The closeness of the rainforest began to pull away for long periods as the maccoton hunters pushed east. Challis could hear the faint sweep of more regular underbrush against the horses' legs and a firmness in step that meant they were out of the mud during these times. Open plains, then. No echoes or other indications that they were flanked by cliffs or slopes either, she realized. But just when she wondered whether they were out of the jungle for good, the filmy green smell and thick humidity would return to press the party closer together.

An entire day had passed since they had left the valley of insects.

Drunnel hadn't said a word to her except in short commands, and then only when they camped for the night. He cursed, quietly and often, and Challis couldn't stop wondering what kind of damage the insects had done to him. Remorse was far from her, but so was satisfaction. She hung somewhere in between in a daze of heat, raw aches, and small annoyances that only seemed to get worse as the hours plugged on.

Since Nadari had cut the bonds on her wrists, Challis did have the one freedom of her hands. Her mule's reins were nowhere to be found, but even being allowed to tie her hair back from her face was a relief. The vast world of her saddlebags was open to her too. Her canteen was still full, though lukewarm, and the rolls of cloth that she had meant to mend clothing were used for almost everything else, from tying around her forehead as a sweatband to tucking under the ropes to fight blisters. Then she discovered a fallen leaf in her lap.

Its surface was warm, smooth but rubbery enough to catch on her skin when she felt carefully along its length. A large vein ran down its middle to split it into a heart shape. Smaller grooves, barely tangible to her muck-roughened fingertips, fed off the large one and dissipated into the leaf's surface. The leaf was almost as big as her hand, surprisingly sturdy without any hint of curl on its clean, unbroken edges.

"Groffoco should find us this afternoon," Drunnel was muttering, and Challis heard a beep on her left. "If this damned screen will cooperate."

"Do you need to borrow mine, sir?" Thax's voice on the other side of him asked, an edge to its normally chipper tone. Challis was more than grateful for any and all distractions that drew Drunnel's attention away from her. Between talking to Drunnel and exploring a leaf, she would take the leaf.

"I told you, there's no –"

"I've been keeping it close in case it gets lost," Thax continued. "So close that it's in your breast pocket, Director."

"I'm aware of that." Drunnel dropped an oath and there was a short scuffling sound.

"You look like you're in a lot of pain." The other huffed a humorless laugh. "Maybe you're allergic to being half-eaten alive. It wasn't your idea, was it, sir?"

"Shut that fly trap of yours, Tofflar. That's an order."

"Yes, sir."

Three seconds of silence passed.

"Anyway," Thax went on. "The Chief cut me off from all other communications except to you, Director-in-chief, sir. You should be honored. I mean, we only planned out this expedition for two months at most. You wouldn't mind being my spokesperson to that lovely young lady on the thrike three rows behind us for two months, would you?"

"Eyes front," Drunnel growled.

"Whatever you say, sir."

The atmosphere opened back up into broad space, warm and wet with humidity that had flattened into stillness. Challis could taste a distant, chalky aroma with every breath, and wondered if rain, real rain, was on the way. She couldn't even guess how many miles they were from Oedolon. Her sense of distance, and direction, were completely shot. Though she hadn't let the thought surface since the arrest, it was gradually dawning on her that there was no way out anymore, except to finish the mission. Then there was at least the chance to get her and her father out of debt. Other than that, home only held arrest charges, Rasalas was gone, and everything beyond the two feet of space around her was unknown. She didn't even have a place to run away to.

She felt carefully around in her saddlebag and her hand closed around something. Maybe there was a way out. And her brother wasn't here to stop her this time.

"There they are," Drunnel's voice made her jerk her hand back, her insides quivering. "Perfect timing, too. If they didn't find us by the time we reached Hannowold we would have had to pitch camp here."

Challis thought of the thrikes growing into view over the treetops, the team that had left before half-light that morning. She lifted her head and reached out with her senses, spreading her awareness at the sky as if to catch the thrike patrol in her mind-net and pull them in. The open expanse condensed into five, then six, moving pieces of windblown energy that bounced through her head without solidifying or sharpening into any detail.

"Arrowhead formation?" Thax sputtered, aghast. "I get it for heavy mileage over the plains, but over civilized forest? That clotpuss Groffoco, I'm going to fill his boots with sap."

"He knows what he's doing, I'm sure," Drunnel's voice eased in.

"Apologies, sir, but like hell he does," Thax said. "That's my team he's juggling up there. Why Groffoco? He's got to be the least –"

"There's someone out there."

Thax stopped, and both he and Drunnel turned startled gazes on Challis.

She had leaned forward over the horn of her saddle, her head tilted like a cat's. Her eyes were half-closed, unfocused, and Thax got the impression that she was listening to everything within a two-mile radius. Again, he felt an unwelcome pressure on his chest, the same that he had felt before being attacked by a swarm of insects not twenty-four hours ago. He wouldn't admit to being afraid of anything, but even a Tofflar couldn't be expected to brush off such a bizarre unknown as this. What was she going to do this time?

"The thrike patrol, Challis," Drunnel said, annoyed. "No need to –"

"Someone on the ground." Her voice was hoarse, and urgent, and Thax realized he hadn't heard her say a word since yesterday until now.

"What?" Drunnel asked, cutting the word as short as a snap of his fingers.

He peered ahead, and Thax inadvertently tracked his eyes up to his approaching team. He yanked his reins hard as he stared. The leftmost thrike in the sky pitched off at a sharp angle, then collapsed in on itself as it plummeted down toward the treetops. With the rider.

