Fraddir sighs to himself, smoothing his own priestly sash over his tattered shirt.  He hadn't expected anything else.  He wouldn't have, really, even if his god hadn't sent him that vision that implied something like this.  Being in a small kingdom next to the Eastern Empire was like that, for people who're paying attention.

Then, he looks up to see that the four other people in the shop have rushed out, and the silversmith is looking apprehensively at him.

"Before you close up - do you have a spare set of tools?"

"But - but you're a priest of Tembor - are you a smith too?"  The smith throws up his hands.  "And why're you still here in this city!?"

"I need them.  I have a plan.  I will pay you for them.  How much?"

"Save your money; pay for a Gate!  Or if you really want -"  He names a figure, much less than they would've cost yesterday.

Fraddir makes the deal for more than the smith's initial offer, but still less than he would've paid yesterday, and then slowly navigates through the terrified crowd to the royal castle.

The castle is in chaos, of course.  The king is gone; the Empire will soon be here; everyone is either making themselves scarce before the invaders or trying to make themselves look useful to them.

Somewhere inside this castle is also the eight-year-old Princess Arina.  Probably.  At least, the people in the city say she was last they'd heard of her.

(Fraddir wishes his god would've told him where to find her, too.  Or that he had Thoughtsensing.  Well, he'll probably be wishing for that a lot, now.)

The Imperial army isn't bothering to Gate to the capital of Marnon.  The Eastern Empire has the most Gate-capable mages in the world - they might have an immortal mage-Emperor recently returned to them - but still, Gates are too expensive to use just because.

Plus, Gates into enemy-occupied territory are risky.  King Japlet doesn't know of any ambushes ready in case some Imperial mages Gate in... but then, it wouldn't be the first time some kingdom being conquered had neglected to tell their king the full battle plan.  That's the downside of being known to capture and Compulsion enemy leaders... but the Emperor says there're enough advantages to keep doing it.

So the Imperial army lumbers on its way, pausing to destroy the shrines in every village and leave in their place images of the Immortal Emperor Arvad.

There're still two young pages remaining on duty at the castle gates to stare at Fraddir's priestly garb and then throw the gates open.

One of them instantly blurts out, wide-eyed, "Are the gods sending us a miracle?"

"Not now.  Not yet.  But I've had a vision; I have a plan.

"Take me to the Princess Arina."

"The Princess - she's just a little girl!  Why do you need her!?"

Well, all right, a very quiet and dutiful sort of girl, but still.

Because royal legitimacy is important, and she's about to be the queen, Fraddir doesn't say.  Because the King's thrown away his freedom in a battle that definitely wasn't going to work, and there's no reason to throw away the Princess's too.

"Do you want to leave her for the Empire to get their hands on her?"

The page looks suitably abashed.  "Right this way, Reverend."

He shows Fraddir through the half-deserted corridors to the nursery.

The nursery, at least, was reasonably calm... if one didn't think about why the woman who looked sort of like a governess might be folding the Princess's dresses with a half-full bag at the ready.

She looks over her shoulder at Fraddir, gasps, and bobs a curtsy.  "Reverend!  I'm Selma.  Why are you - er - still here?"

"I have a plan.  Are you the Princess's governess?"

Selma shakes her head, and then pauses and shrugs.  "Lady Varrin the governess left yesterday, and Mildred vanished overnight, so... you could maybe say I am now?"  She drops her voice.  "What is this plan of yours?"

There are several plans she could imagine a priest having right before the Empire comes, and some of them wouldn't be good for anyone around him.

"I need Princess Arina."

She steps back cautiously.  "What for?"

On the one hand, it's good that she's had some spirited attendants.  On the other hand, he's short on time, and he doesn't know quite how short.

"To take her away and protect her from the Empire, while I pursue the rest of my plan."

"Which is?" she asks, not really expecting an answer.

"I could tell you, but then you'd tell the Empire."

