"So the Wanderers don't pay any taxes?" Lana asked River.

"Correct." The prince made an almost invisible nod. He placed his finger on the map of Ice that stood on a chair and encircled the large white space north of Bigtown. "Imagine how much money it would cost us to send envoys up north to track down the Wanderers. And since they use neither reds nor paper, it would be a chase that ends with pelts and burnwine. Besides, the Wanderers..."

Sebastian stifled the yawn that had been building up inside of him. He stretched his legs, the tip of his boots touching the table on which his cup of tea was growing cold. Beneath it, on the sun-filled carpet, his sausage pup was stirring in its sleep. Had River been anyone but the future King of Ice, he would have stood up long ago and left the honour of entertaining their guest to Lana and the pup.

"... and that's why we leave the Wanderers be. Like two kingdoms in one."

"But how many of these Wanderers are there?" Sebastian asked, feigning interest.

"Nobody in the last five decades has attempted to count them. Could be anything from a few hundred to a few thousand people," River said.

Lana breathed in. "The population of Main Street in an area that stretches from here to the Port of Diligence. I can't fathom this."

"I can," Sebastian said. "The Forest of—"

A bang came from below the table. The pup had woken up and banged its head.

While Lana cooed, Sebastian laughed out loud. Finally, the Gods were punishing the sausage for peeing at the least convenient moments: on the throne, midway dinner, just as Lady Viviane had dressed him,...

The redemption was short-lived. As if chased by a cat, the pup was racing around the table's legs, tangling its leash. There was no ending to the frightened yipping and yapping as plates of biscuits and fruits clattered on the table. Cups of tea threatened to spill over.

He tugged at the leash. "Stop that!"

The pup bumped into the table's leg, its cry resembling that of a human whimper. Stumbling back up, it hit its head a second time, unleashing howl-like yips.

"Stop!" Sebastian yanked the leash again.

The howling continued.

He sighed. This dog was the bane of his existence.

Grumbling, he got up and crouched by the sausage. But as he reached to unclasp the leash from its collar, the pup bared its teeth and growled.

"You're not a dog. You're a muttonhead," Sebastian grumbled. "Mut-ton-head," he repeated until it cowered to a ball.

Lana clicked her tongue to her teeth. "He's scared of you, Seb. You're torturing the poor thing."

"I'm not. I wanna free it." He turned to River. "You said mountain dogs obey their master. Why isn't mine?"

"Because he doesn't consider you his master," River answered.

"Then, what do I have to do to become its master?"

"A mountain dog is not an 'it'." He dug into the pocket of his trousers, taking out a flat black rock. Out of his boot, he fished out a knife and cut off a piece—it was meat. He handed it to him. "Say his name and give him this."

The pup licked its face as it caught sight of the smokey, rock-hard meat. It placed its paws on his leg and sniffed, trying to reach the snack.

In a panic, Sebastian threw the piece at the animal. The pup's nose bobbed up and down, sniffing. Then, as quickly as Nick eating a biscuit, the meat was gone.

"A perfect example of how it's not done. You gave him a treat without any reason. It's important you have to say his name," River said.

"I haven't named him yet," Sebastian murmured. "I don't know any good names."

"And bad names?" River asked.

Sebastian shrugged. "Muttonhead, maybe?"

For a while, he had considered Bran, but he was far from forgiving father for keeping all those secrets. Besides, not too many people at court would appreciate hearing that name resounding through the halls again.

"Call him Rupert." Lana picked the pup from his leg and scratched it behind its ears."You'll be inseparable like Lucas and his stead. Soon, people will be telling stories about Rupert and Sebastian, the happiest mountain dog who cured the moping Prince." She threw him a smug smile.

"You're not funny," Sebastian said without blinking. "And give me back my pup, or it'll start thinking you're its master."

"His master," she corrected him. "No wonder—you're a terrible one."

"But he is the dog's master, My Lady." River cut off another piece of the rock-like meat. "The pup may like being pampered, you're spoiling him, confusing him. Put him down."

