She rolled her eyes and turned back to the rations. “Anyway, that’s my advice. Robes, not City wear. This part of the trip is the hardest. This route is ideal in many ways, but this section is…less than ideal. We will be in the badlands for at least a week, likely longer. Have either of you been in the badlands that long?”

“No. Just a day or two on the way to Vilahna,” I said.

“Me either,” said Sorcha.

Behind us, Tamir let out a sharp, derisive laugh. Shayat watched us closely for a second. She sighed. “You vouched for them, Shayat,” Tamir said. “You’re the one who wanted two city-soft dandies on this route.”

“I know.”

“You remember what I said.” Tamir’s voice had a coldness in it. I glanced over my shoulder, and I read him. I have a peculiar way of doing it—given it’s so steeped in red war magic—that eliminates most of the expected burn. I think it’s a matter of drawing the other person into me rather than invading their minds with mine. I drew him in and felt the utter disdain in which he held me. I felt nothing that suggested he realized I was there with him, that I was a shaper and using my gifts. There was a deep, prickly fear eating at him, a thing that cast the world in shadows and danger. I blinked and turned away.

“Ariah?” Shayat frowned at me.

“Yes?”

“Answer my question!”

“What question?” Beside me, Sorcha laughed.

“Professor, honestly, you’d think you’d listen. This is not an easy trip,” Shayat said. She pulled the pan off the fire and cut an acidic glance my way. “The drain, professor. Do you know about the drain?”

“I don’t.” I looked over at Sorcha. He sat stretched out, languid. He smelled of Bardondour herb. He shrugged.

Shayat sighed again. “There is no magic in the badlands. None at all. It is…unpleasant to be in a place so lacking in magic,” she said.

“It’s just land,” Sorcha said.

“You’ll see what I mean. Take it slow, and stay careful. The drain eats at you and makes you careless. There are things out here—rahksa, the brambles. Bandits are out there. I know the route well, but past Bardondour it becomes dangerous. So, you have to know that going forward. It’s dangerous, and there is the drain, and you need to know that going in.” She glanced over at the pipe I held in my hands. “You may want to stop smoking that until we’re out of the badlands. Best to keep your wits about you.”

“If what you’re saying about the drain is true,” Sorcha said, “and I believe that it is, it sounds right awful. Best to have something on hand to dull it down, eh?”