The lane grew bumpier as they approached the ridge, as the land began to slope and rumple. So far, the lane had two well-worn ruts and continued north along the base of the ridge past a string of lowland villages. A hallow-wood guidepost marked the turnoff where the main path into the Moonrise Hills began to climb the ridge. There was a ditch-ringed, stone-walled trading post just out of sight behind a thick stand of cypress. Merchants stopped there to exchange wagons for mules, donkeys, and mouflon, or to transfer their goods into the hands of an experienced upland, or lowland, trader, depending on which direction they were coming from.

“You can leave the carriages at Lancer’s Post, past the cypresses,” she said. “The official will delegate pack animals to your party for the rest of the journey.”

Hemerlin did not even look her way. He turned the carriage onto the path. The panthers surged forward as they strained up the steepening ascent.

Elen was so shocked she couldn’t speak but she finally found her voice. “Chief Menial Hemerlin, no one takes wagons this way.”

“The prince is not no one, Deputy Courier.”

“I mean to say, the path grows narrower. It’s for foot traffic and pack animals. It’s not meant for wheeled vehicles pulled by beasts. There’s no room. We’ll crash over the side.”

He did not reply, did not even acknowledge her warning. Up they rolled, the panthers straining as the ascent steepened. She eyed the path above as it became a switchback toward the top of the ridge, measuring where they would reach the limit of their wheel span. At what point would she have to leap? When would the wheels slip over the edge of the leveled path and the carriage plunge and crack down the steep slope? Could she signal to Kem? She glanced back, but he was grinning as he and Ipis chattered, unaware of the danger. Her body coiled with tension. The viper flickered awake with a pulse of adrenaline.

Yet somehow, the carriages kept climbing. Somehow, the path remained wide enough. Was her view of the path an illusion? Was it really wider than she thought? Had she misjudged?

Yet it seemed to her that the wheels rolled across empty air, as if held up on an invisible surface. Was the theurgist using magic? A humble deputy courier was not privy to such arcane knowledge. People like her could never gain access to the intensive study regime necessary to master it. Even if she could have, she’d never be able to risk imperial officials discovering the viper.