Teligmar! Now the small mountains Estora had seen made sense, and she finally had an idea of where she was. As for who Karigan expected to see? She did not explain.

“Naturally I was suspicious of the note,” Karigan said, “so I made certain Fergal and I arrived well before dawn. We scouted the area out, and expecting possible trouble, we established this as our hiding spot. We then returned to the crossroads on foot and hid ourselves and waited. The rest you know.” She paused, deep in thought. “I’ve no idea what game is being played, or what part Lord Mirwell has in it, but it is clear to me Mirwellton is no safe haven for you. We will have to find refuge for you elsewhere.”

Karigan hardly finished her sentence when Condor whickered, followed by the sound of rocks clacking outside. Karigan leaped to her feet, sword bared, and faced the cave entrance.

Estora rose, not sure what to do. Was this Sarge or one of his men coming to reclaim her? Had they been found already? She wilted back to her rock in relief when a young man in a green uniform appeared in the entrance. He leaned against the rock wall breathing hard, his hair tousled. Estora relaxed even more when Karigan sheathed her saber.

“Where have you been?” Karigan demanded, looking simultaneously aggrieved and happy to see him.

The young man, who could be none other than Fergal, entered the cave and found a rock of his own to sit on. “Up a tree,” he said. “Hiding.”

“Were you followed?”

Fergal shook his head. He looked dazed, and to Estora’s mind, much too young to be doing such dangerous work. “I made sure,” he said. “No one followed.” Then he looked at his hands. “I–I killed that man.”

Estora’s heart went out to him. No wonder he looked dazed. Lost even.

“I know,” Karigan said. “I saw him fall. You did well, Fergal. You helped Lady Estora get free of those men.”

He looked up, as if noticing Estora for the first time. He started to rise from his rock. “M–my lady—”

“Sit, Rider,” she said. And she herself rose and took his young hands into hers and said, “Thank you. Thank you for your help.”

Karigan cleared her throat. “Fergal Duff, meet your future queen.”

Fergal’s mouth dropped open and he tried to stammer something, but Estora simply smiled and gave his hands a squeeze, and returned to her seat. Only then did Karigan sit again herself.

“What happened,” Karigan asked, “after you killed the man?”

Fergal swallowed hard. “I caught his horse and tied it to a tree so it wouldn’t run off and alert the others. Like you told me.

“And then,” he said, “I got my knife out…out of the body.” He squeezed his hands into fists. “I was going to hurry back, but as I was starting to make my way, more men joined the two at the crossroads. They talked a bit, and one of them called for the man I killed. I tried to get out of there, really I did, but when they realized something was wrong, they were all over the place. There wasn’t anywhere to hide, except in a tree. No one thinks to look up. Once they found the dead man, they searched all around, and I snuck away.”

“How many men?” Karigan asked.

Fergal scratched his head. “Maybe ten all told, but they sent one for reinforcements to help with the search.”

Karigan’s face turned grim, but her words were soft. “Well done, Fergal, well done.”

“What are we to do?” Estora asked.

“Rest for a while,” Karigan said. “Rest and think.”

Karigan and Fergal gathered together some of their food supplies for a belated breakfast and for Estora it was nearly a feast even though Karigan would not light a fire, fearing their foes would easily spy the smoke. Afterward, Estora washed her face in the icy spring. She shivered, but was exultant to wash away days of grime.

She finished feeling renewed, but weary, and found Fergal curled up in a bedroll, snoring softly. Another was spread out nearby.

“You may use my bedroll to rest,” Karigan said.

“What about you?”

“I’m going to keep watch. I’ll wake Fergal when I’m ready for a nap.”

Estora nodded and made herself as comfortable as she could among the rocks. She struggled to fall asleep for a time, but when finally the warmth of the cocooning blankets and her sense of safety lulled her to the edge of sleep, the last thing she saw was Karigan sitting in the cave entrance cross-legged with saber bare across her lap, the sun gilding the crown of her brown hair with gold.

Estora was dreaming of sailing on the bay in her father’s sloop on a warm summer’s eve, the lowering sun sparking off the crests of waves and absorbing the silhouettes of other vessels into the golden dazzle when the rocking motion of the sloop turned into someone shaking her awake.

“My lady,” Karigan said, “I have a plan.”

Estora sat up, groggy and disoriented, wondering what Karigan was doing on her father’s sloop, then saw the rock walls and remembered. She pushed her hair away from her face and found Fergal wrapped in his blankets and looking as sleepy as she felt. Karigan had not made him take his turn at watch after all. She sat on a rock before them, looking tired, but fully aware. Behind her, the cave entrance had darkened with the change in the sun’s slant. Afternoon. How late, Estora did not know.

“There are several men out in the woods,” Karigan said.

“You went out there?” Fergal asked in incredulity.