... This's still probably the best outcome Arina can get.

(Selma wasn't really convinced of her other plan to take Arina herself and say she was her niece or something.  For one, the Empire might go looking.  For another, Arina probably wouldn't stand for the lie.)

"She's in the chapel, with Betsy from the kitchens."

Fraddir is honestly surprised.  "I didn't know you were pious enough to send her there."

Selma shrugs.  "Frankly, I've been trying to get used to not being pious... no offense, but you know."  She shakes her head.  "But Arina is."

The castle chapel is a small room, with abstract designs on the walls in an attempt to not offend any of the dozen deities represented at small altar-shrines up and down the walls or seem to be favoring any one over another.  It's meant for urgent and private matters, Selma had explained; for larger ceremonies, an altar would be brought into one of the great halls, or everyone would go to one of the several temples close by.

Fraddir takes this in at a glance.  He's never been in the castle before; he's barely been in the city.  It feels rather impermanent, but maybe that's just the circumstances.

Princess Arina is kneeling in front of an altar, hands folded in whispered prayer to whomever might be listening:  to fix things, to keep out the nasty Empire, to save the country, to bring Father back...

She's by herself - she'd barely noticed when Betsy left, and then she shrugs and decides there's nothing better to do than pray a bit for her too, and then for everyone else who wasn't in the castle today.

The thought crosses her mind to go ask someone what's happening - there must be some Farseer still here - but from what the grown-ups have been whispering, she isn't quite sure she wants to know what's happening.  It's the first time in her life she might not want to know, and she doesn't really like the feeling.

Well, at least not till she's prayed some more that whoever's listening would make things be fixed.

And then the door opens, and she glances over her shoulder and sees Selma there with a strange man in a priestly sash, and a flash of hope flashes through her - "Have the gods sent you to fix everything!?"

That's not what he was expecting her to say, but it's better than some reactions he'd been worried about.

"Not quite, Princess."

She blinks back tears.  "Are you at least going to fix something?"

Fraddir nods.  "I'm here to take you somewhere you'll be safe, until we can free the kingdom."

"The gods have given me a vision; I have a plan."

"Where're we going!?  What's the plan!?"

Then she looks over at Selma.

Selma feels a sudden burst of pride and love that - amid chaos of invasion and the governess and everyone else vanishing, and then sudden hope - Arina's looking at her.  She wishes for a moment the plan to hide her as her niece had been able to work out somehow.

But she doesn't say any of this.  She gives a slight nod - and then, a moment later, squeezes Arina's shoulder.

"I can't tell you the plan just yet," Fraddir says.  "We mustn't let any of it get to the Empire."

"But Selma wouldn't tell them!"

Selma smiles ruefully.  No, if Arina isn't thinking about compulsions, this isn't the time to remind her when they don't need to.

"Thank you, Princess, but Reverend Fraddir doesn't know that I won't."

"So where are you taking me?  Or can't you tell me that either?"

"Into the forest, for now.  There're some things we need to do there."  That's vague enough.

Arina jumps up.  Finally, she's going on an Adventure!

"Yes!  And then we can start working to free the kingdom, right?  Who else's coming?  And we can ride there - Father tells me that I'll be able to speak to the horses sometime soon; I can't do it yet but I'll talk with them anyway -"

Fraddir would like to run the Princess down to the stables and gallop off to the woods right now.  His mage-sense keeps prickling imagining an Imperial Gate right behind them any moment.

But on second thought, some packing would be helpful.  He can find food, but he doesn't even have the first idea what else a young girl would need him to find.

So, he follows Selma and Princess Arina back to the nursery for the moment.

Princess Arina has plenty of questions.

"Did your god say why He told you just now?  Can He do anything about Father?  Or the Empire?  How long is this plan going to take?"

Fraddir doesn't have answers.

He's realizing he really doesn't know how to deal with little girls, but lying to the Princess is probably not the nicest idea, so he'll tell the truth.

