Farilane

Praise for The Rise and Fall Series

Nolyn is masterfully executed, and the disparate storylines are equally intriguing as they are spun beautifully together into an ending full of gnarled twists and grim surprises that will leave you clamoring for more. For true fans of epic fantasy, Michael J. Sullivan’s The Rise and the Fall series is not one to miss. — David Estes, Amazon #1 bestselling author of Fatemarked on Nolyn

Breathtakingly epic in scope, yet the characters are infused with the breath of genuine humanity that makes Sullivan’s work utterly unique. — Andy Peloquin, bestselling author of The Silent Champions series on Nolyn

Vengeance and love test the boundaries of honor in this phenomenal epic fantasy by Michael J. Sullivan. Heart-wrenching and powerful, you can’t help but root for Nolyn and Sephryn as they struggle to unravel the plots against them before the final trap is sprung. I loved every minute and can’t wait to see what happens next! — Megan Haskell, award-winning author of The Sanyare Chronicles on Nolyn

With Nolyn, a true master of epic fantasy shines even brighter. Sullivan has an amazing ability to craft a brilliant ensemble of characters and lead readers on an adventure that keeps them wide-eyed and begging for more with each expertly written page. — Dyrk Ashton, author of The Paternus Trilogy on Nolyn

Finished it a few hours ago and still reeling from the last couple of chapters. Absolutely amazing writing . . . what a story. — Beta Reader, on Farilane

Even in an outstanding series, Farilane stands out above many of the other installments. — Beta Reader, on Farilane

The entire story was great, but the ending was an absolute roller coaster that I could not stop reading. — Beta Reader, on Farilane

Works by Michael J. Sullivan

The Rise and Fall

Nolyn • Farilane

Esrahaddon (Summer 2023)

The Legends of the First Empire

Age of Myth • Age of Swords • Age of War 

Age of Legend • Age of Death • Age of Empyre

The Riyria Revelations

Theft of Swords (The Crown Conspiracy & Avempartha)

Rise of Empire (Nyphron Rising & The Emerald Storm)

Heir of Novron (Wintertide & Percepliquis)

The Riyria Chronicles

The Crown Tower • The Rose and the Thorn

The Death of Dulgath • The Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter

Forthcoming: Drumindor

Standalone Novels

Hollow World (Sci-fi Thriller)

Short Story Anthologies

Heroes Wanted: The Ashmoore Affair (Fantasy: Riyria Chronicles)

Unfettered: The Jester (Fantasy: Riyria Chronicles)

Unbound: The Game (Fantasy: Contemporary)

Unfettered II: Little Wren and the Big Forest (Fantasy: Legends of the First Empire)

Blackguards: Professional Integrity (Fantasy: Riyria Chronicles)

The End: Visions of the Apocalypse: Burning Alexandria (Dystopian Sci-fi)

Triumph Over Tragedy: Traditions (Fantasy: Tales from Elan)

The Fantasy Faction Anthology: Autumn Mist (Fantasy: Contemporary)

About the Book

(From the Back Cover)

Some truths are dangerous, certain secrets best concealed, and one story never should have been written at all.

Being an unwanted twin in the imperial line of succession, Farilane becomes a scholar, an adventurer, and—in a time when reading is forbidden—a hunter of books. Her singular obsession is finding the mythical Book of Brin, a tome not just lost but intentionally buried. Although she is respected and beloved by the Teshlor Knights, not even their legendary skills can protect her, for what she finds is more dangerous than what she sought.

From the three-time New York Times best-selling author Michael J. Sullivan, Farilane is the second novel in The Rise and Fall trilogy. This latest set of stories sits snugly between the Legends of the First Empire series and the Riyria books (Revelations and Chronicles). With this tale, Michael continues his tradition of unlikely heroes who must rise to the call when history knocks, demanding to be let in. This series will conclude in the summer of 2023 with the release of Esrahaddon, the final piece in a narrative that began in 2008 and contains nineteen full-length novels spread across four series.

