“No,” Órlaith said, stepping back. Her foot crunched on something, and her stomach lurched horribly before she glanced down and realised it was only wood. “No, I'm not – I don't know what –“ She tried to hold on to what she had always been taught. Don't tell them what you are, don't admit to anything. No matter what.

The man laughed, and took a step closer to her. “Oh, I think you are.” Órlaith couldn't tell if his tone was menace or glee. Or both. “I think that's exactly what you are. After all, why else would you protect that boy? Normal people understand our work. But you – your sort likes to protect their own.” He gestured to the wreckage of the caravan around them. “Even if it drags innocent people into your mess.”

“You did this,” Órlaith whispered, her voice shaking. “You – they're my family, why would you–“

“They did have something to do with you, then,” the man said, folding his arms in apparent satisfaction. “We weren't certain, I'll admit. But they put up enough of a fuss when we wanted to search the place that we knew there was something strange.”

They hadn't even known. Órlaith shook. They hadn't even been certain of what the caravan was, that it had anything to do with Órlaith. And yet, despite that, they'd burned it. They'd murdered – Órlaith couldn't even think it. Couldn't bring herself to comprehend what he was saying. Some part of her knew that if she thought about it too long, it would overwhelm her. And she didn't know what would happen then, but she knew it wouldn't be pretty. Already, her magic tingled at her fingers. It wanted something – and Órlaith knew exactly what. But she couldn't. Right now, the magehunters had no proof. No proof of what she was. It wasn't much protection, but it was some. Even if they hadn't even bothered to check before killing –

“Of course,” the man continued, “we searched the place afterwards. Once we took care of the people, and before the fire took care of what was left. Interesting, that a caravan like this would have so much dye. Red dye, to be more precise.” He tilted his head towards Órlaith. “Dye exactly the colour of your hair, in fact.”

Órlaith took another step back, almost stumbling over her own feet. It was hopeless, she knew it. She was fast, but she wouldn't be fast enough to escape the magehunters. Not when she knew there were at least two more of them, maybe more. Not when she had nowhere to hide. Not with the caravan gone.

The man followed her, his prowling stride lazy. He was smirking. He knew who had the power here, and it wasn't Órlaith.

“Come, now,” he said. “It's not so bad, being somebody's pet mage. We look after our merchandise. Especially if you cooperate. Get all kinds of privileges then. Mess us around, on the other hand…” His face twisted into a vicious grin. “Well, we keep our mages in line. No matter what –“

He was cut off mid sentence by a rock thudding into the side of his head. He staggered, nearly falling. He touched the side of his head, and his hand came away wet with blood.

“What –“

Another, bigger rock hit him. This time, Órlaith heard a horrible crack, and the man staggered, fell.

Run, Órlaith told herself. Run, now, whilst he’s stunned. But she couldn't get her legs to move. The wreckage of the caravan, the threat of the magehunters, it was all too much. What was the point, when she had nowhere to hide?

“Órlaith,” a familiar voice hissed. Órlaith's eyes widened, and she looked towards where she’d heard the voice.

A flash of white hair, further towards the town. Leolin.

That was all she needed. Órlaith broke into a run, nearly falling a few times, but managing to catch herself. Leolin caught her arm as soon as she was in reach, and dragged her along behind him. Órlaith was too dazed to really follow where they were going, though she knew that they'd gone back into the town. Hopefully they weren't too conspicuous, Leolin's hair exposed and both of them sprinting through the town so early in the morning. It wasn't until they got to the overgrown path that she realised where Leolin was taking them. She watched, detached, as the plants moved aside for him with a gesture. He’d picked up on that quickly for somebody who had been so awed when he'd first seen her do it.

It wasn't until he took them both deep into the forest, further than they had gone before, that she realised he was talking to her. At first she didn't process much, just a litany of apologies and curses. But eventually, once they had sat together for a few minutes, Órlaith came back to herself enough to listen.

“My family,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “My family, all of them, they’re -” She broke off, shaking her head. Leolin closed his eyes.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “Órlaith, I'm so sorry. If I had never come here, if I had never run into you -”

“No,” she said. “No.” Órlaith took a slow, shallow breath. “It's – it's not your fault. It's their fault. The magehunters. And it's their fault we’re here now, and their fault we have nowhere to go.” Then she buried her head in our hands, unable to hold back the sobbing anymore.

