each other, completely immobile. The spells they had cast were wrapped around each other, as if they had been bobbins in the hands of a master weaver of things no one could see.
Only she could see the spells.
She held her breath, then slowly and very carefully took a step backward.
Then another.
The brothers didn’t seem to notice—not, perhaps, that they could have done anything about it had they noticed. She eased back into the darkness in absolute silence, grateful for all the practice she’d had at it over the years.
Once she was certain she could no longer be seen, she turned and strode away swiftly. Or she would have, if she hadn’t walked into horses she hadn’t realized were collected together so closely behind her, contentedly crunching on the underbrush.
She closed her eyes briefly in gratitude. Surely no one would begrudge her a means of escape given that the beasts’ masters wouldn’t be needing them anymore. She started to select a pair of them, then realized she would only be needing one.
Because Ruith was dead.
But he couldn’t be. She had seen him the day before. She had rescued him the day before, felt his arms go around her, heard his heart beating—
She took a deep breath and shoved aside thoughts that didn’t serve her. If she didn’t hurry, she would share his fate. If nothing else, she might manage to meet someone someday who could avenge him. She couldn’t do that if she were dead.
She tethered the fastest-looking horse of the group to a handy tree, then turned to the others. She stripped off their gear, finding a happy cache of gold she was quite certain one of the lads had been hiding from the others, then sent the beasts off away from the fire. She found a heavy food bag hung on a nearby tree and put it without compunction into one of her newly acquired saddlebags.
She took the reins in hand, then found herself simply standing still again, staring off unseeing into the darkness. She could scarce believe what she’d heard, but Ruith’s brothers would have had no reason to lie. And the truth was, he had been facing lads who had been positively salivating at the thought of watching him draw his last.
She shook her head, shaking aside thoughts that she couldn’t yet face. She swung up into the saddle and turned her horse south, then paused. Perhaps she couldn’t rush off as easily as she thought. She’d had companions on her journey, companions who were presumably waiting for her in Slighe. But how could she possibly take care of a farm boy, two wounded mages, and an alemaster named Franciscus who she had recently realized was quite a bit more than a mere brewer of very fine apple-flavored ale? She had no magic and no skills past weaving a bit of wool into something useful. She couldn’t even look into the shadows with any sort of courage at all—
She shivered. If Franciscus was a mage, which she had no doubt he was, and if he had survived the collapse of Ceangail, which she could only hope he had, he would no doubt go and collect the rest of her company and keep them safe.
Leaving her free to disappear, which she should do without hesitation. She considered what locales she could bring to mind immediately thanks to all the time she’d spent studying the geography of the Nine Kingdoms on the off chance she had the opportunity to escape to one of them.
She couldn’t go north, because it was the way she’d come from and was host to far too many unpleasant mages. West led her back to Shettlestoune where there wasn’t enough rain yet too much of her past. East was nothing but ruffians, endless plains of grasses that boasted few if any towns of any size, and the schools of wizardry. South didn’t sound very welcoming either, but it might do for a couple of years until she could earn enough money and wrap enough anonymity around herself to be able to move a bit more freely and go where she wanted to.
She silently wished her companions good fortune, promised herself enough time to grieve for Ruith when she was settled, then turned her mount south and gave him his head. She saw nothing, heard no swearing, didn’t find herself immediately felled by magic.
Perhaps things would improve sooner than she dared hope.
Two days later, she had to face the fact that, despite her tentative hopes, things