"Do you know what happened to her?" he asked. "If she's not in Auberg, I'd like to have some idea of where she's gone."

I gave him a wry smile. "I can try, but you saw what happened when I tried to see Cantier's scar—all I got was faces of dead men, most of whom I didn't even know. I've been having visions like mad ever since Silvertooth fell, but I don't have any control over them."

He raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember? You grabbed Cantier and told him his dog had done it when it was hurt and afraid." He gave me a small smile. "Then you patted him on the cheek and said something to the effect that people and dogs had a lot in common. You were pretty frightening, Pest. If it hadn't been for the priest… It was a good day for you when Old Gifford died and Tolleck came to the village."

I nodded. "I remember the priest. Well enough. If I can find her for you, I will. Come into the house so I can sit down."

I did not want to do this. No visions all day—well, only that little one about Kith and Quilliar. But Danci had been—was—my friend, too.

Kith led his horse to a patch of grass and ground-tied him before following me into the cottage. I waited for him to shut the door, then took a seat on a stool set against a wall. As it was the only seat of any kind left in the house, Kith was forced to stand. Leaning back, I closed my eyes and let Danci's face form in my mind. If it had worked with Cantier, it might work for Danci.

Honey-brown hair, I thought, with a touch of curl. Gray eyes that glittered with fun and a stubborn jaw. Clear skin and a nose slightly too long for her face. Even as I cataloged Danci's features, her image faded into another face.

Predatory eyes, cinnamon-colored and slitted like a cat's, were startling, but his features were human. Merriment and laughter touched his face, which was a gray darker than night's shadow. His eyes met mine, and his brow lifted in mild inquiry. I was uneasily certain that he saw me, that perhaps the vision was as much his as it was mine. For an instant I glimpsed loneliness that matched mine, and I wondered what he had lost.

"Hob?" said Kith's voice in my ear. "You mean Hob's Mountain?"

I blinked stupidly at him for a moment, oddly startled by the color of his skin. "I don't know. Do I?"

"All you said was 'Hob. »

Still half-caught in my vision, I shook my head, unable to answer him because I didn't remember saying any

thing. "You said you're going to Auberg by the old trail over the Hob?"

"Yes."

"Would you mind if I went with you? Duck's back, so I wouldn't need to borrow a horse." I started to get up, but a wave of dizziness caught me halfway up.

"Did you see something?" He pulled me to my feet and steadied me a moment.

I nodded. "Nothing to do with Danci. I have no idea what it means, but I think that I might find out on the trip over." It was something to do besides sit here and contend with memories and visions. Maybe, if I kept busy, the visions would go away. Even this one I'd had about the wildling with red-brown eyes wasn't as consuming as the ones I'd had earlier.

Kith nodded once, and stepped outside. "Fine, then. I'm meeting the harper at the inn just before dawn. Pack food to last at least four days."

I followed him to his horse. It took him a few moments to gather his reins, and I thought about how frustrating he must find it to have only one arm.

"If you take the ends of the reins in your teeth you could collect them faster and more evenly," I observed.

He smiled at me, surprising me with a glimpse of his old self. "I do, if no one is watching." Reins properly tightened, he stepped into the saddle.

"Kith?" I asked abruptly.

"Hmm?" His horse shifted its weight impatiently.

"Would you teach me how to use a knife? I can use a bow—Father taught me. But that wouldn't do me any good in close quarters. I've got one of Daryn's knives in the house." It was in the cellar, waiting for sharpening. I could do that tonight.

"Fighting?" He looked thoughtful. "I suppose I ought to, with you living out here alone." He wasn't stupid enough to tell me that I ought to move into town—the villagers might be more dangerous to me than the raiders.

"Fine. Bring your knife with you when you come, and we'll start tomorrow."

"Right."

"Aren?" he said.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you want to bring Duck? No offense, but he's not really a riding horse. That trail is really rough, even dangerous in some places. I could borrow one of Father's mounts for you."

"Could you?" I said doubtfully, remembering Albrin's reaction on the long ride to the village. My memories must have been accurate, because Kith flushed.

"Never mind," I said. "Give him some time. Duck and I will do just fine. Remember, I've been over the trail before—with you, as I recall."

He looked blank for a moment, then grinned. "And wasn't your father fit to be tied about it, too? I'd forgotten that. Quill and I hiked up the Hob to spend our first night alone, feeling all grown-up and daring. Got to the place we were going to camp, and there was his skinny baby sister. Never did tell us how you got there ahead of us."

I laughed. "I was afraid to. I knew Quill would tell Father, and I'd never step out of the house again. I climbed the cliffs straight up rather than taking the route you did. It cut miles from the trip, but about halfway up, I wasn't sure I was going to make it."

He shook his head, and shifted his weight so Torch started back up the trail. "Always did have a fool's courage, I'll say that for you. See you in the morning."

"See you," I said, watching him ride away. With the suddenness of spring, the wind chose that moment to turn cool, sending a chill down my spine—a chill that somehow reminded me of dark skin and cinnamon eyes.

The streets were empty in the predawn hours. Duck's unshod hooves hit the dirt road quietly.

A few dogs barked as I rode past their houses, but I didn't see any people until we neared the inn.

Merewich stood with Albrin. Even from a distance I could tell they were arguing fiercely, though in tones so hushed I didn't even catch the echoes of their voices. Beside them, isolated by the stone-grim expression on his face, Kith stood looking out at the darkened streets, absently rubbing his hand against the side of Torch's face. The gelding was the first to notice our approach.

Alerted by his horse's fixed attention, Kith said something to the other two men. By the time I rode into the inn's cobbled courtyard, both Merewich and Kith's father had subsided into silence.

Kith nodded in greeting. "Wandel is saddling his horse, then we'll leave."

I gave him a half-smile, but my attention was on Albrin, who turned his head aside as if he could not see me. I swallowed uncomfortably. Albrin had taught me how to ride and where the best strawberries grew in the spring.

Merewich patted my knee, talking as if Albrin couldn't hear him. "Give him time. I've talked with the priest, and he believes—as do I—that we haven't seen the worst of this. Brother Tolleck is something of a scriptural scholar. He says there'll be dark days ahead, and I find myself agreeing with him. Something rather worse than a few raiders. Mind that you keep your eyes open."

I nodded my head, turning away from Albrin to meet the old man's eyes. "I will."

Wandel came from the stable with his sweet-faced, creamy-white mare, and stepped into the saddle. He moved like a man several decades younger than he was—almost like Kith. I frowned, wondering why a harper moved like a soldier.

"My dear," he exclaimed, seeing Duck's bridle for the first time, "what are you using for a bridle? It looks like it's made of knotted rags."

I grinned at him, though the expression felt odd after so long. "It is—but it's a hackamore, no bit. Raiders took every scrap of leather in the bam. This was the best I was able to come up with. It's not as if Duck needs much more than a reminder now and again."