“If what?” he said, wary. The glitter in her eyes now wasn’t unshed tears.

Arms folded again, tight to her ribs, Mage Lindin turned to stare into the woodland’s depths. “I didn’t lie, Jervale. I do think I can save your people. And mine. But first I need to understand Olken magic. I need to know if what I’m thinking is even possible. It might not be. And if it’s not…”

Then the man she loved would find her… and Lur would be deafened by the sound of leathery wings.

She looked at him, her face naked. “Will you help?”

Barl Lindin was the most dangerous creature he’d ever met. How could he help her, when helping her meant ruin for Lur? But that driving voice inside him was driving him now to say yes. He didn’t understand.

“Please,” said Barl Lindin.

He knew so much about her… and knew nothing at all.

If I trust her, and I’m wrong, Lur’s ruin’ll be my doing. And if I don’t…

If he didn’t, and he was wrong, then that would mean ruin too.

Without warning the hushed Black Woods blurred, and he was thrust into the midst of a waking dream. Instead of crowding trees and leaf-filtered fingers of sunlight he was staring at Lur’s heartland, the gently rolling hills covered in long, rich grass, the flat plain in ripening grain. The pasture was a lush, brilliant green and the ripening grain was turning gold like the sun. He could feel the sun gently warm on his face, not scorching, feel the gentle caress of a breeze, smell the richness of damp earth. And in his bones he could hear the damp earth’s voice… but not as he’d ever heard it before. Now he could hear two voices singing, the sweetest of harmonies, the sweetest of songs. And he knew without knowing how that this was the magic of the Olken and the Doranen mingled, singing together for the plentiful bounty of Lur.

Gasping, he blinked… and was in the Black Woods again.

“What was that?” Barl Lindin demanded. “Jervale, what just happened?”

He waved a hand at her for silence, and took a moment to breathe in and out, breathe hard, shake himself free of the vision.

A vision which makes no sense at all. On the road I dreamed crimson lightning and black hail. Death and destruction for Lur. But now there’s this—this bounty… and what does it mean?

He didn’t know. He didn’t know. All the things he knew… why couldn’t he know this?

“Jervale?” Barl Lindin almost sounded nervous. “Are you ill?”

Trust yourself, Bene would say. You always do what’s right.