“But it did not go as well as you had planned,” Jodoli replied, thinking the words were intended for him. “This we have learned from the other warriors. They said that as they looked back, the town and the fort were still burning, but not in a way that would take it all to ash. So what will you do? Will you still wait for a time, and then surprise them again?”

Soldier’s Boy shook his head, a Gernian gesture. He suddenly realized that and stopped. “We will not surprise them again. We had but one opportunity to slip in among them and take them unawares. I’ve spent that, and not bought much with it. If we tried it again, we would find marksmen on the walls and a lookout in the tower. We would be slaughtered before we could even get close to them.”

“So,” Jodoli asked him after a long moment had passed. “What is our next move, then?”

Soldier’s Boy noticed the “our” and almost smiled. He could not decide whether to be offended or pleased. “Our” plan? Jodoli had not taken himself into any danger and had contributed little to the planning. But if he was willing to be seen as part of Soldier’s Boy’s plans, he should probably accept him as an ally. He bent his head over his bowl of soup and silently ate for a time instead of answering. I could feel the food enter his system, feel it replenishing his magic. Slowly he forced his thoughts back to their task. “What is our next move to destroy the intruders?” he asked at last.

“Yes.”

“I don’t know. The magic does not make it clear to me.” The others looked shocked that he would admit it. I felt only a satisfaction, cold and hard. I hadn’t known either what this magic was supposed to make me do. That Soldier’s Boy had finally and bluntly admitted his ignorance as well meant that, just perhaps, it was all some great mistake. All the Specks had been pinning such high hopes on him for so long, and perhaps they were all wrong. Perhaps the magic itself was wrong. Jodoli said the same old horrible words.

“But I have seen it, in my dreams. You are the one the magic has chosen. There was something you were to do that would drive the intruders away and save the People.”

Soldier’s Boy set the empty soup dish on the icy ground beside him. He was suddenly very tired. Tired and sick of this life that he had been thrust into. He spoke simply, plainly. “There were small tasks the magic gave me. I’ve done every one of them. I allowed the magic to look through my eyes. I gave a signal to the Dust Dancers who were sent to the city. I wrote copiously in a book, and when I left the intruders, I abandoned that book. I carried a stone, and when the time felt right, I passed the stone on. All simple, even stupid tasks. None of them made any difference. And twice now, I’ve done things not as the magic directed me but as I best thought would serve the People. Once, when I burned every bit of magic that I had to help the forest devour the King’s Road. And again, when I led every warrior I could muster against Gettys. Yet all I have done at the magic’s bidding and all I have done at my own bidding have come to naught. I have no more ideas. I think the task that all believe is mine is beyond me. So, instead, I will choose one that I think I can do and devote myself to that.”

I am not sure that Olikea was even listening to him. There was something dead about her, as empty as Dasie’s eyes. She’d given up on life and was going through the motions. She reached to take his empty bowl and refill it. Instead, he caught her hand. He held it, not as a man holds the hand of a woman he loves but as an elder brother might hold his little sister’s hand to assure her that he meant his words. “I’m going to bring Likari home to Olikea.” He glanced up at her face and changed his words. “I’m going to bring Likari home to us. If that is the only thing I can accomplish with my life and my magic, then I will do it. This is not a task the magic has given to me, but one I choose.”

Both of the women maintained a weighted silence, but I saw tears rise in Firada’s eyes. She leaned over to take her sister’s other hand. Jodoli seemed completely unaware of the importance of his offer to them. “And how will you do that?” he demanded harshly. “Kinrove has summoned him as a dancer and he has gone. We have told you. You cannot simply bring him back to us. He would not stay. He might not even know us.” He looked disgusted as he leaned back from the fire and the food. “Nevare, you speak too often of what you will do with your power, always thinking you know more than the magic. You and Dasie, so sure you could destroy Gettys, even if it was something the magic had not bade you do! And now, you will steal Likari back for us somehow. It is a cruel hope that you dangle before these women. The magic took Likari. How can you use the magic against itself, to take him back? Can a knife cut itself, a fire burn itself? NO! Will you ever learn that when you set yourself above or against the magic, you are wrong? That you are doomed to fail?” He shook his head and said in a lower voice, “Kinrove and I were fools, to allow ourselves to be coerced into helping you. We should have fought you with every means we had. Neither of us will make that mistake again. Whatever foolish idea you are harboring, do not seek to include me or my feeder.”

The rebuke was the harshest I had ever heard Jodoli speak. Soldier’s Boy smarted under the sharp words. He seethed with anger and indignation, but could not think of a reply. “I will not need your help,” he finally responded, but his words sounded childish, even to himself. His pride was pricked. What I felt most strongly was his determination to do something, anything, that would prove his worth to his followers. I wondered if he would try to pit himself against Kinrove. If he had Dasie’s backing, he might break the dance once more. It would be a stupid thing to do, was my opinion. They’d stirred up Gettys like a boy poking a stick into a hornets’ nest. Kinrove’s dance would be the only thing holding the Gernians back from tracking the Specks into the forest and annihilating them. Stopping Kinrove’s dance now would be a suicidal gesture for all the Specks.

As he and Jodoli glared at one another, a sudden howl rose from the group gathered around Dasie and her fire. It crested in shrieks of disbelief and pain. The sound paralyzed all of them for a moment, and then both Firada and Olikea leapt to their feet and ran to the other fire. Soldier’s Boy rose more slowly, looking toward the ululating feeders.

“What is it?” Soldier’s Boy demanded with dread.

“She’s dead,” Jodoli said flatly. “Dead in winter, worse luck for her. We will have to act swiftly.”

“I don’t understand.” Those were the words he spoke, but echoing within him were other words. Jodoli was right. It’s all my fault. I failed her, too. Independent of his weariness, a separate blackness rose at the edges of his vision; he feared he would faint. The harder he tried to improve things, the worse they became. Dasie had been a heroine to her kin-clan, and beyond. She had freed the dancers from Kinrove and then gone forth to fight for her people. For her to die now, before she could even return to them with the small triumph of the raid, would devastate her folk. Unbidden, a cowardly thought crept coldly through him. It could turn all the Specks against him. Then where could he go? To whom would he turn for shelter and sustenance?

Jodoli was not answering that, but another concern. “Winter is the worst time for a Great One to die. Her body will have to be borne back to the Valley of the Ancestor Trees. The trees are mostly dormant at this time of year; it will be hard for her chosen tree to take her in. It will be much more difficult to join her to her tree. Some of her may be lost.”

“Lost?” he echoed unwillingly.

“We will have to move quickly. The sooner she reaches her tree, the better. If there is still warmth in her body, that is best of all. I pray that when my time comes, I will die when my tree already embraces me and my kin-clan stands around me singing. Dasie must go to her tree almost alone, in winter with only a few to sing to her. Oh, this is not a good omen.”