He turned back toward the door and went out again into the hallway. But instead of going to his sister, he began searching instead for Avelene.

He found her a short time later in a quiet corner of the garden, sitting on a bench with her feet up, bent over an open book with several more sitting on the ground next to her. She looked up at his approach, and he was reminded again of how supportive she had been of him on his arrival five years earlier.

“So we’re off on an adventure together,” she said, arching an eyebrow at him. She set down the book. “Do you think we’re up to it?”

He grinned. “I think you are. I hear you might be the best in all Paranor when it comes to magic.”

“I hear you might be the best swordsman in the Four Lands. If Oost Mondara can be believed.”

Paxon stared. “Oost really said that? Was he sober?”

“Apparently you impressed him considerably with your work ethic. Impressed me, too, I might add. I’ve had my eye on you, even if you didn’t see me. You work hard. You’ve dedicated yourself to becoming the Ard Rhys’s Blade. No one gave you anything. You worked for all of it.”

“You, too. Can I sit?”

She moved her legs to give him room, drawing them up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “Seems like a long time ago that we first met,” she said. “You were kind of uncertain back then. I don’t see any of that now.”

“Oh, I’m still pretty uncertain about most things. I’ve gotten comfortable with using a sword, but you can’t cut your way through uncertainty. I still struggle with the moral issues surrounding the uses of magic.”

“Well, mostly, it’s not your concern, is it? It’s a Druid issue.”

“That might be, but I’m acting as their representative. I like to be sure about what it is I’m representing.”

She laughed. “That’s fair. But remember, we all struggle with what’s right and wrong, Paxon. That’s the nature of our lives. We have to figure out what we can live with, and hope that what we do to bring it about doesn’t exact a cost that’s too high. We have to decide where to draw the line. Are you thinking of Sebec?”

He shook his head. “Not so much. I was thinking more of Chrysallin. I haven’t figured out if she’s where she belongs, being here. I don’t know if studying to join the Druid Order is what’s right for her.”

He was hedging with his response. His real concern was not his sister’s presence at Paranor but his reluctance to be honest with her about why she was there. But he couldn’t tell Avelene that.

“She’s fine here. She’s got you to watch out for her. She’s got people who care about her. Lots of them, in case you hadn’t noticed. She’s made friends, Paxon. She belongs as much as you do.”

She brushed at her dark hair and studied him. “But that’s not what you’re talking about, is it?”

Too perceptive by far, he thought. “Can I ask you about your readings of the scrye waters? Isaturin said you were on duty with this latest disturbance, but you were on duty, too, when Arcannen was trying to take over the order. Isaturin said you believed the magic used might be the same?”

“I said the properties evidenced by each were similar.”

“Can you explain that to me?”

“Magic of different types causes different sorts of disturbances to the scrye waters. Not in the strength of the disturbance, which is really a result of the power expended, but in the look of the ripples and shimmers. Rapidity, length, closeness, even color—these all say something about the magic. We keep records on this, as you know, and over time we have been able to determine after the fact where the similarities lie.”

“So the records told you something about these two?”

“No. In this case, we don’t seem to have any records. We never found out the exact nature of the magic that erupted five years ago, and it’s up to you and me to try to determine it in this latest instance. What I do know, since I was on duty both times and had a chance to observe personally, was that they were almost exactly the same. That’s not a coincidence.”

“But shouldn’t there be something in the records?”

“We only started keeping those records since Aphenglow Elessedil decided to track down and recover the magic that was being used by those not of the Druid Order. So we have barely more than a hundred and fifty years of records to date. This magic, whatever it is, might have been around awhile. It might have been used countless times over the centuries. We just don’t have anything that would tell us that.”

Which would explain why no one in the Druid Order but Aphenglow and now Isaturin knew it was the wishsong. Both must have decided it was better to keep it quiet.

Then he wondered suddenly how much Avelene knew. Could Isaturin have decided not to tell her about the wishsong? Had he kept that to himself? Or if she knew about it, why was she hiding it from him? Was it because he wasn’t a Druid?

“I have to go,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you how much I’m looking forward to going with you. I wish it could have happened sooner.”

She gave him a look. “You do?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

She studied him a moment. “See you bright and early then.” She picked up her book and went back to reading. “You do have something of a silver tongue, don’t you? You just make my little heart beat with excitement.”

She was angry. Or, at the very least, irritated. He started to say something in response, but gave it up. Whatever retort he made, she would have another poised on the tip of her tongue.

“I meant what I said,” he threw back anyway.

She didn’t look up—just gave him a dismissive wave of her hand.

He was a dozen steps removed when something occurred to him. An Ard Rhys would never dispatch members of the Druid Order on a mission like the one they were embarking on without telling them exactly what they were up against. Not if he knew, and Isaturin did. It would be putting Druids at risk unnecessarily. And there was no good reason for him to so here.

He slowed, and then turned around. Avelene was still reading her book. Slowly, he walked back over to her and waited until she looked up at him.

“Forget something?” she asked.

“Common sense,” he answered. “The magic we’re looking for is the wishsong.”

Her smile was brilliant. “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You already knew?”

“Of course.”

“And you didn’t think you should tell me that?”

“Well, you’ve apparently known for some time, right? Shouldn’t you have been the one to tell me?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled. “That was what I just decided. If we’re traveling together to find what might be a wild magic, we need to trust each other.”

She nodded. “And now we do. I do, at least.”

“I do, too.”

“Then all is right with the world.” She resumed reading. “See you in the morning, Paxon.”

This time she sounded happy about it.

EIGHT

ARCANNEN FLEW WEST THROUGH THE REMAINDER OF THE DAY, losing himself in the piloting of his Sprint, enjoying the passing countryside below and the sweet smells of the summer day. He did not spend time thinking about what lay ahead; he had done enough of that already. Instead, he gave himself over to clearing his mind and letting his thoughts drift wherever they cared to go. Rest came with difficulty these days; the long comforting sleep of his time in Wayford had devolved into catnaps and guarded dozing. Being hunted did that to you. Being prey instead of predator required you always have one eye open.

Unbidden, his thoughts jumped to Leofur. He wondered how his daughter was, how her life was going. He had not had contact with her in five years—not since Paxon Leah had given him his freedom in exchange for the medication that would cure his sister of her hallucinations and nightmares and give her back her life. Leofur had no idea where he was, of course. Like the rest of the world, she had been left behind. Not that they had been close before; not that leaving her caused him any particular pain. It certainly couldn’t have mattered to her when he disappeared; she had been trying to kill him. Or at least trying to help the Highlander do the job. She had forsaken him a long time ago.