She cried for a long time, or at least it felt like she did. Leolin sat quietly beside her, not seeming sure what to do. Órlaith didn't care – she had never been one to be hugged when she cried, not unless it was her mother. And her mother could never again – that thought set off a fresh wave of sobbing.

Eventually, it ended. Nobody could cry forever. The tears dried up slowly; Órlaith's head throbbed, and her nose was blocked. Her eyes burned, feeling five sizes bigger than they had. But she didn't seem to have any tears left. Not any more.

“I'm sorry,” Leolin said again, once the forest was silent except for Órlaith's ragged breathing. He didn't seem to know what else to say.

She didn't bother telling him again that it wasn't his fault, just nodding instead. It didn't feel like he was apologising for that this time, anyway. More like he was apologising that it happened at all.

They sat silently together for a while longer. It was almost a mirror of how they'd sat the day before. Their shoulders were pressed together, and sunlight filtered down through the leaves. Except this time, they weren’t looking for somewhere quiet to play with magic. This time, they were hiding from magehunters.

“What now?” Órlaith asked eventually. She winced at the sound of her own voice – ragged and hoarse, and still thick with the after-effects of her crying fit. “We can't -” She stopped, and had to swallow back a sniffle before she went on. “We can't go to the caravan now. And we can't let the magehunters catch us, either. You know that probably better than I do. But there's – there's nowhere we can go.”

They'd be hunted, anywhere they went. The magehunters had already caught Leolin once. They'd have circulated his description, made it far easier for somebody to recognise him again, even if he dyed his hair. And they'd seen Órlaith, too. They knew what she was. It would be far too easy for someone to turn them in. The rewards for selling a spellweaver to magehunters weren't small.

“There might be somewhere,” Leolin said after a few moments of silence. “It's… Some people say it's a myth. But I don't think it is.”

“You’re talking about the City,” Órlaith said.

She'd heard of the City, of course. Most people had. If you weren’t a spellweaver, it was a tall tale. Rumours of a city full of powerful mages, either ridiculous or terrifying, depending on what you thought of spellweavers. If you were a spellweaver, though…

It was a rumour of freedom. Safety. A place that would welcome you, welcome your magic. Where the magehunters couldn't find you. Where you wouldn't have to hide any more.

“It's real,” Leolin said. “I know it is. The magehunters… I heard them talk about it, sometimes. Apparently one or two of them have tried to find it in the past, or their colleagues have. They didn't find it, but they found spellweavers. Ones too powerful for them to take, ones they barely survived. A whole group of them, working together.”

“Maybe,” Órlaith said. It sounded fantastical. Like something out of a children's tale. It was rare enough even for two spellweavers to meet – that was why Órlaith had been so excited to meet Leolin. For the magehunters to encounter a whole group of them… if they were telling the truth, it meant something.

“We’d have to find it,” Órlaith said. “I don't know how easy that would be.”

“It must be possible,” Leolin said, “or it wouldn't exist.”

Neither of them said that maybe it just didn't. Maybe it really was just a tall tale. Maybe there was no City, no safe haven for spellweavers.

“We have to try,” Órlaith said. Leolin nodded.

They sat in silence for a while longer. Judging by the sun, it was nearly noon. Órlaith probably should be hungry, given that she hadn't even eaten breakfast. She wasn't, though. Not after the morning's events.

“I have an uncle,” she said. “Sort of. A friend of my mother's. She told me – she always told me that if anything happened to the caravan, I should try and go to him. That he would help me.” She took a moment to calm herself before she went on. “He lives in one of the big cities, and he’s – an academic, I think. Something like that, but he has a lot of books. A lot of information.”

“You think he might know where to find the City?” Leolin asked.

“Maybe,” Órlaith said, shrugging. “Even if he doesn't, he might be able to suggest where we can look.”

It was the best choice they had, really. Even if he couldn't help them find the city, maybe he could keep them safe. Maybe he could offer them somewhere to hide.

“How far away is he?” Leolin asked. “I don't -” He looked away, turning a little pink. “I never learned much about geography.”

