The Sorcerer's Plague

REAPING MOON WANING

Jynna sat with Etan atop the tallest of the low grassy hills that overlooked the plain and lakelands, gazing back eastward to where the ruins of Tivston still darkened the landscape. There was no smoke anymore, and the great flocks of crows and kites had moved on, leaving the bones of her family and friends and neighbors to dry and whiten in the harsh sunlight. Birds still circled over what remained of her home, but only a few, the sad unfortunates who had arrived too late for the feast.

Etan hadn't said much since that first day when T'Noth, T'Kaar, and S'Doryn found him with the others. None of the children had. Even Jynna spoke only occasionally, though she had been the first to meet the Fal'Borna, and had come to trust all three of the men who were caring for them now, even T'Kaar. She simply had little to say. Her thoughts were consumed with memories of her family, grief at the loss of all she had known and loved. When the men asked questions of her, she answered. When they asked her to speak on their behalf to the other children, she did as they requested. The rest of the time she kept to herself, or sat with Etan, saying nothing, but taking comfort from the mere fact that he was there, feeling the same things she was.

Vettala sat a short distance from them, also saying nothing, also looking to the east. She was three years younger than Jynna and Etan, and like them, she had come through that horrible night of disease and wanton magic without injury. She was a pretty girl, fine-featured with long silvery hair and deep golden eyes. Jynna remembered her having a nice smile and a loud bubbling laugh, but she had to trust all to her recollections, for Vettala hadn't made a sound in these eight days. She avoided all of them. Aside from those times when the children were forced to ride, sharing mounts with the Fal'Borna men, she didn't allow anyone to come near her. She ran away from the wounded children-Hey, the older boy who lost his hand to his father's shaping magic; Pelda and Sebbi, sisters burned on their faces and hands and chests by the fire that consumed their home. She refused even to look at the Fal'Borna.

But it seemed that she drew some comfort from having Jynna and Etan nearby. She followed them everywhere, keeping her distance, but also keeping them in sight. Under any other circumstance Jynna would have been annoyed by this; probably she would have tried to run away from the girl. In an odd way, though, she understood. Etan did, too. They made no effort to include her in their conversations or tell her where they were headed each time she started to follow them. But they let her follow, and they kept an eye on her, making certain that she came to no harm.

Jynna wasn't certain what the girl would do once they returned to Lowna and she found herself surrounded by the Fal'Borna. She wasn't even sure that Vettala understood that they would be headed to the city before this day was out. S'Doryn had tried to explain this much to all of them over the past several days, as they awaited the end of their isolation. Vettala, however, had given no indication that she cared or even understood.

Jynna was ashamed to admit it, but she had avoided the injured children as well. She didn't run from them, and when forced to be near them, she tried to be as kind as she could be. But she never chose to be with them. The truth was she felt sorry for them and guilty for having escaped injury. Had her father not sent her away, she might well have been burned or killed herself. None of the other children said anything of the sort to her, but they didn't have to. She knew it was true. So she kept her distance. She avoided T'Kaar as well. Though she trusted that he meant her no harm, she hadn't liked him from the beginning. While others in Lowna had been willing to believe her tale and accept her as one of their own when it became clear that she had lost her family, he continued to doubt her. She liked his younger brother, T'Noth, and S'Doryn, though she even tried to keep away from them at times. Both of them asked her questions constantly. Do you recall seeing anyone unusual in the market that day? Is there more you can tell us about the sickness that took your parents? What else do you remember?

I remember everything! she wanted to scream at them. I remember it all, and I just want to forget!

That was why she stayed with Etan. He didn't ask her anything. He didn't bear any scars from that night, at least none that she could see. He was just like her: sad and scared and desperate to think about anything other than their last day in Tivston.

If only they would let her.

"Here he comes again," Etan said softly, nodding toward the bottom of the hill.

S'Doryn was trudging up the slope, the morning sun at his back so that his shadow reached up the hill, darkening the golden grasses. She'd spotted him several moments before, and she merely nodded.

"He'll ask you more questions," Etan told her.

Jynna nodded at this as well.

"They have to let us live with them, right?" he said. "Even if we can't tell them anything?"

