Megan caught the subtle hint in the General’s words. There was no way of knowing how many invaders there had been, as that information hadn’t yet been gathered. If Samuel himself didn’t know the small details, how could General Hazaam, located more than a day’s ride away, know them himself? It could only mean one thing, she thought quickly to herself. Now that the suspicion was firmly cemented in her mind, she knew she had to play it safe.

The trick was to convince herself that she was overthinking it. If she allowed this sudden doubt to grow and fester in her mind, then she would inevitably betray herself with a careless word or gesture. Glancing quickly at her friends for some sign that they were doing the same quick thinking, she was a little surprised to find none. Feigning a look of respectful patience, she lowered her head as she turned her full attention back to the General.

“We may be students, sir,” she said reasonably. “But I do believe we’re capable.”

Michael turned to stare at her with slightly widened eyes. She could practically hear his thoughts, wondering if she’d gone crazy. Just play along, she thought at him, hoping that he’d get the message. Thankfully, he made no verbal argument to her statement. Rachel and Jordan, she was grateful to see, continued to face forward.

When the General didn’t say anything in reply, Megan pushed the matter further. “So, General, you know our request now. Will you allow the Queen this favor?”

General Hazaam seemed to weigh his response for several minutes in silence. Megan knew, given the claimed relationship with Milagre, there could only be one answer. To deny their request, or at least to appear to deny it, would be highly suspicious. His predecessors had all been great allies of Tyrman, and wouldn’t possibly say no to the Queen if she needed their help. All Megan had to do was let him make that decision. She could decide on her next course of action after that.

“Certainly,” The General said, lowering his head in the shadow of a bow. “It will be my honor to help the Queen and put her mind at ease.”

“That is great to hear!” Megan replied, forcing a cheery tone into her words. “We shall be camping outside the city, awaiting your word. Good night, General.”

She offered him a parting bow, and turned on her heel, heading straight for the door without so much as a word to her companions. Rachel and Jordan moved with her at once, but Michael hesitated for a second or two, his gaze switching between Megan and the General, a look of confusion on his face. Then he, too, followed Megan, turning with a swish of deep red robes.

“Miss Richards!” A voice sounded behind her. She hesitated long enough to see Seer David hurrying across the cobbles to their group. “Please wait!”

She obliged, stopping in her tracks as he caught up. He hunched over slightly, hands on his knees, catching his breath. Finally, with a perplexed look, he spread his arms. “Why not stay within Rabanul tonight? It would be more comfortable than sleeping in a tent.”

Megan started to refuse, to say that she preferred the outdoors over a bed indoors, then hesitated. She could feel the continuous effect of the truth spell washing over them, and she knew that this, being a lie, would put the man on his guard at once. So she approached it from another angle. “It may be more comfortable to be in a bed than on the ground, yes. But we are all capable of conjuring quite comfortable accommodations.”

“Okay, but surely you’d prefer to stay out of the elements?”

“We will be fine,” She said, trying to remain polite. “This way, you can enjoy the night with your families, and not be kept up with our presence.”

That convinced him, she thought. He was pretty young, no more than a few years older than she and her friends, so it was reasonable to assume that he had a young wife, or perhaps some other life partner to spend the night with. His disappointment at her refusal was genuine, she could see, but he was also slightly relieved. Accepting her rebuttal at face value, he dipped his head.

“Very well,” he said formally. “I wish you a good night’s rest. I will meet you again in the morning.”

She nodded, and continued moving, with the others following closely behind. They couldn’t get up to any trouble anyway, as there were always dozens of armed figures within sight as they headed towards the gate. Apparently, Seer David had decided that they were trustworthy, for their path was unblocked and they went unescorted. Each Black Hand spared the minimum amount of time to identify them as outsiders before continuing in whatever they were doing.

Did this mean that General Hazaam was alone in his cooperation with the Attosian invaders? Surely if he were implicit, he would bring his underlings in on the plan, to aid him. Then again, perhaps not. There was still a close relationship between the citizens of Rabanul and Milagre, iron-clad after centuries of co-existence. The lower ranks of Black Hands would have likely been recruited from Tyrman, so their loyalty wouldn’t be as questionable.

They reached the gate about ten minutes later, and Megan increased their pace, eager to be away from eavesdroppers. There was no longer a truth spell active on them, but she couldn’t be sure that the illusion magic, however it was performed, wasn’t still focused on them. She would get out of sight of the city before sharing her thoughts with the others. They collected their mounts from the stable and were soon cantering out under the portcullis.

The second she was free of the drawbridge, Megan urged her Stravian to move faster. It obliged at once, reaching a full gallop. She was faintly aware of shouts of surprise from her companions, then the clattering of hooves behind her began to increase as well, pulling them up even.

“What is going on, Megan?” Rachel called, having to pitch her voice to be heard over the dull drumming of hooves on the packed earth. “What did you figure out in his office?”

Megan didn’t answer her at first, merely tapping the side of her ear to indicate that she still thought they were being listened to. Only when they’d rounded the first proper curve, and the land sank down slightly to hide the fortress from their view, did she finally pull gently on her mount’s reins, bringing it slowly down from the fast gallop. She finally brought it to a proper stop and dismounted. She gestured for the others to do likewise and started to adjust straps on her saddle.

