Kirisin looked at him. “What would you do if you couldn’t make your magic work?”

That produced a tight smile. “Die, probably. It’s what keeps me alive. Same with you, I gather. So Simralin says.” He paused. “I was just wondering if using magic feels the same to you as it does to me. Call it professional curiosity. I think it must. I think magic works the same, no matter if it’s a human or an Elf using it.”

“I suppose.”

Kirisin leaned back in his seat. He was wondering how much Sim had told Logan Tom about what had happened to them on Syrring Rise. A lot, it seemed. For some reason, that made him uncomfortable. Why would she tell him so much? She barely knew him.

He was aware suddenly that the other was looking at him. He shrugged. “Using the magic makes me feel like something is coming alive inside me, something that generates heat and light, but something else, too. It’s hard to explain. It consumed me when it surfaced. It filled me up.” He shook his head at the memory, then added softly. “It took me over.”

The Knight of the Word nodded. “It’s the same with me. Tell me some more.”

To his surprise, Kirisin did, happy all at once to be talking about it, to be sharing what he knew. Logan Tom already knew so much that telling him this probably didn’t matter. Besides, he hadn’t talked about it with anyone else who understood magic, and while he would not have believed earlier that he would ever talk about it so freely, he found it easy to do so. That they shared a common experience and responsibility where magic was concerned certainly helped. Angel had never wanted to talk about herself, only about him. For all his brooding and intensity, Logan Tom seemed less constrained. They were in the middle of exchanging thoughts on the matter when the Ventra’s engine suddenly died and the AV slowed to a stop.

“What’s happened?” Praxia wanted to know at once, leaning forward from the backseat. Logan shook his head, released his seat belt, and climbed out of the cab. He moved to the front of the AV, opened a metal covering, and leaned in for a look at the engine. Kirisin got out, as well, and walked around to stand next to him. Logan was peering at a cluster of tiny dials protected by thick pieces of round glass recessed into narrow metal cylinders.

“The connectors have failed,” he said quietly. “The solar cells are dead. There’s no power.” He walked to the rear of the vehicle, with Kirisin following, and opened a storage compartment where several more of the cylinders were resting in slots obviously constructed to hold them. “These, too. All dead.”