“How are you doing?” Miranda asked, pulling the girl’s hood up and tightening the broach holding her cloak.

“My feet are cold,” she said. The child’s voice was little more than a whisper as she stared down at the snow.

“So are mine,” Miranda replied in the brightest tone she could muster.

“Ah, well, that was fun, wasn’t it?” the old professor said while climbing the slope to join them. He puffed large clouds and shifted the satchel over his shoulder, his beard and eyebrows thick with snow and ice.

“And how are you doing?” Miranda asked.

“Oh, I’m fine, fine. An old man needs a bit of exercise now and again, but we need to keep moving.”

“Where are we going?” Mercy asked.

“Aquesta,” Arcadius replied. “You know what Aquesta is, don’t you, dear? That’s where the empress rules from a big palace. You’d like to meet her, wouldn’t you?”

“Will she be able to stop them?”

Miranda noticed the little girl’s gaze had shifted over the old man’s shoulder to the burning university. Miranda looked as well, watching the brilliant glow rising above the treetops. They were many miles away now, and yet the light still filled the horizon. Dark shadows flew above the fire’s light. They swooped and circled over the burning university, and from their mouths spewed torrents of flame.

“We can hope, my dear. We can hope,” Arcadius said. “Now let’s keep moving. I know you’re tired. I know you’re cold. So am I, but we have to go as fast as we can. We have to get farther away.”

Mercy nodded or shivered. It was difficult to discern which.

Miranda dusted the snow from the child’s back and legs in an attempt to keep her from getting wetter than she already was. This drew a cautious glare from Mr. Rings.