The Bishop, deep in thought, strolled through the courtyard gardens of Castle Aquila - his very own sumptuous and heavily guarded private domain - as if enjoying the warm afternoon sunshine were the only thing on his mind.

Roses and chrysanthemums stilled bloomed in profusion in the shelter of the gardens, conveying the impression that - as with everything under the Bishop's purview - nature itself was perfectly ordered and completely under human control.

The Bishop was accompanied as usual by his personal bodyguard and his secretary, both following at a discreet distance so as not to intrude while they waited to be of some service. That did not mean that the Bishop was unaware of their presence, or their covert scrutiny - outside his private chambers, he was on constant display, and his long years of playing politics as he rose through the Church had taught him never to reveal anything to anyone that he did not knowingly choose to reveal.

He glanced up and over as the sound of heavily booted feet treading on stone broke into his not-entirely-peaceful reverie - Captain Sykes, hurrying towards him along one of the garden paths.

The Bishop's mouth tightened involuntarily. He had not forgotten for one single moment the alarm that had interrupted Mass that morning, and the as-yet-unsolved problem it had announced, but he could not, would not, let even his trusted Captain see his concern. The exercise of complete power required the semblance of complete confidence and control, whatever the actual truth of the matter might be.

"I have urgent and alarming news, Your Grace," Sykes burst out as he came to a halt before the Bishop, the breach of etiquette in both acts belying his seemingly composed demeanor.

The Bishop eyed him coldly, patience even further strained by the breach of decorum. "You forget yourself, Captain Sykes."

Sykes froze as he realized his mistake - it did not do to disrespect the Bishop, even by accident. He dropped smoothly to his knees in practiced obeisance, kissing the emerald ring on the hand that the Bishop held out to him.

None of that could save him from the wrath that his next act was sure to incur, but he continued on anyway. "Forgive me, Your Grace. One of the prisoners has escaped the dungeons, and I thought it best to alert you as soon as possible."

The Bishop removed his hand, eyes no warmer than they had been mere moments before. "No one escapes the dungeons of Aquila, Captain. The people of this town have come to accept that as a matter of historical fact."

Sykes swallowed convulsively, beginning to sweat under the strain of the Bishop's displeasure. "My men are investigating as we speak. Until such time as we understand exactly what happened, I accept full responsibility for the situation."

"Yes," the Bishop murmured, "I'm sure you do."

Sykes, detecting what he hoped was a slight softening in the Bishop's tone, finally dared to lift his eyes. "To put it all into proper perspective, Your Grace, it would take a miracle to get through those sewers alive."

"I believe in miracles, Captain," the Bishop reminded him. "They are an integral component of my faith."

"Of course, Your Grace," Sykes temporized. "I merely meant that the situation is not as dire as it might seem. The escaped prisoner is a minor thief, little better than street trash, and not likely to evade us for long."

The Bishop's eyes went even colder, his tone becoming even more biting. "A slight breeze can herald a deadly storm, Captain Sykes. A single errant spark can create the fire that destroys an entire city."

The holy man looked away as his voice trailed off, and his eyes grew distant. It was as if he saw something no one else could, or held some secret, otherworldly knowledge that no mere mortal could hope to possess, much less comprehend. The effect, as always, was supremely unnerving.

Sykes rose to his feet, jaw set in determination. "If the thief is out there, Your Grace, my men and I will find him."

The Bishop stared into his Captain's eyes, his own eyes narrowing as he took the measure of the man before him. "Since you have my blessing in your endeavor, my son, I can only envy your inevitable success in rectifying this matter."

Sykes nodded his head like a schoolboy grateful for his own chastening, no longer trusting himself to meet the gaze of the Bishop in his gleaming white vestments. He knew - far better than most - that the man did not hold his position of power through simple cunning, or even just the questionable grace of God.