Farilane is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the copying, scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book (other than for review purposes) without permission is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book, prior written permission can be obtained by contacting the author at michael@michael-j-sullivan.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Farilane © 2022 by Michael J. Sullivan

Cover illustration © 2020 by Marc Simonetti

Cover design © 2021 Shawn T. King

Map © 2021 by Michael J. Sullivan

Interior design © 2021 Robin Sullivan

Version 1.02

978-1-943363-31-5

All rights reserved.

Published in the United States by Riyria Enterprises, LLC

Learn more about Michael’s writings at michael-j-sullivan.com

To contact Michael, email him at michael@michael-j-sullivan.com

World Map

Maps are problematic on e-readers that don’t have adequate resolution to display them, and for this reason you can access a high-resolution map online from this link.

This book is dedicated to my fellow indie-authors.

Look how far we’ve come, and always remember that the road ahead has no limits.

May each of you find as much joy as I have by braving your own path.

Contents

Praise for the Series

Works by Michael J. Sullivan

About the Book

Copyright

World Map

Dedication

Author’s Note

Chapter 1: The Twelfth Night

Chapter 2: The Ragman

Chapter 3: The Book

Chapter 4: The Bear Man

Chapter 5: The Scribe

Chapter 6: The Truth of His Story

Chapter 7: The Ferry

Chapter 8: The Mystic Wood

Chapter 9: The Greenway Round

Chapter 10: The Truth About Lies

Chapter 11: Dibben

Chapter 12: Unexpected Consequences

Chapter 13: Merredydd

Chapter 14: Sephryn

Chapter 15: Going Home

Chapter 16: Homecoming

Chapter 17: The First Minister

Chapter 18: Birthday

Chapter 19: The Gamble

Chapter 20: The Horn

Chapter 21: The Library

Chapter 22: The Prophecy

Chapter 23: A Blizzard in Summer

Afterword

Kickstarter Backers

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Author’s Note

Since you’re reading this, I must assume you fall into one of three categories: You’ve read Nolyn and enjoyed it enough to come back for more; or you’re a completionist and insist on finishing all the books of a series, regardless of how you feel about them; or it could also be that you just picked this book off a shelf because you liked the cover but know nothing about me or the world of Elan. Given these three options, I’d like to say thank you for coming back, or for sticking with me, or welcome to my world.

The book you’re about to read is the second in a trilogy, but don’t fret, newcomer, because it’s not necessary to start at the beginning. Like the previous book, Nolyn, this one can be read as a stand-alone story. The reason why has to do with how I structured the trilogy. Most of my other series tend to be a continuous story divided into complete episodes. They feature the same characters that develop and grow over the course of a multi-book plot. For this series, The Rise and Fall, I went a different way.

My desire was to tell the two-thousand-year history of the Novronian Empire, something that features prominently in my two other series. Legends of the First Empire shows the empire coming into existence. The other, the Riyria Revelations series, takes place long after the empire is gone. This left a glaring hole between the two, where readers could almost connect the dots, but not quite.

I was faced with the dilemma of covering a lot of ground. To do this in the same manner as I had with Legends and Riyria would require hundreds of novels. I’m not a young man, and I don’t have that kind of time.

My solution was to create a trilogy of one-and-done novels that focus on the lives of three significant individuals who alter the course of history and highlight the most distinct periods in that era—hence Nolyn, Farilane, and Esrahaddon. These books are separated by significant gaps in time. Nolyn starts eight hundred and fifty years after Legends. Farilane picks up a bit over one thousand years later. Esrahaddon will take place two hundred years after that. As a result, there isn’t much opportunity for long-term character development—unless you realize that the main character in each book is the empire itself.

Farilane is the second novel in this series, forming the keystone that joins the eras. As such, Princess Farilane has a foot in both worlds, so the novel blends the elements and styles of both Legends and Riyria.

