The camp was quiet by night but alert, and without the pouring rain of the night of their arrival, it would be much harder to penetrate without raising the alarm. Guards kept watch on the perimeter and at specific points throughout the camp. The snores of sleeping soldiers, muffled by their bedding and the tent canvas, accompanied Kite's careful approach in between two of the perimeter guards. Preserving her limited capacity, she did not try any magic to smuggle herself past the guards, but instead chose an area on the other side of the camp from which she'd approached, where bushes and shrubs grew close to the nearest tent. She waited there until the nearest guards were looking away, then slipped quickly beneath their combined inattention and concealed herself behind the tent. Taking her time, sneaking from tent to tent and occasionally going through the uninhabited storage marquees, she made her way to the centre of the camp, where Saryth was held, the tent guarded by the veteran who wanted so much to be at home.

It was easy to pick out, being one of two tents that were both guarded and situated near the centre, with the other the command tent. She ghosted as close as she dared then, gathering what small magic she could muster, she drew the sigil for sleep in the air in front of the guard. It was a weak spell, limited not just by her own capacity but also by her tiredness and worry, but it worked anyway, aided by the man's own weariness. It had been a long day for them all. He yawned, and crumpled gently to the ground. Kite regretted leaving him with his head in the mud, but he was at least on his back, so would not get a faceful of it. She hurried past and into the tent.

Saryth lay in the centre on a mess of sacking, fully clothed still, although they'd taken his boots off in order to get the shackles round his ankles. He had not, as she had feared, been beaten further, although Padraic's efforts had come up in deep red on his right cheekbone. A gentle probe of his side revealed further bruising where he had been kicked, but thankfully there was no indication of a broken rib. She pulled the gag from his mouth, but, trusting the commander's word, didn't bother trying to wake him. Instead, she tied his boots to her belt, shoved her staff through her belt as well, and bent down to hoist her unconscious friend onto her shoulders. He didn't weigh as much as he should have, but he was still heavy; she felt her knees buckle as she settled him as comfortably as she could. Finally, she laid the best obfuscation spell she could manage on them both, pushing away the heartfelt wish for even a small helping of Saryth's prodigious talent for illusion.

The route out was tortuous, ducking behind tents as she had done on the way in, but with the staff and Saryth making everything twice as hard. The obfuscation spell helped, but it would not protect them from detection if a guard actually looked at them. She waited by the last tent for the guards to look the other way before bolting for the bushes as fast as she could, so burdened. Somehow it worked, despite the noise she couldn't avoid making. She sat in the bushes, Saryth dumped unceremoniously on the ground beside her, breathing heavily and waiting for the alarm to be raised, but everything was silent. Did the commander do that too? Surely not...

The stars wheeled overhead, the guards paced back and forth and exchanged quiet mutters, and the bushes rustled as startled animals resumed their cautious foraging. By her side, Saryth breathed steadily, and when she felt able again, she hoisted him back on her shoulders and crept away from the camp, protected from sight now by the bushes which edged into trees. She reached the treeline unchallenged, until -

"Stop!" A low command, a voice she recognised. Kite bit her lip, turned, and saw Padraic, coming up behind her and looking furious. His drawn sword was an unspoken menace, glinting bright in the moonlight.

"Padraic."

"Put the nyechist down, and I'll let you pass." He kept his voice quiet, probably because he, like her, was not supposed to be out here.

"What will you do with him?" She let the unknown insult slide.

"What do you think? I'll take him back. Or I'll deal with him now." His voice was horribly calm for someone apparently ready to kill an unconscious man. "What's a few hours?"

"You have no right to his life."

"I have every right!" Padraic shot back with a snarl. "After what he did -"

"Don't you ever think?" Kite snapped, exasperated.

"Put him down!"

"He did it because your sister cried!" Kite may have been annoyed with Saryth for not thinking about his actions, but she understood full well why he had done it. "Who was hurt by what he did? He stopped the fight!"

Padraic looked uncertain for an instant, then stepped forward, thrusting his blade to within striking distance of Kite's face.

"He has been sentenced to death."

"Padraic!" Lyra came running from behind him, to put herself between Kite and her brother.

"Lyra!" He sounded shocked. How long had she been listening, Kite wondered. What had she heard?

"Stop it! Please, stop it!" Lyra was crying. "Let him go. He made a mistake."

"But -"

"Davaith died yesterday. Saryth stopped everyone else dying." For now. Kite couldn't help the thought. How long will it take to get more firegems?

"He destroyed the firegems!"

"So what? They can be replaced. You can't. Please..."

Padraic hesitated, wavered. Then his blade dropped, and he lowered his eyes. "Very well. Because my sister asked." He gestured to the woods. "Go on, get out."

As Kite passed, he glared coldly at her, but she took the time to stop by Lyra and say, quietly, "Thank you."

"When he wakes up," Lyra said, "tell him I said thank you too."

"I will. Strength to you both."