Something . . . several somethings at least . . . answered wordlessly. She continued to call.

When she opened her eyes, she felt a little faint with relief to see a good dozen sober-faced night-sylphs, at least as many pixies, and several dozen of the tinier Air Elementals, all of them—well, all the ones near enough for her to see—looking determined. The night-sylphs, all of them, were armed with what looked like swords of glass. The pixies and the tiny ones were armed too, if not with knives and miniature swords, then with their own long claws. The pixies were creatures the size of dolls, but with strange attenuated bodies and long limbs, mostly clothed in colorful rags, and with dragonfly wings. Their joints were knobby, and their faces more than a little animalistic. The smaller ones—Mother had never called them anything but alfar—were also winged, but looked half-human and half-insect, with touches of bat and bird.

She glanced at Rosamund, to see if she could see the little army. Evidently she could, for she nodded with satisfaction and hoisted one of her crossbows. “Now we need to run,” the Earth Master said, “or at least as close as we can without breaking our necks—I don’t—”

But as if to answer her, the wisps zoomed in front of them and began glowing with all their might, until their combined light at least equaled that of a very good lamp. That gave the three of them enough light to see by that they could scramble, if not precisely run, through the camp and into the ruins. Thank the good God that we always lay out an orderly camp, Giselle thought, as she jumped over wagon tongues and skirted the edges of glowing fire pits. Then they reached the edge of the ruins and the going got slower, as they had to avoid fallen stones or risk breaking a leg. The wisps seemed to know which way Cody had gone, from the direct path they were taking. Bless you little ones! she thought at them, and in answer they glowed just a little brighter.

They fled through the ruins and then into the woods beyond them. The vast number of fallen branches and yet more stones made the going slower—and here, as opposed to the opposite side of the ruins where they had camped, there was a lot of undergrowth that even the wisps were having a hard time pushing through. They all slowed to a crawl. And now . . . now Giselle thought she could hear . . . music? Dancing music?

Rosamund cursed, and hung her crossbows on her belt as she shoved her way past some bushes. “Give me the gun!” she shouted to Fox, who tossed it smoothly to her. She caught it and sped up, the wisps increasing their speed to keep ahead of her.

What does she know?

And then, they burst into a clearing.

No.

A graveyard.