As he follows Noan from the castle, Til can’t help but compare his speed to that of a criminal fleeing the scene of a crime. The man doesn’t stop, or even slow as they pass through the town and into the countryside around it. Hunkered down over his horse, pushing it faster and faster, Til wants to tell him that it’s not about speed, though time is of the essence, but that they’re going to run their horses into the ground if they’re not careful.

  It crosses Til’s mind that Noan is fleeing the castle, or, perhaps, something or someone within.

  The urge to flee the capital had lessened the older Til got and the more time he’d spent as Honored. It hadn’t left him completely, though, and as the castle, then the city, grows ever smaller behind them, a tightness in his entirety eases as well, from the tips of his toes all the way up to the ever-present pressure at the base of his skull.

  He doesn’t put much thought behind it, just puts it to the fresh air and the ability to ride freely for the moment. That and trying to keep up with the Wizard.

  It’s only as the city walls have shrunk to nearly nothing that Noan finally slows.

  “So-” Til gasps, feeling almost as out of breath as poor Stoney heaving for air beneath him, “Where exactly are we going?”

  “Wherever we need to.” Noan answers, looking windswept and pink, eyes shining as bright as his smile. Nothing like Til’s already exhausted and frazzled.

  Til waits to see if the Wizard plans to add anything to that somewhat cryptic statement. A few moments pass while they sit in silence, rocked gently by the motion of the horses. Realizing Noan isn’t going to add anything, Til says, “That’s not exactly helpful.”

  “My apologies, but I’m afraid there’s really not a better answer in this situation.”

  Squinting at the other from the recesses of his helmet, Til wonders if it’s too late to turn around. Surely they were close enough still for him to be able to turn back.

  It’s not worth thinking about. He’d agreed to be a part of this journey, and even though the last time he’d traveled this hard through these lands, he’d been rushing like the flames of his anger were nipping at his heels, pushing him faster onward like it was something he’d had a chance to escape.

  That time was long behind him now.

  Now, he needed to figure out where they were going next.

  The night before, he’d been able to examine the maps to some extent, but he wasn’t exactly comfortable saying that he’d had them memorized. It’d been another story in his youth, but that was a long time ago, and he’d had no need to remember them since coming to the castle. Trying to remember what he’d seen the night before, Til concentrates on the memory. The map and the towns had only been uncovered a little while. The crystals had covered most of it too soon for him to memorize anything, but at least he’d known their direction.

  “Well, we’re not going north, east, or south,” Til says aloud, more to himself than to Noan, but loud enough for the other to hear.

  “How clever you are to know the direction we’re headed.” Noan drawls, not even giving Til the satisfaction of looking his way.

  Feeling the flush of embarrassment heating up his cheeks and ears, Til thinks Noan is taking far too much pleasure in having all the information to himself. He can’t be surprised that the King’s favorite would know all the details, all the specifics that would certainly make this all the easier, but Noan keeps it to himself, choosing not to say anything. Fighting the blush, Till looks at the other, trying to compel him to say something, anything, to give him even a hint of where they were going, or what to expect.

  This, this not knowing, this was one of the few things that could, and would, send Til right over the edge.

  Unfortunately, Til’s silent attempts to force Noan to speak were fruitless. He has to get the information in another way, one that would also be much harder.

  “I wasn’t aware there was much in this direction worth looking at, let alone stealing from,” Til says conversationally, as though discussing the weather.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “There’s not, not really. With how often fighting rolls this way, the swarms of bandits, I wouldn’t want to live here.” Noan’s gaze never leaves the road, but there’s something in his voice that leaves Til wondering what the Wizard had left behind when he’d gone to the castle. “And it’s certainly less populated than most of the kingdom, but still, there are those who choose to make their homes here.”

  “Enough for some foe to try to steal them?” Til asks, adding on, “Who do you really think is behind this?”

  “Why do you ask? Aren’t you supposed to follow the King’s word on all things?”

