In no particular hurry, Commander Crayn stepped back onto his own mount. Gathering those five around him, he took them west, away from Estie’s destination. First at a canter, then at a clattering gallop, they left like men with urgent messages to deliver to Maloresse, or to King Bifalt.

Queen Estie understood. As soon as Crayn’s squad passed out of sight, they would leave the road and loop back around to the small woodland. When they entered the trees, they would approach from the north.

Then what?

Then anything.

Pretending that nothing had happened, she returned to her carriage and called through the open doorway, “Third Father. Magister Facile. We have paused to rest the horses and cook a meal. Please join us. If you are not hungry, you can stretch your legs.”

The sorceress did not respond; but after a moment, the monk appeared. There he paused, eyes downcast, until the coachman remembered to bring the step-stool. Then he made his descent, an old man moving stiffly.

When he joined Estie, he murmured, “Thank you, Queen. No doubt you have cause for an early halt. I heard some of your men depart. If you have no need for me, I will help with the cooking.” He appeared to smile. “The Cult of the Many teaches service.”

Under her breath, she asked, “Then advise me, Father. Should I prod her? She needs sustenance.”

The monk looked away. “She is herself, Queen. She will do what she must. Her desire to see Apprentice Travail once again will compel her.”

Sighing, Estie accepted his counsel. She worried about Facile. But she had other concerns to distract her.

Overhead, thin clouds stretched their fingers westward. In the east, they looked thicker, but they did not promise a storm.

It was too soon to fear for Crayn and his comrades. They had not had time to reach the back of the copse. Nevertheless she caught herself listening for the sound of rifle-fire.

While Queen Estie ate, she studied the distant trees. Surely Crayn was among them now? Or perhaps now? The birds swirling above the woods continued their flurry of ascent and glide of return, but she could not interpret what they told her. The Commander and his men were Amikan: they understood stealth. Even encumbered by their mounts, they would do little to alarm the denizens of the copse.

Whatever they did, they apparently had no need for their guns. When Crayn emerged, he and three of his guardsmen were on foot. The other two followed behind them, leading all of the horses.

Estie did not need the muted exclamations of the men around her to inform her that the Commander had taken prisoners, three of them. Crayn had arranged his captives in a line among his comrades so that each of them had an Amikan hand on each arm.