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to get off the road, then shoot—I don’t want you taking any chances, even if there isn’t much of a bandit problem around these parts in winter. Luckily you’re more heavily armed than anyone you could possibly meet except a Clan caravan.”
    “Right.” Brill nodded uncertainly. “You’re sure that strange contraption will work?”
    Miriam nodded. “Trust me.”
    Breakfast below consisted of two chipped wooden bowls of oatmeal porridge, salted, eaten in the kitchen under the watchful (if squinting) eyes of the publican’s wife—which made it harder for Miriam to palm her pills. She made a song and dance of reciting some kind of grace prayer over the bowls. Miriam waited patiently, moving her lips randomly—her mute and incomprehending condition explained by Brill, in her capacity as long-suffering daughter.
    Barely half an hour later, Miriam and Brill were on the road again, heading toward the coast, breath steaming in the frigid morning air. It was bitterly dry, like an icy desert. A heavy frost had fallen overnight, but not much snow. Miriam hunched beneath a heavy canvas knapsack that held her bicycle and extra supplies. Brill, too, bore a heavy bag, for Miriam had made two trips through to cache essential supplies before they began this trip. Although they’d come only two miles from Paulette’s house, they were centuries away in the most important way imaginable. Out here, even a minor injury such as a twisted ankle could be a disaster. But tiiey had certain advantages that normally only the Clan and its constituent families would have—from their modern hiking boots to the hefty automatic pistol Brill carried in a holster concealed beneath her Thinsulate-lined cloak.
    “This had better work.” Miriam’s teeth chattered slighly as she spoke. “I’m going to feel really stupid if it turns out that this locket doesn’t work here, either.”
    Brill said pragmatically, “My mother said you could tell if they’re dead. Have you looked at it since we came through?”
    “No.” Miriam fumbled in her pouch for it. It clicked open easily and she shut it at once. “Ick. It’ll work, alright, if I don’t spill my guts. It feels rougher than the other one.”
    Frozen leaf skeletons crunched beneath their boots. The post house was soon out of sight, the road empty and almost untraveled in winter. Bare trees thrust limbs out above them, bleak and barren in the harsh light of morning. “Are we out of sight, yet?” asked Miriam.
    “Yes.” Brill stopped walking. “Might as well get an early start.”
    Miriam paused beside her. She shuffled her feet. “Don’t wait long. If I don’t return within about five minutes, assume it means everything’s alright. Just keep walking and I’ll join you at the post house. If you hear anyone coming on the road, hide. If I’m late, wait over for one day then buy a horse or mule, head for Fort Lofstrom, and ask to be taken to Angbard. Clear?”
    “Clear.” For a moment Brill froze, then she leaned forward and embraced Miriam. “Sky Father protect you,” she whispered.
    “And you,” said Miriam, more surprised than anything else. Abruptly she hugged Brill back. “Take care.” Then she pulled away, pulled out the assassin’s locket, and stood in the middle of the road staring into its writhing depths.
    * * *
    It was twelve o’clock, and all the church bells in Boston were chiming noon.
    The strange woman received nothing more than covert glances as she walked along The Mall, eyes flickering to either side. True, she wore a heavy backpack—somewhat singular for a woman—and a most peculiar cap, and her dress was about as far from fashionable as it was possible to be without street urchins harassing her with accusations of vile popery; but she walked with an air of granite determination that boded ill for anyone who got in her way.
    Traffic was light but fast, and she seemed self-conscious as she looked both ways repeatedly before crossing the street. An open