to think on, anyway. If only there was more money; would that always be the refrain?

Citizens of the Valley came up to Ollivar to discuss all kinds of situations: land disputes, children attacking other children, animal disputes, the skeleton warriors and bone lords that patrolled the Valley. No one was pleased with the latter. People were nervous about the skeleton warrior patrols that surrounded the Valley. Even though there had been no incidents, opinion was that it was just a matter of time until the "bone men" killed someone by mistake. Couldn't Ollivar take away the "bone men" and hire knights instead? It was an expense, but it was better to have live men patrolling the Valley rather than the skeleton warriors. Or maybe leave the skeletons patrolling the mountain passes but put knights patrolling the Valley itself. Ollivar promised that he would eventually receive knights and that they would be on patrol duty in the Valley and that he'd move the skeleton warriors to patrolling the mountains and the barrows. As it was he had several hundred skeletons on barrow patrol, since that was the direction of the most danger, with necromancers liable to come out of the barrows at any time. But the skeleton warriors were going to stay, he told the disappointed people, and they were going to be a vital part of the Valley's defenses. In a few years the wall would be completed, and they would walk the wall and guard the Valley in that fashion.

The day passed most pleasantly, with Ollivar eating and drinking far too much and enjoying every minute. He had conversations with Folquet and Iacopo Grist, the merchant to Hopp, and he went to listen to Alain de Greyhaven sing songs and play the flute and a small set of drums. This time there were other musicians as well, playing and singing and carrying on, and Ollivar stayed in their pavilion for more than an hour, listening to songs he knew from Calivandamar. Something in the music got Ollivar thinking of his mother and little sister, and he hoped they were attending the harvest festival in the city and were enjoying themselves. He would send them a letter with the next caravan Folquet led to Calivandamar, but this always felt inadequate. He would rather be able to travel back to the city every month, but this was impractical. A visit every other month would have to suffice, instead.

At the end of the day Ollivar went to the dances, where he found Deena talking with her friends.

"Dance with me, pretty girl?" he begged, and she laughed and gave him the pleasure of dance after dance. The musicians were favoring quick-step dances, and Ollivar stepped lively and acquitted himself rather well, he thought.

"How is your arm?" he asked her at one point, and she said,

"It feels fine. The healer was quite skilled, or at least skilled enough."

"I keep hoping a healer will answer my summons to the Valley, but so far we haven't heard even a whisper."

"Don't despair, Ollivar. There are many towns clamoring for a healer, and few healers graduating every year. Did you offer a generous salary?"

"Yes, eight gold a month to a newly-graduated healer, thirteen a month to someone established. It'll be coming out of the barrow gold, I'm afraid."

"I wish you didn't have to scrounge around in the barrows. Dangerous work, that."

"I wish I knew where the special tombs lay, the rich ones," he said. "I would bypass all the regular tombs and raid only the richest ones."

"The ones with soul screamers in them," Deena said disapprovingly.

Ollivar nodded. "No more soul screamers for me. Learned my lesson, with that one."

"Oh, listen, they're changing to a slow dance. Care to dance, Baron Teedy?"

"Of course!" He led Deena into the dance pavilion and held her close and swayed as the musicians rolled out their tune. She smelled good, of a light perfume and a little sweat, and he found his hand on her back was grasping her perhaps a little more tightly than the dance warranted. Deena was wearing a peach-colored dress and a necklace of small, irregular pearls, which must have been a family heirloom. Her hair was long and wavy, and Ollivar could smell the scent of rose petals from it. Her cheeks were rosy from the dances, and Ollivar laid his cheek to hers and moved her around the dance area and hummed to himself and to her.

"Timmorn asked me a peculiar question today," she said.

"Oh? What was that?"

"He was looking at the bone men on patrol and asked where their flesh was. He thought they had hung their flesh up somewhere while their bones went on patrol. He asked me who they were when they were men."

"An intelligent question," Ollivar said. "Bones have to come from someone. So what did you tell him?"

"I told him that they were barrow bones and were the ancestors of the first people in the land. They had no more flesh, they were all dead people."

"How did he accept that?"

"Not well. He said he didn't like dead people watching him all the time. He said the dead shouldn't be up and walking about."

"Usually he'd be right. Sometimes I have to wonder about using the skeleton warriors for defense of the Valley, when everyone dislikes them so. People will appreciate them more once they've defended us from some necromancer, or a pack of wolves."

"Winter is coming, and the wolves will swoop down into the Valley. Your bone men will have the chance to prove themselves then."

"I'm surprised no necromancers have shown themselves this year. Folquet told me that there are several of them every year, mucking about in the barrows and moving against the Valley."

"Doubtless they've heard about you and consider the Valley to be your concern."

"You mean they're waiting for me to go sour and kill everyone."

"Yes, I suppose that's what they're waiting for."

"Well, if it gives us a reprieve from their attacks, I guess I don't care what they're thinking."

The song came to an end, and Ollivar released Deena. They'd been dancing for three hours, mostly fast songs, and Deena looked a bit tired.

"Had enough?" he asked her.

"Yes, I think that's all the dancing I care to do for right now," she said.

"Then I'll let you go. I'm about done myself, it's been an excellent day but long. One more trip to the food tent, then I'm going back to the long house."

"Thanks for the dances, Ollivar. You're getting better."

"That may not be saying much," he said, and she chuckled.

Ollivar took his leave of her and returned to the food tent for the twentieth time that day. The duck was all gone, and the ham was also gone, but there was still a little venison sausage, and he had some of that, and a cob of roast corn. The chocolate cake was also long gone, but there was fruit cake, and he had some of that, washed down with grape wine. He sat down at the tables provided and ate, savoring the venison and munching contentedly on the corn on the cob. They certainly did know how to cook, in the Valley!

After finishing his last meal of the day Ollivar left the celebration and walked home to the long house. Scotty and the cook were at the festival, and the long house was quiet. The bone lords turned their heads as he came in, by way of greeting, and he went to his room and stripped off his clothes and went to bed. All in all a superb day, very satisfying. The dances with Deena were the best part of the day, even better than discussing Bonehaven Town with the people of the Valley. He remembered her scent and thought, _I must get her the silver necklace, and the circle of flowers._ He didn't want this to stretch out for a long time, this courtship. He knew what he wanted. She was willing, so it was a matter of forging ahead. He was pretty certain she would accept his gifts, so why wait? He determined to send to Hopp for a beautiful silver necklace, preferably something fashioned specifically for Deena. Custom work. Costly, but worth it.

For no good reason Ollivar remembered the knight he killed, the one who broke Deena's arm, and he wondered what the man had been like when he was live. He was certain he had done the right thing in killing the man, but still... He remembered the stroke of lightning bursting through the roof and cooking the knight, killing him instantly. The looks of surprise on the faces of the other knights, the fear there. No, outsiders would not be coming to the Valley to prey on its women. Not so long as Ollivar was in charge of the place.

Finally Ollivar fell off and slept without dreams.

The month of Sevener came to pass, and Ollivar gave some thought to the school of magic he'd like to sponsor. He'd thought about this off and on since coming to the Valley, a formal school where students were trained to white necromancy. They could learn to raise skeleton warriors and bone lords and skeleton workmen, as Ollivar himself had done, and they could be trained to fight black necromancy and its practitioners. Each student would carve him or her self a control cube to fight with and to focus his or her energies for battle. The school would be open to young women as well as young men, based on aptitude.

The question was, did he build the school as a separate place, or did he conduct classes in the castle? If he built the school as a separate place, there would have to be enough students to justify the building. He didn't see that happening. He thought there would be a small number of students, so setting aside a few rooms in the castle should suffice.

The problem with necromancy was, there were so many attractive and interesting spells, but they were all based on wicked magic. Calling up the dead to speak with them required bones from a living person, preferably fingers cut off the living. Ollivar was curious but not so curious as to want to mutilate someone just to talk to the ancestors. He supposed he could sever the fingers of a convicted criminal. Lord Erol would probably authorize such experiments, but the problem was that the spell depended on evil magic, and using it would taint the soul of the caster.

There were several spells for dealing with ghosts. There was a spell to create a ghost from the soul of a dead person and set it to haunting a specific place, and there was a spell to put ghosts to rest. There were spells for finding ghosts in graveyards and old ruins and spells to allow you to speak to a ghost that was otherwise mute. These weren't so tainted as other necromancy; they required the blood of animals, usually a dog or cat but didn't require human sacrifice. Ollivar thought he could rewrite these spells to be clean, if he had sufficient motivation to do so. No one had said anything about ghosts in the Valley, so he didn't think of this kind of magic very often.

Then there was the master spell of necromantic magic, entitled _Iron Jar._ The necromancer cut his own heart out and placed it into an iron jar and wound the jar about with spells to keep the heart alive. He then hid the jar somewhere safe. After that his body was unkillable. You could behead it, and the arms would place the head back on the shoulders, and it would be whole again. You could burn it, and the flames would leave the flesh unconsumed. Chopping the body into small bits was about the only way to deal with such a necromancer, and even then the pieces would seek each other to re-knit into a whole necromancer once more. There had only been a handful of necromancers in all history who had learned the secret of the _Iron Jar._ They had all become powerful sorcerers and had killed hundreds of thousands of people in their great evil. The spell required the sacrifice of a dozen young children to carry out. Ollivar's book of necromancy hadn't had the _Iron Jar_ spell in it, but it had a summary of the spell. It was the single most wicked spell known, and black necromancers were always seeking it. The lords of hell wrote only a few copies of this spell each century, rumor said, and they hid them away in the darkest of evil dens. Only the most powerful of necromancers could even understand the spell, much less cast it. Ollivar could see the value of such magic but knew it was too tainted to rewrite, so what was its value?

Necromancy was madness. Casting the spells tainted the soul and drove one mad, and in one's madness the magic slipped away and one became feebleminded. No telling how many madmen were failed necromancers. In Hawk Domain madmen of all kinds were fired on the stake, and Ollivar had heard they did the same thing in Sandpiper Domain as well, on general principles. Ollivar had read descriptions of necromancers, and excerpts from their own diaries, but still he had a very hard time understanding the urges that drove black necromancers on. They seemed to be motivated by hatred of life itself. They worshipped destruction and wrapped themselves in malice. Greed motivated only the rare member of the class; most were paupers in life and in death. Necromancers preached annihilation of the soul and reveled in worshipping demons and devils and were encouraged by their patrons to acts of wanton death and destruction. At the end of the day Ollivar simply had to admit that he didn't understand the hate black necromancers bore for every living thing. It was enough that all rational people were the enemies of such beings.

The patrons for necromancers were the devils and demons of hell itself. Many such spirits existed who knew necromancy and caused its precepts to be written into the unholy books of black magic. Usually when a necromancer was killed his patron took his soul down to hell and turned it into a minor demon all its own, and the cycle was perpetuated. Thus necromancy was ever-refreshing in its evil.

Ollivar walked around the long house, thinking on necromancy and pondering what he had gotten himself into. People hated necromancers, hated them on general principles and hated them for the murders they wrought. And yet for every necromancer there were a dozen people who would assist the necromancer in his goals. People who didn't want to be necromancers themselves but wanted to see the murders and destruction brought about. Ollivar shook his head. Necromancy was a sickness, a sickness of the spirit and of the heart. White necromancy only side-stepped the hard questions of the occupation by picking up on the least spells of the profession and rendering them clean. Ollivar wasn't sure anymore why he had chosen necromancy for his profession. Something different, something unusual. Maybe Folquet was right, and it would be best to give up the necromancy and hold onto his noble title and make something of that. But he could achieve much with this magic, that was the thing. He could hold the people of Peach Orchard Valley safe with his magic, and he could do healing with it as well, healing of the most difficult cases of shattered bones. It was limited healing, but he'd already proven its efficacy with Lord Erol's ingrate of an heir.

Ollivar went into his room and picked up the golden mask from the lord's tomb and ran his fingers over the smooth metal. No. He was going to stick with white necromancy for the time being. Maybe as Lord Erol grew older and Ollivar lost his support, he'd give up the necromancy, but for now he was keeping it. There was too much to accomplish with it, too much good to be done in the meantime. He would make alliances with other noble houses and would ensure his support for the future. He could raise a school of white necromancy and teach others the best parts of the magic. He had the chance to do something good here, and he was going to take it.

These thoughts occupied Ollivar for several days, from time to time, as he pondered the fate of Stony Brook. But the lay of the white necromancer held no lessons for Ollivar, nothing he could hold on to as he made his own way forward. Stony Brook was betrayed by a healer, but that was not to say the same thing would happen again. It was more likely Lord Erol's heir would see to Ollivar's destruction himself. Ollivar wondered how tight the father's leash was on the son. The heir wouldn't have any real power for a decade or more, but the boy was such a reactionary thinker that it was hard to imagine him changing his tune over time. Would a decade be enough time for Ollivar to change his opinion? He doubted it. He would just have to wish Lord Erol a long and healthy life, and do the best he could. Alliances with the other nobles would help. Being _known_ would help. He'd have to get Alain to write him a lay of his own, something flattering that would change people's opinions of him. Stony Brook's song was popular, and the original white necromancer had wide support. Was it time for another white necromancer to rise to the front?

The days of Sevener passed slowly by, and the days grew chillier, and on the tenth of the month there was a light dusting of snow blown in from the mountains. Ollivar wondered at this. It was a whole month earlier than snow in Calivandamar. It was the first snow of the season, and there was much comment on what sort of winter this year would bring. Harvest was in, and the homesteads of the Valley were prepared for winter's grip. The caravans were going out one or two more times, then they would be done for the winter. Everyone was getting in their final orders of the year.

School started up again, and every morning Ollivar saw children leaving the nearest farmsteads and heading for the schoolhouse, their packets of books in hand or slung over their shoulders. He wondered how the smallest children made the journey when winter was full-on and supposed the school wasn't open during the worst snowy days. Winters weren't that rough in Calivandamar, but Ollivar supposed that here in the bosom of the mountains winters were harsher and brought much more snow than he had experienced in the city. He asked Scotty at this and was surprised at the answer:

"Winters aren't so bad here in the Valley, Baron Teedy. Most of the snow falls on the west side of the mountains, not here on the east side. We get snow earlier than most of Swan Domain, and it's deeper and longer-lasting, but not too much so. When there are snowstorms school is cancelled, and the caravans only go when the snowfall is light. Bandits don't tend to go out in winter, because they can be followed by their tracks. If you're worried that we're going to be buried in snow, don't fret. Six feet of it at worst, in a really rough winter, and a nice blanket of it to play in all winter is how it usually goes. This little dusting we had today will melt off in a few days, but in a few weeks it'll stick."

Ollivar wasn't so much worried about the snow, but about the winter sickness, which always arrived when the first snows fell. A few days passed, and there was no report of illness in the Valley beyond a few colds, and Ollivar hoped the winter sickness would stay away until the first hard snowfall of the year. The illness struck the very young and the very old the hardest. Babies died of it and old people died of it, and everyone else became sick.

Then on the fifteenth of Sevener, as the frost was staying more or less permanently on the ground, a healer arrived in Peach Orchard Valley. Ollivar had heard that angels like their healers attractive, and this one was a tall beauty who was a delight to the eye. She had long black hair that was braided all the way down to her waist. She was young, not older than twenty, and came into the Valley with Iacopo Grist's caravan on a gray horse of her own. The skeleton warrior patrol as they always did met the caravan as it came across the hills, and Ollivar noted the newcomer with the Valley men and thought at first she must be a troubadour, though she had no instruments visible. It didn't occur to him until his bone lord saw the little angel necklace around her throat that she was a healer. Then he was quite excited.

"Cook! We have company, two hours away. A healer! Cook something fine for her. Scotty, make sure a room is prepared for her."

Ollivar immediately began thinking of a permanent house for her. For now she could stay in the long house, but she would need her own quarters eventually. She came at a bad time; construction was over for the year, so they couldn't build her new quarters now. She'd just have to put up with the long house, or perhaps rent an outbuilding from a farmer if that was acceptable to her. That was assuming she was answering Ollivar's call for a healer, of course. She might be a newly-minted healer merely making the rounds, coming to see if the Valley had the winter's sickness yet and to cure the sick if they did. So Ollivar felt the bite of anxiety as he waited for the caravan to come into the Valley and announce its guest. Scotty saw to it that the best guest room was made ready and a fire lit in the fireplace, and the cook saw to it that ham was prepared and sweet potatoes baked.

After Scotty prepared the guest room Ollivar saw to it he was fed supper and then dismissed for the evening. He wanted the healer all to himself this first night.

At last the caravan arrived, and there was a knock at the door. Ollivar answered it himself. From the other side of the doorway, Iacopo Grist nodded at him.

"The healer has arrived, m'lord," he said. "Her name is Star. She is a new graduate of the healer's academy in Calivandamar and is responding to your call." Iacopo leaned close to Ollivar. "She's right behind me, Baron Teedy. Let me just say she keeps to herself, or at least she doesn't talk to the likes of me."

Ollivar nodded in return. "Thank you for bringing her in, caravan master. I trust your journey went well?"

"Oh, the usual sharp trading with the merchants of Hopp, nothing unexpected. Everyone says this is going to be a hard winter, so I'm trying to pack away all the trinkets I can before the Valley is snowed in."

"Well, show in our guest, let's not keep her waiting."

Iacopo went back out for a moment, then the tall woman Ollivar had seen through the eyes of his bone lord swept into the room. _She'd be prettier if she weren't so severe,_ Ollivar thought right off, but he of course kept this to himself.

"Well," she said in a melodious voice. "You must be the famous Baron Teedy, the new white necromancer everyone is speaking of. Your healing of Lord Erol's heir is becoming the stuff of legends already, and your bone men are known from one end of the domain to the other, so I'm told."

"You came in answer to my call for a healer?" said Ollivar.

"Yes. I graduated from the academy at the end of summer and have been enjoying myself in the capital. I was intrigued by the call and thought I would come and see what was in the offing. Thirteen gold a month is an appreciable offer."

"Actually it was eight a month to a newly-graduated healer, lady Star," Ollivar said.

"Not if you expect me to live at the end of the road, Baron Teedy," said the healer. "I'll settle for twelve a month, but not a peg less. I'll need to send away to Hopp and the capital for nice things, and that will take funds. I don't expect you to make up your mind right away. I'll stay here a few days and see if there are any matters here requiring my attention, and we can talk, and you can decide what having a healer in this place is really worth to you."

"Yes. Well. What about my call was intriguing to you?"

"The song of the white necromancer comes to mind. How Stony Brook was betrayed by a healer, and the chance to set things to rights. Besides, people will be coming to Peach Orchard Valley come spring time. Minstrels, and adventurers, and probably necromancers as well. Perhaps I'll have the chance to fight the powers of hell for myself, before much more time has passed." She said this last with a certain relish, and at that moment Ollivar saw in her something of a warrior.

"We've seen no necromancers this year, I'm told it's because they think I'm going to steal their thunder," said Ollivar. "Everyone is waiting for me to go sour and slaughter the people of the Valley. So the other necromancers are giving me pride of place."

She laughed. "Yes, that's the talk, isn't it? I look forward to all these visitors coming here and bringing their tales with them. If you decide to keep me on, of course."

At this point the cook came into the main room with meals for both of them, and they retired to the table. For a while there was no sound other than eating. Then Star said,

"Excellent food, you have a good cook, Baron Teedy."

"Yes, she makes my life more livable," said Ollivar.

"You've taken the caravan yourself, of course, so you know how one develops a hearty appetite after a day of bouncing around on a horse's back. I was taught to ride as a girl, of course, but it's been several years since I've taken any real journeys on horseback."

"Yes, it's a bit unsettling, isn't it?" said Ollivar. "I had a good horse, too. But you're right, you develop a huge appetite after a long day in the saddle."

"This is honeyed ham. Local honey?"

"Yes. We have half a dozen beekeepers here in the Valley. They export to Hopp, as well."

"I see."

"So tell me a little about yourself," Ollivar said. He was excited by Star's arrival in the Valley, bringing in a healer had seemed like a fantasy until she actually showed up on his doorstep. Even if he ended up paying her the twelve gold a month, a healer would be worth it.

"My full name is Star Gourovian, of the Gourovian family in the capital. I was born to a baron in Calivandamar and have had a life of ease and privilege," she said. "When I was eleven years old I became deathly ill, and my family was giving me up for lost when the angel Rachmiel appeared to me and cured me of my sickness. Three years later, when I went through the woman's change, the angel reappeared to me and asked if I would now serve him as a healer. My family sent me to the healer's academy, where I've been for the last six years, learning my trade. I specialize in illnesses of expecting mothers and children, but of course I can perform general curing and healing as well."

"Glad to hear it," said Ollivar. "Every few years the Valley loses a woman in childbirth, despite the efforts of the midwives here. We'll be glad for your expertise. This is a farming community, so there are a lot of accidents and misfortunes that befall the farmers: they work with sharp instruments, and all that. Right now I'm most worried about the winter sickness. It's due to start soon, and every year we lose a few children and aged people to it. I don't like losing my citizens, when it's preventable."

"Yes, the caravan master was saying something about the winter sickness. I can cure that, of course; we have to take a special course specifically on that illness, and I excelled in my courses. I'm told I have quite a gift for healing, but of course it's all due to Rachmiel."

"Of course," Ollivar said. "And now for me. I am Ollivar Teedy, born to a soldier and a seamstress. My father died in the Winter's War, and now it's just me and my mother and my little sister, Jenet. I have enjoyed no privileges and came onto my title in the way you know. I am learning how to be a noble as I go along. I am courting a delightful woman of the Valley here, who brings me great joy. Her arm was broken by an errant knight bent on rapine, and I killed the knight in return. The healer from Hopp came and attended to her arm, for which he has my eternal gratitude. I have plans to build a small town here in the Valley, of about three hundred souls. I also plan to build a castle as soon as I have the funds together. You probably noticed the construction of the wall as you came into the Valley; that will be done in about three years, and we will be much safer. I have five hundred citizens under my shield, and I get the bulk of my monies by raiding the barrows and risking the wrath of the walking dead. I am a white necromancer, and I have no patron, demonic or angelic or elemental. I command five hundred skeleton warriors and bone lords which I deploy for defense of the Valley. I am determined to plot my own course in life. I have the ear of Lord Erol, who takes an interest in my affairs because of the peculiarity of a white necromancer. I want to make improvements to the Valley, like hiring more teachers, but of course all that takes money, which is in short supply."

