“It’s been a hard winter,” he explained, “and this has raised everyone’s spirits.”

They were invited to sleep on pallets in the dining hall before the fire. It might be the last dry, warm night of their journey, and Karigan planned to take full advantage of it. Enver, conversely, chose to wander the woods within the perimeter.

She and Estral shared the dining hall with the cooks. Before they turned in for the night, they sat on the edges of their pallets, whispering to one another.

“What on Earth were you thinking when you sent Rennard after me?” Estral demanded. “Now he won’t leave me alone.”

“Sorry,” Karigan lied. “You’ve told him about Alton, haven’t you?”

“Of course I have.”

“Well, we’ll be gone tomorrow.” Karigan folded aside the top blanket of her bedroll. “You probably won’t see him again.”

“He’s not really a bad sort, just persistent.”

Karigan tried to smother a smile. Estral squinted at her.

“This is really about the Lone Forest, isn’t it,” Estral said. “You’re just mad because we’re going near it.”

“I’m not happy about it, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’d rather not go that way either, truth be told, but if it leads to my father?”

Karigan sobered. “I know.”

She lay down and pulled her blanket to her chin. From the dark around her came the deep breaths and snoring of sleeping cooks. She could only hope to sleep just as well as they, but with thoughts of the next leg of their journey on her mind, she was not so sure that she would.

From the vicinity of Estral’s pallet came the whispered comment: “As for Rennard? I think you’re just jealous.”

Karigan’s snort of laughter was met with several grumbles of “Quiet!” and “Go to sleep!”

• • •

The cooks woke up before dawn, which meant Karigan and Estral did, too. After a hearty breakfast, they prepared to leave, and with Enver joining them, tacked the horses and loaded Bane the pony with their supplies. Just as a night in a warm, dry building had done Karigan and Estral a world of good, so had a night in a sheltered paddock done for the horses. As they left the paddock area, Captain Treman and Lieutenant Rennard came to see them off.

“The lieutenant and his people will guide you back on course,” the captain said, “though I have deep reservations about that course.”

He was not, Karigan thought, the only one. “I understand, sir. We will be vigilant and avoid trouble.”

Treman nodded, then handed her a sheaf of papers. “A report for the king. I realize you are not heading directly back to Sacor City, but I don’t know when we’ll see another messenger. Nothing of great import anyway, but perhaps of some use to the king.”

Karigan took the sheaf and deposited it in her message satchel.

Treman then turned to Estral. “I hope you locate your father, my lady. We’ll keep watch for him, and if we’ve any sign, we’ll send word to Sacor City.”

“Thank you.”

Someone touched Karigan’s sleeve and she turned to find Destarion standing there.

“Rider,” he said, “I have a jar of rub for your wrist.”

Karigan took the proffered jar. “Thank you, Master Destarion.”

“If you think of it,” he said, humbly gazing at his feet, “might you put in a good word about me to the king?”

The awkwardness returned. After a thoughtful moment, she replied. “When I see the king next, I will tell him how helpful you’ve been, and about the good things I’ve heard about your work with the River Unit.”

“Thank you, Rider, thank you. It is more than I deserve.” He backed away, head still bowed.

Awkwardness gave way to regret that so gifted a mender had fallen so far. But he was still alive, which was more than she could say about his fellow conspirators, and, she reminded herself, he was here as a result of his own actions.

Rennard and a half dozen of his scouts led them through the woods. They moved quietly, ever on the alert for enemies. As before, Karigan, Estral, and Enver walked, leading their horses along, until they came to the place where Rennard had found them the day before. While his scouts melted into the woods, he remained for final farewells.

“I will be more courteous to the next messenger who passes through my woods,” he told Karigan with a grin. “Safe journeys to you.” To Enver, he said, “We enjoyed your singing last night. Not what we expected from the Elt, and perhaps you are not the usual Elt.” They shook hands, and finally he turned to Estral. “My lady.” He gave her a courtly bow and kissed her hand. “Lord Alton is a very fortunate man to have your devotion, but should you ever have a change of heart, I hope you will remember Rennard of the River Unit. I am ever at your service.” He bowed once more, and disappeared into the woods.

Well, Karigan thought. That was that. Estral looked a little . . . troubled? Forlorn? Certainly pink in the cheeks. They mounted, taking up their usual order with Enver in the lead and Karigan bringing up the rear. Some time had passed before she dared say anything.

“Are you pleased to be rid of Rennard?” she asked Estral.

“Rid? Once Miles backed off a little, he actually ended up being quite charming. Dashing, really.”

Uh-oh, Karigan thought. Might Alton have some competition, after all? She doubted it. In any case, Estral’s attachments would not likely be foremost in either of their minds the closer they got to the Lone Forest.