She felt her stomach roil with nausea at the vivid memory of what she had seen. She held back her tears, but she needed the air of outdoors and the solitude of the night.

As she and Sebastian wound their way through the crowd and toward that air, she bumped into a big man as they crossed paths. Stopped by the human wall, she looked up into the handsome face. She remembered him. He was the man they had seen on the road to Lathea's place, earlier.

He lifted his cap in greeting. "Evening." He grinned at her.

"Good evening," she said. She told herself to smile, and make it believable, normal. She wasn't sure if she was doing a good job of it, but he seemed to find it convincing.

He didn't act as shy as she thought he had seemed before. Even the way he carried himself, his movements, were more sure. Maybe it was just that her smile was working as she had hoped.

"You two look like you could use a drink." When Jermsen frowned, not knowing what the man meant, he gestured at her face, and then at Sebastian. "Your noses are red with the cold. May I buy you an ale on this chill night?"

Before Sebastian could accept, which she feared he might, she said, "Thank you, no. We have to go… to check on some business. But it was very kind of you to offer." She made herself smile again. "Thank you."

The way the man stared at her made her nervous. The thing was, she found herself staring back into his blue eyes just as intently, and she didn't know why. Finally, she broke the gaze and, after a bow of her head to bid the big man a good night, made her way toward the door.

"Something about him look familiar?" she whispered to Sebastian.

"Yes. We saw him earlier, out on the streets, when we were on our way to Lathea's house."

She looked back over her shoulder, peering between the milling throng. "I guess maybe that's all it is, then."

Before she went out the door, the man, as if he sensed her looking at him, turned. When their eyes met, and he smiled, it was as if no one else existed for either of them. His smile was polite, no more, but it made her go cold and tingly all over, the way the dead voice in her head sometimes did. There was something frightening familiar about the feeling she got looking at him, and the way he looked at her. Something about the look in his eyes reminded her of the voice.

It was as if she remembered him from a deep dream she had completely forgotten until that very instant. The sight of him, in her awake life, left her… shaken.

She was relieved to make it out into the empty night and be on their way. She bundled her cloak's hood close around her face, against the bitter wind, as they hurried across the snow and down the street. Her thighs stung with the cold. She was glad the stable was not far, but she knew that would be only a brief respite. It was going to be a long cold night, but there was no choice. Lord Rahl's men were too close. They had to run.

While Sebastian went to rouse the stableman, Jennsen squeezed through the barn door. A lantern hanging from a beam provided enough light for her to make her way to the pen where Betty was tied up for the night. The shelter from the wind, along with the warm bodies of the horses and the sweet smell of hay and dusty wood, made the stable a cozy haven.

Betty bleated plaintively when she saw Jennsen, as if she feared she had been abandoned for all time. Betty's upright tail was a happy blur as Jermsen sank to one knee and hugged the goat's neck. Jennsen stood and stroked her hand along the silken ears, a touch Betty mooned over. As the horse in the next stall put her head over the rail to watch her stablemate, Betty stood on her hind legs, joyful to be reunited with her lifelong friend and eager to be closer.

Jermsen patted the wiry hair on Betty's fat middle. "There's a good girl." She urged the lovable goat down. "Glad to see you, too, Betty."

Jennsen, at ten, had been there for Betty's birth, and had named her. Betty had been Jennsen's only childhood friend, and had listened patiently to any number of worries and fears. When her short horns first began to come in, Betty had in turn rubbed and comforted her head against her faithful friend. Other than her worry of being abandoned by her lifelong companion, Betty's fears in life were few.

Jennsen groped through her pack until her fingers located a carrot for the ever-hungry goat. Betty danced about as she watched, then with her tail wagging in excitement accepted the treat. For reassurance, after the torment of an unusual separation, she rubbed the top of her head against Jermsen's thigh while chewing the carrot.

The horse in the next stall, her bright intelligent eyes watching, neighed softly and tossed her head. Jennsen smiled and gave the horse a carrot along with a rub on her white blaze.

Jermsen heard the jangle of tack as Sebastian returned, along with the stableman, both carrying saddles. Each man, in turn, laid his load over the rail of Betty's stall. Betty, still wary of Sebastian, backed a few steps.

"Sorry to lose the company of your friend, there," the man said, indicating the goat, as he came up beside Sebastian.

Jennsen scratched Betty's ears. "I appreciate her care."