Turning on his heel, Sykes walked away as swiftly as dignity and composure would allow. He was not ashamed to admit to himself that the Bishop was the one man able to utterly terrify him, but he knew better than to let the Bishop, or anyone else, learn as much.

The Bishop watched his Captain Of The Guard retreat. Only after the man was out of sight did he dare to let his own apprehension show, fingering the great black diamond on his hand as one eyelid twitched in a nervous tic. Something about this entire unprecedented mess ran much deeper than any of them could see, and he severely disliked not knowing what it was...

Walter Sykes, having sensed that scrutiny as he left his uncomfortable audience, mounted his horse and rode away as if the hounds of Hell themselves were at his heels. His men, so far, had found no sign of that God-forsaken thief, and - while he cared little enough whether his men got punished for the escape - he had too much invested here to risk losing the Bishop of Aquila's favor permanently.

The thief was almost certainly dead by now, even though they'd had no luck finding his corpse. Still, on the slim chance that the bastard had truly escaped after all, Sykes called his men back together and began to lay out a plan for searching the countryside surrounding the city.

They gathered at the base of the curved bridge by the city gates, a motley group of men on horseback surrounding an ox-cart loaded with the supplies that would let them range further out in their search. Sykes fought to conceal his impatience as Marcus Diamond, his second-in-command, rode up, obviously having nothing good to report to his superior.

"Take ten men with you and ride toward Chenet," Sykes ordered Marcus. "I'll head north, toward Gavroche."

The sun was already starting to set, and there would be little enough time to search anywhere before nightfall. Fortunately, the men awaiting their orders were at least passably capable, comprehending the orders he continued issuing with a minimum of questioning and repetition.

Standing in his stirrups to see over the gathered group, Sykes searched for the supply cart, then spurred his mount toward it. Behind him, completely unnoticed, a small, waterlogged shadow, still dripping as it went, darted out from the shadows beneath the nearby bridge and slipped completely undetected beneath the legs of the guards' milling horses.

"You two," Sykes called out, addressing the pair of soldiers in the supply cart. "Take the supplies - we'll need them."

The unseen shadow slipped under the supply cart and then disappeared as Sykes pulled his horse up beside it. "We'll all meet outside the gates of Gavroche at noon tomorrow. Do *not* be late."

Sykes turned to look over the waiting men, his eyes as hard and cold as ever. "The name of the man who finds Joshua Donovan - also known as The Mouse - will be personally brought to the attention of the Bishop. So will the corpse of the man who lets Donovan get away!"

He watched his words find their mark in the time it took Marcus to gather his men and gallop off toward Chenet - he was momentarily struck by the sparks under their horses' hooves and the notion that he'd put that fire beneath them. Then, he jerked his own mount around toward the north and led his own men off at an equally impressive speed.

The pair of guards left to manage the supply cart merely looked at each other and shrugged - they had no need to hurry like everyone else, though they wouldn't be doing themselves any favors by dawdling there. The driver cracked his whip and the oxen yoked to the creaky old cart lurched forward as they started pulling it down the worn, rutted road.

Wedged up underneath the ox-cart, feet jammed into the rear corner joints, Claudia clung to its mud-spattered underside like a burr. She smiled as the cart finally began to move, then winced instead as she held on for dear life while groping with battered fingers for a better handhold.

A loose board in the bottom of the cart gave unexpectedly as she pushed against it during her explorations. She grinned and pushed the board aside, not one to ignore a potential boon simply because she didn't yet know how it could be of use.

Pushing her arm up through the gap, she let her hand search blindly - albeit carefully - amongst the supplies in the back of the cart. Her heart leapt when her fingers closed over something both instantly and unmistakably recognizable - the pouch full of coins she'd spotted hanging from the driver's belt earlier as she'd moved to her current hiding place.

Tugging gently on the strings with the skill born of years of practice, she paused automatically as the second guard began to speak.

"Poor bastard's dead, if you ask me," he muttered sullenly. "We're out here chasing a ghost."

