But as the servant drew near with the lantern, it seemed to Iome that Raj Ahten’s resolve flickered like the tongues of the fire. “I swear, to protect mankind from the reavers—for their own good,” Raj Ahten said. “I . . . do only what I know I must—”

“You do nothing of the sort!” Binnesman shouted. “Listen to you: You’ve taken so many endowments of Voice that when you talk, you convince yourself of your own mad arguments. You are deluded!”

Iome’s heart pounded, for she suddenly realized that Binnesman was right. Raj Ahten was swayed by the sound of his own mad Voice. It had never occurred to her that such a thing might happen.

Binnesman shouted, “Yet—there is time to change your mind—barely! Divest yourself of these mad notions. Don’t dare rob these people and call yourself good!”

He turned and ambled from the room, looking every bit the bent old man. Yet he walked without fear, as if, Iome thought, he had conducted the interview, as if he had dragged Raj Ahten to this room in chains.

Then he was gone.

Iome watched in astonishment, for no one else that night had merely chosen to leave Raj Ahten’s presence. Iome feared that Raj Ahten might try to imprison the old man, or drag him back and bully him into service.

But the Wolf Lord remained thoughtful, watched the dark corridor through which Binnesman had exited.

Moments later, as the flameweavers began to regain consciousness, a guard hurried to the King’s chamber to announce that the herbalist had just been spotted outside the city gates, hobbling across the fields to the Dunnwood. “Our bowmen on the wall could have shot him,” the guard said, “but we did not know your will in this matter. The nomen are camped in the fields, but none detained him. Shall I send scouts to fetch him back?”

Raj Ahten frowned. It seemed far too short a time for a man to have left these halls and escaped the castle. And it was equally as bizarre that none of Raj Ahten’s highly trained soldiers had stopped the old man.

“Did he reach the edge of the forest?” Raj Ahten asked.

“Aye, milord.”

“What is he planning?” Raj Ahten wondered aloud. He stood swiftly, pondering. Then added, “Send a party of hunters to find him—if they can.”

But Iome knew it was too late. Binnesman had gained the woods, the Dunnwood, the ancient forest, a focus for the earth powers. Even Raj Ahten’s most accomplished hunters could not track an Earth Warden through the Dunnwood.

15

POETICS

Once the trackers left, Gaborn made his way alongside the mill, carrying Rowan. For a young man with three endowments of brawn, she did not pose much of a burden, and Gaborn realized that carrying her now offered an added benefit: she would not leave her scent on the ground.