Without as much as a subtle eye-roll, Lana obeyed. As the sausage's paws touched the floor, it shot under the table to River's feet and yipped.

River looked down. "No, you won't get anything from me anymore. The boy is your new friend."

"What did you name it... him?" Sebastian asked.

"I never gave him a name. He comes to me because he knows I'm the one who fed him and kept him warm, but it's the name that forms the bond between the owner and the animal," River explained.

"But what would you call him?"

"It doesn't matter. You must name him."

Sebastian sighed. Prince River hadn't understood his question. He tried again. "If I were Ician, what would be a good name for him?"

Lana opened her mouth, but River raised his hand. "I've been teaching you about Ice all afternoon. Think, and answer your own question."

Sebastian thought for a while. "Bigtown is a big town. The Great Bridge is a great bridge. So a good Ician name would be Dog?" he tried.

"I'm a river?" River asked.

"Only when you have a cold." Sebastian smiled sheepishly. His statement was inappropriate but too good to apologise for.

River looked sternly. "Try again, My Lord."

"Erm... it's a wish," Sebastian said finally. "King Alder and Queen Feline wished you would be calm and peaceful, like a river."

"Can't rivers be wild and free too?"

Lana was biting her lip. Though she remained graceful, he knew a waterfall of words was waiting for them if he allowed her to speak. Part of him was tempted, but he could do without her gloating. His cousin was a worse know-it-all than Lucy and Nick combined.

River gave the sausage pup a soft push. The animal didn't move. "I was born in the thawing moon. On the day that marked the Winter Bear's first defeat."

Sebastian gasped. "Thawing... the ice melted. The Great River became a river again, with flowing water."

"Correct, My Lord. Can you guess the namesakes of my siblings?"

"Prince Storm..." Sebastian tapped his fingers on his lap. "... born during a storm?"

"Correct. Houses collapsed as the Winter Bear roared and the Summer Dragon raged across the sky. Folk said it was a light like they had never seen, and that has never been seen again. Though if you ask me, that very storm still stirs inside my brother." He gave a soft grin. "My sisters, Ivy and Crystal. Any idea where their stories come from?"

Sebastian thought. Not having a clue, he said, "Princess Ivy was born on a bed of ivy? And Aunt Crystal was as beautiful as a crystal?"

"My Lady, can you enlighten your cousin?"

"Gladly." She nodded. "Aunt Ivy was born during an exceptionally long summer. Instead of freezing, the ivy walls of Big Town Castle flourished and climbed all the way to the nursing room of the baby princess. And Mother... for the longest time, Grandpa Alder and Grandma Feline did not have a name for her. She was small and frail—many believed she wouldn't survive. Then an adventurer sought an audience with Grandpa Alder. He had brought a strange blue crystal with him from a recently discovered mine in the Everplains. As the man left court with a sack of money to expand his business, Mother laughed at her wet nurse for the first time."

"Another correct answer." River nodded.

Although Sebastian now understood where Ician names came from, he was still no closer to finding a good name. Though he and the pup had met while he had been sitting on the throne for the first time, he wasn't going to call the sausage 'Throne'.

"This still doesn't help me name him. I wasn't there when he was born. Do you know any stories?" he asked.

"Stories..." River scratched his beard. "Let me think... it was a very ordinary day. Cold, but not exceptionally. The kind where one prays for some dragon's breath to battle the snow, ice, and perpetual darkness. Not much happened," River mused. "A bear strolled through the streets of Bigtown, and—"

"A bear strolled through the streets of..." Sebastian repeated. He hadn't heard that right. That hadn't happened for real.

"Of course, Seb." Lana looked at him blankly. "In Ice, there are more bears than people. A bear in Bigtown is about as common as a bird flying into one of the windows of Sunstone Castle."

"But still significant enough, right?" Sebastian asked.

