The girl’s terrified eyes stared at him as she made distressed sounds, muffled by the gag. She stank of fear and sweat. She also stank of magic.

Adolfo turned away from the cart. He studied the boy, now watching him anxiously. “You were right, boy. You did succeed. Well done.”

The boy sagged in relief, then recovered swiftly enough to ask, “Then I’ll become an apprentice? I’ll become an Inquisitor?”

That combination of brashness and hopeful fear. Ubel had been like that when he’d found him years ago. Yes, perhaps he would keep his promise to this boy and mold him into a useful tool. Take him back to Wolfram to shape him and train him, then send him back here to be a hammer against his own people.

“You have much to learn before you can become a warrior against the Evil One and its servants,” Adolfo said. “As for your apprenticeship…You can begin by looking after the creatures you brought me. Take good care of them.”

He hurried back to his carriage, the guard captain beside him. “We must act swiftly now. Send messengers back to the main army. Have them come up with all possible speed. Question the boy. See if he noticed any land near Willowsbrook that would serve us well in a fight. And assign some of your best archers to join the outriders. As we get closer to the enemy, they may use the Fae to try to spy on us. Kill any bird that flies near, any beast that stops to watch men pass instead of fleeing, any hawk soaring overhead.”

The guard captain nodded. “I have some archers who can shoot the eye out of a soaring hawk.”

Adolfo paused at the carriage door. “That’s exactly what needs to be done.” He swung into the carriage. “You have your orders.”

“As you will, Master Adolfo.” The guard captain saluted, then moved off to give his orders.

As I will, Adolfo thought as he settled himself in the carriage and closed his eyes. He smiled. Yes. As I will.

Chapter 45

waning moon

Morag knelt in front of the open window, her chin resting on her crossed arms. Quiet conversations drifted up to her from the inn’s garden courtyard where men and women were enjoying a still summer night. The voices were nothing more than sounds, as soothing as air flirting with leaves or water murmuring over stone. Just another part of the Mother, those voices. Not surprising, since she was in the part of Sylvalan ruled by the House of Gaian. She was in the Mother’s Hills.

Odd how she’d never thought to describe Tir Alainn to Ari and Neall but found herself trying to remember everything she could about these hills. When she returned home, she wanted to tell them about the horses, the people, the land…and the shadow hounds.