Claudia paused to grin, then went back to working on the strings of the money pouch. The strings were tied far too tightly for her to do anything with, though, and she clenched her hands in frustration before carefully beginning a search of the rest of the driver's belt.

"Careful," the driver warned, and Claudia froze.

"They say the Bishop leaves all his windows open at night," the driver continued. "And that the voices of anyone who complains are brought to him on a black cloud."

Claudia just rolled her eyes at the driver's superstitious nonsense even as her fingers finally closed around his dagger, conveniently dangling right next to the money pouch on his belt. She slid it free of its sheath undetected, with skill also born of long years of practice, then used it to deftly cut the strings of the money pouch - both purse and dagger then disappeared through the gap in the floorboards without a single sound.

The passenger had finally quit laughing at the driver's absurd warning long enough to reply. "If His Grace can really hear me, then I have a message for him. Close the damn window!"

With that, the passenger passed gas, loudly and deliberately. Both soldiers began guffawing like idiots, and Claudia was torn between laughing with them and being completely disgusted.

Instead, she turned her attention to the money pouch, managing to open it and give it a shrewd once-over despite her precarious position under the cart. She smiled at her good fortune - she could live honestly for a good while on the money she'd just stolen - then felt a sudden twinge of guilt as she glanced up and saw the sliver of clear blue sky visible through the gap in the floorboards.

"Yeah, I know, I promised," she muttered to herself. "But I think we can both agree that I'm a little short on options here, Lord, and there's that whole 'helping those that that help themselves' thing. No worries, though - I'm happy to pay whatever penance You want to make this up to You."

Pausing a moment to ensure she had the timing just right, Claudia let go of the cart while also pulling her feet clear of the corners she'd had them braced against. The maneuver dropped her silently to the ground under the ox-cart, perfectly positioned for it to simply roll over her tiny frame without touching her in the slightest. The cart and its occupants, none the wiser, simply continued on as they had before, jolting away into the approaching twilight.

Claudia rolled to her knees and looked around, just in time to see the final rays of the sun slip behind the distant hills she sought. Somewhere entirely too close by for comfort, a wolf howled at the coming darkness, and the desolate, haunted sound echoed eerily across the land. Claudia glanced around with a shudder to find that the wolf was nowhere in sight - a good thing, she imagined, as there had been something almost human about that lupine wail of grief - and strode off in search of shelter for the night.

For the next two days, Claudia lived the sort of life she would have imagined for that poor wolf she'd heard howling. The men of the Bishop's Guard were everywhere, sweeping across the countryside like a new species of vermin, stirring up the hill folk with talk of vast reward for her capture and equally profound punishment for helping her in any way.

Frankly, Claudia couldn't quite credit the thoroughness and intensity of the search. They had to be spending more in gold and manpower in their frighteningly single-minded pursuit than she could ever possibly hope to steal in a year.

Whatever the reasoning behind their search, the presence of the Bishop's Guard meant that she didn't dare show her face at even the poorest peasant's hovel. By day, she fled through the forest, surviving on whatever leaves and berries and half-rotten leavings she could forage; by night she slept in trees, shivering and hungry, as she sought to avoid the equally pitiless hunters of the forests.

It was disheartening and infuriating. She had money enough to buy herself everything she needed - food, shelter, warm clothing - but didn't dare spend a single coin, and couldn't risk getting close enough to anyone's home to simply steal what she lacked.

Even the weather seemed determined to work against her. The skies that had remained stubbornly clear of rain, despite every prayer sent up begging for it, suddenly (and seemingly permanently) filled with storm clouds - clouds that unleashed a cold, never-ending torrent down on Claudia's head, backed by a sudden biting autumn wind.

