The river emerged from its confinement just before it left the city, and Kite hauled herself, bedraggled, onto stone steps beside a bridge. She hadn’t had a chance to look at the city until now. The moon was half full, and its light shone on tall buildings crammed close together, each row taller than the one behind, reaching up to the castle which stood above them all, on the brow of the hill. It was oddly attractive, but Kite was only interested in the castle. Vorannen had wanted Saryth, not her. Vorannen had a special project for his collection of mages. The only mages left, Harvis had told her, were the ones working for him. They would be in his castle. At least it’s easy to find. She stood up, bracing herself on the bridge, and set off to climb the hill.

By the time she reached the lower walls of the castle, she was weary, cold and in pain, but mostly dry. The castle was well-manned and guarded. Kite circled the walls, staying one street away from the watchful guards, until she found the rear entrance and, more importantly, the tavern she had expected. She didn’t want to use magic this close to Vorannen, but Rathnacarrick was a well-maintained city and there weren’t any convenient unguarded fires around. She huddled down in the shadows next to the tavern wall, and concentrated. It took her twenty minutes to rouse the banked flame in the tavern’s fireplace, but the results were worth it.

“FIRE!” The shout went up from the guards by the back gate, and Kite watched from a convenient alley as a horde of soldiers flooded out from the gates and milled around the tavern. Judging from their uniform, or lack of it, quite a few of them weren’t even on watch duty.

“The inn -!”

“Get buckets!”

The local inhabitants were coming out as well, making everything that much more crowded and confusing. Kite dodged the crowds and slipped through the back gate to a wide road which led around in a spiral up to the castle’s inner walls. Barracks lined the way, and a peek through the windows confirmed they were empty. They must have all gone to the fire. She tried the doors until she found one left unlocked, and helped herself to a uniform, luxuriating in the warmth and protection it offered. She even found a dagger carelessly left on a bed. She deliberated for a second, but it was no real choice. She gathered her hair behind her with one hand and sawed through it with the other, tucking the ragged ends under the uniform hat, remembering to slide in her hairpin. The cut hair she left on the bed, wondering what the soldier whose bed it was would make of it when he returned. Then she grabbed a spear from the rack by the door and limped out, trusting to the uniform, the uncertain light and the general chaos to protect her from suspicion.

The soldiers running out to help save their favourite tavern did not ask permission, but the general chaos did not go unnoticed by their superior officers, and by one in particular. General Vorannen was awake despite the early hour and that meant his aide was awake too, even if in name only. But he jumped briskly to attention when summoned, shaking off his sleepiness as he pushed open the door to the General’s study.

“My lord? Um, General?”

“What’s all the racket about?”

“Ah - the Guards’ favourite tavern caught fire, so they’re all helping to put it out.”

“It caught fire, did it?” The General looked thoughtful. “What time is it?”

“Fourth hour of the morning, sir.”

“Fiona has not reported in, has she?”

“Uh, no, my - General. Should -”

“Lock the keep and mobilise the Guards to search it,” Vorannen ordered. “They’re looking for a blonde woman. Send a guard to the Mage Tower’s back door, and check the front as well.”

“Sir!” The aide didn’t understand, but he didn’t need to. The General was always precise with his orders.

The lower areas of the castle were full of soldiers pushing this way and that, yelling, cursing and generally disarrayed. Nobody paid attention to one wounded soldier who was looking rather lost. Kite fought her way through the throng until she could stop and catch her breath in a deserted hallway. Behind her a coarse voice lifted over the hubbub, shouting commands.

“Matyas! Get to the Mage Tower back door. General wants a guard on it!”

“But - yes sir!” The soldier’s grumbling came clearly to Kite’s ears. “Best inn in all Rathnacarrick...” He’s coming closer! Kite whirled, stumbled, made for the stairs at the other end of the hallway, heart pounding. Behind her the soldier entered the hallway and stopped. “Huh?” Her heart froze, but he called back, “Sir! Someone’s already gone!”

