Sweat trickled down his temple, over his cheekbones, past the corners of his mouth. The morning was cool, but he was feverishly hot. He felt as if he was galloping into the throat of a dragon—the smell of sulfur that led straight to hell.

Johnis passed hundreds of houses, and each remained dark after he passed. As he thought, a warring people were accustomed to these kinds of disruptions.

The temple loomed ahead. “My house is the red mortar house on the right,” Karas had said. Johnis slowed his horse to a walk as he approached the house he assumed was hers.

Moving now with stealth, he guided the animal around to the stable he’d seen. His horse shook its head with protest, so he knew there were Horde horses inside. A good thing.

He stripped the saddle, the bridle, and the water bag from his own horse and dumped the saddle and bridle in a barrel by the stable. Without the telltale Guard saddle, which was designed to be light for quick movement, the horse looked similar to any Horde horse.

Pushing the animal into the empty corral, he angled for the Dark Priest’s house, water bag over his shoulder.

“Speed and boldness,” he whispered to himself. “The light is coming.”

He found the first window open, pushed in the twine-hinged window doors, and worked his way inside, knife in hand. He’d never been in a Horde home before, but it looked like he imagined it would, having been in the temple. It was made mostly from mortar with straw thatchwork covering the walls. Other than every conceivable use of desert wheat, the Horde relied on leather and stone or mortar for all of their construction, giving a very plain look to everything.

A half dozen large sacks of grain were piled in one corner of the small room. Barrels of wheat wine lined one wall. He had found his way into a pantry, it seemed.

The exit was covered by canvas—no swinging doors. Johnis slipped his head past the hanging drape, saw the hallway beyond was empty, and slipped into the heart of the Dark Priest’s house.

Karas was his goal. Just let him find Karas quickly, and then he stood a chance.

His one saving grace was the fact that the Dark Priest snored. That sound was coming either from the Dark Priest or from Karas, and he doubted such a little girl could produce a sound so disturbing. There were four sets of drapes leading from the hall. If he wasn’t mistaken, the snoring came from the room on the far right.

He crept down the hall and checked the room opposite, saw that it was a large living area with brass hangings on the walls and large cushions on the floor, a table with eight chairs.