“Don’t shut him in,” she said. “They tried to lock him in to stop me. He almost hurt himself trying to get out. That’s when—” That’s when she’d done to one of her own kind what she’d done to no one except Black Coats: gathered a man who was healthy and whole, ripped his spirit out of his body and left it there for another of Death’s Servants to take up the road to the Shadowed Veil. She remembered loud voices, angry voices, hands grabbing at her. Dead flesh. She’d done that to a Black Coat, too—unfurled enough of her power to kill a piece of a man without taking his spirit, without killing all of him. She should have killed the Witch’s Hammer that day. That moment of mercy, that moment of pity that she’d felt when she’d seen him on the wharf at Rivercross had cost so many so much. It hadn’t been pity that had stopped her at the Clan house where they’d tried to keep her from pursuing the Lightbringer. Perhaps it had been nothing more than a hesitation to harm her own kind despite their clear intention to harm her. There was no pity in her anymore, no hesitation. The dreams that haunted the little sleep she’d gotten had burned those feelings out of her.

“Here, Morag.” The stable master was back, holding a bowl with a thick cloth under it. “Here’s soup, and some bread and cheese there. Eat now, and we’ll fix you a place to sleep.”

“Can’t stay.” Her hands shook with the effort to hold the bowl. He took it from her, knelt down, and held it for her. “Can’t. He’s too far ahead of me.”

“He won’t be far ahead of you for long. Eat up now. It won’t do you any good inside the bowl.”

She picked up the spoon and began to eat. The first taste made her want to gulp it down. When had she last eaten? She couldn’t remember. The days had blurred. So she ate slowly, chewing the small chunks of bread and cheese when he offered them to her.

She almost wept when she put the spoon down, unable to eat any more with the bowl still two-thirds full.

“That’s good,” the stable master said, setting the bowl on a bale of hay. “We can warm it up again if you get hungry later. Now.” He took her hands. She couldn’t tell him how painful simple kindness was right now. “I know you’ve no time to waste, so we can put a cot in one of the stalls here. We keep a couple handy in case we need to keep a close eye on a sick horse. We can put it in the same stall with your lad if that will make you both rest easier.”

“I can’t.”