Bonto thanked them one more time before they departed, making them promise they would come by the village for a proper visit when they were heading back in his direction.

The caravan was just getting packed up when they arrived.

"Where'd you three sneak off to?" Cecily asked as she tightened some straps on one of the horses. "Getting in a little early morning exercise? You know it's dangerous to go too far into the woods. You might run into the Laka-uni."

"We'll have to keep that in mind," Uzca said, suppressing a chuckle.

"Whoa! What happened to your hand? You still good in a fight?"

"Are you expecting one?" Bezben replied.

"You should always be expecting a fight on the road. We'll be heading by the Meglemen swamp in a few days. We certainly want everyone in top condition. What did you do? Stick your hand in the fire?"

"Ah, no, I was just playing with my cousin's carving knife, but as it turns out, he's the craftsman, not me."

"Ahhh. We've all been there. You'll be more careful next time, son. And you!" she turned on Uzca, who took a short step back in surprise. "You should keep closer track of your possessions and make sure your cousin doesn't hurt himself!"

Uzca scratched his head sheepishly. He felt remarkably bad about the imaginary mistake. Cecily had that effect on people. "Sorry. I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

She nodded at him and grabbed Thad's arm.

"Come on, Thaddeus. I need to look at this cart wheel again. Something seems a little off with it."

Bezben turned to Uzca once the others were out of earshot.

"She's kind of a lot, isn't she?"

"Yeah. We definitely want to stay on her good side. Good thing we have Thad with us."

The caravan departed after only a few short minutes. The wheel Thad looked at was fine; he had just repaired part of it the previous night, and it needed a few rotations to set correctly. It lined up nicely after the wagon started moving, and Cecily allowed him to return to the wagon with Uzca and Bezben.

Throughout the first day on the road, Uzca and Bezben rested. They had been up late and woken early. Bezben complained about his hand a few times but stopped after failing to attract sympathy from Uzca or Thad. For Uzca's part, he felt bad for his cousin but didn't want to draw attention to the wound.

When the next morning arrived, they snuck away from camp just enough to swap out Bezben's bandages and take a look at the wound in private.

His hand, unfortunately, looked worse than it did the previous morning. The welts were bright red and angry, and the black symbol on his palm was bleeding.

"That doesn't look great," Bezben said, grimacing at his palm.

"Can you heal it, Thad?"

"Probably not. The injury is being caused by the mark. I can try, but I don't know what will happen."

"Maybe you should wait then," Uzca said. "Does it hurt, Bez?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Maybe we should just apply the salve and wrap it back up. Didn't you say too much magic could be dangerous?"

"Bezben would be fine. The divine magic that caused this wasn't a healing effect, and it has long passed. Magical effects close together is what you need to watch out for."

They wrapped it back up, and the day passed without incident. The caravan made it to the refuge before the Meglemen swamp that evening. There were three groups waiting to cross the swamp when they arrived, and Cecily negotiated a minor fee from the travelers for joining up to Brightwater.

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"Why would they pay that?" Uzca asked.

Thad looked up from the beginnings of a fire. "What do you mean?"

"Why wouldn't they just follow the caravan on foot. You said it was only about a day to cross, right? Surely, they could manage that for free?"

"It's two days, but that's the thing about the swamps. Large groups usually keep the beasts at bay, but if there's an attack, you wouldn't want to be excluded from any defensive perimeter, would you? They pay for protection. It's typically a very modest fee, and half the time, the caravan leaders will return it after the swamps."

"Then why charge at all?"

"Think of it as an agreement to promote good behavior on both sides. It helps make trips past the swamps less prone to arguments, which can have disastrous effects."

Uzca spread out his bedroll. The refuge was basically just a large, flat area with a simple wall surrounding it. It wasn't secure against an attack, but wandering creatures from the nearby swamp would have to make it through the guarded entrance to attack anyone. The caravan had spread out, and many of the people they had been traveling with mingled with the new groups in the refuge.

