“Sleep well?” she asked without irony. She still had her makeshift bandage wrapped about her forehead and her all-weather cloak wrapped about her shoulders. She looked like a wraith. She caught him staring at her and said, “What’s wrong?”

“Well, you are, for starters. You look like you’ve been blood-drained. Are you all right?”

“Right as can be under the circumstances. Better get yourself up. We leave as soon as I’m finished.”

He pushed himself up on one elbow, and the residual effects of yesterday’s struggle recalled themselves painfully. “Leave for where?”

She nodded toward the passageway. “Back outside and down the mountain. You did the best you could with Angel, but she’s in need of someone better trained in the art of healing.”

Kirisin glanced over to where the Knight of the Word was still sleeping. Except for her face and hands, she was buried in the folds of the coverings in which they had wrapped her the night before, and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. She was wearing fresh clothing; his sister must have dressed her while he slept. He studied her a moment, then said to Simralin, “Is she still alive?”

“She was half an hour ago. Why don’t you have a look?”

Kirisin pulled himself to his feet, fighting off the stiffness and the pain that ratcheted through his muscles and joints and made him feel as if he had been hammered with rocks. Dropping his cloak, he stumbled over to Angel and knelt down. He could just discern the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her face was purpled with bruises, and the knuckles of her hands were scraped raw. That was just the surface damage. The damage beneath the coverings was far worse.

“How do we get her back down the mountain?” he said.

“We make a sling and carry her. We can’t afford to try to slide her down. The terrain is too rough for that. She’s damaged internally—ribs broken, maybe more. We can’t risk knocking her around by dragging her along the ground. We have to keep her elevated and still. We’ll use her staff as a support for the sling. Why don’t you see if you can pry it loose from her fingers so I can get to work?”

Kirisin glanced down. Angel gripped the black staff tightly with both hands and didn’t look ready to let go. Nevertheless, he reached down carefully and tried to slide the staff free. Instantly the Knight’s eyes snapped open. “Kirisin,” she whispered in a voice dark with warning.

“Don’t.”

He pulled back quickly. “Sorry. But we need your staff to make a sling to carry you back down the mountain so that we can . . . we can find help for you . . .”