"They don't have to, but they will."

She was mostly certain of this. S'Doryn and T'Noth were too nice to leave them out here alone after all they'd been through. But she wasn't totally sure, which was why she tried to answer the questions as well as she could. Her father and brothers had spoken of the Fal'Borna; of how fierce they were in battle, and of how wary they remained of outsiders. She saw how T'Kaar looked at her still, and she knew this last was true. She remembered U'Selle, the a'laq from Lowna, and she wondered if the woman would welcome the Y'Qatt back to the village if Jynna didn't tell these men what they needed to know. U'Selle had seemed fair-minded, but as a'laq she could do nothing that might endanger her people. What if that included letting Jynna and the others stay with them?

"Try to remember, Jynna," Etan whispered as S'Doryn drew nearer. "It'll be better if you remember."

"I am trying," she shot back in a low voice.

They didn't have time for more.

"We've been looking for you," the Fal'Borna said, as he reached the top of the hill. He was slightly out of breath, and tiny beads of sweat covered his brow. His bright yellow eyes flicked toward Vettala. "For all three of you, actually. We'll be leaving soon, returning to Lowna."

"So you are taking us with you," Etan said.

S'Doryn frowned, though there was a bit of a smile on his lips. "Of course we are. You thought we'd leave you here?"

Etan shrugged and wouldn't look at him again. After several moments, the Fal'Borna glanced at Jynna, a question in his eyes.

"I haven't been able to answer your questions," she said. "We were afraid you were angry with us."

He shook his head and smiled, the kind smile she remembered from the first morning she met him. An instant later, though, his brow creased again. "No," he said. "We're not angry. If we thought you were keeping things from us on purpose, then maybe we'd be angry. But I don't think you're doing that."

"We're not."

"Tell me about the woman again," he said. "The Mettai." They'd been through this before. Then again, they'd been through everything at least two or three times, and the old woman was the only odd thing that Jynna could recall from that last day in Tivston.

"What do you want to know?" Jynna asked, her voice flat. "When you found her, she was doing magic. Isn't that right?"

"Yes. She was in a thicket of trees, with her baskets spread out around her."

"And do you know what she was doing to them?"

"I've told you. I know, but I can't say. I promised her."

"Jynna, there's a good chance that this woman is dead by now, killed by the same pestilence that took your family."

"What if she's not?"

"What if she's responsible for what happened to your village?" S'Doryn answered.

"She isn't."

"What if she lied to you, Jynna? What if none of what she told you about the magic she was doing was true?"

Jynna shook her head and opened her mouth to deny it, but then she stopped herself. Maybe S'Doryn was right. How much did she really know about the woman? Hadn't she been afraid of her at first? Hadn't she tried to run away?

"She was coloring her baskets," she finally said, her voice low. "Coloring them?"

"Mettai baskets are supposed to be made by hand and dyed by hand, too. They're less valuable if they're colored by magic. But she had some new ones that she needed to color, and she hadn't brought her dyes with her."

"And that's what she was doing when you found her."

She nodded. "She made me swear that I wouldn't tell. And when I promised, she gave me another basket."

S'Doryn nodded slowly, but he was frowning still, as if deep in thought. "So she only had out a few of her baskets."

Jynna stared at him. "What?"

"Well, you make it sound as though she only needed to color a small number of baskets. The new ones, right? So if that's the case, she would have had out only those that needed coloring."

Jynna shook her head slowly. "She had all of them out." Her stomach felt queasy and her mouth had gone dry.

"You're certain?"

She nodded, feeling more ill by the moment. Had the woman lied to her? If she wasn't coloring the baskets, what was she really doing to them? "I helped her pack them up and carry them to the marketplace. She had all of them out, spread in a half circle."

"And you're certain she was really using magic on them."

"She'd cut herself. That's how they do it, right? They use their blood?" "Yes."

"She was doing magic, then." A tear rolled down her cheek and then another.

“Jynna-"

"It's my fault," she sobbed. "I should have run and found my father as soon as I saw her. That's what I started to do, but she called me back and I listened to her."

"We don't know anything for certain, not yet."

