It would, she considered sourly, set a poor precedent. “I’ve a better idea,” she decided. “Because, like I say, the Dark One’s servants will be all over this place soon enough.” She was pitching her voice loud enough for Visler to hear. “And they know just who runs it. Or the agents of the Light will come, ’cos I’m sure as anything telling them over at Armesion what’s been going on here.” And she took up one of the tables, and without being asked Enth had the other end, and then had turned it over onto the cellar hatch between them. She had wondered if the little weasel had another way out, but from his horrified shout at the sound she guessed he did not. “So we’ll leave him to his vintning for now, let him take stock of the contents of his cellar. Until they come for him. Until whoever comes for him. Sweet dreams, Visler.”

They left, then, and Cyrene set off into the woods, close enough to watch the roads, but far enough that they could hide themselves among the trees. Enth kept his own counsel, mostly, although he had one question that she could not answer, but filed away for later use. When he intruded into the edge of her vision unexpectedly he still made her skin crawl, but it was old habit. When she caught the reins of her feelings, she could look on his silent, crouching form and see something more of a blank slate, perhaps even someone with virtues as a traveling companion. He was quiet, after all, and he was obedient, and he was strong. She had known dogs who had no more to recommend them. And that meant he was already a step up from Harathes.

She laughed at that, unable to stop herself, sensing those baffled eyes on her, like dark reflecting pools.

Dion found them soon after, following after Penthos as though the magician were a tracking hound, able to sniff out the reek of his own magics no matter what the distance. They came down the forest path, and Cyrene saw that there were four of them, and two spare horses, and felt a quiet joy.

“What kept you?” she called out, emerging from the trees. She was grinning, but Dion’s expression took some of the edge off that. “What happened?” She had to glance once more at Lief, because the priestess’s looks suggested someone had died.

“We’re fine,” Harathes told her, though she hadn’t been asking him. “We thought we were in trouble, back at Armesion, but they saw the necessity of our quest, and let us go.”

“That right?” Cyrene’s gaze flicked from face to face, seeing that, whatever the matter was, it was only Dion who was overly weighed by it.

“Do you still have the creature?” Harathes demanded of her.