Traville entered, and Maela sat up straight. She had asked numerous times over the previous few days about reuniting with Darla, but the attendants all said it wasn’t up to them. She was certain that such a decision would be made only by a senior wizard, so she pressed for a meeting with Traville.

“You look positively healthy, Maela!” Traville stated, a broad smile on his face and his voice full of warmth as he walked in. Maela stood up to meet him.

“Thank you, Traville.” Maela bowed to the lead wizard. “It is why I was hoping to talk to you. Would it be possible for me to share lodgings with Darla?” Cut right to the chase, Maela thought. Don’t give him the opportunity to twist the conversation to something else.

“No need to bow, Maela. Come, let us sit as friends.” Traville waved his arm, and two chairs appeared out of thin air near the wall. Maela gasped. “Ah, you should not be so impressed. It is but a transport spell. Those—” Traville pointed to the chairs. “Are from my office. I merely moved them here. Movement and destruction spells are difficult but don’t require high level mastery.” Traville waved Maela again to a chair, walking over to the far one and sitting down.

“What kind of spell requires mastery?” Maela said, not able to hide the awe in her voice as she sat.

“Spells that change the shape and nature of things. For example, turning an iron lock into sand or raw stone into finished brick. But there is only one wizard alive who can do that today. There were more centuries ago, but the move through the mountain was as difficult on us as it was on you.” Traville stared at Maela, and she knew it meant she was sitting with that one wizard capable of such magic.

Maela realized that Traville had distracted her, so she repeated her question. “Can I join Darla?”

“Of course, but first we will be moving you to your own home in the Woodlands. It is to the northeast and quite beautiful.”

A move to a new location did not quite sound like freedom. With nothing to lose, Maela pressed for more answers. “So we are to live there. Are we free to roam your beautiful city?”

Traville was quiet and once again stared at Maela, as if looking for the right words. Finally, he said, “No. You will be restricted there. We have a law about the Forbidden Tunnel. No one is to enter the tunnel ever. Breaking that law is punishable with life in prison.”

“But I didn’t enter the tunnel!” Maela exclaimed as she realized that the wizards were going to keep her under house arrest for what seemed like the rest of her life.

Holding up his hands, Traville replied, “We understand and that is why we chose this generous resolution. You entered the tunnel, so technically you are in violation. But you entered it from the other side, which was… unanticipated.”

Maela shook her head. “So Darla and I will live in this Woodlands. Will we have freedom to roam the woods or will we be confined to a home with a pleasant view of the trees to distract us.” Bitterness dripped from Maela’s voice.

“The latter.”

“Why don’t you banish us from the city and send us back into the tunnel.”

“Don’t be foolish. By now you should know that the tunnel is closed for a reason. We cannot have our brothers and sisters once again cause us the grief they did so long ago. They have not earned that trust. They will never earn that trust.” Traville stood, not looking quite as jovial as when he entered. “Tonight you will receive new clothing. Tomorrow you will depart in a closed carriage for the Woodlands. Please don’t think of returning to your home city of Ness. It will never happen.” Traville walked to the door, stopped, and turned back to Maela. “Goodbye, Maela. This is your new home.” He took one more step and then paused again. “You should be grateful.”

As the door closed Maela knew that the next step would happen in their new prison far from the mountain and the center of this new city of Ness.

Unlike their home city of Ness, the roads in this Ness were of packed dirt, so the trip in the carriage was smooth and pleasant, with no jarring cobblestones. Maela sat across from Darla in a small carriage that had little room for them both. There were no windows, and the wooden doors were locked from the outside.

“If we had any doubts about whether we were prisoners or not, this dispels them,” Darla noted as she once again pushed against the door. “This is a mobile prison.”

Maela took note of the doors, and the space within the carriage. She could see three vulnerabilities that would enable them to escape, although two of them would require lengthy preparation to exploit. But Maela didn’t bother following through on any of them—she knew that their best hope of a successful escape was from their new home. There they could assess timing and defenses and potentially escape with a lengthy lead before anyone would know they were missing. Escaping now would only lead to a quick re-capture.

“You are quiet,” Darla noted.

“I don’t like that they are listening to us,” Maela nodded her head toward a slit at the front of the carriage over her shoulder. The driver and a guard was just outside. Darla nodded. The remainder of the journey was marked by the sounds outside the carriage—voices and shouts from roadside, the sound of horses, wagons, and carriages going by, the rustle of the wind, and the ever-present slight rumble of the wheels turning as they made their way through the city toward what they only knew as the Woodlands.

“Whoa!” came from outside the slit, and the carriage prison slowed to a halt.

Maela looked at Darla, who smiled and replied, “Five hours, more or less.”

“Someday you’ll need to teach me how you do that,” Maela replied, shaking her head.

“It’s instinct,” Darla replied, pointing to her temple with a finger.

A click preceded the door being yanked open, letting in a defused sunlight, still bright enough that Maela had to squint and shade her eyes. “Welcome to your new home,” a shadow stated in a happy sing-song voice. A hand came into view, and Maela took it as it helped her out of the carriage.

“Home is an interesting word for prison,” Darla said as she followed Maela out.

They were in a small clearing at the end of a lane. The lane snaked through trees and was lost at a turn in the distance. Looking around, Maela couldn’t quite comprehend what she was seeing. The trees were everywhere, rising high into the sky, with dark brown bark of various shades combined with greens of similar variety.

“Wow,” Darla said.

The trees were huge, rising fifty feet or more into the air with lush foliage obscuring the sky. The clearing was the only thing that let light in, but it was dim, filtered by leaves and shadows. Maela looked around, noticing a cottage about the size of a small house you would find in the Flats or the Lower Triangle. It was bathed in shadow but appeared homey enough. Beyond that there was nothing but trees and more trees.

“This is your new home,” a tall man standing near the front of the carriage said. He had his hand on the hilt of his sword and looked like he knew how to use it. Despite his appearance, his voice was kindly. He didn’t wear red but clothes that were a combination of colors—brown, deep green, and blue. For someone used to the monochromatic guilds of Ness, it was striking looking and somewhat unsettling.

“I don’t see any walls or bars, at least,” Darla replied spinning around as she took everything in.

“You have a guard.”

“You?” Maela asked. She hadn’t seen anything but the house and the carriage, with its driver and the man with his hand on his sword.

“No. I will be leaving with the carriage. Your guard will only make himself known if you try to leave.”

“And how will he know that we are trying to leave?” Maela asked.

“He’ll know.” The man pointed to the house. “The cabin has a well behind it with fresh water. There are supplies inside. You will find a bow with some arrows, as well, so that you may hunt for food.” The man leapt onto a step and pulled himself up onto the carriage. “Do you have any questions?”

“How long are we to stay here?” Darla asked.

“Forever.”

“Where does the lane lead?” Maela pointed down where they came from.

“If you follow it, death.”

“What if we escape?”

The man frowned. “Don’t make this a death sentence. Enjoy your time in the forest. It is the only time you have.” The man looked at Darla and then Maela. “Anything else?”

“Do you know what kind of people live on rat flesh and blood?” Darla asked.

The man recoiled. “What kind of question is that? No. Of course not.”

“The kind who persevere.”

The man shook his head and patted the driver of the carriage on the shoulder. It made a wide circle and headed down the lane, the man with the sword watching them over his shoulder the whole time.

When the carriage was out of earshot, Darla muttered under her breath, “And the kind who escape.”