Chapter Six

The distant tree-line crept up over the rim of the horizon as Alphus and the rest of the company rode east, the quick-stepping gait of their horses rumbling in their ears. A plume of dust rose above the barren road in their wake. The sun was out of their eyes now and finally at their backs, and Alphus felt the gathering sweat it brought sticking to his clothes and skin. A sword hung from his belt, and he had to wear it tighter than he was used to, in order to keep it from sagging with the weight of the blade. He had never worn a sword before--had never been allowed to, as a cadet. And although he had not officially graduated from that rank, Bannon had allowed him the privilege of a weapon for the duration of the mission.

"Almost there, boys," he heard Bannon shout over his shoulder. The squad of city soldiers supplied by Councilors Dathros and Sophir consisted of eight men; young, but older than Alphus, they had lived and trained and ate and slept in the city. He could see his reflection in their polished steel chestplates.

As they rode on, the rutted dirt trail-way narrowed and became rocky, forcing them to slow their pace. Alphus welcomed the change, since he was not yet accustomed to traveling by horse. He found his creature to be stubborn and altogether too large--it was hardly concerned with the trifle on its back and seemed to continue onward only to keep ahead of the other horses. He rode at Bannon's side, and if ever he fell back too far, the Captain would give a sharp whistle, and Alphus would kick his stirrups and get back into place.

"You haven't spoken since we left," Bannon said. "Do you regret coming along already?"

"No sir, just...preparing myself," Alphus said.

"Always good to be prepared. But preparation is a luxury. Don't get used to it."

"Yes sir," Alphus said.

"You're scared, aren't you?" Bannon asked.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Even after you've been cured, you're still wet as a bucket."

"No sir."

"And why is that?" Bannon asked.

"Because I trust in my superiors," Alphus said. It was taught every day in the Academy, even the very first: to trust the superior officer was the only path to success among the Knights Exemplar--the only way to one day become a knight.

"Yes. Trust and obedience. That is the key. Those are the keys. Without obedience, an army is just a group of single men. But in the hands of great leaders, an army is one body. Working as one, thinking as one, moving as one, and fighting as one. If a single element of doubt springs up and is not dealt with, it can dissolve the entire body."

Alphus could do nothing but nod his head.

"It has happened again and again in the great war histories I have studied. At its peak, the five-headed army of King Nebuthed crumbled in defeat when his fifth lord, Rydil, defected. Nebuthed's dear friend, too afraid to fight for his own king any longer. You yourself know how it feels to have a friend turn her back on you."

Alphus's throat went dry. Despite everything, he was determined not to think of Anise that way. He did not want to hear more of Bannon's lecturing about her and her mistakes, but it seemed she would be forced into his mind again.

"Anise was a good cadet, when she wanted to be," the Captain continued. "Anyone could see that. But she never belonged at the Academy. That was clear too. Even Jonus knew it. She had no loyalty to him, or to you. Just herself. What she did was cowardly and selfish."

"She saved my life, in the Thornwood," Alphus said.

"I wasn't finished, cadet. You would have died because of her. What Anise did was foolish, and if you want to respect her, then you will learn from her mistakes. Do you understand me?"

"Yes sir."

"You have been given a great opportunity, Alphus. We are on the winning side of this new war. The Naephra are poor tacticians. Very superstitious. They never feared us, before. But now..." Bannon smiled and let out a small laugh. "Trust and obedience. If we have those, and we have sivra, nothing can stop us."

The first thing they saw was the smoke, rising up in slanted black towers over the horizon. It was late afternoon when they saw the first outlines of the charred buildings that now made up the town of Orreck. The smoke tinged the air with its scent, heavier as they came closer. Bannon kicked up to a gallop, and Alphus and the other soldiers followed. No words were spoken, and none could have been heard over the din of the hooves.

They passed the short signpost that marked the edge of the settlement, with the words ORRECK, COUNCIL PROVINCE painted in thick white letters on the simple wooden plank. Just beyond it was the first house: no more than a shack at its best, now a charred carcass of logs, with its roof fallen in. Its owners were not there. Bannon circled the shack on his horse, scowling at it like it was a dead animal, then they rode on to the center of town.

Orreck consisted of a single street, with rowhouses on either side, each built for ten or fifteen workers. There were smaller shacks as well, and a stable with wagons hitched, loaded and waiting. At the end of the street there was the magistrate's residence and beside it the large storehouse, which had collapsed in on itself completely. The residence was still standing, although there were places where Alphus could see straight through the crumbled brick walls to the rocky dirt on the far side. After that, the road dipped down into a narrow river canyon which led to the mine and, continuing east, the Thornwood.

They saw no flames--only the smoke billowing upward from a few of the buildings. For every building that stood, another had been torched. One man watched them as they rode past, standing in a pile of black rubble that had once been a house. Ash covered his clothes and grayed his hair, making him look much older than he was. Others simply sat on the ground. Only when they reached the end of the street did they see the rest of the city's inhabitants, standing in a semicircle behind the magistrate's house. Two men were digging a pit in the dusty ground, and the sifting of their shovels was the only noise after the horses came to a stop. The settlers turned to look at them. Alphus guessed there were less than forty. The two men continued digging. Twenty two bodies lay on the ground beside the pit, in two lines of eleven. There were men, women, and children, all dead.

"Alphus, stay with me," Bannon said. "The rest of you keep your eyes on the settlers."

"Yes sir," said officer Kellen.

"Where is magistrate Hilbreck?" Bannon asked.

When no one answered, one of the men digging stopped and raised his shovel, pointing it towards the magistrate building.

Alphus and Bannon dismounted at the doorway to the residence and tied their horses to the single remaining porch column. The door, broken off its hinges, leaned against the outside wall. Alphus followed the Captain inside.

Even the remains of the badly damaged building offered a stark contrast to the humble wooden dwellings along the street. The inside matched its outer appearance--debris littered the floor of the foyer, crackling and shifting underfoot as they made their way inside.

"Magistrate?" Bannon Crofley shouted.

"Who's there?" asked a voice. The two advanced through the foyer and into a long meeting hall to see a tall, thin man, hunched over a mess of large volumes splayed out over the oval table at the room's center. His hair was gray but he did not seem much older than the Captain. "Bannon, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"When did this happen?" Bannon asked.

"Before dawn."

"How many Naephra?"

"Ten, twenty--more perhaps," Hilbreck said.

"And the sivra?" Bannon asked.

"You saw the storehouse. And they collapsed the mine."

"Why? How did they know?"

"They always knew," Hilbreck said. "How else could this happen?"

"They couldn't have gotten all of it. You kept some hidden, like I asked?"

"So it does work."

"And that is precisely why we need it, Gram," Bannon said. "Show me where you kept it hidden."

"Stay here and look if you wish, but I am taking my people back to Laenguir."