"But she lied to me!"

S'Doryn hesitated. "She may have, yes."

"She must have been doing something to those baskets. Why else would she lie? She put a curse on them or something. She made everyone sick."

"Not you," he said. "You say you handled the baskets?"

Jynna nodded, took a long breath, nodded again. Perhaps it wasn't her fault after all. "Yes, I helped her pack them, and she gave me two. One I gave to my teacher, the other I took home to my mother."

S'Doryn opened his hands and smiled. "Well, then it probably wasn't the baskets, right?"

"Right." She actually managed a smile, though it faded quickly. "But then why would she lie to me?"

"Most likely she colored all her baskets with magic, and didn't want you to know. You're right: They are more valuable when they're dyed by hand. She probably was afraid they'd fetch a lower price in the marketplace if you knew the truth."

Jynna nodded, feeling better. "Probably."

The smile remained on S'Doryn's face, although it began to seem forced. Jynna could tell that he had more questions for her, but after a few moments, he merely turned and started back down the hill.

"We'll be leaving soon," he said. "You should come down and make sure that you have all your things packed and ready to go. I want to be back in Lowna well before nightfall."

"All right," Jynna said. "We'll be down in a moment."

He nodded and continued down the slope.

She looked at Etan, only to find that he was watching her, a guarded look in his pale eyes.

"What?" she said.

"Do you really think it was your fault?"

"No. You heard S'Doryn. If it was the baskets I would have gotten sick."

"Maybe it wasn't the baskets. Maybe she did something else. My f-" He looked away. "People say that the Mettai are evil. That's why they do blood magic."

"It wasn't her!" Jynna said. But she had her doubts. The Mettai witch had been odd; Jynna had continued to think so even after the woman gave her the baskets and the beautiful flowers.

"It might have been."

"No! It wasn't!"

"Don't fight!"

They both looked behind them at the same time. Vettala was standing a short distance off, her fists clenched, her face looking pale in the sunlight.

Etan and Jynna exchanged glances.

"It's all right, Vettala," Jynna said.

"No, it's not! You can't fight!"

"Why not?" Etan asked.

"You'll make them mad, and they'll send us away, maybe back to the village. They won't take care of us and we'll be all alone again."

"No, they-"

Jynna laid a hand on Etan's arm to stop him.

"It's all right," she said. "We won't fight."

"Promise?"

She nodded. "Promise."

The little girl eyed them both a moment longer. Then she nodded once and started down the hill, following S'Doryn's footsteps. "Come on then," she said, without looking back. "We shouldn't keep them waiting, either."

S'Doryn was still pondering what he'd learned from the girl when he found T'Noth and T'Kaar.

"You look like you've lost something," T'Kaar said, as S'Doryn drew near to where they were sitting.

T'Noth laughed. "That happens as you get old. You'll have to be careful, brother," he added, with a sly look at T'Kaar. "It won't be long before you're misplacing things as well."

"What's wrong?" the older brother asked, ignoring the gibe. S'Doryn shook his head. "I'm not certain. It's probably nothing." "Probably," T'Kaar repeated.

"The girl told me a bit more about that old Mettai woman she saw in Tivston the day the pestilence struck."

T'Noth's expression sobered. "What about her?"

"Apparently she was using magic on all of her baskets."

"Didn't we know that already?"

"Yes."

The younger man raised an eyebrow.

"As I say, it's probably nothing. She told Jynna that she was using her magic to color just a few of the baskets. But she had all of them spread out around her."

"So she was coloring all of them. You've done enough trading in your day, S'Doryn. You know how much more a Mettai can get for baskets that are colored by hand."

"That's what Jynna and I decided."

The brothers shared a look.

"So, then there's more?" T'Noth asked.

"No. That's it. I know it makes no sense, but something about that woman bothers me. I can't help thinking that she did something else to those people, aside from whatever it was that she did to those baskets."

"But if Jynna-"

"I know. She spent more time with the woman than anyone. She should have gotten sick, too. But then again, all our survivors are children. Maybe whatever the woman did had no effect on Jynna because she was too young."

The two brothers appeared to consider this for several moments.

