Perhaps it was a detestable trait in Amaranth that provoked her to laughter before it provoked her to good sense, a trait, she later thought, she might consider suppressing, for the comfort of herself and everyone else involved. But at the moment, she did not think, only snorted at the look upon Niccoli Jaget’s face, the image of him sprawled in the sand, floundering about like a fish out of water.

The Lady Jaget, hand upon her husband's arm, brushing at the dirt upon his coat, stiffened at the sound. And slowly she glanced up at Amaranth, and Amaranth could not tell if behind the blankness of her expression lay some venom, a hatred born of wounded pride. The expression was certainly blank enough.

"We're traveling north," Niccoli Jaget said, jerking his arm from the hands of his wife, brushing at the dirt she had already removed from his clothes, "taking the main road as far as it'll go. We mean to leave the kingdom in three days, for my Lady Mesulaine--" He spit the name, but for all the poison of his pronouncement, it seemed still to shake him; the hand brushing at his sleeves balled into a fist, and his face reddened, "she gives us but one week to be out of her sight - and the sight of her creatures, her guards. Should we linger, she will track us down without mercy. I have wasted two full days requesting a guardian for this trip." He chuckled mirthlessly.

Amaranth lifted an eyebrow. Niccoli had either forgotten being laid out upon the ground by the authority of his guardian, or was very stupid. Or forgetful. Or rash. Or perhaps all four things at once.

"It is too much, taking three days to leave Mesulaine's kingdom," said the Lady Jaget. "We should make use of every minute of the time she gives us. Please. We'll tire my mama."

Amaranth glanced to her, saw Monroe, from the corner of her eye, turn his head to the older woman as well. The lady carefully avoided the gazes fixed upon her; she stared at a point above her husband's head, chin lifted to an almost unnatural angle. There might have been something regal and poignant to the manner in which she held herself, if only she had not been trying so visibly hard.

Niccoli growled, turned on his heel, stalked close to her. "I won't have your complaints again!" he hissed, "not when you know as well as I do what danger we're in!"

He spun away before she could gather herself to answer; he stalked toward the carriage, calling over his shoulder, "This way!"

"But we cannot travel that fast; it is usually five days on horse that we would get anywhere near the border!" the lady cried, her posture breaking; she turned and ran after him.

"It will be three days, it will be three days!" Niccoli barked, but he did not deign to glance back at her; he only lengthened his stride and was soon again among the crowd. He began to shout, wave his arms, and the more plainly dressed of the party drew back to the outskirts of the throng. And once they had done so, few were left: only Niccoli and the women and child in the carriage, and a smartly dressed young man who watched Amaranth and Monroe narrowly from the back of a horse.

"Those others are servants, I'm thinking," Amaranth said to Monroe, pointing to the dispersing crowd. "It looks like the Jagets're leaving their entire household, family excepted, of course. But my! Have you ever seen such a carriage as that?" She gestured and shook her head; all extraneous movement, for she had watched Monroe take in the caravan with a long glance some time ago. "It'll slow them all down; do you think they mean to take it? If the lady is right and it's a usual five days to the north border of this kingdom, and he means us to take it in three - gods! Is he mad, you think?"