“Me too,” Abi added. They grinned at each other, and at Jick’s surprise, and went to the wagon holding their packs. Both of them got out practice blades and leather armor. Abi’s rig differed from the Herald’s only in that she had double knives instead of a sword. They both pulled on the leather tunics, arm guards, and shin guards and buckled wide, heavy belts over the tunics. When they were ready, they rejoined the mercenaries on the cleared area of ground they were using to practice on.

Jicks eyed Abi’s knives dubiously. “You know, we have a saying about bringing a knife to a swordfight. . . ”

Abi just shrugged. “Then I’ll get thwacked.”

“Your bruises. I’ll go easy on you. Lads, put the Herald through his paces. Have at, girl.” Jicks took a guard stance and waited for Abi to attack.

Which, of course, Abi was not going to do. Not until she had seen what Jicks could do. She waited, patiently for Jicks to make the first move.

Finally Jicks got tired of waiting, came in with an overhand strike, and they were off.

Jicks was good, very good. But Abi had been trained by Master Leandro and her father. Very soon, Jicks was no longer “going easy on her,” and Herald Stev and Bret and Bart were no longer practicing; they were watching the two of them spar. Abi found herself grinning maniacally, she was having so much fun, even though she was sweating like a galloping horse.

Finally Abi felt something—a twig or a pebble under her foot—skid. It was at just the wrong moment, and she lost her balance, flailed a little, and started to go down. Jicks sensed her chance and came in at her fast. It was all over in a blur.

They both froze. Abi was half-sprawled on the turf. Jicks’ sword was trapped in the quillons of Abi’s right-hand dagger, though she could have freed it with a twist and hit home. The point of Abi’s left-hand dagger was in Jicks’ stomach.

Jicks looked down.

“Huh,” she said.

Bret began clapping, slowly. A moment later, his brother followed. Stev stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning as if he had expected this.

Which . . . if he’s Papa’s agent . . . he was.

Now, Abi was absolutely certain that Stev really was an extraordinary Mindspeaker. And that his Companion really did have two broken forelegs. And that everything he’d said about the reason for being on this expedition was true.

But at that moment she was also as certain that he was one of Mags’ rare agents among the Heralds as she would have been if her father had told her as much. But, of course, Mags would have expected her to figure that out for herself.

Stev looked right at her and winked.