Quartz grabbed him by the shirt front and lifted him off the floor. Her broadsword scraped from its scabbard. Wess had never seen Quartz draw it, in defence or anger; she had never seen the blade. But Quartz had not neglected it. The edge gleamed with transparent sharpness.

'I forswore the frenzy when I abandoned war,' Quartz said very quietly. 'But you are very nearly enough to make me break my oath.' She opened her hand and he fell to his knees before the point of the sword.

'I meant no harm, my lady -'

'Do not call me "lady"! I am not of noble birth! I was a soldier and I am a woman. If that cannot deserve your courtesy, then you cannot command my mercy!'

'I meant no harm, I meant no offence. I beg your pardon ...' He looked up into her unreadable silver eyes. 'I beg your pardon, northern woman.'

There was no contempt in his voice now, only terror, and to Wess that was just as bad. She and Quartz could expect nothing here, except to be despised or feared. They had no other choices.

Quartz sheathed her sword. 'Your silver is on the table,' she said coldly. 'We had no mind to cheat you.'

He scrabbled up and away from them, into the room. Quartz grabbed the key from the inside, slammed the door, and locked it.

'Let's get out of here.'

They clattered down the stairs. In the street, they tied the packs together and to the horses' harnesses as best they could. Above,. they heard the innkeeper banging at the door, and when he failed to break it down, he came to the window.

'Help!' he cried. 'Help, kidnappers! Brigands!' Quartz vaulted up behind Aristarchus and Chan clambered up behind Wess. 'Help!' the innkeeper cried. 'Help, fire! Floods!'

Aristarchus gave his horse its head and it sprang forward. Wess's stallion tossed his mane, blew his breath out hard and loud, and leaped from a standstill into a gallop. All Wess could do was hold on, clutching the mane and the harness, hunching over the horse's withers, as he careered down the street.

They galloped through the outskirts of Sanctuary, splashed across the river at the ford, and headed north along the river trail. The horses sweated into a lather and Aristarchus insisted on slowing down and breathing them. Wess saw the sense of that, and, too, she could detect no pursuit from the city. She scanned the sky, but darkness hid any sign of the flyers.

Abandoning the headlong pace, they walked the horses or let them jog. Each step jarred Wess's ribs. She tried to concentrate on pushing out the pain, but to do it well she needed to stop, dismount, and relax. That was impossible right now. The road and the night led on forever.

At dawn, they reached the faint abandoned trail Wess had brought them in on. It led away from the road, directly up into the mountains.

The trees, black beneath the slate-blue sky, closed in overhead. Wess felt as if she had fought her way out of a nightmare world into a world she knew and loved. She did not yet feel free, but she could consider the possibility of feeling free again.

'Chan?'

'I'm here, love.'

She took his hand, where he held her gingerly around the waist, and kissed his palm. She leaned back against him, and he held her.

A stream gushed between the gnarled roots of trees, beside the nearly invisible trail.

'We should stop and let the horses rest,' Aristarchus said. 'And rest, ourselves.'

'There's a clearing a little way ahead,' Wess said. 'It has grass. They eat grass, don't they?'

Aristarchus chuckled. 'They do, indeed.'

When they reached the clearing. Quartz jumped down, stumbled, groaned, and laughed. 'It's a long time since I rode horseback,' she said. She helped Aristarchus off. Chan dismounted and stood testing his legs after the long ride. Wess sat where she was. She felt as if she were looking at the world through Lythande's secret sphere.

The sound of great wings filled the cold dawn. Satan and Aerie landed in the centre of the clearing and hurried towards them.

Wess twined her fingers in the skewbald's striped mane and slid off his back. She leaned against his shoulder, exhausted, taking short shallow breaths. She could hear Chan and Quartz greeting the flyers. But Wess could not move.

'Wess?'

She turned slowly, still holding the horse's mane. Satan smiled down at her. She was used to flyers being lean, but they were sleek: Satan was gaunt, his ribs and hips sharp beneath his skin. His short fur was dull and dry, and besides the scars on his back he had marks on his ankles, and around his throat, where he had been bound.

'Oh, Satan -' She embraced him, and he enfolded her in his wings.

'It's done,' he said. 'It's over.' He kissed her gently. Everyone gathered around him. He brushed the back of his hand softly down the side of Quartz's face, and bent down to kiss Chan.

'Frejojani ...' He looked at them all, then, as a tear spilled down his cheek, he wrapped himself in his wings and cried.

They held him and caressed him until the racking sobs ceased. Ashamed, he scrubbed away the tears with the palm of his hand. Aristarchus stood nearby, blinking his large green eyes.

'You must think me an awful fool, Aristarchus, a fool, and weak.'

The troll shook his head. 'I think, when I can finally believe I'm free ...' He looked at Wess. Thank you.'

They sat beside the stream to rest and talk.

'It's possible that we aren't even being followed,' Quartz said.

'We watched the city, till you entered the forest,' Aerie said. 'We saw no one else on the river road.'

'Then they might not have realized anyone but another flyer helped Satan escape. If no one saw us fell the tent -'

Wess reached into the stream and splashed her face, cupped her hand in the water, and lifted it to her lips. The first rays of direct sunlight pierced the branches and entered the clearing.

Her hand was still bloody. The blood was mixing with the water. She choked and spat, lurched to her feet, and bolted. A few paces away she fell to her knees and retched violently.

There was nothing in her stomach but bile. She crawled to the stream and scrubbed her hands, then her face, with sand and water. She stood up again. Her friends were staring at her, shocked.

'There was someone,' she said. 'Bauchle Meyne. But I killed him.'

'Ah,' Quartz said.

'You've given me another gift,' Satan said. 'Now I don't have to go back and kill him myself.'

'Shut up, Satan, she's never killed anyone before.'

'Nor have I. But I would have ripped out his throat if just once he'd left the chains slack enough for me to reach him!'

Wess wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ease the ache in her ribs. Suddenly Quartz was beside her.

'You're hurt - why didn't you tell me?'

Wess shook her head, unable to answer. And then she fainted.

She woke up at midaftemoon, lying in the shade of a tall tree in a circle of her friends. The horses grazed nearby, and Aristarchus sat on a stone beside the stream, combing the tangles from his fur. Wess got up and went to sit beside him.

'Did you call my name?'

'No,' he said.

'I thought I heard -' She shrugged. 'Never mind.'

'How are you feeling?'

'Better.' Her ribs were bandaged tight. 'Quartz is a good healer.'

'No one is following. Aerie looked, a little while ago.'

'That's good. May I comb your back for you?'

'That would be a great kindness.'

In silence, she combed him, but she was paying very little attention. The third time the comb caught on a knot, Aristarchu" protested quietly.