By the second night, Claudia was beginning to wonder, at least a little, if it had all been worth it. She sat huddled in the crook of an ancient tree, under a nearly useless shelter of woven branches. Clinging to the tree with one numbed hand, as the rain poured down relentlessly, she tried to make herself eat the shriveled turnip held in her free hand - finally, as her stomach knotted and threatened to rebel, she gave up and simply tossed the half-eaten mess away in disgust.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the tree, accepting the completeness of her present misery but still trying to imagine the better world that must surely exist beyond her current one. It had to be out there, somewhere, and she could find it if only she believed hard enough - smiling, she began trying to imagine what that better world must be like.

The first thing she decided on was that the sun must certainly be shining, its gentle, warming rays falling on rich and poor alike.

"It's summer," she murmured aloud, "always summer, and the sun is shining off the water."

The conjured sight was beautiful - blue sky filled with puffy white clouds, all reflected on the dancing surface of a cool, clean lake. As she pictured the lake, she couldn't help adding in a pair of young lovers, slowly strolling around the lake as they enjoyed the gorgeous day together. The young woman - absolutely perfect in every way, of course - gazed up at her companion adoringly, and he, handsome and equally perfect, gazed back with complete devotion...

Claudia woke in the morning to find that the weather, at least, had relented somewhat, and her hopes rose again in the bright sunlight now surrounding her. She even had the strength to laugh at herself a little as her body protested the climb down from her perch, as if it belonged to an arthritic old man rather than a young girl. Stretching to work the worst of the kinks out, she gulped down a handful of foraged berries and set back out into the woods.

The day remained sunny as she traveled, eventually becoming quite warm for fall, and she began to dry out for the first time in two days - this made her incredibly happy, despite highlighting exactly how filthy she still was.

Around noon, she found herself at a solitary cottage that looked to be at least momentarily empty. Sneaking in, she was hit by the heavenly aroma of fresh-baked bread, rivaled only by the underlying tang of freshly made soap. Claudia remained only long enough to grab some of both before she was off again and back into the woods.

Pausing just long enough to clean her hands, she scarfed down the bread as she sat in a patch of sunlight on the banks of a small river. She only realized after the fact that she had forgotten to say grace before eating, but she rather figured that was a forgivable offense. Basking in the sun after her first real meal in longer than she cared to think about, it was hard to fear much of anything, much less the God she was pretty sure had sent the food her way in the first place.

God had definitely been showing her a little kindness and mercy today, she realized as she went over it in her mind. There had not been a single sign of the Bishop's Guard all morning, and she began to let herself hope that she had finally outrun them - or perhaps they'd merely given up the hunt for a lowly thief as pointless. She'd hardly be insulted if they had...

Claudia decided - just in case the reprieve was only temporary - to make the most of the peace and quiet by getting herself cleaned up. The rain, providing its own silver lining, had helped wash quite a bit of the dirt and filth from both her body and her clothes, but the job was far from complete. Her clothes were even more ragged now than they had been to start with, but she was pretty sure that they were still passable enough if she could get them washed out.

With luck, she could steal some better clothes to wear if her own were still too obviously tattered once she was done tending to them. If she could make herself look presentable enough, the money she'd taken would let her pass herself off as an honest traveler rather than a hunted fugitive. A smile spread across her face as she pictured herself holed up at some nice inn for the night - a bowl of thick, hot stew to fill her stomach, enough mulled wine to shake the chill from her bones, and a soft, warm, clean bed to sleep in once food and drink had worked their magic on her.

The smile faded a bit as Claudia dipped a hand into the water at the river's edge and was reminded of how cold it was. Still, it wasn't unmanageably so, and the urge to scrub every inch of her skin - along with her hair - until it squeaked was almost overwhelming.

Locating a nice warm rock well-hidden by rushes and weeds, Claudia began to strip down for her bath. She grimaced a little as the coarse cloth of her shirt scraped against the nearly healed welts on her back - she'd led the Bishop's Guard on a merry chase for weeks until her complacency had finally allowed them to catch up with her, and they'd made her pay for every single day she'd evaded them.

