Estral brought her socks, boots, and breeches. Karigan could not bend to pull on the socks, so Estral helped.

As for the breeches, Estral said, “I tried to wash these out best as I could. They were stained.”

With blood. They were still dark around the waist, but Estral had done a good job of washing them out.

“Thank you,” Karigan said. “That could not have been pleasant to do.”

Estral shook her head. “I burned what was left of your shirt. It was . . . very bad.”

Karigan could only imagine. She was glad it was gone and that she didn’t have to see it. Just thinking of it brought Nyssa’s leering face into her mind. She shuddered.

“It is cold outside,” Estral said. “Do you think you can bear your greatcoat over your shoulders?”

“I don’t know. Let’s try without first.”

Estral helped her stand, and she wavered.

“Do you need to sit back down?” Estral asked.

“Forward. Forward motion,” Karigan murmured.

“You aren’t going to faint on me, are you?”

“Keep moving.”

Lightheaded and with a fog filling her vision, she held on to Estral and exited the tent. The cold air was invigorating, and her vision resolved. She found Enver, Nari, and Midnight awaiting her by the fire. Condor neighed to her and would have, she knew, come running to her if he hadn’t been hobbled.

“Condor. Take me to Condor.”

Estral helped her. He was not too far away, but it felt like miles. When she reached him, she pressed her forehead against his neck. He stood still as if afraid any movement might break her.

“I’m all right, I’m all right,” she told him.

When she stepped back, he gave her a gentle whuff of air that stirred the one long strand of hair hanging in her face. She pushed it away and patted Condor’s nose. Then they returned to the fire.

“I need a knife,” she said.

“What for?” Estral asked.

Karigan held out her hand, and it was Enver who handed her his knife. The blade had a graceful, deadly curve to it, unornamented but for some characters in Eltish. The blade seemed to collect the light, as though it were white steel. She grabbed the long lock of hair and cut it off in one easy slash so that it was even with the rest. Just that simple movement pulled painfully at her back. She returned to Enver his knife, hilt first, even as the lock of hair drifted to the ground.

“Thank you,” she said.

They’d arranged seating out of logs and rocks. She dropped onto a log with a saddle blanket over it. Sweat glided down her temple and cheek. Curiously, her borrowed shirt kept her comfortable, but for the occasional chill breeze that snaked beneath her collar.

“It is good to see you up,” Enver said. “Would you have some broth now? It might help dispel any lightheadedness.”

Karigan consented to having broth brought to her. Her stomach still wasn’t sure about accepting much into it, but if it meant regaining her strength, she would try.

“Nari and I have spied the enemy searching,” Enver said, “but they are some distance away, and far off the trail. I made several false trails, but they haven’t even found those.”

Karigan nodded, sipping the broth slowly. Just sitting strained her back and the stab wound. She was tiring very quickly.

“Nighttime,” she said, “is when I go.” When her pronouncement was met with silence, she looked up from her broth to see the three exchanging glances. “What?”

“You can barely sit up,” Estral said. “The gods know I am anxious to get my father out of there, but I don’t want a rescue to fail because you are not well.”

Karigan gazed into the broth. To her surprise, she’d consumed almost the whole mugful. Rationally, she knew Estral was right. She was weak. Using her ability to slip into the encampment would be a drain on her energy she’d be unable to sustain.

“I know,” she said finally, though it pained her to admit it aloud, “but I don’t dare leave the king there, or Lord Fiori, and I certainly don’t dare await Captain Treman.”

“We understand this,” Enver said. “Perhaps we will not go this night, but tomorrow night may be another story, yes? If you continue to eat and drink, and accept my ministrations, we may be able to do what is necessary.”

“There is no ‘may,’” she said. “There is no other choice.” If she weren’t half falling off her seat, she’d go right then.

“We have not been idle during your rest,” Enver said. “All will be ready when it is time.”

When exhaustion claimed her, Enver helped her back to the tent. She nearly collapsed onto her bedding, wondering how in the hells she was ever going to be of any use in a rescue attempt.

“May I suggest,” Enver said, “that putting yourself into a state of tranquility would promote healing and energy? You can focus with your breathing.”

This sounded suspiciously like listening to the voice of the world again, but she followed his instructions to clear her mind, breathe deeply, and imagine herself in the green depths of a summer forest. And promptly fell asleep.

THE DOMAIN OF GRANDMOTHER

Karigan spent the next day resting, eating the little bits of food Enver offered, and drinking his herbal concoctions. He also slathered her wounds with salves and wrapped her in bandages against the coming exertions of the planned rescue attempt. Her fever remained low, if not broken, and she felt better than she had in days. That was not to say she was herself yet.