There was a wind howling in the distance, though she could not feel it.

"Come," it seemed to say. "Open your eyes and show yourself."

She could not still the trembling in her frail body. The voice of the wind caressed her ears and made her wish for more. She was hidden now, and the world was searching. If she could only reach out and touch that voice, she'd find her family again. The voice told her she was foolish for running away. No one would ever hurt her...what had she been thinking? Taresca was still, and would always be, her home. There was a deep sorrow, an impossible heaviness in her chest now, and the promise of home could take it all away. She only needed to come out in the open, to let the wind find her...

No. Her sister and mother were dead, her father gone...the wind had to know. It was a trick.

"Not a trick," said the wind, plucking the thoughts from her brain. "I can do anything...and I can do anything for you...show yourself and be saved...."

Her hands grew numb and fell to her sides. She dropped to her knees and laid her forehead against cool, dusty stone. The world felt so far away...there was an unbearable, tingling lightness in her head, her body. She was tired, so tired of feeling alone. The wind was stirring up her soul. It hurt. But she knew she wasn't really alone anymore. The wind was a liar. "Not alone," she whispered, "not alone..."

"Yes, alone..." replied the wind. "Forever. Show yourself to me...and I will show you what you are..."

She heard the clap of raw thunder, the electric smell of midnight rain. She felt as if she was a flickering star, fading away. Her mouth filled with a thick, sweet taste she couldn't swallow. She could barely feel her heart beat, her shallow, quickening breath. She couldn't even scream.

"Kellen, Jaspar," she whispered, "O my brothers, please save me..."

A light shuddered behind her eyelids and she was gone.


* * *

There was a plate of hot food waiting and five pairs of eyes watching her intently when Lahree woke up. "Wh-what's...why are you all looking at me like that?" she asked, rubbing her eyes. Her hair was wild, a mass of frizzy, black curls tangling over her shoulders and down her back. She tried to smooth it down.

"We were worried," said Jaspar, with a furrow in his brow. "You were so upset last night..."

"We wanted to let you sleep as long as possible," interrupted Kellen. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay...a little sore yet from riding. How long have you all been staring at me?"

"Not long," said Jaspar. "Kellen just finished making breakfast."

Her eyes widened. "I thought..."

He laughed. "Nooo, just kidding. It was Roreg's turn. It's edible, I guarantee it."

She smiled. "Thank you. Are we packing up soon?"

"Yes," said Nevan, pushing his black locks behind his ears. He was shorter than the rest of the guys, but he looked no less strong. "We were just waiting for you to wake up. Jaspar said we had to stay quiet until you woke on your own." He tried to sound annoyed, but his sweet face was unconvincing. He didn't look like he could every get angry with anyone.

"I think I had help from your staring eyes," chided Lahree.

"Well, we got bored waiting," said Nevan with a shrug. Kellen elbowed him in the ribs, making him yelp.

"I'm sorry..." Lahree began, but Jaspar put his hands up to stop her. "No, let me speak," she continued. "I don't want you all to act differently just because I'm here. Just do whatever you must; I'll be all right."

"There's no reason for us to be discourteous," said Roreg, thoughtfully. "Our work can wait a few minutes until you rise each morning. There is much less to worry about, now that we've found our sign."

"Please, stop that," Lahree said. "I'm nobody, just someone grateful for your help."

"No," said Roreg. "You are more...and we will care for you." He smiled at her, his brown eyes clear and warm.

Lahree wanted to protest, but she was confused.

Jaspar yawned loudly and made a show of stretching out his arms. "Probably time to pack up our camp, men. If we make good time, we ought to arrive at Tyrnan's farm within two weeks. We still have reason to hustle. Let the poor girl eat." Roreg and the others scattered, leaving Lahree with Jaspar and his little brother. "Kellen, once Lahree's done eating, I want you to help her pack up these bedrolls. Then you both can tackle the dishes."

"Okay."

"Lahree, do you need anything?"

"Just some more water...and a comb for my hair, maybe."

"Consider it done. Nevan's sort of in love with his curly locks. I'll bet he's got something you can use. Anything else?"

"Why were all of you staring at me like that? I want the truth this time."

"Er...did you have any dreams last night? Bad ones?"

Lahree's eyes snapped up from her plate to meet Kellen's. "How did you know?"

"We could tell, Lahree. You were shaking, making mewling sounds in your sleep. We were afraid to wake you, and we didn't want to leave you alone."

"That's why you were all staring at me."

"Yes."

"Everyone has nightmares, Kellen. Why should mine worry you so?"

"It didn't look like anyone else's nightmare. You were...flickering somehow. Fading just a little bit, then becoming solid again. It was so strange to see."

She changed her position on the bedroll and scraped her food around on her plate, not bothering to take a bite. "Fading? It must have been a trick of this dappled light, Kellen. Light works differently when it's filtered through a canopy of leaves, doesn't it?"

"No. You were starting to disappear...and then suddenly you woke up."

"That was when I..." She stopped and closed her eyes, took a breath.

"Yes?"

Her eyes opened and pierced Kellen's. "I felt like I was dying and I called out to you and your brother for help."

Kellen tried to hide his amazement. "Tell me about the dream, Lahree. Leave nothing out."

Lahree recounted her nightmare experience, but she had trouble explaining the voice of the wind. It seemed familiar to her somehow, but didn't know how. The wind had never spoken to her before.

Kellen's eyes were warm pools she wished she could sink into. His soft, tawny hair fell a little across his eyes. "You've never had a dream like this before?"

"I don't think so. It's hard to say because I usually don't remember my dreams."

"And you said you felt like you were disappearing?"

"Sort of. I didn't notice that as much as the pain, the feeling of...hollow emptiness...like I belonged nowhere...to no one...I never thought that could hurt so much."

"It was a lie, Lahree. Even so, we have to take it seriously. That was no ordinary dream. Someone is trying to touch you, and he or she is not trying to help."

She nodded. "Are we going to tell the others?"

"We have to; I'm sorry. What do you think would have happened if we'd touched you in the middle of that dream?"

She saw Jaspar walking toward them. He stopped a few feet away, just listening. She looked back at Kellen. "I don't know. Maybe nothing, or maybe I would have come out sooner...or maybe I would have been lost altogether." She shrugged. "Is there a way to test it?"

"You said you called out for us to help...and that ended it?"

"Yes."

"Maybe if we touched you, it would go away faster." Kellen looked up as his brother. "Jas, Lahree was dreaming about a voice that was taunting her, hurting her, trying to make her show herself. She said it was the wind...and she felt sort of how she looked to us...like she was disappearing. She called out to us and woke up suddenly. What do you think?"

