“Oh don’t be silly,” Giselle replied, blushing, and glad it was too dark for Rosa to see it. “He’s just being extremely polite.”

“Hmm. I don’t think so,” Rosa opined. “But suit yourself. I’m going to bed!”

13

IT occurred to Giselle that a seasoned walker could probably go faster than the show train did. They were forced to keep their speed to what the cattle would do, and the cattle were not at all eager to move past an amble. That was why it was taking them so long to travel the winding roads of the Schwarzwald. On the other hand, the leisurely pace gave them all a bit of a rest between the nonstop, even frenetic pace of show days.

And when they found an absolutely perfect meadow to camp in overnight at the place where the road to Menzenschwand branched off from the one they were on, they even stopped early. The meadow was bordered on one side by another sparkling stream, which meant no one would have to carry water, and there was plenty of grass. The farmer who owned it was happy to share it with them, since he was going to get free entertainment as they practiced, and his children were nearly over the moon on seeing the Pawnee set up their teepees. Once again, Giselle got her practice in early and settled down after an equally early supper thinking she was going to get a good read in on the Bruderschaft book.

Which was, of course, when Rosa tapped on the door.

The sun was just going down, and Giselle repressed a sigh of exasperation. “What is it?” she asked, opening the door. “I hope there isn’t something else you want me to meet.”

“No . . . no, it’s that . . . there’s something not right about this place.” Rosa cast a look over her shoulder. “Not like the ruined convent. And it’s not here, specifically. But off that way.” She waved vaguely in the direction of the north. “Somewhere between here and Pieter’s bridge. Earth Elementals don’t move very fast. So . . . I was wondering . . .”

Giselle rolled her eyes, but only a little. “All right, give me a moment. I’ll get a sylph, they’re the most articulate.”

She waved Rosa inside and shut the door, then opened a bottle of lavender water and spun up a ball of magic. She’d learned since Todtnau that sylphs liked perfumes and incense almost as much as magic.

It seemed as ridiculously easy now to call a sylph as it had been when she was very little, and they just came. It was a night-sylph, this one with velvety batwings, who wafted in through the window over the bed, snatched the floating ball of magic and ate it, then hovered over the vial of lavender with a blissful expression.

“What do you need, Air Master?” she asked.