Druids moved across the valley, dressed in dark green robes, bearing staffs formed of tree roots. Pewter amulets hung around their necks on leather throngs, and heavy hoods shadowed their faces. Hearing the two prisoners shout, the druids turned their heads toward them. One druid stepped forward, the wind beating his cloak. He was an old man of perhaps sixty years—few men lived that long in a world of wild beasts, wars, and harsh winters—and white streaked his long auburn beard. His eyes were deep green flecked with blue, gleaming beneath tufted red eyebrows. His face was weathered and deeply lined, the nose large, the jaw wide, the brow weary and creased.

"The anger burns through you." The old druid stood before Laira and Maev. Sadness filled those deep, moss-colored eyes. "Your fire forever screams for release. You crave the dragonfire, desperate to let it sear your pain away." He nodded and his eyes dampened. "I know of such anger, of such pain. I know why you thrash in your bonds, why you scream. But my children . . . dragonfire is not the answer, not a cure for loneliness. Dragonfire cannot burn your pain away, only make it flare."

Tied to the boulder, Maev and Laira glanced at each other, then back at the druid.

Laira spoke carefully. "Why do you think us lonely?"

Maev was less diplomatic. "If you don't release us, old man, my dragonfire will burn the flesh off your bones, torch every hut here, and make you all scream so loudly your pretty stone statues will crumble." She howled with rage. "Release us!"

The old druid nodded. "I am Auberon of the Cured Druids. I was once like you. I was once . . . a weredragon." He reached out and stroked Maev's face, pulling his hand back when she tried to bite him. "I too was once so angry, so afraid, so lonely, so full of dragonfire. I found a cure." His eyes dampened. "And now I cure others. I can cure you too. I can heal you."

Laira's eyes widened. She gasped. Another Vir Requis! Her heart leaped, and she tugged at the vines binding her to the boulder. Despite being tied in this valley, hope leaped inside her. More Vir Requis lived!

"Auberon!" Laira said. "Auberon, it's not a curse. It's not a disease. I thought so myself once. But . . ." Her eyes stung with tears. "But we have a kingdom now. We have a king. And we know that our magic is pure, a gift from the stars, not a disease. Not—"