“But you were brought here to find her. Why would they do that if they are trying to hide where she is?”

“I think we were brought here to find Pen and found Grianne by accident. Did you see Shadea’s face when I explained what I was doing when the magic threw me back from the scrye waters? She was elated! I think it confirmed something she already knew about Grianne. It’s Pen she’s looking for, but she had to tell me to look for my sister, too, because it would have seemed odd not to.”

Bek felt her shake her head slowly against his own. “I still don’t understand what Penderrin has to do with all this. I still don’t see why he’s up in the Charnal Mountains, miles from everything.”

He didn’t make an immediate response. He didn’t have the answers to those questions. His instincts told him that Pen was running away, that he had fled Patch Run to avoid capture, perhaps from these Druids, perhaps from someone else. What troubled him was that Pen would have come looking for them if he had been able to do so. He wouldn’t have run off blindly, and he certainly wouldn’t have gone into the Charnals without a very good reason.

He stared off into the growing dark. Pen was levelheaded and capable, but that didn’t stop Bek from being frightened for his son. Pen was just a boy, and he lacked the life experience necessary to deal with this sort of danger. If he was being chased, there was always the possibility that he would panic.

“Bek, I just thought of something,” Rue whispered. She moved so that they could see each other, her face so close to his that they were almost touching. “If Shadea knows the wishsong’s magic exposed Grianne, she will expect it to expose Penderrin as well. You won’t be able to pretend otherwise for long.”

He nodded. “I thought of that.”

“We can’t allow that to happen. How are we going to prevent it?”

He leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth. “While they’re sleeping, we’re going to use the scrye waters and find him ourselves.”

NINE

Night had fallen across the Four Lands, and Arishaig was bright with the light of torches and candles when Sen Dunsidan made his way back from dinner to his sleeping chambers. The day had been productive. An address before the Coalition Council had produced a standing ovation following his carefully worded promise that he had found a way to resolve the war on the Prekkendorran quickly and favorably. Even those who would have liked to see his role in the Federation government diminished congratulated him afterwards for his courage and commitment. They were counting on him to fail, of course, but he was confident that he wouldn’t.

This was due in part to an earlier visit to Etan Orek, who had completed all work on the first of what he was now calling his ”fire launchers.” He had mounted it on a swivel that allowed it to swing left and right at a ninety-degree firing angle and was equipped with a sighting system and recoil springs to keep it from disrupting the flight of an airship, once it was in place and operating. It was also equipped with controls to manipulate the amount of energy fed through the crystals and released from the mouth of the firing tube.