"You lied to me." The commander stood in his tent, back to his... prisoner? Certainly not guest, any more. His tone was neutral, giving her no clues as to what would come.

"I did not lie." She had been very careful not to break that code of truth.

"You were economical with the truth. You played with words just like wizards do." And that was true, and Kite felt a surge of guilt at the way she had, deliberately indeed, misled him. Lies of omission, of implication, were still lies.

"I'm sorry," she said miserably, and half turning, he waved a hand at her.

"Take a seat."

He waited until she had hooked one of the stools that littered the edge of the tent, and placed it in front of his desk. Perched on it, off balance and lower than he, sat at his desk, she felt at a distinct disadvantage even without the situation as it was. That was no doubt intentional.

"Your companion will be sentenced to death," he started bluntly. "That is unavoidable, even had he not brought down our flyers. You are lucky he brought down the enemy flyers, too. Otherwise he - and maybe you - would have been lynched by now." Kite sat silently, not protesting Saryth's reasons for his actions. She rather thought the commander understood them, but he had already said there was no other option for her friend.

"Despite what you have said and been party to," he continued, "I am minded to let you go. First, listen to what I have to say. Let it be a warning."

Catching the undertone, Kite listened carefully.

"Your friend is held in chains in the centre of the camp. Because he is a sorcerer, he has been drugged. The drug used would give him the grandfather of all headaches, were he to wake... but his sentence will be carried out tomorrow. He will be beheaded by my hand at sunrise."

Looking at his face as he said this, Kite did not think he was looking forward to the deed. She felt numb, as though someone else was hearing a sentence being pronounced on her friend, as though this was a dream. This was not what I had expected when I left Alt Dunmere. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Executions and war, deaths and fighting. It shouldn't have been like this.

"The tent is guarded by my most trusted men. The man on watch tonight is a veteran of thirty years' service. Nothing but foul sorcery could distract him from his duty." It's not normal to give this much information away. Kite mentally paged back to his accusations; you played with words, the commander had said. And if he knows I lied by implication, he knows I am also...

"Were such a thing to happen, of course, he would be dismissed - with honour, of course, for it would hardly be his fault, but nonetheless, such a lapse could not be ignored. He is a good soldier. He was about to retire when this war started. He has two grandchildren he has never seen, and his youngest daughter got married in his absence. But enough of him." The commander sat up straight and glared directly at Kite. "You had better be gone by morning. You may leave. This time, heed my words."

Kite did; both the ones he had said, and those he had carefully left unsaid. Feeling in control again, which itself was an unexpected gift, she bowed to the commander in acknowledgement of his grace.

"I understand. Thank you. Thank you very much." She turned to go, and hesitated. "I'm sorry for the trouble we caused."

The commander watched her go, and sighed.

Walking through the camp, Kite felt all eyes on her, eyes which flicked away whenever she returned their gaze. She walked faster, staying well away from the grounded flyers and from anything else that looked important. The rain was gone, the clouds blown over, the sky grey to match the mood in the camp and in the farmhouse where Padraic, Lyra and Fiona were standing as though waiting for her. Kite paused in the doorway; Fiona looked sad, Padraic angry. Lyra simply looked away.

"May I enter?" Kite requested formally. "I need to collect our things. I'll leave once I've done that."

"Please," Fiona said, and behind her Lyra sobbed once. Padraic started out from behind his mother.

"What - are you both leaving?" His tone wavered between anger and disbelief.

"Saryth is sentenced to be executed tomorrow at sunrise," Kite said flatly. "Is that what you wanted to know?" Padraic glared at her and she met his eyes; he was the first to look away. Released, she headed for the stairs, and Fiona reached out timidly to touch her shoulder.

"Kite... I'm sorry." Then as Kite carried straight on without responding, she added, "are you just going to leave?"

In the basement, Kite packed her bags and wound her hair up into the two buns that kept it out of the way when travelling. She donned her cloak, picked up her precious, crucial staff, and gathered Saryth's cloak, the only thing he'd left behind. The warmth of the basement was a benediction after the cold outside, and she was reluctant to leave, but a strange sort of excitement was beginning to make itself felt. The same as when she had escaped Corwaith Keep with Saryth. She almost smiled.

Walking out of the farmhouse, she paused at Fiona's quiet, "Kite...?" On the doorstep, she turned and bowed deeply.

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," she said, and in answer to the earlier question, "I am, indeed, just leaving now."

She walked away without looking back, but she heard Lyra's plaintive question and Fiona's response.

"Why did he do it, mummy?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know."

Kite walked out of the camp, and the soldiers watched her go. She didn't think the commander would simply let her go without having a watch on her, at least for a little while, whatever his intentions actually were, so she carried on for over an hour before stopping in a small wood by the road. The ground beneath the young trees was mostly dry, and she curled up underneath the largest tree to drowse and wait for evening.