Grimalkin always had a good reason for everything she did, so I nodded, swallowed my annoyance, and crawled into the tent first. I was asleep the moment I rolled into my blankets.

When I opened my eyes again and emerged to stare up at the star-filled sky, I estimated that it was close to midnight.

Grimalkin was already waiting outside, Jenny standing beside her.

Without preamble, the witch assassin pointed south, away from the river, and set off at a brisk pace. I looked at the forest of tents on the riverbank and saw lights moving. They were torches; others were walking in the same direction. “Is it safe to leave our possessions unguarded?” I asked.

“I have protected our camp with a spell,” Grimalkin replied, glancing back at me.

Jenny leaned close and whispered in my ear, “Let’s hope the thieves don’t dig under it, then!”

We were crossing flat meadowland, but I could see a hill directly ahead, a dark silhouette against the stars. It wasn’t particularly high, but it stood out from the plain around it. It was almost conical, but flattened at the summit.

As we drew closer, other people pressed in on either side, and we became part of the silent procession. At last we were brought to a complete halt; all we could do was gaze at the hill.

The starlight was bright enough to illuminate the slope facing us. I could see that although the silent gathering had formed a half circle at its base, nobody had set foot on it.

We waited in silence for about five minutes; I knew that it was very close to midnight now. Then three figures began to climb the hill. When they reached the summit, they turned to face us. All three were slim and bearded; they stared out, chins held high, as if their gaze was fixed not upon us but on something higher. They wore gloves and identical robes, their collars trimmed with white animal fur.

The one in the middle cried out in a loud voice. It sounded like a command.

“He told us to kneel and pray,” Grimalkin said.

The people around us began to kneel, and Grimalkin followed suit.

It was astonishing to see her on her knees like that. But if she was prepared to kneel, then so was I; Jenny followed my example. I stared at the hill, where the three figures extended their arms and pointed up to the sky.

“Are they priests?” I whispered into Grimalkin’s ear.

“Not priests of any conventional church. They are holy men called magowie; they are the mages of this land, who claim to see the true reality beyond this world. What we see—the sky, grass, hills, and rocks—is to them just an illusion. They wear gloves because none but a prince or a king may touch their bare hands. Now look at the sky directly above them. What do you see?”

I stared upward. For a moment I could see nothing, but then I made out against the starry background a point of light—very bright . . . and falling toward us.