‘It’s just stiff,’ he said. ‘I was supposed to stay in bed for another week. But I can do that once we get to Hillfair. I’m sure I’ll be fine to fly in the morning.’

He stepped out of the Paperwing and started to turn and bend down to get something from inside the hollow nose, but stopped suddenly, his face showing intense pain.

‘Ah, if you wouldn’t mind … could you fetch my sword? And the food and water by your seat? I’m just going to sit down against that tree …’

He walked very slowly towards one of the lone, outlying trees of the wood – a younger oak, its trunk merely spotted with lichen. Clariel picked up his sword, an ordinary-looking weapon in a plain scabbard on a simple leather belt, albeit with a gold-chased buckle. She strapped it on herself, then bent down again to take the water bottle and the muslin-wrapped bread.

There was something else there too, wedged almost in the nose of the Paperwing. A silver bottle wreathed in gold wires. Clariel reached down to pick it up but as her fingers closed there was a flare of Charter Magic. Pain shot through the bones of her hand to her elbow, and she flinched back.

With the pain, she heard a distant, despairing voice.

The voice of the Free Magic creature.

Aziminil.

‘Help me! Help me …’

Clariel’s hand stayed frozen near the bottle. She stayed completely still for a few seconds, the sound of Aziminil’s voice receding till she heard it no more. Once again she felt the desire to help the creature, to free it from its prison, a desire made stronger by her own experiences as a prisoner.

But there was a stronger emotion. She remembered the thrill of incipient power, when she had almost dominated Aziminil, when her will had closed like a fist upon the creature’s mind and she had been on the brink of seizing it, of using its sorcerous gifts. If she released it from the bottle, Clariel could force it to obey, and then it could help her. Who knew what she might be able to do with the creature’s powers at her disposal?

But the thing had tried to kill Bel before. Everyone said Free Magic creatures were evil. Yet against that, Kargrin himself said they were not evil as such, and surely that meant it was all about what you did with them –

Clariel withdrew her hand and shook her head violently, as if she could clear it of unsuitable thoughts. Grabbing the water and the bread, she went after the staggering Bel, catching up just in time to help manage his controlled collapse, getting his back against the trunk and slowly bending his knees till he was sitting down.

‘I’ll be fine after a rest,’ he whispered. ‘I did say that wind-working took it out of me, didn’t I?’