This was a fun book to create, and truth be told, the one I was most excited to write. I began sketching it in note form long before the other two. Farilane heavily influenced each of the other books’ focus and direction, which I think would have pleased her. There was even a time when I considered skipping Nolyn altogether and revealing what had happened through commentary and discoveries in ancient texts. In the end, I decided that was cheating. I really couldn’t skip the first eighteen hundred years and claim to have covered the history of the empire. I’m glad I didn’t, as Nolyn helped provide vital foundations for what comes next.

For those of you who are curious, or concerned, or both, the draft of Esrahaddon has already been completed. It will be my twentieth published novel, and unless editors run rampant through its pages with bloody scalpels dripping with red ink, it will be my longest. If nothing unforeseen happens this year or the next, Esrahaddon should release in the early summer of 2023. And we all know that nothing unexpected is likely to occur in the 2020s. That’s just ridiculous.

My greatest hope at present is that everyone reading this Author’s Note will also be here to read the one in Esrahaddon. I don’t care if you buy or read the book. I’d just like for you to still be around.

Michael J. Sullivan

January 13th, 2022

Chapter One

The Twelfth Night

Another series of bright-white explosions erupted where sea met shore as Farilane stood on the rocky coast and scanned the darkening sky for the star that would guide them to the treasure. That was the hope. Being that this was the twelfth night she’d stood at the same spot, Farilane had her doubts.

On the first three evenings, it had rained. The next two, while dry, were frustratingly overcast. The sixth day dawned blue, but by late afternoon, the clouds had returned as if they’d forgotten something. Poor weather continued throughout the seventh and eighth days. The three after that were literal washouts, forcing a retreat to her field camp or risk being rinsed into the sea. Trapped in her leaky tent, Farilane had reread her notebooks, verifying the calculations for the hundredth time. She’d missed nothing. That shelf of stone partway down a rocky cliff was the correct place. Everything except the weather was perfect, but time was running out. She couldn’t bear to wait for another year.

Then on the twelfth night, she caught a break. A star appeared.

Is that it? Kolby asked, pointing at the singular pinprick of light on the darkening horizon. There was hope in his voice.

Tell you in a minute. Farilane took out her astrolabe and positioned it directly over the staff she’d placed days before. She struggled to align the device’s rule with one hand while dangling the delicate instrument with the other. Be a dear and hold this for me, will you? She offered the ring at the top of the disk to him.

Kolby took the brass apparatus of movable plates with his left hand. Farilane had known he’d use his left before she had offered the instrument. His choice wasn’t arbitrary; nothing about Kolby ever was. He always reserved his right hand for his sword.

What is this thing? he asked, his eyes studying the device, his nose turned up as if the metal reeked.

You’re holding the entire universe in your hands. She smiled. So don’t drop it.

Kolby narrowed his eyes, first at her and then at the device, his concern turning to skepticism. He held the large ring at the full extent of his arm so that the bottom barely touched the top of the measurement staff, leaving the disk to hang like a lantern.

A lantern. Farilane smiled at the idea. Yes, that’s exactly what it is, a tool to illuminate the world.

Now hold still, she commanded.

How still? he asked.

Typical Kolby: precise, exacting, and literal. A byproduct of the training, no doubt. All Teshlors were that way to a degree—more than a bit inhuman, until you saw them drunk or angry. That didn’t happen often. She suspected that controlling one’s rage was also part of the training. If it wasn’t, it ought to be. An enraged Kolby topped Farilane’s list of the scariest things she’d ever seen.

Like you’re about to loose an arrow for a very important shot, one you can’t afford to miss.

Kolby nodded, took a deep breath, then held it. The astrolabe hung from his fist as if nailed to a tree.

Farilane resumed lining up the rule with the star. As she did, Virgil stirred. The philosopher woke with an unhappy moan. He had been napping on the cold rock for the last two hours.

