Even without a window, Talia knew when it was sunrise. She wasn’t much surprised to discover that Kris had beaten her to breakfast by a few minutes. No one else was even stirring. She didn’t pay much attention to what she was eating; some kind of grain porridge with nuts and mushrooms, she thought. It was as bland as the dinner had been.

“The boy is harnessing for us,” Kris said around a mouthful. “We can be on the road as soon as you’re ready.”

She washed down the last bite of the gluey stuff with a quick gulp of unsweetened tea. “I’m ready.”

“Then let’s get going.”

They cantered out the village until they reached the outskirts before settling back to a slower pace.

“Well?” Kris asked, when they were well out earshot of the village.

“There’s something not quite right around here,” Talia replied, “but I can’t put my finger on anything. All I’ve got is a feeling—and that no one wants to talk about ‘bad times’ around here. It may just be an isolated case of discontent—”

She shook her head, suddenly feeling dizzy.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t—know. I feel a little funny all of a sudden.”

“You want to stop a minute?” Kris asked, sounding concerned.

She was about to say “no” when another wave of disorientation hit. “I think I’d better—”

Their Companions moved over to the grassy verge of the road on their own. Rolan braced all four legs and stood rock-still, while waves of dizziness washed over her. She didn’t dismount—she didn’t dare; she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get back up again. She just clung to the saddle, and hoped she wouldn’t fall off.

“Want to go back?” Kris asked anxiously. “Think you need a Healer?”

“N-no. I don’t think so. I don’t know—” The disorientation didn’t seem quite so bad, after a bit. “I think it’s going away by itself.”

Then, as the dizziness faded, so did the empathic awareness of those around her; an awareness she always had, no matter how tightly shielded.

“Goddess!” Her eyes snapped open and she looked frantically around her, as Kris grabbed her elbow, anxiously. “It’s—” She unshielded. It was the same. She could sense nothing, not even Kris, beside her. “It’s gone! My Gift—”

Then it was back—redoubled. And she, unshielded and wide open, bent over in physical pain at the mental clamor of what seemed to be thousands of people. Hastily she shielded back down—

Only to have the clamor vanish again.

She remained bent over, head in hands. “Kris—Kris, what’s happening to me? What’s wrong?”

He was steadying her as best he could from his saddle. “I don’t know,” he said tightly, “I—wait—wasn’t there some kind of mushroom in that glop they fed us?”