Dearest Zann,

Even though Ambe and I had been friends for some time, I had never seen her use magic the way Knarrett did. When Ambe cast a spell, it was in response to some problem that Candur or somebody had brought her. She’d think about it, and then do something to solve the problem. But Knarrett wasn’t in a situation where he thought he could be relaxed and reactive like that. Knarrett had urgent things to do and didn’t mind using magic to get them all done, so he was casting lots of spells and keeping them all going at the same time. It gave me a new appreciation for how dangerous wizards could be.

What he wanted to do was to take me across Crideon without anybody knowing about it. I didn’t know what he had in mind, and I wasn’t interested in helping him do anything to Ambe, but if he could get me away from Ladal I was happy to cooperate.

Knarrett already had a binding spell on me, and some kind of protective spell for both of us. Next he put on a ring, which gave a purple glow to his hand anytime he clenched his fist. Finally he… I don’t know how to describe it any better than this… he grabbed a sheet of air out of nothing and wrapped it around the two of us.

“What’s that?!” I said.

He grinned nervously. “Just a cheap trick,” he said. “It’ll make people not notice us. Basically it’s pretty good against most people but doesn’t do a curst thing against wizards. Good news is I don’t think we’ll have to trick any wizards right away. Still. Don’t talk and don’t piss around on the street. Keep your head down. No point having some pissard with a lot of willpower suddenly see us.”

And, just as easy as that, we walked quietly downstairs and out into the street. Ladal and some of his marauders were in the common room, but we went right past them. It didn’t seem like it ought to work–and Knarrett was just as nervous as I was–but it did.

Once we were well away from the tavern, Knarrett exhaled. “Hardest part’s over,” he murmured. “I don’t want to spend too long wandering around, though. Where’s–oh, I know what.” He turned to me and said, “Get down on your hands and knees.”

“Why?”

“So we can get out of here. Don’t worry, it’s not as bad as being turned into a frog.”

I didn’t want to do it. “No way. I don’t trust whatever you’re going to do.”

“Can’t ever be easy,” he said, and pulled down, with his hand, on the empty air, and the symbol on my forehead hauled me down to a kneeling position. He pulled forward, and I lurched forward so that I was on all fours. Then he sat on my back.

There were other people around, and none of them were staring at us, but when Knarrett swung his leg over my back I thought I saw a couple of them frown slightly, as though they were trying to remember something. Then Knarrett took out a feather and touched my arms with it, and said some words that slipped through my ears without pausing to let me hear them.

And I felt some kind of shape form around us, something like a man on horseback, something like a bird, and we started moving. I wasn’t doing any of the work, and he wasn’t even putting much weight on me; there was just a magical phantom idea carrying us quickly through Crideon. Knarrett was sweating again, with all this magic. “I’ll sleep tonight,” he said.

We whipped through the centre of town. I could see burned buildings and corpses and different gangs everywhere. I had been hoping for a glimpse of Wande, somewhere, but my luck wasn’t in. Finally we turned a corner I could have sworn wasn’t there and stopped in front of a tall and handsome brown building. “You know some wizards here?” I asked.

“They don’t like me much,” he said. “But they’ll love you.” He looked around for threats, saw none, and let a couple of spells drop. We stood upright and noticeable, and Knarrett put his ring away. He led me through the front door and down a hallway. It smelled nice in here, like herbs and oils and wood and things.

We turned a corner, and a fellow in an open bureau there said, “You can’t–Knarrett! You can’t go in there! The Council is meeting!”

“I have business with the Council!”

He came out of the bureau. A bald man with a half dozen large wooden earrings. “No you don’t!”

“This fellow,” Knarrett said, slapping me on the arm, “knows where Ambe has been. He’s her friend.”

The bald man stared at me. “Oh,” he said. “Oh. Well. Let me announce you, then.”

Love,

Ybel