A league downstream from the waterfall the globe of white fire rolled ashore and split in half. Clariel staggered shakily out onto a beach of many tiny pebbles that offered uncertain footing, so she had to stoop and put one hand down to regain her balance. Mogget jumped out of her arms and sniffed the air. Whatever he smelt seemed to satisfy him, for he wandered over to the shallows and stared into the water, one paw raised.

Nearby, the fiery hemispheres dulled and shifted, Aziminil and Baazalanan resuming their more familiar shapes. As Clariel stood up, they bowed their heads, the picture of model servants.

Clariel looked at them, up at the moon high above, then back towards the waterfall, a streak of white against the darkness of the Long Cliffs. It was hard to believe she had escaped, that she had two Free Magic servants, not to mention the dubious assistance of Mogget. The way was now clear to go back to Belisaere and do what must be done, and then finally be released to start her proper life in the Forest.

Insects buzzed around her head, midges of some kind, reminding Clariel that her face was bloodied, and her hand. She walked back down to the water’s edge, knelt there, took off her gauntlets and undid the hood of her robe and the straps of her mask. But when she tried to take the mask off, it was stuck fast and wouldn’t move. Clariel shrugged and splashed water over it and through the mouth hole, thinking it must be dried blood that held it to her skin. But even then it still wouldn’t move, and she began to grow afraid. She plunged her head into the river, into the fast-running water. Holding her breath she worked at the mask, till at last it came free with a sickening pang in her forehead.

Trembling, Clariel touched her fingers to her baptismal Charter mark. It glowed softly as she touched it, but the light that reflected on the river was wrong, not the warm golden glow she was used to. This was whiter, brighter, though still tinged with gold.

Clariel hesitated, then tried to reach for the Charter, to conjure a simple light. It was the first spell she’d learned, something she knew well and she could nearly always make it work. But the Charter wasn’t there, or she could no longer feel its presence. Yet she knew it was everywhere, the Charter made up all things, it described the world and everything in it …

Except Free Magic. That was outside the Charter.