“Tellington was a visionary,” Hope said. “She knew that things would change, and so she thought around things as well as through them. She mapped out hidden routes that have long vanished into myth, and which only now exist in her books. And there are few enough of them. In here you will learn of underground paths through the Widow’s Peaks, for instance, not fifty miles from here. You can read of how to get from Noreela City to Long Marrakash without passing across the ground in between.”

“Magic!” Josie scoffed.

“Some, yes, and that’s inevitable. But as I said, Tellington was a visionary, and she knew that even magic may not last forever. In here are hidden Ways. Who knows when you might need them?”

“We’ll take that,” Josie said, pointing at the Sleeping God’s wallet.

Hope sat back on her heels and frowned. “Are you sure? Don’t you have nightmares? Doesn’t the skull raven’s heart—”

“We’ll take the wallet,” Josie said. She looked up at the man behind Rafe. “We’re taking the wallet,” she said to him.

“Yes,” the man agreed.

Hope looked around at the man, Rafe, the woman with the longbow. Rafe thought for a moment that she was going to snatch up the wallet and run. Her face creased and the tattoos twisted, doubt holding her tense.

“The horses are in there,” Josie said, standing. “I’ll give you two old saddles, as a gesture of good faith. And now, we’re busy, so please leave.”

She snapped up the wallet, held out her hand for the thousand tellans, pocketed everything and walked away.

The man came around from behind Rafe and clapped his shoulder as he passed by. “Life Moon be with you,” he said quietly. “And take good care of those horses, they’ve served us well.”

Rafe stood and went to Hope. She was putting the jar and book back into her shoulder bag, staring after Josie as if judging whether she would be able to reach her, tackle her, steal back the leather wallet before an arrow or bolt found its mark.

“Hope,” Rafe said.

“Boy.” She did not turn.

“Hope, we should leave. We have horses now, we can put a good distance between us and Pavisse by nightfall.”

The witch looked at Rafe and smiled . . . and her tattoos twisted into a smirk. “True!” she said. “That’s true! Come on, let’s see how friendly our new mounts will be to a witch and a farm boy.”

A FEW MINUTES later they were riding away from the farm, listening to the farm wolf howl defiantly as they left.

“You lost something valuable, didn’t you?” Rafe said. “I’m sorry. It’s all because of me, everything that is happening—”