“A few days,” Órlaith answered automatically. Then she paused. “No, it isn't. It's – with the caravan, it would have been. On foot… I don't know. Longer.”

“If we’re on foot, we’re easier to catch,” Leolin said. He sounded like he was speaking from experience.

“I know,” Órlaith said. It would take them longer, and they would need to carry more supplies. Not that they had any supplies anyway.

Then something occurred to her.

“Leolin,” she said slowly. “How much did you see of what happened at the caravan?”

Leolin ducked his head, looking away.

“Not – not all of it,” he said. “I'm sorry, I didn't know what to -”

“No,” Órlaith said, shaking her head. “That's not – I didn't mean that.” She took a deep breath. “There were horses there. Tethered in a shady area. Did you see what they did with them?”

Leolin frowned. “I'm not certain,” he said slowly. “But if they were good horses, they wouldn't have done anything with them. They were always complaining – they would have kept them. Stabled them for now and maybe sell them on later.”

“Do you know where they're staying?” Órlaith asked, a plan beginning to form in her mind.

Leolin stared at her.

“You can't be planning what I think you’re planning.”

“They’re my horses,” Órlaith said. “Some of them are, anyway. And they know me. They can get us to my uncle much more quickly than we could on foot, and they’re tough. And we need supplies anyway.”

“You want to steal horses from magehunters,” Leolin said. “You want to go back to where the magehunters are, and steal from them.”

“They’re my horses,” Órlaith repeated. “It's not stealing if they were mine in the first place. And they deserve it, and worse.” The last two words came up far more bitterly than Órlaith had intended. Now that her grief had settled in, anger was beginning to creep up her throat. She couldn't give into it, she knew that. She didn't want to be the kind of person who would. Even apart from how dangerous it would be. But oh, how she wanted to.

“This,” Leolin said, “is either going to go spectacularly well, or incredibly badly.”

---

They waited until night settled in before leaving the forest. Leolin had a couple of hunks of bread and cheese in his pocket and he shared them with Órlaith. She still wasn't really hungry, but she forced herself to choke them down regardless. Forgetting to eat wasn't going to help anyone.

As the dark settled itself over the crowns of the trees, Órlaith exchanged a glance with Leolin.

"I know where they're staying," he said, voice low. "If you're sure this is what you want to do."

Órlaith nodded firmly.

"We need a faster way out of here," she said. "And it'll slow them down, too, especially if we set all the horses free, and not just the caravan's." They didn't deserve the caravan's horses, either, not the sweet, gentle creatures Órlaith had learnt to ride and lead a cart with. She doubted magehunters would be any kinder to their animals than they were to the spellweavers they caught.

Then again, maybe they would be. People like them probably saw spellweavers as less than animals, after all.

Leolin led the way, through the overgrown path and back into the town streets. They were dark and quiet, a few flickering festival lanterns still around but not much else. Órlaith wondered if word had gotten out about the caravan. If people were afraid, wondering what had happened. The caravan was a regular sight at this festival, after all. They knew people here. And even apart from that, the fact that it had burned in plain sight, no guards helping...

Órlaith shook herself. Don't think about it, she reminded herself. Not now, not when they had a job to do. Later, Órlaith could let herself feel the shattering grief once more, let the emotions flood through her, scream and sob and rage once more. But not now. Now, all those emotions were tucked away behind a wall in her mind, where she put things like sounds or touch that were too much, or cruel words occasionally thrown at her in cities the caravan never went back to.

They made their way through the town. Leolin's steps were almost silent - anyone other than Órlaith probably wouldn't have been able to hear them. She tried to mimic him, knowing that she wasn't as stealthy as he was. She did a passable attempt, though, if she said so herself. It was enough that Leolin only had to shush her once, when she nearly stumbled over an uneven cobble and had to muffle a curse.

Before long, they had reached an inn - it was one of the smaller ones in the town. Órlaith had stayed there a time or two before, and there were only a half dozen rooms. The stables were bigger than the inn itself - it was popular amongst groups of travellers, since they could rest themselves and all the horses they'd brought, riding and pack animals alike.

"They've bought up the whole place," Leolin murmured, nodding at the inn. "There are eight of them, all told. I don't know if the one at the caravan -” Leolin paused, swallowed. "I don't know if he made it back. Yet."