Finally, T'Kaar stood. "I'm going to check on the others," he said, walking away. "I'll make certain they're ready for the ride back."

S'Doryn nodded and watched him walk away. T'Kaar could be difficult at times, but he was a good man. He'd spent hours with the wounded children, healing their injuries and comforting them in their grief. S'Doryn had been reluctant to let the man accompany them on this journey, but he was glad now that T'Kaar had come along.

"Why would she do it?"

He looked over at T'Noth. "What?"

"Assuming for a moment that the Mettai woman was somehow responsible for what happened, why would she have done it? Do the Mettai hate Qirsi that much? Do they hate the Y'Qatt?"

"Truly, my friend, I don't know. I've never heard of any feud between Qirsi and Mettai. More to the point, I don't know how she might have done it. I know little about blood magic and Mettai spells."

"S'Doryn!"

He turned. T'Kaar was already walking back in their direction, his strides long and purposeful.

"What is it?"

"All three children recall seeing baskets in their homes the day their families fell ill. And two of them remember seeing at least one of their parents speaking with the woman in the marketplace."

S'Doryn felt himself grow cold. "Demons and fire."

"It could mean nothing," T'Noth said, though judging from the young man's expression, it seemed he didn't believe this any more than S'Doryn did.

"What do we do?" T'Kaar asked.

S'Doryn started toward the horses. "We ride home, speak to U'Selle and the clan council of what we've learned."

The brothers said nothing, but when S'Doryn glanced back, T'Noth was just behind him, and T'Kaar was on his way to the injured children. S'Doryn called for Jynna, Etan, and Vettala, and in less than an hour, everything was packed and tied to the horses, and all of them were ready to go.

The ride back to Lowna took less than half a day, and upon reaching the village, S'Doryn and the two brothers carried the wounded children to the healers for further care. N'Tevva was there to greet them, as was T'Kaar's wife and child. S'Doryn would have liked to take N'Tevva home and to bed-eight days was too long to be away from her. But it was a measure of how concerned he was about this Mettai witch wandering the land that he merely kissed her and asked her to follow as he led Jynna, Etan, and their little shadow to the a'laq's home. U'Selle was waiting for them in an old weathered chair outside her house. She was taken by a fit of coughing as they approached, and for some time after they stopped before her, she was unable to speak. Eventually, though, the paroxysm ran its course, and the a'laq managed a wan smile.

"You survived, I see."

S'Doryn grinned. "Yes, A'Laq."

"That's nearly more than I can say for myself." She turned to Jynna. "It seems you're one of us now."

The girl bowed. "Yes, A'Laq."

"You're welcome here, but I am sorry. I had hoped that you might find that your family had survived." She eyed the other two children before meeting S'Doryn's gaze again. "You did find survivors."

"Not many-not nearly enough-and all were children."

She pressed her lips thin for just a moment, but then made herself smile again. "And fine children they appear to be. What's your name, boy?" "Etan, A'Laq."

"Welcome, Etan. Are you prepared to become one of us, to be a Fal'Borna warrior when you grow to manhood?"

The boy dropped his gaze. "I think so."

"Etan!" Jynna said.

But U'Selle smiled. "It's all right, Jynna. That's a good enough answer for now." She looked at Vettala, who shrank away from her gaze, hiding behind Jynna. "What's your name, girl?"

The little one said nothing.

"She's Vettala," Jynna said at last.

U'Selle raised an eyebrow. "She can't answer for herself?"

"She hasn't spoken since… since the outbreak," S'Doryn said quietly. "She said something today," Etan said.

Everyone looked at him.

The boy's cheeks shaded to crimson. "It's true! She told Jynna and me not to fight."

The a'laq appeared to stifle a grin. "Sage counsel from one so young. Very well, Jynna. You may speak on Vettala's behalf until she's ready to speak for herself."

"Thank you, A'Laq."

U'Selle looked at S'Doryn again. "We didn't know that you'd bring others back, so we haven't made any arrangements for them yet. You can take Jynna?"

He looked at N'Tevva.

"Of course we can," she said, smiling. "Gladly."