Jaspar looked at Lahree. "When you called out to us, what exactly did you say?"

She smiled slightly. "I whispered, 'Kellen, Jaspar, O my brothers, please save me,' and just like that, it was over and here you all were, standing over me."

"Like magic, huh?" Kellen smiled.

Jaspar sat down beside Lahree and his brother. "So you were wondering if we could have touched her and brought her out of it. Do you suppose that voice would stay away if one of us was always touching her?"

Lahree shrugged. "Maybe. But...how would one of you be touching me...all night?" She looked apprehensive and a little worried. There was a hint of a wrinkle in her brow. "I trust you all, of course, but..."

"I was thinking we could take turns keeping watch, like we used to do with Tyrnan's group. We could take shifts of an hour and a half each, and hold Lahree's hand..." He trailed off, studying Lahree's face for a reaction.

"We...could try it...but don't you think that's unnecessary? It was only one dream; I've never had one like it before last night."

"Last night was the first time you've slept away from your village, Lahree. Someone there knows you've gone and wants you back. I don't think this "voice" you're hearing really belongs to the wind...I think it wants you back so it can hurt you."

"Why? I am nothing...I had no friends there besides my sister and a few of the Master's servants. No one else ever noticed I was there."

"Didn't you say...that the Master...before he went after your sister...?"

"He was interested then, yes, but that was nearly a year ago...and he hasn't spoken with me since I told him no..."

"Don't you think it's a little odd that he left you alone? He's not an honorable man, is he? He's not the sort of man to just...respect a woman's chastity, is he?"

Lahree shook her head and shivered. "No, every servant in the Master's household knows that no young woman of thirteen or fourteen years is safe from that man. He takes them all...no matter who they are. Shersa...she's a maid...Shersa told me he took her when she was fourteen, and plagued her bed until he lost interest and found another...she said she took special herbs to keep herself from getting pregnant...because she heard that if a servant bears his child, the child is never allowed to live..."

"Did she say he took her by force?"

"No...I asked her about that. He came to her and...she just said yes. She didn't want to, but she couldn't help it."

"Because she was afraid?"

"Because she suddenly wanted him to touch her...and she led him to her bed. She felt like she was split in two, and part of herself was watching the whole scene in horror, but that part couldn't move. She said she thought the Master had magic...that was the only explanation she could think of."

"That didn't happen to you?"

"No. All I felt was revulsion."

"But it must have worked with Reesa."

"I guess," she whispered, close to tears.

"And with the other girls he beds?"

"It must. He takes even his daughters when they approach the appropriate age. Shersa told me that he lets those babies live..."

Kellen spat on the ground in disgust. He looked ill. "His daughters? Babies? What?! That depraved bastard..." His hands were balled into fists at his sides and Lahree saw veins popping out on his forearms. He seemed ready to jump out of his skin. "I'll kill him..."

Jaspar laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Peace, Kellen. We will deal with this in time." He looked back to Lahree. "Why do you think his 'magic' didn't work on you, Lahree?"

"I don't know. I looked at him...and all I could see was a snake. I didn't want him to touch me...I didn't even want to hear his voice. When he leaned over and tried to kiss me...I told him to leave me alone and he did."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. He never approached me again." She blinked and looked up, her eyes glistening and full.

"You're special, Lahree. I'll bet your Master never forgot about the girl that told him no. He knows you've left his house," Jaspar said.

"Not special," she whispered. "Reesa was special...and if I had just said yes..."

Kellen gathered her into his arms, his eyes still blazing with rage against his enemy. "He's an evil man, Lahree; you didn't know what he would do." He stroked her wild hair. "None of this is your fault."

"He's right," Jaspar said. "What we need to know is why you were immune to his charm...and why he might be looking for you now. We need to know how he could be sending you dreams."

"I don't know," Lahree sighed. "I can't hurt him...I'm never going back to Taresca." She pulled away from Kellen and look at her companions. "Can we stop talking about this for a little while? I need a break."

Kellen kissed the top of her head and released her. "Sure, sweetheart. Are you done eating? We should start packing up."

Lahree gathered up her plate and cup and handed them to Jaspar, who embraced her and told her to take care before he went back to tacking up his horse. Lahree stood up and bent to pick and fold her bedroll. "This is so hard," she said.

Kellen smiled and grasped her free hand. "Don't worry; we'll figure it out."

Once the camp was packed up and brushed free of their presence, the small band of friends saddled up and moved on, this time well before noon. Their easy camaraderie was gone, and in its place, a grim determination took up residence in their hearts and minds. They had an enemy now, and they knew they were riding away from him. Lahree leaned against Kellen's chest as they rode and tried not to think of it at all.

After a long day of hard riding, Jaspar selected a secluded outcropping of rock surrounded with trees for their shelter for the night. There were fewer and fewer forests as they traveled. When Lahree noticed this, Kellen explained that they were getting closer to the border with , a vast free country comprised of lush plains and good farmland. He said that Tyrnan has moved his family there a few years before, when he decided to give up roaming and stay home to take care of his family. He'd met a man willing to sell his land for a song and made him an offer. Everyone was looking forward to stopping at Tyrnan's farm for a few days. Their bodies longed for soft beds and their bellies craves Vevna's well-reputed cooking. Lahree herself was looking forward to a bath.

It was Nevan’s turn to cook, and he fixed a stew for supper. It wasn’t the best Lahree had tasted, but it was wonderful because it reminded her of freedom. The farther she rode from Taresca, the closer she was to choosing a life of her own.

Jaspar talked to his men about keeping watch over Lahree as she slept, and they all agreed. Roreg took the first watch and had nothing to report when Belter took over. Lahree was sleeping soundly and there has been no incident.

Shortly after Belter took watch, Lahree began to moan.

Zravap Embahr drummed his white, gold-laden fingertips on the polished mahogany of his writing desk and gazed out the window. Taresca was bustling below him, a flurry of planting, hoeing and housework. The harvest would be good this year, one of the best in many turns. The peasant residents of Taresca wouldn't see the benefits, of course. The Master kept the profits in his counting room, locked deep in the cellar of his home. Zravap toyed with the notion of telling his subjects that the stores sent off for trading were destroyed in a fire, so he could take more and give them far less in return. It seemed fitting. He decided to do it. Even if someone suspected his trickery, it wasn't as if any peasant could bring charges up against his Master, and if someone dared, Zravap knew how to put him down.

"The old woman is here to see you, Master," said a soft voice in the open doorway.

"Good, Shersa. Send her here to me," he said, his pale, reptilian eyes pawing her form from bodice to skirt. She could almost feel the cold caress of his hands. She shivered and he smiled.

"Right away, Master." She curtseyed and left just as quietly as she had come.

