‘Sorry,’ mumbled Clariel. She gazed out at the vast green mass of the forest. The Sindlewood was the closest major forest to Belisaere and though she had never been there, she had read about it, and heard about it from the Borderers who had been stationed there before their time in the Great Forest.

‘The way station shouldn’t be too far ahead,’ said Bel about five minutes later. He sounded slightly anxious, and was moving his head from side to side, peering at the ground below. ‘Can you see anything?’

‘What am I looking for?’ asked Clariel.

‘A low hill, like where the sheep were, but flatter on top and longer,’ said Bel. ‘There’s a tower, not very tall. It should have a big flag on top so I can see where the wind’s blowing from down there … surely I couldn’t have missed it …’

Clariel looked away from the Sindlewood off in the distance and focused on the ground closer ahead and to the sides. It was still settled farmland beneath them, the patchwork of fields continuing up and down and over the slight rolling hills, dotted occasionally by copse or small wood, house or steading, with bare earth roads between. The only major paved road in the area was further north, joining Belisaere to Sindle and parts east. The road that ultimately led to Estwael.

‘We could follow the road,’ Clariel said suddenly.

‘What?’

‘We could fly along the main west road,’ said Clariel. ‘To Estwael. You wouldn’t get lost. We wouldn’t have to follow the Yanyl.’

‘We’re not going to Estwael, and roads are harder to follow than big rivers unless you go low, which is dangerous,’ said Bel wearily. ‘We really need to find that way station. I’m getting tired and the Paperwing will get very difficult if we’re not down before dark.’

‘Right,’ said Clariel. ‘I’m looking.’

They flew in silence again, but it was less companionable than before. Clariel’s eyes kept following the road that headed to the west, to Estwael and home. Bel looked down, anxiously searching for the way station.

‘I’m just going back the way I flew in last year,’ said Bel a little later. ‘But everything looks the same. There’s no decent landmarks. If we don’t find the way station soon we’ll just have to set down wherever we can. We do have some food but it’s nothing fancy …’

‘I don’t need fancy food,’ said Clariel. ‘Could you … could you land near one of these small woods? I would like to be among trees again. The night will be warm, we won’t need to be under a roof.’

‘I suppose so,’ said Bel. ‘But it’s always easier to take off down a hill. And the way station has actual beds.’

‘A scrape in the ground filled with fern and grass is quite comfortable,’ said Clariel. ‘And we have our cloaks.’