Wiping his eyes, he got to his feet. Snow-white hair, long beard, and a dark cloak flew about him like living things. As he stretched his arms and neck, a grimace relented to the demands of a wide yawn.

How can he sleep on the eve of such an auspicious discovery, not to mention on such a narrow ledge?

The old philosopher was such a sound sleeper that he could doze on the back of a cow caught in a stampede during a thunderstorm. He’d always been that way and had gotten better at it with age. Well? he asked.

Give me a second, Farilane said. She rotated the astrolabe’s rete to the proper position, realigned the rule with the star, then read the face of the disk. That’s the Eye of the Bear, the brightest star in the constellation Grin the Brown—first evening star of early spring.

Are you done? Can I move now? Kolby asked.

No. Keep holding that bow steady, soldier. Farilane offered him a grin, then moved around to the other side of the astrolabe and peered through the same sight holes on the rule. There! she yelled, pointing down near the foaming water at a dark gap in the honeycombed cliff.

What’s she pointing at? Kolby asked Cedric, a note of concern in his voice. The younger soldier instantly advanced, and after taking a look, he shrugged.

Farilane had nearly forgotten Cedric was with them. Although physically larger than Kolby, he seemed smaller. She attributed this conflicting phenomenon to personality. Kolby had a presence, but Farilane couldn’t remember having heard Cedric speak. She had supposed he might be mute but felt it would be impolite to ask. Relax, she told the pair. We aren’t in any danger of being attacked.

You always say that, Kolby grumbled.

What are you worried about? She looked up at the rapidly fading, orange-cast sky, where a handful of seabirds soared. Man-eating seagulls?

Goblins, Virgil said. They didn’t name this the Goblin Sea because it’s shaped like one.

The Ba Ran are seafarers, Farilane pointed out. We’d see their ships if any were near.

Not necessarily, Virgil added. This area is littered with coves and caves. They could hide their vessels in any of them. That happens all the time. Haven’t you heard about that poor little village of Tur? It’s been ravaged over and over.

That’s all the way down on the southern tip of Belgreig. And goblins aren’t raiding that coast. Pirates are.

Perhaps, but let’s not forget that a thousand years ago, goblins came from out here and used a network of underground waterways to attack Percepliquis and kill Emperor Nyphron.

That’s only one theory, Farilane qualified. We both know there are several contradictory accounts of the first emperor’s death. And for the record, he died one thousand twenty-nine years, eleven months, and two weeks ago.

They all stared at her as if she’d belched.

How many hours? Virgil asked and then chuckled.

Confused as to why the scholar was laughing, she replied, Sixteen and a half. She glanced at the astrolabe. Give or take a minute or two.

Virgil stopped laughing, and they all stared at her, dumbfounded.

What? she asked. How precise do you need me to be?

His expression changed from amusement to shock. Ah no. That’s . . . that’s fine.

"Are you sure? Or would you prefer to discuss the ramifications of the Belgric War for a few hours before getting back to why I practically screamed There! twenty minutes ago?"

No one said anything.

Good. Because I was pointing out the cave entrance we’re looking for. I found it. It’s that one down below us. She took the astrolabe back from Kolby and carefully stowed it in her pack. Shall we, gentlemen?

You can’t be serious, Virgil said. It’s nearly night. Now that we know which hole to explore, can’t this wait until morning?

Farilane pointed at a hazy gray curtain of rain sweeping across the Goblin Sea. Wind is blowing our way. The last storm trapped us for days, and we’re running low on food. Besides, all these crevasses look the same, and if we come back in the morning, I doubt I’ll be able to identify the right one.

The old man frowned as he looked down the slick, jagged face of the cliff. "Allow me to rephrase. You don’t expect me to climb over slippery stone in the dark, do you?"

Why not?

The old man replied with a dangling jaw.

When she didn’t respond, he explained, I’m not a limber young woman. I’m sixty-eight years old, and even in my prime no one would have described me as athletic. He took a step forward for a better look, then grimaced. One slip and your man-eating seagulls will be pecking flesh off my shattered bones.

