Chane did not know what had become of Wynn. Or his horse. Or Welstiel, for that matter.

He stepped back into the forest. Wynn had his cloak and, except for his sword and the clothes he wore, everything he owned was still at the Ivy Vine inn. He lingered behind a tree and searched the gathering of wagons and people for an opportunity to feed.

Most of those on foot stood before the city gate, arguing and pleading to be let in. A few remained behind among the wagons and carts. One was alone, sitting on the lowered gate of a wagon with a small lantern.

She was young, perhaps not yet in her teen years. It was hard to tell with the blanket draped over her head and pulled tightly about her. She had folded her legs beneath the covering as well, and only her face was visible. Lean cheeked, with a nose blushed by the cold, she looked down into her lap.

Chane crouched low, darting to the next closest tree. He could take this one and drag her into the forest. A feeble peasant girl was easy enough to smother into silence until he was done with her.

She struggled with the blanket to free one slender hand, and turned a piece of parchment in her lap.

Chane froze behind the tree.

It was not a parchment, but the page of a book. He saw it clearly now. When she turned the next page, Chane saw lines of faded writing on the yellowed paper, stained with age.

Hunger's ache reminded him they were only mortal cattle, breeding and toiling, and living out their short existence in such ignorance that their deaths were no loss to the world. No loss at all, but…

The girl was reading.

Chane clenched his teeth. Where and how had this peasant whelp become literate? As he was, as Wynn was?

"Skulking?" someone whispered behind him.

Chane turned, ready to satisfy himself with whatever fool had managed to catch him unaware. A few paces into the woods, the shadowed silhouette of Welstiel stepped from between the tree trunks.

"How did you get out?" Chane rasped.

"Most likely the same way you did."

There was something akin to defeat in Welstiel's voice.

"What's wrong?" Chane asked.

Welstiel gazed toward the city gates. "It is probable that Magiere still follows Leesil into the elven territory."

Chane did not care, but he had nowhere else to go. "Then we find our horses and a way to retrieve our possessions, and we follow-as always."

"We cannot."

"Why?"

"She and her companions can enter that land. She travels with a half-elf and a majay-hi. We do not. If we tried to enter, we would fail. The dead cannot walk in to those lands."

Chane stood there, absorbing his companion's words. There were too many times Welstiel revealed knowledge and awareness of things only when it suited him. Chane was growing very tired of this.

"And we cannot reenter the city," Welstiel continued. "Now that Darmouth has been assassinated, there is no telling how long before the gates will be unsealed, if at all."

"Our money, clothing, my bird… my books are still inside!" Chane rasped at him. "We have no horses. We have nothing, and now you tell me we cannot follow Wynn… Magiere any longer? There has to be a way to get to the inn."

Welstiel shook his head. "Omasta knows my face, and yours will be remembered as well. I have coins with me, and we will find horses and make our way."

Chane could scarcely believe Welstiel's calm demeanor. "To where?"

Welstiel looked him in the face. "The Crown Range. I have my own notion of where to look, and for the moment there is nothing more to be done with Magiere. If we find the location of the object I seek, we may better drive her to it once she finishes this nonsense with Leesil. She will have to pass through the mountains again when she leaves the elven lands. If we cannot follow Magiere, we must wait and make her come to us."

Chane leaned back against the tree.

Wynn would go north with Magiere to play interpreter, a human thrown in among elves who despised her kind. Welstiel had once again bungled his attempt to control Magiere, and once again Wynn walked a hazardous road. This time Chane could not follow.

"Leesil will protect her," Welstiel said, guessing his thoughts. "I believe he has much to answer for. He will look out for her, as will Magiere."

Such sentiment was unexpected-and unwanted-but Chane saw no choice but to follow his companion yet again. Sooner or later he would make Welstiel answer many questions… answer for the way he played with Wynn's well-being.

And Chane had not forgotten Welstiel's slumbering mumbles. To never feed again.

If whatever Welstiel sought possessed such power, Chane now wished to pursue it as well. Once this journey ended, Welstiel was to write him letters of introduction to a sage's guild. In the smallest part of Chane's mind, he imagined Wynn might yet…

He shook his head. Such a possibility was far from his reach, if he ever came within its grasp at all.

"We should find horses," Chane whispered.

Welstiel nodded and turned away. Before Chane followed, he looked back once through the low branches at the peasant girl reading an old book.

Two evenings later, Leesil drove the wagon into the courtyard of Lord Geyren's stone manor. A soldier, or perhaps just a house guard, greeted

Hedi politely. He looked a little surprised at how she traveled and the company she kept.

Magiere sat beside Leesil, their shabby clothing badly in need of washing. The wagon was packed with chests and blankets and canvas tarps. Korey sat on one chest, her curly hair in a tangle. She wore one of Hedi's wool gowns and Wynn's sheepskin coat-both too large-and struggled to keep her hands free for the apple she munched. Wynn huddled with Chap upon a pile of canvas. She had donned breeches and her short robe but also wore Chane's cloak, much too large for her small frame, and it hung about her like a blanket.

Leesil remained quiet for most of the journey. His throat ached, and hurt worse when he tried to speak, but this wasn't the reason for his silence. Wynn and the others were unaware of how Darmouth had truly died. Magiere had told no one.

"My lady," the guard said to Hedi. "I am at your service. Lord Geyren sent word that you would come."

No matter what the man thought of Hedi's ragtag arrival, he treated them all as guests. Servants unpacked their chests and took Port and Imp to a stable. The guard led the weary travelers inside the manor. Hedi put her arms around Korey. She did not look at Leesil or acknowledge his presence as she turned to the guard.

"We would prefer food brought to our rooms," she said. "We are tired, and my young charge needs rest. Please put the two of us in the same room."

The guard nodded.

Hedi had decided it would be too much for Korey to learn of her parents' fate along the road. Now she asked for time alone with the girl. Or perhaps she didn't care to eat with the man who had destroyed her loved ones, her family. Leesil felt sorrow for Korey, but at least she would have a place with Hedi and her baron, Emel.

Chap and Wynn were shown to a room on the second floor, and a servant opened up a thick wooden door across the hall for Leesil and Magiere. Leesil carried in their travel chest and set it down at the foot of the bed.

A plush carpet covered the stone floor between a cushioned chair and dresser with polished brass handles. The painting on the far wall showed sun-drenched mountains in the early dawn. On the bed, large enough for three, was a cream comforter decorated with lace fringe.

Magiere settled a smaller chest upon the one Leesil had set down. She walked around the bed's side and brushed the comforter with her fingertips. She stood there, staring blankly at it, as if uncertain she could trust such luxury.