They'd never had children of their own, and S'Doryn had given up hoping for them long ago. He knew that N'Tevva had as well. But the gods worked in strange and wondrous ways. It seemed they were to be parents after all.

He placed a hand on Jynna's shoulder. "Is that all right with you?" he asked her.

She nodded, though there were tears in her eyes. He could only imagine how hard this must be for her, for all the children.

"I believe that Etan might be happy with T'Noth," he said after a moment, "at least for the time being."

The a'laq smiled. "Is that all right with you, Etan?"

"Yes, A'Laq."

"Good. And perhaps Vettala can stay with me." The woman smiled kindly, but Vettala gave a small cry and buried her face into Jynna's dress. U'Selle's smile gave way to a grimace and she looked at S'Doryn once more. "Perhaps it would be best if you took them both for now," she said. "We can see how matters stand after a few days."

"Of course, A'Laq."

"She doesn't mean anything by it, A'Laq," Jynna said, concern on her pale features. "She's just scared still."

"It's all right, Jynna. I understand. And I think she's very fortunate to have such a good friend."

"With your permission, A'Laq," S'Doryn said, "we've ridden a long way. I'm sure the children are even hungrier than I am."

"Of course, S'Doryn. We'll speak again later."

S'Doryn bowed to her, and he and N'Tevva led the children away from the a'laq's cottage. They walked Etan to T'Noth's house before continuing on to their own. Along the way, S'Doryn wondered how they were going to fit them both. They hadn't a lot of space and while finding a bed for Jynna wasn't a problem, he didn't know where they'd put Vettala. In the end, however, it seemed less of a problem than he had feared it might be. Vettala never strayed from Jynna's side, and when Jynna asked the younger child if she wanted to share a bed for the first few nights, Vettala nodded enthusiastically.

T'Noth and Etan joined them for the evening meal. N'Tevva had made plenty, no doubt anticipating that he would be hungry. She might have even known that T'Noth would join them; he often did. After they'd eaten their fill of stew and greens and dark bread, the children went outside, leaving the adults alone. S'Doryn wasn't sure if they intended to play or merely to speak where they couldn't be heard. It seemed to him that Jynna and Etan had every bit as much to discuss as did he and N'Tevva. His wife, though, appeared concerned as she watched them leave the house.

"They've traveled a long way today," she said, frowning. "And they've been through so much. Shouldn't we put them to bed?"

"We will soon," he told her. "But not quite yet. I imagine they need some time to themselves, without us around. The sooner they begin to feel comfortable here, the better for all of us."

She nodded, though she continued to glance anxiously toward the door. It had only been a few hours, but already she was trying to protect them as might their natural mother.

Before long, S'Doryn, N'Tevva, and T'Noth were joined by

U'Selle. N'Tevva offered her some food, but the a'laq refused, and was taken by another coughing fit.

When she could speak again, she asked about the eight days they'd spent in the hills with the children.

"Did you learn anything from them?" she asked.

S'Doryn briefly described Jynna's encounter with the Mettai woman.

For several moments after he finished, the a'laq merely stared at the floor. "It does all sound a bit odd," she finally muttered, "but really that's all. I don't see how this woman could have anything to do with an outbreak of the pestilence."

"Couldn't she use magic to put a curse on the people she met?" T'Noth asked.

She actually smiled. "A curse? I think you've listened to too many tales of Mettai blood magic." She shook her head. "As far as I understand it, Mettai magic is not all that different from our own. Yes, it comes from blood and earth, but their powers run no deeper than our own."

"They wouldn't have to run deeper," S'Doryn said. "They'd just need to be… different. We have healers who can mend wounds and tame fevers. Couldn't they just as easily cause illness as cure it?"

She frowned, but a moment later she conceded the point with a shrug. "I suppose. But you're assuming that she did far more than that. For any of this to make sense, she would have had to make herself immune.

"Or," T'Noth said, "she would have had to create a disease that strikes only at Qirsi."

"At Qirsi adults," S'Doryn corrected.

"Or at Qirsi magic."

All of them looked at N'Tevva.

"That makes more sense than directing it at adults," she said. "Doesn't it?"

