A low sound rumbled in his chest, and he flicked a hand—a hand big enough to wrench her head from her shoulders, she did not doubt—to show she could go on about her business.

Luviara chuckled. “Fear not. We won’t lose the doughty Fulmo.”

Simo had gone back to find Qari and the others. Elen still could not see them. Suddenly, the sound of Hemerlin’s voice pierced the midday calm with the start of a fierce argument. Best to get as far away from that tumult as possible! Elen headed after the prince, who stood aside to allow her to take the lead. They descended into a drowsy woodland striped with shadows and light. After some time, the number of footfalls behind her doubled, and she looked back to see Simo, Kem, and Ipis catching up at a jog. Behind them came Fulmo, his big strides devouring twice as much ground, and she realized he had to hold back to not outpace the others.

She settled in for a long afternoon of ascents and descents. There was one rough scramble up a rocky escarpment hewn with primitive stairs. She called a halt at the exposed landmark known as Thistle Spring. Pure-water springs were commonly found in difficult-to-reach places, like this windswept terrace too small to house a settlement and the fields or grazing needed to support it. A small Heart Temple had been built, with a crude wall to create a courtyard. A bamboo pipe stuck into a large black stub of rock filtered the spring’s water into a holystone basin that someone long ago had hauled up here. The basin’s overflow trickled into a trough carved from the local rock. There was also an emergency shelter tucked into a shallow cave. A custodian came out at intervals to clean and repair the temple, but no one was here now.

As the wardens waited their turn to drink from the basin, Elen slid over to where Kem stood at the temple gate. Resting her fingers on his arm, she murmured, “How are you doing? Is all well?”

His mouth pinched. “I’m fine. Can’t you see I’m busy?” He jerked his arm away and stalked down to where Ipis was standing guard at the hewn stairs that led up to the terrace and its blessed spring.

Elen winced. The encounter with Lord Duenn and the past he represented had all happened so fast, and in the worst way. The prince was watching her, and she thought he was about to ask a question. She dipped her chin in warning, hoping he would say nothing.

Simo finished filling his leather bottle and called out, “Let’s move!”

The prince said, “Have all in the party had a drink from the spring?”

“Yes, yes,” said Simo impatiently, looking at the sky. It would be dark soon.

“I believe the deputy courier has not yet drunk. Let her do so.”