River lifted his shoulder. "The bear was weakened. Not a cub anymore, but not an adult either. She should have stayed with her mother one last winter, but there she was—all alone. Took but a single arrow to kill her. The fur was damaged, no longer warm enough for human clothes, but the pups sure enjoyed their bear-fur blankets."

Sebastian clapped his hands to his lap. "That's decided then. Everything points to a single name: Bear. The pup even looks like a bear. I'm never gonna find a better name."

"Very well." River handed him the meat he had cut off. "Call him, let him come to you, and feed him. You're his master, but you have to treat him as though you're equals, friends."

Sebastian crouched to the floor. He tapped the wood. "Come here, Bear."

The pup wagged his tail against the table, the cups and plates rattling. Still, he was reluctant to come.

"Equals, Lord Sebastian," River reminded him.

Sebastian cast the leash aside and opened his hand. "This is for you, Bear. Let's be friends."

The sausage hopped up and down, moving inch per inch. Quickly, he snatched the meat from his hand and slurped it up.

"Now scoop him up—not by his scruff—and pet him."

Sebastian grabbed him with both hands and placed him on his lap. While the dog darted around, he ruffled his fur. The paws were heavy on his legs, but he couldn't help laughing as Bear attempted to lick his fingers.

"You like playing, don't you?" Sebastian hid the hand which had touched the meat, taunting the dog.

Bear arfed. Lana sang her aww-ing song.

"Mountain Dogs like running around—they need the exercise." River cut off the remainder of the lump of meat into slices. "Let's take the final part of this lesson outside."

Armed with Bear's meat and a hare bladder ball that River dug up from his other pocket, they went to the royal garden. While the sausage pup happily bounced around in the grass, chasing bugs, Sebastian raced behind him and repeated his name behind every sentence.

"Bear, come here, Bear. Catch the ball, Bear." Sebastian threw the bladder so far, it disappeared in the ivy by the shed.

The dog raced after it until he got distracted by the lark singing its song of joy.

Sebastian went up to him and patted his back. "That's just a bird, Bear. Find the ball, Bear. I'll give you something, Bear."

Cocking his head, Bear flopped one ear.

"He doesn't know what he has to do, My Lord," River said from afar.

"Return the ball, Seb," Lana added. "Let's teach Bear what he has to do."

After he retrieved the bladder in the shade of the shed, he lured Bear away from the lark with a piece of meat and threw the bladder to Lana, who not only caught it but did so single-handedly.

"Don't look so surprised, cousin," she said with a mocking tone. "I had other lessons than those of Lady Victoria."

"Or you spent too much time with Alex."

"Grandpa William pushed a sword into my hands before Alex could even walk," she hissed. "You're forgetting I'm my father's daughter."

"And I'm my father's son."

"There are those who are more like him." She shifted her attention to the dog, leaving him alone in his confusion. "Look at this ball, Bear. Look at it." She juggled the bladder from hand to hand.

Using little to no arm movement, she threw the ball in a wide arc.

As it bounced on the grass, Sebastian began to run. "Come, Bear, let's go and catch the ball. We'll do it together, you and me both, Bear."

At first, the pup circled around River's legs, standing on his hind legs and begging for meat.

Sebastian took a piece out of his pocket. "Here, Bear. Is this what you want, Bear?"

The pup hobbled towards him. When he was nearly there, Sebastian accelerated. After some initial drooping of the ears, Bear followed him to the birch tree, against which the ball had rolled to a stop.

Sebastian picked up the bladder. "Now we go back, Bear."

This time the pup did pursue him from the start. Bear ran alongside him, yipping happily as Sebastian returned the bladder to Lana. The pup devoured his treat as though he hadn't eaten since breakfast.

River told him to repeat the exercise, but to make Bear responsible, so Sebastian sprinted along four more times, pointing out to the pup where the bladder had landed and giving him meat when he brought it back.

It was hard not to smile at the white fur sausage's growing pink tongue and wagging tail as he dove into the ivy and trampled flowers in their beds to fetch the ball.