"No!"

Challis jumped at the outcry, and underneath her Speck snorted and veered to the left when the Director's horse trampled to a stop. Behind, others did the same. Challis shuddered at the brittle cold that washed over her as the wounded thrike crashlanded into the depths of Dogoby's Reach.

"Back to the trees!" Officer Lars' strained voice came from somewhere in front of her. There was no need for a whistle, as it would ultimately give away their position. With Thax's shout still ringing in her ears, Challis heard Lars' command carry through the air in echoed whispers as everyone in the convoy wheeled back around toward the jungle.

Her world tumbled to the side as the mule broke into thudding, gallumping haste beside Drunnel's horse. The saddle jolted beneath her when she reacted badly and went stiff, her secured legs jerking whiplash up her spine. She grabbed at the front of the saddle and held on tight, bending low and trying to relax enough to roll with the motions as Speck fled back the way they had come.

When at last the wild, shaking movement stopped, Challis pressed her head between her hands in an effort to stop the vertigo. A tree trunk was shoved against her lower leg, and if it hadn't been for the stirrup, she was sure her foot would have been crushed between the tree and the unyielding mass that was the mule. She forced her breathing steady and tried to listen for what was happening, but all that filled her ears was the pounding blood rush of fear. In those two minutes, everything had changed: she didn't want to die.

A score of energy signals swarmed at the front of her awareness, stabbing in from all sides and pressing close enough to make her hold her breath and duck down over the front of the saddle, as if she expected a spear to come flying at her head.

"They're coming at us, Director," she gasped. She felt his eyes on her. "We need to go, now."

"Chief!" Drunnel called. "High alert."

"They won't be after us, they haven't even seen us," Thax said, his words tumbling over each other. "If those are Perraxis raiders, they'll mob that downed thrike. Request to take a rescue team forward, sir." His voice was too loud, Challis thought in a panic, until she heard other horses thud up closer. Chief Bosk grunted, his tone firm.

"Silence. We are not equipped to initiate ambush," he said. "Calstone and Vanner, intercept Groffoco and the rest and bring them around to the mountain trail. Director," he went on briskly, "best course of action is to wheel around and enter the city from the west. Do you suggest groups or in full?"

"We can't just back off, sir," Thax broke in again. The noise of two thrike handlers left to meet the remainder of Groffoco's patrol. "And I never said ambush."

"Tofflar," Drunnel snapped. "You have your orders."

"They just shot down one of my men!"

Challis stiffened at the following noise, which whipped through the air and smacked hard against what must have been the back of Thax's head. He let out a short bark of pain. Immediately afterwards, shouts broke out around them, followed by ululating war-cries in the surrounding trees.

"Not a move!" a throaty command roared over the clatter of weapons being drawn. "Drop them and show your hands!"

A thrike shrieked, its wings flapping a shock of wind that blew Challis' hair over her face. A twanging noise whizzed and thunked, and a heavy body tumbled to the dirt a moment later. Angry calls sounded but were silenced into heavy breathing. Horses and thrikes sent nickering grunts back and forth, and Challis slowly turned her head. The number of bodies had doubled around her, the field of awareness crackling with a tension that sent her heart racing in her chest. The raiders had surrounded them, barely two minutes after they had shot down the patrol.

"I said don't move!" the same voice came again. "Now, dismount. All of you. These are acauphine whistlers, drop you flat in two seconds."

"We're no threat to you," Chief Bosk said loudly, carefully. "I am Chief Luthio Bosk of the Franken Histology Foundation of Oedolon. We're not looking for trouble, merely safe passage into Hannowold."

"We know who you are."

Thax, his head still throbbing, tried to force his breathing steady and get his brain back into gear. He looked around for Onaya. He didn't know most of the horsemen, but even with six thrikes gone, plus the two that Bosk had sent after his team, he couldn't see Onaya anywhere. Merrol and Gleeson were gone too. Frustration weighed him down as he moved his gaze onto the surrounding raiders. Their horses were lean and quick, and so were the men. Each wore plated brown armor that crisscrossed over their torso front and back. Narrow faces sported beards lighter in color than the brown of their skin, and hairy arms were bare, even in the rainforest. Wait ­– he narrowed his eyes and looked closer. Each man, out of about thirty, had two dark bands of color striping a forearm. Narrow, nonreflective shields of nearly transparent material extended long enough to cover them from neck to knee.

Well, crapnoodles. That kind of technology sat so out-of-place on a band of raiders, especially on Perraxis horses, that they could only have fallen into a league with some foreign technology base, and recently. Any mention of, say, the FHF, was a bad idea. He wondered if Chief Bosk had noticed the shields, or if only his young eyes could see them.

They were only shielded on one side, however, as both arms were raised to point sleek black crossbows at him and everyone else in the party.

Thax had rolled to his feet after Punge was acauphine-whistled to the dirt. He stood with his hands up, but now slowly, very slowly, eased himself over next to Director Haske's mount. From that spot, as he had hoped, he was out of view from most of the raiders. Their eyes were flicking everywhere as their leader exchanged words with Bosk. Noise erupted as his comrades began to dismount from horse or thrike. In the activity, Thax reached toward the back of Drunnel's saddle just as the other was dismounting.

"Don't mind me, sir," he whispered, bent awkwardly to get at the right angle, and slid his hand into his sidearm.

What he wouldn't give for a cloud of bugs now, he thought.