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words were nothing like the
sarcastic, slave-driving Rondel that Iren had told her horror stories about.
    Now Minawë had figured
it out. “You’re coddling me,” she said. “Why?”
    Rondel looked insulted.
“I’m watching out for your safety.”
    “I’m fine,” Minawë said.
“You were in such a hurry at the Heart of Ziorsecth. Now you’re dilly-dallying
like a worrisome doe with her fawn. If you want to look out for my safety, then
do it the way you did for Iren. Toughen me up. I’m the one you’re counting on
to defeat the Stone Dragon Knight, remember?”
    Rondel licked her lips.
Finally, she rose. “All right, we’ll do it your way,” she said. “Let’s gather
some supplies and leave. But unfortunately, I can’t train you the way I trained
Iren. With him, we had time to stop and work as we traveled. You and I don’t
have that luxury.”
    “Then how will I learn?”
    “You’ll have to pick
things up as we go. Pay attention when I speak, and practice on the road.”
    Minawë tried to look
more confident than she felt. Still, she wouldn’t run away now.
    The pair spent most of
the day filling packs with food, rope, and other supplies they might need for
the journey. Minawë cast aside her queen’s dress for the sturdy leather boots,
leggings, and jerkin she’d worn on her previous trek to Lodia. Last of all, she
donned a long leather cap so she could conceal her green hair.
    Evening had arrived by
the time they finished preparations. Rondel recommended they set off the next
morning, but Minawë gave her such a firm expression that she relented
immediately. Even so, the old woman showed a bit of the Rondel that Minawë
remembered when she grumbled, “You can barely see in this accursed forest in
the daytime. You’re as bad as Iren. I’m going to trip on a root and twist my
ankle, if not worse. If I break my other hand out here, I swear . . .”
    Minawë laughed, clear
and pure. The sound itself made her happy; it was the first time she’d laughed
in months. Despite the weight of her pack, quiver, and Chloryoblaka, she felt
lighter than she had since Mother’s death.
    They’d barely left
Yuushingaral when they came across the corpse. It was a deer, and it couldn’t
have been dead more than a day. Minawë guessed from the layer of branches
partially covering the body that a cougar had killed it and then stashed it
here to eat more later.
    Rondel wrinkled her nose
at the smell, but Minawë stopped and looked at the carcass. Though the Kodamas
ate venison, something about this deer unsettled her.
    “What’s the matter?”
Rondel asked.
    Minawë shook her head.
“No, it’s nothing.”
    Yet as they continued
their journey, Minawë couldn’t help but look over her shoulder at the corpse.
In her heart she grieved for it, and for its voice forever silenced.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Farm
     
     
    “We should be close,”
Balear called over his shoulder as he, Iren, and Hana headed down a worn dirt
road.
    Iren’s heart fluttered.
After weeks of travel, after years of not knowing about his parents, he was
finally on the cusp. Soon he would see their home blossom on the landscape.
There would be something there, some clue to his magic and how to get it back.
There had to be.
    “I thought you said your
parents lived on a farm,” Hana said. “No farm I know looks like this.”
    She had a point. The
fields around them might once have produced crops, but now weeds choked them.
Even the packed dirt of the road was washing away. The horses had to tread
carefully to avoid the ruts where water had eroded the path’s surface.
    “Growing up, Mom told me
never to come here,” Balear said. “She called it a haunted place.”
    “Because a Left lived
here?” Iren asked.
    Balear’s expression
darkened. “Because one died here.”
    Iren frowned. He’d tried
to avoid thinking about that. Although this farm was where his parents had
lived, it was also the place where Amroth had murdered them.
    “Lodian