The prince walked about one hundred paces behind, accompanied by Fulmo, Qari, and Luviara. The theurgist still had no trouble keeping pace with the younger folk. Her stride was long and easy, her body relaxed as she walked in the manner of a person who has journeyed on foot a great deal and enjoys it.

A long way back, the small figure that was Hemerlin toiled alone, clearly winded as he struggled up the long slope. Because they’d been assigned as rearguard, Kem and Ipis had no choice but to hang back behind the chief menial. As she watched, Kem came forward and seemed to be offering assistance to the man. She couldn’t hear what was said, but Kem retreated, shoulders hunched defensively. Ipis set a hand on his shoulder and leaned close to speak in a supportive way. After a moment, he lifted his chin and nodded. A twinge of regret pinched Elen’s heart. She’d always been the one to comfort him. Yet wasn’t it heartening that he was getting along well with the person assigned to supervise his training? Camaraderie had to be good news. He’d taken the escape route open to him. There was no going back, since going back meant either Duenn Manor or life as a hunted fugitive. She knew better than to wish either of those fates upon her beloved boy.

“Deputy Courier!” Simo came up. “Is there a secure place the prince can rest for a short break?”

“Yes, Warden. That ring of cypresses—do you see it?”

“About two hundred paces down the trail?”

“It’s a travelers’ campsite.”

Simo sent Xilsi and Jirvy to investigate, then waited alongside Elen. The prince strode vigorously up, not at all out of breath. She began to think His Exalted Highness had indeed climbed ten peaks, or even danced them, but as much as she wanted to make a jesting comment, she knew better than to do so. He clasped his hands behind his back and scanned the view with keen interest, but said nothing.

Luviara was puffing but also smiling. “Deputy Courier! I believe I have at last put it together. This must be the site of the great burning, what some chronicles call the Root and Branch Irruption, and others call the High Horse Valley Irruption.”

“Yes, Your Worthiness. The ruined village we passed was known for its extensive herds. They supplied the needs of the Orledder Residency and provided pack horses for trade in the hills. But that was a long time ago. It’s all gone now.”

Down by the cypress circle, Xilsi gestured an all clear.

“Your Highness,” said Simo, “there is a campsite where we can break for a short rest and refreshment. If you will.”

The prince looked toward Xilsi, then back toward Hemerlin, still a significant distance away. His gaze slid toward Elen, and he arched an eyebrow, as if to ask what the correct decision would be.