For a long while, as the two of them walked, no signs of the living were to be found. The morning was filled with haze, smoke from fires that still smoldered. It blew across their path, acrid and hot. Whenever they got near a particularly thick cloud, Vambran grew cautious, unhappy at the thought of something lurking inside it.

After a while, Vambran began to hear something. A commotion, perhaps, but definitely the voices of many people mixed together. As the pair neared the docks, the lieutenant could make it out more plainly.

"Do you hear that?" Vambran asked. "Something's going on up ahead. Let's go see."

But Arbeenok hesitated. "I will not be welcome," he said. "I am too different."

Vambran stopped and looked back, surprised for a moment at his companion's words. He had stopped thinking of Arbeenok as a strange creature. The alaghi was just a trustworthy friend to him. "You have a point. Can you transform into a dog again?"

"I could," the druid replied, "and I will if that is the best course. But perhaps we should use my abilities more thoughtfully."

Vambran cocked his head to one side and looked at the druid quizzically. "What do you have in mind?"

"We only waste time dealing with the people of this city right now," Arbeenok explained. "They do not understand our purpose, and they might fear that we carry the plague."

"I think it's pretty clear we don't," Vambran replied, frowning.

"But why waste time in proving it?" Arbeenok asked. "Our goal is to reach the water. Why do we want to mingle with the people?"

"Well, unless you have a better idea," Vambran said wryly, "walking to the docks is the only way I know of to get to the Reach. And in order to walk to the docks, we have to see what's happening."

Arbeenok smiled then. "I do, as you say, have a better idea," he replied. And he drank deeply of the morning air, sighed, and began to change.

The druid's arms snaked out, elongated and lightened, sprouting feathers. His face shifted and changed, rounding and enlarging, producing a beak where his mouth and nose had been before. His feet shortened and grew talons. His weight adjusted, redistributed, and his belongings vanished, melding into himself, becoming rich brown feathers. When the transformation was complete, Arbeenok regarded Vambran with a critical and very piercing eye.

The mercenary gaped for a moment, shocked once more by the feats Arbeenok was capable of. Then he smiled and said, "You're one damned large hawk."

Arbeenok squawked once in reply and leaped upward, beating his wings to gain speed and altitude. Swooping forward, the druid reached down and grasped Vambran by the shoulders, squeezing his talons together just enough to take hold of the man's armor without puncturing it and piercing his flesh.

Vambran gave a tiny yelp of surprise, but he did not struggle as they soared together skyward, Arbeenok beating his new wings furiously, hauling the extra weight up beneath him. For a moment, Vambran was aghast, but once he convinced himself that the druid would not drop him, he began to enjoy the moment for what it was.

The feeling of flying was exhilarating, and he reveled in it. The morning air was crisp as it whistled past him, cooling after the heavy smoke. Still, it was a long way down, and Vambran swallowed hard a couple of times, especially when the druid shifted and turned. He did not like to imagine dying such a death. Arbeenok circled about a few times, allowing Vambran a chance to study the ground as they rose higher and higher.

"This is incredible!" the mercenary shouted from below the druid.

The buildings of the city dwindled below them, and quickly, the pair was high above, able to see most of the settlement spread out below. Even the highest structure, the great tower of the Palace of the Seven, shooting upward near the center of the city, shrank beneath them. Much of Reth had burned in the night, and many fires still smoked. Bodies were strewn everywhere.

"There," Vambran said, pointing to the docks, and Arbeenok had to arch his head downward to see where the man pointed. "All those people. What's going on down there?"

Arbeenok swooped in closer, and Vambran could make out lines of soldiers holding a position, weapons readied. Crowds of people were strung out facing the soldiers, with a sizeable space between them. As the lieutenant watched, someone tried to run toward the soldiers, dodging and weaving. The soldiers fired bows and crossbows, and Vambran even saw a flash of magic. The runner went down, lying still. As they circled, Vambran realized that the soldiers surrounded the city. And they were holding the people inside.

They are preventing the citizens from spreading the plague, the mercenary thought. They won't let them leave the city. It made sense to him, though he was saddened by the soldiers' tactics. And when they swooped lower, the emblem on the soldiers' uniforms stirred anger in Vambran's heart.

They were men of the Silver Ravens.

The duo's shadow passed over a group of soldiers and the men on the ground looked up. Many began shouting and pointing. Though he knew that none of their weapons had the range necessary to be a true threat, Vambran feared a lucky shot. Nor, for that matter, did he wish to be a target for some wizard's clever magic. As if thinking the same thing, Arbeenok began pulling air beneath his wings with a few powerful strokes, and the pair quickly left the city behind, racing out over the open water of the Reach.

The arbor Patimi had spoken of was not far from Lobra's balcony, but in order to reach it, the two Matrell women and their prisoner had to descend a series of terraced flower beds that had been filled with numerous robust blooming plants, then cross an open lawn. Some of the flowers grew as tall as Emriana herself, and in addition, there were thick hedges, stands of swaying grass with razorlike leaves, and jumbles of thorny bushes. Beyond the flower beds, in the sliver of Selune that shone on it, the arbor loomed dark and forbidding, all overgrown and neglected.

At least we can hide in this mess, the girl thought as she shifted Lobra's weight and struggled down another level. No one would think to hunt for us in here.

On the other end of Lobra's limp form, Xaphira's labored breathing signaled to Emriana that her aunt was losing her energy quickly. That realization made her shudder, wondering what had happened to the older woman while she had been imprisoned in the dungeons of the Generon. After her own suffering at Lobra's hands and the bruises Xaphira sported, the girl's imagination lent itself to some pretty awful possibilities.

"You all right?" Emriana whispered as they shifted sideways to squeeze through a hedge. "You want to stop and rest?"

"No," Xaphira whispered back. "I'll be fine. Just winded."

"That's what I'm worried about," Emriana replied. "As much as I want to make Lobra pay for… this is a bit much. Maybe we ought to leave her here."

"No." Xaphira hissed, making it clear she wasn't going to change her mind. "She's the one advantage we have right now. I'll be all right. Keep moving."

Emriana started to argue, then snapped her mouth shut as she thought better of it. Xaphira could be as stubborn as Uncle Dregaul sometimes, and the girl sensed that it was one of those moments. That and the fact that I just casually mentioned that her own mother had died, Emriana thought, angry with herself. She must have a thousand questions, and we can't even talk about it.

Finally, the two of them reached the last terrace and stopped under the cover of a trellis heavy with some vine sprouting huge, sweet-smelling white blossoms. Emriana could feel Xaphira letting Lobra sag down to the damp, rich earth beneath them, so she did the same. They sat for a while, Emriana wondering what Xaphira was thinking. Finally, she leaned over and said, "I'm sorry."