"Money... Most nobles, as you might know, invest in a number of businesses and professionals to increase their income. The tax base alone doesn't provide very much, because Swan Domain has low taxes compared to other domains. You might think of making investments in the businesses that come into this town of yours, Baron Teedy."

"I know little of investing, but if you decide to stay perhaps you can teach me a little?"

"Perhaps. I certainly learned of these matters, growing up. My father felt his girls should know how to be nobles as well as the boys. His education was invaluable."

"Excellent. For the time being I thought you could stay here in the long house, as winter is coming on and the long house is set up for guests. I'm not expecting any other visitors to come between now and spring time. If you'd prefer we can set you up with a farm family, in a guest room or an outbuilding. We'd be glad to have you here in the long house. In addition to the cook there's my page, Scotty, whom you haven't met yet. That's the three of us who are permanent residents here."

"This seems like a good place to start," said Star. "Perhaps I'll move into a guest room later in the winter, but for now I'd like to stay here."

"Done, then."

"I must admit, Baron Teedy, that I didn't know what to expect of you when I decided to look into this position. I thought you might have demonic patronage, and that would make things impossible between us. To be honest I think you are mad to go without any patronage at all; surely there's an angel who would have you, with your skills at healing?"

"Don't want an angel," said Ollivar. "If you stay on here, yours will be the angel of the Valley. Plus, my lady has an angelic patron."

"I'll be pleased to meet her, then, and we can talk about the pleasures of divine patronage."

The conversation turned to matters of the capital, and Star gave the latest news to Ollivar. Most of it concerned the nobility of Calivandamar, whom Ollivar didn't know, but she knew it in detail, and he soaked it up. She seemed to know every baron and earl in the capital at some length and delighted in their marriages and quarrels and lawsuits, especially lawsuits. From her way of telling it, filing lawsuits against each other was a major form of recreation for the nobles of Calivandamar, and there were always several dozen lawsuits wending their way through the courts. In this way the nobles established their pecking orders and worked out their grievances against one another, which appeared to be many. This made Ollivar wonder why none of the barons of Hopp had yet sued himself, or were small-town nobles made of different stuff than big city nobility?

"The barons of Hopp have come to visit me here in the Valley," said Ollivar. "The only lawsuit which has come to my attention out here is that the family of the knight I killed may decide to sue me for loss of income from their son, and a death penalty. I tend to think the courts will find I was in the right, but when you're a white necromancer people hold peculiar grudges against you, and there's no telling how the courts would rule."

"There's no telling how he courts will rule against _anyone_ ," said Star. "Judges are capricious at best, and beset with personal quirks and vague ideological motives that influence their rulings. My family was sued several times when I was growing up, for various things, and we won some cases and lost some cases. The judiciary is immensely powerful and answers only to Lord Erol, so they can get away with just about anything they wish."

"Save me from lawsuits, then," said Ollivar.

"I'm sorry to be a wilting violet, Baron Teedy, but it was a long ride to the Valley today, and this excellent food has settled in my belly and is bringing on sleepiness. Perhaps you can show me to my room now, and I'll turn in."

"Of course. Scotty has made a fire in your room, so you can just throw a few logs on that and heat the place up again. We have accoutrements for taking a bath here in the long house, but at this time of year most people still use the river for bathing. In a few weeks it'll be too cold for that, though."

"Lead on," Star said, and Ollivar got up from the table and led Star to her guest room. It was a comfortable room, nearly as large as Ollivar's own room, and the fire had burned down to a warm bed of coals in the fireplace.

"Scotty will be back in the morning, you have only to ask him for anything you need, or let me know, and I'll see it done," said Ollivar.

"What a gentleman," said Star. "This will be adequate. I didn't bring very much with me, the caravan master has my small trunk of clothing and personal effects. I can go collect that from him in the morning. I'd go take a bath, but I'm too tired to make the effort. So I guess I go to bed dusty for now."

"As you wish. See you in the morning."

"Good night."

Ollivar withdrew from the guest room and went back to the kitchen, where he cut off some more ham and pulled another baked sweet potato out of the oven and sat down to eat. He almost always had a hearty appetite himself, it was probably due to his age. He thought over all that Star had told him about herself and her news of the capital and reflected that she was a hard person to like, but you could respect her. She was a touch arrogant and always spoke highly of herself, which was somewhat annoying, but if that was the worst of her he could easily tolerate these foibles. In the morning he would ask Scotty about sick and injured people in the Valley and set the healer to seeing to them. Might as well see her off to work right away and get a feel for how she would acclimatize herself to Valley living. He had no doubt he would keep her on if she was competent. Months had passed since he had put out his call, and she was the only healer to brave his reputation and come to the Valley to see him. She had courage, and perhaps a little interest in working for a famous baron. It didn't hurt that she was a beauty as well; she would be popular with the men of the Valley, he was confident. Maybe too popular. She was young and unmarried, and if she wished she would be neck deep in suitors in no time. As to her twelve gold a month, well, Ollivar had known he'd have to pay for a healer. This was a lot of money, but he had it, and he wanted to provide a healer's services for the people of the Valley.

He finished his ham and sweet potato and cleaned up the dishes and put them away, then he turned in himself. It had been an exciting day, and he found he was more weary than he thought he'd be when his head hit the pillow. A healer come, at last! And just in time for the winter sickness, all the better. Maybe this year the Valley wouldn't lose anyone to that miserable illness. Folquet said he'd been trying to attract a healer to the Valley for decades, but no one wanted to move out here. Healers tended to congregate in the bigger cities, he had heard, and not so much in the small farming communities. Where they were probably needed most. People loved their small communities, but it was hard to attract professionals to them, it seemed.

Ollivar dropped off to sleep almost right away and slept until sunup. The sun this time of year was weak, but Ollivar was used to rising at dawn and got up as soon as the light came in his window. He rose and dressed and lit a small fire in his fireplace, to keep his room warm all day, then he went out and had hot peach oat mash that the cook had ready for him. The fruity oat mash was excellent, and the cook set aside a portion for Star, who had not yet risen.

"Scotty, I want you go to into the Valley today and find sick and wounded citizens," Ollivar said to the young man as he ate breakfast. "I want to give Star something to do, to see how she performs."

"I can already think of some farmers who were injured during harvest and who still haven't recovered," said Scotty. "And the winter sickness is already here. There are several children whose parents at first thought they had mere colds but now think their children have the winter sickness."

"Excellent, that will give her something to do for the day. Still, go out and search out more sick and injured. I want her to have several days worth of work."

"I shall," said Scotty. "Folquet Meridian has a nasty cough himself, and he'd appreciate a healer's call. By now he must know there's a healer in the Valley."

"Add him to the roster, then. I'll ask her to look at Deena's arm, too, to make sure the healer from Hopp did a good job of it."

Scotty gave him a list of names of the sick and injured, and then he put on his winter coat and went out into the cold air to hunt up more. Ollivar watched him stamp off into the Valley, and then he went and added a small log to the fire in the main room of the long house.

The cook came into the big room, where Ollivar was seated at a cushioned chair enjoying the fire. She eyed him up and said:

"My joints have been sore for years now. If the healer could do something about that, I'd be much obliged."

"I'll ask her to have a look, then," said Ollivar. "Do you know of any other people who could use a healer's touch?"

"Several," said the cook, and she named some people Ollivar had only heard of, never met before, himself. "All these are old people with the complaints of old age, but those complaints are as real as winter sickness," sniffed the cook.

Ollivar agreed. "Yes, she says she is good at general curing and all-around ailments. We'll toss her these complaints and see how she makes out."

The cook nodded and went back in to the kitchen, where she busied herself with the beginnings of lunch. In a little while Iacopo Grist came to the long house with a good-sized trunk carried between two men. He also had a bag of books for Ollivar, from the Hopp book exchange. Ollivar took the books gladly and directed the men with the trunk to set it down outside the guest room, so he wouldn't have to drag it too far when Star woke up.

"She's not a very friendly person," complained Iacopo, nodding at the door of the guest room. "She listened to my stories coming in, and asked not a question except about you, m'lord. She was powerfully curious about you. Everything else, the people of the Valley and our ailments and conditions, seemed to not interest her in the slightest. If you want my opinion, she's too chilly for the Valley. We like personable people here, Baron Teedy."

"It's hard for beggars to be choosers, Goodman Grist," said Ollivar. "We've had no other respondents to my call for a healer. If she's competent, and we're to find that out forthwith, she'll probably be staying."

"She's a pretty thing, but cold. Wouldn't want a cold heart healing my children, that's a fact."

"You might feel differently if they were to contract the winter sickness," said Ollivar.

"You don't contract the winter sickness unless you go out too much in the snow," said Iacopo. "It's snow that gives that disease. Something in the snow, or occurring with the snow, brings it on. I let mine play in the snow a moderate amount, and they've never caught winter sickness. It's always the little ones that are out in it all hours of the day and night, who catch it."

"I'll ask her about that," said Ollivar. "That's good to know."

"Well, that's her trunk and your books, you owe me twenty coppers for the service and one gold for the books. Bookmakers get more expensive every year, their guild is expansive and growing. It's the education, having a market for all those children's books makes them fat and happy. They turn little ones into readers, and those people continue to read as they get older. It's harmless, but it sure puts the bookmakers in the fat."

Ollivar chuckled. "I reckon I learned to love reading in school, that's true in my case," he said. "A habit that's stuck with me. Now I read for pure pleasure, all sorts of fanciful tales."

"Be careful of that, Baron Teedy, too much reading makes a man slothful."

"Thanks for bringing the things, Goodman Grist," said Ollivar. He dug around in his pouch and counted out the coins and handed them over. Iacopo took the money and cocked his hat and left with the two men who had brought the trunk.

A little while later Star came out into the main room, dressed in a bright yellow winter dress. She looked sleepy and unaffected and was even prettier than she had looked the day before, Ollivar noted. If he hadn't already been involved with Deena, he would have been responding to this healer.

"I have Scotty going into the Valley, looking for the sick and injured," Ollivar told her. "We have several children who seem to have winter sickness, and there are a number of farmers who were injured during harvest who could use your services."

"Very well," she said. "It would be good to show everyone how valuable a healer can be, if they don't already know. I'd like to go out into the barrows one of these days, Baron Teedy, and do a little treasure hunting, or watch you while you open some mounds. I have to admit to a powerful curiosity about the barrows."

"Everyone is curious about the barrows," said Ollivar. "I can take you out there in a few days, before the next snowfall, and open a mound and take a look."

"That sounds satisfactory." Star sat down at the table to eat, and the cook came bustling out of the kitchen with fresh peach oat mash for her, and a little cream.

After breakfast Ollivar took Star to some of the farms Scotty had indicated, and she healed some nasty injuries that had occurred during harvest. There was a long scythe gash, and a broken leg from a misfallen sledge hammer, and a burned arm that was healing badly. There were a dozen minor wounds, just typical farm injuries, and Star healed these supplicants as well. Ollivar led Star to the farmsteads where the sick children lived, and she took her time and was careful in her healing in these places. She placed her ear on the children's chests and listened to them breathe, and smelled their breath, and she took their hands in hers and did a long chant. Then she drew the magic symbols on the floor and summoned minor angels sent by her patron to perform healing, and cured the children of the winter sickness. The Valley people were extremely curious about all of this and asked Star a thousand questions, which she fielded coolly. Ollivar himself was also curious about the healing ceremonies; he'd never used a healer's services before, and all of this was new to him. He was amazed to see the glowing forms of the minor angels as they granted power to Star in her healing and made the decision right there that he would pay her the twelve gold a month, if she consented to stay on in the Valley.

"Not all of these people have winter sickness, some just have colds," she said to Ollivar, between calls. "But colds can turn into winter sickness this time of year, so it's better to be cautious."

"I appreciate that approach," said Ollivar. "Now, a friend of mine is next." He led her to Folquet Meridian's house and knocked at the door, and Folquet's wife answered.

"This is the healer, Star Gourovian. We've heard Folquet has a cough."

"He's had it for two weeks now," said Folquet's wife.

"Well, let me have a look," said Star. She and Ollivar went into the Meridian home, and Folquet's wife put some water on for tea. Folquet was sitting in a plush chair, but he rose as Star and Ollivar came into the main room of the house.

"It's just an annoying cough, surely you have more pressing patients than myself," said Folquet.

"I just wanted her to take a look, since we were passing your farmstead," Ollivar said. "We're giving her a workout, so she can meet people and see what the needs of the Valley look like. If she has a good experience here, maybe she'll be staying on."

"Breathe for me, nice and natural," said Star to Folquet. He drew a deep breath and started to let it out and then fell into a wracking cough.

"It's been like this for weeks, as I said," said Folquet's wife. "Doesn't get better, doesn't get worse. Just a dry cough that doesn't cease."

Star splayed out her left hand and put it on Folquet's chest and performed a long incantation.

"Ah, it's getting warm in here," said Folquet. "Is that normal? It's been thirty years since I visited a healer."

"The magic is spreading through your lungs," said Star. "That should break the cough. If it comes back, send word to the long house, and I'll return. Sometimes coughs can be mighty persistent."

"What do I owe you for this visit?" said Folquet.

"Nothing! I'm just showing Baron Teedy what I can do, so he can see if I would be a good companion healer to the Valley folk."

"Well, 'free' is as good a price as I've heard. Here, take a bottle of blackberry wine as a token of my appreciation for your good work." He reached into a rack off to one side of the main room and secured a bottle of the wine, which he gave to Star. She took it, and Ollivar and Folquet talked for a few minutes about Valley business. Then the two of them set off again into the chilly air.

Star spent the rest of that afternoon curing the afflictions of the elderly, seeing to arthritis and rheumatism and more persistent coughs and other complaints.

"It's a shame, but there isn't a lot one can do for the complications of old age," said Star. "Relief for the symptoms is temporary, and the aches and pains will soon be back."

"Any assistance would be welcome, I think," said Ollivar. "Even if it's just a few days of relief. Now, there's one more I'd like you to visit, and that's my lady, Deena Flint. Her arm was broken by a knight, and it was healed by the healer from Hopp. I'd like you to see that it's healed properly, if you don't mind."

"Not at all," said Star. "It's unusual for healers to check up on each other's work, but I understand your concern."

Ollivar led Star to the Flint farmstead, where Deena's mother let them in.

"She hasn't complained of pain, Baron Teedy," said Goodwife Flint. "I think the healer from Hopp did right by her."

"Good to hear," said Ollivar. "I just wanted Star to take a look and make certain the breaks were healed clean."

Goodwife Flint called for Deena, who came down from the upstairs and smiled at Ollivar. When she saw Star the smile faltered a bit, then returned.

"Who's this?" she said lightly.

"This is Star Gourovian," said Ollivar. "She's a healer who is staying at the long house while she tries Valley life for a few days. I asked her to take a look at your arm, to make certain the breaks have healed clean."

"My arm is fine," said Deena. "There's been no pain at all since the healer performed his art. There's no need to look at it."

"I'm told there were multiple breaks," said Star. "Those can be tricky to cure. Are you certain you don't want me to just check it? Pity for it to be weak when it doesn't have to be."

"I think I know my own arm," said Deena.

"Please, Deena, don't be stubborn about your health," said Ollivar. "Just a quick check to see to the breaks."

Deena looked like she was going to say no again, but she looked at Ollivar and gave a vexed sigh. "Very well, then." She held out her arm, and the healer ran her fingers lightly over the skin. She intoned an incantation and grasped Deena's arm firmly and put pressure on it.

"No pain?" she asked.

"No," said Deena.

Star performed another incantation, this time a long one, and then she said, "The breaks have healed true. There are still signs, if you look for them, but the healer from Hopp did a masterful job of repairing the damage."

"As I said," said Deena primly. She took back her arm and said, "So how long will you be staying, lady Star?"

"If I'm well suited to the Valley, I'll stay on permanently. So far things look good. Angels know my skills would be in demand here, and I have much to offer. Baron Teedy and I have to settle on a price for my services, but that should be a simple discussion."

"And would you be staying in the long house, if you stay on?" Deena asked.

"That would seem to be best," said Star.

"You'd have no privacy in the long house, not fitting for a lady," said Deena. "There are a number of farm families with outbuildings that are suited to guests. For a small amount you could stay in one of those and have true privacy."

"Baron Teedy has already made me aware of that option," said Star. "But for now, I prefer the company of the long house. I'm used to the city, and living by myself in an outbuilding seems lonely."

"Yes, well, wouldn't want _that_ ," said Deena. To Ollivar she said, "I thought I'd come by to visit later in the week."

"Please do," said Ollivar. "You know I'd welcome you, and the cook can make something at a moment's notice."

"Well, perhaps we should be back to the long house ourselves," said Star. "It's been a long day healing, and I for one am hungry."

"The cook will have us up something delightful by now," said Ollivar. "Deena, Goodwife Flint."

The women nodded their good-byes, and Ollivar and Star left the Flint farmstead and went back to the long house for dinner. They spoke of the day's healings, and Ollivar asked about the minor angels Star had summoned.

"Oh, they are thralled to Rachmiel," she said. "He is too busy himself to come in person every time I do simple healing, so his assistants come to my aid. He has hundreds of minor angels under him, kept busy all day running to and fro in service to the healers of the land. As are peasants to their lord, so are the little angels to Rachmiel."

"I've never seen an angel before," said Ollivar. "It was impressive, seeing them at work. They give off a feeling of well being that is bracing."

"Yes, 'tranquility comes of the affairs of angels.' Rachmiel has answered my call in person only a handful of times, with extremely ill or gravely injured children. He radiates a feeling of uplift and joy that is too great for words. My patron is powerful, and he grants much strength to me in turn. This Valley would benefit from his presence here."

"Yes. I was pleased with your diligence today, Star. You're not afraid to work. There are many injuries here in the Valley, as I've already said. We need someone who can get out to the farms and see to the injured and sick. You're young and fit, and you seem to get on well with my citizens. What say you to ten gold a month, and free lodgings?"

"Twelve gold a month, and I'll pay for my lodging if that's important to you," said Star.

Ollivar sighed. "I wouldn't dream of making you pay for staying at the long house," he said. "You're my guest here, a guest of the Valley's people. If you decide you want to live in a farmer's outbuilding for more privacy, as Deena said, you can work out a rate with them."

"Twelve is fair for one of my skills," said Star. "I really was outstanding in my class, and your Valley is lucky to get me."

Ollivar chuckled at this, and Star looked nonplussed.

"Let's eat," said Ollivar, and he went in to visit the cook.

Over the next few days Star healed quite a number of children with nasty colds, some of which she said was winter sickness, and there were the elderly with similar ugly sicknesses, and there were more injuries and assorted aches and pains of old age. Star was kept quite busy, and after the first day Ollivar had Scotty take her on her rounds to the various farmsteads. By the end of the third day she was reduced to healing ingrown toenails and mild sprains, and she and Ollivar had their conversation about her staying on. Ollivar agreed to pay her twelve gold a month, and she agreed to stay in the long house over the winter and to have a suitable house built in the spring.

"At your expense, of course," she said to Ollivar.

"A gift from the Valley people to their new healer," he said with satisfaction. There was no telling how many lives Star had already saved among the youngest and oldest of the Valley's people, but Ollivar was satisfied that she was a competent healer and had a powerful patron. She was also pleasant company in the long house, as she knew quite a number of stories and could be prevailed upon to tell one now and again after the day's business was over with. Scotty seemed taken with her and suggested to Ollivar to bring in Alain de Greyhaven to entertain her with song and stories of his own from the Valley's repertoire of local tales. She might like some barrow stories, he suggested eagerly, and she agreed that this might be a good time.

A few days later Deena came to visit. Ollivar had been thinking about her behavior when he and Star went to visit her, and he wondered if she was jealous of Star. She seemed awfully reticent to have Star look over her arm and was clearly unhappy that Star was staying in the long house. Well, there wasn't much to be done for it. For the time being Star was in Ollivar's quarters, that was just the way of things. Deena would get used to this state of affairs, and by the time Star got truly settled in it would be springtime and she'd be moving into her own house. Ollivar figured that Deena was jealous because Star was so attractive, and he wondered what he should say to calm her down.

"I'd like you to do something for me," said Deena as soon as Ollivar let her in. "I'd like a winter dress from Hopp, Ollivar, I haven't anything to wear this winter."

Ollivar was surprised at this request; Deena had never asked him to buy her anything for her. It seemed like a mark of trust in him that she was asking, and he felt pleased but also suspicious.

"Bring it up with Iacopo Grist or Roald Asizzi, and ask them to get you what you like. You'd better go talk to them soon, Deena, because I think the caravans are only going out a few more times this year."

Deena's cheeks were flushed with color, and she seemed to have more energy than usual. She said, "I will," and nodded at Star, who was having dinner with Scotty and Ollivar.

"Well, I'm about finished here," said Star and took her dishes in to the cook and retired to her room. Scotty also made his excuses and retired, and Deena and Ollivar suddenly had the dining room to themselves.

"Have you eaten?" asked Ollivar.

"Yes, thank you. Thanks ever so much for the dress, Ollivar. I didn't want to impose, but if you're serious it's time to start showing it."

"There is no other for me but you," said Ollivar. He indicated a chair, and Deena seated herself.

"The healer is a pretty woman," she said shortly. "A beauty, in fact. Scotty must be taken with her."

"Well, he seems solicitous of her. I think he feels an attraction despite the difference in their ages. She's a bit arrogant, and has the highest opinion of herself, but she knows some good stories and doesn't mind telling them when the day wears on."

"I don't have a head for stories," Deena said. "I enjoy them, but I cannot remember how they go. You'd have to retain Alain de Greyhaven for that."

"Yes, that idea has come up. I think we'll have Alain here in the long house to entertain our guest, in a few days. I'm so glad she's here, Deena. She's already healed a dozen cases of winter sickness, and there'll only be more as the season wears on. We've not had a childbirth yet, but she specializes in such things, and I expect she'll do well at it."

