Abhorsen awoke at first light, and the slight noise she made woke Terciel as well. The long journey behind them didn't seem to faze her, but Terciel could have slept until noon if he had been allowed. Knowing that Abhorsen would wake him roughly if he tried to go back to sleep, he rolled out of bed onto aching legs and began to dress himself. His clothes were not quite dry, so he drew a Charter mark for heat and let it evaporate some of the dampness.

Abhorsen frowned at him. "Don't wear yourself out," she said, "They're only going to get wet again anyway."

"It was only a little mark," said Terciel, slipping into his tunic and armor, "And it's worth it to be dry even for a few minutes." He drew his surcoat over his head. Unlike Abhorsen's, which had an intricate pattern of silver keys, his coat had a single silver key emblazoned across his chest, like the servant-sendings at the House. It was the coat of an apprentice. He was also set apart from his master by the quality of his weapons. Abhorsen's sword oozed power, and the Charter marks running its length were so strong that they were visible through the scabbard. Terciel carried only a shortsword, and though it was also Charter-spelled, the level of the enchantment was leagues lower. Abhorsen swung her bell-bandolier across her chest; Terciel clipped his set of pipes, which were weaker sisters to the bells, to a pocket in his belt.

They hid their insignia and weapons beneath their cloaks and went downstairs for breakfast. The man from the night before served them porridge, seeming glad to see them go. When he wasn't looking, Abhorsen left a few coins on the table for the food, and with it enough to cover the room and stables for their horses.

"Is this all some sort of test?" asked Terciel suddenly as they went out onto the street. The rain was less than the day before, but still present as a driving, stinging mist.

"What do you mean?" asked Abhorsen, genuinely surprised.

"The last time you were so secretive about a mission was two years ago, when you left me in the Great Sickle Wood to fight that gang of lesser Dead," Terciel said, "When I finally got home, you said you had been testing me, to see if I could adapt to the situation without warning. Is this the same thing?"

Abhorsen narrowed her eyes. "You're not a boy anymore, Terciel," she said, "It's been a long time since I resorted to petty trickery to force you to learn a lesson. You can't always look to me when you're in trouble and hope that it was all my plan. Sometimes I have no plan. Sometimes I know no more than you. And if I'm being secretive, it is because I have genuine secrets. I promise you that I am not testing you to see how long it takes you to unravel them."

They were silent until Abhorsen suddenly stopped at a small shack across from a blacksmith's shop. "We're here," she said, and went up to knock on the door to the shack.

At first Terciel thought no one was home, but after a long pause the door cracked open just enough to reveal a sliver of a face and a single brown eye. "What do you want?" came a voice from inside the door. Though it was husky with apprehension and disuse, it was distinctly female.

"I am Abhorsen," said Abhorsen, and Terciel was surprised that she had given up her identity so easily. "Are you in any trouble, or do you have need of assistance?"

The door finally swung open to reveal a girl of about Terciel's age. Though she may have once been pretty, her eyes were now red and sunken, and her layers of clothing did little to hide how painfully skinny she was. No locks of hair fell from beneath her woolen cap; her head was shaved. "How did you know?" the pitiful sight demanded.

"I have ways," said Abhorsen enigmatically, "Why don't you let us in and tell us what you need?"

The girl hesitated only a second before shrugging and opening the door wide. Either she was unaware of the dangers of inviting strangers into ones home, or she didn't value her safety very highly. "I might as well," she said, "It's not like the whole town doesn't know."

The house within was dusty and bare. The girl sat cross-legged on the hard floor, and Abhorsen and Terciel joined her there. There wasn't a stick of furniture to be seen. When the girl spoke, it was in a neutral tone, but Terciel could hear layers of grief and desperation beneath.

"My parents died," she said, "I've been trying to make my way, but it's been… difficult. I've sold everything but the house, and I ran out of food over a week ago. I have relatives in Sindle who would take me in, but there are Dead all along the road." She fell silent, letting her situation speak for itself. If she stayed she would starve, and if she left she would quickly fall prey to the Dead.

Terciel was watching Abhorsen. The girl's story seemed to be as new to her as it was to him. So when she had said that she knew no more than him, she had been telling the truth. But then how had she known that the girl needed their help?

"What's your name?" asked Abhorsen.

"Andrael," said the girl, a glimmer of hope now appearing in her eyes as she seemed to appraise her strange visitors.