A few minutes later, a wrinkled crone appeared in the hallway, walking slowly, but with a straight back. She wore rags, yet carried herself like royalty. She looked at him, the dark, piercing power of her eyes imploring him to speak first.

The Master stood and gestured for her to come sit with him. She smiled and waited for him to pull out a chair. He did so and she sat, still patiently waiting for him to speak. She continued to watch him calmly as he sat across from her at his desk. He scowled and she said nothing. He sighed heavily and closed his pale eyes. He opened them.

"Mother Chebah," he said, "the girl has escaped." The pupils of his eyes pulsed when he spoke the last word.

The old woman's expression did not change. "Which girl is that? You've no shortage of girls here." Her voice sounded like dry sticks breaking, hollow and sharp. Her eyes missed nothing. "Three more stand poised on the cusp of new womanhood, do they not?"

"Not one of my girls; I can control my girls. You know of whom I speak," he hissed.

"I told you to bed her more than a year ago. Was she not appealing to you, the proper age? Perhaps your tastes have shifted..."

"Cease your mocking," he snarled. "You know she refused me."

Chebah pulled a small, black, shiny ball out of her pocket and rolled it across her bony knuckles. She followed the movement intently with her eyes. "No one refuses you. Isn't that what you've always said?"

"My magic did not work on her, Mother Chebah. I took her sister instead, out of rage."

"Your youngest victim yet," she crackled. She turned her hand and flipped the ball into her palm.

"Yes." He looked at his fingers, watched them straighten and flex.

"Be careful, Zravap. Soon I imagine you'll be snatching them straight from the womb."

"I was trying to teach your changeling a lesson. Her sister was the only thing she had that I could take away."

"She was exquisite?"

"Yes."

"You let the wrong girl live."

"Maybe you're wrong."

"I am never wrong, Zravap. You know this."

"Yes."

When it was apparent that the Master had no more to say, the old fortuneteller said, "Send out a band of your finest...to look for her, bring her back here."

"Mother Che--"

"Send them now if you wish to live your life unaltered. It would be a shame to lose it -- you've spent so much time setting up this nymphet factory of yours. Of course, it is not my life to lose. It is all the same to me."

"My men have other enemies with whom to contend."

"None this important. That girl is out there now, and you can bet she isn't wandering aimlessly alone. She has help."

"Mother Chebah, she only disappeared last night. She could merely be lost. There is no call for such haste. I thought you could just conjure her back here, where she belongs. Have you lost those legendary powers?" he chided.

"Fool! No magic can conjure the changeling. Best that you bring her back and kill her before she realizes what she is. Call your men home. I will help you."

"Old woman, my world was orderly before you entered it.. I wish you had never begun your meddling."

"Do not blame me. I told you long ago that it was the girl. If you had left her family alone, she would have not had to go searching. She could have lived quietly her whole life, under my watchful eye."

"You wanted her for yourself."

"Perhaps," she said with a secretive smile, "but the hour is too late now for your petty arguments. Do as I command."

"Yes."

Just outside the door, a pair of ash violet eyes widened at the old woman's words. Dare anyone command Zravap Embahr, her father? Perhaps their Lord Emperor, but not an old peasant witch such as this. My mother will know what to do, the girl thought. She turned silently and ran toward her mother's chambers, her slippers whispering across the polished floors in near silence. An unseen arm shot out and snatched her around the waist, forcing all breath from her lungs.

"Unghh!" she struggled. The arm held her fast, but she could not see her captor. "Let me..."

"Go?" The voice was deep; she felt it rumble against her back more than she heard it.

"Please!" she cried. The arm's grasp loosened and she twirled around, ready to claw the man's eyes out. He let her go, laughing, and held up his hands to protect his face.

"Whoa, Gwerat, it's only me," he said.

Gwerat's eyes narrowed and she tried to hit him anyway. "Stevap! Don't scare me like that! I was on my way to tell Mama some news."

"Whatever you were going to tell Selvri, you can tell me."

"You're not my mother."

"I'm your brother, even better."

"You're my mother's brother."

"It's all the same in this family, little girl. Zravap Embahr is the father of us all."

Gwerat didn't quite understand that, but she tried not to let on. She liked Stevap best of all her male relatives; she didn't want him to think she was stupid. "That old woman is in Papa's study room again," she said. "She said, 'Do as I command,' and Papa just said, 'Yes.'"

Stevap froze for a second, then grinned, shaking his dark head. "You're either making this up or you misheard. That man does not take orders from the weather."

She looked at him, puzzled. "The weather? What?"

"It's just an expression. It means that no one can make him do anything." He picked her up and started carrying her down the hall. "That is why I think you must have misheard Zravap's answer."

"I did not. Papa and that witch were talking about some girl they're looking for...Papa called her a changeling. He wanted the witch to bring her back."

"Really. And what were you doing so close to your Papa's study?"

"I just wanted to ask him..."

"Yes?"

"I wanted to ask him why he moved Lahset, Korlai, and Fruwa to the other side of the manor. My room is so lonely without them. I want them to come back," she said, her eyes filling up.

He shook his head, sadly. "I'm sorry, Gwerat, but you'd better not ask. Once he sends them over, he does not allow them back to the nursery."

Two fat tears rolled down her pale apple cheeks. "Why? I miss them so much. I only see them at dinner now, and they won't talk to me. They used to play with me, Stevap."

He held her close as they neared her mother's chambers. "You'll understand soon, Gwer, too soon. I'm so sorry." He stroked her hair and knocked softly on Selvri's door.

A petite, raven-haired woman answered, wearing only a dressing gown. She had eyes like her daughter's. "What is it, Stevap? Is she hurt?" The expression on her face said more than her words, and her brother understood.

"She's fine, Sel. She was only eavesdropping near Zravap's study. He didn't see her...and she still has no idea..."

Gwerat struggled and Stevap let her down. "Mama, that old witch lady was talking to Papa again...why does she come here?"

Selvri stooped to embrace her daughter and smoothed her hair. "We'll talk about this later, honey. Your sister has been looking for you. Why don't you play with her for a minute while I talk to Stevap?"

Gwerat frowned. "Aw, Mama, Sulo's just a little kid. I'd rather play with Korlai and the others..."

"Go, Gwerat, I'll only be a minute," she said quietly, and Gwerat made her way sullenly to her little sister's bedroom. Once the door was closed, Selvri looked back at her brother and sighed. "I know she's got a few more years yet, two at least, but I worry..."

He nodded. "I know you do."

"You'd think there'd be some stop to it, but it goes on. All of my mother's daughter's, nearly all of the rest...and with Gwerat, a new atrocity shall begin. Oh, I wish I had borne him only sons, that all of us had..." She swiped the back of her white hand across her eyes, breathing shallowly.

