Forced to obedience, Barl followed the mages out of the courtyard. After a few dragging steps the binding’s punishment stopped. The welts faded. Trembling, she climbed into the carriage halted in the narrow laneway beyond the courtyard’s door. Her guards climbed in after her, and sat in grim silence facing her as the carriage’s driver stirred up the horses.

Neither of them said a word, to her or each other, as the carriage carried them through the outskirts of Elvado then into the surrounding countryside. Its windows were shuttered. A little glimfire leavened the gloom, and a whisper of fresh air seeped in through a small painted grille near the low roof. But the close confinement and steady side-to-side swaying churned her empty belly to miserable nausea.

The least they could’ve done was give her a few mouthfuls of breakfast. But no, it seemed that as a Council-bound mage, she was to be treated only a little less harshly than if she’d been a sheep-worrying cur.

At long last the carriage slowed and turned, then continued slowly along what sounded like a gravel driveway. The driver’s deep voice sounded above them in a soothing Whoa and the carriage slowed further until it rolled to a stop.

“Out,” said the mage with grey eyes, his voice clipped with dislike of her. “Quickly. We’ve wasted enough time on you.”

She opened the carriage door and clambered to the gravelled ground, clinging to the handle because there was nobody to let the folding step down and she didn’t want to fall.

“Barl Lindin.”

Turning, she saw a neatly dressed man some twenty years her senior, with close-cropped hair and measuring eyes. Dressed in plain but immaculate black, hands relaxed by his sides, oddly he reminded her of Remmie. They shared an air of calm authority, a teacherly confidence that they were completely in charge of the situation.

“Where’s Councillor Danfey?” her female guard demanded, leaning out of the open carriage door. “This woman isn’t to be left here like a parcel. She’s dangerous.”

The man’s brow creased in the faintest of frowns. “Councillor Danfey is otherwise occupied.”

“We’ve strict instructions. Mage Lindin is to be delivered to the councillor. No-one else.”

“I am Rumm, Lord Danfey’s master servant,” the man said, still frowning. “During her time on the Danfey estate, Mage Lindin will be answerable to me. As for her being a threat, do you tell me Councillor Danfey’s binding has been removed?”

Taken aback, the mage shook her head. “No. Of course not. But—”

“Then I expect the only danger she poses is to the crockery,” said the man, Master Servant Rumm. “You may return to the Council and assure them you have properly discharged your duty.”