Because too many children had perished already. Dorana’s sad future, buried in tiny little graves.

“It was Councillor Horbeck.”

Oh. Well, yes. Once blood-rot set in, there was little anyone could do, even a skilled pother like Ranmer. Ever since the councillor fell off that treacherous mountain ledge, she’d known it was simply a matter of time. And with Horbeck dead, so too died the General Council. Dreen Brislyn had perished in Benbarsk. Mauled by a bear. Perhaps when they were settled in their new home they’d create a new council. That was what civilised people did, after all.

“But I’m not going to fret on it,” Remmie added. “We still have Venette to lead us. The Council of Mages lives on in her. And we have you, Barl.”

“No, we have you. How many times must I say it, Remmie? Don’t look for me to play councillor. I’m not about to tell other mages what to do. Not when—”

Not when I’m responsible for their plight.

“All right, all right,” he said, hands lifting. “I’m too tired to argue.”

Fine. Then they could talk about something that had been puzzling her.

“Remmie. This place. Lur. There’s another power here, in the bones of the land. Separate from the power we feel everywhere else, as mages. And it’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before. When I touch it I feel… different.” But that sounded like nonsense. She scrubbed her face with her hands. “Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s all in my mind.”

“No, I feel it too,” said Remmie, sighing. “And so does Venette, I think. Maybe some of the others, though many of us are still so ill and injured and weak, it might be weeks before we can be sure.” He bit his lip. “What d’you think it means?”

She frowned. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out. We ran from Dorana because of my mistakes, Remmie. And we’re in Lur because Venette—because everyone—trusted me. I won’t have brought us here to die.”

“You can’t think this power is dangerous. Not to us.”

“Why? Because we’re the vaunted mages of Dorana?” She snorted. “Now who’s being arrogant? Surely I’ve proven we’re as vulnerable to magic as any magickless race.”

His lips pinched at that. “Barl, if we’re in danger here it’s the same danger the Olken face.”

And that much was true. Nearly all the talk of the Black Woods villagers was about Lur’s drought, its worsening famine, the growing fear that rain might not fall again before it was too late. True, there were underground springs but they were starting to run dry. Even the abundant Black Woods were showing the strain… especially now, with so many Doranen mouths to feed.