“What is it?” They sounded as frightened as she felt.

“I don’t know. Riverwash is gone—the whole town—burned in a few moments, I would guess. I couldn’t—I can’t imagine how to stop it—and the taig—” She was shaking, hardly able to talk.

“We must go across after it passes,” the patrol leader said. “As soon as it’s cool enough.”

“But someone must warn Tsaia,” another said. “They must know what this fire can do. Harway’s built of wood as much as Riverwash.”

“May it blow back upon those who set it,” said another.

“It is aiming for our king,” Arian said. She imagined the fire as alive, sniffing out the way she and Kieri and the Pargunese king had gone from Riverwash to Chaya.

“Fires do not aim,” the patrol leader said.

“This one does,” Arian said. She could feel it through the taig, the eager questing nose of flame, the long sinuous body of it, spreading but slowly to either side … like a daskdraudigs of flame, almost.

“Almost,” said the man at her side. He was afoot; she had not seen him before, but now saw him more clearly than the darkness should allow. Her mount snorted and backed away so fast, it almost sat on its hocks. A faint odor of hot metal came from him.

“Who are you?” the patrol leader asked. “A Pargunese spy?” He drew his sword.

“Pargun is of no interest to me,” the man said. “Nor is your sword a threat. That fire, however, is. Who set that fire?”

“The Pargunese,” Arian said. “Or some of them. The King of Pargun would not, but his brother would.”

The man looked at her; behind his eyes, flames danced.

“You are a fire-setter,” she said. “Your eyes—”

“But reflect the true fire,” he said. “See?” He moved so the flames were behind him, and his eyes merely glittered in the reflected light.

“I’m sorry,” Arian muttered.

“It is well,” the man said. “Now, I must follow the fire, for reasons that do not concern you, and I must also find who set it. I would have one of you, just one, as my guide and companion. The rest should ride to warn others, as you were planning.”

The patrol leader opened his mouth, but the man’s glance silenced him; the man looked at each in turn and then at Arian. “I choose you. Come.” He walked away east down the road. Arian’s horse shuddered, then took a step forward.

“Arian, you can’t—” the patrol leader started.

“I must,” she said. She wondered why she was so certain of that, but she had no doubt.

When they reached the place where the fire had crossed the road, the man paused, knelt, and put his face to the stones that stood blackened out of ashes. Arian, watching closely, thought she saw his tongue emerge, touch the stone, and glow slightly.

He stood up once more looking north to what had been Riverwash, where a few yellow fires burned to either side. “Fools,” he said. “They have no idea what they have loosed, or what the cost will be.”