But while the paddock was full, the sept looked to have been deserted. Except for a few narrow plumes of pale smoke rising from shelters, Enly saw nothing to indicate that there were any people in the settlement. In fact, several of the shelters appeared to have been destroyed. Some of them were blackened, as if by fire, while others simply looked like they had been crushed.

"What do you make of it?" Jenoe asked, his voice low.

Enly turned to answer, but then realized that the marshal had been speaking to Tirnya. She was eyeing the sept through narrowed eyes, her brow creased.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say they'd already been attacked," she said. Enly shook his head. "Not attacked. Struck by the plague."

Tirnya looked at him quickly, then faced her father again. "Of course. He's right. This is what the plague does. It robs them of control over their magic before it kills them. They destroyed their village themselves."

"So are all of them dead?" asked Marshal Crish.

"No," Gries said. "There are fires burning in the shelters that remain. Some survived. I think the eldest was right. They know we're coming and they're prepared to fight us."

"Then we'll hold to our plan," Jenoe told them. "Eldest, you and your people can begin at any time."

Fayonne shook her head. "Not from this distance. We need to be closer for our magic to work."

A look of annoyance crossed the marshal's face. "Very well." He raised a hand and indicated that the army was to resume its advance. A moment later they were marching again.

When they had covered perhaps half the remaining distance to the sept, many of the horses, including Enly's, began to act strangely. Nallaj swished his tail and began to fight against Enly's efforts to steer him toward the sept. Several of the others, Tirnya's sorrel among them, actually reared.

"They're using language of beasts!" Gries called out. "We need to leave the horses here!"

The marshals and captains riding up front dismounted, and word began to spread back through the ranks that other captains and lead riders should do the same.

"Will your magic work now?" Jenoe asked.

Fayonne offered a noncommittal shrug. "I'd like to be closer."

The marshal, it seemed, had reached the limits of his patience. "Yes, Eldest, and I'd like to be on my horse still. But this is war, and we can't always have things just as we'd like. Can your magic be effective from this distance?"

"Not very," the woman said in a flat voice.

Jenoe cast a look at Tirnya that seemed to say, What's the use of having these people with us? But he held his tongue, and they started forward once more, all of them now on foot.

They hadn't gone far when thin tendrils of white mist began to emerge from the ground around the shelters, spidery and ghostlike. The mist coalesced slowly into a dense fog that would soon obscure the Fal'Borna shelters. "Will the finding spell work through this mist?" Gries asked.

"The spell will work, but naturally it will be harder to see the results."

"Then what good is it?" Jenoe asked, his voice rising.

"I told you all of this would happen, Marshal," Fayonne said. "I predicted that they would go for your horses first. I predicted that they would call forth a mist."

"Yes, and you also made it sound as if your magic could overcome these things. Now it seems that it can't. We don't know for certain, of course, because you haven't shown us any magic yet!"

The eldest smiled thinly. "Very well. Blades!" she called to her people. "Start with the finding spell. Use the wording Mander taught you."

The Mettai pulled their knives from their belts and stooped to grab handfuls of dirt. Then they sliced open the backs of their hands. Even knowing that these people wielded blood magic, Enly couldn't help but wince at the sight. He wanted to ask them if it hurt, but like the others from Stelpana, he kept silent and watched. The sorcerers deftly gathered the blood from their wounds on the flat sides of their blades, turned over their bleeding hands to reveal the earth they had gathered, and tipped the blades so that the blood mingled with the soil. Enly heard them begin to mumble to themselves. They all seemed to begin with the words "Blood to earth, life to power," but after that he had difficulty making out what they said. Too many people were speaking at once.

When they finished, though, they all heaved the bloody mixture they held in their hands toward the sept. He never would have believed that they could throw the dark mud so far, and as soon as the stuff left their hands, it appeared to transform itself into fine golden sand, which should have billowed like smoke in the wind and fallen uselessly to the grass. But it didn't.

It seemed to be propelled by some unseen force, which, Enly realized, it had been: magic. It soared through the air, shimmering faintly as it went, and spread over the settlement before seeming to sprinkle down on the shelters like a light rain. At first nothing happened. Soon, though, a few of the shelters that hadn't yet vanished within the Qirsi mist began to glow faintly.

No one from the army said a word. The marshals and most of the captains standing up front stared open-mouthed at the sept. Thinking this, Enly realized that his own mouth was open.

"That was remarkable, Eldest," Jenoe finally said.

"It was a difficult spell," she said, as if answering a question no one had asked. "Twelve parts, which is a lot for any Mettai. We needed to make it so in order to reveal not only magic, but Weaver magic. And also to make it reach the settlement from here."

Jenoe nodded. "Well, I apologize for doubting you."

She shrugged and licked her blade clean. The other Mettai cleaned the blood from their knives the same way. Tirnya looked away, frowning slightly.

Noticing Tirnya's expression, Fayonne said, "The Mettai never waste blood." She turned back to Jenoe. "The Weavers will have a yellow glow. All the others will be white."

Enly scanned the mist that had now enveloped the settlement. He could see several places that seemed to gleam faintly with a pale light, but he saw no yellow.

Jenoe turned to the captains. "Tell the archers to aim for those light areas when we're close enough."

"What about the fire magic?" Gries asked Fayonne. "And those wolves you spoke of?"

"For those we should wait until we're closer."

"All right, then," the marshal said.

He pulled his sword free and held it aloft so that all in his army could see. Then he waved it forward twice, and once again the army began to march. They still saw no sign of any Qirsi other than those pale areas of light within the mist. Nor did they hear any voices.

"This is all very odd," Enly muttered. "We're marching on a Fal'Borna village, and all we've had to face so far is a mist and some agitated horses."

Jenoe nodded. "I agree. Call the archers forward now. I want them ready as soon as we're within range."

The captains turned and called to their lead riders, who in turn called for their archers to advance. The bowmen ran forward even as the rest of the army continued their march. Soon three broad lines of archers took positions at the front of the army, spreading to the left and right so that they could launch their arrows from a variety of angles.

As soon as they were close enough, Jenoe shouted an order, making the army halt. He raised his sword again and this time waved it sideways. Those in command of the bowmen barked their commands, hundreds of bows thrummed, and a volley of arrows leaped into the sky, arcing high over the plain and then descending into that magical mist.

Screams went up from the sept. Some of them sounded like the death cries of men, but many others seemed to come from women or perhaps even children.

An instant later, a pale yellow light appeared in the fog, like a candle on a misty night.