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smile broadening.
    I sighed, then tied the skirt up as best I could. “Ready.”
    Devlaen led the way down a short tunnel to what smelled like
a stable annex—the clean smell of fresh hay mixed with horse. Again, childhood
memories hit me straight in the heart.
    Elva glanced at my head, then shrugged. I didn’t have to
look down to see that my braids were fuzzier than ever. Apparently many braids
were exotic but acceptable here too, even scruffy braids, for she did not
speak, only beckoned for me to follow.
    The sun was just about to set when we rode out, Devlaen
trying to arrange his bulky pack of books on the back of a skittish young mare,
Elva watching in all directions. Zathdar seemed content to glance around once,
but I remembered that comment about search perimeters. It surprised me that
pirates, or rather privateers, talked about search perimeters. I thought their
action was confined to water, which you didn’t have to search, since there were
no convenient mountains, trees, or castles to hide behind.
    No , I thought,
watching the fringes on his bandana swing gently with the even pace of his
horse. Don’t get paranoid because the guy
is competent. Competent is good when it saves your sorry butt. Besides,
privateers had to train somewhere, and maybe it was as easy on land as at sea.
One thing for sure, he was ready for action. He carried a cavalry sword across
his back and the rapier in a saddle sheath.
    Elva wore her weapon, which whapped against her leg at every
step of her mount. Devlaen seemed to be entirely occupied with his bag of
books, and while I had my gear bag clutched to me, it didn’t contain any
weaponry.
    We emerged from the hillside opening into spring-green
leafing trees, similar to beech, and I was stunned by the purity of the color.
In L.A. you did not breathe such champagne air, or see such color, unless it
has rained for a couple of days—something that happens rarely enough in
Southern California that it’s always a headline news item.
    In the distance, on the opposite side of the river valley, a
hamlet lay charmingly terraced up the sides of the rocky canyon. Some of the
single-story houses were whitewashed, some colored a warm shade, like
honey-butter. No people in sight. Bad sign? Good sign?
    “Where to?” Zathdar asked Devlaen and Elva.
    Devli opened his mouth, then looked confused. “I guess
Cousin Nad’s is out.”
    “Away,” Elva said shortly, and pushed her mount ahead of us
all, so that she was in the lead.
    “My flagship is anchored right here at the mouth of the
river.” Zathdar pointed downward in one direction. We were as yet too high to
see the river.
    “We need to get away.” Elva sounded a little desperate. It
was clear she had no ideas, either, except that she didn’t like his.
    We rode single file, as the path was narrow, bendy, and the
shrubs and trees grew close. I grimaced down at my mount’s bony neck, and
busied my fingers with untangling the coarse mane hair. Smells, sights, even
sounds bombarded me, bringing up memories I thought I’d forgotten. I didn’t
know which hurt worse, the happy ones or the bad ones.
    Zathdar had fallen behind me, going last. When I turned in
my saddle, I found him studying me. “So what can you tell us from your own
perspective?” he asked, voice lifted so the others could hear. “A summary will
do. We know you were small when you left this world.”
    His slightly tilted head, the faint sympathetic smile, made
me aware that I’d tightened up from neck to knees. “Right.” I tried for an easy
tone. It was a perfectly legit question. “What I remember is King Canary. Uh,
that’s a joke we came up with, me and my mom, though he hardly looks like any
small yellow bird. Do any of you know him by sight?”
    “No,” Elva said from the front. She frowned back at us
frequently.
    Devlaen grimaced. “From a distance. In parades.”
    Zathdar just gestured, his palm turned up, which I
interpreted as an invitation to go