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end of whatever spell Jariko had cast.
    “I’m sorry,” Rina said. “I know you’re hurt, but we’ve got to go. I don’t know where we are, and I don’t know how many other soldiers might arrive at any second. I don’t know anything. Can you tell me which way to go?”
    Hark lifted a hand. It shook. He pointed west and a little north. “Your h-horse. And y-your arm-muh-mor.”
    “Okay. Don’t talk anymore. I’m going to put you on your horse. It might hurt. Sorry.”
    Hark nodded, head shaky. It wasn’t completely clear if he understood what was happening.
    Rina gathered him up, his stout form draped over one of her shoulders, and stood. Even with the bull strength, the fully armored bishop was no easy burden. She took him to a hidden horse and tossed him over the saddle. He grunted but seemed otherwise unhurt.
    We’ve got to go. We need to move fast before more soldiers come .
    She took the horse’s reins and headed out in the direction Hark had indicated.
    Rina remembered she was still tapped into the spirit. Having undergone incredible torments to touch the spirit again, she was reluctant to let it go, but she knew the dangers of hanging on too long. She could drain herself, burn herself out. Her spirit well was deep but not inexhaustible.
    She released her hold on the spirit.
    Immediately she fell to her knees, going dizzy and sick, every muscle in her body aching. Obviously the only thing that had let her function was being tapped into the spirit. She was wiped out. Hours—days?—of slumping paralyzed in the back of a Perranese cart had taken their toll. Her muscles and joints were stiff. Impossibly, she was alive, but she wouldn’t stay that way if she couldn’t summon the will to move.
    She willed herself to her feet, legs quivering, sweat breaking out on her forehead and under her arms. She breathed in through her nose, exhaled raggedly out of her mouth. She closed her eyes tight, waited for the dizziness to pass, then opened them again.
    A cry rose from deep in the forest behind her. The distant clank of armor and rustle of men gathering and coming through the wood.
    Move, you stupid girl. Get out of here .
    Rina tugged at the reins and headed west, each halting step a stab of pain in her limbs. She forced herself to move quickly in spite of the pain, weaving between the trees, putting one foot in front of the other with dogged determination. A minute later, she was no less panicked. Five minutes later, and she started to feel she’d put some safe distance between her and the Perranese.
    Ten minutes later she’d found her horse with her weapons and armor. She felt almost whole again once she donned the armor and strapped on her weapons. A general sort of fatigue weighed her down, but the awareness she’d escaped a very close call buoyed her up again. She was damn lucky to be alive. It was a lesson, really. No matter how powerful she felt, no matter what kind of strength the tattoos gave her, there were no guarantees. Anything could happen. At any time.
    She went to Hark still draped over the horse.
    “Bishop Hark,” she said. “I think we’re in the clear, but we’d better keep moving. They could catch up to us easily.”
    No response.
    “Bishop Hark.” She felt his neck.
    He lay pale and motionless.

CHAPTER FIVE
    “Edgar who?” Brasley asked.
    “One of the hired toughs we brought along to guard our backs,” Talbun said. “He made it this far. We were ambushed at the last.”
    Olgen, Talbun, and Brasley stared down at the corpse.
    “Ambushed?” Brasley frowned. “This place is abandoned, isn’t it?” His eyes darted from Olgen to Talbun and back again. “Are you saying the Great Library is not an abandoned ruin?”
    Olgen cleared his throat. “Well, no. I mean, that is to say, there is dispute among the scholars about whether or not there remain living inhabitants in the depths of the Great Library, but those theories are not necessarily pertinent here. The far more likely