"I don't know why He told me now.  Maybe we're the first kingdom with... what we need for this plan?  I don't know how long it's going to take, or what'll happen to your father the king."

Selma does have that answer, at least.  She pauses midway through stuffing a pack and bends down by Arina, putting her hand on her shoulder.  "I think the Emperor will probably keep your father alive, at least."

The rumor is he usually does that with conquered kings.  Why an immortal mage-Emperor would want that is another question, but she doesn't know that one.

"Good.  Then we can rescue him too, after rescuing everyone else."

She jerks closed the strap on her own small pack and slings it onto her back.  "I'm ready - come on, Selma, Reverend, let's go!"

Fraddir is going through the supplies in his own pack.  There was a decent amount of food and tools, and that jeweled flute and the magic necklace Selma had showed him a minute ago would probably be very useful... but would one girl really need so many dresses and hairbrushes...

He purses his lips when Arina mentions rescuing her father (it's probably impossible), and frowns at her "let's go."  He'd been planning for this to just be the two of them.

Selma notices the frown.  She doesn't want to argue in front of Arina.  Maybe that wouldn't be a problem; she's already proven a lot more resilient than Selma expected.  But then, she doesn't want to risk it now.

Either way, she puts her hand up in front of Fraddir.  "I know three good horses for us."

"Have you lived in the forest?"

"No, but I haven't lived under the Empire yet either.  And you'll need me."

She gestures at Arina.

Arina suddenly realizes what they're talking about.  "Of course Selma's coming!  We can't leave her here to get captured!"

Before Fraddir can reply, Selma raises her hand.  "I'll help with whatever plan the gods gave you, or I'll stay out of it if that's what you need, either way, as best as I can.  I swear by Tembor and all the gods."

And this was someone who'd been trying not to be pious.

And he really doesn't have the least idea how to calm down the Princess if he says "no."

And he's probably going to have a lot more problems like that in the future.

And it's possible that he might need some help with some of his smithing.

The only question is whether he can trust her... and she's obviously loyal to the Princess...

"Do you want me to swear too, Reverend?"

She'd mean every word of it - she already means every word that Selma said

She's the Princess.  And she'd been in the vision herself.  Unless the gods' Foresight is wrong, there's no way she'll betray the plan.

"There's no need from you, Princess," he says immediately.

"Selma - I accept your oath; let's finish packing and get going before the Empire gets here."

They ride.

Arina is wearing a dingy mud-stained cloak that Fraddir gave her.  It's the worst thing she's ever worn, and she's eagerly waiting to take it off, but she knows it's important to stay in disguise.  She stays quiet and wide-eyed as they ride through the chaos of the city.

Her people, she thinks dumbly.  Her people, brought to this.

"Be strong," Selma whispers to her.  "Be brave."

Arina slightly nods, and retreats back beneath the hood of the cloak.

They ride out of the city into the late afternoon, blending with the stream of refugees already leaving.  Another girl, wearing something almost as dingy, waves at Arina.  She waves back, not knowing what to say.

This's just like what would happen at the start of a ballad, she thinks.  She's going in disguise to avoid the enemy; people do that all the time in the ballads.  And then they learn all sorts of things and get Gifts and the gods choose them for plans...

... and she's going to get all of that too!  She's in a ballad!  It has to be!

Arina opens her mouth to mention this to Selma or Reverend Fraddir, but then she looks at their worried faces and closes it again.  Maybe they already know this.  She can tell them later.

She straightens up a bit.  Nobody ever sings about heroes and heroines slumping over with shock, much less being upset at the disguises they have to wear.

They turn off the main road onto a smaller and less-traveled forest trail as the sun sets.  "Still got a ways to go," Fraddir says, "but I'd rather not be seen too much."

He's been wishing for a while there was a Farseer around in the stream of refugees.  They've got a long ride ahead of them, and he doesn't have any idea where the enemy is or what's going on outside of this one stream of refugees.