Órlaith nodded. She didn't think the man was dead; he'd been stunned, not unconscious, and it wasn't cold enough for him to have died of exposure, especially not during the day. That wasn't necessarily reassuring, though - if he had made it back to the inn, he'd be angry, and he'd be looking for Órlaith and Leolin, along with his companions. With any luck, the stables would be clear - Órlaith wasn't sure what they'd do if they ran into one of the magehunters there.

"Hopefully we won't need to find out," she said, keeping her voice as low as she could. "The stables are just to the side, there. There shouldn't be any ostlers or stablehands in there by now, they usually go into the inn for supper. If we're quiet and quick, we should be able to get out of here with the horses without being noticed."

"That's a lot of 'shoulds' and 'usuallys'," Leolin muttered. But he followed when Órlaith began creeping towards the stables, staying well away from the circle of light cast by the lamp at the inn's door.

There were a couple of times when the low-level chatter and laughter from the inn rose, and Órlaith froze, terrified that this would be the moment when the door burst open and exposed them both. But they made it to the stable door without incident, and Órlaith pushed it open carefully, hoping against hope that it wouldn't be creaky.

It wasn't, and Órlaith and Leolin slipped inside, closing the door behind them. Órlaith breathed a sigh of relief - until Leolin gasped.

There was a stablehand there, staring at them, eyes wide.

Órlaith straightened. She recognised them - she'd spent a while chatting with this stablehand before, last year. What was their name...

"Meredi," she said, keeping her voice quiet. "It's me, Órlaith. From last year?"

Meredi nodded, gaze flickering between Órlaith and Leolin. Leolin's hair was uncovered, and Órlaith could practically see the realisation spilling over Meredi.

"Please," she said quickly, taking a step forward. "Meredi, please, don't scream or call out or anything, please. It's not - this isn't what the magehunters might have said. Neither of us will hurt you, or anyone else here. We just want to leave."

Meredi glanced between her and Leolin again, then sighed, shaking their head.

"I wondered," they said. "When I heard about the caravan, and what happened..." They shook their head. "They said nobody - well. I knew you'd been around at the festival, Órlaith. And then, when the magehunters brought your horses in, and I heard them talking..." Meredi shuddered. They glanced at the stable door behind Órlaith and Leolin.

Then they stepped aside, clearing a path for Órlaith and Leolin.

"I won't get in your way," they said. "There's not much I can do to help, but... The way those men were talking. About you, about the caravan - about that boy." Their gaze flickered to Leolin. "That's not right. No matter what he - or you - is or isn't. I know who I'd rather help, here. And the innkeep's the same, you know. Only took them in because they paid well and seemed they'd start trouble if she refused them rooms. Nearly threw them out when she heard about the caravan, only then they'd be out on the streets and causing more problems."

"Thank you," Órlaith said, swallowing. Out of all the things that had happened today, finally, finally something good.

Leolin looked poleaxed - maybe because he wasn't used to people not caring he was a spellweaver. Or just not used to people helping him. Órlaith wasn't sure. She was - not shocked, exactly. Because she was used to the caravan knowing what she was and not caring, beyond that it was part of who she was. But for a near-stranger, someone who barely knew her, to outright say that they'd prefer to help her than the magehunters...

"Thank you," Órlaith said again. "We'll be quick, I promise." She hesitated. "Meredi... how much trouble would you be in if the horses were to get loose?"

"Which ones? Just the caravan, or..."

"All of them," Órlaith said. "They're all the magehunters' horses, aren't they? So nobody else would be caught up in it. And they'd get recaptured soon enough, if they're well-trained." Of course, if they weren't well-trained... Well. Órlaith had done her fair share of trying to catch horses with minds set on mischief. It would slow the magehunters down even more, if they had to put effort into catching the horses again. Especially since Órlaith was beginning to suspect that less of the town would help than the magehunters might expect. If Meredi, who Órlaith had spoken to only once, a whole year ago, would prefer to help Órlaith than the magehunters... There were plenty of people in town who knew Órlaith or the rest of the caravan even better.