S'Doryn shuddered, knowing that she was right. "Yes, it does."

"I asked this of S'Doryn in the hills," T'Noth said. "And now I'll ask you, A'Laq. What do we do about this?"

"About what?" U'Selle answered, sounding frustrated. "We have only a tale told to us by a child." She raised a hand, seeming to anticipate S'Doryn's objection. "I know she's clever, and I believe her to be honest, but I also know that she's been through a terrible ordeal. Her life these past nine days has been a waking nightmare. How do we separate what she truly saw from those things that haunted her sleep or grew from her imagination? None of us has seen this woman. Did you even see her baskets?"

"I didn't," S'Doryn said. "But according to T'Kaar, the other children remember seeing baskets in their homes that day."

She nodded. "Well, that's something at least. But do they confirm the rest?"

He shook his head. "No. That comes from Jynna alone." "I see."

"I believe her," S'Doryn said.

T'Noth nodded. "I do, too."

A small smile crossed U'Selle's lips. "To tell you the truth, I'd be inclined to as well. But I'm not certain what we can do about it. Even if we take as true everything that Jynna told you, we wouldn't know where to begin searching for this woman."

T'Noth shook his head. "So we do nothing," he said, his voice flat.

"For now. Keep talking to the children. Learn as much as you can from them. And in the meantime, I'll speak with the a'laqs on the plain and along the wash. Perhaps they'll know something about this woman."

"Thank you, A'Laq."

She smiled and stood, patting T'Noth on the shoulder as she stepped past him. "You both did well," she said, pausing in the doorway. "I hadn't foreseen the coming of these children into our village, but now that they're here, I think each will be a blessing to us in his or her own way. Good night, N'Tevva. I believe those girls will be very happy to have you around, after spending so many nights with nothing but Fal'Borna men and their horses."

The two women laughed, as did S'Doryn. T'Noth smiled as well, though he looked a bit confused.

Once U'Selle was gone their mirth faded, leaving them all silent and pensive. It was growing dark outside, and after a time N'Tevva went in search of the children. Left alone, S'Doryn and T'Noth continued to sit there, saying nothing, S'Doryn staring out the door at the deepening shadows around his home, T'Noth toying with his empty cup of wine.

"This could start a war," the younger man finally said.

S'Doryn looked at him and shook his head. "The Mettai are weak. They have no armies, no warriors. It wouldn't be much of a war."

"If the Mettai are attacked by a Qirsi army, Eandi warriors will come to their defense."

"It's just one woman, T'Noth, if it's even that. There's no reason for our people to do anything to the Mettai."

"You say that now, but what if this woman is responsible, and what if she takes her plague to other Fal'Borna villages, or to the J'Balanar?

What then?"

S'Doryn had to admit that it was a sobering question. "Let's hope someone finds her soon," he finally said.

"Let's hope."

A moment later, N'Tevva returned with the children. All three of them were flushed and laughing, even the little one, which gladdened

S'Doryn's heart.

T'Noth and Etan said their farewells, and walked off to T'Noth's home. N'Tevva began preparing the girls for bed in the bedroom that she and S'Doryn usually shared. For the time being, at least, that would be their room, and the adults would sleep in the common room. After a time, she came out again.

"They want you to say good night to them," she said.

He nodded and walked back to their bedroom. Now it was the girls' room. Was that how they'd speak of it from this night on? Was he really a father now?

They were tucked into the single bed, Vettala by the wall, her pale eyes shining in the light of the single candle that burned by the door. S'Doryn crossed to the bed and sat beside Jynna. "Good night," he said.

Jynna smiled. "Good night."

"You're comfortable?"

She nodded.

He looked at the younger girl. "And you?"

She hid her face in the pillow.

It seemed that smiling with the other children was one thing. Accepting him as a friend, much less as a new father, was quite another. He stood, walked to the door, and bent to blow out the candle. Before he could, Vettala let out a small cry.

"I think she wants it lit," Jynna said.

"All right then." He straightened and stepped out of the room. "Thank you," Jynna called to him. "From both of us."

He grinned. "You're welcome." He pulled the door until it was nearly all the way closed, and went out to the common room. N'Tevva was sitting at the table.

