Unease swept him. He struggled, but found himself unable to rouse from this dream of the future unfolding before him in the dragon’s brow. The Scouts of Halla vanished from view. Lost in the underground caverns of the Smoking Hills, their chanting diminished, finally ceased. Darkness awhile. Then he beheld the Plain rolling before him, drenched in the sunlight of middle spring. He had no inkling how much time was to have passed.

Before him, two groups of unicorns converged. The first, led by Tek, her particolored rose and jet unmistakable among the orange reds and sky-water blues, the occasional grey or gold. Narrow at the head, flaring, then tapering toward the rear, the herd flowed across the green grass Plain. Young occupied the center, flanked by their elders on every side. The steady, deliberate pace, Jan observed, enabled even the youngest to travel untaxed. Half-growns frisked and sparred along the fringes. Plainsgrass around them rippled and bowed.

The vast warband of the Vale moved toward another group, far fewer, but much more widely spaced. The foremost of these stood dark blue with a silver mane. Jan recognized Calydor with his star-bespeckled coat. To one side stood the seer’s niece, Crimson, and her pale-blue filly, Sky. Crimson’s belly looked heavy and round, in foal again. Her companion, Goldenhair, was nowhere to be seen, but Jan spotted her father, Ashbrindle, on Calydor’s other side. Numerous Plainsdwellers flanked them. They stood awaiting the Valedwellers’ approach.

Tek whistled the herd to a halt. Dagg flanked her, Ryhenna a few paces behind. Her mother, Jah-lila, stood at her other shoulder with Lell, Teki the healer, and Dhattar and Aiony with Ses well back of them all. Above, Illishar circled, his shadow passing over them from time to time.

“Hail, Free People of the Plain,” the pied mare called. “I am Tek, regent and mate to Aljan Moonbrow, our prince. We come in peace and seek no quarrel.”

“Hail,” the star-strewn seer replied. “I am Calydor, singer and farseer among my folk, who call me Alma’s Eyes. Some here have met your mate. I bid you safe travel.”

“We seek to pass through your lands on our way to our ancestral home, which we mean to wrest from treacherous wyverns,” Tek continued. “Have we your leave to pass?”

Calydor tossed his mane. “Though your goal is known to us, none here may grant you leave—for the Plain is not ours. We lay no claim. Rather, ’t claims us, the People of the Plain. Pass freely, as we do, and ask no leave.”

The pied leader of the unicorns bowed her head. “I thank you, Calydor, and all your folk. I pledge my herd will not trouble yours as we pass. My mate has come before us and told our tale. Should any among you care to join our cause, my folk stand eager to accept allies. Once we have won back our Hallow Hills, all who fought alongside us will be welcome to share our newfound home.”

Snorting, stamping, and a tossing of heads among the Plainsdwellers followed. Jan’s ears pricked, but he could not be sure he had heard a whicker or two, quickly bitten off. Solemnly, Calydor shook his head.

“I thank you, Regent Tek, for your generosity. I know of none among my folk who would join you. We of the Plain are not reft of homeland. We stand content. Any of my fellows are, of course, free to embrace your cause. Perhaps in time some will make such wishes known. But we do not generally savor war. The vastness of the Mare’s Back settles our disputes. If others offend us, we leave them. But we wish you well for the sake of your mate, who impressed me greatly as an honorable wight.”

Watching, high above them in dreams, Jan warmed to Calydor’s praise. Yet he sensed consternation among his own folk at the Plainsdweller’s reply. Most of those from the Vale, Jan suspected, had simply assumed these ragtag vagabonds would rush to join the herd’s battle march, praising Alma for the privilege. That their herd’s sacred quest might be viewed with cool detachment by outsiders baffled some. Jan himself could only smile. He admired Tek’s calm, collected response.

“So be it,” she said warmly. “We welcome any who join us and bid fair weather to the rest. One other favor I would ask. My folk have traversed the Plain many times on yearly pilgrimage to initiate our young. But those bands numbered only warriors and half-growns, no elders or weanlings or suckling mares. The host before you moves far more slowly. We need guides to show us shelter from wind and rain, help us ward away pards and find sufficient water. Would any among you consent to the task?”

Jan sensed interest stirring among the Free People of the Plain. Calydor stepped forward.

“I myself will gladly escort you,” he answered. “I wot these parts well. Many of my companions may choose to accompany. We are, I confess, most curious, having heard many rumors of you, but rarely met Moondancers face to face.

Tek nodded. “Very well,” she said. “Let us share path for as long as may be.”

With mixed eagerness and hesitation, the two groups merged, colts and fillies boldest, half-growns boisterous. Full-growns and elders on both sides approached more warily. Yet the two groups did mingle, exchanged tentative questions, greetings. Only one among the Valedwellers did not stir, Jan noticed presently. One mare poised motionless. Others eddied around her, yet she remained rooted, eyes riveted on the star-strewn seer who, joined by his brother, niece and niece’s daughter, stood treating with Tek, Dagg, Ryhenna, Teki, Jah-lila and various Elders of the Vale.

Calydor caught sight of her suddenly. She stood not many paces from him. Glancing up, his gaze fell upon her. He froze. He had not marked her before, Jan realized. She must have stood screened from his view during Tek’s initial greeting, or perhaps the pied mare had held the seer’s whole attention. But he glimpsed the other now. Jan saw the silver-flecked stallion’s eyes lock on hers. Half a dozen heartbeats, the pair of them stared mute. The mare’s fiery mane, red as poppies, beat against the pale ivory of her pelt.

With a start, she wheeled and loped away. Not a word or a whistle, not a backward glance. Unnoticed by the others, the stallion’s eyes yearned after her. Plainly, he could not desert the parley. But why, Jan wondered, had the mare not joined them? As one of the youngest of the Council of Elders, she was entitled, indeed expected. Jan’s brow furrowed. The pale mare’s conduct baffled him. He would have thought her eager to speak with Calydor, learn all she could from the seer of the time he had spent with Jan. But she had fled away. The young prince could not fathom it. For the red-maned mare had been Ses, his own dam.

A passage of time. Jan knew not how long. He had lost all awareness of the dragon’s den and of his own body, wholly absorbed in visions of events to come. He knew only that time had elapsed between the last future scene he had observed and the new one now beginning. The Plain still, but night shadowed. A brilliant moon shone down. Tall grass swayed and whispered about a series of meandering waterways and interconnected pools. Jan spied unicorns of the Vale camped all around, most lying up near the largest waterhole. A few Plainsdwellers mingled with the herd. Others lay off in the tall grass or under trees flanking the fingerling pools.

Sentries, both Valedwellers and Plainsdwellers, stood alert for pards. The fillies and foals lay surrounded by elders. Jan harbored no fear for them. Scenting the slight, sighing breeze, he found it free of all odor of predators. Nevertheless, he was keenly aware that this oasis—so vital to his folk—formed a maze of rills and rises, troughs and groves and irregular pools. Despite the sentries’ diligent watch, almost any creature—even one large as a unicorn or pard—might steal past undetected if it moved stealthily and luck ran with it.