The breeze freshened briefly, rustling the leaves of the trees above him.

"If Lici and I both survive, I'll give it back to her. I swear it."

He expected no response, of course, but it almost seemed that someone was watching him, listening to his oath and making note of it. Besh hurried home.

Sirj was waiting for him in front of their house, sitting on the tree stump and gazing up at the stars. A single candle burned in one of the windows, casting a faint yellow light, but Besh could barely see the man.

"Elica wanted me to tell you that someone came from the village with a sack of food earlier, while you were still in your room. We forgot to mention it while we were eating."

Besh nodded. "Thank you. That's good to know."

"I've put most of it in my travel sack, but I couldn't fit it all." "That's fine. I can carry my share."

Sirj nodded, and they both fell silent.

After several moments, the man nodded at the journal in Besh's hand. "What's that?"

Besh felt his face color and was glad to be standing in the shadows. "It's Sylpa's daybook," he said. "I thought it might be helpful as we search for Lici."

Sirj nodded.

"I took a bit of her money as well. The eldest suggested it." "I'm sure we'll be glad to have it."

Another silence. Besh wondered how he would endure the man day after day.

"You don't have to do this, you know," he said. "I was prepared to go alone. I still am."

"I'm not doing it because I have to."

"Then why?"

"I told you: You're my family. Besides, Elica won't rest a single night while you're gone. You think I want to stay here for that?"

Besh laughed in spite of himself.

Sirj stood and patted Besh's shoulder before starting toward the front door. "You'll see," he said. "It won't be so bad."

Besh said nothing, and long after Sirj had disappeared into the house, he remained where he was, grappling with the realization that he didn't want Sirj with him for one simple reason. He'd never be able to face his daughter or grandchildren if something happened to the man.

Chapter 17

REAPING MOON WANING

Jynna sat with Etan atop the tallest of the low grassy hills that overlooked the plain and lakelands, gazing back eastward to where the ruins of Tivston still darkened the landscape. There was no smoke anymore, and the great flocks of crows and kites had moved on, leaving the bones of her family and friends and neighbors to dry and whiten in the harsh sunlight. Birds still circled over what remained of her home, but only a few, the sad unfortunates who had arrived too late for the feast.

Etan hadn't said much since that first day when T'Noth, T'Kaar, and S'Doryn found him with the others. None of the children had. Even Jynna spoke only occasionally, though she had been the first to meet the Fal'Borna, and had come to trust all three of the men who were caring for them now, even T'Kaar. She simply had little to say. Her thoughts were consumed with memories of her family, grief at the loss of all she had known and loved. When the men asked questions of her, she answered. When they asked her to speak on their behalf to the other children, she did as they requested. The rest of the time she kept to herself, or sat with Etan, saying nothing, but taking comfort from the mere fact that he was there, feeling the same things she was.

Vettala sat a short distance from them, also saying nothing, also looking to the east. She was three years younger than Jynna and Etan, and like them, she had come through that horrible night of disease and wanton magic without injury. She was a pretty girl, fine-featured with long silvery hair and deep golden eyes. Jynna remembered her having a nice smile and a loud bubbling laugh, but she had to trust all to her recollections, for Vettala hadn't made a sound in these eight days. She avoided all of them. Aside from those times when the children were forced to ride, sharing mounts with the Fal'Borna men, she didn't allow anyone to come near her. She ran away from the wounded children-Hey, the older boy who lost his hand to his father's shaping magic; Pelda and Sebbi, sisters burned on their faces and hands and chests by the fire that consumed their home. She refused even to look at the Fal'Borna.

But it seemed that she drew some comfort from having Jynna and Etan nearby. She followed them everywhere, keeping her distance, but also keeping them in sight. Under any other circumstance Jynna would have been annoyed by this; probably she would have tried to run away from the girl. In an odd way, though, she understood. Etan did, too. They made no effort to include her in their conversations or tell her where they were headed each time she started to follow them. But they let her follow, and they kept an eye on her, making certain that she came to no harm.

Jynna wasn't certain what the girl would do once they returned to Lowna and she found herself surrounded by the Fal'Borna. She wasn't even sure that Vettala understood that they would be headed to the city before this day was out. S'Doryn had tried to explain this much to all of them over the past several days, as they awaited the end of their isolation. Vettala, however, had given no indication that she cared or even understood.

Jynna was ashamed to admit it, but she had avoided the injured children as well. She didn't run from them, and when forced to be near them, she tried to be as kind as she could be. But she never chose to be with them. The truth was she felt sorry for them and guilty for having escaped injury. Had her father not sent her away, she might well have been burned or killed herself. None of the other children said anything of the sort to her, but they didn't have to. She knew it was true. So she kept her distance. She avoided T'Kaar as well. Though she trusted that he meant her no harm, she hadn't liked him from the beginning. While others in Lowna had been willing to believe her tale and accept her as one of their own when it became clear that she had lost her family, he continued to doubt her. She liked his younger brother, T'Noth, and S'Doryn, though she even tried to keep away from them at times. Both of them asked her questions constantly. Do you recall seeing anyone unusual in the market that day? Is there more you can tell us about the sickness that took your parents? What else do you remember?

I remember everything! she wanted to scream at them. I remember it all, and I just want to forget!

That was why she stayed with Etan. He didn't ask her anything. He didn't bear any scars from that night, at least none that she could see. He was just like her: sad and scared and desperate to think about anything other than their last day in Tivston.

If only they would let her.

"Here he comes again," Etan said softly, nodding toward the bottom of the hill.

S'Doryn was trudging up the slope, the morning sun at his back so that his shadow reached up the hill, darkening the golden grasses. She'd spotted him several moments before, and she merely nodded.

"He'll ask you more questions," Etan told her.

Jynna nodded at this as well.

"They have to let us live with them, right?" he said. "Even if we can't tell them anything?"

"They don't have to, but they will."

She was mostly certain of this. S'Doryn and T'Noth were too nice to leave them out here alone after all they'd been through. But she wasn't totally sure, which was why she tried to answer the questions as well as she could. Her father and brothers had spoken of the Fal'Borna; of how fierce they were in battle, and of how wary they remained of outsiders. She saw how T'Kaar looked at her still, and she knew this last was true. She remembered U'Selle, the a'laq from Lowna, and she wondered if the woman would welcome the Y'Qatt back to the village if Jynna didn't tell these men what they needed to know. U'Selle had seemed fair-minded, but as a'laq she could do nothing that might endanger her people. What if that included letting Jynna and the others stay with them?