“We’ll shift the Stravia here,” she said shortly. “We need to get back to Milagre as soon as possible.”

“So you noticed what he said too, then,” Jordan replied. Megan nodded, and the larger youth immediately began shifting the straps of his own saddle. “I thought so. This doesn’t bode well.”

Rachel had begun working on her saddle as well, but Michael hadn’t moved after setting foot on the ground. He looked sternly at Megan, his posture stiff. He had agreed to Megan leading the party only reluctantly, and after Rachel had talked him into it. But now, behind on the conversation and not at all pleased to be riding again so soon, he gave in to his temper a little.

“Stop,” he said angrily. When Megan didn’t immediately comply, he took two long steps forward and gripped her forearm, stopping her movement. “I said stop! Tell me what’s going on!”

“Let her go, Michael,” Rachel said, her voice low and threatening. The tension of the moment was getting to them all, Megan thought. She made a pacifying gesture at her friend and stared Michael straight in the face. “It’s fine. General Hazaam is a traitor. That’s what’s going on. He already knows about the invaders, and is hiding them from us.”

“What?” Michael recoiled slightly, so shocked by her statement that he let go of her. His reaction was to be expected, as he had a lot of respect for the Black Hand. He’d told them earlier in the year that, if he hadn’t come to the College, he would have tried to earn a posting in Rabanul. “How could you possibly know that?”

“He knew how many invaders there were,” Jordan put in. He’d already finished shifting his own saddle and started working on Michael’s to save time.

Megan nodded her agreement, swinging back into her own saddle. It was now a little wider and didn’t fit as tightly on the mount’s frame. “Samuel needs to know about this as soon as possible, and we don’t want to wait around for the General to realize that we’re onto him.”

“You do realize,” Rachel added, “That they might have Stravia of their own. Or they could dispatch Dragon-kin troops to intercept us.”

Megan paused, halfway crouching so that she could whisper into her mount’s ear. That thought hadn’t occurred to her. “We don’t have a choice. We’ll just have to hope that they don’t, or trust that we can get a good head start.”

Michael didn’t look pleased, but he stomped over to his mount anyway and remounted. Jordan hopped into his saddle and gave Megan a reassuring nod. She bent over her Stravia’s neck, and whispered quietly into its ear, giving it the code word it was trained to react to. At once, it tossed its head and shrugged its mane. She loosened the grip she had with her legs, making sure that the beast was comfortable in the saddle as it began to transform.

The horse’s long muzzle was shrinking and broadening, and the ears were flattening against the skull. The Stravia shrank a few feet as well, and the body lengthened. She glanced back as the tail became smooth and split into two, holding her seat firmly as its legs changed. In the blink of an eye, the horse-like appearance was gone. She was now seated atop a large panther-like creature with scaly skin with long leathery wings that flared out just ahead of her knees, through the gap in the harness saddle that she’d opened for it. It let out a low, eager growl, and she patted its neck.

Making sure the others were ready, she pushed her arms through the small straps at the front of the saddle and gripped the handholds. Then she gave the Stravia a quick pat, and it leaped forward. These mounts were well-known for bursts of incredible speed in their transformed state. They had significantly less stamina but could cover ground as fast as a dragon. Her mount, leading the others, raced across the ground for several yards before jumping into the air, and taking flight with its large bat-like wings.

The wind whipped her in the face as the beast continued to climb, and she lowered her face against its flank, waiting for the rush to die down. After what felt like several minutes, the Stravia leveled out, beating its powerful wings as it flashed across the darkening sky. She felt it was safe to lift her head then and peer back at her allies. They were unstrapping their arms now and sitting up a little, propped up only by their forearms. Stravia weren’t exactly comfortable to ride when transformed, but their speed made up for the discomfort, and the sensation didn’t take long to adapt to.

Michael was taking the change as well as could be expected, his face locked into a tight scowl of discomfort. Rachel sat gracefully enough and smiled reassuringly as Megan looked at her. Jordan, of course, was a dragon-kin, and so had obviously flown many times in his life, despite being wingless himself. He sat at his ease, his gaze casting through the dark night, his sharp eyes picking out features of the land around them with more ease than Megan could ever hope for.

There was a sharp sense of pleasure in Megan’s heart as they flew away from Rabanul, heading straight for the capital. They’d gotten away clean, she thought. By this time tomorrow, Samuel would know all about her suspicions, and she could go back to preparing for the Exchange. As soon as she had the thought, she felt a tingling on her spine that usually came before trouble. Sure enough, there was Jordan’s voice, raised in warning, to confirm her doubt.

There were two figures, barely visible to her human eyes, following them at top speed. It was also obvious that their Stravia were a good deal faster, and they would catch up in no time. Megan cursed under her breath, unstrapped her arms, and withdrew the wand Samuel had given her from its sheath on her arm. The approaching figure was clearly a Black Hand, and their presence couldn’t be friendly.