The thin priest leaned in front of her and peered out the window. “There is, Princess. It’s too early for such a color. There must be some sort of blight.”

Tanalasta frowned. “Across the whole heath?”

“So it appears.”

Tanalasta thrust her head out the window. “Stop the carriage!”

Merula scowled and reached for his own drape to countermand the order, but Tanalasta caught his arm.

“Do you really want to challenge the command of an Obarskyr, wizard?”

The wizard knitted his bushy eyebrows indignantly. “The royal magician’s orders were clear. We are to stop for nothing until we have cleared the mountains.”

“Then proceed on your own, by all means,” Tanalasta retorted. “Vangerdahast does not command me. You may remind him of that, if he is listening.”

The carriage rumbled to a stop, and a footman opened the door. Tanalasta held out her hand to Dauneth.

“Will you join me, Warden?”

Dauneth made no move to accept her hand. “Merula is right, milady. These mountains are no place-“

“No?” Tanalasta shrugged, then reached for the footman’s hand. “If you are frightened…”

“Not at all.” Dauneth was out the door in an instant, jostling the footman aside and offering his hand to Tanalasta. “I was only thinking of your safety.”

“Yes, you did say you have reason to concern yourself with me.”

Tanalasta gave the Warden a vinegary smile, then allowed him to help her out of the coach, prompting a handful of peasants to gasp and bow so low their faces scraped ground. Outside, it was a warm mountain afternoon with a sky the color of sapphires and air as dry as sand, and the princess was disappointed to note they had already crossed most of the heath. The foot of Worg Pass lay only a hundred paces ahead, where the barley fields abruptly gave way to a stand of withering pine trees.