"I'm sorry, Sel. I wish I could help you." His eyes were large and sad.

"I know that, and I know there is little hope, in any case. What did Gwerat overhear in the study just now? What was she going to tell me?"

"She said they were trying to find the changeling."

"I think this would be a suitable place to make camp," Jaspar said. The sun was reaching toward the horizon, throwing red and gold sparks across the sky. He had pulled up his horse and turned toward the rest of his party to signal his wish to speak. Everyone had been waiting eagerly for the gesture; they were hungry after such a long ride.

Lahree needed more help getting down from Linden's back than she had the first time. Her inner thigh muscles were screaming and her whole body felt stiff. She groaned and batted Kellen's hands away as he tried to steady her.

"Welcome to life on horseback, my lady," Jaspar intoned with a flourish, walking toward them. She grimaced and he bowed in the manner of a courtier. Once he straightened, he winked at her and held out his hand. She didn't take it. Instead, she took a step toward his brother and searched his face, imploring him to say what she couldn't.

"Jaspar...uh...there's something you need to know about Lahree." He looked down at his dusty feet, suddenly nervous. He didn't know if he wanted to be an adventurer anymore. This quest, which he had originally considered to be a lark, a way to see the world, was turning serious.

Jaspar cocked his head to the side, watching his brother's worried face. "Go on."

"Jas, there was a prophesy spoken about Lahree's family when she was four years old, by an old woman named Chebah..."

"Chebah? Is she still around?" Jaspar scratched his chin, thinking.

"You know her?" Lahree asked, startled.

Jaspar shook his head. "Not well. I met her once, a few years ago. I was traveling through Tagland (I'm sorry, but that is what we call this strange country of yours) and she happened upon our camp, wanted to tell us our fortunes for a little meat and bread."

"Was that when you were traveling with Roreg's uncle?" Kellen asked.

"Yes, that was before Roreg and the rest of the guys decided to follow me. Tyrnan's wife has too many little ones at home, as you well know."

Kellen smiled. "They sure don't waste any time, do they? They're on what, their tenth?"

"Yes, if you count Vevna's four children from her first man. I think Tyrnan said once that he'd had two children at one time, too, but he lost them. I think that's why he and Vevna keep having babies. The twins are named after the ones that he lost, supposedly."

"Oh, right. They're really sweet, those little girls." Kellen sighed. "But Jaspar..."

"Yes, Chebah's prophesy. What did she say, Lahree?"

Lahree fidgeted and took a step to the side. She winced at the pain in her thighs. "She...she told my father that once eleven years had passed there would be only one member of our family living in Taresca, and that person would possibly be the destruction of our way of life, the class system, the tags..." she trailed off, unable to say what she needed to convey. It was too huge, unimaginable.

"Lahree..." Jaspar prodded.

Kellen took a deep breath. "Jas, the old woman made that prediction when Lahree was four...and she's now fifteen."

Jaspar glanced over at Lahree. She was rocking herself, staring into nothing. "Who's left in Taresca?" He reached for Lahree's shoulder. She moved one step further away.

Kellen sighed. "No one. She was the last. Her father was banished from the village soon after Chebah spoke her sentence and her mother died...Lahree, when did she die?"

Lahree shrugged off the shock that threatened to deafen her to the world and looked at her companions. "My mother...her name was Roshlah...she died when I was thirteen and Reesa was eleven...two years ago. The Master made her marry another man in the village after my father was gone. He beat her because all their babies died, every one, even before they were born. He said she lost them on purpose. Reesa and I just hid from him as much as we could. The last time she lost a baby...she was too weak to take the beating..." She choked and allowed Kellen to put his arms around her. "Reesa and I went to the Master's house to do the laundry; no family in the village wanted two more daughters to feed and our mother's husband would have done terrible things..." She buried her head in the softness of Kellen's homespun shirt. He tightened his embrace.

"What happened to Reesa?" Jaspar asked gently.

Kellen shook his head, trying to tell his brother to let the subject rest for a while, but Lahree broke away and turned to look at them, her eyes glistening. "Three days ago now...the baby was breech...it ripped her to pieces inside and I could do nothing." She closed her eyes, then opened them again. A whole family of tears slid down her cheeks. "An old woman came to take the baby; she said it would die and the Master wanted to see it first. Reesa bled and bled...until her eyes would open no more. She said...the last thing she said to me...she said I had to take care of her baby...and she would say hello to Mother and Father for me on the other side..."

Her knees buckled and Kellen and Jaspar caught her together. A tall blond man, the one the brothers called Roreg, brought a log over for her to sit on. All the men were watching her now.

Jaspar crouched beside the girl and searched her face. "Your sister was thirteen?"

She nodded feebly. "Yes."

"Who was the father of Reesa's child?"

"R-Reesa never t-told me. She said she couldn't, that she was protecting me." She sniffed. "I can't say for sure...but I think it might have been the M-Master..."

Jaspar's eyes met Kellen's, then glanced toward his bedding supplies. Kellen nodded and set about making a place for Lahree to rest. Jaspar waved the other men away from the girl and sat beside her. "Thank you for telling us your story. I know it wasn't easy."

Her mouth formed a weak, sad smile. "I'd been holding that inside so long; I think I needed to tell someone."

"And I think we need you."

"Why? What can I do? All I've ever done is housework, washing clothes."

"I don't know, Lahree. All I know is that there has to be some reason Kellen found you the way he did." He paused to search her face. "I don't know if Kellen told you, but we're looking for..."

"A sign. I know."

"Just now I was sort of thinking...maybe you're it."

"Don't be ridiculous. This all has to be a misunderstanding...a mistake."

"Don't you think it's more than just a coincidence that I've met that old woman you fear so much?"

Her eyebrows furrowed. "I don't...fear her."

"She took your life and trampled it...using only the power of her words. Don't underestimate her, Lahree. There's a reason why your 'noble' class pays heed to the things she says. There's a reason she's allowed to come and go as she pleases."

"What did she say to you the night you met her? Didn't she tell your fortune, too?"

"No. She was going to, but she took one look at my palm and said she couldn't help me. Then Tyrnan...that's Roreg's uncle, you know...the big blond guy?"

She nodded.

"Tyrnan walked over to her, said a few words, and she left."

"What did he say to her?"

"Tyrnan never told me. He grew angry and turned away from me when I asked, which wasn't like him at all. I figured I should just leave it alone. I was lucky he let me tag along at all. I was young and no kin of his, just a friend of his nephew's, often more trouble than I was worth." He shrugged and smiled at her confused expression. "Did you ever see old Chebah again, after that night in your home eleven years ago?"

