But even as he hunkered down to shield himself against the weather, he knew that she wouldn’t. HE WOKE TO FIND LARKIN QUILLstanding over him. Even from the back—for he was turned away—the cloaked form of the ex-Tracker was instantly recognizable. He was facing toward Simralin, who was busy strapping a still-unconscious Angel to a wooden frame that cradled her body on a broad piece of tightly stretched canvas. Kirisin raised himself to a sitting position, noting as he did so that the day was bright and sunny and all but devoid of evidence of the previous night’s storm. Save for a few puddles and damp spots on the otherwise dry ground, there was nothing to indicate the deluge had ever happened.

“Wake up, wake up, Kirisin Belloruus,” Larkin Quill intoned. He turned his head slightly. “Awake, maybe you can be of some use.”

Kirisin rubbed his eyes and stretched. “Sim was supposed to wake me. She let me sleep.”

“Yes, it is all her fault, no question. She’s like that, Simralin is, always thinking only of herself. So selfish.” He was grinning as he gestured toward the river, swift flowing and choppy in the wake of the downpour. “But now that you’ve made it back from the land of dreams all on your own, I need to be going my way, as well. Would you help me carry our wounded Angel down to the boat so I can ferry her back across?”

Kirisin rose, and together they bore Angel Perez along the banks of Redonnelin Deep to where the ex-Tracker’s boat was beached and tied off. As before, Larkin Quill was sure-footed and steady, seemingly able to see as well as the boy. Simralin came, too, lending an extra hand while they loaded Angel aboard and settled her on a long bench at the stern where the stretcher could be secured.

“I have a ramp at my dock that will allow me to drag off the stretcher when we get to where we’re going. I’ve had to do this before when I wasn’t ready for it, so this time I came prepared.”

“Can you help her?” Kirisin asked.

The older man grinned. “Oh, I think so. She’s banged up pretty good, but she’s already healing at the breaks and cracks. Some of that Knight of the Word magic, I imagine. I’ll be able to help her mend faster still with a little magic of my own, the kind that relies on potions and poultices and sleep. A week or so, she’ll be back to fighting form.”

“That’s awfully fast,” Kirisin said doubtfully.

Larkin said nothing.

“She won’t be easy to keep down even that long,” Simralin declared. “She’ll want to be up and on her way.”

Larkin Quill shrugged. “I wouldn’t worry about that. I can manage her. You have the harder task, I’d guess.”