“Stop,” Dag breathed.

A nearly soundless query from his right.

“We’ll be up on them over this rise. What you can see, can see you, and if there’s anything over there with groundsense, you’ll look like a torch in the trees. Stop it down, boy.”

A grunt of frustration. “But I can’t see Razi and Utau. I can barely see you.

You’re like an ember under a handful of ash.”

“I can track Razi and Utau. Mari holds us all in her head, you don’t have to.

You only have to track me.” He slipped behind the youth and gripped his right shoulder, massaging. He wished he could do both sides together, but this touch seemed to be enough; the flaring tension started to go out of Saun, both body and mind. “Down. Down. That’s right. Better.” And after a moment, “You’re going to do just fine.”

Dag had no idea whether Saun was going to do well or disastrously, but Saun evidently believed him, with appalling earnestness; the bright anxiety decreased still further.

“Besides,” Dag added, “it’s not raining. Can’t have a debacle without rain.

It’s obligatory, in my experience. So we’re good.” The humor was weak, but under the circumstances, worked well enough; Saun chuckled.

He released the youth, and they continued their climb.

“Is the malice there?” muttered Saun.

Dag stopped again, bending in the shadows to hook up a plant left-sided. He held it under Saun’s nose. “See this?”

Saun’s head jerked backward. “It’s poison ivy. Get it out of my face.”

“If we were this close to a malice’s lair, not even the poison ivy would still be alive. Though I admit, it would be among the last to go. This isn’t the lair.”

“Then why are we here?”

Behind them, Dag could hear the men from Glassforge topping the ridge and starting down into the ravine out of which he and the patrol were climbing.