Meredi frowned. "I'm not sure," they said. "It's a little... Well. There's still my job, you understand. One thing to let you take a couple horses that are yours by rights, another to let you release them all. I might not like it, but on technicalities, the magehunters found those horses wandering, or so they claim. Theirs by rights, now."

Órlaith swallowed down the fury that rose at Meredi's words. She put the anger into a little ball, and tucked it away in the back of her mind. Then she asked, "Meredi, did they say why the horses were wandering?"

"Well," Meredi said, leaning against the wall, "was after the caravan burnt, so I supposed they'd gotten free, made it out."

Órlaith nodded. "And did they say who burnt it?"

That was all she needed to say. Meredi wasn't stupid.

"Bastards," they hissed, straightening up. "They didn't."

Órlaith nodded.

"They wanted information on me," Leolin said quietly, speaking for the first time since they'd entered the stables. "They thought the caravan might have it. But when they argued..."

"Damn it all," Meredi muttered, shaking their head. "Damn them all." They looked up, catching Órlaith's eyes for a split second before Órlaith looked away. "Órlaith, girl, you listen to me. Give me ten minutes, let me get into the inn, get settled. That way they don't tie it back to me, understand? Innkeep will, but once I tell her... They'll be lucky to get a place to sleep for the rest of the night, once the town finds out what they did. Ten minutes, then do what you like. Let the horses loose, tear up their tack, anything short of damaging the building or the animals - you wouldn't anyway, though, I trust that. Then get out of here, and let us take care of things." There was a grim look on their face as they spoke the last sentence.

Órlaith thought about asking what they meant by 'taking care of things'. She thought of Meredi, who'd once hinted at a past darker than most realised. Ulrich, the retired mercenary, who always had weapons on him, no matter how safe things seemed. Agnes, the old woman who ran the town's best bakery, and had a section on her shelves dedicated to poisons. Others she'd met, who men like the magehunters would underestimate.

Órlaith decided not to ask.

"Thank you," she said, for a third time. "I'm sorry to drag you into this."

Meredi shook their head.

"No need," they said. "If anything, it's us that should be apologising to you. You and yours should have been safe here. But you weren't, and it's you now that's paying the price for that. We'll just be... balancing the scales a little. Once you're good and clear of town, of course."

So that neither Órlaith or Leolin could be implicated in anything that happened here. Órlaith nodded.

"Ten minutes, remember," Meredi said, striding past them and out of the stables.

Leolin stared after them.

"Órlaith," he said. "That person - were they suggesting what it sounded like?"

"They take things seriously here," Órlaith said, not looking at him. "The festival... it's meant to be safe, for everyone. The town prides itself on that. If someone interferes, then they'll act. I saw it once, a few years ago - somebody was harassing people, threatening them for money or something." Órlaith hadn't been too involved in any of it - her mother had kept her well out of it, not wanting to risk drawing any attention. But she'd seen enough to know the gist of what had happened. "They nearly strung him up - it was only a few of the townsfolk saying it would put a damper on the festival that stopped it. In the end, he was just thrown out." Minus his money, his belongings, and the horse he'd ridden in on. Órlaith wasn't actually sure if he could have survived - it depended how good his survival skills were.

"Oh," Leolin said, swallowing. "That's - intense."

Órlaith shrugged. It wasn't uncommon, in her experience - people cared about the place they lived. They wanted to keep it safe. Sometimes that showed itself in wariness of strangers and outsiders, and sometimes that showed itself in mob violence. As long as there was somebody there able to direct that violence, it seemed to be accepted, on the whole.

She said as much to Leolin. Leolin took it in, and was quiet for a few minutes. Órlaith was, too - she was counting silently, trying to keep track of how long it had been since Meredi had left.

"I didn't realise," Leolin said eventually. "I haven't - I've not been to many different places. Mostly cities. I didn't know people could be like that about their home."

"Not everyone," Órlaith said absently. She thought it had nearly been ten minutes now. "But I see it more with smaller towns and villages, I think. Where everybody knows each other, even if it's only to say hello to. I think it's time now."

Leolin blinked at the non-sequitur, then his eyes widened.

"You're sure?" he asked, glancing at the stable door. "You're certain this is a good idea?"

"You saw how Meredi reacted," Órlaith answered, heading further into the stables, towards the stalls. "We'll be fine."