Arina, who's been trying to think more about the ballad she has to be in now, asks about the biggest of the big questions she's realized she really wants to fill in.

"Reverend - who is the Emperor?  Why's he doing this?"

He suddenly realizes he's got a lot to explain.  Well, this question at least is easy.

"His name is Arvad.  He's a mage who's made himself immortal.  He says he was living before the Cataclysm; who knows if he's telling the truth there.  He says he founded the Empire; I'm willing to believe him there.  Eventually he said the other Emperors weren't ruling it right, and now he's ruling it himself."

Fraddir can imagine what Arvad must've been feeling seeing so many generations of people enacting his plan the wrong way.  Except, well, Arvad's plan was an evil plan in the first place.

"Why's he making the Empire -- do all this?"

Fraddir shakes his head.  "I don't know."

Selma has actually heard this story.  The former Imperial ambassador had told it several times.  "They say he's mad at the gods for what they've been doing with the world.  He thinks the world needs more big projects like the Imperial canals, and the gods aren't worth anything if they aren't doing that."

Arina thinks a minute about this.  The gods are, well, the gods.  They do good things.  They're... the ones telling this ballad, maybe.  "But... why?  Why's he think that?"

Fraddir and Selma both shake their heads in ignorance.

"How did he make himself immortal?  And if he didn't start out ruling his Empire himself, why'd he change his mind and say nobody else was ruling it the right way?"

Selma pauses, trying to remember.  "They say Arvad said that the other emperors were still letting themselves be influenced by the gods too much, and that meant the Empire was turning out wrong.  And then he vanished for a while - I don't know what he was doing then - but then when your grandfather was king here, Arvad came back and took the throne himself.  They didn't say anything more about why he did that.  And I don't know how he made himself immortal, either."

(Fraddir actually didn't know a lot of what Selma had said about Emperor Arvad.  There're disadvantages to living out in the countryside.  He's already glad she's here.)

He sighs.  "I don't know how either, but I'd guess it involves blood magic."

Arina shivers at the idea of blood magic.

And then she shivers again.

"I'll have to fight the Emperor eventually, won't I?"

Fraddir's vision had shown the Princess fighting someone with magic.  The gods hadn't shown him just whom she was fighting.  But he can guess.

"The gods tell me you will have to fight.  They didn't say who, but... I think so."

... Is it something he can do to hug the Princess? He isn't sure - at least yet - so he bows his head and doesn't.

Arina nods, still shivering.  "If that's my part in the song."

Two days later, the Empire arrives.

At dawn, the Imperial Army marches into Marnon's capital without any resistance.

A few people throw rotten apples and such, until a Military Police detachment grabs and whips the closest throwers and posts a sign saying further resistance will be dealt with more harshly.

The first several temples are promptly burned, the remaining priests are arrested for possible future martyrdom (they're rather hoping for it - all the priests who weren't are fled or hiding), and guards are posted outside the other temples conspicuously noting down the names and physical description of everyone who comes too close.

By the afternoon, Imperial Duke Brettian Arnault is sitting in what used to be the royal castle of Marnon, sitting behind what's now his desk.  It's fairly clear at the moment, but at this point he's just waiting for trouble.  There always is, when you're sitting in gods' territory.  Or when you're running a military operation.  And he's doing both.

At the moment, Duke Arnault is glaring at Lord Teppin, who used to be the Royal Marnon Vice-Chamberlain.  The Military Police have regretfully explained to him that Teppin is the highest-ranking person they've found in the city, and Arnault is just waiting to see if that's the first sign of some trouble.  Still, he's going to play out his hand - he told them to give Teppin the basic truthtelling and nonviolence compulsions, and bring him in for an interview.

"Well?" Arnault folds his hands and gives Teppin a long glare.  "What is the state of things?"

Teppin frowns, trembling.  "I... I surrender!"

