Tristan let go a sigh of relief. Shailiha ran to greet them. Faegan and Jessamay beamed back with the sheer joy of being alive. Embarrassed by Shailiha’s enthusiastic embrace, Wigg cleared his throat, then busily smoothed out the hem of his singed robe.

While the cottage remains crackled and burned, Tristan, Ox, and Traax walked over. By now the warriors hiding in the woods had joined them. Faegan gave Tristan a conspiratorial wink, but it was clear that theJin’Sai was not amused. The prince crossed his arms over his chest.

“I’d say you three have some explaining to do,” he said. “How did you manage to survive that explosion?”

“We managed to take cover behind the rear wall, which we strengthened with the craft.” Obviously pleased with himself, Faegan smiled again.

Shailiha scowled. “I don’t understand,” she protested. “How did you know that there would be an explosion? And what made you believe that you would be able to get out in time? It must have been close!”

“Indeed,” Wigg answered.

As the First Wizard and Jessamay walked closer, the others could see that their hair and clothing had been singed. The Paragon-the bloodred jewel that helped to empower both sides of the craft-hung securely from a gold chain lying around Wigg’s neck. Seeing that the gemstone was safe, Tristan finally relaxed.

“When we stormed the cottage, we saw two men sitting at a table,” Wigg added. “I recognized them as onetime consuls of the Redoubt. When a ball of energy started to form between them, I wasted no time in causing the windows to blow out so we could run for cover. We were lucky, but the two consuls died immediately. I think that was their intent from the beginning. I am sorry to see them perish. They might have told us much.”

Reaching down into one knee boot, Tristan retrieved a ragged piece of parchment. He held it to the moonlight as he glanced down the page.