By the end of the afternoon, the hare's bladder was torn to shreds, and the meat was gone. Bear came at the call of his name, then rolled by Sebastian's feet and yipping until he got a belly rub.

Sebastian's cheek hurt from all the grinning. There was no poppy seed coursing through his veins, no willow bark either. But he was happy. Happier than he had been in moons.

Then Uncle Tom had to come to ruin it all. He approached with long strides. Since River's arrival, he had been wearing his official grey uniform. He was the King, not an old friend or a brother-in-law. River had come to negotiate, and he wouldn't let the Ician Prince leave without a good deal.

"I need to borrow the children," he told River. If it wasn't curious enough that no guard had come to fetch them, the stern tone in his voice meant serious business.

"The lesson of today has ended—they're good students," River said, backing away. "I shall take my leave."

"Please, stay." Uncle Tom smiled. "Enjoy the garden. The dog loves it too. I'll ask a serving girl to fetch you some drinks, perhaps a little snack to pass the time."

"Thank you, Your Majesty. But the dog is no longer under my command. He listens to Lord Sebastian."

Uncle Tom turned to him.

"Bear is coming with me," Sebastian said right away. He didn't even have to think about it.

Uncle Tom furrowed his brow. "Bear?"

"Yes, Bear." Sebastian picked up the pup and held him in his arms.

"Ah," his uncle said. "I don't think that will be wise. Leave him with Prince River."

"But—"

"Leave him here, Seb." Lana was shaking her head, her frown forbidding him from defying Uncle Tom.

"Fine." Sebastian scratched his sausage behind his ears and gave him a kiss on his head. "Be a good boy, Bear. Stay with River until I'm back. Or chase some birds."

Bear yipped.

When Sebastian left, the pup hobbled with him to the door. When he shut the glass door, Bear crawled down, one ear perked and the other flat. He howled.

Sebastian waved, his heart aching.

Yet as he entered Uncle Tom's office, he understood why Bear couldn't come. Nick was sitting close to Aunt Crystal, the skin around his closed eyes crustier than before. Having his pup here would open too many wounds, in every sense of the word.

While Uncle Tom beat Lana in taking the spot next to Nick, Sebastian remained standing, his arms crossed against his chest. "Why are we here?"

"Yeah, what is the meaning of this sudden family meeting?" The annoyance was strong in Lana's voice. " We never do this. What must Uncle River think of us?"

"That we are a family that keeps certain matters private, as do the Icians," Uncle Tom said. "If you must know, it was your mother who suggested bringing all three of you here. And I agreed. Sit down, both of you."

Something was wrong with Nick. He would be blind forever or forced to leave court. His mind spinning with more ideas, he strolled towards the window and sat down on the sill. He was still faster than Lana, who grabbed a chair from Uncle Tom's desk and sat next to Aunt Crystal.

"I received a letter from Lord Simon," Uncle Tom began.

Aunt Crystal brought her hand to her mouth and sobbed. It was a sob that made Lana look at Nick, mumbling. "No-no-no."

"What did he write?" Sebastian asked.

"No good news, Seb," Uncle Tom continued. "The Acedia's Revenge—the ship that would take Alex to the wedding of Boyar Lazlo's daughter—it disappeared. The ship never arrived at its destination, nor did it return to the port. No other neighbouring harbour has spotted the ship or any of the crew."

"Does this mean she's..." Sebastian didn't want to finish the sentence.

"Dead?" Uncle Tom did it for him. "One never knows at sea, but every passing day without news diminishes the chance of survival."

"But she could be alive?" Sebastian asked.

"Seb, it's unlikely."

"But not impossible." He couldn't imagine her dead. Not her too. Not...

"Billy," Nick squeaked. He was trembling. "You killed them, Seb." He resorted to shouting. "Alex and Billy are dead because of you!"

Uncle Tom's office was too small for the God of Wrath seizing power.