It was a few minutes' work to pick two horses for Órlaith and Leolin. Órlaith wished she could take all of them, but it wouldn't work. At least she knew that the town would care for them, now that they knew about the caravan. In the end, after asking Leolin and finding out he'd never learnt to ride, she picked Cian, an older gelding with a sweet temper who'd take care of Leolin, and Aelis, a mare with a little more temper to her who'd been one of the four who tended to pull Órlaith's family's wagon. Their tack was hung up, luckily - Órlaith could ride bareback, but it would have been a lot slower with Leolin. Presumably the magehunters hadn't wanted to deal with the hassle of getting tack properly fitted for the horses, when they could just steal it from the caravan.

The rest... Órlaith pulled out the small knife she kept tucked away. Then she went to work - she cut through every bridle, every girth, every bit of tack that she didn't recognise as belonging to the inn. She slashed open the saddles in several places - even a skilled leatherworker would struggle to repair them now. When she was done, she went back and tacked up Cian and Aelis.

"Hold this," she directed Leolin, handing him the reins for both horses. "Don't let them follow the others - they know to listen, just give the reins a bit of a tug if they start trying to go." Leolin looked like she'd handed him a live snake rather than a few bits of leather, but he took the reins. Órlaith didn't comment on his white-knuckled grip - it wasn't his fault he was unfamiliar with horses, after all.

Finally Órlaith let the rest out. It was more difficult without halters, but she guided the caravan's horses out onto the street, and it was only a little more difficult to coax the other horses out as well. She sent them off with a slap to the rump, then ran back in - they wouldn't have long now, not with the hoofbeats beginning to echo across the cobbles, the sound bouncing off the walls of the houses to ring back twice as loud. She took the reins from Leolin and led both horses outside, looping the reins onto one of the hooks set on the wall for that purpose.

Leolin was eyeing Cian warily, and Órlaith grimaced. They wouldn't have time to ease him into it - and even though she'd learned how to ride young, she still remembered the aches and pains of muscles unused to being strained. But there was no help for it.

"Come on," she said, crouching beside Cian and cupping her hands. "Here, take hold of the saddle with one hand and put your foot here, then you can swing yourself up."

"I'm not sure I can," Leolin said, swallowing. But he stepped forward anyway, bracing his weight against Órlaith for a moment before landing with an ungraceful thud in the saddle. Cian gave an unhappy nicker, but stayed put - he was used to the caravan's children draped like a sack of potatoes over his back. Órlaith would have to teach Leolin the basics of riding, it wouldn't be fair to Cian to not - but not right now.

Órlaith showed Leolin briefly how to hold the reins, where to put his feet, and how to hold on at all costs. Leolin opened his mouth to say something, but Órlaith shook her head, turning towards Aelis. There was no time.

It was a moment's work to swing herself up onto the mare, and then they were off, Cian following Aelis obediently. Órlaith kept it to a walk in the town - people had started to come out of their homes, drawn by the racket outside, and hopefully at a walk they'd be able to blend in more soundwise. She kept them to side streets as much as possible - there were some that would be stupid to take a horse down, especially with an inexperienced rider like Leolin, but there were others that were wide and clear enough to allow them passage. All the while, Órlaith was listening - for all that Meredi had promised the town would be on their side, the news couldn't have gotten out yet. Most people here would recognise Órlaith and the caravan's horses, and either greet them or let them be. But Leolin's hair was gleaming white in the dim lamplights, and it was rare to see someone on horseback within the town itself.

But they made it to the gates without incident. Órlaith hesitated - the guards were there, looking alert.

One of them nodded.

"Meredi sent a runner," she said, gesturing them through. "You'll be the last ones to leave today, if we can help it. Tomorrow, too. Stay safe."

All Órlaith could do was nod, and urge Aelis on through the gate.

A few metres onto the road, Cian settled into a lazy plod beside Aelis, and Leolin spoke.

"That stablehand... they really did want to help us," he murmured. Órlaith nodded, throat too tight to speak.

"We got lucky," Leolin went on, staring ahead at the road stretching out before them. "I hope we stay lucky."

"Yes," Órlaith said, finally managing to find her voice again. "So do I."