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same amount of ease, shifting her so that she sat sideways. She put an arm around his waist for balance, cuddling in like a sickly sister would with her head on his chest.
    “Just keep your eyes closed,” Sarvell murmured into the top of her head. “Act like you’re asleep.”
    “Alright.” Actually, taking a nap sounded tempting. She’d only had a few hours of sleep before Sarvell and Rialt had broken her out of the cell. It was close to midday now and she sorely felt the aftereffects of her nighttime adventures.
    Her ears picked up the sounds of the creak and shift of the saddle leather as Rialt mounted his stallion.
    They left their forest hideaway and made a beeline for the main road. The horses made soft slapping and rustling sounds as they moved through tall grass, low brush and the usual forest undergrowth. Upon gaining the road, these sounds were exchanged by creaking wagons, plodding feet, and the distinct smell of cold stone. This close to the city, the road was paved with smooth stone that gave each hoof beat a slightly metallic ring. On the air, other sounds came: people speaking, dozens of different animals as they called out, the thumps and rings of work being done. All of these sounds weaved together with scents of baking bread, metalworking, streaming water, and the less aromatic scents of waste and refuse. They were closing in on the city.
    Wexels was the last main city before leaving Thornock territory. It was the main center of trade for Thornock and Ramath, so the amount of noise and bustling emanating from the city was understandable.
    To her surprise, despite the constant stream of traffic in and out of the main gates, at least one guard remembered Sarvell and stopped him. “Didn’t you already come in and leave?” the voice was heavy with suspicion and old from too much ale.
    “Miscommunication.” Sarvell’s tone conveyed exasperation and a little irritation. “I was told to meet these two inside the city, they thought they were supposed to wait outside. ”
    “So who are they?”
    “Ah, this is my little sister. He’s a guard that works for my family.”
    “I see. Come through, then.”
    Sarvell’s thighs flexed as he tapped his heels against the horse’s flanks, urging him back into motion. Jewel counted to ten before she dared to ask, “Did he buy that story?”
    “Maybe. It sounded plausible enough to him that he let us through at least. Now we need to quickly get under cover before anyone else stops and asks us questions.”
    Jewel had never been to Wexel before, so the turns that Sarvell made had no real meaning to her. He had to twist and maneuver around other people and their wagons so often that she soon lost her bearings entirely.
    She breathed a sigh of relief when they stopped. Jewel waited patiently, alert for some cue as to what Sarvell had planned next. He bent slightly to put his mouth near her forehead. “I’m going to hand you down to Rialt. He’ll carry you inside and to a back room. Keep your eyes closed and keep pretending you’re asleep.”
    She nodded understanding.
    Rialt came and lifted her off as easily as he had put her on, tucking one arm under her knees and the other around her back in a supportive brace. She tucked her head under his chin, hands folded in her lap. The beard against her bare forehead tickled and she had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.
    She felt very secure in his iron-hard grip. Rialt ascended two steps and crossed a wooden porch, his boots giving off hollow thuds with every stride he took. The quiet slide of a door being opened, and then new sounds and smells invaded her senses. The solid thumps of large bundles being moved against the floor, the dusty smell of paper, the sharper and earthier smell of new leather, male voices calling out questions and orders to each other. A mercantile business? That was her impression.
    One person at least noticed and recognized them. “Sarvell Sorpan! What brings you out here?”
    “Well,