Virgil, she began, placing her hands on his shoulders, life is a gamble, my friend. The trick is to wager wisely, balancing risk against reward. At your age, nothing is too perilous. Working for a wedge of cheese at a leper colony wouldn’t be out of the question. And the reward waiting in that cave is so much better than a bit of cheese.

You can’t know that. The book you’re searching for has been intentionally hidden for centuries. I have to think there’s a reason. Perhaps you should reconsider the implications of unleashing such a thing upon the world.

I seek the truth, and the truth is always a good and noble goal.

Is it?

Yes. She nodded sharply. "For example, earlier you said you weren’t a limber young woman. This was meant to suggest the contrast between the two of us. But Cedric might interpret the comment to verify the all-too-vocal and false rumor that the imperial family is human. It’s possible Cedric could repeat the comment, erroneously describing me to his friends as a young woman, and thus further the misconception. If repeated enough times, that inaccuracy could be believed by millions. So, what began as an innocent joke between friends might become a distorted reality for future generations. She hoisted her pack to her shoulder and turned to the younger knight. For the record, I’m old enough to be Virgil’s great-great-great-grandmother, and I’m not a woman."

Cedric eyed the princess suspiciously.

Farilane frowned as she considered the myriad of things the young knight could be thinking. "What I meant is that I’m only part human. My father is descended from Nyphron who was elven—or Fhrey as they used to call themselves. She paused to calculate. Since all the emperors except Nolyn took human wives—and because both Nolyn and his wife, Sephryn, were half-elven, which resulted in no bloodline dilution—that makes me only one thirty-second elven. Arguably, I am more human than elf, but it’s still not technically accurate to call me a woman."

It’s truly a wonder why you aren’t married. Virgil shook his head. You knew what I meant.

"I did. He didn’t. Facts are important. They are the notches we cut in trees as we explore reality—lose them, and we might never find our way."

The old man shook his head again. The point I was making is that I can’t climb as easily as the three of you can.

What do you want from me, Virgil? Farilane slapped her sides. The knights aren’t allowed to abandon me even to assist my tutor, and you can’t climb back up the rope by yourself. I can’t leave you here on the side of this cliff. You’d fall asleep, roll off, and die. Either we climb down now or give up, and I’m not willing to quit—not after so many decades of searching—not when we’re this close. She took a breath, then added, Look, it will be okay. I promise. And when we get back to camp, you can have pie.

Oh really? Pie? Well, that’s a completely different argument, now, isn’t it? Virgil peered below at the violent war being waged between sea and coast. And you’re right. He sighed. I’m not risking much, am I?

Kolby found the nearest thing to a path and led them down in single file over algae-and-lichen-covered rocks to the mouth of the cave. The sea continued to battle the cliff. Waves churned and exploded in geysers, each accompanied by an impressive boom! Blasted by the constant ocean wind and drenched by the salty spray, the four shivered with cold. Farilane pulled tight the front of her cloak and drew up the saturated hood. She attempted to wipe her face with a sleeve, only to discover that it, too, was soaked.

Kolby and Cedric entered the sea-slicked cave first. The younger man paused just inside and dropped his pack next to a small tidal pool. He drew forth one of three lanterns and set to lighting it as evening faded into night.

All the caves on this coast are reputed to be haunted. Did you know that? Virgil asked while struggling to keep up. People in the village said so.

Every town has ghost stories. Farilane adjusted her pack, which had been cutting into her neck. Satisfied that the strap was in a better place, at least for the time being, she glanced back at Virgil. And since when do you believe in ghosts?

Always have.

Farilane smirked, to no effect. The man was going blind and likely couldn’t see her face beneath the hood. Next you’ll be telling me you believe in the gods.

"I do."

Really? she scoffed.

We’ve discussed this on many occasions!

Farilane frowned. I’d hoped you were just going through a phase. I mean, how can you still believe in deities? You’re the most educated man I know.

