Trone in the mid-morning light seemed warmer and more hopeful than many of the other cities Ilyien had visited. It was all the wood architecture, he decided, which allowed the sun to glide through the place. Stone was more durable; stone was steadier. But polished stone also cast off the light and hurt the eyes. It was more work, Ilyien was certain, to have to rebuild all these wood structures every few decades or so -- but the sun slid almost playfully through the city because of it.

The slaves also found joy in the sight of the city as it nestled between the hills on the opposite side of the river. Some shouted; others laughed. Others just smiled, relieved to know that the end of their ordeal was nearly upon them. As Ilyien threw out his arm to signal the ferryman cross over and take payment for the first load of slaves, he glanced toward Aeotha.

More than once during the journey there and back again, she had proven herself worthy of the assignment. None of the slaves had returned undamaged, but none had died, either. What damage could be fixed by her magic and his alchemic recipe had been; the rest must be left to time and care. Ilyien fervently prayed that the masters of these slaves were kind to them.

"It may be best for you to go with the first of them," Ilyien suggested, as the ferry drew near.

Ilyien did not wake the priestess when the moon reached its zenith. He did not wake her when the sun broke the horizon. The slaves had fallen asleep huddled so closely to her that it would have been impossible to rouse only Aeotha, even with a word, to say nothing about the possibility of Aeotha extracting herself without waking any of them in the process. And Ilyien knew just what their reaction would be if any of them woke with a strange man towering over them. They had enough reason to distrust every man in the Outer Realms. He had no desire to fill their minds with panic.

Across the campsite, the bound trio took turns staying awake all night. It was a reasonable plan. Wait until their captor succumbed to sleep, then find a way free of their bonds and their arrest. Ilyien had not slept the night before. It was dangerous to remain sitting. He paced the campsite instead, far enough away that his footsteps would not disturb the girls, close enough that he still had a clear view of the huddle of brigands. In the hour before sunrise, they finally gave up their plan. It was too late now.

At daybreak, Ilyien rubbed his eyes with the gloved fingers of his left hand, then drew his sword with his right. One by one, he marched each of the thieves into the forest to see to their crude human needs. They were not quiet about it. When the chore was done, the girls were awake. Best to get an early start, but he would not have begrudged them another hour of sleep. Breakfast was made of the last of the bread and dried meat he had in his saddlebag. There was still food left in the dead men's possessions, and that would serve on the trip back to Trone -- but later. The night had afforded him plenty of opportunity to go through what the dead men left behind and salvage those things that could be useful. They were packed, now, in the saddlebags he would tie onto his horse.

"You will lead," he finally said to Aeotha, once breakfast was served. "If you recall the way back." It was likely that she did. She'd proved herself to be a capable traveler.

Night descended on the Deagian Wood, dimming the brightness of the autumn leaves that had now stretched over his head - their heads - every day for the better part of a week now. If the Precept of Tyr was accurate in his projection, they had only a few more miles to go before they found who they were looking for. But Ilyien had driven a hard pace, and despite the quietness of the elven maid seated behind him on his horse, her exhaustion was radiating from her in waves he could not easily ignore. Honesty would also have the phoenix admit - if only to himself - that he was near as exhausted as she. Time was the enemy now, and weary or no, there was no choice but to move forward if they were to have any hope of catching the band of men ahead.

A few more miles. Only that. And after they had their quarry in their sites, and after they had found the property stolen from the citizens of Trone, and after the thieves were securely bound, then they would be free to rest. Only then. But with the night and proximity of their goal, it would no longer do to ride. When the sound of the nearby brook was loud enough to assure that they were close enough, Ilyien finally drew his horse out of its gait and dismounted. The legs of his human form protested mightily - as did the back, the shoulders - but Ilyien listened only closely enough to determine if any true damage had been done. None had, he decided, and continued stiffly on. After passing the reins of the horse over the low-hanging tree branch they'd stopped under, he reached up for the elven maiden - Aeotha, she said her name was - and took her by the waist to the ground with a casual and easy motion. He did not release her until he was certain she wouldn't fall.

"We'll walk the rest of the way," he explained. "It will be quieter and we will have a better chance for surprise." But even in the gloaming, he could not ignore her expression at the news. For not the first time, he was reminded why his traveling was done alone. With a frown, he looked westward, then turned back to his horse. "After some rest," he finally amended, unwinding the reins from the tree branch now and setting the horse free to forage for what he could find. The promise of water nearby sent the great beast off in that direction, and Ilyien did not stop him.