Crofley slammed his fist into the table. "We had an agreement, Gram. There will be consequences if you interfere with my orders. If the mines are collapsed then I will need your men to excavate them."

"We have already felt the consequences of this arrangement. These people have seen enough."

"If the Naephra attack again, my men and I will protect you."

"I will not suffer this behavior from you. I am the magistrate of Orreck, appointed by the Council to oversee this province you will not tell me--"

"My orders come directly from the Council! Tell me where you hid the sivra or I will arrest you."

"Your orders mean nothing to these people. And by arresting me you would turn them against you."

"Enough," Bannon said. "Alphus, restrain him."

Alphus could hear the disgust in the Captain's voice as he gave the order, and it made him hesitate. He did not want to put the settlers here in danger, and even if Hilbreck was going against the Council, he could not hate him for his motives. Bannon was right: even with the sivra, Alphus did not want to face any Naephra again, and yet it seemed inevitable. Still, he could not afford to disobey Bannon's order. He took the magistrate's arm and bent it sharply behind his back, and with his other hand he pushed him forward, towards the doorway.

"You see, boy?" Hilbreck said. "It's always either yes or no with the Council."

"Don't make things harder for yourself, sir," Alphus said. The magistrate did not struggle against his grip. They walked smoothly out through the ruined house and back into the street, where the Council guardsmen waited for them.

"Kellen, take the magistrate to the stables," Bannon said quietly. "Make sure that he and the horses do not leave that building."

"Yes sir," Kellen said, and he took Hilbreck from Alphus.

"They will not help you," Gram said. "The Council has neglected us for years. You can't expect their trust."

"And keep him quiet," Crofley said.

The Captain approached the settlers, still digging the grave behind one of the burned down buildings. The women were crying. Some of the men were, too. There were no children in the settlement--only working-age adults.

"Hear this," Bannon shouted. "I am Captain Crofley, envoy of the Council. When my men and I have finished our orders, we will escort you to Laenguir." Alphus saw careful smiles on the faces of some of the settlers. They must be happy to have protection now, he thought.

"My men will help you bury your dead. Afterward, you will wait for us in the magistrate's home." Bannon waved his hand, and the other guardsmen came forward. The hole was nearly large enough now, and they started picking up the bodies by their hands and feet and dropping them in.

"Do you want me to help them, sir?" Alphus asked. He did not want to, but he also did not want the survivors to have to touch the empty bodies of their friends and family, laying out in that row on the ground.

"No, you'll come with me," Crofley said. "I need to see the mines for myself." Before they left for the canyon, Bannon whispered something to one of the guardsmen. "Don't let them leave," he said. "It's for their own safety. Keep them in the mansion."

The road east of the city ended at the edge of the narrow river canyon. From there, a well-trod switchback trail snaked down the steep rock face and into the canyon itself. Alphus heard the river below before he could see it. He followed close behind Bannon as they went in. The sun had just touched the horizon when they reached the edge, leaving the bottom of the canyon engulfed in shadow, and much cooler than the arid plains above. The path led down to a pebbled riverbank that hugged the sheer canyon wall in both directions; to their left, the canyon curved to the north, but to the right the river continued east, eventually crossing into the Thornwood. The river itself was thin and strong, and Alphus could not tell how deep it was.

Bannon knew which way to go, and they headed east. Alphus did not see anything that looked like a cave--just rocky hillside covered in tough, scraggly brush. The canyon deepened as they went along. The walls stretched up to meet the jagged stripe of reddish sky above.

"They've sealed it off completely," Bannon said as he came to a stop.

Alphus noticed it, too: immense boulders piled high along the wall ahead and across the riverbank. He saw how the cliff face had fractured at the top, raining down a wall of rock over what must have been the entrance to the mine.

"How'd they do this?" Alphus asked.

"Explosives," Bannon said. "Likely the same stuff we used on their trees. This is the first time I've seen them use it." He turned and started back. "It should only take us a few days to clear it out."

"How do we know there's any sivra left down there?" Alphus asked.

"We don't. But in order to obtain more we first have to clear the opening."

"Sir, if the Naephra came back they could trap us down here."

"I know that, cadet," Bannon said. "What's the alternative? Leave Orreck behind? Right now, the Naephra are waiting for us to leave. Then they will reclaim this territory. In a few months there could be trees from here to the Academy." Bannon stopped walking and looked at Alphus, and he could feel the Captain's disappointment in him cast like a cold shadow. "Do not question me again," he said.

"How old are you?" Anise asked.

"My age should not concern you," Jarko answered. Their horses plodded along down the narrow trail, Jarko in front and Anise behind. They had been riding through the Thornwood since the early morning, and the Naephran girl had kept surprisingly quiet. When Anise had learned that she would be going along with her to the settlement, she had expected a long, grating trip with plenty of annoying remarks from Jarko. So far that had not been the case, although the journey was indeed long. And while her companion was quiet, the forest itself was not--she heard the noises of every creature around her, every cry and heartbeat and footstep filtering through her skin, and each time the wind picked up it rattled the thousand leaves above their heads.

"I'm not asking because it concerns me. I just want to know," Anise said. After a while, she felt that Jarko was not keeping silent as a courtesy to her, but because she was dissatisfied with her for some reason. She did not like this.

"Eighteen years," Jarko said.

"You're eighteen? That's a year younger than me!" Anise would never have guessed she was so young--Jarko looked to be in her early twenties.

"Humans age differently than we do," Jarko said. "You look like infants for much of your life. It is very strange." The way she said it so casually made Anise want to scream.

"You really hate me, don't you," Anise said.

Jarko let out a loud laugh. "Why would I waste such a strong feeling on you?" she said.

"That's even worse!" Anise said. "In fact, I would prefer if you hated me. To you, I'm just this novelty, half-blood girl-thing for you to boss around."

"You seem far too concerned with what I think of you," Jarko said.

"Maybe I am! It's clearly done me no good. I don't even know why I agreed to help you."

"Then leave."

"What?" Anise said.

"I do not need your help. I will take you to the edge of the forest and you can go your own way," Jarko said.

"Irel promised he would help me find my father."

"You believed him?"

Anise yanked the reins of her horse and he stopped. It was the same animal she had ridden to escape the Academy. True to her word, Jarko had not killed it.

"He lied to me?" Anise asked.

"He had no reason to tell you the truth."

"Good people don't need a reason to tell the truth."

"Then ask yourself if he had a reason to lie," Jarko said.

"Stop it! What are you trying to say?"

Jarko stopped her horse and turned to face her. The forest was growing darker by the minute, and the Naephra's eyes caught the dim light and reflected it a bright green.

"I understand that you want to find your father. But even if you find him, what do you expect him to tell you?"

"The truth," Anise said.