Deena seemed nervous at this and said, "Well, that's to the best, then. I'm glad she's talented, it's good for the Valley. She's not underfoot here in the long house, is she?"

"Not really. Her one bad habit is that she doesn't rise until ten in the morning, and she stays up all hours of the night, talking with me and Scotty or reading. She seems to like Scotty, or at least she's learning useful information about the Valley folk from him."

This seemed to brighten her up, and she said, "Maybe she's taken to Scotty as well as he's taken to her?"

"The difference in ages is serious," he said. "She has six years on him. But certainly I've seen stranger things."

"Ollivar," she said, "Do you love me?"

He could see the anxieties working at her as she contemplated Star sitting around the long house telling stories and talking deep into the night, and he said,

"I'm very fond of you, Deena. Given time I think it will be love. There really is no one else for me but you. I have eyes for no others."

She looked as if she wanted to believe this but couldn't quite.

"Star is good company, but she's not you," he said. "It's a little awkward having a woman in the long house, but that was a risk I took when I posted the call for a healer. It was too much to ask that one come in summer, I suppose. Certainly that's not how my luck operates."

She laughed at this and said, "It's troubling to think of such an attractive healer here in the long house all winter long. Temptation."

"Not to me," he said. "Now, if you're to eventually be the baron's lady, you'll have to get on well with the healer. We really are very lucky to have her, there are many towns and villages that don't have their own healers. Of course, she's costing me an arm and a leg..."

"Oh, is she more expensive than you'd thought?"

"Well, she's charging me as though she was experienced, even though she's a novice. Something about living at the end of the road and needing luxuries. She's the daughter of a baron, and she's used to having the finer things in life."

"That could be bad."

"I talked her down a little in her price, but she still wants a lot. To me it's worth it to have a healer in the Valley. I don't want to lose people to the winter sickness, or in childbirth. Hopp has a healer, why shouldn't we?"

"As long as you think you can handle her," said Deena. "I've always heard that the angels prefer attractive people to be their healers. I guess it's true."

"I don't think I'll have problems with Star," said Ollivar. "I just don't want her to get bored with the Valley and leave us after the winter is over. If talking with her a little while each day is the price I have to pay to keep her around, then so be it."

"Maybe I'll come talk with her as well, she might like female company once in a while."

"She might at that. Lady friends for the lady healer."

They talked for a good while longer about the Valley and its people, and about the healer, and about Ollivar's impending trip back to Calivandamar to visit his mother and sister.

"Every other month seems good to visit my family," said Ollivar. "I wish I could convince my mother to move out here to the Valley, but she doesn't want to leave her friends behind. And she's a city woman, I don't know how she'd do here in the Valley. I miss my sister, she's such a lively little sprite."

"Well, it'll do you good to go and see them again. It's just a couple of weeks away now, so hope it doesn't snow too much before then. The skies are awfully grey these days, it could drop a lot of snow on us at any time."

"Yes, this is Folquet's last caravan of the season, as I understand it. The Valley really is isolated this time of year, isn't it? Just us and the wolves."

They talked a little longer, then Deena said, "Well, mostly I just wanted to come and see how you were doing with _her_ around. I'm glad she isn't a millstone around your neck, Ollivar."

"No, she's pleasant enough company, thankfully. Between her and Scotty and the cook I shan't be bored this winter."

Then Deena departed, leaving Ollivar to hope he had managed to reassure her that she wasn't being replaced by Star.

Two weeks passed, and Star decided to stay on in the Valley. Ollivar paid her the twelve gold a month. She continued to be good company and continued to talk a great deal with Scotty, who seemed glad for her attentions. Ollivar invited Alain de Greyhaven to the long house to sing for them and tell stories, which Star seemed to enjoy. Ollivar brought up the subject of Alain travelling to the capital to learn a larger repertoire of songs and stories, and the young man said that in the spring he was going to go.

"My old parents need me here in the winter, to look after things," he said. "But in the spring I can go to the capital and find other troubadours."

"I'll sponsor your journey," said Ollivar. "Come Oner, I'll give you some gold to defray your expenses. You'll be the official troubadour of Peach Orchard Valley, travelling to expand yourself and your skills. I can give you the names and addresses of some young men in Calivandamar. They aren't troubadours, but they will know of places where you can stay and will see to it that you don't get bored."

"I would be looking up the bard's guild," said Alain. "But your friends would be welcome, too."

"That's settled, then. Come spring, it's time to travel. We can take the same caravan in to the capital, I'll be going to visit my family in Oner."

At the end of Sevener Ollivar took the caravan back to Calivandamar to visit his mother and sister. It had snowed heavily, and the days on the caravan road were long and wearying. Ollivar was on the road fourteen hours a day in the snow, as the horses struggled to move. There were only six inches of snow on the ground, and in patches the wind blew the ground bare or grass was visible, but even just six inches caused the horses to have to work a lot harder to move them along. By the end of each day on the road the horses were exhausted, and Ollivar figured they were excited to make the caravansary and get the chance to rest after their exertions. Everyone in the caravan was saying it was early snow this year, and heavier than usual, and it was going to be a hard winter. Ollivar was just glad to reach Calivandamar and visit his girls.

Ollivar's mother was looking tired when he came calling, but she hugged her son and asked him about his journey, which he had to admit had not been pleasant.

"We appreciate your coming to visit us," she said. "Thank you for braving the snow, son."

Dinner was in the oven when Ollivar arrived and consisted of goose and baked potatoes stuffed with bacon bits. Ollivar devoured his food greedily and talked with his girls.

"It's been a good couple of months, lots of work with winter coming on," said Lilac. "All these fools put off having their winter clothes made until the wind is biting them on the butt. Then suddenly everyone needs new jackets and coats and overtrousers and snow boots. Women need winter dresses and wool overcoats. There's more work than I can keep up with right now, so I've got Jenet helping out a bit, too."

"I'm not as good at it as mother is, but I can assist after school," said Jenet.

"I'm glad to hear you've got plenty to do, both of you," said Ollivar. "I'm staying busy in the Valley as well, for such a small community there's always a lot going on."

There was a lot of news to catch up on, and Ollivar and his mother talked well into the night, long after Jenet had to go to bed to be ready for school the next day. Mostly they talked about Star and what it meant to the Valley to have a healer there, and Lilac told Ollivar gossip from the city that was mostly about himself.

"I've lost customers because of you," Lilac said with humor. "People refuse to have anything to do with the seamstress who's the mother of a necromancer, white or black. One of my long-time friends will have nothing to do with me anymore, because she was being harassed for being a friend of mine. And we've had troubadours knocking at our door at all hours, wanting to know about you. I send them away and tell them to visit you in Peach Orchard Valley, hoping to get rid of them. I'm surprised they haven't knocked on the door tonight, hearing you were back in Calivandamar. Are they after you in your Valley?"

"No, none of them has had the courage to come out to the Valley as yet. I've been told to expect them this summer, then this fall, and now we're expecting them in the spring. This month is the last caravans out of the Valley for the winter, there won't be any traffic after this. I'm sorry my profession is causing you grief, mother."

"It's people's own foolishness causing me grief," said Lilac. "Everyone knows the song of the white necromancer, but you'd swear they forget. Lord Erol has laid out a decree that the white necromancer has his protection, and that seems to have held for the most part. He came back from his visit to your Valley full of decrees about this and that, most having to do with Hawk Domain. I think he's expecting more trouble from them, Ollivar. He's still angry at them for the Winter's War, I'm surprised Swan Domain hasn't declared war on Hawk Domain before now. We held them off in the Winter's War, but you know how they are. Belligerant."

"I wonder what they'll think when they hear there's a white necromancer come again," said Ollivar. "Maybe they'll think to come and wipe me out."

"Don't you have bone men of your own, you were saying?"

"Yes, but Hawk Domain can raise a _lot_ of men when they want to, and Lord Erol has limited the number of skeleton warriors I'm allowed. I'm building a wall across the mouth of the Valley, to increase our defense, but it'll be years before it's finished."

"Well, you're way out west, and Hawk Domain is way out east, and they've got to come across Swan Domain to get to you. I don't think Lord Erol would be so keen on that. He's been hiring sorcerers for the last several months for some project he's got in mind, and people are speculating that he means a war of magic against Hawk Domain. He's never forgiven them for the Winter's War and all the men he lost."

The conversation slowly slacked off, and Ollivar found himself yawning and excused himself and turned in. It wasn't good that Lilac was having troubles with her customers, people could turn on you in a moment, and savagely. He didn't think it likely that Lilac or Jenet could end up on the stake, but he was surprised that Jenet wasn't having more problems in school, with other children taking a grudge against her brother. Maybe they were keeping this from him, so as not to worry him?

The next few days went by swiftly. Ollivar gave some money to his mother, from the barrow gold, and he took Jenet shopping and got her presents and goodies. She seemed in good spirits, and he made a point of it to ask her how things were going in school. She said everything was good. She had some troubles with other children because of Ollivar, but the teachers were frowning on this sort of thing, and so far it had not been a serious problem. Many children were fascinated by the legend of the white necromancer and wondered out loud if Ollivar was going to end up on the stake, like Stony Brook, which upset Jenet a bit, but she had faith Ollivar could handle his own problems. More faith than Ollivar himself had, he reflected. Ending up on the stake was a hazard of his occupation, there was no skirting it. Again he wondered if Folquet was right, and he should consider giving up necromancy. But would his enemies really care if he gave it up or not? He couldn't imagine Lord Erol's idiot heir ceasing his barrage just because Ollivar was no longer practicing the magic. Maybe Ollivar would have to eventually leave Swan Domain for Cormorant Domain or Pelican Domain, which were friendlier to magicians. Maybe white necromancy would be welcome in those lands.

On the third night Ollivar was back in the city Jenet surprised him by singing the song of First Knight McKellan. She did a good job of it, too. She'd learned the song in school and liked it so much she memorized the whole thing and practiced singing it with her friends. After dinner she sang it for Ollivar:

A long time ago there was a First Knight

Who had a black warhorse, Berenzhar.

The two of them took up the fight

Against the necromancers, foul and dark.

McKellin was the knight's own name;

He and Berenzhar were forged in flame.

Now the two were riding on patrol

Out to the west, in the barrow lands.

With ten other knights, soul to soul,

Cleansing the land of barrow wights, with their own hands.

It was necromancers they were seeking,

To stop the havoc they'd been wreaking.

Then one day, outside of Hopp,

A hundred bone men the knights espied.

Their bones were painted, toes to top,

In festive colors, with the insects they vied.

The knights charged to do battle with the bone men

Rode them down and brought them to an end.

Behind the bone men was an army of janglers

Who stabbed at the knights with fingers long and sharp.

Blood was spilled by these infant manglers,

Good knights fell to the earth, summer-parched.

McKellin and Berenzhar slashed and kicked;

They destroyed many janglers and were themselves only nicked.

Far off in the barrows they saw the necromancer;

Broken Jade was his patron-given name.

He was astride a great white horse, a real prancer,

He was surrounded by soul screamers, such was his fame.

The knights regrouped and spied out their task,

They had to kill this necromancer and reveal what was beneath his mask.

But there were other concerns to worry about.

This close to Hopp, the necromancer's victims lay

Wounded and bleeding, farmers and townsfolk both.

These folk were having an exceptionally bad day.

The knights rounded up the wounded, and the dazed

And put these folk behind them, to cheer them on, amazed.

Broken Jade had collected his own fighting men;

Fifty foot soldiers, with swords and maces,

Hardened men, cut loose of their kin,

The knights charged them and cut down their faces.

The fighting was hard, the fighting was tough,

The knights won the battle, through skill and some luck.

But the day's battles had just started.

Broken Jade's bone lords next joined the battle;

They attacked the knight's horses and cut them down.

Only Berenzhar remained, full of mettle.

The knights shivered the lords of bone,

Broke their bodies and sent their souls home.

Only the First Knight remained horsed.

There were four soul screamers around Broken jade,

McKellin faced them with magic sword well versed.

He stopped up his ears with wax from a candle,

And raced across the grass to ride them down.

Their shrieks saved them not; he beheaded them on the steps of the town.

Now McKellin and Broken jade faced each other.

Broken Jade paralyzed the good knight and cut his throat.

But Berenzhar kicked and smashed in broken Jade's head,

His corpse fell to earth, it just seemed to float.

So the knights won their fight,

And Broken Jade was dispatched to the night.

Jenet finished singing the song and bowed; Ollivar whistled and clapped enthusiastically at his sister's rendition. She had got the tune right and proper and remembered the words just as Ollivar remembered them from his own school days. This song was only about sixty or seventy years old; First Knight McKellin had ridden within living memory of the oldest people, and his song was much loved in Swan Domain. He had been a resident of that domain and had died in the battle against Broken Jade, who was on his way to raising a Great Disturbance when the knights came across him and prevented his destruction of Hopp. There was only one detail in the song which seemed fanciful to Ollivar, and that was stopping up the ears with wax to ride against soul screamers. He didn't think that would work outside a song. The cry of soul screamers was proof against just about any magic protection one could muster; there were a few charms some healers were given that allowed one to ride against soul screamers, but this was secret knowledge guarded closely by the warrior angels who handed it out.

Also, Ollivar was sure that the cry of soul screamers would have killed the war horse Berenzhar, even if his master's ears were stopped up. Ollivar had read conflicting reports on this, so he wasn't certain of it, but animals were supposedly also slain by a soul screamer's cry.

"I can see they're actually teaching you something in school, congratulations," said Ollivar, and Jenet said indignantly,

"I'm first in my class in songs and games, Ollivar. I know the lay of the white necromancer, and I've been learning some of the songs they're singing about you, but those aren't finished yet, and they're not very good."

"Troubadours?" said Ollivar.

"Uh-huh. They come to our school and sing songs of the new white necromancer, but they're pretty bad songs. They obviously don't know you. They're just making stuff up."

"That's what most troubadours do, I'm afraid," said Ollivar. "We have one in the Valley, a young man named Alain de Greyhaven, and he makes up little tunes all the time, just to celebrate the young women of the Valley or to commemorate a sunny spring or summer day, or a particularly good festival."

"I don't want to be a troubadour, like Shimmering Peg," said Jenet. "She does children's songs in school. Mostly it's baby stuff. I don't think I'd like to sing for a living. Just for fun!"

Then Ollivar's visit was over with, and he rode back to the Valley with Folquet's caravan. His heart was heavy. It was always hard leaving his girls behind, he missed them and wished they could be together. He viewed his mother's loss of her friend in a positive light. If she lost several of her friends, maybe she'd consider moving to the Valley. His reputation as the white necromancer might yet work to his favor. He hoped the caravan would be attacked by bandits, so he could destroy them and feel better about returning to the Valley, but it was late in autumn, there was snow on the ground, and the bandits were all elsewhere.

Folquet had good news for him, in that some of the jewelry from the barrows had sold. There were more than ten thousand pieces of gold in the caravan, for Ollivar's treasury. He was pleased, but it was going to take a lot more than ten thousand gold to build a castle. Half a million gold was the figure he'd been quoted, including additional walls and towers and a small moat fed from the river. And Bonehaven Town was supposed to take about twenty-five thousand gold to build. It was the stonework that was so expensive; castles were solid basalt, and even with the skeleton workmen cutting stone it still needed to be fitted by expert stonemasons, who didn't come cheap. Bonehaven Town was going to be half stone and half wood, which was why it was going to be so costly to build. Ollivar wanted only the best for his Valley; he wanted a modern town and a modern castle that would be the envy of the land. If the people of Swan Domain wanted to talk about the white necromancer so badly, they could talk about what he was doing for his citizens.

But somehow Ollivar suspected that the people of Swan Domain wouldn't talk about his improvements to the Valley. They would talk about when he'd go sour, and how hard it must be to live in Peach Orchard Valley with a necromancer hanging over their heads. They'd talk about bone men and bone lords and evil magic. They'd talk about Stony Brook and his bad end and compare him to Ollivar.

Then the caravan came back into the Valley, and Folquet dropped Ollivar off at the long house with a saddle bag full of gold, which Ollivar put in the treasury. If the bandits had known there was ten thousand gold on the caravan, they'd have attacked for certain, he reflected. There had to be men at the caravansaries who were reporting to the bandits, but Folquet had kept word of the gold quiet, and so the caravan was not attacked. It wouldn't have mattered if the bandits _had_ attacked the caravan, he thought, because he would have destroyed them.

"Welcome back," said Scotty as Ollivar came in the door of the long house.

"Feels good to return," said Ollivar, who dragged the saddlebags to the treasury and put them in with the bone lords. "Though I now miss my mother and sister rather fiercely."

"A good visit, I trust?" said Star.

"Very good, very inspiring. My little sister sang me the song of First Knight McKellin and did a good job of it. She says she doesn't want to be a troubadour, though. Perhaps I'll ask Alain to call on her and my mother in the spring, when he goes to the city. It might change her mind and give her a good calling, having a troubadour visit with her."

"I was quite young when I decided to become a healer," said Star. "It's good to expose children to different professions, so they can see what they might like."

"I was eleven when I became a page," said Scotty. "I was well suited to the work, and it's become part of me over the years. It's a good thing to give children some responsibility, they want to be like their parents."

"Yes, well, my mother is teaching Jenet to be a seamstress," said Ollivar. "So her path forward is somewhat confused."

The cook brought in dinner, steak and corn on the cob, and laid it out for Ollivar's pleasure. He ate with a great appetite and didn't talk much as he demolished his food.

"A few more cases of winter sickness while you were gone," said Star. "Nothing serious, but it's sinking in for the winter, now."

"More grumbling about the town you propose to build," said Scotty. "People are afraid of townies living in the Valley and lording it over the Valley folk. Plus, three hundred new people to learn about, which ones can be trusted and which ones can't. Some people are excited about professional services coming to the Valley, but mostly it's worries, Baron Teedy."

"Isn't it always," said Ollivar. "In other words, nothing particularly new since I've been away."

"That's the way of it," said Scotty.

A few days passed, and Ollivar got used to being back in the Valley. It was early Eighter, and he busied himself by going over the plans for the castle and Bonehaven Town that the architect and engineer had drawn up. He found minor fault here and there, things he'd now change given the chance, but all in all the plans were good ones, and he looked forward to spring's arrival and the chance to begin building. He hoped the jewelry from the tombs would prove popular over the winter, and by the time they went to collect the revenues in the spring there would be a goodly amount of money waiting for them. He wanted a hundred thousand gold in the treasury by early spring, but he was afraid he'd have to settle for much less. Maybe the castle would have to be put off another year, which thought irritated him.

Now that winter was arrived Alain de Greyhaven was in much demand for his song and storytelling skills, and Ollivar found it hard to engage him attentions. Scotty said this was normal for winter, everyone wanted stories, and the troubadour of the Valley would be busy for the next few months. Ollivar grumbled but accepted the situation with good grace. There were other storytellers who could be engaged, even if they weren't of Alain's caliber, and the four of them needn't get too terribly bored. Besides, Star knew many stories of her own, and she didn't mind telling them. Ollivar could only feel envious of this skill on other people's part. He remembered maybe half a dozen stories that had been popular in Calivandamar, stories from his childhood that had stuck in his mind, but that was his entire repertoire. Star appeared to know something like a hundred stories, and Ollivar was jealous of her memory and her skill at telling them. She changed voices, changed pitch and intonation and whispered and shouted when telling her stories. The effect was a very satisfying storytelling that left him feeling he'd been in an expert's hands. All that, and a healer, too!

During the second week of Eighter Star continued her rounds of the Valley, healing the winter sickness wherever it turned up and destroying common colds and fevers as well. One day she returned to the long house with a thoughtful look on her face. She took Scotty aside and had a long talk with him without broaching any subject with Ollivar, who was used to this and thought nothing of it. He had brought out the gold mask from the lord's tomb and was fingering it, wondering who the lord had been and what his life had been like. The mask was thick and solid gold, and though Ollivar turned it over and over he found no writings or symbols on it at all. He wished the ancestors had left behind writing in their tombs, some clue as to their lives and loves and hopes and dreams. One day he would have to travel to Bright Lake and see the cities of the ancients for himself and puzzle out what to make of it all.

"Baron Teedy, there is a matter which I feel I should bring up with you," said Star, interrupting Ollivar's thoughts.

"What would that be?" said Ollivar.

"Apparently you are not the only sorcerer in Peach Orchard Valley," she said, glancing at Scotty.

Ollivar felt a pinprick of interest in this and said, "Really? This would be the first I've heard of it." He too looked at Scotty and saw the young man's unhappy expression.

"Scotty?" said Ollivar.

"There is another sorcerer in the Valley, a wild magician named Celina Bettington. She's been coming along in her magic for about two years now. All the Valley knows about her, she pulled stunts at the harvest festival last year. Her parents have kept her away from you, because she hates necromancers. Her brother was a knight with the knights stationed to protect the Valley, and he was killed by a necromancer some four years ago."

"She is strong in the magic, and could be quite an asset," said Star.

"How old is this wild magician?" said Ollivar. Wild magic, here in his Valley!? Pelican Domain and Cormorant Domain had many wild magicians, they bred them like flies there it was said. But most domains had only a few. In Sandpiper Domain wild magicians were put to the stake, and he'd heard it was the same in Eagle and Falcon Domains. Everyone was nervous around sorcerers, and only a few domains welcomed them. Kingfisher Domain was well known for its many sorcerers, and Heron Domain had many elemental wizards. Egret Domain also had a large number of sorcerers, and Egret and Heron Domains had had ferocious wars of magic that killed many citizens and scarred the land.

"She is seven," said Star. "And a fierce little thing, as wild magicians are said to be. She much impressed me with her intelligence, but she bears you no love, that's a fact. And stormy grey eyes that look right through you."

"I'll have to visit this wild magician and meet her for myself," Ollivar said.

"That might be a bad idea, Baron Teedy," said Scotty. "She hates you on principles, and would probably try to kill you on sight."

"Surely her parents have her under control?" said Ollivar, eyeing up the two of them.

"Barely," said Star. "She is impetuous and, as I said, a fierce little thing. She is also quite talented with the wild magic. I agree with Scotty, she would just as soon kill you on sight."

