'Well enough. Still infirm from the voyage. A girl of her stature, travelling alone for so long ...  she was delighted when we told her you agreed to hosting her.'

Before long, the steward returned with something thin and gangly hiding behind the breadth of his figure. The Eling half of her was unmistakable. She was not so fair and speckled, but a more bronzed tone after a few days of hard labour under the sun.

She sat, the candlelight waving over her face, accentuating every bone jutting from her cheeks and the shadows beneath her eyes.

What a wasted little thing. Isla failed to find any semblance of Sir Edric in the girl. She was too gaunt to look like anything other than a starving waif.

Sir Edric pulled his chair closer towards his daughter. 'It's been difficult for her to keep much down. Nor is she accustomed to Eling food.'

'Oh, that is easily remedied,' said Noi, before switching to Srikh. 'I will have for you something more familiar when we are home.'

The girl smiled. A laborious effort that did not reach her eyes. Sir Edric served her a drink and reverted the conversation back to his own tongue. 'Her medicines are packed.'

'We will nurse her to health. Of that you have my word, sir.'

'And you my gratitude. Both of you. I could not entrust my daughter into finer hands.'

Noi flushed, spared from further embarrassment when the servants came bearing a line of dishes.

Aldir talked as they ate, for Haana was silent and Sir Edric pensive throughout their meal. It was a strange sight for Isla, who would have risked the wrath of every crown prince of every realm for the chance to be seated with her family once again. But Sir Edric had spent only a turn of the month with his daughter; already now he was sending her away. Haana, too, looked as though she could not care less.

Isla distracted herself with another slice of quail. It was different for Haana, of course, who had never known her father. Sir Edric was just a stranger to her. It could not be compared.

Even their farewells, when it came to it the following morning, were awkward and as cold as the wind howling from the vineyards. Haana was even less accustomed to the cold than was Noi. Having bade her father a stilted goodbye, she was lifted into their wagon and buried under several inches of fur.

'I wish we could escort you ourselves, but Whitebill will have to see you home,' said Aldir. His bondmate was much more docile that morning, perched atop Noi's wagon – though her donkeys shifted uncomfortably under the erne's gaze. 'I'll visit the very second Prince Dariel steps foot outside our door. Kick him out myself if I must.'

'We'll take care of her.' Isla gave his arm a reassuring squeeze. She clambered into the wagon, waved goodbye, and settled beside Haana. It was a tight fit, and between their twelve barrels of beans and the preservation runes hanging off the bonnet, Isla had to fight to find both leg room and head space.

'It is a day's hard ride to Beltaer.' Noi mustered the donkeys to a start. 'Two, with these mules. I hope you pay no mind to spending a night in there.'

Haana responded only with a shiver. Isla was torn between sympathy and amusement. It had been difficult for her, too, when they first arrived. They had prepared to the best of their ability, but not all the clothes in their coffers could withstand the brunt of an Eling winter. Again, Sir Edric had come to their rescue, introducing them to thick furs and heavy coats and his nephew Aldir to guide them through it all.

Isla secured the flaps, darkness descending into the wagon. It's high time we started repaying their kindness. Now—where has that little critter gone off to?

The wheels bumped and dipped beneath them as they made their ascent through the vineyards. Isla braced against their barrels for support. She peered behind their wares, stretched on her knees to search through their hanging runes; but it was not until she rifled through her own satchel that she found what she was looking for.

'What are you doing in there?' She scooped up the salamander that had been hiding inside, conscious of Haana's curious gaze upon them. She crawled towards the girl, who shirked deeper into her blankets. 'Don't be afraid. It's just a salamander. It'll keep you warmer, won't you little one?'

The salamander chirruped in Isla's hand and lit itself in a gentle flame to concur. She lowered the element onto Haana's knees, its warmth and light spreading over them like a smouldering campfire.

'It's a daemon.' It was the first time Isla heard Haana speak. For some reason she had imagined a soft, dainty voice; but Haana's voice was much more ... seasoned. A voice that belonged to a mature woman; one who has suffered enough disappointments and heartbreak to give it a naturally accusatory lilt.

'Only an element, which is the lowest of their castes, so you've nothing to fear.' Isla stroked the creature with a finger. 'It's been with us for ten years, now. It does a fine job keeping us warm and the lanterns lit.'

Noi had bought the fire element from a wandering merchant years ago, when they had barely settled in Elingar. Isla had immediately adored the new addition to their small family, even now when its flame had grown tired and unpredictable.

Haana slithered a finger out of her sheets and poked the salamander. The creature accepted it with patience. 'It ... doesn't burn.'

'It only burns what it wishes.'

The road bumped, and Haana snatched away her finger. The salamander was so small, it barely made the length and width of a man's fist. Still it frightened the girl. Then again, I don't suppose they have much use for salamandra in Surikhand.

Isla leaned back, watching Haana watch the little creature. Somewhere along the way, she must have dozed off.

They stopped once that day to lunch by a brook and water the donkeys. Whitebill descended from his watch to share Isla's fish, and later, once they were all sated, Isla took a turn at the box seat to allow Noi a few hours of rest.