"You do not know what truth is. When someone tells you what you want to hear, you believe it. You would be better to make your own truth. Tell yourself something, and leave him alone."

"It wouldn't be good enough. I need to hear it from him."

"You know enough of the truth now. Even if you find him--even if he tells you everything, you still must move beyond it."

"How can I move beyond it? This is my life!"

"My father did not lie to you. There is a way to find him. But finding him will not help you."

Anise and Jarko rode on in silence after that. Several times, Anise thought of something to say but stopped before speaking it. Part of her felt that Jarko was right. Nothing that Fellis could tell her would change anything. She would still have to find a way to live for herself afterward. But she wondered if she could really leave that question unanswered. She needed to hear the words from her own father--how he had found her after she was born. How he could have kept the truth from her all this time. Was he ashamed of what he had done? Was that why he had sent her away to the Academy? And the biggest question: why had he caused her mother to die?

It was getting dark, and Anise thought they must be coming to the edge of the forest soon. Visibility was very limited in the forest, even in the daytime, but she had noticed that the trees they passed were getting smaller and closer as they went on, and the underbrush grew thicker. Jarko stopped suddenly, and Anise's horse nearly ran into hers.

"Something is wrong," Jarko said. "I smell smoke." She spurred her horse and shot off down the path. Anise did the same, and ducked her head under the low branches as they rushed along. The Thornwood ended abruptly, the path emptying out into grassy fields ahead, and they stopped just behind the last trees.

In the distance Anise saw what could only be the town of Orreck, but it did not resemble a town anymore. The sun was half-hidden below the horizon, framed by two plumes of smoke rising on either side from the ruins of burnt homes.

"You sure you don't need my help?" Anise asked.

"There were Naephra here," Jarko said. "Listen. You can still hear their anima."

Anise focused her perception on the rhythms racing up and down her spine. The sounds lit up in her head as she concentrated on them, and she made out the faint echo of other Naephra, gone many hours ago. It was only a flicker, and then she lost it in the other sounds from the forest.

"They did this?" Anise asked.

"I don't know," Jarko said.

"What should I do?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"I want to help. I can go into town and find out what happened," Anise said.

"Do what you will," Jarko said. "I will track down these Naephra."

"You won't even thank me?"

"I will thank you if you prove you are useful. Tie the horse here. Leave Orreck before dawn," Jarko said.

"I'll be fine," Anise said.

"And try not to fight anyone," Jarko said. She couldn't quite tell, but Anise thought she saw a hint of a smile on Jarko's lips as she said it. The Naephran girl sped away through the brush and in seconds she was gone.

"Good luck to you, too," Anise said. She dismounted, then led the horse back into the forest a ways and tied him to a tree. She patted his neck, and he huffed with satisfaction. Then Anise left the forest and began the walk toward Orreck.

The settlement lay about a mile west from the edge of the woods, she estimated, but Anise first made her way south. No human would approach from the east. She wished she could take the horse, but a human girl riding a Naephran horse would look very strange. She hoped to avoid being seen--if she spoke to one person she might find out all that had happened. Before she left Tamryod, Irel had given her a tattered cloak to cover her Academy garb, and she was glad for it, because the air was colder out on the plain.

The tall grasses came up as high as her hips, and Anise let the tips of the blades brush her palms as she walked. The town was close now, and she finally saw the extent of the damage. She tried to remember if she had been here before, during her travels with her father. He had liked to make his way up and down the Eastlands each season. "We must have stopped here," she thought, although she could not remember it. Even if she did, she might not have been able to recognize it now. There were settlements like this all along the eastern edge of Saerath--the land claimed from the burnt and deadened swath of Thornwood during the war.

The first building she passed had been reduced to black, ashen rubble. Orange flames still burned at the center, small but stubborn. The next house consisted of two walls at a corner, with the rest collapsed or burned up. On down the street the level of damage to each building varied, but none were left untouched. Anise began to wonder if it was such a good idea to come here. She saw no one, only the blackened wood. Whoever had done this--and she was sure it was not a wildfire--may still be near. If it had been Naephra, as Jarko seemed to suspect, then she could be in great danger.

Anise paused to listen. She felt foolish at first--already her time in the Thornwood felt like a dream, and when the last echo shuddered down her spine her new senses seemed to disappear with it, until she entered the forest again. But still she listened, and heard nothing. Then there was that tingle in her spine, trickling up over the ridges of her bones and the underside of her skin, like a needle-legged spider. It was weaker here, outside the forest, but still there. Someone was close. The pattern spoke of fear and hesitation. There were others beyond it. But none were Naephra. Anise did not know how she knew that. She still understood very little about this new hearing, but that little, growing knowledge was aided by strides of instinct. This had all been forest once, she remembered.

The sounds came from the large building at the end of the dirt street. It would have been impressive once, Anise thought, compared to the rest of the town, but the fire had touched it, too. A figure walked by in front of its doorway, and she thought at first that it was a Naephra, until she noticed the glint of his pauldrons. His armor was worn by the Council Guard of Laenguir.

"Why is the Guard here?" she wondered. Since she saw no one else around, the only thing for her to do was to talk to him.

The man noticed her as she came closer. "What are you doing out here?" he asked, and he waved his hand toward the large building. "Get inside."

"What happened?" Anise asked.

"Did you sleep through it?" said the man.

"No, I just...where is everyone?"

"We're staying in here until we can leave," he said. He opened the door and pressed firmly on Anise's back to move her inside. "Don't go outside again until you're told." His voice was harsh, and Anise decided there would be better people to talk to than him. Once she was past the door, the soldier closed it behind her.

The foyer was filled with people. Some sat on the floor or leaned against the walls, while others stood, huddled together in small groups. Most were silent, or only spoke in agitated whispers. The interior of the building was in much worse shape than the outside, but it seemed to be in no danger of collapsing. Everything was charred black, and ash covered the walls and the floor. Anise moved through the crowd, toward the back of the room. The settlers stared as she passed, but said nothing to her. She knew she had to talk to someone, even if no one seemed to want a conversation.

A middle-aged woman sat in the corner, her back slouched against the wall. A crude cloth bandage covered her right arm from wrist to elbow. She was alone, and despite everything, seemed calm. Anise approached her slowly.

"You look thirsty," Anise said. She took out her water skin from under her cloak and held it out to the woman, who took it with her good hand. Anise removed the stopper for her, and she drank its contents. A trickle of water ran down her chin, leaving a clear streak in the ash that clung to her skin.

"Thank you, traveler," the woman said, and handed back the vessel. "Bad day to visit, wouldn't you say?"

Anise sat down against the wall a short distance away from her. "Looks like I missed the worst of it," she said.

"It will get worse," the woman said. "Why did you come here?"

"I saw the smoke. I wanted to know what happened," Anise said.