Fortunately, she reminded herself as she unwrapped the cloth binding down her breasts, they hadn't beaten her in such a way as to break her ruse of being a boy. The thought of what *that* would have brought on in addition didn't even bear thinking about.

"You were seriously tested, kiddo, but you beat them all," she said to herself, grinning triumphantly, before looking up to the skies. "With a little divine assistance, of course."

Forcefully pushing any further dark thoughts away, she quickly removed the rest of her clothing and slid into the cold water, soap in hand. It wasn't quite as uncomfortable as she'd imagined - the water actually felt pretty good once she got used to it, and there was absolutely nothing that could take away from the feeling of being truly clean for the first time in what had to be weeks now.

At one point while working on scrubbing out her clothes, she caught sight of her face reflected on the water's surface and paused to study it a moment - at first glance, an understandably and not unpleasantly unkempt mop of red hair framed a pair of almond-shaped brown eyes that currently sparkled with amusement.

The face framed by that same tangle of hair wasn't entirely unpleasant either, Claudia decided. It was still a little scratched and sported a couple still-healing bruises, but her skin was otherwise clear and the underlying bone structure quite refined for someone of her low birth.

For a moment, she entertained a dual fantasy - one in which she was, in fact, the boy she pretended to be, and another in which was she was still a girl posing as a boy. In either scenario, she was secretly the lost child of some noble family, stolen away at birth by an evil nurse for some nefarious reason but lost before the plan could come to fruition.

Her parents - nobles both, of course - had no idea that their lost infant yet lived, but were nonetheless overjoyed to learn the truth, welcoming their poor unfortunate child back into their arms. They would all search each other's faces for signs of familial resemblance - she'd have her mother's hair and cheekbones, perhaps, and her father's eyes...

Claudia - now donning her wet but clean clothes, as she didn't have time to let them sit and dry - was yanked out of her fantasy by a sudden noise from the nearby trees. A quick glance showed her all she needed to recognize the danger - two men on horseback, both wearing the unmistakeable uniform of the Bishop's Guard, were casually working their way downhill toward the water's edge. Praying they hadn't seen her yet - and now grateful her clothes had not yet dried after all - Claudia took a deep breath and scurried into the water, hiding herself beneath its surface.

Marcus Diamond and a second guardsman rode to the river's edge through all the weeds and rushes. Once they stopped, Marcus used the flat of his sword to beat at and search the overgrowth, turning to the second guardsman with a weary, irritated expression when nothing was revealed.

"I saw someone, Lieutenant," the man insisted. "I don't know where they could have gone."

Marcus, fully understanding how the man's eyes could have tricked him, merely dropped his reins and sat back in his saddle, sheathing his sword. It was nearly sunset now, after a full day of searching like their lives depended on it - too much longer at this, and they'd *all* be jumping at shadows.

The second guardsman, sensing that his commander shared his weariness, likewise shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, and didn't bother stopping his mount when it, like Marcus', began grazing on the flora at the water's edge. "Forgive me, Lieutenant, but - how much longer are we expected to search for one worthless thief, sir?'

Marcus just sighed in irritation. "Until Captain Sykes is satisfied that His Grace is satisfied. Anything less, and-"

The two men's voices, rendered barely intelligible, carried dimly to Claudia where she hid under the water. She was currently breathing only with the assistance of the hollow reed stalk she'd thought to grab, staring up at the foam threatening to drip down on her from the horses' mouths.

Really, Lord? Claudia thought with a flash of annoyance. Really?

As if in retribution for her complaint, the reed was suddenly jerked from between her teeth - one of the horses had torn it free as it pulled up a mouthful of the other rushes surrounding it. Startled and suddenly breathless, Claudia barely managed to prevent the gasp that would surely have filled her lungs with water. She clutched desperately at the reeds around her, trying to keep her body underwater against her brain's rising clamor to just break the surface and breathe.