Lahree eyes searched the sky. "She came back to Taresca many times, several times a year, but our mother made sure she didn't come near us, and after that, Reesa and I always volunteered to take on the workloads of others when Chebah came, just to be sure we had a legitimate reason to abstain."

"How did Reesa get pregnant so young? She must have been...twelve...?"

"How do women usually get pregnant, Jaspar?"

He choked.

"There's only one way to do it."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know. I just can't...stand to think about it. I told myself I would have taken her place if I could...but...it's my fault it happened to her. I had my chance and I refused..." she trailed off, then grew fierce, turning toward Jaspar with wide, sorrowful eyes. "I didn't know he would go to her next! I thought...I don't know. Maybe he did it just to punish me, because I said no. And poor little Reesa...she thought she was protecting me...when she was all I had in the world...the one thing I could not lose..." She started crying once again. "Kellen found me outside in the middle of the night last night, mourning her. He didn't know...he was looking for food and I helped him...and got caught outside in the dark...and I didn't plan it...but I think I needed to leave with him, Jaspar. I just couldn't live there anymore. There is no one there I still love, no one who cares if I live or die."

He touched her shoulder, her cheek. "You have a new family now, Lahree."

"I will never have another family. Everyone's dead. It's over." She sighed and cradled her face in her hands.

"Come on. You know what I want to say. We'll be your new family now. You have to have someone."

"You, Kellen, your men...you don't know me. I don't know you. You can't have any idea how this will work."

"Family only works if everyone wants it to. And we do. We can all be your big brothers..."

"Because you think I'm some sort of sign," she said quietly.

He put his arm around her. "Because you need someone to take care of you...and we will be happy to do it. Did you think we were going to dump you off at the next village? We're stuck with each other."

"I don't even know all your names."

Jaspar stuck his hand out and his face split into a wide grin. "I'm Jaspar; it's a pleasure to meet you."

She wiped her eyes and socked him playfully in the stomach.

"Hey!"

"I know your name, and your brother's...and I guess I know who Roreg is, even though he hasn't spoken to me."

"Mmmhmm...well, the short one with the black hair...that's Nevan. He's going to marry Roreg's cousin Telsi once this whole quest is over. They're both pretty impatient, but they can wait. Nevan's only one turn older than Kellen, so he's the second youngest of the group."

"Are you the oldest?"

"No, that's Roreg; he's 22. Roreg could lead if he wanted to, but he prefers it this way. He's pretty quiet, but in a fight I'd rather have one of him on my side than two of just about anybody else."

She smiled. "I'll remember that. Who's the skinny one with the long, brown hair?"

"Kellen's the skinny one," he corrected, "but I know who you mean. That's Belter. He's just a friend, the same age as me: 21."

"Okay."

"So, that's all of us."

"Only five?"

"Well, six now, really." He winked at her. "And we sort of expect to pick people up on the way. That happens a lot. We're also hoping we can get Tyrnan and his son Biran to come along when we swing past their farm, but it's unlikely they'll come since Tyrnan's wife, Vevna, is going to have another baby soon."

"Kellen said it will be their tenth?"

"They're a bit like rabbits in that respect...but they always seem so happy. You can't really blame them for trying to populate the world. They both lost so much in the past, but they found something better together." He smiled wistfully.

"I'd like to meet them," she said.

"You will."

Kellen walked over to them and held out his arm to help Lahree up off the log. "Your bed's ready, if you're ready to lie down, Lahree."

She took his hand and stood up. "I've never slept outside before. Will you stay near? Close enough for me to see you when I get scared?"

"We all will," promised Roreg, striding toward them. "You will sleep closest to the fire, and the rest of us will lay our bedding in a circle around yours." He bowed slightly, but not in the humorous manner of his younger friend. He meant it. "You will be just as safe as you would be back in your village, my lady."

"Even safer," said Jaspar.

And she was.

Kellen freed Linden from her tether and boosted Lahree up onto the mare’s back. He tied his sack of food to the tacking, mounted, and dug in his heels. They rode hard across the plain for a couple of miles until they reached the edge of a lush forest. Kellen slowed Linden to a walk and urged her inside.

One of Kellen’s hands held the reins. The other was attached to the arm wrapped tightly around Lahree’s waist. He could feel the tension she held in her body. Everything must feel so unfamiliar. He marveled at her silent courage. Her life had changed a lot in the past two hours.

“Lahree,” he said quietly, “what happened back there?”

“The family that lives in the guardhouse, their son – their son had his window open and he was awake, looking outside. He was always such a disobedient, petulant boy . . .”

“And he saw you?” he asked gently.

“That was him screaming. I knew that any moment his father would appear, bearing weapons.” She let herself relax against him somewhat. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Now you’re stuck with me.”

He hadn’t thought of that. “What—?”

“I can’t go back. They will already have discovered my empty bed.”

“You mean they won’t wait until morning?”

“It’s nearly morning now, and Tarfel will have rung the guardhouse bell, warning all to take stock of their households.”

“You can’t . . . ?”

“I can’t go back.”

Kellen didn’t know how he felt about that. He slackened his grip around Lahree’s waist a little. He needed to think.

They rode in relative silence until they arrived at a small campsite. A large fire was burning and three men sat on rough logs beside it. A fourth appeared to be cooking. They all seemed strong and hale. Upon hearing the approaching horse, they all looked up. The man that was cooking broke out into a wide grin. “Well, look who finally . . . Kellen, who is that?”

Kellen stopped his horse and dismounted. After helping Lahree get down, he walked over to the man who had spoken. “Jaspar, hi. I ran into . . . sort of a problem back in that village.”

Jaspar picked up the large cast iron pan he was using, jostled it a bit, and placed it back on the fire. He looked pensive. “I don’t remember adding ‘damsel in distress’ to that grocery list I gave you.”

“Shut up, Jas. This is serious. She’s in trouble because she helped me get the food.”

“Can’t you take her back? She can tell them you forced her.”

“But I would never—”

“They wouldn’t know what a softie you are. You’re a big, bad outlaw without a tag.”

“Jas.”

“We have a job to do, Kellen. You know that. And we’ve got enough people to worry about as it is.”

“Jaspar, it’s more complicated than that. She’ll die if we leave her. She doesn’t have anyone anymore . . . just me.”

Jaspar glanced down at the sausage and eggs that he was frying. “Well, breakfast is almost done. Get your new lady friend a seat. We can talk about this later.”

Lahree watched Kellen as he talked to the man standing by the fire. They seemed to have been arguing about something. Probably her, she mused. Abruptly they ended their conversation. Kellen helped the man fill plates and pass them out to the other three men. No one looked at her. She felt as inconsequential as a common fly.

