“There now, Mina.” Nightshade began to thump her on the back to help her quit crying. “I’m sorry I lost my temper. I understand why you did it, but you still shouldn’t have run away. As for almost getting Rhys killed, that’s nothing. I’ve almost gotten Rhys killed a couple of times and he’s almost gotten me killed a bunch. It’s what friends are for.”

Mina looked extremely startled at this, and even Nightshade had to admit his explanation didn’t sound as good when it came out of his mouth as it had when it was in his head.

“What I mean, Mina, is that Rhys cares about you. He won’t stop caring just because you’ve run off. And now you’ve added worrying and wondering to caring. As for you putting him in danger”-Nightshade shrugged-“he’s known all along that he would be in danger when he decided to take you to Godshome. The danger doesn’t make any difference to him. Because he cares.”

Mina regarded him intently, and it seemed to Nightshade that her tear-shimmering amber eyes would swallow him whole. She reached out a tentative hand.

“Is it the same with you?” she asked meekly. “Do you care about me?”

Nightshade was bound to be truthful. “I’m not as good a person as Rhys, and maybe for a moment or two back there I didn’t care much at all, but only for a moment… Or two.”

He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “I do care, Mina. And I am sorry I spanked you. So help me stack up these rocks up again.”

Mina helped him arrange the rocks and then they continued on, heading east. The road led through fields of tall grass, past a small pond, over a couple of creeks. By this time, the sun was barely a red smear in the sky. From the top of a hill, they could see the road dip down into a valley and disappear into a forest.

Nightshade considered their options. They could camp here, by the roadside, out in the open. Rhys would be able to find them, but then, so would anyone else including thieves and brigands, and while Mina, being a god, could take care of herself, would she take care of Nightshade and Atta? Having seen her in action in the temple, Nightshade didn’t much like the odds.

If they camped in the forest, there would be lots of places-hollowed logs, thickets, and so forth-where they could rest close to the road and yet remain hidden. Atta would alert them if Rhys came along.

Having made up his mind, Nightshade started down the road leading into the forest. Mina, being on her best behavior after their fight, kept close to his side and Atta padded behind them. The sun slipped away to wherever it went to spend the night and left the world a lot darker than one might have imagined it could be. Nightshade had hoped for a moon or two to give some light, but the moons were apparently off on other business, for they didn’t make an appearance and the stars were obscured by the thick leaves of the overarching tree branches.

Nightshade had been in a lot of forests, and he couldn’t recall having been in one quite this dark or this gloomy. He couldn’t see hardly anything, but he could hear quite well and what he heard was a lot of slinking, skulking, and sneaking noises. Atta didn’t help matters by glaring into the woods and growling, and once she made a lunge at something and snapped her teeth and the something growled and snapped back, but it went away.

Mina took hold of his hand, so as not to lose him in the darkness. She was obviously frightened, but she never said a word. She seemed to be trying to make up for being a brat, which gesture touched Nightshade. He was thinking that his idea of camping in the forest had not been one of his best. He had been keeping an eye out for a place to spend the night, but he couldn’t find anything, and the forest was growing darker by the moment. Something dove at them from a tree and soared over their heads with a cawing shriek, causing Mina to scream and crouch into a ball and Nightshade fell and twisted his ankle.

“We have to stop and make camp,” he said.

“I don’t want to stop here,” said Mina, shivering.

“I can’t see my nose in front of my eyeballs,” Nightshade told her. “We’ll be safe enough-”

Atta gave a blood-curdling bark and attacked something and wrestled with it briefly. Whatever it was yelped and loped off. Atta stood panting and Mina’s lower lip quivered. So did Nightshade’s heart.

“Well, maybe just a little farther,” he said.

The three continued on along the road; Mina walking close to Nightshade and Nightshade shuffling along in the dark, with Atta growling at every other step.

“I see a light!” said Mina, stopping suddenly.

“No, you don’t,” Nightshade said crossly. “You couldn’t. What would a light be doing out here in a dark old forest?”

“But I do see a light,” Mina insisted.

And then Nightshade saw it, too-a light shining amongst the trees. The light shone from a window and a window meant a house and a house with a light in the window meant someone living here in the woods in a house with a light in the window. What’s more, he smelled the most wonderful smell-the tantalizing scent of bread or cake or pie hot out of the oven.

“Let’s go!” said Mina excitedly.

“Wait a moment,” said Nightshade. “When I was a little kender, my mother told a story about a horrible old witch who lured the children into her house and stuffed them into her oven and baked them into gingerbread.”

Mina made a gasping sound and clutched his hand so tightly he lost all feeling in his fingers. Nightshade sniffed the air again. Whatever was being cooked smelled really, really good, not at all like baked children. And spending the night in a soft bed would be far preferable to sleeping in a hollow log, providing he could find one.

“Let’s go see,” he said.

“Go see a horrible old witch?” Mina quavered, hanging back.

“I’m pretty sure I was wrong about that,” Nightshade replied. “It wasn’t a witch. It was a beautiful lady and she baked gingerbread/or the children, not the other way around.”

“Are you sure?” Mina wasn’t convinced.

“Positive,” said Nightshade.

The odd thing was, however, that he could have sworn the moment he mentioned it that he did smell gingerbread.

Mina made no further argument. Keeping tight hold of his hand, they walked up to the house. Nightshade ordered Atta to stay by his side, since he was forced to admit privately that they were far more likely to find horrible witches living in dark and gloomy forests than beautiful ladies. Atta had quit growling, and Nightshade took that for a good sign.

As they drew closer to the light, Nightshade grew more and more hopeful. He could see the light came from a snug little cabin of maybe two or three rooms. A candle stood in the window, gleaming through white curtains and lighting their way along a neat flagstone path lined with flowers whose petals drooped drowsily and filled the air with sweet perfume.

All this boded well, but Nightshade was a cautious kender, and he had a spell prepared for use, just in case.

“If this turns out to be a horrible witch,” he whispered to Mina, “I’ll yell ‘run’ and you run. Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch up with you.”

She nodded nervously. He had to pry her hand loose, because he was going to need one of his hands to knock at the door and the other hand to cast his spell in case a witch answered.

“Atta, you be ready,” he warned the dog.

Reaching the door, Nightshade gave it a brisk rap.

“Hullo!” he called out. “Is anyone home?”

The door opened and light poured out. A woman stood in the doorway. Nightshade couldn’t see her very well, for bright light dazzled his eyes. She was dressed all in white, and he had the impression she was kind and gentle and loving and yet strong and powerful and commanding. He didn’t know how anyone could be all these things at once, but he felt it was so, and he was a little fearful.