"We'll all suffer if the Bishop remains displeased," Marcus Diamond said, still droning on somewhere up above the water, "even Captain Sykes, and I'm thinking he has more reasons than usual to avoid that. The man wants something, I can feel it..."

Claudia fought the urge to scream at the men to just go the hell away and move on - not that it would really do any good. Still, she was running out of air, and it felt like her lungs were going to burst any moment now...

It happened just as Marcus' horse plunged its muzzle into the water a second time, searching for another mouthful of rushes - instead of the anticipated treat, it got a violent spray of water to the face. The horse, understandably startled, lunged backward with a cry of alarm, nearly throwing Marcus off its back and into the water. Years of experience on horseback enabled the man to get his mount under control - barely - and he turned the animal back around to face the river's edge.

There before his disbelieving eyes stood the bedraggled and equally disbelieving figure of Joshua Donovan. Marcus, hardly able to fathom it, stared at his runaway Mouse until recognition and the resulting rage freed him from his paralysis.

Claudia recognized the Captain Of The Guard's right-hand man - known to her only as Marcus - and froze in fear. He was among the most brutal of the Bishop's Guard, both to herself and to others she witnessed him dealing with, and she'd taken a particular pleasure in making him look the fool as often as she could. It was a decision she kind of regretted at the moment...

The world spun back to its normal pace and rhythm as three things happened simultaneously.

The guardsman accompanying Marcus finally recognized Claudia as the escaped thief. "That's him!"

Claudia began trying to find the most likely escape route, automatically denying the guardsman's accusation. "No, it's not! I swear to God-!"

Marcus, completing the scene, finally drew his sword. "Don't just sit there - capture him!"

Claudia looked at her options, liked none of them, and tried to dive back into the river, but Marcus' henchman was there first, cutting her off and forcing her back to the shore. Marcus bore down on her as she attempted a desperate scramble up the river bank, and she shrieked hysterically as she watched the blade of his sword swing down to cut her in half.

Instead of cutting her, the flat of sword came down on her rump, as if she were some errant child being punished, and sent her sprawling onto the grass. She rolled over onto her back, staring up at Marcus in disbelief - the man loomed above her, grinning evilly.

Claudia suddenly understood - they were playing a game of cat and mouse, the better to humiliate her before bringing her back in.

Groaning inwardly at all the terrible puns the thought inspired, given her nickname, she forced herself to her feet and bolted up the hill, running at a speed only the threat of dying could pull from her. The bridge was just up ahead - all she had to do was reach that bridge, and she'd be okay somehow...

Her two would-be captors- easily able to outrun her on horseback - merely followed behind at an easy canter, content to let her exhaust herself. The sound of their mocking laughter at her back only made her push harder.

Her feet hit the top of the hill just as she began to think the incline was endless. Gasping for air, Claudia threw herself forward onto the bridge, putting on a fresh burst of speed at the suddenly flat terrain. Unfortunately, it wasn't quite enough to outdistance Marcus and his crony, the clattering of their horses' hooves only seconds behind her.

Making the mistake of risking a glance backward to see just how close they were - never say never, after all - she failed to notice the loose board until it snagged her foot. Pitching forward, she landed prone on the planks of the bridge, the last of her breath knocked out of her.

There was truly nothing to do but wait there for Marcus' sword to fall - either to kill her or to knock her unconscious and bring her back to Aquila - and she simply lay there, waiting. Absolutely nothing happened, though - no moment of blinding pain to signal the end of life and freedom - only an uncanny silence that stretched on and on and on interminably, until she finally dared raise her head to see what in the name of God had just happened.

A multicolored blur, vaguely canine in shape, leapt over her as she did so. It was no longer in her line of sight after that, but the growling from somewhere near her feet told her it was still there, and very much the dog she'd believed it to be.

