“When I broke the spell that held you to Hurog,” I said, with a flash of visceral memory of my knife sinking into Oreg’s side, “I felt the weave of the magic binding. I might be able to unbind it.”

“That might not be what you ought to do,” said Oreg after a moment. “It’s not just magic that is bound to the stone, but the spirits of three dragons who are not very happy with the human race right now. Farson tried to use the Bane the way other wizards used a rowan staff—but the only magic he could work with the Bane was destructive, and that was when the spell was new.”

“What do you suggest?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I’ve never gotten as close to the Bane as you have. You’ll have to play it as it comes. Just be careful.”

We ate the stew Axiel had created with dried meat and bits of this and that. Flavored by hunger and cold, it tasted better than it was. Tisala and Garranon between them had decided that Jakoven was headed for the less well-known pass.

“I wouldn’t have thought that a Tallven would even have heard of the pass, but Garranon tells me that Jakoven knows geography,” said Tisala before she blew on the stew steaming on the small chunk of dry bread.

Garranon nodded. “He’s smarter than he lets on. There’ll still be merchants traveling the greater pass to Estian. He won’t want to meet anyone. The only people who use the other pass are hunters and bandits. With the Bane and his wizards he has little to fear from bandits, and the hunters on this pass are a wary bunch. They’d never approach a party of strangers.”

“I know a path that bypasses most of the swamp that Jakoven seems to be traveling through,” said Tisala. “If he’s where Ward says he is now, we’ll beat him to the pass and wait there.”

Tosten had brought his harp, and he played it by the dying fire. We joined in the songs we knew, and he surprised Axiel with a mournful tune sung in the dwarven tongue. Axiel sang the chorus with him and added a verse or two.

“I didn’t know you understood Dwarven, Tosten,” Axiel said when they’d finished.

Tosten shook his head. “I don’t. But your cousin several times removed taught me that one when your folks came to help rebuild the keep. Here’s something a little less sad.” His fingers plucked a rapid, catchy rift and he sang another of his “Shavig Giant” songs—a little more polished than the last time I’d heard it.

When he was finished, I banked the fire while Oreg checked on the horses. Tisala ducked into the smaller tent while Axiel and Garranon disappeared into the larger one.