The road was easy enough, cutting through level terrain and pastures. But for the silhouette of a lone rider far behind them and a number of farmsteads upon every few mile, they were the only ones upon the Seafarer's Way.

Only as the sun began to retire did the fields become more forested. Trees closed around them, the road more often bumped and snagged.

Noi took over the reins long enough to direct them into a clearing. 'It is too dark. We might be losing ourselves in these woods. Prey to wild beasts. Worse – have poor Bray or Knott here injured.'

Isla turned to the sky. They still had a few hours left of light, though the canopy hid it well and would only grow denser.

'I think it better we sleep in the wagon. It will be a lot more riskier outside. Colder, too.'

'A lot more risky.' Isla hopped off to relieve the donkeys of their harness and, having given them each a handful of apples, secured them to a nearby tree. Whitebill called from its boughs, wings outstretched. 'We're all out of fish, Whitebill. You'll have to hunt for your dinner.'

The erne gave a parting screech before taking deeper into the woods.

When Isla clambered back into the wagon, Noi was already serving their meal. She had made a table of a barrel; their salamander curled upon its centre, heating three bowls of stew. Noi patted the space beside her, and Isla gladly sat.

'Haana was telling me about herself.' The handmaid spoke in Srikh. Her way of helping the girl feel at ease, though Isla would have preferred to help her accustom to Eling.

There will be time for that later. 'Oh? Where from Surikhand did you come?'

Haana cocked her head.

Is my Srikh so ill-practiced? Noi was used to her strange dialect, but to an outsider, it must have rung false, as a lute out of tune. In truth, the words even felt odd as they rolled off Isla's tongue. Funny how her own language could grow so foreign. 'Noi and I ... we lived long ago in a fishing town called Arikit. My father was there the best fisherman, my mother a teacher at the nearest school.' Which had not been so near at all. The closest had been in the next town over, but that had never stopped her mother from setting off early and returning in time for dinner.

'Yet ... you have a handmaid.'

Isla startled at the directness of Haana's statement. She did not remember the Surikh to be so indiscreet.

Noi saved her the discomfort of answering. 'It is common for us – the poor and homeless – to seek kind folk who would take us into their household for whatever work they can spare. Many turn to beg in the streets. I was lucky to find Isla's family.'

No, Isla thought. We were extremely fortunate to have found Noi.

Cheap, almost free labour, coming off the streets with nothing but the clothes on their backs. There was no guaranteeing what sort of individual one was taking into his home. Even as a child, Isla had heard many gruesome tales of street-servants turning upon their hosts, robbing them blind and leaving them dead in their beds.

'I have never heard of this practice,' said Haana.

A wealthy girl, then? Or at least she had been sheltered from the habits of the lesser folk. People like Noi would not be seeking employment from the upper class. The wealthy would never risk their lives and fortune employing a street urchin, whom have neither credentials nor anyone to vouch for them.

'Pray you never need to,' said Noi.

'Did you live in the city?' asked Isla.

'In a city.'

'Then you will like Beltaer. How are you finding Elingar?'

'Cold. But you like it here?'

'You will, too. In time.'

'Maybe.' Haana played with her stew.

She misses her mother. Or someone back home, at least. Isla knew that look. She also knew encouragements would be futile. 'I miss Arikit. I remember so little of it.'

'Then why not come home, if you miss it so much?' There was a bite to Haana's voice, which Isla took graciously.

'Could be the same reason as yours.'

Noi's spoon clattered in her empty bowl. 'If you are finished, we must practice.'

'Practice what?' Haana frowned.

'Sneaking you into Beltaer.'

'I thought I would hide in the barrels?'

'And make a mock of my theurgy?' Noi pushed the barrel and cleared the centre of their wagon.

'Noi's a concealist,' Isla explained off the look on Haana's face. 'Uh, a mind-veiler, as we call it in the Eastern Isles.'

'Not a very good one, so you need to listen carefully.'

Noi was a fourth-rank theurgist. That was the standard, but the handmaid was untrained. Everything she knew had been self-taught. To Isla, that made it far more impressive, disregard how little Noi was actually capable of.

While the strongest theurgists of her skill were able to move about unseen, conceal buildings, vanish entirely with the snap of a finger; Noi was limited to concealing only those directly in her physical reach.

'... and you must remain at all times quiet,' finished the handmaid. 'The smallest movement will break the concealment, or if someone gets too close.'

Noi sidled next to Haana and took her hands. The salamander's flickering light danced over them, hand-in-hand amidst the barrels. Noi's normally dull yellow earrings sparked a pale gold.

Everything was silent but for the element's cackling – a sound like dropping water – and in a flicker of the salamander's light, they were gone.

Isla counted the beat of her heart. The longest Noi could hold had not been more than a few minutes.

'I feel no different,' said Haana, and they blinked into presence.

'You were both gone, until you spoke.'

'Just remember to stay still and silent, and we will have you in Beltaer without incident,' added Noi.

'Then it will be safe? Once I am in the city?'

Isla looked over the girl's head and exchanged a furtive glance with Noi. She did not know why she was so ill at ease; it was only one other thing to hide. Wise Father knows we've plenty experience with that. Still. Isla was tired of hiding.

❖ ❖ ❖