“Is there another way out of these rooms?”

He nodded.

“Good. Take the priest and go.”

:Juran, she called as the two men left via a side door.

:Yes?

:The Pentadrian spy is here.

:Already?

:Yes. She made the link stronger and let him see the sorcerer through her eyes.

:What can you glean from his mind?

:Nothing. I can’t read his mind. Is this a common Pentadrian skill?

:I don’t know. We have to consider the possibility. I will contact Dyara.

:He sought me out. There is no other reason for him to come into the house. Are you sure he’s a spy? That’s not spy-like behavior.

:He must think you are a priestess of some importance and he intends to force information out of you. I doubt he knows who you are.

“You must be Auraya of the White,” the Pentadrian said.

She stared at him in surprise.

:So much for that theory, she thought at Juran. Where is Dyara?

:An hour’s ride away, Dyara answered. Keep him talking, Auraya, and inside the house. I will be there soon.

“I am Auraya,” she said. “Who are you?”

“I am Kuar, First Voice of the Gods,” he replied.

:Great Chaia! The leader of the Pentadrians? Juran said incredulously. Why would the leader of a cult venture into the north alone? He must be lying.

The Pentadrian started moving toward her, one slow step at a time.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I came to see you,” the sorcerer replied.

“Me? Why?”

“To learn…” He reached her barrier. As he spread his hands out before it his tawl parted to reveal black clothing and a silver star pendant. She frowned. A spy wouldn’t travel in a strange land with only a tawl to hide the dress of his people.

“What do you wish to learn?” she asked.

A blast of power battered her shield, sending whips of lightning-like magic across its surface. She gasped at the strength of it. The attack stopped and he regarded her coolly.

“How strong you heathens are,” he replied.

She fixed the Pentadrian with what she hoped was a cold stare. “Did that answer your question?”

The sorcerer shrugged. “Not quite.”

Auraya crossed her arms and stared defiantly. Inside she was trembling with shock.

:Juran, she said. I suspect your theory that one powerful sorcerer is born every hundred years is wrong. And I think your spy theory is wrong too.

:I fear you are right on both counts, Juran agreed. He is strong, but so are you.

:But I’ve barely learned more than how to shield myself!

:That’s all you need. When Dyara gets there she will deal with him.

The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed. A second blast of magic set her barrier humming. On either side of the room, stray magic scalded paint and set furnishings ablaze. As the attack increased, she drew more and more magic to resist it.