Virgil shook salt water off his cloak. The more we know, my dear, the more we understand how little we understand.

Sounds like you’re stuttering in whole words. She smirked again, only to remember he still couldn’t see her expression.

No one knows everything, and you could benefit from listening to me once in a while.

Uh-huh. Okay, old wise one, tell me this: Do gods grant wishes to their faithful?

Virgil considered this a moment, then shook his head. Not usually, no.

Then what’s the point of having them?

Wishes or gods?

She smiled. Cute. Gods, of course.

That’s like asking what’s the point of air, trees, or rain. You can’t—

Farilane used her fingers to tick off each of the three in order. To breathe, for lumber and fuel, and to drink.

Okay, bad examples.

Not at all. They illustrate my assertion perfectly. Everything has a purpose, except the gods. So why have them?

"But we don’t have them. They exist by their own right."

Oh, really? Can you name a single person who has seen a god?

There are several stories where—

"Those are myths. The question is, have you, or anyone you’ve personally met, encountered a god?"

No, but—

Neither have I, and I’m nearly two hundred years old and have a social circle that includes people who have lived to be more than a thousand. Tell me, Virgil, have you ever seen a tree being blown around in a rainstorm? Of course you have. Everyone has. Air, trees, rain, all accounted for. But the gods—well, they never seem to show up, do they? Strange, don’t you think? Given how vain they’re reported to be, you’d expect them to pop up all the time to demand praise, propagate fear, or inspire awe. Instead . . . nothing. If you got rid of all the people, the trees, rain, and air will still be here. But the gods? Could it be because we invented the whole lot, and they only exist in stories?

Such an insane notion could only be conceived by you.

Yeah, well, we both know I’m odd. So tell me, Virgil—O Believer in All Things Divine—which member of the grand pantheon managed to provide the crucial bit of evidence that kept you faithful? Are you a follower of Eton, the god of the sky? Eraphus, the god of the sea? He’d be really handy right now, don’t you think? Or is it Arkum, that bright fellow who supposedly rides a chariot overhead each day, then takes a nap before doing the same thing the next morning, and oddly never tires of the routine? Or are you devoted to that stodgy old elven relic, Ferrol, who is still somehow the official imperial god? Oh, wait—no—don’t tell me you’re a convert to the new cult, the one that insists Nyphron was a god. Or is it a demigod? I always forget.

You’re being purposely obtuse just to annoy me.

Of course I am.

Why?

It’s fun. Where is your sense of humor? She threw back her hood, this time to reveal a grin. You know how easily I get bored. You just have the misfortune of being around when it happens.

Virgil shook his head. Kolby is always with you, too. You never speak to him like this.

Farilane glanced at the two men who worked single-mindedly to light the lantern. Oh, he’d just smile and nod. There’s no fun in that. She inched closer to the philosopher and whispered, Besides, if he actually comprehended my supposition, Kolby would kill me.

Virgil raised both eyebrows. The man is sworn to protect you with his life.

His oath to a distant emperor and an ancient creed is hardly a shield against momentary rage coupled with a razor-sharp sword. The man is a walking death trap. A vicious lion held by a string leash.

You don’t honestly believe Kolby would ever hurt you?

Farilane shook her head. Of course not.

But then why did you—

Oh, please! Farilane threw up her hands. "You really don’t understand the meaning of the word fun, do you?" Once more, she grinned, and Virgil sighed as if a noisy expulsion of air was a remarkably convincing argument.

Virgil folded his arms, locking them in a show of frustration. We’re on the outskirts of the empire, beyond the civilized world, literally at land’s end, and venturing into a complicated labyrinth of sea-soaked tunnels—at night! I’m cold, wet, and quite frankly, more than a little frightened. We have no idea what lies ahead. Could be anything. This is incredibly dangerous—no joke. Anyone who went to such great lengths to hide a book down here didn’t want it found. They likely took precautions to protect their treasure. Every step we take is a risk.