"Then I'll have to come at this most carefully," said Ollivar. "Scotty, would you take a message to her parents, that I would like to visit their daughter? Try to make sure the girl overhears. My own sister is eight, I know girls that age. She will be curious. Tell her parents I would like to see her magic in use and to know what she can do with it. Appeal to her pride in her abilities. Let's try to get this on a solid footing from the start."

"Might be better to let her parents work with her for a few more years, and then introduce yourself," said Scotty, but he agreed to take the message.

"What do you recommend, Star?" said Ollivar.

"Go gentle on the necromancy, and stand on your position as baron. Children are fascinated with the nobility, every little girl wants to be a duchess. Wear your finest clothing, and take a gift. Everyone likes to receive gifts." She thinks on it. "Something from the barrows."

"My thought as well," said Ollivar. "As soon as you said a gift I thought of a fine little cloak pin from the barrows. Something useful but also beautiful. Now. Why haven't I heard about this before now, Scotty?"

"The Valley people are proud of their little sorceress," said Scotty. "Her family has been wary of making your acquaintance on account of the girl's hatred of necromancers. Back when you first came to the Valley and held a meeting of the people, Celina was in the audience and eager to kill you. Remember that disturbance? It was her, with her parents trying to talk her out of attacking you."

"This smacks of lack of trust in me, that you haven't told me this sooner," said Ollivar. "I'm disappointed."

"You slew that knight who broke Deena's arm without a trace of regret," said Scotty. "I shouldn't like a dead wild magician here in our Valley, and a child as well."

"Let's see that it doesn't come to that," said Ollivar. He felt a burst of excitement over all this; as a child he had been fascinated by the wild magic. Such sorcerers were temperamental, it was said, and powerful. But they fought all the time, amongst themselves and with other sorcerers. Lord Erol currently had no wild magicians in his employ, so far as Ollivar knew, though some of the earls and marquises were said to have wild magicians on their staffs. Lord Erol didn't like their unpredictability. Wild magicians differed in their skills and talents, but all of them could do things like turn people into trees or animals, or animate forests to attack an army, or make wild weather. Many had storm magic, and some could talk to animals or plants. When he was very young Ollivar had dreamed of someday being a wild magician himself, and this dream had not fully fallen away from him, though wild magicians announced themselves young and only became more potent as they grew into adult years.

If he had to he could simply paralyze the girl, and prevent her from attacking him in that way. But children were fast, so very quick, and what would he do if she turned him into a tree or a bird? He brooded on this. He would have to get this child to see him as a _white_ necromancer, and a bone healer, instead of a black necromancer and a murderer. He wished he knew what her parents had been telling her, what stories they had filled her little head with. Had she heard the lay of the white necromancer from Alain? She hadn't been attacking Ollivar's skeleton warriors, so she had _some_ discipline.

The whole Valley knew of this wild magician, Scotty said. Everyone but himself. Because the girl hated necromancers, and the Valley folk wanted to avoid a confrontation. How quick was this girl to anger? What were her specific abilities? It would be wise to summon the girl's father, or perhaps her mother, to the long house, and ask about their daughter in depth. There would only be one opportunity to meet the girl for the first time, and it was important that he do it well.

"Scotty," he said. "In addition to the message I asked you to convey, invite her father to the long house in a few days, for lunch. Tell him I want to discuss his daughter and learn more about the wild magic."

"I can do that," said Scotty. "I think a cautious approach is wisest."

"I agree," said Star. "Charm this girl, Baron Teedy. Make a supporter of her."

"That's the idea," said Ollivar. "Did you see any sign of her gifts when you visited, Star?"

"No, she performed no magic for me. Her little brother had the winter sickness, and I summoned a minor angel to remove it. She was fascinated by the magic, of course, and by the angel, and she asked a number of intelligent questions about it all. But she didn't show off her own skills in return. Still, she radiates magic, and I felt this and inquired of her parents, who told me of her abilities."

"I see," said Ollivar. "I suppose she could turn a white necromancer into a tree."

"A stately maple, perhaps," Scotty smiled.

Ollivar looked at him. "I'm not sure the type of tree is so important," he grunted. "Could she turn me back, once changed? I'm not certain all wild magicians can do that."

"She talks to animals, and refuses to let her father kill any of the farm animals, which are all her pets now," said Scotty. "The family buys their meat from other farm families. The girl doesn't eat meat. She eats an exotic mix of vegetables and fruits that was recommended to her by the healer in Hopp. Her mother went to Hopp to discuss the matter with him specifically."

"Ah," said Ollivar. "What else have you heard?"

"She can sing a nut into a tree in a matter of hours, and she can turn into a bird and fly around the Valley at whim. I don't know how much of this is true, Baron Teedy. Much of it has the feel of made-up stories."

"I'll get it directly from her father, the straight story," said Ollivar. "Now, I'm turning in. Please deliver my messages in the early morning, Scotty. I want to address this matter expeditiously."

Scotty inclined his head in agreement, and Ollivar took his leave of his companions and retired to his room. He was disappointed in the Valley people and especially disappointed in Scotty for not trusting him with this secret. It took another outsider, Star, to bring him the news. A fully trained wild magician was a powerful asset for the Valley. He would have to send away for tutors for the girl, perhaps an adult wild magician would take an interest in this pip. This would cost serious money. Always more money! The Valley would have a healer and a necromancer and a wild magician, it was awash in magic. But better not to count coup just yet. There were conversations to be had over the next few days, and information to be gleaned, for this first encounter to be a fruitful one. How much was this girl Celina like Jenet? There had to be similarities, but a wild magician would be a handful, if the stories were true. Tutors, definitely tutors.

Scotty delivered Ollivar's messages, and three days later Goodman Bettington came to the long house for lunch and a conversation. The cook make a superb lunch of pork ribs and asparagus, and the two men ate with only polite conversation between them. Goodman Bettington was a man in his early thirties whose hair was already graying around his temples. He had a square, solid face with thick lips and a big nose and big ears. The man looked like a farmer, like there should be a stalk of wheat sticking out of his mouth, or a long blade of grass. He was sturdily built and looked like a man you wouldn't want angry at you.

"So, Goodman Bettington, how many children do you have?" asked Ollivar.

"Four, spirits be good. Celina is the oldest girl child. She has an older brother, then there is a younger brother and little sister. Our family is about as big as we want it."

"Four children is an accomplishment," said Ollivar. "Must be a handful."

"Celina is the handful," said the man. "Stubborn and strong-willed, and with her magic she wreaks havoc on the household. She breaks things constantly, and we fear for our farm when she gets older. And of course she talks to all the farm animals, they're friends of hers, so she won't hear of slaughtering any of the animals. Makes a mighty peculiar farmstead, let me tell you. Maybe when you build this town of yours, I'll turn it into a petting farm, like they have in Hopp, where the townies come out to the farm to see all the animals. Critters might as well earn their keep!"

Ollivar chuckled. "I hear your daughter can turn into a bird, that is quite a story."
Goodman Bettington looked up from his braised ribs and stared Ollivar right in the eye. "It's the prettiest little bluejay you ever saw," he said. "With stormy grey eyes and bright wing feathers. She can turn into that bird and a sparrow, and a hawk, though she doesn't take the hawk shape very often. She flies around the Valley and talks to her little friends, she can speak in her bird form."

Ollivar felt a shiver of excitement run up his legs. "What else does she do?" he said.

"She once turned her older brother into a tree for three days. He made her mad somehow, and she turned him into an oak tree and left him that way. Couldn't myself or her mother talk her into turning him back, neither. We had to wait until she got over her anger. And that brings us to you, Baron Teedy."

"Because your daughter doesn't like necromancers," said Ollivar.

"To say my daughter 'doesn't like' necromancers is a vast understatement," said Goodman Bettington. "She hates your kind with a passion, Baron. Her oldest brother was slain by a necromancer, and she has hated them ever since. I don't know how we'd get her to talk with you without attacking."

"What did she say when Scotty came with my messages?"

"Her comment was, 'the bad man is going to get punished,'" said Goodman Bettington. "She's big on punishment, Celina is. My wife parks her in the corner or spanks her bottom when she's naughty, and she knows for punishment. She's always been eager to hand it out to others." He grinned.

Ollivar smiled. "Well, we have to convince her I'm not a bad man, then," he said. "Does she know I healed Lord Erol's heir?"

"We heard something like that. Don't know the real story, though."

So Ollivar told him the story of Lord Erol's heir and how he was healed. "You might tell that to Celina, so she knows I'm not a black necromancer," he said. "What do you think of Alain de Greyhaven coming by in a day or two to sign the song of the white necromancer? Children like that song, and it makes an impression. It certainly did on my sister and me."

"Alain de Greyhaven is a puffed-up little poff of a lad," grumbled Goodman Bettington. "If you'll pay for him I'll let him sing for the children, they might enjoy it. But he won't be a frequent guest on the Bettington farmstead, and that's a fact."

"Just a few children's songs, then," said Ollivar. "And yes, I'll pay his fee."

This seemed to satisfy the man, and he finished his asparagus and ribs and pushed the plate away. "Asparagus makes your piss smell funny," he said. "Makes Celina laugh and laugh. She likes stinks of all sorts, my daughter does, whether it be piss or pigs or the barn muck."

"Well, I can always wear perfume when I come to visit," said Ollivar.

"You're hell-bent on coming to see her, are you, Baron?"

"It's in the best interests of the Valley that your daughter and I be on good terms," said Ollivar. "Besides, I was fascinated with the wild magic when I was a child. It will be exciting to finally meet a wild magician."

"Maybe more excitement than you would wish for," Goodman Bettington said. "Well, I won't try to talk you out of it, but I'd say we need to prepare my daughter for your visit. My wife and I will work on her for the next few days, and have Alain come by whenever is convenient for him, I suppose. Evenings are better, after the day's work is finished. After supper. The children will be ready for a story or three, and maybe a song. Ay yi yi, Alain de Greyhaven. A bad influence if ever there was one."

Their words at a close, Ollivar saw the farmer off and then went to his room and rummaged around in the barrow treasures until he found the pin he was thinking of, a gold one with a row of little rubies in the shape of an arrow. It was real gold, he was sure of that, and as such it might impress the child. The rubies were sparkly and bright red, and he hoped they would beguile Celina. The girl liked stinks of all sorts; strong smells, then. So perfume was in order. Ollivar didn't think much of men wearing perfume, though it was the custom in Calivandamar for men to do so. Not every custom was a good custom. Still, if it would give him just that much more of an advantage, he'd wear the stuff for his visit to the girl.

She could turn into a bird and talk in that form, this was something Ollivar had to see for himself. What a gift that would be, to fly over the Valley and look at all the little farmsteads below, and all the little workers at their labors. She could be a spy ferreting out the secrets of an enemy army, or she could simply amuse with tales of the comings and goings of those who didn't know they were being observed. He wanted to see her take all her different forms, but of course she might be stubborn about it and refuse him. This felt to Ollivar like the first real test of his position as baron of Peach Orchard Valley. He had to impress upon a seven year old girl that he was of the good and not the ill and hopefully win her over to his side. If he failed he would have a deadly enemy right in his own Valley, someone who hated him and could make trouble for him. It was enough to give him a headache, even as it was a challenge.

The next few days went by swiftly, and Alain de Greyhaven went to the Bettington farmstead and sang the lay of the white necromancer. He reported to Ollivar that the girl seemed suitably moved by the song, though she didn't seem to like him very much, and he told a few stories and left the farmstead before her opinion of him could completely sour.

"I don't know why the girl dislikes me so," he said. "Certainly I've said and done nothing against her or her family. A willful little thing she is, ordering her little brother and little sister around like servants. She seems to respect her big brother, though. Maybe you should point out to her that you have a sister her age."

"Yes, I was planning to do that," said Ollivar. "Thank you, Alain."

"My pleasure, Baron Teedy," he returned.

Ollivar thought the opinion of the father against Alain was probably why the girl was disposed against the troubadour, and he said, "I think Goodman Bettington is suspicious of troubadours, Alain. I suspect this is why the girl was sour on you."

"Yes, many people think troubadours are suspicious characters." Alain seemed annoyed by this but smiled anyway. "Well, the girl has heard the lay, and her parents said they have told her the story of your healing the heir. Celina is as ready as she'll ever be for your visit, I think."

Ollivar thanked him and sent him on his way, then he gathered up Star and took her with him to the Bettington homestead. "Everyone is well disposed toward healers, and since you healed her brother of winter sickness she should remember you fondly. Come with me, Star, and help convince this willful child that I am not a demon."

"I'll go and do my best, but the girl has a mind of her own, and you should be very careful," Star said.

Ollivar went to his room and put on some perfume, the most fragrant he owned, and picked up the gold and ruby pin. He returned to the main room, and he and Star took their leave of Scotty and the cook and headed to the Bettington farmstead. The walk was a long one, as the farmstead was one of the most remote in the Valley; the Bettingtons liked their privacy. Ollivar used the time to tell Star the role he wished her to play. He was actually enjoying this, he realized. He wanted to put Peach Orchard Valley on the map of Swan Domain, and having his own wild magician would certainly help toward that goal. All the things he had heard about her swirled around in his mind as they walked, and he found himself full of anticipation.

Eventually the Bettington farmstead came into view, and Ollivar and Star looked sharp and slowed down to prepare themselves for their performance. Ollivar knocked on the door of the farmhouse, and Goodwife Bettington, a round-faced woman who looked as though she ate quite well, let them in.

"Celina is upstairs, playing with her little sister, which is where she often is in the afternoons," said the goodwife. "She'll hear us and come down in a few minutes. Awfully curious about visitors, she is. An exciting day, Baron Teedy, having you visiting us and all. We don't get many visitors at this remote farm, and we've never been visited by a baron before."

"Well, I hope it turns out to be a good visit, and memorable for all the right reasons," said Ollivar.

"And I wanted to check on your son, and see to it he's still well," said Star.

"Yes, Robeir hasn't had a cough or runny nose since your visit, healer," she said. "We were terrified it was the winter sickness, as I said then, and wanted to nip it as fast as possible, before the demons spread it to the other children. Where there's one sick child there are many, they say."

"They do, indeed," said Star. "I'm glad to hear he's well. I just need a few minutes with him, to check him over, and see to it that I got it the first time."

"Robeir!" called the goodwife. "The healer's here to see you! Come down!"

They waited for a few moments, and there was the sound of footsteps coming down the staircase, then they saw the boy appear as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He was about five years old and was a handsome little fellow, with his father's features but less blunt and more rounded. His black hair was long and puffy, and he walked up to Star and bowed.

"I feel good," he said to her.

"That's excellent," she said, and lifted his shirt and put her hand on his chest. "Breathe in for me. Now, out. In. Out. Again. And one more time." She said an incantation, and the boy laughed.

"That tickles," he said, and Star smiled.

"That's a minor angel, checking you over for good health," she said.

There were more footsteps from the stairs, and a black-haired girl appeared. She was the right age to be Celina, and Ollivar found himself holding his breath. She was a plain little girl, but she had stormy grey eyes that reflected the firelight brightly and stood out on her face. She wore plain farmer's clothing, baggy brown trousers and a loose white blouse and a dun-colored wool vest against the cold. Her black boots appeared to be rabbit hide, with the fur turned inward. But it was her walk that was arresting, she walked tall and upright and proud. She fixed Star with her eyes and said,

"Are you bringing more angels, healer Star?"

"Just brought one, you missed it."

"Oh!" she complained. "Robeir, you must tell me all about the angels later on."

"You're not my lord," said the little boy, and Celina grinned.

"Bad little boys get turned into gophers," she said.

Ollivar wondered how often she turned her siblings into various plants and animals and thought it must be hard on the other children, having a sister with such talents. Turned into a gopher for several days, what was to prevent the sibling from being eaten by a fox? Her parents must have a tight cord on her, to prevent lost children.

"This is Baron Teedy, he's the lord of the Valley," said Goodwife Bettington.

Celine's eyes went from Star's face to Ollivar's, and the corners of her mouth turned down.

"You brought the bone men," she said. "You're a necromancer."

"I'm the new white necromancer, yes, child," said Ollivar.

"Maybe Star will burn you at the stake," Celina said gleefully.

"It was very sad, what happened to the old white necromancer," said Ollivar. "The healer betrayed him and made him dead, and he just wanted to help the people."

"Necromancers are evil. They worship demons and devils and kill people." The girl's hand rose up, and she pointed at Ollivar, and he knew no more.

"'s better," said Goodman Bettington. "That's a good girl, Celina. He's our lord, after all, and we must be good citizens."

"He's a necromancer, and he's evil," said Celina.

Ollivar was lying on the floor, unsure of what was going on. There was a fire in the fireplace, still, and Celina and her parents were standing over him. There was no sign of Robeir or Star.

"Where is Star?" said Ollivar.

"She left a long time ago," said Goodwife Bettington pensively. "Two weeks ago, in fact."

"Two weeks?" said Ollivar.

"Yes, well now, Baron Teedy, you've been a lovely birch tree for the last two weeks," said Goodman Bettington. "Right in our own living room, with your roots down into the root cellar. Celina finally agreed to turn you back into a man. She's been a good girl, Celina has. Mindful of her place in the scheme of things."

"We should kill him," the girl said vengefully.

Ollivar reflected that this was not going that well, and decided it was time to address her directly. "Celina, I have a sister who is your age. Her name is Jenet. She lives in Calivandamar, which is the capital of Swan Domain. Whenever I go back to visit her I take her shopping in all the stores for young ladies, and I get her presents. Today I brought a present for you, from the barrows. A bit of barrow-gold, straight from the ancestors themselves." He fumbled in his pocket and dug out the pin. He got to his knees and then stood up and ruffled his hair with the other hand. He held the pin out to her, and she looked suspiciously at his hand.

"What is it?" she said.

"It's a cloak pin, I think," he said. "Or something like it. Made of real gold, and rubies from the barrows. I found it while I was treasure hunting, a few months ago. No one else has seen it but those of us here in this room. It's real barrow treasure, from a long time ago."

She looked up at him, and he saw her grey eyes seeming to swirl in the firelight. There was anger there, but there was also curiosity.

"If you're a white necromancer, you have to do good things," she said forcefully. "If you do bad things I will kill you. I'll turn you into a chipmunk and sic the dogs on you, I will."

"I'm really a white necromancer, and I am lord of this Valley," said Ollivar. He glanced at Goodman Bettington, who looked amused at all this, and his wife, who looked nervous. "I will be a good lord, Celina, and I will use my magic to help the people. That's what I want you to do, too, use your magic to help the people."

"My magic is just for me," said Celina. "No one else."

"Star has magic, and she uses it to help people," said Ollivar. "She can summon angels for healing. Can you summon angels?"

"No," said the girl. "But I can turn people into trees and animals, and I can summon hailstorms. And I can turn into a bird, too."

"That's what Star told me. Can you do that now? Turn into a bird?"

"I only do that in the summer," she said. "It's too cold to fly around, in the winter."

"You must see wonderful things as a bird."

"Mostly it's boring. Just farmers and houses and corn. Once I saw an elk, and I went and talked to him. He had big horns and was very conceited. And if you're a bad necromancer I'll kill you. I'll blast all your bone men into shards and cut you down, Baron Teedy."

Ollivar handed her the pin, and she took it and slipped it into a pocket in her trousers. "I'll bet _you_ can't turn into a bird," she said.

"No, I can't. But I can do some healing, like Star, when it's bone that's injured. But not with angels."

"Angels are great and powerful," said Celina. "They're good. Nobody wants to hurt angels except for demons."

"White necromancers are on the side of the angels," said Ollivar. It was a slight exaggeration, but harmless, he reflected.

The girl looked at him with the anger still in her eyes. Ollivar wasn't sure it was possible to win her over; perhaps a truce was the best that could be arranged. "In the spring I want you to come to the long house and show me how to turn into a bird," he said. "I'd be very interested in seeing that. You must be very proud of your magical gifts. I want to hire a tutor to teach you more magic, Celina. You can learn some things on your own, but it's always better to learn with a tutor. They can show you things you haven't thought of on your own. In the spring, then."

Celina raised her hand as she had when she turned him into a tree, then she lowered her hand, then raised it again.

"We're teaching Celina to use her magic; she practices with her brothers and sisters," said Goodman Bettington.

"That must be exciting for all of them," said Ollivar, chuckling.

"Robeir doesn't like being a squirrel, but it's good for him," said Celina. "That way he sees what it's like to be small."

Ollivar looked around, but Robeir wasn't around to gainsay this assertion. "Well, I'm going to go back to the long house," he said. "It's been very interesting meeting all of you. Celina, I won't forget you. Remember, in the spring come and visit me."

"Alain de Greyhaven is a miserable poff," the girl said. "But he tells good stories, and he can sing."

"Maybe I'll have Alain at the long house when you come by," said Ollivar, but then he remembered that Alain was planning to travel to Calivandamar in the spring. Ah well, another storyteller, then. Ollivar headed to the door, and Goodman Bettington let him out.

"That went well, all things considered," the man said, and Ollivar chuckled again.

"Thank you for telling her that white necromancers are on the side of the good."

"And are you, Baron Teedy? On the side of the good?" The goodman gazed at Ollivar levelly.

"I try to be a good lord and to do right by the Valley people," said Ollivar. "I take my responsibilities seriously. I can't think of anything better to do."

"That will have to suffice, then, I suppose," said Goodman Bettington. Then Ollivar was out in the thin snow, and he headed home to the long house. It had grown noticeably colder in the two weeks since he had been turned into a tree, and he trudged through the chill. At least walking quickly warmed him up. The day was a blustery one, and he was glad for the heavy coat he wore. As he walked he thought about all that had happened with Celina; it had been a good meeting, overall, even with the two week interruption of being a tree. This meeting was just to introduce the two of them; the real work lay ahead, when he had the tutor in. She said she could summon hailstorms, and he wondered if she could also summon lightning, as he could with Skyripper. Gloomily he wondered how much one had to pay a wild magician. A great deal, no doubt. Fifty gold a month, maybe more. He wondered how long the girl should be tutored for, a year maybe? Doubtless a good tutor would know quite a few new tricks Celina could learn. The prospect was an exciting one, and Ollivar found himself full of enthusiasm for the future. This first meeting had gone very well. He had survived it, and the girl was listening to him, and she had accepted his gold pin. He felt that boded well for the future.