Kellen dragged another large piece of wood close to the fire and called her name. When she sat down, he had a hot plate of food and a tin cup full of water waiting for her.

“Thought you might be hungry after all that excitement.” He smiled and sat beside her with his own plate.

“Well, it is nearly breakfast time, anyway. The sun is rising, I think. It’s hard to tell through the trees.” She took a bit of her eggs and winced. Delicious, but too hot. “So these are your men?”

“Kellen’s men?” a voice boomed from behind them, bubbling with mirth. “What sort of stories have you been telling this poor girl, brother?”

Kellen’s face reddened. “Jas . . . please.”

Jaspar wedged himself in between the couple and sat down. “I’m sorry, my incredibly rude brother has failed to introduce us. I’m Jaspar and these are my men.” He cast a wry, sidelong glance at Kellen, who dropped his face in his hands and groaned. Jaspar turned back to Lahree. “And what is your name?”

She blushed prettily and lowered her eyelashes. “Lahree. You two are brothers?”

Jaspar rolled his eyes and put on his most beleaguered expression. “Unfortunately, yes. I’ve been saddled with this kid for most of my life.” He shoved Kellen playfully, making him spill some of his breakfast.

“Stop it, Jas.” He sounded miserable.

"Aw, honey, it's okay. You know I'll always love you, no matter how delusional you get."
Kellen got up and walked to the other side of the fire. Jaspar laughed and turned back to Lahree, his brown eyes sparkling.

Lahree studied Jaspar's face for a moment. His features were stronger, less fine than Kellen's. His hair was longer and it reached past his shoulder blades. It was also a bit darker and warmer in color, more golden. Jaspar was basically broader than his brother in all respects. His chest was more expansive, his muscles more pronounced. He and Kellen were about the same height. They were alike, yet not, as if the same artist had drawn each, but with different materials. Kellen had been created with a quill and ink, Jaspar, a piece of sharpened coal. Jaspar's masculinity was more of an obvious thing and he was no less handsome. Lahree caught herself staring and looked away, a slow smile brightening her features. Jaspar noticed and puffed out his chest a little.

"Jaspar, you look like a peacock," said Kellen from across the fire. "Why don't you leave her alone?" The other men laughed.

"If you guys keep laughing, I'll let Kellen cook for the rest of the week, "Jaspar warned. The campfire grew suddenly solemn.

Lahree had never spent much time with young men before, especially ones such as these. They were oddly entertaining. "Is Kellen such a terrible cook?"

"My lady, that is a fact as plain as the color of the sky. That is why it is his job to gather the food. It's the only way he can touch it without fouling it up completely."

"Surely he cannot be that bad." Lahree smiled and squinted her eyes at a stray beam of sunshine that pierced the thick canopy above.

"Just ask the rest of my men how they liked the stew Kellen prepared last week." He chuckled softly to himself. "Kellen's a good sort, but we like to limit his cooking. We don't let him navigate, either."

Lahree bit her lip to keep from laughing in case Kellen was watching. She resumed eating her food, which was now cold. Jaspar nodded to her and walked over to the other side of the fire to talk to "his" men.

Once the day had blossomed to its full brilliance, Lahree helped the young men to pack up their camp. They worked efficiently, but without haste. They stopped here and there to chat or have a drink. They teased each other, smiling easily. The atmosphere was so different from the experience Lahree knew in Taresca. Work such as this would have been finished even before the sun broke into the sky. The Master would have commanded that it be so. Kellen, Jaspar, and the others worked so unhurriedly that it was nearly noon before everyone was ready to go. Jaspar passed out a quick lunch and the five men mounted their horses. Lahree rode with Kellen once again.

They skirted the edge of the forest for a mile or so, then allowed themselves to break into open country. Lahree watched the landscape fly past with wonder.

"I guess you haven't been out this way, have you?" Kellen asked.

She shook her head. "Where are we going exactly?"

"Ah...I'm not really sure."

She snickered.

"What?"

"Oh, just something Jaspar said..."

"About what?"

"Your navigating skills."

"Did he? Well, he doesn't know where we're going, either. None of us do."

"What--what are you doing? Just wandering around?"

"We're looking for something...following a trail."

"What are you looking for?"

"A sign."

"You sound like the old lady that travels amongst the villages peddling fortunes."

Kellen was puzzled. "They allow someone like that to enter your village?"

Lahree shrugged. "She wears a tag. She is permitted."

"Really."

"She is not taken seriously, of course. Her talent is considered to be mere entertainment in the evening, for those who have finished their work for the day. Those who can afford to share a trinket, food, or drink often invite her into their homes for a night. It passes the time for those who have some to spare."

"Not you?"

"Not of late, no."

"Has she ever told your fortune?"

"Yes, when I was a small child. Reesa and I were both so excited to ask our own questions. She never acknowledged Reesa, though. She only wished to speak to me. Reesa cried and pulled at her skirts, but the old woman never flinched or glanced her way. My father asked her to leave, though the sun was nearly set and it was customary for the last family visited before dark to ask Chebah to stay for the night. My father was banished shortly thereafter." Lahree felt her throat grow tight with the memory.

Kellen tightened his guiding arm around her waist and leaned closer, a sort of clumsy, bumpy embrace. He didn't know what else to do; they had to keep riding until Jaspar signaled that it was time to make camp. "He was banished just for turning the woman out?"

"No, but I believe she had something to do with it. My mother said that just before Chebah left, she seized my father's shoulder and spoke harshly to him, in a low, menacing voice. She predicted that in eleven years there would be no living member of my family left in Taresca save one, and that one person had the potential to dismantle the entire society, to bring ruin to all our leaders."

"That's incredible."

"I believe that the old woman's story reached the ears of our Master and my father was sentenced so that he could not stay with my mother long enough to produce a male child."

"Why?"

"Surely it would have to be my father's son that could challenge our ways. His daughter would do no such thing." She shivered.

"Isn't that what you've done?"

"No!" Her voice rang with alarm.

"You were the last member of your family to live within that village's walls and now you've left, as a fugitive. Maybe I was meant to find you. Maybe we needed you for this quest."

"You've plainly lost your mind."

"I'm also serious. How old were you when your father was banished, Lahree?"

"I was...four."

"And you are now?"

"Fifteen..." As she said it, the color drained from her cheeks and she felt cold.

"Lahree, we have to tell Jaspar about this as soon as we stop to make camp. It's important."

She laughed a little, to show she wasn't scared. "He's just going to laugh at you again."

"I promise you, he won't."

They rode quietly for the rest of the afternoon, both avoiding the conversation that would have to continue once they stopped for the night. Lahree hadn't thought of that old woman in ages; could Chebah's old prediction have come true?

