Estora, who was so accustomed to servants seeing to her every need, now felt guilty as she had not before that she wasn’t helping, but Karigan and Fergal appeared to have a routine worked out and she did not wish to disrupt it. Of late, she was discovering just how very useless she was.

When they finished, Karigan planted her hands on her hips and gazed steadily at Estora and Fergal.

“Fergal,” she said, “avoid towns as much as possible. Use the waystations.” She handed him the message satchel. “Maps are inside if you need them, as well as the messages we’ve collected. Your job is to return them to the king, but your most important duty is to return Lady Estora to him safely. Do you understand?”

Fergal reached out to receive the satchel with some hesitance. “Aye. I do. What about you?”

“I’ll make my way back to Sacor City as best I can,” she replied. “Don’t worry about me. Just worry about Lady Estora. Get her home safe and sound. As of today, you’re no longer a trainee. Do you understand, Fergal? You’re a true Green Rider, and I know you can do this.”

Fergal nodded, looking daunted by the task. Estora would have preferred Karigan to ride with them, but she would not be gainsaid.

Karigan then said to Estora, “Don’t draw that sword until Fergal shows you how to handle it.” She smiled. “It was F’ryan’s, you know.”

Estora’s voice caught in her throat. “I know.”

Karigan nodded, lifted her skirts, and walked over to Condor. She spoke words to him no one else could hear, and kissed his nose. Was it Estora’s imagination, or did the gelding look glum?

“I told him to take you home,” Karigan said to Estora. “And he will. Trust him. Now, as for Falan…” She turned to the mare, gazing at the sidesaddle rig with trepidation. “It’s been a while since I’ve sat a sidesaddle…” She stepped up on a rock to mount.

“Wait,” Fergal said.

Karigan turned, and the young man removed a knife from each boot. He offered them to her, hilts first. She gazed down at him with a startled expression.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “I haven’t practiced of late…”

He nodded. “Aye. Take ’em.”

“Well, then,” she said, “those villains will get a surprise if they come too close.”

“They’d have to be real close,” Fergal said.

The Riders laughed at some joke Estora was excluded from, then Karigan mounted, tangling the skirts of the habit in the process.

“Um…” she said.

Estora helped straighten everything out, but Karigan couldn’t quite get the seat right.

“Don’t sit to the side,” Estora instructed her. “Sit atop. You will be secure.”

“Then why do I feel like I’m going to slide off?” She reined Falan around, looking wobbly.

“Hold the balance strap if you need to,” Estora said.

“This is unsettling,” Karigan muttered, switching the double reins to her left hand and grabbing the balance strap with her right. “I can’t ride the whole time like this.”

“You’ll do fine,” Estora said, but it came out sounding more like a question.

“Such confidence.” To Fergal, Karigan said, “Give me a little time to get the attention of those searchers. After that, you will have to gauge when it’s best to leave the cave and make your escape. Don’t wait too long, though.”

He nodded once and looked at his feet.

“Godspeed,” Karigan said, and she clucked Falan toward the cave entrance, letting out a little “whoops!” when the mare lurched forward and unsettled her center of balance.

“Godspeed,” Estora whispered.

They watched her guide Falan away from the cave and down into the woods, which soon absorbed her. They waited minute after minute, until the waiting became unbearable. Then a sharp “Yoo hoo!” rang out in the forest, followed by the shouts of men.

“There she is!” one cried.

Estora bit her bottom lip, hoping her brave, foolish friend would be all right.

“I don’t think she’ll make it,” Fergal said suddenly, countering her thoughts.

Estora started at his pronouncement. “What are you saying?”

“I–I saw death around her.”

“What?”

“When…when my ability came. When we were in Mirwellton. I saw darkness around her, and wings. I’m sure it meant death.”

Estora felt herself blanche. “Why on Earth didn’t you say anything?”

Fergal gazed up at her looking haunted and very young. “It wouldn’t have changed her mind. She’d have gone anyway.”

Truer words could not have been spoken, and Estora trembled at the thought of never seeing her friend again. Oh, Karigan, why do you do these things?

“We’d best mount, my…my Rider,” Fergal said. He’d been ordered not to refer to her as Lady Estora in public, but as Rider Esther if any name must be given—close enough to Estora to remember, different enough to not attract attention. “We’d best make use of the time she’s trying to gain us.”

He was right, and Estora did as he instructed, struggling to mount without a gentlemanly hand to assist her. The tears blurring her vision didn’t help matters. She apologized to Condor as she finally swung gracelessly into the saddle. Getting the saber tangled between her legs did not help. Like sidesaddle for Karigan, riding astride was going to be a trial for Estora. She was going to be very sore, and very humbled, by day’s end.