The sentry hauled a grumbling Xac Wen off to bathe and change, and by the time the boy returned, looking much better, the four friends had finished eating and moved off to a more isolated place. As promised, they gave him food and drink and waited to hear what he had to say.

What he said first, to Prue Liss, was, “What happened to your eyes?”

“Nothing. It’s a disguise.” She blinked as if to demonstrate. “Tell us about Phryne.”

The boy shrugged. “I got her out, just like Tasha told me to,” he said, wolfing down large bites of food between words. But when Tasha cleared his throat and caught his eye, he put his plate aside. “Like I said, I freed her. But then things got strange. First, someone sent her a note saying help was coming. Wasn’t me. Wasn’t you, was it? No? I didn’t think so. Anyway, we never did find out who it was, but Phryne thought it might be the Queen. Since you say you didn’t send it, I’d guess she was right. She thought the Queen might be planning to let her escape and then kill her afterward. But that didn’t happen. Instead, Phryne said she had to go to her grandmother’s house to look around. So we did, even though I thought it was dangerous. There was no reasoning with her. We searched the house, looking for something. I don’t know what. Phryne wouldn’t say what it was. Then this ghost thing appeared. It looked like her grandmother—like Mistral—but it wasn’t real. It talked to Phryne and made this message out of fire that burned in the air and told Phryne to go to the Ashenell. Then some of the Queen’s pet guards came looking, and we got out of the house just in time. Phryne was furious. I think she would have done something about them if she could have managed it, but instead she made me go to the Ashenell with her. Well, she didn’t make me go exactly. It was more like I made her take me. I couldn’t leave her alone. So I went with her and she walked under the Belloruusian Arch and just disappeared!”

He stared at them breathlessly, dark hair tousled and damp, eyes wild and excited. “So what do we do now?”

“You know, if this were anybody else telling this story, I might think they were making it up,” Tasha offered.

“I still think he’s making it up,” Tenerife interjected, his lean face reflecting more than a little doubt. “You are, aren’t you, you little water mite?”