Lahree pressed her back against the cold stone wall and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She was a cobweb, a flower, a chameleon. If she was caught outside at this hour, there was no guarantee she would live out the night. She wasn’t afraid of anyone in the village, nay, not even the Master in his cold, gilded hall. There were spirits on the loose in the dark hours, in the shadows. People were known to disappear, and if a wanderer wasn’t taken, he was called a Moon-worshipper and cast beyond the wall, the tag ripped from his ear. Lahree reached up to touch her own tag. Its presence there was the only comfort she knew.

The sound of a horse’s hooves on packed earth drew her from her frightened reverie. She glanced toward the western gate, just a few yards from where she sat. It was open. The moon was barely more than a slivered half-circle in the sky and offered little aid, though Lahree would have shunned the light as trickery regardless. Lahree bowed her head and drew her cloak over her dark hair, holding her breath. A pair of dusty leather boots appeared in her field of vision. She closed her eyes and willed them to pass. They stopped, toes pointing toward her. Then the legs attached to those feet bent and she saw the whole man. He was young, lithe and beautiful, with dark blond hair that hung past his shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut.

“Pray, maiden,” he whispered, “is something the matter? Do I somehow offend?”

Lahree curled into herself all the more. The man reached out and tugged her hood back slightly. “There’s no cause for alarm. I’m harmless; look at me.”

She obeyed, cautiously. He didn’t seem too threatening. “What do you want?”

The man grinned and his blue eyes crinkled. “Oh, I want the things any man wants: a roof over my head, food in my stomach, a few lusty women in my bed . . .” He laughed, noting Lahree’s shocked expression. He stopped when she started to cry. He sat down beside her and asked what was wrong.

Her words came out, ragged with sorrow. “If the world spun as it should, good sir, it would be my sister here to greet you tonight. Nay, not even so, for she would have had the sense to sleep indoors.”

“What harm can there be in taking in the fresh, cool air? I have spent many a night such as this in the open country.” He sat cross-legged beside her and leaned back against the wall.

She eyed him warily but did not move away. “What’s fresh by your book maybe be called fouler in others. Do you not fear the spirits?”

He tossed her a pitying, indulgent smile. She ignored it.

“Some even say it was the spirits that took my sister, but I know better.” She drew her cloak more closely around her body, though she was not cold.

“Took . . . your sister?”

“She died in my arms two days ago. She bled to death while I tried to take care of her.”

He looked stricken. “What . . . happened to her?”

Lahree looked him square in the face for the first time. “She lost her baby.” She said it with such finality that the young man knew not to press the issue. He simply nodded and lowered his gaze.

When it was apparent that he would not question her further, she shifted slightly to face him. “Sir, may I ask what you are doing here in Taresca after dark? Do the leaders of your village know you’ve gone?”

He chuckled softly and fidgeted with a thick silver ring he wore on his right hand. “I . . . don’t really belong to any village.”

She backed away from him slightly. “Surely you must wear a tag.”

“Do you have one?”

She let a small burst of air escape her lips. She seemed insulted. “Of course, at the top of my left ear, like everyone else I know.” Her hand flew up to touch it, almost as if she’d feared it would disappear. She looked up to find him studying her with a sadly amused expression on his face. “Where is your tag?” she asked. “May I see it?” It wasn’t always polite to ask such things, especially of a stranger, but she needed to know.

The man pushed his long, silky-looking hair behind his ears proudly. “I wear no tag.”

Lahree’s eyes flew from one bare ear to the next in disbelief. It was unnatural! There wasn’t even a mark to show where a tag had been removed. She shook the wonder from her gaze and was silent. Was this man a noble in disguise, on the run? Should she tell someone? He was so handsome.

He saw the machinery turning in her head and smiled indulgently. “Don’t be alarmed. Where I come from, no one wears them. We’re all free.”

Free? “I don’t understand. Why would you want to come here?”

The man stood up, holding out his hand to indicate Lahree should do the same. She took it timidly and he pulled her up beside him. He was very tall. He leaned down close to her with a conspiratorial gleam in his eyes. “I am on a secret mission.”

Lahree’s eyes grew wide once again. “To . . . do what?”

“I am to procure some supplies for my men and myself. We’re hungry and we haven’t passed another village for days.”

“But . . . no one is awake to . . .” she stammered. “Y-you mean to steal?”

He laughed, a low, merry sound. “No, of course not. I’ll leave some coin. More than enough. The transaction just goes so much more smoothly in the middle of the night. Less haggling.” He winked at the girl and she blushed. “Now, will you show me where you keep your food?”

“I don’t even know you.”

He stuck his hand out. “My name is Kellen. I live wherever I happen to be.” He withdrew his hand when she didn’t take it. “You know, it’s not polite to stare,” he said gently. “Do you have a name?”

She straightened. “Lahree.”

“Hmm, that’s beautiful.” Kellen seized Lahree’s right hand and kissed it. “I am honored.”

She stood as still as held breath, transfixed and unsure of the correct response. He smiled at her again and she felt an inexplicable pull on her senses. It was something like the time she and her sister had gotten into their father’s wine. Their mother had been so angry. That was so long ago . . .

“Hasn’t a man ever kissed your hand before?” he asked delicately.

“Only my father,” she replied, “but he’s been gone for years.” She shuddered involuntarily. “Anyway, it really isn’t proper . . . do you still want to take a look at the stores? We’d better go.”

Kellen shoved a new crop of questions out of his mind and followed Lahree down a narrow street and into the heart of the village. He took one stride for every two of hers; she was so small. When they arrived at a large shed-like structure, Lahree reached for the door without delay and ushered him quickly inside.

“You keep your stores in the center of town?”

She shrugged. “They’re less vulnerable to thieves this way, don’t you think?”

“I suppose.”

“This way, all of Taresca is on guard.”

He raised an eyebrow. “But not now?”

“No one goes out at night, not even the cruelest of outlaws. I thought I was the only one who dared.”

“Well, I guess you’re not, are you?” What a ridiculous, strange country, he thought. Kellen couldn’t help but ponder that Lahree’s people were overly simple and superstitious, but he didn’t want to let on. It would do no good to insult or scare the girl away. His job would be much more easily accomplished with the aid of an extra set of eyes. He doubted the other villagers would believe in his honorable intentions if he were caught with his fingers in the pot, so to speak.

Lahree walked over to a small window and left Kellen to his business. She watched him, though. She saw him open a large, brown sack made of coarse linen. She hadn’t noticed him carrying anything before. She viewed his movements with interest. He seemed younger than she had initially assumed him to be. Perhaps he was only a few turns older than she, just barely a man.

