from the realm, promising to return when we had need of him.”
“Well, we have need of him,” said Kors, “and he has not appeared.”
Calliande said nothing. Something else bothered her. She remembered Kalomarus very well. He had been one of her dearest friends. The Magistrius Marius had been like a second father to her, and the Keeper Ruth like a second mother. Kalomarus had been like an older brother – a sour-tempered, profane-mouthed, hard-drinking older brother, an older brother who had nonetheless been one of the most formidable warriors she had ever seen.
Yet she could not remember how he had become the Dragon Knight.
She knew he had been a minor knight when she had met him as the Keeper’s apprentice, and she knew that he become the Dragon Knight a few years after she had taken up the Keeper’s mantle…but she had no memory of how he had become the Dragon Knight, which seemed strange because it was an immensely important question.
There was only one possible explanation.
Calliande had removed the memory of the Dragon Knight’s sword from her mind.
When Tymandain Shadowbearer had captured her on the first day she had awakened, he had asked her about a staff and a sword. In hindsight, he had been trying to find the staff of the Keeper, hoping to claim the power of the Keeper’s mantle or at least neutralize it as a threat to his plans. The sword must have been the sword of the Dragon Knight. From what Calliande understood, the sword held the power of the last of the dragons that had once ruled this world before the high elves, and it bestowed that power upon its bearer.
Yet she didn’t know how Kalomarus had found the sword, or what had happened to it or him after the Frostborn had been defeated the first time.
She must have removed the memory from herself, just as she had hidden her memory the first time.
But why? It made no sense. Calliande had recovered her full powers. If ever she needed the sword of the Dragon Knight, it was now, in the hour of the realm’s dire peril. So why had she hidden it from herself?
For a moment, Calliande was so irritated with her own past decisions that she wanted to hit herself.
Once again, she could just imagine what Morigna would have said. Ridmark would have…
She pushed the thought of Ridmark out of her head. If she thought about him for too long, she would get upset, and she dared not show weakness before the lords and knights. The Keeper was supposed to be a figure of authority and calm and cool judgment, not a young woman weeping because her heart had been broken.
“I do not know,” said Calliande. “Perhaps after we take Tarlion and Arandar is crowned, we can search the records of the Magistri.”
“Many such records are recorded there, sealed only for the eyes of the Magistri,” said Master Kurastus. “There is also the Tower of the Keeper, sealed since you disappeared two and a half centuries ago. Perhaps there are secrets hidden within.”
“Perhaps,” said Calliande. “But for now, I believe we should focus upon the allies that we can recruit, and I believe we can gain the manetaurs and dwarves to our cause. If not to fight against Tarrabus, then to fight against the Frostborn alongside the Anathgrimm and Queen Mara. With your permission, Prince Arandar, I would like to depart at once.”
Arandar said nothing for a while, tapping his fingers on the table.
“Very well,” he said at last. “Your counsel seems good to me. I am loath to be deprived of your assistance, but your logic rings true. It means little if we defeat Tarrabus only to be overwhelmed by the Frostborn.”
“I shall leave before the day is out,” said Calliande.
“You will not go alone, I trust,” said Arandar.
“No,” said Calliande. “I will have my apprentice with me, along with Sir Gavin.”
“And additional men-at-arms,” said Arandar. “You plan to go to the Range first?” Calliande nodded. “Dux Sebastian. Please choose