While she rested, she wrestled with Estral’s words of the other night, the list of all the situations she’d found herself in. Why did she always step in to help? Why did it have to be her? Why didn’t she wait for someone else to do what was necessary?

In her case, she thought, there usually wasn’t anyone else around, and if she didn’t take action, what might be lost? For instance, Fergal Duff might have drowned in the Grandgent. Yes, there had been others on the ferry with her when he went over, but none of them made a move to rescue him until after she dove into the water. What might have become of Estora in the Teligmar Hills had she not intervened? Grandmother would have possessed Sacoridia’s future queen, and claimed a major victory.

There were consequences to not helping. Even if there were an army of potential rescuers, what if none of them stepped in? If not her, then who?

Estral entered the tent and sat beside her. “I guess my part will be staying here,” she said.

“What? You aren’t going with us?”

“Enver says someone needs to stay here. I volunteered.”

Karigan was surprised. “I thought you wanted to—”

“Help rescue my father? Of course, but I also realize I am not you. I am not even my father. I haven’t the skills or the resilience. Often I wonder what kind of Golden Guardian I’m going to be if I can’t do these things.” She laughed derisively. “My thing is teaching music to children, not this—this adventuring. Besides, Enver thinks that the fewer who go into the Lone Forest, the better. You will have a better chance of getting my father and the king out without me in the way.”

“What about your voice? You said the thief was there.”

“It is more important to get the king and my father out. I can live without my voice, I know that now, but I am not sure how I could stand life without my father.”

Estral’s voice had gotten scratchier. There was no telling how long Idris’ gift would last. For Estral, staying behind would be more courageous than going.

“We’ll bring Lord Fiori back,” Karigan said.

“Just keep yourself in one piece, and if you see that nasty Nyssa?” Estral made a cutting motion across her throat.

Karigan hoped not to see Nyssa at all, and if she did, she very much doubted she’d be in any condition to engage in a fight. Her part would be in stealth.

As daylight waned, she dressed. The weight of her greatcoat proved painful against her back, so she carried it as a bundle under her arm. Enver’s shirt had a quality to it that kept her warm, despite its thin fabric. She made her way out of the tent with Estral’s assistance. Enver and Nari stood by with Condor, Mist, and Coda. Karigan looked Condor over and was pleased to see her saber strapped to the saddle. With her back so damaged, she could not use it, but she figured the king or Lord Fiori could. She did not even arm herself with the bonewood. She just could not use her wounded back muscles to wield it. The only weapon she took was her longknife.

“You will ride Mist,” Enver said.

“But Condor—” Before she could finish, she saw why. Mist knelt down on the ground, waiting for her to mount. It would be easier than trying to climb up into Condor’s saddle.

“You were not aware at the time to know how smooth Mist’s gaits were when last you rode her.”

She kissed Condor’s nose and, feeling guilty, sat upon Mist’s saddle. The mare rose with nary a jolt to her back. Nari mounted Coda, and Enver, Condor. Midnight leaped up behind him. It was strange seeing someone else, plus a black cat, riding her horse.

“Hurry back,” Estral said, by way of farewell.

Karigan glanced over her shoulder as they rode away, Estral a solitary, unmoving figure. “I’ll bring him back,” she murmured.

Enver and Nari watched for trouble with their sharp vision as dusk settled in. The Lone Forest was still quite a distance away. Smooth as Mist’s gaits were, Karigan’s back and stab wound felt the ride.

• • •

It was full dark, and they were much closer to the forest when they approached what appeared to be a wide, deep crevice through the landscape. Instead of altering their course to avoid it, Enver guided Condor over its edge.

“No—” Karigan began, but then Enver and Condor did not fall, but simply vanished from existence.

“It is illusion,” Nari said, “like the one around our other campsite.” Then she and Coda vanished as they stepped into the “crevice.”

Mist followed, and though Karigan braced herself, there wasn’t even a slight sensation of falling, only the tingle of wards. It was clever, she thought, to create an illusion that appeared more as an obstacle to be avoided than, say, a thicket of trees that would look like an obvious hiding place.

“Nari made this illusion yesterday,” Enver explained. “A place to leave the horses and to which we can retreat and hide. But come now. We will wait until the hour of night’s end, and you must rest until then.”

“Galadheon,” Enver said.

Karigan blinked her eyes open. Hadn’t she just lain down?

“It is nearing the time,” he said. “You should take some food and water.”

She grimaced as she sat up, pain rippling through her back. Even with the illusion, they had not dared light a fire, so she forced down some hardtack and the Dragon Dropping Enver gave her. Then he handed her his flask of cordial.

“Drink all that is left,” he instructed her.