“Besides,” said Thisbe, who was still justifying her decision, “the people who attacked us are Artiméans. They’re our own people.” She blew out a breath and looked down at the jungle, wondering if any of her allies were hiding there. “This is a very confusing situation,” she added. “All of these people should be our friends. But now they’re enemies. I don’t understand what happened.”

“War is strange,” Quince said in a somber voice. “We’ve seen enough of it, haven’t we, Gorgrun? Maiven? I remember that well enough.”

“Indeed,” Maiven murmured. Quince curved inland and Gorgrun followed. Soon they were flying above one of the four quadrants of Quill, casting vast shadows over the land and striking fear in the people who were out and about, apparently unaware of the strife in nearby Artimé.

Maiven approached Thisbe. “What are you thinking about?” she asked her quietly. “Is there any way I can help?”

Maiven’s humble offer reminded Thisbe that the woman standing beside her was a great warrior. Thisbe had become so used to dealing with problems on her own that she’d nearly forgotten she had wisdom at her fingertips. She swiped her hands down her arms to resettle her scales as images swept through the back of her mind of the rogue usurpers and the battles in Grimere. “Thank you, Grandmother,” Thisbe said. “I’ll take any advice you wish to offer.”

Maiven touched Thisbe’s hand. “I think you’re smart to circle the island. Is it strange that life seems casual below us here compared to your magical mansion area?”

“I think it points to the fact that Quill isn’t involved in this war,” Thisbe said. “They don’t seem to know it’s happening. That’s not totally surprising—the two entities work independently.”

“I see,” said Maiven. “And what are we looking for?”

“Large statues. You know what Simber looks like. Florence is a very tall, muscular, ebony-colored stone warrior woman with a quiver and arrows on her back. You can’t miss her.”

“And you don’t think they’re part of the group in the mansion?”

“No,” said Thisbe decisively. “Unless they’re somehow being held against their will. I can’t imagine how, though.”

Both of them studied the ground below, looking for any sign of Simber or Florence or the others. Talking to Maiven had calmed Thisbe enough to think things through, but the fear for Fifer and Aaron remained. She fingered a small folded drawing in her pocket, which Florence had scribbled for her when she was training. Then she pulled it out and opened it. “I think we need to risk sending a seek spell to Florence,” she said. “At least that’ll tell us where she is. I don’t want to waste time searching the whole island if she’s in the mansion.”

“Are you sure? You said earlier that it might also worry her. Or reveal to others that you’re looking for her, thus putting her in danger.”

“It could do both,” Thisbe admitted. “But the people who fired on us already know we’re here. As for worrying her—well, that’s the least of our problems right now. Besides, she knows we’re coming, so she should be expecting us.”