He came at last to the long house and surprised Scotty, who was bringing in more wood for the fire.

"Baron Teedy!" said Scotty in an excited tone. "She turned you! Welcome back!"

"Good to _be_ back, Scotty. All in all a good first meeting. We'll follow up in the spring, and have her to the long house to show off some of her magic. Her parents can prepare her for this visit, and I'll send you to the Bettington farm a few times over the winter to keep me in the girl's thoughts. A remarkable child, quite opinionated and fierce."

"Star was beside herself. She summoned an angel to turn you back into a man, but the angel said its magic didn't run to such things, and it could be of no assistance. Star tried to have her patrol angel correct the matter, but he said he is a child's angel, not an adult man's, and he could do nothing for you."

They went inside the long house, and Ollivar found he was ravenously hungry. Fortunately the cook had some turkey-stuffed dumplings on the stove, and Ollivar was able to fill his belly with this excellent food.

Star was out in the Valley seeing to the sickly ones, and when she came back that afternoon she told Ollivar some more of the tale. "She raised her hand, and you transformed in an instant into a tree. If I hadn't seen it myself I wouldn't have believed it was you. She was very angry and denounced evil necromancers and evil barons. Her father and mother tried to convince her to turn you back, but she would have none of it. She insisted her father go get his axe and chop you down. Her father refused, and Celina went and got the axe herself and threatened to cut your down, but her father talked her out of this. Goodman Bettington seemed to find it all quite amusing, and his poor wife was beside herself worrying that you were going to be angry when they eventually got you turned back."

Ollivar repeated his feeling that the meeting had gone rather well and that he was satisfied with what he had accomplished. He told Star he had invited Celina and her parents to the long house in the spring to see the girl use her magic and that he intended to hire a tutor for her. "Winter might be a good time for such endeavors, but it's too late in the year to post a call for a wild magician to act as tutor," he said. "I'll have to wait until spring. It might be years before a wild magician answers the call, look at how long it took for you to arrive."

"Yes, wild magicians are rarer than healers, that's a fact," said Star. "Still, I'll bet there are wild magicians out there who teach others of their kind all the new tricks. It's just a matter of finding them. I don't think they have a guild or a school, so it's going to be expensive, because you'll have to spread word through the crier's guild. They're effective but costly."

"Everything is costly," Ollivar grumbled.

"Can you remember anything from your time as a tree?" asked Star.

"No, it's all blank for me. I remember seeing Celina come down the stairs and raise her hand, then I was lying on the floor and being talked to by the goodman. Don't trees age more slowly than animals? Maybe I didn't age during that two weeks."

"Just be glad she eventually turned you back," said Scotty. "It's a dismal time of year to be a tree."

"It's a dismal time of year for anything," said Star. "Except storytelling and eating. I'll bet the art of cooking receives a big boost in the winter."

"Our cook is excellent year-round," said Ollivar confidently. He really did enjoy the cook's confections, and so far she hadn't cooked anything he hadn't liked.

"Hear, hear," said Scotty. "Your wooing Celina may go on for years, Baron Teedy. It may take that long to convince her of your good intentions."

"I think I was lucky to have only been a tree for two weeks," said Ollivar. "She might have refused to ever turn me back, and it would have been up to the two of you to attract another wild magician to the Valley to restore me to myself."

"If that ever happened," said Star.

"Well, we have talked some sense to the girl, and she's amenable to further meetings. That is the best that could have been hoped for. All these little dalliances along the way are unavoidable and even amusing, I think," said Ollivar.

"You have a better sense of humor than do I," said Star. "I would be quite angry, were I you. Your young citizen needs a lesson in civics, or a taste of punishment for attacking the nobility."

"The girl's too young for all that," said Ollivar. "Besides, her story is a compelling one. If I had lost a brother to a necromancer I would be angry about it, myself. We can only try to get her to see a difference between white and black necromancers. She's quite impressed with you, Star, so I invoked your name to get good behavior."

"Yes, people are full of good feeling towards healers," said Star. "I'm glad my reputation served you in good stead. Now, if you're all ready for it, how about a short story?"

They were ready for it.

A week passed. There was a snowstorm that lasted for three days and snowed more than half a meter of snow, and winter officially arrived in the Valley. The citizens dug themselves out and forged trails to each other's farmsteads, and the season of storytelling began in earnest. Ollivar was issued a number of invitations to come to various farmsteads to hear stories, and he accepted as many of these as he could and enjoyed the tales he was told. It was a good way to meet more of his citizens and their children, and he got to sample from many pots as well. Star was also invited to the homes of the Valley folk, and she brushed up on her stories and told more than a few herself. She was in high demand as both healer and storyteller, and she was out for long days, returning to the long house only in the evenings. Ollivar was out most evenings, visiting, so he didn't see much of Star for this week. Scotty was occasionally invited to the homes of some of the younger inhabitants of the Valley and thus wasn't cooped up at the long house _all_ the time. It was a sociable week, and Ollivar was well pleased as how winter in the Valley was turning out.

In the fourth week of Eighter one of Ollivar's patrols stumbled across a large pack of wolves come down from the mountains and already well into the Valley. Ollivar sympathized with the animals, driven down from the mountains by the heavy snow, but he sympathized more with his citizens, and he ordered the patrol to destroy them. There followed a long series of skirmishes between wolves and skeleton warriors, whereupon all the wolves were eventually destroyed. Ollivar ordered the wolves skinned and the skins returned to the long house for processing. A skeleton warrior brought the hides down from the mountain passes where they had been taken, and Ollivar received them at the long house. He arranged for Toci Pandergast, a farmer who was also a tanner, to cure the hides, and then he would have them turned into winter jackets. The biggest one he kept for the floor of the long house, sitting in front of the fireplace to excite comment from guests. There were more than forty hides in all; it had been a very large pack of wolves, or several packs travelling together.

"A pack this large could attack several outlying farms, killing farmers and their children," Scotty said. "Celina wouldn't like killing the animals, I'm sure, but it's for the better of the Valley."

"Wolves are too dangerous to have prowling around the Valley," Ollivar said. "I considered having the patrol drive them back up the pass, but they might just come back, bypassing the patrols and heading straight for the farms."

"You did the right thing, Baron Teedy," said Star. "Forty wolves could kill a lot of people."

"To think that this Valley used to be patrolled by just ten knights," said Ollivar. "They must have been very busy men."

"They patrolled the passes in the winter," said Scotty. "Necromancers didn't come to the barrows then, because the ground is frozen, and it's almost impossible to dig into the barrows. So they didn't have to patrol the barrows once the snow started to fall. There were a couple of winter necromancers, but they were all destroyed. It's harder to fight in the winter; horses have to struggle against the snow, and so do bone men."

"Let's hope we won't have any winter necromancers this winter," said Ollivar.

When Ollivar wasn't occupied with other duties he went out to watch the building of the wall. The ground was frozen solid, but the foundation ditch for the wall had already been dug, and the stonework was being put into place. This work had been going on for months, and about a mile of the wall's foundations had been laid in place. Ollivar examined the stonework and found it reassuringly competent, if a bit crude, and he watched as the skeleton workmen continued to bring blocks of stone down from the ridges on either side of the Valley and fit them into place in the ditch. There were accidents among the workmen every few days, and Ollivar had to replace workmen about once every other week. He didn't dig out new mounds for this, since the ground was frozen, but went into tombs he'd already opened and animated those bones. He'd improved the animation ritual several times, and the skeleton workmen were quite good at their tasks. They chopped out new stone and shaped it and moved it into place expeditiously.

Ollivar felt pride watching the work progress. The snow of course didn't hinder the skeleton workmen much, though the cold made them brittle and more subject to accidents. Children sometimes came from the farmsteads in the Valley to watch the skeleton workmen at their tasks, and Ollivar would talk with these pups as he watched the skeleton workmen himself. In Calivandamar Ollivar didn't have much to do with children except for his sister and her friends, but those were girls with concerns of their own which didn't really include Ollivar. In the Valley Ollivar talked with children fairly frequently and came to like them, and he looked forward to someday having children of his own.

Deena came by the long house to thank Ollivar for the beautiful lavender dress the last caravan to Hopp had brought for her. She was wearing it when she visited, and it was a lovely dress, and Ollivar had the presence of mind to comment on it and thus please her. Ollivar worried about Deena finding her way through the snow, but she said she'd been doing such for many years, and there was nothing to worry about. Ollivar worried about the snow in general. In Calivandamar there were men who removed the heavier snows and dumped them outside the city, but in the Valley of course snow removal was the job of the farmers, or their eldest sons and sometimes daughters. Apparently in the winter the Valley closed down almost completely, and the farmsteads became isolated.

"There's half a meter of new snow on the ground," Ollivar said to Deena. "How do people visit each other?"

"Often they don't visit much in the winter. But this snow has a hard crust on it, and you can walk on it. So people will be visiting from farm to farm, like I'm visiting you today. Alain will be making the rounds, and so will Star. It's when the snow is soft and you sink in that all travel between farmsteads stops, and families are left to their own devices. Then it's good to be from a family that gets along, because your brothers and sisters and parents are all you'll have for weeks at a time."

"In Calivandamar the snow is removed or piled up in vacant lots, and life goes on like usual," said Ollivar. "I suppose it's too much to dig passages in the snow to the surrounding farms."

"That would be too much work," said Deena. "My little brother was asking after you today. He wanted to know if you'd put anyone in the cells lately, and I told him, not that I'd heard of."

Ollivar chuckled. "Children are mindful of punishments," he commented. "Since they're punished themselves from time to time, they like hearing of others meeting the same fate."

Deena laughed. "He also asked me if I was going to marry you."

"What did you tell him?" Ollivar prompted.

"I told him that that was up to you," she said.

Ollivar thought this was as good a time as any and excused himself. He went to his room and retrieved a delicate silver necklace that had come in on the caravan from Hopp. He kept this in his fist and returned to Deena, saying, "I had the caravan master pick up something from Hopp, for you."

"A surprise? I love surprises!" she said.

Ollivar opened his fist and revealed the necklace with its little angel pendant. "I want you to be my lover and my friend, Deena," he said. "I want to take you to wife, in the spring."

She looked at the necklace and then at him, and she said, "I would be pleased to be your betrothed, Ollivar."

He leaned near her and kissed her on the mouth, and she returned the kiss with some heat, and he found himself kissing her even harder. Then he fumbled the necklace onto her neck, and she praised the little angel and said it would be a lovely addition to her jewelry case.

"I have very little jewelry," she said, "So this is most welcome."

"I'm glad you like it."

"Now I will become your lover," she said in a hot rush.

"First, lunch," said Ollivar, and he went and got them both bowls of turkey soup, which they ate with pleasant conversation. In truth he was simmering with desire, desire to have her and to take her to bed, desire to take her to wife. The only other beauty Ollivar knew was Star, who didn't excite him the way Deena did. He wanted to get his hands on her, and he enjoyed this feeling as he ate his soup. As he finished he said, "Deena, I want you," and she said,

"I want you, too."

He took her by the hand and led her to his room, and closed the door behind them. She looked nervous, and he kissed her long and heatedly and fumbled with her dress. She helped him get it off and set it on a side table. He whipped his own clothes off in a hurry, throwing them about the room and laughing, and she chuckled at his antics and hugged him tightly. After that things warmed up nicely, and the two of them made love.

After Deena left, Ollivar sat at the table talking with Scotty and Star.

"So you've given her the silver necklace," said Star. "That's a big step."

"I've known she was the one for me since I met her," said Ollivar. "She's always made my heart beat faster."

"I'm surprised no man has given you the silver," Scotty said to Star. "You're old enough."

Star smiled. "I wouldn't accept it if one did," she said. "I take women for my lovers."

Ollivar saw a wounded look go across Scotty's face, and in that instant he knew the boy had fallen for Star and had been slowly working his way toward moving on her. They got on so well, it seemed natural.

"There are many women like that in Calivandamar," said Ollivar. "I don't know about here in the Valley."

"There are one or two here in the Valley, so far," said Star. "You mustn't be surprised, the two of you. You must have wondered why I'm not married. Well, now you know."

"Some people don't like homosexuals," Ollivar said thoughtfully, even as he asked himself what he thought of this. He'd never run into one before, so this was new to him. He found he didn't really care who Star slept with, it seemed like her business. She was old enough to know her own mind and to choose her own partners. He wondered which girls in the Valley she had her eye on and wondered how old they were. How would the Valley respond to knowing their healer was a girl-lover?

"Some don't, but I find it's not many who have this outlook," said Star. "Most people just don't care, or they feel it's my business and not theirs. I've been threatened a few times, but only fools would seriously threaten a healer with a powerful patron."

"No men for you, eh, Star?" Scotty said sadly.

"When the time comes for children I'll need a good man, Scotty," she said. "I do want children. With my patron I'd be mad not to have a couple of little ones."

Scotty nodded but seemed dejected.

"I have a number of girlfriends in the capital," said Star. "Come spring they can come and visit me. By then I'll have my own house, I hope, and I'll be able to keep proper company. For now, you two boys will do."

"Certainly your stories are good to hear," Scotty said. A hangdog expression had come over his face, and Ollivar felt sorry for him. He wondered why Star had waited so long to tell them her news and why she had been so friendly to Scotty if she knew he was falling for her. Unless, of course, she hadn't realized it and was just learning the fact.

"We welcome your company for as long as we have you," said Ollivar. "The long house will be an emptier place when you move out to your own house."

"I've walked to many of the farmsteads in the Valley, and I think a central location would be best," she said. "There's the Whimple farmstead that's abandoned, and I think maybe if that were fixed up and made a bit larger it would be a good home."

"I'll talk to Folquet and see who owns it now that the Whimples have moved back to Hopp," said Ollivar.

"Thank you," said Star.

"So she took the silver with good grace, Deena I mean," said Scotty.

"Yes, I think she was hoping for it, really," said Ollivar. "I just felt I didn't want to leave her dangling for very long, she might take eyes for someone else."

"Surely she's not that feckless," said Star.

"I just didn't want to lose my chance," said Ollivar.

"You've been courting for months now, it was obvious the two of you were good for each other," said Scotty. His unhappy look was deepening, and Ollivar guessed he had been thinking of the silver for Star, himself. He thought of Scotty as a friend as well as a servant, and it pained him to see the young man in such a state.

"There's no one else for me," said Ollivar. "I've noticed a few other girls in the Valley, but Deena captured my heart early."

"I know what you mean," said Scotty. "Sometimes women do that."

"I know a good story about two lovers, but it's a sad tale and a rather long one," said Star.

"Do tell it," said Scotty, looking at Ollivar for approval.

"Yes, I have no plans for this afternoon," said Ollivar. "Tell us this sad story."

So she did.

Another week passed, and Deena came back to the long house several times, and she and Ollivar made love. Ollivar had been infatuated with a few girls in the past but had never known the strong emotions he felt now, and he clutched Deena tightly and poured out his heart to her and told her he wanted her forever.

"That's good, because I'm not leaving you," she said. "Forever is how long you've got me."

They talked for hours in Ollivar's bed, about their families and the things they wanted to do in life. Ollivar was full of plans for the Valley, and Deena wanted at least three children. Ollivar felt his heart fill to bursting with this talk, but secretly he wondered how long he really had before he ended up on the stake, with Lord Erol's idiot heir or when Lord Erol himself turned on him. He might not have that long. Whatever he was going to accomplish in life, he'd better accomplish it young, because long odds said he was going to burn. He of course did not mention this sort of thing to Deena, who didn't need to hear it. With the original White Necromancer it was a healer who did him in, but Ollivar had his own healer now, and they got on well. It would be something else, this time around. He couldn't shake the feeling that Lord Erol's fool of a son was going to be his doom. The boy was as reactionary a thinker as you ever cared to see, not an original thought in his head. Maybe that would even out as he grew older, or maybe not. Some fools stayed fools for life, Ollivar was pretty certain.

Star and Scotty didn't comment much on his new relations with Deena. Their situation was a little strange, with him being the baron and their being the hired help. Ollivar felt like he was friends with both of them, but it was a bracing sort of friendship. They were at ease with each other, but Star and Scotty were ever mindful that Ollivar was baron, and they never called him 'Ollivar,' as Deena did. Sometimes Ollivar felt this was a prison more bitter than any cell, being unable to be truly relaxed in each other's company. For the most part, though, he enjoyed their company in the long house and was convinced it was going to be as pleasant a winter as it could be, given that they were forced to stay indoors for long stretches and given that it was freezing cold outside. Scotty kept the fire going and hauled in the firewood for Ollivar's and Star's rooms, and together they kept out the winter chill.

During the last week of Eighter something strange and disturbing happened. It snowed another twenty centimeters, and Star told a very strange story about angels killing masses of people in a fit of rage. She didn't know if these were ancestors who were slain, if the story was that old, or if it was modern people who were destroyed, but either way the slaughter was terrible. The story weighed on Ollivar; he always thought of the angels as saviors, not killers, though he knew of course that angels wielded flaming swords. He began to dream of fiery angels cutting down women and children in their righteous anger. Knights in gleaming armor rode against them only to be annihilated, and sorcerers summoned spells which broke on their winged bodies. Slowly these dreams transformed, into a burning angel which was chained with pale violet chains of light. It threw back its head and screamed, but the chains held it fast. It was surrounded by strange men who were black-skinned and armed with swords of blue-black steel, and it could not break free. It was dragged into an underground chamber and into the center of a magic circle, where it paced back and forth as the black men made conjurations and spells. Then they sealed the angel into the underground room with large stones, and that was the end of the dream.

Ollivar told Deena about these dreams, and she said maybe he was having a vision inspired by Star's story.

"But it's not like Star's story, not really," said Ollivar. "In her story the angels are victorious and slay the men, and in my dreams the angel is defeated. The angel feels close, in the dream, like it was right here in my room."

"Ask Star about it," said Deena. "She knows angels better than anyone else in the Valley. Maybe her patron is trying to talk to you, and she can help."

Upon strength of this recommendation Ollivar told Star about the dreams.

"This was since I told my old story?" she said. "Perhaps an angel needs your help, Baron Teedy. It wouldn't be the first time angels have appeared to people in dreams, seeking assistance. It's hard to know if the dream is a metaphor or an actual fact, but I can talk to my angels and see what they have to say."

"If you would," he said.

Star drew a magic circle on the floor of the big room and summoned a minor angel and spoke with it in a language Ollivar had never heard before, a lilting and lovely tongue that made him think of starlight. The conversation was a lengthy one, and Ollivar had lunch while Star carried on, and Scotty fed the fire in the big room and was available to be useful, if needed. Eventually Star finished her talk with the angel, and it disappeared from the circle.

"That was Manochmiel, a minor angel under Rachmiel, my patron," she said. "She said that you should follow the dreams, Baron Teedy, that an angel is trying to speak to you. My story apparently enabled this to happen. She didn't know what the angel wants or why it is communicating with you and not me."

"Mysteries," Ollivar declared. "Very well, I will try to talk with this angel, in my dreams, if I can maintain my sense of presence there."

The dreams of the angel continued, growing more desperate, and Ollivar awoke one night when Deena wasn't there, feeling ill with fear. The angel wanted him to go out to the barrows and dig. He grumbled and put on his clothes and a heavy coat and boots and brought twenty bone lords with him, and some skeleton workmen. He knocked on Star's door and was relieved when she answered, apparently not having gone to bed yet.

"The angel has appeared to me in a dream and asked me to go out to the barrows and dig. Care for a walk?"

"Give me a moment," she said and got into her own heavy coat and boots. In a few minutes she was ready to go.

The two of them left the long house with the bone lords and skeleton workmen, which had brought pick-axes and shovels. One skeleton workman carried a lantern. It was night, but Ollivar could see the long house because he had dumped several logs in the fireplace, and the glow of the fire shone in the windows. He and Star walked the two miles through the heavy new snow to the barrows, not speaking much as they went. Finally they stopped on top of a mound.

"Where did the angel want you to go?" said Star.

"Out into the barrows. It didn't say exactly where."

"Is it talking to you now?"

"Not that I can hear."

Star turned around to be sure she could see the tiny, distant light from the long house. "Angels are bonded with the stars, Baron Teedy," she said. "Look at the stars, and find the one that belongs to this angel of yours."

Ollivar tilted his head back and scanned the heavens for a long time, from star to star, until a bright red star caught his attention. He stared at it, and there was a strong feeling of the angel.

"I think I've got it," he said.

"Now let's walk toward that one," she said.

They set off north and didn't walk more than half a mile when Ollivar said, "This mound here." He walked up onto a mound, and his creations swarmed around the two of them.

"Are you sure?" said Star. "This mound doesn't seem any different from the other mounds."

"It's this one," he said again. "There's an angel under this snow and earth. Let me get the workmen to digging." He gave the commands, and the skeleton workmen scraped the snow away from one side of the mound and set to digging with the pick-axes. The steel thunked into the frozen earth and barely made a dent, and progress was slow. While the workmen dug Ollivar got on top of the mound and paced back and forth. The mound was a little bigger than usual, ten meters long and four meters wide, and it was about a meter higher than the mounds around it. So it would be larger inside than the typical mound, too. It was hard to say why Ollivar was so certain there was an angel inside the mound; he just knew it to be true, a tugging on the back of his heart.

Both moons were up, and there was a soft glow over the snowy landscape that let the two of them see pretty well. They had nothing to do but walk short circuits to stamp their feet and keep warm. This went on for hours, as the skeletons dug away. It was now mid-night, and they couldn't see the light from the long house. Fortunately their footsteps were still visible in the snow, and they'd just walk along their tracks to return to the long house. Ollivar looked up and saw that there were no clouds in the sky, so they should have moonlight the whole night through.

At last the skeleton workmen got a hole in the mound that was big enough for Ollivar to get his head into, and he looked around inside the mound. Right away he saw a burning shape ten feet below him on the floor of the chamber. It was man-shaped but taller, and it had wings sprouting from its back.

"Are you the angel from my dreams?" Ollivar said to the thing, and it looked up at him.

"Necromancer, you are the maker of magic?"

"I am."

"And the healer?"

"She is here to assist me with setting you free."

"At last," it said.