"Did the younger one say anything to you?" she asked, looking concerned.

"Not a word," he said, sitting beside her.

She shook her head. A pale wisp of hair fell over her brow and she brushed it away. She still looked much as she had when they first were joined. Her skin remained smooth, save for a few lines around her eyes and mouth, and she still wore her white hair tied back loosely. Her eyes were the color of the winter sun on a hazy day.

"She wouldn't even look at me," she said. "I tried everything, but you would have thought that I was a demon from the Underrealm itself the way she shied away from me."

"It'll take some time. But Jynna will help her through it."

"I know," she said. She smiled, though the look in her eyes remained sad. "There are children sleeping in our home."

"I've been thinking about that. It's not quite how we always hoped it would happen."

"No, but that's all right. They need us." "We're a bit old to be starting out as parents."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said airily. "Oh, I suppose you're getting on in years, but I'm certainly not."

He laughed, then leaned over and kissed her. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too." She took his hand, but he could see that she was troubled. "All this talk of a Mettai witch frightens me. It's going to frighten a lot of people as it gets around the village."

"It should," he said. "If she's really out there, doing to other villages what we think she did to Tivston, we should all be terrified."

Over the next several days, the girls began to settle into the rhythms of Fal'Borna life. They accompanied N'Tevva into the fields and they fished the waters of the lake with S'Doryn. They even went to the sanctuary for lessons with other children their ages, though N'Tevva was concerned about Vettala, who had yet to say a word to either her or S'Doryn, and who seemed unwilling to leave Jynna's side.

According to the older girl, however, Vettala willingly went off with children her own age once they reached the sanctuary. Even there, she spoke to no one, but she played some of the games that the younger children played, and she appeared to listen attentively to her lessons.

U'Selle had said that she would speak with other a'laqs, using her powers to walk in their dreams, as all Weavers could. But S'Doryn heard nothing from the a'laq, and he didn't presume to ask her, knowing that if she had anything of importance to tell him, she would do so.

The full of the two moons came and went, marking the beginning of the Harvest waning, and still the a'laq told him nothing.

"You should ask her," T'Noth urged one evening, as S'Doryn and

T'Kaar walked the fields with him.

"Don't you think she'd tell us if she knew anything?" T'Kaar asked.

"Perhaps she hasn't even reached for them yet," the younger man said. "She's not been well, you know. It might have slipped her mind." "And what if it hasn't?" S'Doryn asked. "What if she takes the ques tion as an affront?"

T'Noth offered a small shrug. "You could…" He shrugged a second time. "She'd probably understand. She knows how anxious we are for any word of the woman."

"Perhaps it slipped her mind," T'Kaar said, grinning now.

"Yes," S'Doryn said. "I think you should remind her, T'Noth. Old as I am, it might slip my mind as well."

T'Kaar laughed.

"Fine," the younger man said, walking away from them both. "We'll wait."

They didn't have to wait long. Three days into the waning, at midmorning, as he worked his crops, S'Doryn received word that the a'laq wished to speak with him. He hurried to her house, arriving there just as the brothers did. It seemed they had been summoned as well.

"Do you know what this is about?" T'Noth asked.

He sounded eager, as only a young man could under such circumstances. For his part, S'Doryn had started to hope that Jynna had been wrong about the Mettai woman, that her tale really was just the product of fear and grief and a young girl's imagination. He dreaded hearing whatever it was the a'laq had learned.

Stepping into the a'laq's cottage, they saw that the other members of the clan council were there as well, some of them seated around her table, others standing. Far more surprising, Jynna, who was supposed to be at the sanctuary, sat at the table beside U'Selle, looking pale and young and very scared. Every person in the room looked up as the three men entered.

"At last," the a'laq said brusquely. "Come in, please. There isn't much room, but I hadn't the strength to make my way to the sanctuary." "Not good," T'Kaar muttered, his voice tight.

S'Doryn had to agree.

Jynna looked as though she wanted to be near him, but was afraid to offend the a'laq. U'Selle appeared to notice this as well, for she whispered something to the girl, and immediately Jynna was on her feet. She ran to him, threw her arms around him, and pressed her face to his shirt.