"You thought to steal a few things, more likely."

"I'm not a thief."

"It's what I would do," the woman said. She smiled, but only slightly.

"Tell me what happened here."

"Woodsies. Torched us."

"Why?" Anise asked. "They've never done anything like that before."

"I'm sure they have a reason," the woman said.

Before Anise could ask another question, the door opened and more Laenguir guards stepped through. Every voice in the room stopped. Anise peered through the gaps in the crowd. The last man to enter was dressed differently than the others, and she recognized him immediately. It was Bannon.

"Good evening everyone," Bannon said, smiling sharply at the many men and women gathered in the room. Anise looked away as soon as she saw him. She wasn't sure, but he hadn't seemed to notice her.

"As I stated before, I was sent here by the Council to inspect this settlement. Now, the Naephra have made things difficult for us, but we're still going to do what we can to take care of you."

"What's he doing with the Council?" Anise wondered. All she could do was locker her eyes to the wall, hoping he would not recognize her. The bandaged woman seemed unsurprised, and even bored, by Bannon's arrival, having kept her slightly dazed expression.

"Our first task is to dig out the entrance to the mines. Once that's done, we will have all of you on your way to Laenguir."

"We can't stay here," a man said. "They'll come back!" Others muttered their agreement, but most just stayed silent.

"My men and I will protect you," Bannon said quickly.

One man got up from his spot on the floor with a disheartened grunt and tried to make his way toward the door. Anise glanced behind her to see Bannon put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Headed somewhere?" the Captain asked.

"I'm not staying here. Dig out the mines yourself if you want," the man said.

Anise looked away again. She could almost feel the anger rising in both men, filling the silence between them.

"The best thing for all of you," Bannon said, his voice tightening. "Is to cooperate with the Council. If we work together, we can all leave before daybreak."

"No," the man said. "I'll leave. The magistrate said that we could all leave."

"Magistrate Hilbreck has overstepped his authority, I'm sad to say, and I have ensured that he will be held accountable for his reckless decisions."

Although she dared not turn around to look, Anise knew that Bannon was brandishing his ridiculous grin.

"What have you done with him?" the bandaged woman asked.

"No," Anise thought. "Don't do that. Don't say anything. Don't bring him over here." She considered making a run for the door, but without even being able to turn around and look first, and guessing that Bannon and the guards still blocked the door, she knew it could only end badly. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and leaned close to the wall, drawing her knees up to her chest.

"He is being held under guard at the stables for now. I'll bring him with us to Laenguir to stand trial." Bannon spoke slowly, with careful enunciation of every word, punctuated by the clinking of his scabbard against his belt. He approached their corner of the room, until he was standing right beside her. She saw his boots out of the corner of her eye. With every second that passed, Anise expected him to recognize her and drag her out into the street. She wished for the feeling of a full scabbard at her own waist--a hilt to grasp tightly in her hand.

"Finally, some justice is done," the woman finally said. "The old man was no good to this town."

"It would seem that way," Bannon said. "Women will stay here. The rest of you will come with me. We salvage any mining equipment we can and then we go down."

"I'm not going to that mine," the man said. Anise heard a loud crack, and then the thump of a body falling to the floor. She closed her eyes. There was the shuffling of feet, and another woman near her gasped in surprise. Anise could only cower against the wall and hope that no one touched her. But the scuffle ended quickly.

"Alphus, take him to the stables," the Captain said. When she heard that name, Anise had to look. She peeked out from under her hood to see the men leaving, and there, just behind Bannon, Alphus dragged one man out by his arm. She only looked long enough to see his face, then hid again. He was alive. She recognized his own rhythm, even though she had never heard it before. It matched him: subtle and aching, but willful. She remembered the great black stain of woodsore across his chest, seeping into his body, dissolving it from the inside. He should be dead. No one could have survived that.

"They're gone now," the woman said. Only the women were left in the foyer. There were fifteen, and mostly young. Two were crying.

Anise wanted to tell the woman everything--about the Academy, and the Naephra, and her father--but she knew she could not. The words burned unspoken on her lips but she held them in. She wouldn't believe her, anyway.

Anise got up and went through the door at the back of the room, then closed it behind her. The other women didn't say anything. The next room was a wide chamber with an oval table in the center. The walls were charred black, but someone had lit the lamps. There were doors on the north and south walls, and when she tried the northern one she found that it opened into a small room with only two remaining walls. The outer wall and most of the roof had burned and fallen in. She stepped over the rubble and then she was outside.

Anise thought of running for the forest. She might still be able to find Jarko and help her, or she could simply return to Tamryod. She could pretend she never saw Alphus here. But then she might never know how he had survived that night at the Academy. And she might never be able to say goodbye, or to apologize to him.

The stables were very close. One of the Laenguir guardsmen rounded the corner of the building, and Anise ducked behind a portion of the wall still left standing. The soldier walked slowly, and she waited until he reached the next corner to look out again. His back was turned now as he continued along the side wall, and she crossed the short distance between the two buildings without making a sound.

The fire had eaten away at the siding along the back wall, especially at the rear corner, which looked like it might crumble away the next moment. Anise put her ear up against the wood and listened. She heard the horses still inside, but no other movement or voices. The building was long and narrow and probably housed over twenty mounts at full capacity, although it seemed mostly empty now.

She looked around the corner and saw no one. A few of the planks low in the wall were charred through, and looked like they might give out. Propping her foot against the wall to steady herself, Anise pulled at one of the boards until it snapped off, much more easily than she expected. The hole she had made was still to small, however. She pulled at the next board, as burnt as the last, but it did not splinter. She pushed against it, twisting it down through the space left by the first, and it snapped free. She squatted down to peer through the gap and saw that behind it was an empty stall. After one more glance around her, she pulled herself through the narrow, waist-level gap headfirst, landing on her side in a pile of horse muck on the floor.

Anise would have liked to rub the dung off her clothes, but already she felt that she had made an enormous mistake. If someone found her, then she would have to be brought to Bannon's attention. Even if she found Alphus, she did not know if she could trust him. Still, she ducked her head under the gap below the stall door and scanned the hall. She heard voices now, coming from the far end, inside one of the stalls next to the front gate. The stall door was unlocked, and she crept down the hallway. The few horses that were there eyed her carefully.

"Why should I believe you?" a man said. The voice was unfamiliar, but the man who answered was not.

"You were trying to help your people. You shouldn't be punished for that," Alphus said. Anise slipped into another empty stall and closed the door behind her. There was only one space between her and Alphus now.

"That doesn't matter now," the man said.

"Help me get us out of here," Alphus said. "Tell me where you hid the sivra and I can convince Bannon to let you go."

"Your promises are worth nothing to me. When your Captain finds out you spoke to me--"

"I don't care," Alphus said. "You were ordered to keep some hidden. Separate. Tell me where it is."