Oh . . . Farilane said, surprised. "I apologize and stand corrected. You do know the meaning of fun."

The lantern caught fire, and the glow illuminated a natural tunnel that twisted and turned.

I’ll take that. Farilane stepped forward and reached for the light.

Kolby snatched it away. I’m going first. Then he dutifully added, Your Highness.

Farilane frowned. I could order you to stay here.

Think that would do it, do you?

Farilane looked to Virgil.

Kolby Fiske! the philosopher snapped in a reprimanding tone that was designed to quash the self-confidence of pride-filled students. You’re honor bound to obey her.

Sort of, Kolby replied.

"Come again? What do you mean by sort of?"

Kolby shrugged. "We serve to protect the emperor and his family—even from the emperor and his family. It’s part of our code."

Virgil eyed the knight with the concentration of a cat prior to a pounce. The philosopher knew the Knight’s Creed as well as anyone, and he was a skilled orator who had used rhetoric to win debates in the Imperial Council. Where exactly is that written?

Kolby grinned. In the section that says, ‘Don’t be an idiot.’

Farilane snickered. And when she saw Virgil’s appalled expression, she laughed harder.

The two of you . . . Virgil huffed and shook his head. It’s like being trapped with children, and I’m tired of being the only adult.

I’m sorry, Farilane said, and she took the philosopher’s hands in hers. But you’re just so good at it. You have that whole frowny-face thing going for you, and that marvelous sigh, which really lets me know how disappointed you are with my behavior.

"Yet it does no good, now does it? We were almost crushed to death by that giant near Fairington and nearly drowned in the headwaters of the Urum River. Then there was the . . . Dwarf Incident in Haston five years ago. Don’t think I’ve forgotten. Believe me, I’ve tried. I still have nightmares. And I don’t know how we escaped without starting a war."

Would have been a really short war, Cedric muttered.

They all paused and looked at the knight. Then the joke landed. Not the cleverest of jests but given how little he’d said up to that point, it made even Virgil laugh. "We have two comedians now, I see."

Farilane and Kolby looked at each other, puzzled and a little disappointed.

All right— Virgil relented. "Three. You’re all clowns. Does that make you feel better?"

Farilane nodded. Much. Now, shall we proceed?

I’m still getting pie, aren’t I?

We didn’t bring any, Virgil. The pie is a lie. You know that, right?

The philosopher sighed but nodded. Then by all means, lead us to our deaths.

Farilane turned to Kolby and made a welcoming gesture toward the tunnel as if the cave were her home. After you, light-bearer.

The knight held the lantern as if it were an astrolabe and began the descent. Cedric followed at the rear. The route was uncomfortably tight at first, and the knights struggled to squeeze armor-plated shoulders through the narrow space. Certain noises were painful to Farilane’s ears, and metal scraping stone was near the top of her list. The tunnel widened but never allowed for more than a single file march. They hadn’t gone far when Kolby stopped. That’s not good.

What’s wrong? Farilane asked, unable to see past him. His silhouette, outlined in the glow of the lantern, filled the tunnel, but she heard a constant rushing sound, a roar of water that echoed loud enough to suggest the corridor had opened considerably.

See for yourself. He stepped aside, granting her access while holding the lantern higher. The tunnel stopped at the edge of a cliff—a massive vertical shaft with no visible ceiling or floor. A waterfall spilled from high above, its spray illuminated by the lantern. Passage ends here.

No, it doesn’t. Farilane pointed across the chasm. The tunnel continues on the far side.

You can see a far side?

Yes. About thirty feet, maybe less. What I can’t make out is a way to cross.

Might not be any, Virgil said. There may have once been a bridge, which time and that waterfall destroyed. Or perhaps the means of access was intentionally removed.