  “Perhaps I wanted to know what you thought.”

  “Whoever or whatever they are doesn’t matter; all that matters is they’re starting here, where the fighting was once strongest.” Noan’s voice has a note in it that pulls Til’s curiosity back to the forefront of his mind.

  “It’s been a long time since there was fighting through here,” Til says loud enough to be sure Noan can hear him, but softer, he adds, “There used to be a great city near the border before that.”

  Noan’s head flicks to look at Til, eyes big with shock.

  Then his brows drop, and he looks over Til, seemingly searching for something. Though what, the knight doesn’t know. Eventually, Noan says, “I’ve heard of it, Dana City. I’m surprised you know of it.”

  “My family often passed through when I was a child,” Til tells him openly. There’s no need for him to hide the half-truth. He hopes that sharing something of his own past might persuade the other to share about himself. “But I suppose it belonged to an age done and gone now.”

  “Is that why you became a knight?”

  Looking ahead to a small copse of trees, wary even with the knowledge none would be so bold as to attack a knight this close to the capital city, Til considers. “I wouldn’t say it’s the only thing that led me down my path, but it weighed into my choices.”

  “You wouldn't be the only one. Disaster leads so many people to the capital.” Noan looks back to the road, shoulders higher than they were before, more tense, “I won’t even think of how many will be brought there by this tragedy.”

  “You think the missing children will lead people to the capital?” Til nudges; he wants to know more, and this is the first opening that Noan’s given him.

  Shaking his head, Noan answers, “In one way or another.”

  Yanking the reins in hand, Noan abruptly turns his horse down a dirt path that could easily pass for a well-used deer trail. “Come on, I think this will lead us where we want to go.”

  “Which is where exactly?” Til asks, turning his horse around to follow Noan.

  “If we go this way, “ Noan explains slowly, like he’s talking to a child, “it’ll take us past where some of the disappearances have already happened; we might be able to cut off the enemy this way.”

  In spite of the condescending tone of his voice, Til still hears the unspoken words, “And we might be able to save more of the children.”

  Til has so many questions, so many gaps in his knowledge. How is he supposed to be able to help if he doesn’t have the answers? He needs to know more, to have more to work with.

  But he knows that even if he asks, he won’t get the answers he seeks.

  How’s a knight supposed to plan anything under these circumstances?

  “Do we know how many of the Touched we’re looking for?” Til asks, realizing as he speaks how broad the question is, he tacks on, “Or even where?”

  Noan sucks his teeth, loudly, “Well, we do. Somewhat. We’re going to some of the smaller villages, ones that are more easily overlooked-”

  Til listens, thinking of how close they were to having to deal with the children. Til hadn’t spent a lot of time around children, not since he himself had been one. And even before he’d come to the capital to learn and train, he’d been more focused on learning from his elders. He hadn’t had time to spend around babes or little children, and when he did have them cross his path, he usually did his best to return them to a parent before they started crying. Traveling with the children was by far the least appealing portion of this while quest, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.

  “-which might still have children capable of truly incredible things. They’re the kind of places Donner wouldn't bother sending an emissary to. Too small, too few people, too little need for goodwill from them. And the children won’t really know until they find their key, you know? So many people don’t even know they’re Touched, and if they make it out of childhood without learning they can heal, or harm, or make a rainstorm-”

  If he’d had the time, Til would have learned at least the basics of childcare; that would probably have saved him some trouble. Maybe it wouldn’t all be bad, though? Perhaps the children would be more focused on the shiny Wizard and what they themselves might be capable of doing.

  “-But once they find they can do that one thing, once they begin learning, they’ll be able to learn how to do all kinds of amazing things. Things they never even dreamed possible. But they need to be taught by a good teacher, who will push them towards good-”

  With any luck, Til wouldn’t have to deal with the children.

  Noan could; he had to spend time with the Touched children, and he was probably good at it.

  And Til could protect them all.

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