The old menial, Hemerlin, impatiently waved his fly whisk, indicating Elen should climb up onto the driver’s seat of the first carriage, beside him. The panthers stood so still she wondered if whatever magic drove them had wound down, although lines of glimmering force swept in visible patterns across their silky black coats. As she settled onto the seat, their ears twitched as if they’d heard her. One growled softly as another’s tail lashed. Almost as if they’d sensed the presence of the viper, she thought uneasily. Hemerlin gave a curt whistle, and the beasts settled back to stiffness.

The carriage door clicked shut below, followed by a triple rap onto the carriage roof from inside. Hemerlin whistled in a different cadence, answered by whistles from the drivers of the other carriages.

Elen said, “We can’t take the carriages into the Moonrise Hills. The path is only passable on foot, with pack animals if you need to haul goods beyond what a person can carry.”

Hemerlin gave her a long look meant to wither her spirit. “No one has spoken to you, Deputy Courier. You’ll be informed when your opinion is requested.”

She stifled a laugh. They’d find out soon enough. It was no skin off her nose. Kem was safe, or as safe as he could be for now. As she braced her pack between her legs, she saw Lord Duenn glaring from a balcony. His grimacing features reminded her of the clownish villain in The Five Cunning Brigands Without Compare. Naturally, the brigands bested the evil lord in the end. How she wanted to wave merrily at Duenn in a final taunt, but she refrained.

Hemerlin collected the reins. “Hyah!”

The panthers surged forward, onlookers scattering as the carriages began to roll.

They were on their way.

22 BEST ADMIRED FROM A DISTANCE

As the cavalcade swept out of the Residence, Elen had to decide whether to speak first and be punished, or to let Hemerlin turn south when he needed to turn north and only belatedly figure out he had gone wrong by not consulting her. The latter was an entertaining scenario that, in other circumstances, she would have allowed to spool out just to see what would happen. But she would be blamed no matter which choice she made. Meanwhile, Lord Duenn brooded in the Residence, eager to find any possible way to yank Kem back into his cruel clutches.

So she spoke. “North, not south.”

“There is a lane that branches off the road to the south of the Halt,” he objected with the haughty confidence of a man who knows the map but not the land.