Now it was her turn to forget herself and laugh aloud.  “What makes you think that was the first time?”  Her smile broadened, thinking of what she had in fact learned from surreptitiously listening to her father’s conversations. 

     He chuckled again.  “You really are an advanced fosterling, aren’t you?”

     “Well, as you said, natural children have to make their own way in the world.”  She let her face twist in a wry grimace.  “It’s difficult to teach yourself warrior techniques, though.” 

     “I’ll bet.”  His grin looked as if he were picturing how that approach might turn out.  Then he sobered.  “Of course the Marlone threat means we can’t spare time for more training.  I’m sorry about that.  But I’ll be sure to tell Lord Garland what an apt pupil you are.” 

     She shrugged, not quite able to speak, touched by his concern for ‘Elmar.’  That was what she’d always admired about Murrow, and probably what brought her to love him.  Most warriors, particularly among the nobility and most especially Brusterians, worried foremost about their own ambition.  Murrow could be as coldly fierce as a warrior’s life demanded, but he also helped others, at no benefit to himself, more than anyone she’d ever seen. 

     Going back is usually faster than moving forward along an unknown path, and it wasn’t long before they reached the end of the passage.  They shinnied out into the adjoining passage.  Elsbeth felt like it’d been months rather than hours since she’d stood there. 

     Then she thought of something.  “How did you find the hidden path if you didn’t know about the markers?” 

     “Is this passage marked?”  Murrow turned to the wall, gaze scanning. 

     “That’s how I found it.  How did you?” she repeated.   

“Hush, and I’ll show you.”

She quieted, but he seemingly did nothing, just stood there, unmoving. 

But perhaps that was what he was doing.  Standing, silently, listening.  Elsbeth strained her ears.  Was this really how he’d found the path? 

The wind kicked up, blowing briskly through the passage.  After long moments, she heard it:  a low, soft almost-whistle, more a scrape on her senses than a noise. 

     “The wind was blowing when I was here before,” Murrow said.  “When the passage ended, I decided to rest before heading back.  As I sat here, I eventually realized that I was hearing something strange in the wind.”

     She felt her mouth fall open and snapped it shut.  All this time she’d been assuming that the markers were infallible, hiding her forebears’ secret paths in a way undetectable to anyone who did not know the code.  Had Murrow stumbled upon a way to outwit her ancestors?  What if he shared that knowledge?  She had never been more aware of his foreignness.  His allegiance was not to Elbany.  Would he tell his father what he’d learned?

Her alarm must have shown.  “Don’t worry, Elmar,” Murrow said.  “I doubt a Valenian would ever notice.  I grew up in the mountains, and I had to sit here quite a while before I heard it, and then it was just a slight twinge, something not quite right in the sound of the wind.  I’m not even certain another Brusterian would catch it.”