"Let me see," said Star, and Ollivar popped his head out and allowed her to look in the hole. "Angel, what is your name?" she asked, and it said something Ollivar couldn't hear. "Kotumiel," she murmured. "Not a familiar name."

"What does its name matter?" said Ollivar.

"Some angels do the bidding of hell. This angel might have been chained because it was serving the wrong interests, in which case it will kill us if we free it. Which star did you see?"

Ollivar directed her to the red star, and she said, "Red stars are blood stars, they are warrior signs. This is a warrior angel. In your dreams, did it call out the name of Michael or Gabriel?"

"Not that I remember," said Ollivar.

"Think _hard,_ Baron Teedy. This may be our lives we're discussing here."

Ollivar thought it over. "No, I'm pretty sure it didn't call out those names."

"How about the names of demons or devils? Do you know those names?"

"I'm familiar with those names. It didn't say them, I'm certain of it."

"Perhaps it's a celestial angel, unaffiliated with heaven or hell."

"I didn't know angels could do that," said Ollivar.

"The celestial angels have little to do with human affairs, and they're not often summoned because they don't know much of interest to mortals. They have to do with the deep workings of the universe. I have to summon an angel, and that means I need to get inside this mound to have a place to draw the circle."

"Well, let's move aside, and I'll have the workmen gouge us out a hole big enough to enter the mound."

They moved aside, and Ollivar gave the commands, and the pick-axes fell once more on the small hole in the side of the mound. The ground was like cement, it was so hard, and the blows of the workmen barely made a dent in it. It took hours for the workmen to dig a hole big enough to allow Star to enter the mound. She slipped inside and dropped down to the floor five feet below and stood well away from the chained angel, which watched her in silence.

"I need to summon one of my assistants," she said to the angel. "We need to determine whether you serve heaven or hell."

"I serve heaven," said the angel.

"That's what the fallen would say, too," said Star tightly.

"Nevertheless," said the angel.

Star took a piece of chalk out of a pocket and drew a magic circle on the floor of the stone tomb. She worked deftly, with a sure hand, and soon the circle was complete. Now she said a long incantation, and an angel, smaller than the chained one, appeared in her circle. It said something in what appeared to be the same language Ollivar had heard Star's angels using before, and Star and the angel fell to conversing. This went on for a few minutes, then Star's angel turned toward the chained angel and said a very, very long incantation. Ollivar was interested in this at first but slowly grew bored and then restless. He slipped inside the stone tomb and dropped down to the floor and stood just outside Star's summoning circle.

"If you break my circle my angel will leave," she said to him.

"I know that," he said. "It's just that whatever it's doing is taking a long time."

"It's determining the allegiances of this chained angel," she said.

To this Ollivar said nothing. The inside of the stone tomb didn't seem as cold as the outside; certainly there was no breeze here. He wondered if the burning body of the angel gave off some heat to keep this place warmer than the outside. Now that he was looking around he saw a single burial in this tomb; a large man's skeleton lay under the chained angel. There were items piled up around the skeleton, but Ollivar couldn't get a good look at these. He had brought some torches, or more accurately he had a skeleton workman bring some torches, but he didn't want to go close to the chained angel to wave a torch around. It was wearing a scabbard at his waist, and doubtless it had a flaming sword which it could use to chop Ollivar's head off.

Star's small angel seemed even smaller now that Ollivar was in here near it, and he realized with a start that it was a child angel. He couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl, but it was about ten years old and somewhat pudgy. But it had little wings sprouting from its back, and a glowing cowl over its face, and now that he was concentrating on it he could tell that its voice was that of a child. Well, Star's patron was an angel of children, so he supposed it made sense that it had child angels in its employ. All the children who died before their time, their souls had to go _somewhere_ , didn't they? Still, it made him nervous that this angel was so young. Was it truly competent?

The incantation came to an abrupt halt, and there was a pause while Star said something to the child angel, then it spoke to her in turn. She turned to Ollivar.

"The chained angel serves heaven," she said. "It should be safe to release it."

Ollivar walked up to the chained angel's magic circle and said, "Who chained you here, angel? _Why_ were you chained?"

"The black men chained me here, millennia ago, to guard this tomb of a saint among their people. I have been here four thousand years. The black men seem to be long gone. It is time to leave."

"Are the black men our ancestors?" said Ollivar.

"I don't know if they are your ancestors or not," said the angel. "I don't know what has been happening in the world since I was imprisoned here. You look different from the black men, but so long as you free me I care not about your looks."

Star said something in the angel's tongue, and it said something brief in response. She nodded. "He says he won't attack us if we free him," she said. "It's the best we can do."

"Well, then, let's break this circle and let him out," said Ollivar. He examined the circle that held the angel trapped. It was made of stone and set into the stone floor of the tomb; it was quite solid. Ollivar sent up a command to the skeleton workmen, and one of them dropped a pick-axe through the hole into the tomb. He went over and got the pick-axe and brought it back to the chained angel's circle. "Here we go, then," he said and swung the pick-axe. It struck the stone of the circle and rebounded, only chipping it a little bit. "Damn," he said.

"This circle is meant to last," said the angel.

Star said something to her child angel, and it disappeared from its summoning circle. "I guess you'll have to bash it until it breaks, Baron Teedy," she said.

Ollivar hauled off on the pick-axe and gave it a mighty swing, and it put a crack in the stone circle. He rained blows upon the circle, and eventually it cracked and broke. The chained angel gave a great sigh of relief and stepped out of the circle.

"I have waited forever for release," it said. "Now I can return to my brethren in heaven."

"Good journey to you," said Star. Ollivar didn't want to let the angel go, but he didn't want to try to detain it and risk making an enemy of it, either. It? Him? Well, whichever it was, it was leaving now. It stretched up to its full seven foot height and spread its wings and folded them around itself, and then there was a flash of starlight, and it was gone.

The tomb was dark without the light of the burning angel in it, but a shaft of starlight shone down through the hole in the side of the mound. Ollivar walked over to it and gave some commands, and soon a torch was dropped down the hole, and a tinderbox. Ollivar spent some time lighting a torch and then took it over to the magic circle that had held the angel. There was a single skeleton within it, and there were pottery bowls and small statuettes about thirty centimeters high, scattered around the skeleton. There was no gold and no gemstones, but the style of the statuettes and pottery was strange, and Ollivar knew they were valuable.

"What do you think, Star?" he asked. "This dead saint doesn't need these things anymore. Any purpose they had for him was long ago fulfilled. The angel said it was stuck here for four thousand years. That's a long time to be imprisoned. They should be holding a party in heaven tonight, to welcome him back."

"I don't like raiding the dead," said Star. "I know people have been raiding the stone tombs forever, but I feel like the dead should rest, with their things."

"You've not mentioned this before."

"You've not asked."

Ollivar looked at the treasures surrounding the saint. "All right, then, we'll compromise. I'll take half the pottery and statuettes and leave the other half here to keep the old man company. Or old lady, I didn't think to ask which it was."

Star said nothing to this, and Ollivar picked up a couple of pottery jars and took them over to the hole and handed them up to the skeleton workmen. He made several more such trips, with more jars and some statuettes, until he was satisfied with his take for the night. Then he boosted Star out of the hole, and she in turn helped him climb out. The moonlight was still strong outside, and they were able to follow their footsteps in the snow back to the long house. It had been an adventuresome night, and as they took their treasures inside Ollivar was overwhelmed with exhaustion. He had released an angel from bondage, who knew what that would lead to? He supposed angels could be grateful, couldn't they? Kotumiel was this angel's name. He'd remember. Perhaps they'd have need of a warrior angel, some day.

Ollivar and Star told Scotty and Folquet about their adventure with the angel, and both of these individuals wanted to see the treasures that had been recovered from the saint's tomb. The pottery was folded over itself in a way that was unusual, and it was carved with images of birds and animals and flowers. The pieces were big, and Ollivar didn't know how the caravan would get them to market in Calivandamar. Tying them to a horse seemed a good way to break them. Perhaps he'd have to just keep these in the long house, as an oddity and a prize from the barrows.

The statuettes were more transportable, as they were made of basalt and were sturdier than the pottery. They were of people, thin people wearing strange clothing whose faces were cleft in half in a way that was disturbing to the eye. This was a style Ollivar had never seen before, something directly from the ancestors that had been lost to modern people. He wondered how much one of these statuettes would fetch in the city. Certainly collectors should like such things, as reminders of the olden days. The nobility would be keen on owning these statuettes. He had six statuettes and four pieces of pottery and now cursed himself for not taking everything. He had acceded to Star's wishes, and he supposed that was the proper thing to do, but still, he had a castle to build, and a town, and all that cost money. The more he raided the stone tombs, the faster he would have the funds for his building projects. Certainly he wasn't going to make the money by taxation!

The month of Eighter passed by, and Niner was ushered in, and Deena continued her visits to the long house, and the two of them continued their lovemaking. Things grew tender between them, and they talked of spring time and summer heat and the family they wanted to start.

"Not that winter is bad," said Deena. "It's cold, and it's hard to get around because of the snow, but the storytelling is good, and it's a good time for cooking."

"My cook is busy all day long in her kitchen," said Ollivar. "She comes up with these elaborate dishes, especially pies and pastries. I think it's a way of defying the winter. By spending all day in the hot kitchen, she's pretending it's summer."

Deena laughed at this. "My little brother wants to be a baron when he grows up," she said. "That's what he said at dinner last night. He wants to be a baron and raid the stone tombs."

"Well, it can happen, if you're lucky," said Ollivar. "In my case I got clever and found an ancient library that everyone thought was lost. There was a curse on it, so that neither man nor woman would be able to find the place. But I was neither man nor woman, I was a boy, and I slipped right in past the curse and took up residence. That was where I found the book of necromancy that got me started down this path."

"Didn't that book have a patron?"

"Yes, but I didn't pledge to the demon of the book. I didn't read the most powerful spells, and I began rewriting the lesser spells almost right away. It was like I just had it in me to be a white necromancer. Perhaps one of us is fated to come along every five hundred years."

"Maybe there have been other white necromancers, but they've ended up on the stake."

This unnerved Ollivar, who said, "Perhaps. Mayhaps they never had the chance to declare themselves. At least I got farther than they did."

"Does it upset you to talk of these things?"

"Not so much," he lied. "Ending up on the stake is a possibility in my occupation."

Deena was silent for a while, then she said, "But you now have a healer on your side, that puts odds in your favor, doesn't it?"

"It helps, certainly. It looks like I won't share the fate of Stony Brook, though Star is a fledgling healer and could conceivably be overruled by more senior members of her guild."

By this time Deena had been at the long house several nights and had been invited to listen to some of Star's stories, which she found enjoyable.

"Star seems to like you well enough. I don't think she'd just let them haul you off to the stake without a fight."

"And now I have a warrior angel I may be able to call on for assistance," said Ollivar. "A fiery angel with a flaming sword is a stunning sight, and I suspect that healers would be impressed with such an ally."

"You keep ending up in the barrows, finding unusual tombs and odd burials," said Deena. "I wonder if your destiny lies in the barrows."

"The barrows are how everyone knows Peach Orchard Valley, that's for sure," said Ollivar. "Perhaps I'll have a painter come out and do a painting of the inside of a mound, or of some of my skeleton workmen, or some such thing. To commemorate the Valley lifestyle."

"Well, all your bone men come from the barrows, and most of your funds come from them as well, so they've become essential to your leadership."

"Yes, I suppose they have. I wish that the magic for talking to the dead wasn't so tainted with evil influences. I'd like to talk to that saint, and to the lord, and to the lovers, and learn their stories. It seems like I should be able to rewrite the spell, but that takes research, and that means I need a library. And I don't mean the ten or twelve books I've bought through the caravans."

"Do you want a boy first, or a girl first?" asked Deena.

"I would be happy with either. A happy, healthy baby is all I ask for."

"And at least three."

"Let's see what you're saying after the first one," said Ollivar. "You might settle for one, after that experience."

She smiled. "With Star here to watch over the birth I have no doubt it will go well."

"I should raid the ancient library for books and bring them out here to the Valley," said Ollivar. "I wonder if I could talk Folquet into taking extra steeds to the capital next spring and load them down with books. I could use a proper library."

"Are you ever going to hand that old library over to Lord Erol's sorcerer?" Deena asked.

"I should, and I keep thinking about doing it, but there are a number of books out of there that I want for myself. A good magical library is tremendously expensive, and every tome I can take from the ancient library will save me a small fortune. I once priced magical tomes in the capital, and the least expensive book they had, a beginner's work, was a hundred and fifty pieces of gold. The books in that library are eight centuries old, but the magic in them is as good now as it was then. Blast, I don't know. Mayhaps I should just buy all new books, that include what has been learned over the last eight centuries. I can't help but think it's an advantage using magic that has been long forgotten. No one knows its secrets anymore."

"If I conceive soon, the baby will be a summer babe," said Deena. "That seems auspicious. So get to it, Baron Teedy, and seed this child!"

Ollivar laughed. "I think we'll just have to trust the fates in that regard," he said. "Now. We should discuss names."

Scotty had put in requests with Alain de Greyhaven for song at the long house, and Ollivar paid well, so about once every other week Alain visited them with a flute, or a harmonica, or harp, and played both popular songs that he learned from the caravan men and some of the dozen or so songs that originated in the Valley. Alain had a repertoire of some seventy or eighty songs, varying in length from what were called "snaps," at just a couple of stanzas, to very long lays that went on for fifty stanzas, and everything in between. The inhabitants of the long house had found that a good way to do it was to have Alain play a few fast tunes, then for Star to tell a short tale, then more music, then another tale, and so on, so that it was a lively evening of song and story, with plenty of peach brandy and blackberry wine to take off the winter chill and put everyone in a good mood. Deena was invited to these events and always came, and the five of them had a good time of it.

During the second week of Niner Alain came with a harp and a flute and played a few opening songs, and Star told a story, then Alain said: "Now, for something very special that I've been working on for a while. This one is called, 'The Lay of Ollivar Teedy.'" He set down the flute and took up the harp and strummed and sang and played this song:

Once was a man named Stony Brook

A man whose life the healers took

Centuries passed, and he left an heir

Named Ollivar Teedy, in Calivandamar

Ollivar found himself an ancient library

And discovered old books of vile necromancy.

Just as Stony Brook had done,

He cleaned up the spells, one by one.

He commanded potent magic, to kill or to heal,

And devoted himself to the common weal.

He cured Lord Erol's heir of a broken back

And was granted a baron's title to a distant track.

The new baron's lands were in Peach Orchard Valley.

He set off for that place, for to his fortunes tally.

Along the way he was beset by highwaymen;

By force of his magic he did them in.

Now, Peach Orchard Valley's a farming place

A hundred families spread across its space.

It's at the end of the road, hard on the barrows;

Digging the mounds is bred into their marrow.

Baron Teedy busied himself raising bone men

Five hundred skeleton warriors from the barrows he won.

He sent them to patrolling his lands near and far,

Watching for wolves and necromancers barred.

At the mouth of the Valley he raised a stone wall

With an army of skeletons working all hours;

Five kilometers long this wall stood fast,

To hold out the Valley's enemies to the last.

Then Lord Erol came to see his works;

For days, about the Valley he lurked,

Checking up on this white necromancer

Unlike his ancestor, not much of a dancer.

Lord Erol declared Baron Teedy untainted,

A worthy young noble, whose magic he painted

As clean and wholesome, good for the land;

Fit to take lady Deena's hand.

Lord Erol packed up and the Valley decamped,

But a thousand questions he left behind.

Will this white necromancer at last go sour,

Blotted in spirit and shattered in mind?

Alain finished strumming, and there were cheer and clapping by Ollivar and everyone else, and Star let out some wolf whistles by placing two fingers in her mouth and blowing.

"Well done," said Scotty, and Alain gave a little bow and set down his harp.

"Someone had to be the first to write the lay of the new white necromancer," he said. "I'm sure they're composing their own versions in Calivandamar, but I thought the Valley should have a special song for this occasion."

"Your song has flair," said Ollivar. "Though the ending is a bit dark."

"That's the talk here in the Valley; surely you've heard, Baron Teedy? Everyone thinks you'll go sour and end up killing us all. It's fashionable to talk this way, even among your supporters. When your patrol killed those wolves last month there was a momentary blink in opinions, but that has already turned around. People are afraid of the skeleton warriors, and they are afraid of you."

Ollivar sighed. "I suppose it'll take killing a necromancer to convince people that I'm for the good," he said. "And even that may not do it."

"Be of good cheer, Baron Teedy," said Alain. "The Valley is conservative in its opinions, and slow to change. You are doing everything that can be done, what more can be asked of you? People are curious about this town you want to build, and excited to have craftsmen and artisans and professionals coming to the Valley. Ply this excitement, if you would win the hearts of the people. They're ready to listen to you."

"You sing beautifully, Alain," said Deena. "You always do a good job, but this song seems to be dear to you."

"The white necromancer is the Valley's own," said Alain. "With this song I intend to make my mark on the capital in the spring. People will be naturally curious about a song for the white necromancer from someone who has met him. I will have a natural claim to the subject matter."

"And what is the Valley saying about Deena?" asked Ollivar. "If I am to go sour and slay everyone any day now, what do people make of our engagement?"

"They like the fact that you've chosen a Valley woman for your beloved," said Alain, as he picked up a flute and fingered it. "I think people are surprised that Deena said yes to a necromancer. There are nasty little whispers along that line, but these are kept in private and not bandied around troubadours so much. They say you are a handsome couple, and I think most people wish you happiness and good luck."

"Yes?" said Ollivar. "I have been getting congratulations from people from time to time as they come to have me hear their troubles. For such a spread-out place, news seems to travel swiftly here."

"Hah!" said Deena. "You'd think we were just one big family, the way news spreads here. The gossips are especially bad in the winter!"

"She's right," said Alain. "People like having a baron in the Valley, it gives them something to talk about. And having a necromancer for baron is even more enticing. You're quite the subject of chatter, Baron Teedy."

Ollivar chuckled at this. "So far it's been an exciting year," he said. "Lots has happened. Personally I think it's been a good year in the barrows, there have been three exciting tombs found so far."

"Three?" said Alain. "I know of the lord's tomb, and the lovers. What is the third?"

So Ollivar and Star told of their adventure with the angel Kotumiel, to which Alain shook his head. "This angel didn't say why it appealed to you of all people, Baron Teedy?" he asked.

"Not really. It was a rather taciturn angel," said Ollivar.

"No disrespect to you, healer," said Alain, inclining his head to Star, "But there are many songs which suggest it's best to be suspicious of the motives of angels."

"That is just old wives' reckoning," said Star firmly.

"Nonetheless, you would be wise to seek more information about this Kotumiel," said Alain. "See if anyone else has heard of it before, or knows anything about it."

"My own angels vouched for him," said Star. "That's good enough for me."

"Perhaps I will have Folquet go to the sorcerer's academy in Calivandamar and see what they make of this Kotumiel. And the healer's academy as well. See what is said about it."

"That kind of research is expensive, hundreds of pieces of gold," said Star. "I'm not trying to discourage you, Baron Teedy, but you should know what you're getting in for."

"Everything is taking place in the spring, I have half a dozen items on my list for the spring," complained Ollivar. "We may all freeze to death before then."

Scotty laughed. "This has been a heavy winter for snow, but it has been a warm season," he said. "Three years ago, it was _cold_."

Ollivar tugged his chin and said slowly, "This Valley is blessed," he said. "I have met tanners and carpenters and teachers and caravan men. There are vintners and teachers and farmers. There are seamstresses and weavers and tailors here. All busy with winter activities now, and contributing to the well-being of this extraordinary place."

Alain nodded. "I'll sing a winter song," he said, and he played a fast tune on the flute and then broke into song. It was a popular tune that had been around for many years, and everyone erupted into song and stamped their feet, and Alain belted out the words and played the flute and danced for their pleasure. It was the end of conversation, and the rest of the evening was spent in merriment and the drinking of good alcohol, and a fine time was had by all.

Toward the middle of Niner one of Ollivar's patrols in the barrows rousted Ollivar from his lunch by reporting that there were men among the barrows. There was a group of six men, in all, three of them dressed in chainmail and carrying weapons and three in leather mail with shovels and picks. They were digging into a barrow when the patrol came upon them. The bone lord in charge of the patrol sent Ollivar images of the six men and asked what to do with them.

"Speak for me," said Ollivar, and the bone lord opened its bony jaw and let Ollivar's voice flow out. "My name is Baron Teedy, I am the lord of the barrows hereabouts. Who are you men, and what are you doing in my barrow lands?"

"These are no man's lands," said the tallest of the six men, who was mailed. "We are all poor men who are seeking barrow gold to pay our debts. We are here from Hopp."

"These barrows contain the evil dead, and there are not many of you to see to them. You don't have a white horse, and could let a soul screamer out of these tombs."

"What the deuce do we need a white horse for?" said one of the leather-mailed men.

"We don't require anyone's permission to raid these barrows," said the tall fellow. "We have the blessings of the lords of Hopp, that's all we need."

"Peach Orchard Valley has its own lord now," said Ollivar. "Do you have magic weapons?"

"We can handle a few bone men or jangling men," said the tallest. "Soul screamers are just children's stories."

"If you let out a soul screamer you'll all be killed, and it will come and haunt my Valley, until I can destroy it," said Ollivar. "My patrol will see you back toward Hopp. Don't be caught here again without my consent."

"We'll complain!" howled one of the leather-clad men.

"Complain all you like, the other barons will uphold my claim to the barrows," said Ollivar. He wasn't sure this was true, but he felt he had a strong claim that would stand up in court. After all, it was his patrols that ran in the barrows, not knights from Hopp.

Ollivar gave commands to his bone lord and the skeleton warriors, and they drew swords and hustled the men off the mound and back toward Hopp. The men complained, and one of them was foolish enough to issue threats, which got him a slice on the cheek by the bone lord's sword. The patrol moved the men five kilometers toward Hopp, where Ollivar told them,

"If my patrols discover you back in the barrows, they'll kill you."

The men said nothing as the patrol abandoned them and returned to the barrows.

Scotty had been tending the fire in the main room during all this, and he said, "It's very unusual for treasure hunters to come raiding the tombs in the dead of winter. They must be desperate."