“Then get back here! The best inn in Rathnacarrick is burning!”

Kite limped on up the stairs, marvelling at her luck so far. At the top of the stairs was a door, locked but unguarded and lit by one dim lamp. She fumbled her faithful hairpin from the ragged ends of her hair and bent to the lock.

It was the distant noise that woke Saryth, even before he heard the guards at the door. He had not slept well since coming to the castle, regardless of how tired he was. The general hubbub invaded his dreams, filling them with mobs and angry people. It made for an uncomfortable waking, and for a moment he just lay staring at the ceiling, the dim quiet a reassurance of sorts. Then he heard the panting exclamation from the other side of the door.

“Sergeant!” It was the voice of the General’s aide, sounding breathless and worried. What’s got him so upset?

“What?”

“General sent me - to check - are the mages - all right?”

“What? What’s going to happen to them?”

The door creaked as the guard opened it and stuck his head inside. Saryth feigned sleep, but the guard just cast a disinterested glance around the room then shut the door again.

“Yup, they look fine to me. All sleeping like babies.”

“Good... good. Thanks!” Hurrying feet marked the aide’s departure.

“Wouldn’t want his job,” said one of the remaining guards.

“Nuh - uh.”

The room was quiet again, until Hasian sat up in the bed next to Saryth, blinking in the pale moonlight coming through the window.

“Are you awake?” He knew Saryth would be.

“Mm,” Saryth said, sitting up. “What’s going on out there?”

“I don’t know, but they’re making a lot of noise.”

“Shut up!” Corit said from the other side of Hasian. “Some of us are trying to sleep!”

And then the door at the other side of the room opened, and another familiar voice called out. “You with the white hair!” Saryth turned, heart leaping, unable to stop himself grinning. “Come here! General wants a mage.” He slipped his boots on, grabbed a cloak and hurried past Hasian’s yawned well-wishes and out of the door.

There was no time to say anything. Kite hurried back down the stairs, Saryth on her heels, her injured leg throbbing with each footfall. She pulled up abruptly at the sound of voices below.

“Baltin, Andros, check the back door!”

Kite turned to the side door in the staircase and got to work with her lockpick. “In here!” The door opened onto a gallery overlooking a large empty hall. Windows arched above them, the first light of the morning filtering through to reveal dusty floorboards and a few dead spiders. Kite pulled the door shut, hoping nobody would check it, and gingerly lowered herself to the floor, biting back a grunt at the pain in her leg. Saryth crouched beside her, looking concerned.

“Are you all right? You were limping.”

“I’ll be fine. We have to get out of here. Any ideas?”

“Well, actually - yes.” He sat up a bit straighter and stared at the window.

“What are you planning?”

“Something I’ve been thinking of over the past few weeks.” He put one leg onto the broad windowsill and hoisted himself up.

“Does it involve magic?” Kite asked, levering herself to her feet with a glance at the still-empty hall.

“Only a little. I’m sure Vorannen knows about all this by now anyway. But,” he looked away, troubled, “I promised Vorannen I wouldn’t escape.”

“Only as long as I was kept safe,” Kite said, managing to haul herself onto the windowsill next to him. The spear fell to the floorboards, and she let it lie.

He gave her a dubious look. “I’m sure that’s cheating, somehow.”

“Let’s get this window open.”

For all that the gallery appeared seldom-used and uncared-for, the window handle turned smoothly and silently, much as the door lock had been well-oiled. Saryth lowered himself from the window to the narrow balcony outside, then moved aside so Kite could also get out. She wobbled as she landed, her good leg protesting the extra effort she was asking of it, and she grabbed the wall for support.