The dog, while certainly fearsome and startling, turned out to be far from the most intimidating thing on that bridge. Daring an upward glance, Claudia found herself in front of a huge black warhorse - its steel-shod hooves and muscular forelegs were alarmingly close to her head, actually, and she froze again lest she provoke the beast somehow.

The massive hooves shifted slightly, even as wisps of white mist rolled from the beast's muzzle into the chill air. The dark equine eyes that met Claudia's seemed to have an almost human intelligence and suspicion behind them - Claudia thought for a stunned moment that the thing was easily the most beautiful, impressive beast she'd ever seen, then quickly diverted her attention back to the present as she caught sight of the black-clad legs pressed to its sides.

Claudia climbed to her feet slowly - ever so slowly, once she noticed the fierce hunting hawk perched on the unknown rider's vambrace - but not slowly enough to keep from upsetting the bird, which screeched and hissed at her as it mantled its wings threateningly.

"Easy there," Claudia began, but broke off suddenly at the sight of the figure on the horse's back - the one clearly controlling dog, hawk, and horse simultaneously.

The looming, hooded figure - gender indeterminate under its armor but intimidating all the same - was dressed and armored all in black, and could only be one of the Four Horsemen Of The Apocalypse mentioned in the Bible. The black cloak surrounding the figure was lined in a fiery red, shifting like some kind of infernal flame as the rider moved in the saddle to eye Claudia.

The rider's face did nothing to help determine their gender - the strong but finely chiseled features could belong to man or woman, with equally impressive effect - but Claudia finally decided to simply consider the stranger a man until told otherwise. It was just easiest that way.

The man, then, had a large gleaming broadsword in his free hand, and the eyes staring them all down were as black and cold as night, or Death itself. Claudia had to check again just to be certain she hadn't imagined those eyes being so dark they were quite literally almost black - after that, she figured it was probably a good idea to see what had her pursuers so quiet, and looked back over her shoulder at them.

Marcus and his fellow guardsman sat still and quiet on their own horses, as if rooted by the same awe and dread that had captured Claudia. Their mounts, despite the depth of their training, pranced back and forth restlessly, seeming for all the world as if they, too, understood the threat posed by the strange man in black and his two... pets.

Finally, Marcus was able to throw off his paralysis, slipping back into the authoritative demeanor of a Lieutenant as if he'd never unwittingly abandoned it. "Clear the bridge, stranger. We have no quarrel with you."

The man in black made no response, merely continuing to sit quietly on his horse. The dog, however, seemed affronted that Marcus had dared to address its master, raising its hackles and growling in an odd sort of harmony with the wind currently rising off the trees - at least until that master called it back with a whistle, and it retreated to sit beside Claudia, calm but watchful.

Marcus tried again, raising his voice slightly. "This boy is an escaped prisoner. We've been tasked with returning him to his cell."

The stranger tilted his head to the side speculatively, then finally spoke. "On whose authority?"

Something about that smooth voice - still neither discernibly male nor female - with its smooth British accent seemed to unnerve Marcus. "The authority of His Grace, the Bishop Of Aquila."

Only Claudia seemed to note the peculiar, fleeting twitch at one corner of the stranger's mouth that might have been a smile. A moment later, the black charger lunged forward, the hawk rose shrieking into the air, and the dog began growling again - that smile she'd noted was the only thing that allowed Claudia to move aside before she got trampled under those massive hooves.

The next part happened so quickly that Claudia could barely follow it.

First, Marcus' companion charged forward with a cry to stop the man in black, military-issue sword raised to cut him down. The stranger's black charger reared - deadly and majestic - and carried its own rider forward to cut the guard down instead. One deadly sweep of that huge broadsword - right through the ribcage - sent the guard tumbling off his horse and over the edge of the bridge, his scream echoing as he plummeted into the river below them.

Before that guard had even hit the water, though, the stranger had already turned on Marcus, knocking the Lieutenant from his horse in one smooth, practiced motion. Marcus crumpled to the planks of the bridge with an ugly thud, then tried to rise again, only to find the man in black looming over him, the point of his sword digging into Marcus' vulnerable throat.

