They hurried the last stretch of the journey to Barden. It wasn’t far, and the assassins were unlikely to attack again, but the memory of the ambush clung to them like a shadow. They pushed their horses hard, eager for the safety of familiar ground.

  Just before nightfall, they reached a small military compound along a narrow, dusty road.

  The compound housed a modest number of soldiers and served as a training site for local militia. Depending on the season, anywhere from twenty to a hundred people might be stationed there. It sat a short distance off the road, enclosed by a wooden palisade. Across from it, pressed close to the road, stood a private tavern and inn. It wasn’t much of a waystation, but the soldiers’ presence kept it safe enough for travelers.

  Half a mile farther down the road, tucked back among the trees, stood a small cottage with a low stone wall enclosing a garden. That was their destination.

  Barden’s home.

  They stopped briefly at the inn to stable their horses, reserve a room, and eat a quick meal. After dinner, they walked the half mile up the darkening road toward the cottage. Night had settled fully by the time they arrived, but warm firelight spilled through the open front door.

  “Took you long enough getting here,” a cranky voice called from the doorway.

  “Barden!” James said, his face breaking into a grin as he stepped forward to clasp the old man’s hand. “It’s good to see you again, teacher. So—you knew I was coming then?”

  “I’ve looked in on you a time or two,” Barden said with a dismissive wave. “And of course I know what my own day will hold. Yes, I knew you’d come. Have you finally returned to continue your training?” His tone carried a whimsical lilt that made Ethan unsure whether he was joking.

  “Well…” James began, but Barden raised a hand sharply.

  “Don’t try your excuses on me,” he said, grumbling. “You didn’t come here to train. Always too busy with more important things to learn how to use your gift correctly. Well, come in then. Sit. Tell me what’s so important that it warrants a visit to the great and mighty Barden this time.”

  Despite the sarcasm, Ethan could feel the confidence radiating from the old man as he shuffled back to his chair by the fire.

  “Sit down and tell me why you’ve come,” Barden commanded, pointing to a chair opposite him.

  Ethan wasn’t thrilled to be here, but he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his mouth as James seemed to deflate under his former teacher’s tone.

  Before sitting, James paused. “Do you mind if I bring another chair over for my student?”

  Barden flinched at the question. His blind eyes lifted toward Ethan, but Ethan felt as though the man was looking through him, not at him. James glanced between them, confusion tightening his features. Ethan didn’t know what was happening or why Barden didn’t answer.

  Just as James opened his mouth to speak again, Barden relaxed, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Why don’t you let your student look around a bit while we catch up?”

  James still looked puzzled, but he nodded. “Don’t wander too far, Ethan. Maybe check on the horses and put our things away in the room. I’ll come find you when you’re needed.”

  Ethan nodded gratefully and stepped out into the cool night air. Once outside, he realized he had no idea what to do with himself. The horses were fine, and moving their packs would take all of two minutes. James had clearly made an excuse to dismiss him.

  He didn’t want to stand alone in the dark—not after the ambush in the pass—so he turned back toward the road and headed for the military compound. He wasn’t sure if the guards would let him inside, but at least the place was well?lit, and if assassins appeared, soldiers would be close by.

  He walked down the road, unaware of the strange conversation unfolding behind him in the cottage.

  “What’s wrong, teacher? Are you well?” James asked carefully.

  “I’m fine, boy,” Barden grumbled. “I know my time, and I’ve a number of years yet in this world.”

  “I’m sorry,” James said, “but I’ve never seen you look surprised before. Even as your student, I tried sneaking up on you, playing tricks—you always knew.”

  Barden’s tone softened. “It’s alright, James. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time I was surprised either. Maybe back before I was trained. And you’re right—I was absolutely and utterly surprised just now.”

  “What did you see?” James asked, worry creeping into his voice.

  “It’s not what I saw,” Barden said quietly. “It’s what I didn’t see. I saw you coming to visit me, but I thought you were alone. I didn’t see anyone with you.”

  James froze.

  When Barden looked in on him, he saw everything—who he was with, what he was doing. When James was younger, Barden had been the greatest of the Watchers. He didn’t need fighting skill. He saw everything. No one could fool him. No one could sneak up on him. If trouble was coming, he always knew, always prepared.

  Each morning, Barden would sit and look into the day ahead. In fifteen minutes of silent meditation, he would see all that the day would bring him. James remembered watching him—sometimes smiling at what he saw, sometimes frowning—but always knowing. Always prepared. Never surprised.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  He could look further ahead if he wished, and often did as a Watcher. But in his old age, he limited himself to one day at a time.

  He used to tell James, “Life would be a bore if there was no joy in discovering what the day would bring. That’s why I take each day as its own.”

  And James knew that this morning, Barden had done exactly that. He had seen James coming. It was why he’d been waiting at the door.

  But he hadn’t seen Ethan.

  Barden interrupted James’s thoughts. “So tell me about this wonderful surprise I just experienced. Tell me about your student.”

  Ethan stood at the edge of the torchlight, peering through the gate into the small soldier’s compound. A guard slouched against the wall, looking bored. When Ethan made eye contact, the man straightened slightly.

  “Whatcha want, kid?”

  “Oh—nothing, sir,” Ethan replied quickly. “My master is visiting Barden, and I didn’t have anything to do, so I thought I’d come take a look.”

  “Not much to see,” the guard said lazily. “Most everyone’s out on patrol. Just me and a few others here. That and a couple of prisoners.”

  “Do you mind if I wait here for my master?”

  “I suppose not.”

  A few moments of awkward silence passed as Ethan tried to look inside the compound without looking like he was trying.

  “Apprenticed to someone then?” the guard asked, more out of boredom than curiosity.

