Shaken, Venette did as she was told, and left the girl alone.

Two days after the Circle was formed, overcrowded Gribley began emptying of its extra Olken. Asked by Elder Chaffie to leave their chiming stones behind for the Doranen, Jervale and his new friends split theirs in two, gave half to Chaffie then cracked the other half into pieces, for swapping, so the Circle would remain unbroken. With that done, Jervale bid them farewell. Promised he’d chime them when he knew what next to say. What the Doranen planned to do. What that was he hoped to find out by speaking with Barl Lindin, before he left for home.

Bannet decided to ride for a time with Boyde and Emmie, wanting a chance to know them better. “So it’s peace to you, Jervale,” he said. “Never doubt you’ve done what’s right.”

“I don’t,” he said, returning his new friend’s hearty clap on the back. “And I thank you. I’d have walked a lonesome road, I reckon, without you at my side.”

“And I’d have lived the rest of my life dull,” said Bannet. “Funny, ain’t it, how things turn out.”

Halfway to the Doranen camp, Jervale crossed paths with Del of Westwailing. The tiny life within her set his instincts freshly ablaze.

In the Final Days shall come the Innocent Mage…

“I’m off,” she said, and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek. “Take care of yourself, Jervale.”

It was in him to warn her, but instinct stopped his tongue. Del was promised to a boy in Restharven. Folk would think the babe was early. No-one would know.

Except for Tilly. When the time comes I’ll tell her. She’ll inherit my task.

“Ride safely,” he told Del, and waved the lass out of sight.

Then he went in search of Barl Lindin, but instead of finding her, he found Lady Martain.

“I’m sorry,” the mage said. “She is busy. Good day.”

There was no arguing with a Doranen. They were a haughty, arrogant lot. Never mind. He could wait. Barl Lindin was staying put, wasn’t she? He’d talk to her some other time… once Lur was safe, and green.

Whistling, dreaming of Bene, he harnessed his donkeys and pointed their long, grey noses towards home.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Thirty-nine

The impossible travel incant from the Hall of Knowledge’s most secret archives spat Remmie out a stone’s throw across the border into Dorana’s First district. Spat him out of its magework to sprawl in a pool of his own blood-tainted vomit. Dazed, racked with pain, he lay beneath the fading sky and tried to pull the pieces of his shattered mind together.

Venette… Venette… what did we do?