"They take people, sometimes. Back to the Thornwood," the man said. "They know what we're doing here."

It was a common superstition in the Eastlands, the idea that Naephra captured humans from time to time. Anise had never heard someone state it as fact, but knowing what humans did to Naephra during the war, it would be hard to rule out the thought as purely myth. From what her father had always told her, the Naephra were not interested in such tactics, especially during peacetime. But peacetime was, for their purposes, over.

"We can protect you," Alphus said. "Once we have the sivra, we can take everyone back to Laenguir. Then we can fight back."

Anise wondered what this sivra was, and why it was so important to Alphus. She guessed that the older man must be magistrate Hilbreck.

"It will never work," Hilbreck said. "Sivra is poison. I won't let these people near it again."

"You're forgetting about me, old man! Sivra saved me and it can save others. If the Naephra are kidnapping people, that's all the more reason to fight them. If you don't tell me where it is, then you'll have blood on your hands."

Anise had never heard Alphus take this tone before--jagged and with actual fear in his voice. She felt the pulsing double rhythm of his heartbeat jolting up her spine, as if she were inside him. His reaction affected the magistrate as well. Hilbreck was silent for a moment, and Anise felt his confusion. His feelings were hazy and dark--less distinct than Alphus's. Finally he spoke again, somewhat calmer now.

"If you take the sivra, you will all be killed," Hilbreck said.

"They killed the only two people I ever loved," Alphus said. "If we don't do something now, there will be nothing stopping them from marching west. I understand you are unsure about the sivra. I don't understand it myself. But it is our only hope of facing them. Without the Eastlands, Saerath will starve. We can't wait for them to make the next move. Please. Help me."

"Follow the river westward down the canyon. There is a small opening in the rock. Find the sivra there."

Alphus left the stall and she heard him close the door behind him without saying anything. Anise held her breath as he moved until she heard him leave the stables. She felt sick, knowing that Alphus believed she was dead.

"Alphus," she said. She opened the door to her stall and followed him outside. She saw him stop and turn around slowly until they faced each other. "You're alive," she said.

Alphus started to speak, but he was cut off when Anise embraced him, squeezing him as hard as she could. She felt his arms wrap around her and the prickly stubble on his chin against her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said, and she felt the tears behind her eyes but shut them tight.

"Don't be sorry," Alphus said. "I don't want you to be sorry."

"Well I am, for once," Anise said. She let go of him. The stars were out in full now.

"How did you get here? You shouldn't be here," Alphus said.

"Neither should you. We need to leave."

"I have work to do," Alphus said.

"You don't owe them anything," Anise said.

"If I don't do this, more men will die. And they'll keep dying. We need this, Anise. The sivra can change everything."

"It sounds like you want another war."

"We're already at war--we're fighting it."

"And you should be dead from it," Anise said. "You got a second chance. Let someone else fight for once. Let's just go. We'll figure something out."

"I can't," Alphus said. "This isn't my second chance, it's my only chance. I have to do something."

"The treaty can be renegotiated. This isn't your responsibility."

"Yes it is." Alphus said. "I let you trespass in the Thornwood. Without that none of this would have happened."

"No, that was my fault alone, not yours. I've already paid for that mistake, I promise."

"What do you mean? What happened?" Alphus asked.

"The Naephra found me. They punished me for it," Anise said.

"You're speaking nonsense. Why would they let you live?"

"No, listen to me!"

"That is enough," Alphus said.

"Alphus, please believe me. Just let me explain it."

"You are a curse, Anise Eckley," Alphus said. "If you ever cared for me, then you'll never come near me again."

"Please, Alphus, I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just leave."

The rocks kept their silence but let the sound of Alphus's footsteps echo in chorus through the canyon. His lantern glowed bright orange behind the dull glass and its light danced in the crevices of the rock as he descended the steep switchback path to the base of the canyon.

"I should turn back now and pretend I never heard anything," Alphus thought. If Crofley knew he had interrogated the magistrate and gone off on his own without orders, he would be furious, especially if he came back empty handed. He thought of Anise, and wished that there was something he could do to help her. But the risk was too great. If she had any sense left, she would get as far away from Orreck and Bannon as possible. He wondered why she would lie to him. Even though they had fought in the past, as far as he knew she had never told him an outright lie before. Now she was babbling about the Naephra, just like Hilbreck. But he resolved not to waste any more thoughts on her--she was well outside his protection now, and he had bigger responsibilities. If there was sivra here, not buried under tons of rock, then he had to find it. Alphus wasn't sure he believed the Magistrate, but if there was even a chance he was telling the truth, then it would be worth the search. He did not want to be out here longer than he had to, and he especially did not want to spend all night digging while the Naephra could be circling--waiting to ambush them in the dark, cramped ravine.

Alphus came to the river's edge at the bottom of the canyon. The water here moved quickly and noisily. He set his lantern on the ground and knelt, cupping the water in his hands and drinking it. He wanted to lie down in his bed, back at the Academy. The thought occurred to him that he may never see the place again.

The sword at his hip felt heavy as he walked along the riverside, following it west and upstream. The canyon wall was steep and impossible to climb, and it left barely an arm's length of loose rock for him to navigate between it and the water on his right. Soon even this narrow shore disappeared, forcing him to walk through the shallow edge of the riverbed. The water soaked through his boots, and soon he could hardly move his toes from the cold. Every few steps he examined the rock wall for gaps or alcoves where a small cache of sivra might be hidden, but the wall was polished smooth.

The roar of water filled the canyon. Ahead he saw that the river grew deeper, with large boulders blocking the shallow path along the water's edge. He could not continue.

"I missed it somewhere," Alphus thought. "It has to be here." Yet he knew it wasn't so. He had proved himself a fool for believing the magistrate's rantings. He switched the lantern to his other hand and carefully turned to go back.

As soon as he turned around he saw it. There, in the canyon wall, impossible to see from the other direction, was a small alcove in the rock, barely more than a crevice. It would only be visible from the exact place where he now stood. He heard the beating of his heart in his ears, even over the sound of the rushing water.

"Yes," he said softly. He knew it was what he'd been searching for. It had to be. A slit in the rock, black and narrow like a reptile's pupil. Alphus approached the crevice, climbing up over wet boulders to where it was hidden, ten or twelve feet above the waterline. Only be straining his neck could he peer into the cleft, but it was too dark to see inside, even with the lantern raised to eye level. Alphus didn't even know what to look for--the sivra Cartha had given him she had kept in a tiny glass vial. He had not thought to ask Hilbreck how much sivra there was, or what kind of container held it. The opening was hardly bigger than Alphus's head, so anything stored there could not be big.

Unable to climb any higher, Alphus reached his arm up to the crevice and felt around the bottom edge of the opening with his hand. He entertained one last flicker of doubt before plunging his hand into the opening.