"I just wonder how many tombs they'd opened already before my patrol came upon them," said Ollivar. "It's gold and gems in those mounds, an uncommon fortune for common men. Surely they have enough to satisfy any debts they could reasonably have run up."

"Some men spend money like fools, and get themselves in great trouble," said Scotty. "That even happens here in the Valley. We've had a couple of families borrow large sums from other families, and when they can't repay it they simply abandon their farmstead and move away to some other place to do it all over again."

"Too bad foolishness can't be regulated," said Ollivar.

"It can be punished, though," said Scotty. "It is up to the baron to make certain that debtors pay up and don't take advantage of honest folk."

"Aye," said Ollivar. "It is. Think these thieves will be back?"

"If they didn't have a white horse they're a danger to our Valley," said Scotty. "If a soul screamer got out it could destroy whole caravans before anyone noticed it was loose. It could float its way here into the Valley and wipe out half the citizens before it was stopped. These thieves are risking our lives as well as their own. I don't know if they'll be back, but it was imperative that they be stopped, Baron Teedy."

"Now they know where my patrol is running their route, they could just go farther north and dig," said Ollivar. "Up by the saint's tomb, beyond the reach of my patrols."

"Every year there are treasure hunters in the barrows. They come from all over Swan Domain. We are on the caravan road, so they just follow that until they come to barrows, then they start to dig. Every few years the evil dead were released from the stone tombs, and the knights had to ride them down. It's fortunate that soul screamers are rare, or the Valley would long since have been wiped out."

"I need magical weapons, is what I need," said Ollivar. "To destroy soul screamers."

"Perhaps you need a patrol made up entirely of magic weapon wielders," said Scotty.

"So far almost an entire year has gone by, and I've only found Skyripper," said Ollivar. "That doesn't bode well for finding magic weapons in the tombs."

"There's always next year, Baron Teedy," said Scotty. "Have faith."

"I can't even imagine how much magical weapons _cost_ ," said Ollivar. "The sorcerers must manufacture them new, but the expense must be astronomical. Amounts that make even lords cringe. Of course you'd be getting the latest in magical techniques that way, as opposed to these old weapons whose secrets have been well plumbed."

"Are you unhappy with your magic sword, Baron Teedy?" asked Scotty.

"No. Just musing. I never worried so much about money until I became a petty noble. I had little, I was a careful shepherd of what I had, and I was happy. But petty nobles need things, and all those things have to be paid for."

"The curse upon us all," said Scotty.

"I suppose so," said Ollivar. "I don't like the thought of these men mucking about in the stone tombs, stirring up jangling men and shadow lords and soul screamers and spirits know what all. Why now, in the winter? Their speaker said they were poor men seeking to repay debts, but chainmail costs good money, and so do their weapons. Mayhaps they were funded by one of the lords of Hopp, who will now have occasion to be unhappy with me now that I've put an end to his raiding the barrows. But I think my claim to the barrows is solid. I just hope this doesn't come down to a lawsuit, there goes more money."

"If you start worrying too much about money you'll become a mess of nerves," said Scotty.

"Yes, I suppose so, but it's hard not to become obsessed with the costs of things."

To this Scotty said nothing. Ollivar ordered his bone lord and skeleton warriors to resume patrol duties, and they complied. He also gave the order that if they came upon these men again they were to kill them. He couldn't afford to issue false threats and lose the respect of common men. He was vaguely surprised that the men didn't make an issue of his necromancy, but he supposed that with a full patrol of skeleton warriors staring them in the face the men found this unwise. Credit them with a small amount of intelligence, then.

For the next two weeks Ollivar worried about the treasure hunters and what they were up to. He had nightmares of soul screamers floating into the Valley and destroying the farmsteads, with none the wiser because travel between farmsteads was at a minimum, and it was not unusual for farm families to go weeks without seeing each other. A single soul screamer could wander up and down the Valley at whim, destroying everyone in its path. A shadow lord would be just as bad. Even a bone lord would kill any number of people before Ollivar became aware of it and blasted it to splinters. He had forty-five patrols criss-crossing the Valley and the barrows, and that was a lot, but there was still plenty of room for the more intelligent of the evil dead to slip in past them. In the spring he would go to Hopp and put out the word that all digging in the barrows had to be approved by himself. He risked annoying the nobles of Hopp, but that was better than thieves unleashing the evil dead on the Valley. He was surprised that a single patrol of knights had done as good a job as they had done in protecting the Valley in the past. It was the presence of the patrol which acted on the minds of would-be marauders, he supposed, just knowing that the knights were out there was enough to quell much wrongdoing. Well, people would learn to respect his patrols as well. Let these treasure hunters go back to Hopp and spread word of the reception they received!

He had his bone patrol change its patrol route in hopes of catching the thieves somewhere else in the barrows, but the patrol did not come across them again. It appeared they had not come back to the barrows, or they had gone far north or south of the Valley to avoid the patrols. This did not give his mind much rest, but this was the best he could do for now. After a few days of fretting he went to visit Folquet, to ask about a baron's position under the law.

"I am running patrols up and down the Valley and up and down the barrows. Doesn't that entitle me to adjudicate the lands under patrol?" Ollivar asked.

"Technically it does," said Folquet, "But another noble could ask to see exactly which lands were granted to you by Lord Erol. An argument could be made that only those lands are under your direct control, and the barrows remain no-man's land, patrols or no patrols. I suppose the courts could find your claim to have merit, but they could just as easily find the other case to have more weight under the law. Remember, the courts for this district are in Hopp. It's those lords that the judges know and are familiar with, not you, Baron Teedy. For that reason I suspect the judges would find whatever case the lords of Hopp put forward to be the more meritorious."

"If they take sides against me they will come to regret it," said Ollivar. "I have the ear of Lord Erol in a way that few other nobles have. Fools could come to grief."

"Don't wear out Lord Erol's attention," said Folquet. "Save that for the most dangerous of interventions, such as with his own heir. You have patrols watching for the evil dead, that will have to suffice. Be of good cheer, Baron Teedy. There used to be ten knights for this entire Valley, and now there are five hundred of your bone men and bone lords. This place has never has such protection as it enjoys now."

"The more intelligent of the evil dead could evade my patrols easily, is my fear."

"The more intelligent of the evil dead could evade knights, as well. In forty years there have only been a handful of incidents with the evil dead coming into our Valley, Baron Teedy. Six bone men were released from a stone tomb by a couple of boys, who fled before them and led them to the Valley; the boys' father was a former knight turned farmer who destroyed the bone men. Alain has a song about this, I think. It makes a rousing tale. And a jangling man once wandered into the Valley and attacked some women and nearly killed them, but a farm boy named Jardi Triadu managed to destroy it. Though it nearly killed him as well. Those two incidents are the only two I know of where the evil dead invaded the Valley. We've stood down something like fifty necromancers as well, but that was the patrols of knights, as you know. Fortunately most necromancers are lazy and overconfident, and they attack with inadequate forces and too soon. They are destroyed before they can wreak much havoc. It's not an accident that Great Disturbances are as rare as they are."

"This wall I am building should hold out the evil dead," said Ollivar in frustration. "It's just that everything takes time, Folquet. The wall will take years to build and won't even be a serious wall, just an impediment against bone men and jangling men. A handful of soldiers with scaling ladders will be able to overcome it in minutes."

"Holding out the bone men and jangling men is an important first step," said Folquet. "With your strong patrols in the barrows, necromancers will be harder pressed to gain a foothold out there. They will be discovered earlier and destroyed more swiftly. I really do think you worry too much, Baron Teedy. You are doing admirable work."

"Well, thank you, but I wish things progressed more swiftly. I have two hundred skeleton workmen on that wall, and stones are being added every hour, but still it's a slow journey."

"I wouldn't let it trouble you."

They talked for a few more minutes, then Ollivar excused himself and went back to the long house. So, Folquet thought the judges of Hopp would side with the lords of Hopp as to raids on the barrows. Ollivar felt confident that a lawsuit would come out of all this, a long-running and expensive one. He wondered if all barons had as many headaches as he had and decided probably not. The barons of Hopp lived in an established town with walls and strong defenses, that has been there for something like five hundred years. All the hard work of defense was already established, in Hopp. The trouble with Peach Orchard Valley was that it was virgin territory, and needed everything done from the raw. The good thing about it was that a baron like Ollivar could really put their stamp on the Valley. With his work crews of skeleton workmen he could labor year-round, day and night. The wall eventually _would_ be built, it was just a matter of how many attacks fell against the Valley as it was constructed.

During the last week of Niner Deena came to the long house with news for Ollivar: she was pregnant! She was only about a month along, and she was coming to consult with Star about the sex of the baby and his or her disposition. Ollivar was very happy at the news and sat with her during Star's examination. The baby was a little boy and was "befuddled," Star said.

"He's not sure where he is or what he's doing in your belly, Deena," Star laughed. "I think he wants to come out and play."

"He's awfully little for all that," said Deena. "I'm just glad he's healthy. My mother miscarried two babies before she had me and my siblings. I was hoping to avoid that fate."

"Come and see me once every other week, then," said Star. "We'll keep you from miscarrying this one."

"Boy's names, then," said Ollivar. "We said if it was a boy I could name him."

"I guess we did," said Deena, displeased.

"Do you have any suggestions?" said Ollivar.

"Rigaut is a nice name, and I don't think there are any Rigauts in the Valley right now."

"That's not a bad one," said Ollivar. "I was thinking Maxwell, after my father."

"Maxwell isn't a bad name, either," said Deena.

"I like Rinaldo, if anyone is asking me," said Star. "It has a nice boy's ring to it."

"Three strong names," said Ollivar. "And many more. Well, there's time to think it over before he actually arrives. What's he like, Star?"

"He's a dreamy one," she said. "What he dreams of I couldn't say, but he isn't just lying there, he's actively dreaming."

"An architect, then," said Deena.

"Sorcerer," said Ollivar.

"You and magic," said Deena.

"He can learn elemental magic and then come to help his old father here in the Valley."

"Old? You'll be about thirty-four when he's of age."

"That's old enough, it seems to me."

"Fifty is old," said Star. "Thirty-four is just an adult."

"We have to have a celebration," said Ollivar. "Invite your family, and interested parties. A conception party, like they do in the city."

"That's premature, I think," said Deena. "Really, many mothers miscarry their first few infants."

"I'll all but guarantee that my techniques will spare you that fate," said Star. "Really, Deena, you shouldn't have to worry."

"Well, I will anyway," said Deena. "Do you want to have this party in the winter, or the spring?"

"Now," said Ollivar. "Let's celebrate the new Teedy coming along. Then a proper baby shower when the baby is born."

"Just friends and family, then, for the conception party," said Deena. "And the whole Valley for the baby shower. Let it be a day for celebrating family."

"That sounds quite reasonable," said Ollivar. "And a spring wedding, then, say in Twoer."

"That gives us time to plan," said Deena.

"Spring weddings are the best," said Star. "You're riding the hopes for the new year, with all that potential."

And so the plans were laid, and Scotty was called upon to issue invitations for the conception party, and the cook was told to prepare a good selection of foodstuffs for the guests. And two weeks later the party was laid out, and Deena's family and friends came, and Ollivar invited Folquet and Alain de Greyhaven and a few other guests. There were no gifts for a conception party, but people brought brandy and wine and hard ciders. The cook laid out a small feast, and people discussed baby names and congratulated Deena and Ollivar on the conception of their son. Star of course was at the party and told a few stories about famous births, and Alain de Greyhaven sang a few old favorites, and it was a good celebration for all concerned. So the month of Tener was ushered in.

Tener brought fierce cold, and a lot more snow. Nearly a meter fell during the second week of the month, just after the conception party, and travel came to a complete halt in the Valley. Only Ollivar's bone patrols still moved about; everyone else stayed indoors. The skeleton warriors struggled gamely on, running patrols in the Valley and the barrows, watching for wolves and necromancers. More wolves came down out of the mountains and were slain by the patrols, more than fifty wolves in the first part of Tener, and Scotty told Ollivar that it was the worst winter for wolves in a generation.

"Usually you get a few packs down in the Valley every winter, eight or ten animals," said Scotty. "Not these packs of fifty that we're seeing now. Those must be five or six packs running together. The snowfall up in the high mountains must be really bad this winter, to drive so many wolves down into our Valley."

"Well, my patrols seem to be having good luck in finding them so far," said Ollivar. "There have been no reports of attacks on farmsteads, so it looks like my patrols are catching them all in the mouth of the pass."

"Come spring you'll have a bunch of hides to sell in Hopp and Calivandamar, should be worth a pretty penny," said Scotty. "City people like to have wolf pelts hanging on the wall, I'm told, or as a rug in front of the fire."

"I never saw that in the city," said Ollivar, "But I never knew anyone with money enough to spend on such things, either."

"You'll have to keep a couple of pelts for the long house, Baron Teedy," said Scotty. "Liven the place up a bit."

"Put a few pelts on my bed for winter warmth," said Ollivar. "All of us could use a few pelts for bedding."

"Not me, thanks," said Scotty. "I don't want the spirit of the wolf in my bedding! Bad enough they're out there in the wilds, much the less in my home."

Ollivar laughed at this.

The patrols brought in wolf hides, and Ollivar had them taken straight to the tanner to be made into pelts. The tanner did good work, and by the third week of Tener there were nearly a hundred pelts in the storerooms of the long house. Alain de Greyhaven made up a short "snap" to celebrate the Winter of the Wolves, as he called it, and he sang it all over the Valley as he visited various families.

The new snow eventually crusted over, so people could walk on it, but everyone was staying snug in their own homes. It was the deepest part of winter, and it was being spent in weaving and knitting and sewing and storytelling and song and preparing tools for the coming year. Technically the schools were open in the winter, and classes were being taught, but with two meters of snow on the ground it was hard for the pupils to make it to classes, and education ground to a halt for the month of Tener.

Ollivar wasn't solely listening to song and stories during the winter months. He had other things to do as well. He wrote a number of long letters to his mother and sister and Lord Erol and the barons of Hopp and put them away for delivery in the spring. He began research into a clean version of the spell that allowed a necromancer to speak to the dead but couldn't get very far with this due to lack of a good library. He vowed that when he built his castle it would have a first-rate library of books both magical and mundane, and to hell with the expense of it. He went over the plans for Bonehaven Town and his castle and went outside and reviewed progress on the wall. The crudeness of this latter construction bothered him. In Calivandamar the city walls were engineered so that you could not slide a slip of paper between the stones, but his own wall was not so smooth. He didn't think anyone would be able to scale it without a ladder, but it would make an attractive surface for thieves.

He also took to drawing sketches of the artifacts he had found in the barrow and included these in a long letter to Lord Erol's sorcerer as a peace offering, instead of offering him the location of the old library. He described in detail the lord's tomb, and that of the lovers, and the saint's tomb up north, and noted his frustration with the vile nature of most necromancy.

"There is little point in exploring the old necromancy most of the time," he wrote. "Its nature is dark and unredeemable, and it's not possible to rewrite the old spells to clean versions. I can't think that there would be more than a dozen spells that could be salvaged for use by a white necromancer, and those only with much hard research. Sometimes I despair of having chosen this course to travel, but it seems to me that it was about time for a new white necromancer, and it is past time that someone wrested the secrets of the demons from them and presented clean spells for the benefit of all. I am thinking that in the future I should like to establish a school of white necromancy and raise up many white necromancers as there are many sorcerers in the land. A little competition between users of magic can only be good for the domain." _Ha, let him chew on that_ , Ollivar thought as he penned those words. Challenge the old sorcerer, make him think a little.

He also spent some time in the kitchen with the cook, thinking he'd learn to prepare a few simple dishes and thus surprise and delight Deena with his culinary gifts, but these experiments turned out badly, and he was forced to retreat from the kitchen. He tended to overcook everything and burn it, whether it was on the stove or in the oven, and the cook grew frustrated with his efforts and chided him along his way. He spent several weeks in these attempts, obliging the cook to call upon her patron elementals for mercy, until finally he gave up and went back to his letter-writing. That at least he was master of.

The worst of winter passed around the middle of Tener, and the weather grew imperceptibly warmer, and spring was on the way. There was another snowfall of half a meter, wet, heavy snow that packed down and was easy to walk upon, but people continued to stay at home. Tener was a month of hibernation, and sensible people didn't go out. Despite the slightly warmer temperatures there was a cold wind that came down from the mountains and froze the Valley solid, and Ollivar hoped that all the farmsteads had enough wood for keeping warm.

The fourth week of Tener arrived, and there came a lovely sunny day when something disturbing happened. One of Ollivar's patrols reported in to him that they were under attack, and Ollivar immediately stopped his morning exercises to speak with the bone lord in charge of the patrol. It relayed to him a vision of what was happening, namely that a very large group of bone men was attacking the patrol. Ollivar looked through the eyes of his bone lord and saw the bone men swarming and immediately ordered more patrols to move into the area to fight. This wasn't a few bone men loosed from a stone tomb by weather and natural forces but a large group of what looked like hundreds of bone men. He put his clothes on and went into the main room, where Scotty was eating breakfast.

"We're under attack, Scotty," Ollivar said. "There are hundreds of bone men just south of the Valley, no more than an hour's distance from us."

"Sounds like a winter necromancer," said Scotty. "What will you do?"

"I have a dozen patrols moving south to engage the bone men. I didn't see a necromancer, but he'd be in the rear of the group, directing their assault. I'm going to get my besieged patrol out of there, pull them back north until they join up with the patrols moving south. They'll just be destroyed out of hand if I leave them in contact with these bone men."

"Should I run to Folquet's and tell him to get men together? The caravan guards could be readied for this attack within two hours' time."

"Not enough time, I think. My patrols will have to suffice. My skeleton warriors should be stronger than his bone men, so with any luck we will have control over this situation soon."

Ollivar pulled back his besieged patrol and moved them to join up with the approaching patrols from the Valley. The bone men fell back and did not pursue, which made Ollivar nervous. There was no telling where the necromancer would go now, which meant he could move to the west and go around the approaching patrols to attack the Valley. There were another ten patrols guarding the mouth of the Valley, and Ollivar would have to trust that they'd detect any incoming army of bone men. There were hundreds of bone men in the oncoming forces, and he was sending only a hundred twenty of his own skeleton warriors to deal with them. If the necromancer had strengthened his bone men with the same sort of spells Ollivar had employed, they'd give Ollivar's skeleton warriors a pitched battle and might even win.

He decided to keep his patrol in contact with the enemy forces and ordered them forward again until they could see the necromancer's bone men. They were moving northwestward, swiftly, heading straight for the Valley. A small group of them broke off and moved to engage his patrol, and he pulled his patrol back a little ways, and the bone men went back to the main group without attacking. If they could see his forces, then, they'd attack. Otherwise they were strictly interested in movement. He felt anxiety, looking at the great number of enemies. It was sheer luck that his patrol had stumbled on them before they reached the Valley. This had bought him an hour to take their measure and move his own forces into place; with any luck the main battle would take place a mile or so from the mouth of the Valley, away from the farmsteads and inhabited areas.

Ollivar reflected that he didn't really know military tactics. He'd read a few book on the subject that he'd bought through the caravans, but he knew that the true nobility had extensive training in such matters. All young barons and earls and dukes spent years in military training, because that was considered an important part of their duties once they came of age, especially in Swan Domain, with the threats to the north and the east. All he was doing was moving his forces to engage an enemy, and after that it would be up to the skeleton warriors and bone lords to make battle on their own. His only concession to actual tactics was to form his patrols up into two groups to try to make a pincer movement against the enemy necromancer. He'd try to meet them from the west and then bring the pincer down from the north to enclose and crush them.

He didn't think the enemy necromancer could do tactics with his bone men. Bone men were incredibly stupid and simply attacked en masse, beating and strangling their victims to death. So this mass of bone men would move as a group into the Valley, seeking to overrun farmsteads and put the citizens of the Valley to death. This necromancer must have been digging mounds all summer, miles to the south of the Valley, animating the skeletons he found in the stone tombs and adding them to his ranks. Waiting for winter to arrive, and the opportunity for a sneak attack. And he'd come within two miles of the Valley without being detected, so perhaps he'd been spying on Ollivar's patrols, taking in their routes and planning his movements. So this necromancer wasn't completely mad, then. That would make him more dangerous.

For the next hour Ollivar's skeleton warriors moved south. The army of bone men passed the ridge that defined the southern reach of the Valley and turned westward, into the Valley itself. The western pincer of Ollivar's forces met the necromancer's bone men and engaged them, fighting furiously with maces and swords against clutching fingers and fists. Ollivar's skeleton warriors turned out to be the better fighters by far and destroyed scores of bone men, but the numbers of bone men seemed infinite. Only a handful of Ollivar's skeleton warriors were destroyed in turn.

Then the necromancer entered the fight by attempting to take over Ollivar's skeleton warriors. Ollivar felt a burning in his guts as his control cube was attacked by the necromancer. The closest of his patrols to the necromancer fell under the necromancer's assault, as he attempted to assume control over Ollivar's skeletons. Ollivar blocked the attempt to wrest control away from himself, and the necromancer gave up. He swarmed Ollivar's hundred and twenty skeleton warriors and bone lords with many hundreds of bone men, and a pitched battle ensued. It was a strange fight, taking place as it did in deep snow that the skeletons had to push through to get at each other, and the enemy necromancer stayed well away in the back of his forces and continued trying to take over Ollivar's forces. But the spells that Ollivar had employed to create his skeleton warriors bound them to him most thoroughly, and this enemy necromancer could not gain a foothold.

Every time one of Ollivar's skeleton warriors engaged a bone man it was Ollivar's skeleton which won through, shattering the bone man with sword or mace and driving on to the next bone man. The enemy necromancer won when he sent groups of bone men against single skeleton warriors, overwhelming them and tearing them to pieces. In fifteen minutes Ollivar could see that his forces were going to win. This necromancer had not created exceptional warriors like Ollivar's, they were just standard bone men, and they were weak. Now Ollivar brought down the northern side of his pincer movement and trapped the bone men between the pincers, swiftly smashing them to bits. There were something like five hundred bone men in this fighting force, one for each citizen of the Valley, and it took a while to destroy them, but the outcome of the battle was not really in question.

