Allegra felt the first chill of a change in the atmosphere and held Geneva closer.

“That’s fitting,” she said. “I’d say I stand a much better chance of being struck by lightning.”

FIVE

The skeletal remains of architecture, now archaic, stood as silent sentinels on the outermost fringe of Front Tier. Warman Kohl, the chancellor and The Which marched purposefully down the desolate valley between the jagged towers, robes billowing in the mournful wind, dust dancing in tiny tornadoes that appeared like apparitions and vanished just as quickly. Kohl quickly surmised that the buildings were pre-Schism. Unlike the ziggurats that characterized modern Manolithic tiers, these structures were tall and square with many floors, and Kohl could easily picture the bustling district this once was.

The three birduns belonging to the trio stood at the edge of the devastation but came no further. It was not because some sixth sense compelled them to avoid the ruins, it was simply because it was the border where the meager grass ceased to grow. Only Kohl’s trusted birdun, Cap, kept a watchful eye on his master.

Kohl had raised him from a birdling. The immeasurable time spent in instruction and intimacy insured that the pair would move and almost think as a single being; every shift of his body weight, every nudge of his knees sure to bring instantaneous response. So strong was their bond that Kohl had risked the derision of his mates and had given in to the childish practice of naming his birdun. He called him Cap, not only for the discolored tuft of white fur atop his brow, but also because he thought it might defuse some of the mockery from his military friends if he claimed it was short for “Captain.”

The Which’s eyes narrowed resentfully as the last building in the row of decrepit structures loomed ever larger before them. Kohl didn’t understand why. He wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to be looking for.

He had been expecting a literal tree and now peered up at the towering building in understandable confusion. But then all was made as clear as the letters on the façade: DEPART FOR TREE. The phrase was clearly legible although the words and some of the letters were oddly spaced.

It used to say something else, Kohl realized. As if reading his mind, which would not have surprised Kohl given her calling, The Which turned and educated him.

“The Tree has stood here since before the time of the Great Schism,” she said. “It holds the secrets of our history and the key to our future. Warman Kohl, it is up to you to harness the Dogs and retrieve the Tinderbox.”

Kohl straightened up as if at military attention. “Femera and Amali have chosen the right champion this time.”

Olaf and The Which remained impassive, and Warman Kohl realized that his victory had earned him no rank with these two. In fact, they had said nothing more than “this way” or “follow me” to him since leaving the stadium.