He had only reached in as far as his elbow when he felt the back of the small chamber. He followed it downward with his fingertips but did not touch the bottom. Alphus stretched his arm as far as he could, pressing the side of his face against the cold hard rock to get more reach. He swept his hand through the seemingly bottomless crevice.

"It's here," he thought. "Hilbreck was telling the truth. This cave proves it. It has to be inside."

Something brushed against Alphus's fingertip. It felt smooth, and he thought he heard something shift behind the rock. Alphus let go of his lantern, and the metal housing crashed against the rocks and splashed into the water. He didn't need it now. With his other hand now free, he grabbed onto a small ledge above him and pulled himself upward. Supported only by the tips of his fingers on the ledge and angling his feet against the vertical rock face, Alphus pushed his arm into the crevice up to his shoulder. With that arm he held up most of his weight, although he struggled to keep from slipping out again. He could not hold this position for very long. But finally he felt the bottom of the alcove. Again, he felt something smooth resting on the floor. Glass. Alphus closed his fingers around the object. Carefully, and as slowly as he could, he let himself slip down, out of the crevice. His shoulder was out. His feet slid down the rock, then touched the boulder where he had stood. His hand still inside the rock, Alphus turned his head to look and pulled it out, careful not to knock the object against the rock. His entire arm was now free, and he held up the object, away from his shadow. It was a tall but thin glass bottle, wrapped around the base and up to the lower neck with a thick rough fabric, and sealed with a cork at the top.

He felt the shifting of something inside the glass. When he tilted the bottle on its side, a dark liquid came into view in the clear glass at the neck. He'd found it. Sivra. Quite possibly all that remained of the substance, all in a humble glass bottle, unmarked, and dusty from its hiding place.

Alphus knew he had to take it to Bannon. Whatever else would come of him finding it, he had to do that first. For a moment he thought of withholding it--delivering it to Cartha himself--but of course he could not, he decided. He followed the river back down the canyon. Bannon and the others would be preparing to dig out the cave, and he guessed that he might be able to convince the Captain to return to Laenguir immediately.

He let himself rest briefly by the riverside, dipping his hand in the cold clear water. He could not remember the last time he was alone in an unfamiliar place. It felt good.

Footsteps echoed off the canyon walls. Alphus gripped his sword hilt as he faced the woman approaching him. It had grown dark quickly but he saw all he needed to see: the moonlight shining green in her eyes.

"Good evening," the Naephra said, and she smiled.

"Stay back!" Alphus said. For the first time in his life, he did not know what to do next. The Naephran woman stood between him and Orreck, and behind him was the impassable ravine. He was trapped.

"I am surprised to see you again, Alphus," she said. "You were very fortunate to survive."

"So were you," Alphus answered.

"Ah, you do remember me."

"I remember. Now let me through."

Alphus drew his sword. The sound of the blade as it scraped across the sheath made him shiver. He kept a neutral stance, with the sword held out in front of him. The woman smiled too, a look of vain amusement, baring her bone-white teeth. She had a sword too, he noticed, but kept it in its scabbard at her back.

"And I remember striking your heart," she said. "Which means you should be dead."

"That must be frustrating," said Alphus. He struggle to read her. She stood exactly still, even down to her fingers. It was a level of discipline he had never seen before--a stillness of absolute focus and cunning. Utter self control. He realized that he was afraid of her. He remembered how it felt when she struck him at the Academy--the intense pain pushing through his chest, bubbling up his neck and down to his stomach. And he remembered the ease with which she had inflicted it, with a movement so quick and effortless that he could never prepare for it. To extend an arm and without touching him, send a man to the ground: that was the power that a Naephra wielded in battle. Even if it did not kill him, if she were to strike from range like that again, he would have no way to respond, to counterattack. He had to be closer.

"You are frightened of me," she said, and frowned. "But I am only curious. How did you survive that night?"

"I guess I was lucky," Alphus said.

"I already said you were fortunate. That does not answer my question. Humans are much too vulnerable. I need a proper explanation."

"Maybe you're the one who was too weak. Go ahead. Try again." Alphus took one step toward the woman, his sword still raised. She did not respond. Another step. Nothing. They were only a few strides apart now, and the same distance between the walls of the ravine on his right and the rushing water on his left. If he forced her to move, he thought, he could strike her down. But he had to react quickly, and she had to react rashly.

"Show me. Strike," he said. He pointed the tip of his sword out toward the center of her body. "Strike!"

She didn't move. She was trying to goad him on, he realized, even as he tried to do the same to her. But all Alphus had to do was escape--she was the one who had to attack. That was the crucial difference, and he had to exploit it. He took another step, toward the wall this time, while aiming his sword at his opponent. He gripped the bottle of sivra tightly in his left hand.

"It's almost over," he thought. After a few more steps, there would be nothing else between him and the town. And still she did nothing. He wondered if she would simply let him go.

"Jarko?" said a voice. Its sound was an alarm bell in Alphus's head, for he recognized it before the word was fully spoken, and it made him break his gaze with the Naephra, turning his head to face the source of the word. Anise. And it was that instant when the Naephra struck, extending her legs, one behind and one in front of her, lowering her torso, and finishing the movement by shooting both arms forward, palms facing out. Alphus's body reacted on its own to her movement at the edge of his vision, shifting his focus back to her, but that was all he could do before he felt the pain.

The agony released a scream from his lungs. His memory of what he'd felt at the Academy, he realized now, was a mere shadow of the actual pain--pain that he felt again now, as it filled his chest and rushed through every part of his body. He heard Anise shouting, but it sounded far away. His legs shook, but he realized that he was still standing. Somehow, he had not fallen. And then the heat came, wet and bubbling, starting in his chest, underneath the deep black scar and spreading everywhere. The glowing, white heat he had felt when Cartha gave him the sivra. Everything inside him burned, but the pain didn't bother him now. It seemed distant and contained. He could focus again.

Alphus lunged, shooting his sword toward the Naephra's heart. She twisted her body away from the blade's path, but not quickly enough to avoid it completely. When he drew back the sword, it sent an arc of blood streaming through the air. He lunged forward again, but his stroke met empty air. "I have to protect Anise," he thought. "I have to put myself between her and the Naephra." His scorn for her had dissolved, and he remembered the bond that they shared.

Now that she knew the woodsore had no effect on him, the Naephran woman would draw her sword. His next attack had to be even stronger. A lethal blow. But before he could strike again, something pushed him to the ground. He held the bottle away from his body as he fell, and he felt it slip from his hand. The weight on his back pushed his face into the dirt. Sharp rocks jabbed his wrist as Anise held his sword hand down.

"What are you doing?" Alphus said. He struggled, trying to pull his legs up underneath him. Anise lunged for the bottle, and when she did he twisted himself away from her.

