Jayim now had a tendency to stray away from lessons into speculation about Auraya or the coming war. When Leiard grew tired of fending off the boy’s questions he simply gave his student the reins.

“I have a question,” Jayim said suddenly.

Well, it works most of the time, Leiard thought wryly.

“Yes?”

“You’ve been teaching me the same sorts of things you did back in Jarime—apart from the mind links. I’d have thought you’d concentrate on teaching me to heal with magic. After all, that’s what we’re here for.”

Leiard smiled. “Teaching magical healing always presents us with a dilemma. How can I teach you to heal when you have no injuries to practice on? We Dreamweavers do not harm others or ourselves in order to provide subjects to heal.”

The boy was silent. “So I won’t learn to heal until we get to the battlefield.”

“No.”

“I was expecting…I thought I’d be…well, ready by the time I got there.”

“Nobody is ever ready to face a battlefield for the first time.” Leiard looked at Jayim and chuckled. “You will learn a lot quickly when you do. Do not fear the learning. I will guide you.”

Jayim shook his head. “No point in worrying about something you can’t avoid; you’ll have enough worries when it happens.”

Leiard looked at Jayim in surprise. “That is an old saying.”

The boy shrugged. “My mother says it all the time.”

“Ah. I imagine you’ve given her many reasons to…”

The tarn before them slowed to a stop. As Jayim pulled on the reins, Leiard peered around the side of the vehicle before them. Another vehicle stood side-on to the lead tarn, blocking its path, and four Dreamweavers Leiard did not recognize stood beside it.

“Looks like our numbers have just grown a little,” Leiard said. “Stay here. I will greet the newcomers.”

He climbed down from the tarn and strode forward. As he drew closer to the strangers he saw that Arleej’s caravan had reached the end of the track. Three vehicles waited on the side of a wider road. Arleej was talking to one of the newcomers, a stocky male Dreamweaver with pale hair. She saw Leiard and beckoned him forward.

“This is Dreamweaver Leiard, former Dreamweaver adviser to the White,” she said. “Leiard, this is Dreamweaver Wil.”

The man was Dunwayan, Leiard noted. Wil’s eyebrows had risen when Arleej had mentioned Leiard’s former position.

“Adviser to the White,” he said. “I had heard something of this.” He paused, then snorted. “I had best tell you now that I have my doubts about the wisdom of it. These White are mind-readers. They could rob us of much of our knowledge.”

“Only that which is valuable and acceptable to them,” Arleej replied. “Which, when you remember that they consider our use of herbs quaint and our mind-linking skills taboo, is little.”