“How about supplies? You don’t look like you brought much.”
“I already have everything that I need waiting for me,” he answered.
“What about for your escort?”
“There’s plenty for him too,” said Will.
“One hour,” she reiterated, and then she was gone.
Will walked a little farther down while he waited, until he spotted the trail that led to the spring. Then he sat down in the grass beside the road. Mentally he reviewed their conversation, chuckling at parts of it. He wasn’t sure how much he should believe. She had certainly showed considerable influence over Lord Fulstrom, but he wasn’t sure if that would carry over to Lord Nerrow.
There was also a significant chance that she would fail. The next people he saw might be a contingent of soldiers sent to arrest him, but that didn’t bother him too much. So long as he stayed alert, he could easily get to the spring and escape before they could lay a hand on him.
An hour and a bit more passed before he spotted a figure coming up the road toward him. The newcomer was hidden by a long, white cloak trimmed in fur. He goggled at it. Is that arctic fox? How much would a thing like that cost?
He judged the stranger to be of average height for a man, though he possessed a slight build. Had there been anyone like that in the camp? Surely, he would have remembered a thin, rich fop of a sorcerer if he had seen one. The stranger kept his head down, face hidden by the hood of his cloak until he came abreast of Will.
Will watched as the stranger threw back the hood of the cloak and flashed a smile at him. It was Isabel.
“Oh, hell no!” declared Will.
“I was the only sorcerer available,” she told him proudly.
“I’m not taking you,” he growled.
One of the elementals above her flashed, and turyn began to flow. The ground started to tremble. “I think you are,” she said firmly. “But if you think you need more time in your cage to think things over, I can arrange that for you.”
He bowed his head in defeat. “Fine, but only under protest.”
Isabel pulled something from under her cloak and pushed it into his arms. “Here. I’m tired of carrying this. It’s heavy.” It was the bag with his mail.
Will pushed it back. “That’s not mine.”
“You’re still a soldier,” she insisted. “I gave you this free of obligation.”
“I can accept no debts,” said Will, then he remembered what she had said about apologies. “It’s the way I was raised.”
Frustrated, Isabel glared at him. “I’m not carrying this for the entire trip. How much money do you have?”
Will frowned. “Six silver clima.”
She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”
Fishing around in his coin purse he found the money and held it out. “What do you want with it?”
Isabel took the coins from his hand and dropped the bag at his feet. “Sold. It’s yours now.”
“You paid thirty-seven gold for that,” argued Will. “You can’t—”
“I can do whatever I please,” she said, cutting him off. Her eyes drifted downward. “Are you going to leave that in the road? Should I add littering on the king’s road to your list of crimes?”
Annoyed, Will exhaled. “You are the most irritating person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting.” He bent and lifted the bag, settling its strap over his shoulder. “Come on.” He began walking down the trail.
She followed. “Where are we going? Is there some secret tunnel that leads through the mountains?”
“You’ll see.”
And indeed, she did. When they stopped beside the spring, Isabel’s eyes narrowed, studying the strange glimmer in the air. “That’s a congruence,” she said, speaking to herself. Her eyes went to his. “You don’t intend to—”
Will took her hand and pulled her through. Isabel froze, her eyes roaming across the wide grassland they were suddenly standing in. “William,” she said nervously. “Look at the flows. There’s too much. We’re in Faerie. Take us back!”
“Take yourself,” he said heartlessly. “My route goes through there.” He pointed at the cave in the rocks ahead.
She grabbed his arm. “You don’t understand. They’ll kill us. The fae hate outsiders. They hate us.”
“Relax,” he told her. “They won’t come here.” He began pulling her forward.
“Why? Why won’t they come here?” she demanded, her voice pitching upward as she fought against her panic.
He kept pulling, dragging her onward. “Because they’re afraid of the thing in that cave.”
“Why would they be afraid?”
Will nodded at a pile of bones they were walking past. “Because it eats them. Don’t worry, though. It won’t eat us.”
Isabel glared at him. “You are a warlock.”
“I have bargained neither blood, body, nor soul. Not mine nor anyone else’s.”
“Then what did you trade?” she demanded.
“He likes chicken eggs,” Will answered. “But that’s just the rent.”
“Rent?” she gaped. “You live here?”
“Not here,” he said, shaking his head. “On the other side. You’ll see.”
He had to coax her when they got to the cave. Isabel’s fear had become a palpable thing, and while he had rather enjoyed lording his familiarity with the dangerous area over her before, he began to feel slightly bad about it. “Just a little farther. We’re almost to the other congruence.”
Isabel’s steps were short and halting as he pulled her into the cave. As before, the darkness surrounded them, and he felt an ominous presence. Isabel seized hold of him when the rumbling began, burying her face against his chest.
“You brought one of them with you?” said a deep, alien voice, thick with menace.
Will was shocked. He had never known the goddamn cat to speak before. “You can talk?” he asked in surprise.
“The fae hate her kind,” said the Cath Bawlg, ignoring his question.
“And you hate the fae,” returned Will. “Shouldn’t that please you?”
“I hate her kind too. You tread on dangerous ground, wizard.”
“She’s not like the others,” said Will. “I need her help.”
A growl answered him, followed by a snuffling sound. “I have your scent now, sorcerer. Come here without him and I will suck the marrow from your bones. Betray us and I will hunt you unto the ends of the earth to extinguish your foul existence. Do you understand?”
“Y—yes,” she said, stumbling over the simple answer.
“Go.” And then the presence vanished.
Will led her to the congruence and took them across. Once they were in the Glenwood, Isabel took several steps before sinking to the ground, hugging her knees. She didn’t speak for several minutes. When she had regained her composure, she asked, “What was that thing?”
“The goddamn cat,” said Will.
“The what?”
“Grandfather called him that. He seems to like it.”
Isabel looked up at him. “Do you know what it is?”