The view from the balcony was astonishing. The castle was at the top of the hill, with the city of Rathnacarrick tumbling down from its lower walls to the south and west, but on the north-eastern side there was no city because there was no land, just sheer cliffs leading down to a large, fast river. A managed forest lay on the other side of the river, small villages and towns visible further away, their fields showing as gaps in the tree cover. The promise of the dawn cast the landscape in an eerie, silvery light. Kite pulled off her hat, which had become itchy, and Saryth gasped in shock.

“You cut your hair!”

“For the hat,” she said, feeling defensive. “It’ll grow back.”

“At least you left the side bits. So you can still braid it.” Kite felt her face heat, and scowled, but Saryth was turning away, stepping out to the edge of the balcony and staring at the sky. Kite could feel the magic begin to gather, but not what he was doing with it. She held back, unwilling to go near the edge on her bad leg.

“Saryth, what is your plan?”

“Don’t worry. They’re coming.” He held up his arms in what looked like an attitude of praise. A sudden flurry of birds swooped down and around him, and his cloak blew out behind. For an instant, silhouetted against the silver sky, he looked like he had wings.

“What?” Kite felt off balance, unnerved by his confidence.

“Them,” Saryth said, nodding at the sky where more birds were gathering. “Hold your arms out!”

“What?” But Kite could see what he meant now. Among the whirl of smaller birds two enormous shadows were coming into view. She’d never seen such large birds before. This is his plan?!

“They have a huge wingspan,” Saryth said with a grin, looking back at her. “I’ve been watching them every day. They’ll take us!”

Kite stared at him, nonplussed. In all her ideas, large birds had never crossed her mind. But - this is a better situation than the last time we escaped Vorannen. The thought made her laugh, banished her tension. She stepped up to stand next to him, trying not to look down as two small birds whisked past her legs and a seagull screamed from above. “So what’s with the tiny army?”

“I just called for birds,” Saryth admitted. “I didn’t think to specify.”

Then there was no more time for talking, no time for fear. The shadows of the enormous birds fell over them, and Kite held her arms up and shut her eyes. The talons closed around her arms, and a split second later she was jerked off her feet, her shoulders protesting the sudden violent strain and her stomach lurching with the laboured flight of the great bird. The talons gripped her arms painfully tight, but the alternative would be worse; she gritted her teeth and endured. She opened one eye then shut it again hurriedly at the sight of the river so far below.

It was a short flight, it had to be, almost more a controlled fall. The birds were large, but carrying an adult human was not within their capacity. Kite opened her eyes again as her bird dipped close to the treetops, then gasped in horror as the talons released their grip. Free of her weight, the bird shot upwards; shorn of its wings she plunged down, hitting the water hard enough that it hurt, something else to add to her cut leg and strained shoulders. Later. She splashed and spluttered to the surface and started for the bank and the welcoming trees, too weary to fight the current that was pulling them down back towards the city.

Kite was the first to reach the bank, but hauling herself out over the tangled tree roots was beyond her. Saryth splashed past her and managed to get himself out then held his hand out to her. Her shoulders protested, but with his help she made it. Soggy, dripping, dishevelled and exultant, they grinned at each other.

“Sorry,” Saryth said. “That was a bit high for the drop.”

“Never mind. Let’s get out of here.” Kite braced herself on a tree, testing her leg, and winced. It wasn’t going to bear her weight at all.

“Where are we going?” Saryth asked, coming to lend his shoulder. She leaned on him and he put one arm around her, helping her limp slowly away from the river, into the trees.

“Away from the bank for a bit.” They were still too close to the city, but did it matter as long as they were out of sight? “Here will do.” She sat down in the mud and drew the circle right there, the simplest she could make, scratched into the dirt. “Use this.”

“Won’t Vorannen see it?”

“It doesn’t matter if he does. This bears the direction, nothing else. You need to make the gate.”

“Right. Oh, where are we going?”

“My home,” Kite said, then as she heard the sounds of horses coming through the trees, “hurry up!”

By the time the troop arrived, there were no fugitives to find, and after the soldiers had gone, the only imprints left in the mud were those of the horses’ hooves.