Arnault laughs ruefully.  "Your king's already signed that.  Not that it matters.  I'm here" (he gestures to his comfortable chair), "you're there; that's not changing.  So I'll ask it again:  What's going on here?"

"Chaos!  Chaos!  Everyone's trying to get out or hunker down or -"  Teppin throws up his hands.  "The king didn't leave us any plan; I was just -- waiting for you!"

"Until my men pulled you down from your tower."

Arnault folds his hands and looks over Teppin's shoulder to a carved griffin's-head candlestick holder by the door.  Some people could get around the compulsions enough to hide something - he'd rather that than have people babbling about everything tangentially related; they can do that to the other interrogators - but he's pretty sure Teppin isn't doing that.

So he presses.  "All right, let's be specific, then.  Princess Arina - I know she was here; what happened to her?"

"She left day before yesterday, same day as the battle.  I think.  It's not like anyone arranged it and let me know!"  He shakes his head.  "One of her ladies was with her, and some priest, they said.  They didn't say who or where to."

Arnault sighs.  He hates it when things are falling apart like this.  It's not like it serves any purpose - it's not like it's going to help Marnon at all - it's just going to make things a little more difficult for him!  Are the people trying to spite him?  Are the gods throwing around this chaos just to make his life worse?

But the Princess's run.  And people know about it.  Even if he captures her tomorrow, there'll still be rumors and imposters popping up for the next ten years at least.  And that's before the chance there's some actual god-plot in this.

He really should alert the Office of Inquiry.

He hates the Office of Inquiry.

Well, that can wait a bit, just in case he really does capture her tomorrow.  "Orderly!" he barks.  "Double the search parties, and make sure they've all got Princess Arina's description!"

By back roads and a longer ride than Arina or Selma have taken ever before, they finally reach Fraddir's cabin.

Arina is feeling exhausted in so many ways she hadn't imagined she could feel.

But she's safe.  At least for now.

Arina sinks down in the stables, on the bale of straw that's shortly going to become her bed.  Sometime very very soon, she's going to want to wash off all the dust in that stream nearby.  Sometime sort of soon, Fraddir's plan is going to be ready, and she's going to have to - somehow - fight this immortal mage Emperor.

But for now, she'll just rest.

"So... that is your plan."

"You do know that Arina doesn't even have any Mage-Gift?  And you're planning to send her to fight what could be the whole Empire?"

Fraddir nods.  "The gods didn't just show me this buried pool of magical power; they showed me some very promising devices buried with it.  I need to study what they do - and probably improve them - but I expect they'll let Arina use this even without mage-gift.

"That'll take me a year, at least.  And in that time, I'm hoping to find out more about how much power she'll need."

"I wish we knew where this pool came from...  but the gods did give it to us..."

Selma trails off.  Everything about this seems very dangerous.  But she isn't a mage, and she's never even talked with mages before now, so she's probably wrong.

She moves on to another issue.  "But why Arina?"

"Maybe it came from before the Cataclysm?  And..."

Fraddir frowns.

"The gods told me to give it to Arina.  But that does make sense.  If we had some trustworthy battle-mage, that'd be one thing - but I think they're all gone or captured.  I'm a mage, but not a battle-mage.  There's enough power in here that - with these devices - I don't think Arina's not having native Mage-Gift will make that much of a difference."

Selma stares back toward the cabin where Arina's grooming the horses for the third time that day.

"She does have that Wild Gift too.  Maybe the gods are thinking of that, whatever it'll be..."

"Yes... That might be another reason to wait.  Hopefully her Gifts will manifest soon."

"Don't go hoping it'll be soon.  If her Gifts manifest early, that means she's in distress."

But it probably will be soon, unless Fraddir's literally planning for them to stay in the woods for a year or more.  As soon as Arina sees anything the Empire is doing, Selma is sure, she'll be feeling distressed... and Selma just hopes that Fraddir's plan will be ready soon enough.

And that the vision from the gods proves true, and the plan will work.