"Get behind me, Anise," Alphus said.

"No," said Anise.

"You're confused, Anise. I don't know what happened to you, but you have to listen to me. She wants to kill us. I can protect you, just stay with me."

"Throw that bottle to the rocks," the Naephra said. "Do it now." Blood ran down her arm in a black stripe from where he had struck her shoulder.

"Let us go," Anise said. She slowly crouched down and placed the bottle on the ground.

"We cannot let him take that!" the Naephra said.

There were more footsteps coming from up the ravine. The sound of a group approaching.

"Anise, take the bottle and go with me," the woman said.

But they could not escape now. Alphus saw them first, Bannon and three guards walking toward them along the riverside.

"Anise? Bannon said, surprised. She picked up the bottle again and turned to see the Captain. The Naephra stepped back as they approached, until they stood side-by-side.

"She has sivra in that bottle, sir!" Alphus said. "She won't listen to reason. I think the Naephra did something to her."

"Then take it from her!" Bannon said. "Anise, you'll want to do as I say this time."

"Let me help you," Alphus said as he approached them. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Naephra, on your knees," Bannon said. But she did not move.

"Let us go," Anise said.

"You know we can't do that," Bannon said. "It's time to pay for your mistakes. For Alphus's sake, I won't kill you in front of him."

His words shocked Alphus. He did not know that Bannon was capable of such a thing--to kill a former cadet, captured and unarmed.

"Please, Anise, just surrender. We won't hurt you if you just cooperate," Alphus said.

"Quiet, boy!" Bannon said.

"I'll give it to you, just let us leave," Anise said.

"No!" said the Naephra.

"On your knees, both of you!" Bannon said.

Anise slowly lowered herself into a kneeling position. Jarko, directly behind her, remained standing, until one of the guards kicked her leg and she fell. The sight of his friend kneeling on the ground, afraid for her life, burned into Alphus's eyes. She looked at him with a glare that tore through all their history together, their friendship, and now, the only thing left was the gulf between them. And he wished she had just stayed away.

"I'm sorry," Alphus said.

"I don't care," she answered. Anise set the bottle on the ground in front of her.

"I will kill you," the Naephra said to Bannon. "You will die like the low animal that you are."

"Charming," Bannon said. "Take it, Alphus."

Alphus bent down and picked up the sivra, holding it tightly with both hands.

"Good," said Bannon. "Anise, thank you."

Anise reacted instantly, jumping to her feet again before Crofley could finish his last word. Her body jolted, and she flung her arms forward, and Alphus heard the crack in the air invisible bolt passed and Bannon flew backward into the rock. There was a loud pop as his head struck stone. He slumped down against the canyon wall, his eyes white beacons of fear. He breathed, and his body shook from it. Alphus tore his gaze away from the Captain to see Anise, strangely serene, staring back at him, daring him to make a move. But he couldn't. Not to her. And she knew it.

The Naephran woman leapt into the fast-moving water and Anise followed her, then they were gone deep into the canyon.

The river was shallow but cold, and Anise pushed off against the bed as she swam. She had lost track of Jarko as soon as they had hit the water. All she knew was that the river led into the Thornwood. The canyon narrowed and the river deepened; she could almost touch both walls with her arms outstretched. The current was weak, but Anise's body was spent, and she had to concentrate to keep her head up out of the water. The cold made her breath quick and sharp. The high walls of the canyon blocked out the light so that all she saw was black rock and black water.

The canyon kept going, and Anise kept swimming, desperately. And then she couldn't feel the rock walls anymore, and even though she knew it couldn't be, she feared that the river had swept her out to sea and when she lost all her strength she would sink down to the bottom. But then she felt riverbed under her feet again, and she pushed through the water and found that it was quite shallow, and she finally crawled up the bank and onto soft grass. She heard trees waving in the night breeze over her head.

"Jarko!" she yelled. The oppressive noise of the forest wormed into her head again and sparked up and down her spine. Mixed in with the endless buzzing she felt the calm, steady beat of Jarko's anima in the distance. Anise pushed herself up onto her feet and moved between the trees. She was close. Blue glowing moss clung to the trees and hung like shrouds from the low branches. She felt insects and birds fleeing as she walked. Ahead, Jarko sat against a tree trunk. She didn't look up as Anise sat down near her.

"How bad is it?" Anise asked.

Jarko tore off the sleeve of her shirt and tied it around the cut in her upper arm. She then took a pinch of something from a small pouch at her waist and rubbed it into the wound. She winced.

"Your friend will not even leave a scar," Jarko said. She tilted her arm up, examining it, and seemed satisfied with her treatment. The light from the moss reflected in the trickle of blood running down her arm, and she didn't bother to wipe it off.

"What were you doing there, in the canyon?" Anise asked.

"Naephra had been there. I wanted to see what they had done. I did not know your friend would be there." Jarko said.

"You wanted to kill him."

"Again you blame me for the consequences of your actions."

"We're not talking about me, we're talking about you. You knew about the sivra all along, didn't you?" Anise said.

"Yes," Jarko said.

"Then Irel ordered the raid on Orreck."

"No," Jarko said.

"Don't lie!"

"I came here to find out what happened. I have."

"And you condone it, don't you?" Anise said. "You know who did it, and you would have done the same."

"I will not be judged by you, kavi," Jarko said. "You contributed your share to the coming suffering. Because of you, the humans have sivra. They will go to war with us, and many will die."

"I was trying to save our lives!"

"You were scared and weak. You should have smashed the sivra on the rocks and ran. But you wanted your friend to take it. You wanted him not to hate you. I could hear it." Jarko touched her finger to her chest. She knew what Anise felt.

"You think you know me so well. What am I feeling now?" Anise asked. She let her anger build up, feeding on itself, feeding on everything this Naephra had done to her. How she had humiliated her and caused her pain.

Jarko smiled. "All this, and yet you still care for me," she said. "It hurt you to see me in pain."

"I would enjoy it very much right now," Anise said. The Naephra was lying. Teasing her, like she always had.

"Yes, give pain. Do you know how to give anything else? Even to ones you love?"

"I don't love anyone, least of all you."

Jarko got up, scraping her back up the side of the tree trunk. "Tell me, kavi: what am I feeling now?"

Anise breathed in deeply, reflexively, and she felt the noise approach her. Jarko's rhythm rattled in her ears, dark but strangely empty. The hollowness spoke a deep disappointment, clashing with her own rhythm and pushing it back. There was nothing for her.

"Have you realized your second mistake yet?" Jarko asked.

"I've had enough of this," Anise said, but she could not leave.

"You struck Bannon Crofley with anima. It was very impressive, I admit. No one taught you. You simply did it. But the humans do not know the kavi like we do. What will they think of you?"

