CHAPTER 23
The sound of rain on the wooden shingles of the hay loft woke Penrys before Zandaril came to get her at the end of his watch. They had split the night, watching for anyone approaching from the village. The precaution might have been unnecessary, but Penrys couldn’t maintain any sort of shield while she slept, nor was she even sure that the shield was a good idea—the wizard who ran the mirror seemed to have been attracted by it—so this was the best they could do. She checked the surroundings now. She felt Tak Tuzap, still sunk in the sound sleep of youth, and Zandaril preparing to catch another couple of hours before the sun was properly up, but no one else nearby.
She yawned, grateful for a roof this wet morning, even if only a hay loft, half-full of bales. Daylight soon—I can
