He winced. Thank God he hadn’t hit an artery. It didn’t try to flee, just sat stiffly on its haunches like an injured cat. He had the impression, from its resigned expression, that the Questing Beast had to go through this kind of thing once a century or so. The cost of doing business. Its blood looked black in the pre-dawn twilight.

It showed no fear as Quentin approached. It reached back with its supple neck and grasped the arrow firmly in its square white teeth. With a jerk the shaft came free. It spat out the arrow at Quentin’s feet.

“Hurts, that,” the Questing Beast said matter-of-factly.

It had been three days since Quentin had spoken to anybody.

“What now,” he said hoarsely.

“Wishes, of course. You get three.”

“My friend Penny lost his hands. Fix them.”

The stag’s eyes defocused momentarily in thought.

“I cannot. I am sorry. He is either dead or not in this world.”

The sun was just beginning to come up over the dark, massed fir forest. Quentin took a deep breath. The cold air smelled fresh and turpentiney.

“Alice. She turned into some kind of spirit. A niffin. Bring her back.”

“Again I cannot.”

“What do you mean you can’t? It’s a wish.”

“I don’t make the rules,” the Questing Beast said. It lapped at the blood that still trickled down its thigh. “You don’t like it, find some other magic stag and shoot it instead.”

“I wish that the rules were different.”

The stag rolled its eyes. “No. And I’m counting those three together as your first wish. What’s number two?”

Quentin sighed. He hadn’t really allowed himself to hope.

“Pay off my crew. Double what I promised them.”

“Done,” the Questing Beast replied.

“That’s ten times their base salary, since I already quintupled it.”

“I said ‘done,’ didn’t I? What’s number three?”

Years ago Quentin had worked out exactly what he would wish for if anybody ever gave him the chance. He would wish to travel to Fillory and to be allowed to stay there forever. But that was years ago.

“Send me home,” he said.

The Questing Beast closed its round brown eyes gravely, then opened them. It dipped its antlers toward him.

“Done,” it said.