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master. I walked for two days before sleeping in that ravine. Before the beasts . . .” She stopped suddenly, her eyes flooding.
    “That’s enough.” Galen stood and helped her up. “You must sleep. Tomorrow we take you home.” He helped her over to the blankets, talking quietly.
    Raffi washed the pan. The Sekoi watched him. Then it wrapped the rest of the fruit up and said suddenly, “Raffi. What is going on?”
    “Going on? What do you mean?”
    It was silent so long he turned and stared at it. It looked troubled. Finally it said, “For a long time, as you know, I thought Carys was not to be trusted. After our adventure with the Coronet I found to my shame that I was wrong. I would hate to go back to those suspicions.”
    Raffi dropped the pan. “Why should you?”
    “Carys is skilled at evading pursuit,” the Sekoi said quietly.
    “No one better.”
    “Indeed.” The creature leaned back against the stump, folding its arms. “No one better. At running, hiding, not being taken by surprise. So why do I feel so strongly that she let them capture her ?”
    A spark stung Raffi’s hand, but he barely felt it. “What?” he whispered.

5
    In his castle, Halen dreamed.
He walked the silent corridors and in the
mirrors saw only his own face.
Outside, the world descended into
Chaos. “Something evil is searching for
me,” he whispered.
     
    Book of the Seven Moons
    T HEY WERE TREATING HER LIKE an honored guest, Carys thought wryly.
    The straw was almost clean and the drinking water had only two dead spiders in it. The plate that had been banged in through the grille of the door had bread and cheese on it, and there had even been a flea-ridden blanket in one corner of the cell to make a softer bed. Scratching the bites it had given her, her whole body stiff with the damp and the hard stones, she rolled over and sat up against the wall, pulling her jerkin on and pushing the sleep-tangled hair from her eyes. But she’d slept surprisingly well.
    By the noise outside and the shaft of sunlight that slanted down the narrow embrasure of the window, it was early morning. All the work of the castle was well under way; wagons crunching by outside, the trudge of weary feet. She grinned. Maybe she wouldn’t have to work after all. Pulling the plate over, she began to eat hungrily, glancing around. The cell was big. A few rusty chains hung from one wall. In the wand of light from the window she could see scratches on the damp stones; names, verses, dates laboriously crossed off. They might be worth a look later.
    The cheese was strong, almost going bad, but she was glad of it. When she’d finished the last strip of bread, she fished the spiders out of the water and drank, then soaked the end of her sleeve and washed her face. Until she stopped, listening. There was a lot of noise outside; hammering, voices and yells, the clatter of wheels and marset hooves, but close by, insistent, there was something else. It was tiny, and it was inside the cell.
    Tapping. An urgent, quiet tapping. After a second, she knew where it was coming from. The wall facing her was of stone, rough-edged, the ancient mortar black and crumbling. Faint wet smudges of green algae glistened on its hacked facets. The tapping came from the other side; as she crawled closer she saw a tiny crack deep in the corner.
    Picking up a piece of loose stone she tapped back. There was silence. Then a whisper, hoarse and eager. “I thought you’d never hear me.”
    She groaned to herself. Of course, it was the spotty boy; she’d seen them put him in the cell last night. Still, there was something she wanted to know from him.
    “Have they fed you?” he whispered.
    “Never mind that.” She put her face close to the crack. “How did you know they were bringing us here? Out on the road, when you said the castle?” She could almost feel him grin.
    “My secret. But like I said, get ready. It’s all fixed, and when we break out, believe me, it’ll be