Kellen was solely concerned with filling his bag with salt pork and tubers until he realized that Lahree was watching him. He felt it more than he saw; there was precious little light. He’d simply felt her attention pricking at the back of his neck. It wasn’t unpleasant. “I would greatly appreciate it if you would look out that window and tell me if anyone comes,” he said. “I do not wish to be seen.”

“Nor do I,” Lahree murmured. “If anyone saw me out past dark, I’d be banished for sure.”

He whirled to face her. “Banished?”

“No one ever survives. They’ll rip the tag from my ear and leave me to die . . .”

“They can’t just make you die, Lahree.”

“To aid an unmarked peasant is to invite the same fate upon yourself. I would have no food, no shelter, and eventually I would succumb.” Her eyes searched the silent streets outside. “I should not be helping you. I shouldn’t be here at all.” She reminded him of a frightened rabbit, ready to run.

“Lahree, what were you doing so close to the village gate?”

She smiled faintly through her distress. “I don’t really know. I guess I was looking for her . . . for any trace of my sister.” She swallowed hard and looked away. “Sometimes I think I can feel her near me, but when I turn to look, I’m still alone.” She felt a quiet hand on her shoulder. She brought her hand up and clasped it in her own. It was warm. She turned toward Kellen and found herself trapped in his embrace; he had not removed his hand. She braced her own against his chest, intending to maintain her personal space. A strange flame shot through her fingers. She withdrew them and fell forward, letting him hold her up.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, if that’s what you were wondering,” he said. He stroked her hair lightly with his free hand. “You’re just grieving.”

“But I can’t,” she sobbed into his frayed tunic. “I have to put it behind me. It’s not allowed.”

He rocked her in his arms. It almost seemed a dance. “You’re not making any sense.”

“You don’t understand. One’s work is the most important thing in the world. It’s how we derive our worth. My load doesn’t lighten just because my sister is dead. No one has time to help me.” She tried to stop the tremor in her breath, but Kellen felt it. He pulled her closer still. “It’s actually good to be busy,” she said. “It’s easier to forget. If only there were enough wood for me to keep the fires lit all night. I’d wash the same clothes over and over. It’s better than sitting in my cold cell alone.”

“You wash clothes?”

“From daybreak to twilight, as long as there is fire to keep the water hot. Reesa was a laundry girl, too. It’s what we were chosen to do when our mother passed.”

“Reesa was your sister’s name?”

“Yes.” She pulled away from him and looked out the window. “We should go.”

He nodded, reluctantly. Perhaps it was best he left this place as soon as possible. She was starting to get to him. What on earth would Jaspar say about that?

She viewed him oddly, as if she had heard his stray thoughts. “Kellen, the streets are still clear, if you’re ready to go back to your horse.”

He straightened and picked up his heavy sack. “I’m ready.”

“Have you left the coin you promised?”

“Of course. I left it on that table over there. You can count it if you like.”

She glanced back. “No, I trust you.”

He nodded. “Then, let’s go.”

Lahree led Kellen back to the gate where they had first met, scarcely an hour before. Kellen strode straight through, but Lahree didn’t follow. When he noticed that his footsteps no longer had company, he turned to meet her dark, frightened eyes with his own. She had not moved one inch beyond the boundary made by the wall.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to meet my horse?” he asked softly. “She’s very tame.”

“I...I’ve never been outside these walls before.” She said it with a degree of wonder, as if she hadn’t previously been aware of this fact.

“Why?”

“I...don’t know. It never occurred to me to try.” Seeing Kellen’s baffled expression, she explained. “Some of the boys play a game. The winner is the one who takes the most steps away from the village. They pretend to be brave, but they always run back as fast as they can.”

“Does no one ever leave?”

“Oh, of course, some must in order to trade. No one ever wants to, though. It isn’t safe.”

He took a step back toward her. “Are you afraid?”

She shot him a withering stare.

“You said yourself, there’s no one awake to see. Come here.” She eyed him warily as he beckoned. “Lahree, come see my horse. She’s beautiful.”

Lahree took slow, labored steps past the wall, as if an invisible force field were pulling her back home. She fought it and finally reached his side. Kellen took her hand and the awful sensation dissipated. Suddenly, she felt as if a veil had been lifted. She smiled.

“It’s gorgeous out here, isn’t it?”

She nodded, too breathless with wonder to speak. The sky seemed, somehow, more brilliant with stars than it had on any other night of her life. The rolling grassland smelled green and sweet. She’d never noticed that fragrance before.

They walked a short way to a small stand of poplars, to which Kellen’s patient bay mare was tied.

“This is Linden,” he announced affectionately and patted the mare’s pink satin nose. “I bet you were worried about me, weren’t you, honey? Well, I’m back now,” he crooned. He fished a few carrots out of his bag and gave them to her. She nickered and crunched happily on her gift.

“She is lovely.” Lahree lifted her hand tentatively. “Can I touch her?”

“Sure. Just hold out your hands and let her smell you first. She’ll know you’re all right.”

Lahree did so and Linden lipped her palms gently, looking for treats. Kellen laughed and handed Lahree a few more carrots. The mare took them gladly.

“See? You’re already old friends.”

Lahree stroked Linden’s mane and smiled. “We are. I’m sorry that I can’t stay out here longer.” Her countenance clouded. “I have to get back.”

“I know,” he said. “Let me walk you home.”

She put her hands up. “I don’t think . . .”

“I do. I want to make sure you’re safe in bed when I leave. I won’t be able to go, otherwise.” He linked his arm carefully in hers and led her back into Taresca.

They took a different route this time, around the perimeter of the village, along the wall, instead of straight through. Soon, a large stone manor became visible in moonlight. Lahree stopped walking and turned to her companion. “I live here, in the servants’ quarters around back. It’s not safe for you to come any closer.”

“I thought you said that no—”

“The nobles are a far different breed of people. They do not share our fears or our troubles. Someone may yet be stirring.” She saw him falter. “I am in no danger. Don’t worry so. I wish you luck.” She grasped his hand and kissed it. “Go now.” She released him and turned to walk down the narrow lane and past the sleepy-looking guardhouse.

Kellen watched her for a moment, the way her skirts swished when she walked. Entrancing. She seemed all right, though he was sad to leave her. Slowly, he made his way to the wall and began to follow it back to the west gate.

The shrill scream of a small child pierced his thoughts and spun him around toward the manor. Lahree was running so fast, she should have had wings. He stared at her, dumbstruck as she flew past him. She wheeled to face him, her expression wild with terror. “Kellen, I hope your horse can bear two. We have to go NOW!” She grabbed his hand and they both ran back through the village and to the poplar stand, panting the whole way.