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the rest.”
    “The fire on Whitewing? “
    “Yes, I’m afraid that was my doing. I figured that she was a loss already, so I might as well deny the pirates their prize while making a distraction.” They rode on for a short time, and then Geran sighed. He hated to ask what he asked next, but he thought he’d better. “I watched for a while, Nimessa. I didn’t see any other captives. Were you the only one they spared?”
    “Yes.” She looked down. “There was no one else left to save.”
    “Were you—” he began, and then he stopped himself. He was going to ask if she’d been traveling alone, but he knew better. A young noblewoman of a good family would have been accompanied, most likely by a maid-in-waiting or a kinsman. There was a chance that the pirates would spare wellborn captives in the hopes of winning a rich ransom, but somehow he doubted that they’d intended to ransom Nimessa back to her family. And if they hadn’t intended to ransom her, no one else in her party would have been worth keeping alive. He let the question die on his lips. He could only imagine what she’d seen and been through. Even if she was made of stern stuff, it would not be easy on her.
    After a while he realized that she was shaking inside his oversized cloak, and she failed to stifle a sob. He frowned behind her, trying to decide if it was kinder to leave her to her thoughts for a time, distract her with meaningless conversation, or draw her out and let her tell her story. Half an hour ago you were thinking of her as a princess in a Waterdeep romance story, and you the brave knight, Geran fumed at himself. She’s seen more murder and cruelty in a few short hours than most people do in a lifetime. And he’d certainly contributed his own share with his furious skirmish on the beach. All she knew of him was that he’d stolen her out of a pirate camp, savagely cutting down anyone in his path. Regardless of
    the reasons he gave for his actions, she had to wonder whether his motives were honorable or not.
    Not knowing what else to do, he squeezed her hand and said, “It’s over now, Nimessa.” She nodded but did not answer.
    Geran found a spot that he remembered along the track and paused to look around. They still had the trail to themselves, as far as he could tell. He spurred his horse up and over the crest of the hill. An old footpath led into the low thickets and hedgerows of a small valley where a stream descended to the sea below. They headed inland into the empty hills. If the pirates were still in pursuit, Geran figured that they’d likely follow the coastal trail. They couldn’t know where Geran and Nimessa had left the trail unless they had a very good tracker with them.
    A long-abandoned homestead stood at the head of the valley. It might have been wiser to keep on going, but he was exhausted, and the moon would be setting soon. There were dangers other than pirates abroad in the Highfells at night, and Geran didn’t care to meet them in the dark. He dismounted and led his horse inside the old house. There was a back door leading out to overgrown fields behind the house; if they had to, they could flee deeper into the hills.
    He helped Nimessa down then busied himself with setting up a small camp. “I think it’s safe to rest a couple of hours,” he said. “We can’t ride all night, and I’m too tired to go much farther. My apologies for the accommodations.”
    “For some reason a lonely old ruin in the middle of nowhere doesn’t seem so bad to me tonight,” Nimessa answered. She found a small, rueful smile. “Do you know where we are?”
    “More or less. I used to hunt up here when I was younger.”
    Geran found some dry brush and built a small fire inside the old hearth. He stepped around the corner to change into the last of his dry clothing and spread his wet clothes out in front of the fire. Then he shared his provisions with Nimessa, and they made a supper out of a loaf of bread, a wedge of cheese,