Three months. There had been no word from her for three months. Now children were traveling over a bridge to the cildru dyathe’s island.

Jaenelle’s new skill would have intrigued him more if Char’s question hadn’t been pounding in his blood, throbbing in his temples.

Why would she go to such an awful place? Why, why, why?

And where?

5 / Terreille

“Briarwood?” Cassandra warmed two glasses of yarbarah. “No, I’ve never heard of Briarwood. Where is it?” She handed a glass to Saetan.

“In Terreille, so it’s probably on Chaillot somewhere.” He sipped the blood wine. “Maybe a small town or village near Beldon Mor. You wouldn’t have a map of that damned island, would you?”

Cassandra blushed. “Well, yes. I went to Chaillot. Not to Beldon Mor,” she added hurriedly. “Saetan, I had to go because…well, something strange has been happening. Every once in a while, there’s a sensation on the Webs, almost as if…” She made a frustrated sound.

“Someone was plucking them and then braiding the vibrations,” Saetan finished dryly. He and Geoffrey had spent hours poring over Craft books in the Keep’s library in order to figure out that much, but they still couldn’t figure out how Jaenelle had done it.

“Exactly,” Cassandra said.

Saetan watched her call in a map and spread it on the kitchen table. “What you’ve been sensing is a bridge that Jaenelle built.” He deftly caught the glass of yarbarah as it fell from her hand. Setting both glasses on the table, he led her to a bench by the hearth and held her, stroking her hair and crooning singsong words. After a while, she stopped shaking and found her voice.

“That’s not how a bridge is built,” she said tightly.

“Not how you or I would—or could—build one, no.”

“Only Blood at the peak of their Craft can build a bridge that spans any distance worth the effort. I doubt there’s anyone left in Terreille who has the training to do it.” She pushed at him, then snarled when he didn’t let her go. “You’ll have to talk to her about this, Saetan. You really will. She’s too young for this kind of Craft. And why is she building a bridge when she can ride the Winds?”

Saetan continued to stroke her hair, holding her head against his shoulder. Five years of knowing Jaenelle and she still didn’t understand what they were dealing with, still didn’t understand that Jaenelle wasn’t a young Queen who would become Witch but already was Witch. But, right now, he wasn’t sure he understood either. “She’s not traveling on the bridge, Cassandra,” he said carefully. “She’s sending others over. Those who wouldn’t be able to come otherwise.”

Would the truth frighten her as much as it had frightened him? Probably not. She hadn’t seen those children.

“Where are they coming from?” she asked uneasily.

“From Briarwood, wherever that is.”

“And going to?”

Saetan took a deep breath. “The cildru dyathe’s island.”

Cassandra pushed him away and stumbled to the table. She grabbed the edge to hold herself upright.