"What's going on?" she asked, the words muffled. "Why did they bring me here?"

"I don't know, Jynna," he said, stroking her hair. "But we'll find out. Sit with me."

She nodded, and followed him to the table. T'Noth and T'Kaar sat with them and the rest of those who had been standing came to the table as well.

"When Jynna first came to our village with her story of the pestilence and its odd effect on her people," the a'laq began, "we didn't quite know what to make of it. Some wondered if this were some new form of the disease that struck only Qirsi victims. Others thought it might be unique to the Y'Qatt, a product of their forswearing of magic. And still others thought it might be the work of the Mettai, a spell directed at Qirsi magic.

"I've considered all of these possibilities and at the same time have been in contact with a'laqs throughout Fal'Borna lands to see if there are other villages or septs that have suffered as Jynna's people did, dreading the day I would find them."

She took a breath and was taken with a fit of coughing. When it finally passed, she dabbed at her mouth with a small cloth.

"I found them this morning. Or rather, they found me. Another _a'laq, a man named S'Plaed, spoke to me as I slept, Weaver to Weaver." Jynna turned to S'Doryn, looking puzzled.

"Weavers can walk in the dreams of other Qirsi," he whispered to her. "Even from afar. It allows us to communicate with other septs, even other Qirsi clans if need be."

U'Selle had paused in her tale, allowing him to explain. Now she went on. "S'Plaed leads a sept on the northern edge of the plain. Not long ago they numbered five thousand strong. Then they were visited by an Eandi merchant. Within hours of this man's appearance, the pestilence struck, sickening thousands-at least half of S'Plaed's sept. As with Jynna people, this strain of the disease took hold of their magic so that fire and shaping and healing raged out of control. Hundreds more died in the destruction the afflicted did to their families and neighbors. The a'laq usually meets with all merchants who visit his village, but in this case the man was in too great a hurry to leave. His haste is all that saved S'Plaed's life.

"According to S'Plaed, the merchant's name is Torgan Plye and among the wares he was selling that day were Mettai baskets of uncommon quality. This man has been named an enemy of all Fal'Borna people, and is to be killed on sight."

"Did you ask about the woman?" Jynna asked, drawing stares from all around the table. "There was a Mettai woman! She made the baskets!"

S'Doryn feared that U'Selle might be angered by the interruption, but the a'laq just shook her head.

"He said nothing about a woman, or about any Mettai for that matter."

Jynna started to say more, but U'Selle silenced her with a raised hand.

"The baskets are enough, child. I believe what you told us about the woman, and as soon as I heard that he was selling Mettai baskets, it occurred to me that she and the merchant are partners in some dark scheme. I don't know how or why she came to be working with this Torgan Plye, but clearly there are Eandi abroad on the plain who seek to destroy all Qirsi people, be they Fal'Borna or Y'Qatt."

"How long ago did this happen, A'Laq?" T'Noth asked.

"Not long. A matter of days. You should also know," she said, "that most of those who survived were children, just as with the outbreak in Tivston."

"It has to be the magic," S'Doryn said. "That's the only way to explain it."

"The only way?" asked one of the council members.

"I believe so. This is a disease that kills Qirsi adults but spares their

children, and the Eandi who spread it. How else could that be possible?"

"Then it must be the Mettai," said another member of the council.

"A curse of some sort. The Eandi couldn't do such a thing on their own."

"I told you this would lead to war."

S'Doryn looked at T'Noth, who was eyeing him closely, his expression grim.

"I told S'Plaed about Jynna," U'Selle was saying to them all, quieting the rising din in the room. "I also told him about the Mettai woman. It seems our people are under attack, though in a way that none of us has seen before, or even considered. Well, fine then. Our foes will find that the strength of the Fal'Borna hasn't slackened at all in the years since the last Blood Wars. Others will be watching now for the Mettai witch who struck at our friends in Tivston, just as we are, just as we will also be watching for this demon merchant, this Torgan Plye. If they're on the plain, they won't live long." A dark smile touched her face and was gone. "Enemies of the Fal'Borna never do."