"He deserved to die. And they already want me dead."

"Bannon will not die," Jarko said. "He already survived a bolting at our first meeting. That is what the sivra does. Yes, they do want you dead. But now they do not know what you are. They will try to find out. Who will they go to?"

"Alphus doesn't know anything," Anise said. "He'll be as shocked as anyone. I didn't tell him anything."

"But they will suspect him. They will wonder if he plotted with you. Humans kill humans for less."

"What was I supposed to do? He was going to kill us!"

"You were weak, and you were afraid. Act from weakness, and you will die."

"Judge me all you want. I can only do what I think is right," Anise said.

"Then think better!" Jarko turned and pushed through the brush, and the darkness covered her.

"Where are you going?" Anise asked.

"Tell my father I am going to Shilenguir. And if he has any courage, he will follow."

Shilenguir. The city lost to the Naephra at the close of the War of Thorns. If Jarko was headed there, Anise thought, then there could be no doubt that she intended to fight. The city was a sacred jewel to the Naephra, and a source of enduring shame for humanity, lost bitterly and held ferociously. As the Laenguir army had burned and resettled the western reaches of the Thornwood, so had the Naephra overtaken the northern plains at Shilenguir.

If Jarko wanted to fight, she thought, then she would let her. There would be no changing her mind anyway. The Naephran woman said nothing else, and eventually the quiet sounds of her movement through the forest faded away, and then her anima was silent too. She thought again of the emptiness in Jarko's heart. Even after nearly dying together, the Naephran still felt nothing more than a passing curiosity and annoyance toward her. Anise could have accepted outright hatred--she had tried to kill her at first--but Jarko's ambivalence only heated her own frustration with her.

Anise knew that she would not be able to rest that night, with her soggy clothes and a mind blistering with anxiety. She began walking, not willing to fully acknowledge her destination, but knowing that there was only one place for her to go.

Alphus and the other guards helped Bannon to his feet. The Captain struggled to keep from falling, but pushed the men away, almost growling at them. His eyes were blank for a time, and Alphus knew too well the intense pain he was surely experiencing now. But he quickly regained himself.

"We'll follow them," Bannon said.

"Sir, we have the sivra," Alphus said. "They've gone toward the Thornwood. We won't find them."

"Until we bring that to Cartha, we don't know what it is," Bannon said. He stood upright now, as if nothing had happened. "Wait for us at the Magistrate's. And tell no one of this!" The Captain waved to the other three and they set off down the ravine along the water's edge. Their lanterns threw long shadows across the rock.

Alphus began the climb up the cliff-side path back to the settlement. Seeing Anise unsettled him, enough to ask himself if it had even happened. But of course it was her. He remembered the hideous feeling of her body pressing him into the ground, and he could only wonder why she had gone against him, and why she had allied herself to the same Naephra who had nearly killed him. Stuck in his memory was the glare she had fixed on him as she knelt. Beneath its anger there was a sadness, too, that spoke of their years together. Or perhaps, he thought, he only imagined that aspect, coloring it with his own desires.

He felt alone. More so than when he had thought her dead, strangely. And again he faced the realization that he would never see her again, and the only clues to the mystery of her survival were the few words of anger and desperation spoken to him in their brief encounter. As best he could, he tried to process what had happened. She had called the Naephran woman by name. Jarko, she had said. And she knew of the sivra. They both had. The realization chilled him. If the Naephra already knew of the sivra, he thought, then Crofley's entire plan might be jeopardized. It would confirm what Hilbreck had told him, that the Naephra knew much more about them than anyone had guessed.

But Alphus could not understand how Anise had turned traitor--how it was even possible. The Naephra had come after her at the Academy, after all. And now she worked together with them. He remembered their meeting at the stables. What she said then only confused him more, now. He should not have pushed her away--he knew that much. It had thrilled him to rebuke her. He had known it was wrong, and that she needed him, but still he had pushed her away.

When he reached the magistrate's building, Alphus could barely stand, and his body shivered repeatedly, despite the warm night breeze off the plains. He leaned against the charred wall of the once-ornate house and slumped to the ground.

"You alright, cadet?" said the Laenguir guard, standing by the entrance. Alphus had failed to notice him as he approached.

He couldn't think of anything to say, and so waved his hand dismissively at the man, unable even to meet his eye. The guard said nothing else, but kept watch on him. Alphus still felt the faint heat of the woodsore in his chest, flared with every breath. He wondered if there would be a new black scar beneath his shirt, but he couldn't bring himself to look. He slipped his hand under the hem and moved his fingers up the smooth skin of his stomach, up to the rough scar tissue over his breast. He traced the edge of it around his body, up underneath his arm, to his neck, across his other shoulder. He winced as he moved across the other side of his chest, just the light pressure of his fingers burning beneath his skin. The black territory had grown, now. But he was alive. He did not feel imminent death, like he did after the first bolting.

It was well into the night when Bannon and the other guards returned, leading horses from the stables. Anise and the other Naephra were not with them, although one of the horses did have a rider: his head was covered by a sack, but Alphus recognized it as Hilbreck. Alphus did not like seeing him treated so harshly, but he realized that being taken as a prisoner back to Laenguir might be preferable to being left here in the Eastlands. And if he told Bannon how the magistrate had helped him find the sivra, it might spare the man some of his punishment.

"Mount up," Crofley said, when they were close. "We leave tonight."

The words came to Alphus's mind, to ask about the settlers. About what would be done for them. But he stopped himself. It would be pointless to ask, he realized.

"Tell the other men. We're leaving."

The guard went inside the magistrate's building and returned with the others. The villagers followed him out.

Bannon spoke to the assembly. "We'll be taking the magistrate to Laenguir to stand trial. As soon as they are able, I'm sure the Council will send guards to re-establish the settlement. Until then, without a magistrate, Orreck has no charter, and you are free to do as you please."

"Let us follow you back to the city, at least out of the Eastlands," a man said. "In case the woodsies come back."

"Follow us if you wish, but we will ride hard through the night," Bannon said.

One of the settlers set off running for the stables, and more followed after him. Of course there were only a few horses kept there, Alphus remembered, kept to haul carts for mining work. Probably no more than thirteen or fourteen--not nearly enough for everyone.

"We'll need one for the magistrate, sir," one of the guards said to Bannon.

"What about you give us your mounts, and you can follow us?" a man said. He was shorter, as most of the miners were, but muscled from his work. The threat in his voice was all too plain.

Bannon got off his horse. He strode up to the man and looked into his eyes, and he rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, the sheath jutting out behind him. "Go ahead. Take her," he said.

The man stood firm at first. Then his shoulders slouched and his gaze fell. Bannon stepped back and mounted his horse, and Alphus followed after. The Captain spurred and they all rode off down the main street. Alphus did not look behind him as they left.