Farilane shook her head. I don’t think so. There are no signs of erosion, and while the book has been buried to keep it safe for future generations, the monks would have needed a means to retrieve it. Farilane looked up at the waterfall that issued from darkness and plummeted to more of the same. There was a bottom. She couldn’t see it but heard the splash from far below. Why do you suppose that waterfall is here? she asked.

Because water has to go somewhere? And usually that direction is down.

But why here?

You know, Your Highness, sometimes there isn’t a reason. Virgil leaned on the stone wall of the tunnel and took off one of his sandals. You need to accept that some things just are. The gods are. That waterfall is. The world doesn’t manifest itself merely for your entertainment.

And yet, that hasn’t been my experience.

Virgil rubbed the heel of his bare foot. Growing up in a palace could have something to do with that.

Don’t confuse me with my brother. He’s the one who wears silk pajamas and has a gold crown waiting. I’m . . . well . . . She gestured at her skirt and leather tunic. Except for the dragon pendant in the center of her chest, she looked like a youthful legion scout on his first deployment. Let’s just say the sun doesn’t shine on my ass because I want it to.

She caught Kolby and Cedric smiling and wondered why. They might see her as the quintessential spoiled brat who got whatever she wished, but the pair of grins could have been an expression of solidarity. She hoped for the latter but cautioned herself against seeing only what she wanted. Farilane spent more time in their company than her brother’s, and while a princess, she felt more at home with the knights than the imperial family.

No one spoke after that, which returned her attention to the sound of falling water. "Why is that waterfall here? Farilane looked at each of them. She didn’t expect an answer. It wasn’t a real question, at least not for them. This was merely her process, the way she solved puzzles. She addressed the riddle and waited for it to answer. In this case, the waterfall was being pigheaded, refusing to give any clues. No, I’m certain that waterfall doesn’t just happen to be here."

Kolby reached out his free hand, wetted his fingers, and tasted. Fresh.

Fabulous, Virgil said. Good to know we won’t die of thirst. One less item on the lengthy list of potential causes of our demise.

Hmm, Cedric uttered. Unlike the others, he wasn’t looking into the shaft, but rather at the floor beneath their feet. This caused each of them to do likewise.

Hmm, indeed, Farilane agreed. Kolby, if I promise not to jump into the abyss, can I borrow the lantern?

He held it out to her. The princess backed away from the edge, bent over, and examined the floor.

Writing? Virgil asked.

Looks like it. Farilane set the lantern down and brushed aside dust and dirt until the engraved markings were clearly visible.

Can you read it?

Farilane exhaled a disapproving puff of air. So, you found your sense of humor after all. Was it lost at the bottom of your pack or something? Farilane held up the lantern to get a better view and then read, But by the name of god will you enter here.

How wonderful, Virgil said, delighted. It is so rare for irony to be on my side.

The princess set the lantern on the floor once more. This doesn’t mean gods exist, merely that another person has been equally duped.

And yet what is existence, but that which we believe it to be?

Farilane scrubbed her palms together to clean off the dirt. "I’m astounded that you were appointed to be my teacher."

It may appear that I’ve been a poor tutor. After forty years, I wonder if you’ve learned anything from me, but is that the fault of the instructor or the student?

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by Kolby shouting, Ferrol!

Turning, they saw him with hands cupped on either side of his mouth, yelling into the darkness. He looked surprised when nothing happened.

He’s so cute, the princess said to Virgil.

What? the knight asked. God’s name is Ferrol.

You’re right, Virgil told the princess. He wouldn’t have comprehended the supposition.

I don’t understand, Kolby said.

Exactly, the philosopher replied, and having rubbed life back into his heel, he put his sandal on.

Kolby frowned and hooked a thumb in his sword belt the way he usually did when annoyed. Would you care to explain whatever it is I’m apparently missing?

Certainly, Virgil said. "My role is to educate, after all, and since the princess refuses to allow me to improve her mind, I might as well help you. First, there are hundreds, perhaps thousands, of gods. Everybody has their favorite. Second, Ferrol is the elven god, and