Wynn was dumbfounded, not even sure what Magiere was trying to say. Then she remembered Osha's speaking of his father, who had died young for an elf. His mother had not risen from her grief-and had not lived her full span.

Wynn looked wide-eyed at Magiere. "What are you saying?"

"Leesil is everything to me," Magiere went on. "I'm sometimes afraid, thinking of what I've done to him, and that he'd suffer if anything happened to me-but I'll never leave him. I want to see his face every day of my life and just before I close my eyes each night. Can you say the same about Osha?"

Wynn swallowed and closed her eyes, finally catching Magiere's meaning.

She envisioned Osha's kind, long face. Then she thought of the days ahead, studying what texts she had saved from the castle's library.

Osha's face changed to a pale and narrow one, with red-brown hair and eyes almost colorless. Chane's image faded as Wynn opened her eyes.

"I cannot," she finally whispered.

Magiere reached across the table, gently gripping Wynn's small hand.

"Then don't give him false hopes. I know you'd never hurt anyone on purpose, but you could harm him just the same… and far worse than you'd care to imagine."

Magiere took a long breath, as if what she'd said cost more effort than trudging through the Everfen. She released Wynn's hand and stood up.

"Let's get our beds ready."

Wynn's legs trembled as she got up. "Magiere?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

A day across the western Droevinkan border, well inside Belaski, Chap barked as he saw a good-sized town ahead. Following Cameron's advice, they had kept due west without incident and only turned northwest after six days. It took longer to work their way into familiar territory.

They had all been surprised to find Belaskian cavalry patrolling the border-and then Chap realized he should have expected such with Droevinka in a state of civil war. But he and his companions passed through easily after answering a few questions about their destination.

Now, finally, they were nearing their home. If they maintained their direction along Belaski's inland roads, they could gain the coast soon enough, perhaps six or seven days in good weather.

He looked back at his companions, leading the old packhorse Wynn had named Aspen. Its coat was a mix of grays and browns, and Leesil had lashed the covered orb and Wynn's bundles of texts onto the animal.

Everyone was much improved physically, and Chap's relief grew by the day. Since leaving Droevinkan territory, they had been blessed by regular stays in villages and better food.

Wynn stumbled, eyes wide, and came running past him. "A town… an actual town!"

"Maybe we can buy horses," Magiere suggested. "And ride the rest of the way."

"Not for all the dead deities," Leesil grouched. "After all this, I'm not risking my neck on some half-mad bag of bones-not again."

"Fine, we'll buy a wagon," Magiere snapped back, "since horses frighten you so much."

Leesil scoffed. "You'd never part with that much coin… not before you got us thrown out of the town with your endless haggling and insults."

Magiere slowed, and her voice dropped to grating growl. "What did you say?"

Osha listened with startled interest, plainly baffled at this couple who never tired of their little battles.

Chap shook his head and scurried after Wynn.

Would Magiere never learn when Leesil was baiting her, or that making her angry gave him a thrill? But Leesil only prodded Magiere when he was happy-and he was happy to be going home. And Magiere only squabbled with him this way when she felt safe, for even a moment.

And they both believed they would stay within the Sea Lion Tavern, finally returning to the life they wanted.

Chap wanted to believe it as well.

But he could not-not since the wide cavern and chasm, when Magiere had mistakenly opened the orb. He had spent the passing days since watching over his shoulder.

They entered a bustling little town, and few townsfolk even looked their way. That in itself was another relief. People passed through the towns and cities of peaceful Belaski every day, and no one gave them much notice.

"I need to find a courier," Wynn said. "Or at least some place where the caravans stop. I want to send word to Domin Tilswith now, and not wait until we reach Miiska."

"Chap, go with her," Leesil said. "Meet us at that stable up the way. One of us will find an inn before you get back."

He grabbed Magiere's waist.

"Almost home," she said tiredly, and Leesil tucked his head in close to her.

Chap did not hear what was said, but Magiere turned a scowl on Leesil.

"Not until you've had a bath," she growled.

Leesil swatted her on the rump and took off before she snatched hold of him.

Wynn looked to Osha. He nodded to her, and she headed off.

Chap followed Wynn, wishing at heart that they could simply go home and stay there.

Magiere fell silent as she walked into Miiska.

She quickened her pace, not wanting to be seen by anyone they knew just yet, not until they reached the Sea Lion Tavern.

They'd arrived from the south, so the tavern was just ahead beyond the trees. All she wanted was to see her home. By the time she reached the sloping road's bottom, and stepped from the forest into the edge of town, Leesil had to jog to catch up with her. The others were left behind, but Chap bolted headlong around Magiere, racing toward the dockside of Miiska.

And then she saw it.

Leesil's hand-painted sign hung above the narrow door, and the whole place looked so much the same, as if she'd been away but a few days.

The Sea Lion-and Chap was turning in pinwheels by the time Magiere squeezed the latch and shoved the front door inward.

Everything inside still looked brand new, from the polished bar to the two-sided hearth in the common room's center. Rashed's sword hung above the hearth on the room's bar side, marking the tavern's rebirth from ashes. Beyond the bar's far end, narrow stairs climbed to the second floor and bedrooms.

Leesil pushed around Magiere, casting his hungry eyes over everything. At first he couldn't speak any more than could Magiere. Then he sighed as his gaze fixed on the corner beneath the front windows.

"My Faro table!" he whispered.

Chap squeezed between their legs and made a hurried circuit around the hearth.

"Caleb, you deaf old hog!"

Magiere's throat tightened. The loud, gruff woman's voice came from behind the kitchen's curtained doorway.

"How many damn times have I told you-don't put onions in the soup when Karlin is coming! You know he can't abide the taste!"

"I already put his serving aside," came an answering shout from up the stairs. "Leave me be, woman!"

A stout form in an old purple dress and stained apron burst through the whipping kitchen curtain. She turned, heading for the stairs like an irate captain hot after an errant soldier. But she halted halfway and turned quickly about. She almost dropped the long wooden spoon she wielded as shock washed away the ire on her round, wrinkled face.

"Aunt Bieja," Magiere whispered.

Bieja barreled along the bar and nearly cracked Magiere's ribs in a fierce embrace.

"My girl… my girl!"

Her aunt's hair smelled musky, and it took all Magiere's effort not to weep in overwhelming relief. Bieja had come, just as Leesil had insisted she would.

Magiere's aunt released her, and with tears on her gruff face, she spotted Leesil. Before he could duck, she grabbed him as well.

"Ow," he grunted. "Go easy! It's good to see you, too."

Bieja stepped back, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, as Chap snuck out between table and chair legs.