A grave and ominous undercurrent crept into Coralis’s voice. “Exactly that. He saw the bad moon on the rise. He used an odd phrase—called it the mother of all bad moons. He told me he foresaw Dai She, that malignant son of Malachai, causing massive destruction by channeling the power of the bad moon. Had I believed him and given him adequate training in reading the visions sent by the wand, we would not be barreling blindly ahead. And I wouldn’t be forced to jeopardize—well.” Coralis broke off, as if the thought was too terrible to voice, and he looked guiltily to Brianna, who continued to doze.

Henry didn’t know how to react to this. To finally meet the man he revered, only to find he was as flawed as any human could be—and to know that Coralis’s flaws had put him and his sister in danger—left him confused and somewhat … angry? “Didn’t he tell you anything useful?” he snapped. “You know, like how Dai She plans to do it? Or what kind of destruction? Or how we can stop it?”

Coralis scowled. Henry immediately knew he had reacted poorly and braced for the Wand Master’s reply, yet Coralis surprised him.

“Fair enough,” Coralis said with a growl. “I made a few mistakes and am paying the price for them. But, for your sake, I will not make them again. And with that in mind, let us resume your training, beginning with some filing in that astrology drawer.”

Coralis slipped back into the voice with musical tones that mesmerized Henry, who listened with rapt attention. But in the back of his mind, he realized Coralis never answered his questions. And he wondered: Did that mean Coralis didn’t know the answers?

Or was he afraid to share them?

Some time later, they retired to the dining car, where a meal of surprisingly good lasagna awaited them. Afterward they ventured to the observation car, where Henry and Brianna were treated to a panoramic view of the countryside. Minutes later, the train rumbled over a long bridge that crossed the mighty Mississippi River. Barges carrying coal downstream mixed with sailboats dotted with their ant-sized occupants. As they sped past Fort Madison, Iowa, the terrain changed from flat fields to rolling hills.

Inside the car, an Amish family of six sat together in silence while a troop of Boy Scouts raucously played cards. In one corner, a woman sat alone, taking pictures and sketching in a pad. Opposite her, a man in his early twenties with his cap on backward listened to his iPod while playing solitaire with a deck of cards.

It was hard for Henry to believe that so many people went about their daily lives never suspecting the evil that was about to erupt. But then, up until very recently, he had been one of them. His carefree life had been interrupted by events beyond his control.