"I guess that makes sense. Are attacks really that common?"

"They are. I would be surprised if we didn't see anything that tried to attack us, but it's unlikely we'll get more than a small group or two with our numbers."

"I wish my hand was healed," Bezben said. The welts were still there, but it had looked better that morning. "I wouldn't mind stabbing a few beasts."

"You may get your chance, injury or not," Cecily said, walking up to the group. "You going to be okay with that? If not, we're going to have to talk about your passage across the swamp. You paid for partial guard duty fares, after all."

"I can do it."

"Good, good. I'm just planning out formation. You're our only mage, Thaddeus, so I'm going to have you out in front, but not first. Will you be alright with these two ahead of you, or do you want someone with a little more experience in front?"

"I'm sure Bezben and Uzca will be sufficient. Shore up weaker spots on your perimeter with the more experienced guards."

"Alright then. When we head out tomorrow, you three will be taking point. The caravan is to move slowly and steadily. A moderate marching speed. We don't stop unless there's an attack, so make sure your canteens are full, your packs are stowed in the wagon, and you have some road rations for lunch. Got it?"

"Got it," they said in almost practiced unison.

"Good. We head out at first light."

* * *

Billy sat around, wasting another day. He had his hat over his eyes as he tried to sink into the feeling of a drunken haze. The people at the swamp crossing refuge mostly kept to themselves, but he had bought some booze off someone with the last of his coin. His luck had been so good, and now it was so rotten.

He had told Travis they shouldn't stop in Orzii, but the man felt invincible with his magic tool. Unfortunately, it's hard to make a good getaway when there are only two real roads out of town. Sure, they could have headed up into the low mountain passes, but it was said that stealing from the highlanders was a quick path to getting your head separated from your shoulders.

So they had headed south. Billy didn't know how that group of mages had found them or even why there had been a group of mages in a place like Orzii, but he shuddered when he thought about the spears of white light the tall man had called down upon his group. Billy had run immediately.

He didn't care much for the rest of the troupe, and he was sure they wouldn't get out of jail for a long time. They'd been stealing since damn near Amailesh. If anything, it was a miracle they hadn't been caught earlier. Still, he was free and had something that might be his ticket to the good life.

He pulled out the black metal orb. It was a bumpy, uneven sphere surrounded by a metal cage. Billy knew nothing about magic, enchanted items, or any of that arcane nonsense—that had always been Travis' area of expertise—but he knew this must be something good. The mage that had torn through their numbers, the one he spotted before making his final break, had been the one he took the orb from. Satisfied with looking at his eventual ticket to the good life, he tucked it back into a pocket before someone spotted him fiddling with it.

A shout went up, startling him, and he thought he had somehow been caught.

Another shout drew him further from his alcohol-induced stupor. He pulled back his hat and took a look. A caravan was coming. Finally, he could get away from this hellish forest. He'd crossed the swamp a few times with groups, and there had never been an issue. The stories and prevailing wisdom had convinced him to wait.

The caravan was a good size. That was good. He regretted spending his last coin on booze since it might have gotten him a seat on one of the wagons. Payment to the caravan leader was traditional, but they wouldn't turn away a lone traveler with no coin. A ride in the wagon, though? That would be a few copper coins, at the least.

He finally began to relax after his week of running when he spotted three familiar figures walking into the camp.

The mages.

He ducked behind a small crowd of people, hoping to blend in.

What was he going to do? If they caught him during the journey, they might haul him to the authorities in Brightwater Crossing, or worse, they could simply decide execution was in order and leave his body for the swamp.

No. That's not how Billy would go. Acting nonchalant, he simply walked out of the refuge fortification. Everyone was busy with the caravan's arrival, and no one would note his absence with the flood of new people.

He walked down the road toward the swamp. He would cross on his own. He wouldn't give those mages the satisfaction of catching him, even if it killed him.