  Ethan blinked. He had already said as much. Then he realized the man was simply passing the time.

  “I am,” Ethan said, “but I’ve only been with him a few months.”

  The guard perked up a bit, giving Ethan a more appraising look. “You look a might old to just be starting an apprenticeship. Should be in your third or fourth year by now, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Oh—no, that’s alright. This is actually my second master. I served two years with my first.”

  “Your first master go and die or something?” the soldier asked bluntly.

  “No. Master Jarod is still making furniture and such as always.”

  The guard didn’t respond at first, and Ethan thought the conversation was over. Then the man straightened, interest sharpening his features.

  “That wouldn’t be a Jarod Miller by chance, would it?”

  “Yes, yes it would. Do you know him?”

  “Maybe.” The guard scratched his chin. “I knew a Jarod Miller. Captain in the king’s army. We served together a couple years at the border. Always said when he got out, he’d build instead of destroy for a change. We used to joke that a ‘Miller’ would become a carpenter.”

  “That may be him,” Ethan said. “I know he was a soldier before he was a carpenter, but I didn’t know he was an officer.”

  “You wouldn’t, talking to him,” the guard snorted. “Never could have a serious conversation without cracking jokes. Used to call me ‘your Lordship.’ And that horrible, uneducated way of speaking he fakes, like he was some poor farm boy.”

  “That sounds just like him,” Ethan laughed. “If he didn’t make jokes or tell stories, he wouldn’t talk at all. Why did he call you Lordship?”

  “Because of my name. Reginald Alistern—but my friends call me Reg.” He gave a small, proud tilt of his head. “Jarod said it didn’t fit a lowly sergeant. Said it sounded noble. So ‘your Lordship’ it was—at least when the common soldiers weren’t around. He’d never undermine my authority.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Reginald. My name’s Ethan.”

  “Just call me Reg. If you’re friends with Jarod, then you’re friends with me.” He stepped away from the gate to shake Ethan’s hand.

  “So why aren’t you still with the old bear?” Reg asked as he retook his post.

  Ethan hesitated. He knew James wouldn’t want him revealing anything about being a Watcher—or about Ethan’s gift. He needed something true enough to satisfy Reg without inviting more questions.

  “My new master and James are friends,” Ethan said carefully. “James would visit Jarod regularly in Flagon since it was close to the school.”

  “Flagon is where Jarod set up shop?” Reg asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Well, maybe I should go down to visit when I have some leave.” Reg waved a hand. “Sorry for interrupting. You were telling me why you aren’t still training as a carpenter.”

  “Oh—right.” Ethan gathered his thoughts. “When James would visit, he started bringing me books. I could read, but I didn’t have much education. James thought everyone should try to improve themselves. I guess he looked at me like a special project since he was a proctor at the school. After a while, both he and Jarod felt I’d be better suited to training under James. They said I had a knack for learning.”

  Ethan felt proud of how smoothly he’d delivered that half?truth—until Reg’s eyes narrowed with sly amusement.

  “It’s a mighty curious thing,” Reg said.

  “What is?” Ethan tried to sound calm, though panic prickled at the back of his neck.

  “A proctor being away from the school in the middle of the year.” Reg’s tone was lazy, but his eyes were sharp. “And I know there are trade schools all over Esterria, but the only school near Flagon is the southern school for the gifted. So what would make a proctor for the gifted—who’d have to be gifted himself—leave his duties mid?term to travel to this nowhere place that’s home to a handful of soldiers and Barden the old seer?”

  Ethan’s stomach dropped. He’d said too much. And Reg—who had seemed half asleep moments ago—was far sharper than he appeared.

  “And why,” Reg continued, “would an apprentice to a proctor be eager to visit a training barracks while wearing a sword he seems very comfortable with? Mighty curious indeed.”

  Ethan didn’t know whether to lie, run, or simply melt into the ground. Reg watched him with a look that was half amusement, half challenge.

  Then Reg burst out laughing.

  “I’m just having some fun with you,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Nobody comes to this place and stays at the inn unless they’re visiting the barracks or old Barden. And I’ve watched the ones who visit that man. They’re not here for friendly social calls.”

  He leaned closer, lowering his voice.

  “And I’ll tell you something else. He’s the reason this barracks exists. You think the king would leave someone like Barden unguarded? The barracks, the soldiers, the ‘training patrols’—they’re all here to keep that one old man safe.”

  Ethan blinked. He hadn’t known that.

  “Whoever your master is,” Reg continued, “if he’s meeting with Barden, then he’s someone important. And if he’s traveling these roads without an escort, then he’s someone who can take care of himself. Now don’t worry, boy—I won’t go talking about your secrets. Every soldier here knows how to keep his mouth shut. But I couldn’t resist having a little fun at your expense.”

  Ethan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “It seems like you and Jarod have more in common than just serving together.”

  Reg laughed again—loud and genuine.

  “So tell me, son,” he said once he’d calmed, “which one of your masters coached you on that sword you’re wearing?”

  “Both, actually. Jarod started teaching me, and James has been continuing the lessons.”

  “Well, whatever you’re training for, that sword will surely be a help.” He paused, then added, “Now—I’ve been watching you crane your neck trying to get a look inside. How’d you like to look around?”

  “You’d let me do that?” Ethan asked, surprised.

  “We don’t allow civilians inside,” Reg said, “but everyone else is either sleeping or drinking. A quick peek around the courtyard won’t hurt. Just stay in the open and don’t get too close to the prisoner’s cell.”

  With a grin, Reg stepped aside, bowed dramatically, and swept an arm toward the gate.

  Ethan grinned back, took a steadying breath, and stepped into the courtyard—ready to see firsthand the trappings of a soldier.