Carfax, unarmed, could only follow blindly in the Ellyl’s wake, trying to protect Fianna with the simple bulk of his presence, turning his mount broadside and flailing in the saddle in a vain effort to fend off their attackers. It was Blaise who defended them, who brought up the rear, Blaise of the Borderguard. And he fought with a deadly, tireless efficiency, whirling time and time again to face the onslaught, his sodden hair lashing his cheeks. There was bitterness there, and fury; oh, yes! He was the appointed Protector of Malthus’ Company, now shattered. If he had to spend his last breath protecting what remained of it, he would do it Again and again his sword rose and fell, rain-washed and running with dark fluids, until the clouds broke and the grey light of dawn showed it ruddy, and the four of them alive.

When had Blaise slain the last of the Were?

Carfax could not say. Only that dawn had found them alone.

He sat quiet in the saddle, dripping, marveling at the steady throb of blood in his veins, at his hands on the reins, only his knuckles scratched, listening to their quarreling voices mingle with the rising birdsong while his exhausted mount hung its head low, too weary to lip at the undergrowth.

“But where should we go?” Fianna’s voice, tired and plaintive. “Blaise?”

“Beshtanag … Jakar …” The Borderguardsman gave a grim smile. “I cannot guess, Lady Archer. You heard him as well as I did, and as poorly. Peldras?”

Troubled, the Ellyl shook his head. “What I can do, I have done. The ways of the Counselor are the ways of Haomane, cousin, and even I cannot guess at them. It is for you to decide.”

“So be it.” Blaise drew a harsh breath, laying his sword across his pommel. Red blood dripped from its tip onto the forest floor. “We have lost Malthus—and the Bearer. The Company is broken, and we must go where we will best serve. Staccian?”

Startled, Carfax lifted his head. “My lord?” The words came unbidden.

“Where should we go?”

He averted his face from the Borderguardsman’s steady gaze, which said all his words did not. Hobard had given his life. A debt was owed. On a nearby tree a lone raven sat, cocking its head. Carfax swallowed hard and looked back at Blaise. “Beshtanag is a trap.”

Was that his voice that had spoken? The words sounded so flat, lacking emotion, nothing to do with his tongue, thick in his mouth. But Blaise Caveros only nodded, as if hearing confirmation of a long-held suspicion.

“Do we have time to warn them?”

“I … don’t know.” Carfax said the words and something in him eased as he met the Borderguardsman’s level gaze. “It may be. I don’t know.”