Marcus swallowed hard, staring up at his death with eyes so wide the whites were visible all around. Then the dying light flashed off something on the stranger's hand - a small gold and ruby ring, it looked like - and Marcus somehow managed to turn even paler as he recognized its source.

"Return to your Captain," the man in black ordered Marcus, tone no less deadly for its eerie calmness. "Tell Walter Sykes that Charles de Navarre is back, and that I'm coming for him."

Marcus just nodded - still looking between the man in black's face and the ring on the man's hand - and Claudia felt a moment of smug vindication at seeing him on the verge of passing out from fear. Finally, he staggered to his feet, somehow managed to mount his equally fearful horse, and galloped off into the twilight.

The man in black - Navarre, Claudia reminded herself - watched silently until Marcus was out of sight, then calmly remounted his charger. The hawk spiraled down out of the sky again and returned to its master, settling on Navarre's wrist almost the moment the man was seated in the saddle, and the dog just sat quietly off to the side, panting happily as if it had merely been out for an evening romp.

Navarre sat atop his stallion a moment, gazing curiously down at Claudia, like the thief posed some sort of new riddle or puzzle to solve. Then the man nudged the horse forward towards Claudia, who still stood exactly where she'd landed when fleeing the beast's hooves just moments before.

Shaking herself out of her daze, Claudia pulled herself up to her full height, unimpressive though it was. "That was amazing, my lord! I had it all under total control, of course, but I'll never argue with that kind of help!"

Navarre didn't believe a word of it, continuing to stare down at Claudia with a disturbingly cryptic smile. "You're an escaped prisoner from Aquila? Not from the dungeons, surely..."

"Why not?" Claudia shot back, feeling vaguely annoyed at being underestimated. "I could do it."

"No one else ever has," Navarre replied calmly, with all the certainty of someone who knew *exactly* why that was.

Claudia raised her eyebrows, suddenly realizing that she might, in fact, have pulled off something truly remarkable for once in her short, nondescript life. Even so, she only shrugged noncommittally, not at all sure she wanted this Navarre fellow to think her capable of anything extraordinary.

Navarre continued eying Claudia thoughtfully until he caught sight of the sun setting behind the hills in the west, face suddenly grim and tight. Prodding the charger with his spurs, the man started moving across the bridge again, passing Claudia with such apparent disinterest, despite everything, that she might as well have been invisible.

Startled, and annoyed, Claudia reached out, not quite daring to lay a hand on beast or rider. "Sir? Sir, wait..."

When Navarre did not deign to respond, Claudia trotted after him. "Look, I've been thinking of finding myself a traveling companion-"

There was still no response to or acknowledgment of her words, and a note of desperation crept into Claudia's voice. "The woods are crawling with guards! You're gonna need someone to watch your back!"

Navarre just rode on into the growing darkness without looking back, and Claudia ran after him until she realized the futility of it and just stopped in the road, hands at her side.

"Jackass much," she muttered in irritation, before turning to walk back to the bridge. An odd ache she couldn't quite name filled her chest - it had been nice to have a defender, if only for a few minutes - but she squashed it down and blocked it from her thoughts.

Spying the corpse of the guard that Navarre had killed, Claudia felt a twinge of sympathy. "Sorry, guy. You were way outclassed there..."

Smiling with a mixture of gratitude and regret, she couldn't keep herself from taking one final look back the way Navarre had gone.

Then, as darkness descended, she walked on across the bridge to the dead guard's horse, taking the money pouch from its saddle and rifling through saddlebags that held nothing truly useful.

Claudia glanced back again at the guard's corpse, jingling the money pouch a little. "You'll thank me for this later. You know - camel through the eye of a needle, rich man, kingdom of heaven, and all that..."

"Don't mention it," she called back airily as she started off to find shelter for the night.