"Not much care. The night isn't over." The man's gaze shifted from Sebastian to Jennsen. "Why do you two want to leave in the night, anyway? And why do you want to buy horses? Especially at this hour?"

Jennsen froze in panic. She hadn't expected to have anyone question her and so she had no answer prepared.

"It's my mother," Sebastian said in a confidential tone. He let out a convincing sigh. "We just got word that she's taken ill. They don't know if she'll last until we can get there. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't… Well, we'll just have to make it in time, that's all."

The man's suspicious expression softened with sympathy. Jennsen was surprised at how credible Sebastian sounded. She tried to imitate his look of concern.

"I understand, son. I'm sorry-I didn't realize. What can I do to help?"

"Which two horses can you sell us?" Sebastian asked.

The man scratched his whiskered chin. "You going to leave the goat?"

Sebastian said «Yes» at the same time Jennsen said "No."

The man's big dark eyes looked from one to the other.

"Betty won't slow us down," Jennsen said. "She can keep up. We'll make it to your mother just the same."

Sebastian leaned a hip against the rail. "I guess the goat will be leaving with us."

With a sigh of disappointment, the man gestured to the horse Jennsen was scratching behind the ear. "Rusty, here, gets on well with that goat of yours. I guess she'd be as good to sell as any of the others. You're a tall girl, so she would fit you well."

Jermsen nodded her agreement. Betty, as if she had understood every word, bleated hers.

"I have a strong chestnut gelding that would better carry your weight," he said to Sebastian. "Pete's down the way, there, on the right. I'd be willing to let you have him along with Rusty, here."

"Why's she called Rusty?" Jennsen asked.

"Dark as it is in here, you can't see so well, but she's a red roan, about as red as they come, all except that white blaze on her forehead."

Rusty sniffed Betty. Betty licked Rusty's muzzle. The horse snorted softly in response.

"Rusty it is," Sebastian said. "And the other, then."

The stableman scratched his stubble again and nodded to seal the agreement. "I'll go get Pete."

When they returned, Jermsen was pleased to see Pete nuzzle a greeting against Rusty's shoulder. With danger close on their heels, the last thing she wanted to have to worry about was handling bickering horses, but these two were friendly enough. The two men hurried at their work. A mother lay dying, after all.

Riding with a blanket on her lap promised to be a welcome relief from traveling on foot. A horse would help keep her warm and make the night ahead more tolerable. They had a long rope for Betty, who tended to get distracted by things along the way-edible things, especially.

Jennsen didn't know what Sebastian had to pay for the horses and tack, nor did she care. It was money that had come from her mother's killers, and would get them away. Getting away was all that mattered.

With a wave to the stableman as he held the big door open for them, they rode out into the frigid night. Both horses, apparently pleased at the prospect of activity, despite the hour, stepped briskly along the street. Rusty turned her head back, making sure that Betty, at their left, was keeping up.

It wasn't long before they passed the last building on their way out of town. Thin clouds raced before the rising moon, but left enough light to turn the snow-covered road to a silk ribbon between the thick darkness of the woods along each side.

Betty's rope suddenly jerked tight. Jennsen looked over her shoulder, expecting to see the goat trying to nibble at a young branch. Instead, Betty, her legs stiff, had her hooves dug in, resisting any progress.

"Betty," Jennsen whispered harshly, "come on! What's wrong with you? Come on." The goat's weight was no match for the horse, so she was dragged down the snowy road against her will.

When Sebastian's horse stepped over, jostling Rusty, Jennsen saw the trouble. They were overtaking a man walking down the road. In his dark clothing, they hadn't seen him at the right side, against the dark of the trees. Knowing that horses didn't like surprises, Jennsen patted Rusty's neck to assure her that the man wasn't anything to be frightened of. Betty, though, remained unconvinced, and used all the rope available to swing a wide arc.

Jennsen saw then that it was the big blond man from the inn, the man who had offered to buy them a drink-the man she thought, for some reason, should dwell only in her dream life rather than in her waking life.

Jennsen kept an eye on the man as they passed him. As cold as she was, it felt as if a door opened into the infinitely colder eternal night of the underworld.

Sebastian and the stranger exchanged a brief greeting in passing. Once beyond the man, Betty scampered ahead, pulling at her rope, eager to put distance between her and the man, "Grushdeva du kalt misht.»

Jennsen, her breath caught fast at the end of a gasp, turned to stare wide-eyed at the man walking down the road behind. It sounded like it had been he who'd spoken the words. That was impossible; those were the strange words from inside her head.