Baletta Fransca had not slept in two days, and she was fairly sure it was the Captain's fault.
He had gone missing on the morning after the twentieth night. Peaker had knocked on his door at first light and found the bed made and cold, and nobody on the Keep had seen him leave. The sentries on the western postern remembered a lantern and a black-haired boy who said he was checking on them. That was all anyone knew.
"He's a Sage," Commander Vanessa had said when Peaker brought it to her. "Sages wander. He'll be back by supper."
He was not back by supper.
He was not back by the next morning either, and by then the Eleventh Squad had stopped pretending not to worry. Iren had run the river road all the way to Hollin's Ford and back, certain the Captain had gone there, and come back with nothing. Doron had not said a word all day, which for Doron was not unusual, but he had also not eaten, which was. Jalsket's hair had been white since breakfast, and he had stopped trying to hide it.
