"I'm sorry, I thought it was symbolically clear. I apologize."
    "Well, since the auguries were completely nonspecific....."
    "They were either extremely good or extremely bad, depending on when and how they were cast."
    "Yes, but there's no reason to think that this is going to do any good." Given the nonspecific nature of the omens, this course struck me as something like trying to catch fish by throwing rocks in the water.
    She insisted that it would, of course, and spent an entire afternoon talking about symbolic circles and the importance of the gates. From the look on Conner's face he was trying to decide between expiring from boredom and the cold. I continued to have my doubts—I did still feel a considerable responsibility toward the people of Caer Myrrthin, and wanted to get back and make sure nothing untoward happened there.
    There were roads in this part of the kingdom, so we made much better time, and were in York for Imbolc. Dawnsgate had been rebuilt at some point following Imperial style but continued to fulfill its function quite well. It recognized me, and the standard.
    Stormsgate was a bit hard to find; we almost passed it the first time, thinking it was a monastery. It was small and had one round tower. There has never been an invasion through Stormsgate. As with the others, I felt this place recognize us as we rode up; it was a sleepy place, only slowly awakening to our presence, and altogether more pleasant than its northern cousin. A man with a spear walked out to meet us.
    "Evening," I said, and identified myself. "Just making a little tour, seeing how things are going." In contrast to the others, this one looked all but abandoned. It was clear as we were welcomed and invited in that the man talking to us was the only one there.
    "Didn't you used to have more people here?" Conner asked.
    "Yes, there were."
    "How long ago?" Meara asked.
    "I don't know; been a while."
    "How long has it been just you?" Conner tried.
    "Not sure," he admitted. "Been a while."
    "How many people were here before it was just you?"
    "What did you have for breakfast?" Meara asked.
    "Well I can hardly remember that most days," the wizard said.
    "Do you guys have any records or anything like that around?" she continued.
    "Surely, a tax collector comes by....."
    "There's nothing to tax," the man with the spear shrugged. "The commander used to keep records, there's some in his office."
    "If I may check them?" Meara asked.
    "Feel free."
    "Thank you."
    Conner went up to the watchtower while the rest of us chatted with the watchman and Gannon snooped; he was the one who noticed that despite all the cloaking spells on it, the lone watchman was carrying around what might as well be a minor god disguised as a spear.
    He took Meara down to look at the records, checked the last volume.
    "Harold! That's it, that's my name. Pleased to meet you."
    "Pleased to meet you also, my name's Meara." Reading, she was less than surprised to find that Harold had been left there because they couldn't entirely deman the garrison when the Empire invaded. That was 250 years ago. Once we'd all gathered in the main hall again, "So Harold, out of curiosity, if we were to have the king send a garrison here, would that be welcome to you?"
    "We could definitely use some more men," he nodded seriously. "It's hard to keep a good watch on a section of the coast just by myself."
    "And yet I feel that you're doing an admirable job for just one individual."
    "Well, I try," he said modestly.
    "So, we wintered in Deathsgate," Conner told him, "and there was an incursion of humanoid monstrosities there, you ever get anything like that?"
    "No."
    "Just checking. Nasty squid?"
    "Sometimes."
    "You poke 'em with a spear once or twice, they go away?"
    "It takes a little more than that. Every now and then you get giant squid or a big sea serpent or something decides to come up to land."
    "Perhaps a sea lion or two with pretensions of grandeur?" Meara suggested.
    "Sea lions aren't usually too bad, you whack 'em a couple of times, they take off. Get the occasional alarm. Once we had a scouting party of those fish-guys."
    "There anything in the records room other than the records for just this place?" Conner asked. "Do you have a library?" They did not. The records were largely in very archaic Powyian, and most of them were of nothing much happening. "Is there a town nearby here?" We hadn't passed through one in well over a week; the coast here is too rough to be useful for anything and the ground isn't terribly good.
    "Of course. If I grow enough wheat on my own to eat through the winter I can't grow enough corn to make any alcohol."
    "Well, there's a tradeoff I'd be unwilling to make," he nodded.
    "We might be able to cure that," Meara said. "Alcohol is transportable."
    Harold looked pleased. "If you happen to want to mention to the king that we could use some new men transferred to the garrison, that would be good."
    "What we need to do, is rotate the people from Deathsgate to here," Conner suggested. "They'd love that!"
    We all had to agree. This place was pleasant, warm, had a lovely view, and the duty was lighter. "I'll mention it to my father."
    Later that night Harold managed to get me to one side and said, "I really hate to be rude, but I.... I've been a little isolated down here. Who's on the throne?"
    "Connel ap Rhys."
    "Oh, good. I'd hate to get that wrong."
    "Understandable; that would be a certain amount of embarrassment, yes."
    We toured his defenses; there were large rocks placed regularly along the cliff edge, suitable for rolling down on adventurous sea serpents, bolt and arrow caches, bonfires built up on platforms so they too could be rained down on attackers. We took notes.
    Meara asked if there was anything else he might need, aside from re-manning the place, sending along a priest and some news once in a while.
    "A bard would be nice," he admitted. "Haven't heard any music in a while."
    "If you want, while we're here, I can sing and do stuff like that." She did her best to catch him up on doings in the kingdom, and of course our adventures, and sang a few current songs.
    In the morning we set out once again for Rutland. It was late March when we reached the capital; things were blooming, birds in full song, and all the rest of it, which made me determined not to spend long there.
    They were overjoyed to see us, and I was rather pleased to see them myself. It had been a while. We talked about how the castle was coming along for a bit.
    "Anything new I should know about?" my father asked after all the pleasantries were done.
    I looked at Meara. "She has it down really well now, been practicing the whole time." The rendition went over well. We returned the banner, which seemed to be humming happily.
    Then we told him about Seagate, and Harold.
         

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