As Ollivar's skeleton warriors destroyed the bone men he sent three bone lords after the necromancer himself. They charged through the snow and converged on the spot Ollivar thought he was occupying, but he wasn't there. Now Ollivar brought half a dozen more bone lords into the search, spreading them out and moving them as fast as they could go to the south, trying to cut off the necromancer's retreat. They moved fast and hard through the snow, gazing out over the white plains and the mounds, until they had gone a quarter mile and still had not seen anything.

Ollivar had his skeleton warriors finish off the bone men and then put them on a long line on the northern end of the battlefield. He then had them move across the battlefield, slashing and smashing their way forward, trying to find if the necromancer had hidden himself in the snow. When his forces had gone perhaps five hundred feet to the south the enemy necromancer popped up just ahead of the skeleton warriors and cried out,

"I surrender, have mercy!"

Ollivar moved his bone lords to surround this wretch and stared at him through their eyes. He had the look of a necromancer; his eyes were yellow and bloodshot, and he had a miserable overall look that said he had been sleeping poorly, due to nightmares concerning hell. He wasn't much to look at. He had short black hair under a winter cap and a rather chubby face and ran to the portly. His hand were stuffed into gloves, and he wore winter clothes, so he wasn't too far gone yet.

Ollivar called for Star, who was still asleep, and Scotty ran and woke her up. She dressed quickly and came out to the big room to see what was wrong.

"Yes, Baron Teedy?" she said. "Scotty says you've caught a necromancer. You wished to consult?"

"Yes. Can this wretch be cured of his madness?"

"No, not by me. There are old legends that say the greatest healers can cure necromancers of their sickness, but I am not such a healer. We'd have to wait until spring and send away for a healer of note from the Academy. Even then they'd most likely want him burned instead of cured."

"I can't hold this necromancer in the long house until spring," said Ollivar. "He'll be putting curses on all of us, and his patron will be attacking us incessantly."

"Then it looks like you'll have to kill him," said Star. "Kill him and burn his remains."

Ollivar thought about it for a little bit. He'd like more information out of this necromancer, who his patron was and where he'd been holing up in the barrows since summer. He could move his patrols to cover such places, if they knew where they were. He spoke through his bone lord to the necromancer: "Who is your patron demon, necromancer? What is your name?"

"My name is Francis Assini, of Long Field, on the other side of Swan Domain. My patron shall go nameless for now."

"Where have you been all summer? Where is your hiding place?"

"South of here about fifteen miles, in a cave in the foothills. My supplies have run out, so it was time to move."

"We're discussing what to do with you," said Ollivar. "Stay still."

"Mercy, Baron Teedy."

"He asks for mercy," said Ollivar to Star and Scotty.

"Would he have given the Valley mercy, had his bone men won through?" said Scotty.

"Well said," said Star. "He knew what the penalty for necromancy was. He is deep in the grip of his patron demon and beyond caring about what happens to himself. He is asking for mercy so you will bring him into the long house, where he can do more harm."

"Agreed," said Ollivar. He ordered the bone lord who was guarding the necromancer to kill him, and the bone lord stabbed its sword straight through the necromancer. He died in moments.

A fell light burned in the necromancer's dead eyes, and his mouth began to move, and his voice wheezed out of him: "Baron Teedy, you have earned the enmity of hell this day. I pronounce a curse upon your house, a great and terrible curse—"

Ollivar broke the link to the bone lord before the demon could finish its curse.

"What is happening?" said Scotty, and Ollivar said,

"The necromancer's patron is pronouncing a curse upon my house. I severed the connection before it could finish." Ollivar told the bone lord who had killed the necromancer to pick up the corpse and return it to the long house. He moved his surviving skeleton warriors back onto patrol, and he sent two patrols south to look for the necromancer's cave, following the tracks of the necromancer's army in the snow.

Then Ollivar felt a piercing pain in his heart, and a burning sensation over his body. He doubled over and gasped, and Scotty and Star rushed to help him stand.

"What's wrong?" said Star.

"The demon's curse, I think," he said. "My heart, and it burns."

"I can break curses, sometimes," said Star. "We have training in that sort of thing, and I excelled in my classes."

"So you say," gaped Ollivar, who felt weak and sat down on a plush chair. The sensation of burning gave way to a foul prickling that felt like being whipped with nettles.

Star returned to her room and was gone a while, then she came back out into the main room.

"Stay in the chair, Baron Teedy," she said. "I will attempt to cure you of this curse. This is a lengthy ceremony, so if you have to go to the bathroom now's the time to do it."

"No, I'm good," said Ollivar. He slumped in the chair as the stinging went on and on and robbed him of his strength.

Star drew a magic circle on the stone tiles under the chair and populated it with magic signs and symbols, then she drew a summoning circle and summoned an angel. This was a large angel, taller than a man, with shimmering wings of palest blue and a face hidden by a glowing cowl. It and Star conversed for a long time, then Star took pinches of some aromatic dried herb and threw them onto Ollivar, who was impassive.

"The angel will attempt to break the curse. If it fails I can still try myself, but the odds are better if the angel tries first."

The angel turned to face Ollivar and began singing a most beautiful song in the language of angels, which Ollivar thought he would have enjoyed if he wasn't feeling so miserable. The angel flapped its wings and raised its arms over its head from time to time as its voice rose or fell, and sometimes the song came out as a torrent of sound, blasting over Ollivar and ripping at the stinging feeling. Other times the song was so quiet he thought the angel had stopped singing, only for it to raise its voice again and continue onward. The stinging feeling slowly subsided, and strength returned to Ollivar. Somewhere in all this song the bone lord which was carrying the dead necromancer arrived at the long house, and Ollivar had Scotty build a pyre outside on the snow.

"Build it big, Scotty," Ollivar told him. "We want him to burn down to ash, nothing left. Bones, too."

Scotty undertook this project on his own, using wood meant for the fireplace, and in an hour he came inside and announced the pyre was ready. Ollivar had the bone lord dump the body of the necromancer on the blocks of wood, and Scotty piled more logs on top of the corpse. Then he fired the pile of wood, and Ollivar had the bone lord climb on top of the pile and burn along with the necromancer.

"It was covered with the necromancer's blood," he said. "Better it burn and be purified."

"Yes," said Star. "Now hold still, and don't be frightened."

The angel drew its sword, and its voice rose to a piercing cry, and it pointed the sword at Ollivar, who flinched in spite of himself. He half-expected the flames of the sword to lash out at him, or for the angel to hurl the blade through him, though of course these things did not happen. The angel simply stopped singing and then intoned something that Ollivar took as a prayer. The stinging feeling in his body faded to a mild annoyance, and he felt invigorated as the energy came back into himself. The angel sheathed its sword and spoke to Star, who told Ollivar,

"She says the curse is blunted but not dispelled. You are a danger to everyone around you and will continue to suffer constant discomfort until you can get the curse completely removed. A senior healer will be required, or a greater angel. Apparently the demon that cursed you was a powerful one in hell's hierarchy, and my angels are not strong enough to break the curse."

"All right. Please thank your angel for her efforts on my behalf and ask if there's anything she needs in return for her attempt."

"No, they serve me for love, not profit," said Star. "Now I will attempt to further blunt the curse, with your permission."

"Didn't your angel already do that?" asked Ollivar.

"The angels have their methods for breaking curses, and healers have a different way. The angel has given her attempt, and now I'd like to try my methods."

"Very well, let's give it the try," said Ollivar.

Star erased the magic circle around his chair with her hand and drew a new circle with pieces of purple and white chalk. She put magic symbols in the circle and drew out pinches of aromatic herbs from pouches in her clothing. Then she also began singing, but in plain language, not the language of the angels. Her song was as long as the angel's song and also rose and sank in pitch a great deal. Then she stopped singing and started a lengthy intonation that sounded like a chant. This went on for a long time, perhaps an hour, and Scotty went out to check on the burning pyre. When he came back inside he said,

"It's burning merrily away, Baron Teedy. About half the pile is consumed. I'd say it'll keep burning for another couple of hours. The bones of your bone lord are blackened and cracked and will be consumed in short order."

Ollivar nodded. "Just keep an eye on it, Scotty, and let's make sure it burns all the way down to ash. If there are bones left we'll pile on more wood and incinerate them."

"Aye," said Scotty.

Star finished her chant and threw pinches of herbs onto Ollivar, who let the powders fall onto his clothes. If nothing else he'd smell good by the end of all this curse breaking.

Finally Star stopped chanting and said, "That's it, Baron Teedy, that's the end of my attempt. Like my angel I have further blunted the curse but cannot break it. It was cast by a hardened practitioner of evil magic with far more experience than I have. You will still be uncomfortable, though it will come and go. I can't tell how much danger you are to those around you, but you will have bad luck attending to you as a result of this curse. I would keep Deena away from you in her pregnant state, for fear of losing the baby, until you can get the curse properly removed."

Ollivar was startled by this last and said, "Is the baby truly in danger?"

"My guess would be that everyone you come in contact with runs the risk of getting bad luck, Baron Teedy. I am exempt from this because the curse is now severely weakened and I am protected by Rachmiel, but Scotty is in danger, the cook is in danger, and Deena is in great danger. Spring is just a few weeks away, and in a month you will be able to travel to the capital and get the curse broken by a seasoned healer. This I am afraid will be expensive, as much as a thousand pieces of gold, so plan accordingly..."

"So for the next month I should live alone in the long house, except for you, Star, is that it?"

"That's true. I'd say when you go to the capital your caravan will be attacked by bandits, as an example of bad luck, so be ready for that."

"Very well. Scotty, take the next month off your duties, then, and go back to your family to live, until I can get this damnable curse broken. I will oversee the burning of this pyre myself and the final dissolution of this necromancer who has made himself such a trouble."

"Best of luck to you, Baron Teedy," said Scotty, who went to his room to clear out some of his things and then decamped the long house. Ollivar went and told the cook that she had the next six weeks off and that he would cook the meals for himself and Star.

The cook seemed displeased and said, "You'll starve to death, Baron Teedy. You have some rudimentary skills, but...ah, I know what we can do! Why don't I continue to cook your meals at my daughter's house, and we can send them over here. They'll cool off a little on the walk, but she lives close to the long house. That way you will still get good cooking, and I won't be exposed to your curse."

"Very well, why don't we do that," said Ollivar. "Good thinking."

"Yes, it pays to keep one's wits about one," said the cook. She also went to her room and gathered some clothes and personal items and departed the long house.

"Life is going to be difficult without Scotty around to keep everything going," said Ollivar, and Star nodded.

"I suppose I should awaken earlier in the morning than I have been doing," she said.

"Now that everyone is gone, I want to ask you, can you summon the angel Kotumiel and send him after the demon that put this curse on me?" said Ollivar.

"We would need to know the name of the demon," said Star. "Though perhaps Kotumiel can tell its name."

"Would you be willing to try?"

"Yes, of course I will," she said. She drew a magic circle on the floor and filled it with signs and symbols and uttered a brief incantation. "It's easy to summon an angel when you know his name," she said by way of explanation.

A blazing light filled the summoning circle, and then the angel Kotumiel appeared. It looked just as it had before; apparently it had not changed clothes upon returning to heaven. Its face was covered by a cowl, and it said: "I did not expect to see you again so soon, the two of you."

"We have need of you," said Star. "A demon has cursed this man, and we need to chastise the demon."

"That is what I do best," said the angel. "What is the name of the demon?"

"We don't know," said Star. "Its necromancer is burning on a pyre right outside this building."

The angel turned around in its summoning circle and raised its left fist in the air. It hummed for several minutes, a melancholy melody that made Ollivar miss his mother and sister intensely.

"Hakael is the name of the demon," said the angel. "A leader among demons, and strong." It turned back to Star. "Can you summon it, with its name?"

"I have training in this sort of thing, yes," said Star. She crouched down on the floor and drew another summoning circle adjoining the angel's circle. This time she moved slowly and carefully, drawing each symbol with deliberate care. She made the circle small and tight, and drew a double circle for the outer wall. Finally she stood up and sang a song in the language of angels. A reddish light glared in the second circle, and a horrific shape appeared there. It looked like a giant toad, resting on all fours, with bony spikes sticking out all over its body. Its face was a misshapen man's face, lumpy and hideous, running with weeping pustules. The thing stank, and Ollivar knew fear.

"So, you have discovered my name," hissed the demon. "What do you want?"

"Chastisement," said the angel, and it drew its flaming sword.

The demon's black eyes widened, and it said, "I can't remove the curse. Once invoked it is in effect until broken."

"We aren't after the curse," said Ollivar. "We're after punishment."

"No one will remember your punishment," said the demon. "It is pointless."

"But satisfying," said Ollivar. He said to the angel, "Please proceed."

The angel stepped into the demon's summoning circle, and the demon opened its mouth and flicked a long, barbed tongue at it. The angel caught the tongue and slashed it off with its sword, and the demon shrieked. Now the angel brought its sword down on the demon's head, and in three blows it severed the demon's head from its body.

"Best not give it time to prepare its defenses," said the angel, holding the head aloft.

"Miserable wretch," said Ollivar, looking at the lifeless head. Black ichor oozed from the stump of the demon's neck.

"This will banish the demon Hakael from the world for one lifetime, say fifty years," said Kotumiel. "It will be unable to carry out its wicked designs in the world for that period and must work through others to accomplish its goals. Congratulations, you have done a powerful good deed today."

" _You_ have done a powerful good deed today," said Ollivar. "That is all we wanted, angel. You are free to go."

"You are not my summoner," said the angel, who looked at Star.

"You are released, Kotumiel," she said, and the angel bowed and sheathed its sword. It spread its wings, then wrapped them around itself and faded away.

"Too bad we couldn't get it to break the curse," said Star. "But chastising a powerful demon will gain me much respect among angel kind. My status among healers will increase."

"How will they hear about it?" said Ollivar.

"Kotumiel will spread word among the angels, and the angels will spread word among the healers. We have made an enemy among the factions of hell, Baron Teedy, and that isn't something to take lightly. If you're still alive in fifty years, Hakael will come looking for you when it reappears in the world."

"Then I can engage the healers to summon Kotumiel and destroy it once more," he said.

"It will be ready for that," she said. "There are many tricks demons can play, if they're prepared. We caught Hakael by surprise this time, and Kotumiel is a potent angel. We were fortunate."

"I am going to check the funeral pyre," said Ollivar, and he went outside to where the fire was reduced to a large pile of glowing coals on the ground. There were no bones sticking up out of these, and he hoped they had been reduced to ash. Even the skulls were absent. Ollivar tromped in a circle around the coals, looking for signs of the necromancer, and saw none. As he walked he stumbled and fell toward the fire, barely catching himself in time not to fall onto the coals.

"Bad luck," he muttered. He went back inside the long house. "Almost fell into the fire just now," he said to Star.

"Yes, you will be afflicted with misfortune until the curse is broken," she said. "Be glad we blunted the curse as much as we did, or you would be writhing on that pyre right now."

Ollivar stared at her. "So I'm going to be a tripping, staggering, stumbling fool for the next six weeks?" he said.

"Unfortunately," she came back.

"First I have to survive the rest of winter," Ollivar said. "We only have a week left in the month of Tener, and it appears I'll have to go that alone."

"I'll be here to keep you company, Baron Teedy, so it won't be so terribly bad. I'm sorry we can't do something about Deena, but it's best she stays far away from the long house, and you."

Ollivar felt this as a physical break from Deena, and it made him queasy in the guts and unhappy in the mind.

"You're always good company, Star, but I'll miss Deena terribly," he said.

"Only for six weeks," she said. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all."

"To hell with absence," he grumbled, and she smiled.

Later on Ollivar went out to the pyre one final time and found it had burned down to ashes. There was no sign of bones in the remains, not even teeth, and Ollivar judged that Scotty had built an incinerator of a pyre. He had some skeleton workmen gather up the ashes and then take them out to the barrows and put them in an empty tomb, several kilometers from the Valley. It was the best that could be done for removing the taint of the necromancer. Ollivar wanted to ask Scotty what the knights had done with other necromancers they had killed, but he wasn't going to expose Scotty to his curse and risk his safety for such a small concern. The knights must have burned the other necromancers they killed and perhaps dumped them in the river, or let them blow away on the wind. To Ollivar the necromancer's ashes were poison, and he didn't want them anywhere near his citizens.

The last week of Tener passed in misery for Ollivar. Star took messages back and forth between himself and Deena, but they couldn't really exchange intimacies in this way. Besides, even though Deena knew Star was a girl-lover, Deena was still jealous of Star's good looks and abundant skills, and Ollivar couldn't use Star much in exchanging messages. Deena went on with planning the wedding, sending messages to Ollivar from time to time about arrangements, and Ollivar felt obliged to simply allow her her way. He missed her terribly and took to writing her letters sealed in wax, which wasn't as good as meeting face-to-face but was better than having Star carry messages orally.

Ollivar discovered that his curse was a general one that affected every area of his life. He cut himself while eating dinner, he stumbled and half-fell constantly, making a mess of his big toes, and he became nervous when making a fire for all the minor burns he picked up in the process. He fell out of his bed, injuring both arms, and he kept running face-first into doorframes, battering his nose. Star did the minor healing that was required to keep him in good condition and told him he needed to slow down and concentrate more on what he was doing.

"The curse can be defeated, but you have to really pay attention to what you're doing," she said. "You won't stumble if you place your feet firmly on the floor, and you won't burn yourself making a fire if you hold the matches carefully. Caution is the key to defeating the curse."

Ollivar found that the curse was lessened whenever Star was around, and this increased his misery because he didn't want to ask Star to stay near him all the time just so his comfort was assured. So he was always grateful when Star was in the main room of the long house with him. In truth, spring was on the way, and people were getting sick constantly, and Star was busy for long days tromping around the Valley and summoning angels to cure the illnesses that afflicted Ollivar's people. So he just had to slow down and be cautious in order to defeat the curse or at least survive its effects. With all the minor wounds he was suffering he was horrified at the thought of what the full-on curse would have done to him. He'd have been dead within a week, he was certain. Hakael threw a powerful curse with the intent to kill.

This is where Ollivar's first year as a necromancer ended, then, with him cursed and cut off from the people of the Valley, with only Star for company, much to Deena's unhappiness. Deena's pregnancy continued to develop, and the baby was happy and healthy and dreaming in her womb. The two of them discussed their wedding and how much they wanted to be having sex, and Ollivar promised good times once he got the curse lifted. He continued writing letters to the barons of Hopp and to Lord Erol and to his mother and sister, and he wrote daily letters to Deena for Star to deliver. Star for her part took to getting up a little earlier in the day so she could make the rounds of the Valley's citizens and cure them of illness. Otherwise she continued telling stories to keep the two of them amused, and she constantly chided him to slow down and pay attention to what he was doing, to defeat his curse.

The cook brought the meals to the long house and kept the two of them fed, and Ollivar cleaned up the dishes and kept the place clean. He didn't mind the work, it gave him something to do during the long days before spring came with its warmth and melting snow. Star didn't volunteer to clean anything, and Ollivar was pretty certain she was used to having servants to take care of such things. The two of them talked a great deal about the capital, he from a poor man's point of view and she from a wealthy noble's perspective, and they laughed at the foibles of city folk and their ways. He promised her that the Valley had its own celebrations and festivals that were every bit as much fun as those of the city, and she promised she would attend them with an open mind and a broad heart.

"The people of the Valley have welcomed me so far," she said. "I thought they would be suspicious of an outsider from the big city, but apparently their need for a healer gets them through all that. They accept me, anyway."

"Well, they _accept_ me, too, but they don't like having a necromancer in their midst," said Ollivar. "Folquet and Scotty are spreading word of the necromancer I killed, to build up my reputation, and we'll see if that has any effect on the opinions of the Valley for their baron."

In all it had been a busy year, with much happening, and Ollivar felt that life in Peach Orchard Valley would offer more than enough to keep him occupied and amused. He wrote a few letters to Folquet for Star to deliver, preparing the caravan master for the many projects Ollivar wanted to undertake in the spring. It would soon be time to begin building, and there was much to accomplish before work began. Folquet wrote back his condolences for the demon's curse and congratulated Ollivar on chastising the demon, though he feared this action had made the Valley a powerful enemy. There would be more necromancers, he said, and more bone men, and possibly more curses as well.

"We never suspected our little Valley would receive a baron this year," he said in a letter. "And it was beyond our flightiest dreams that he should be the next white necromancer. You have acquitted yourself well, Baron Teedy, and may I welcome you to the new year with open arms and best wishes for exciting times?"

"To exciting times," Ollivar told Star over dinner that night, the last night of Tener before the turning of the new year. It was going to be just the two of them to celebrate the new year, and they did it with blackberry wine and peach brandy and a fine dinner. Despite his curse, Ollivar felt good. He had found a lady love and was due to become a father and a husband, and he had managed to provide for the Valley's defense and attract a healer to the place. He had found significant treasures in the barrows and had a treasure laden with gold. The Valley was full of stories, tales of the barrow lord and the lovers and the saint, stories about winter necromancers and the healer and the winter sickness and the release of the angel Kotumiel. There was no way to tell what the next year would bring, but it would doubtless be interesting. As the last minutes of the old year wound down and the new year began, he drank a toast of peach brandy with Star and said,

"To the new year."

Star said, "May it bring us joy."

And they drank.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Randal Doering has a BA in creative writing from San Francisco State University and an MA in anthropology from Cal State East Bay. He has published 16 short stories in the small press and semi-pro magazines and won honorable mention in the Writers of the Future contest. He believes travel is a great teacher and travels as much as possible, both in the U.S. and abroad. His work tends to highlight the Middle East and American Indian cultures and mostly falls into the realm of contemporary fantasy.

Randal has a website at http://www.randaldoering.com. There you can download two free novels and a selection of short stories as samplers for his short story collections. There are also links to his for-sale books on Amazon, which include a memoir and about a dozen novel-length works of fiction. His email address is on this website, so you can send him a message if you wish. He loves to hear from his readers and wants your feedback!

If you read this book and enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review. Reviews go a long way toward telling other readers what to expect and why you enjoyed (or didn't enjoy) the book.