"Andrael," said Abhorsen, "I am going to leave my Abhorsen-in-Waiting with you here. I will go retrieve our horses, and return shortly. When I return, we will set out for Orchyre. It will take us four days. After we re-supply there, we will follow the road for another four days to Sindle. You needn't fear the Dead along the roads; we will protect you." She stood, but did not leave. She leveled the piercing gaze that Terciel knew so well at Andrael, and waited for some form of response.

Snapped out of her trance-like despair, Andrael's face became more expressive. Terciel could see intelligence burning there, weighing her options, assessing the risks, and forming an opinion of Abhorsen. If she had questions or fears, she kept them to herself, and said only, "Yes."

With a nod, Abhorsen left the two sitting in the empty room alone.

Terciel couldn't think of a single thing to say to Andrael, but she quickly filled the silence. While she was guarded with Abhorsen, she was clearly more curious about the quiet young man.

"Abhorsen-in-Waiting is a bit of a mouthful," she observed, "Do you have a name?"

"Terciel," he said, rummaging in his pack. Since she had explained her emaciated state, he was eager to help however he could. He pulled out a chunk of hard bread and held it out to her. It was simple, bland, traveling food, and Terciel was sick of it, but Andrael's eyes lit up as she lunged for it.

She was silent for a few minutes while she gnawed on the crust, swallowing so fast that she coughed and gagged. When she finally managed to choke some down, she looked up again and smiled. "Thanks," she said, "Terciel is a good name. 'Terce' means 'third' in Latin. Are you a third child?"

Terciel was a bit taken aback at Andrael's sudden talkativeness, and an honest answer was startled out of him. "No," he stammered, "Second. I have an older brother."

Andrael nodded sagely. "Whoever named you didn't know Latin then," she said, still munching the bread between words, "My Dad knew Latin. He was really smart."

"How did he die?" Terciel asked. It wasn't a particularly tactful question, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. And he was curious.

"Taken by the Dead, out in the mountains," said Andrael, "He was educated in Belisaere, you know. People say he was a Free Magic sorcerer, but they're just jealous because he was smarter than all of them. When he died, they even said that he had been raising the Dead, and that his own creations had killed him." Her face showed equal parts morbid fascination and frustrated anger.

"Of course that wasn't true," she continued, "But it didn't stop everyone in town from refusing to hire me, so I couldn't make any money unless I sold all my things. Honestly, I think they were all hoping I would make the journey to Sindle alone and they wouldn't have to deal with me anymore. Or that I would just starve to death. They've been watching me pick food out of the gutters for a week and still no one would help me. I suppose I'm lucky you and your mother came along. What's her name anyway?"

"She's not my mother," said Terciel, who was getting used to Andrael's chattiness. He supposed that she must be starved for attention after living alone and being ignored for so long. "My mother was her sister. And she told you her name: Abhorsen."

"But you're the Abhorsen-in-Waiting," Andrael argued, "So it's not a name; it's a title."

"It's a bit of both," Terciel explained, "But I don't know what her name was before. She's been Abhorsen since before I was born. I asked her once, and she said that it had been so long since she used her given name that she had forgotten it, but I don't think she meant that." It was strange to talk about his aunt to another person. Though he had traveled all over the Kingdom, Terciel had rarely had the opportunity to speak with someone his own age.

Andrael popped the last of the bread into her mouth. It would have taken Terciel half an hour to chew through it, but she had finished it in no more than a few minutes. She eyed his bag, clearly hoping that there would be more. "I suppose you'll be just the same when she dies and you become Abhorsen," she said.

"I don't think so," said Terciel, "Besides, she's tough. I have a long time yet before she dies."

"Hmm," said Andrael wistfully, "I thought the same thing about my parents." The hairs stood up on Terciel's arms at that notion, but Andrael was already changing the subject. "So how did she know to come find me anyway?"

"She wouldn't say," said Terciel, "But that's just the way she is. She doesn't give anything up easily."

Andrael frowned. "I don't like people like that," she said, glancing at the door where Abhorsen had exited as if she could still be outside listening, "Makes you wonder if they have something to hide."

It troubled Terciel to hear someone talk about Abhorsen that way. To him, she had always been infallible. "You can trust her," he assured Andrael.

Andrael's smile was complex and not entirely happy. "I don't seem to have much of a choice," she said.