Hanna Uljaken's eyes widened slightly as she cast her gaze around the room. "Urn… I'm not sure. Maybe we should call the Trumans."

Kyle laughed. "Considering the state of their relationship with him, I'm not sure they could tell us any better than we could guess."

"But I'm not so sure we actually could guess. Mitch always seemed very cold and distant to me."

"Even with your earring?" asked Seeks-the-Moon, now seated casually on the couch. He smiled innocently when both looked sharply over at him.

"Yes, even with that," Uljaken said tersely, but Kyle thought she had paled slightly at Moon's comment

He began walking toward the bedroom. "Well, then, we look for something he had frequent contact with."

The bedroom, unlike the rest of the apartment, was a shambles.

“I was going to ask if anyone had cleaned in here since the boy disappeared, but I think I have my answer," Kyle said.

"The cleaning service only comes when they have his permission."

Kyle stepped carefully toward a pile of clothing. "And since no one could get hold of him, they didn't." He pushed through the garments with his foot, using the toe of his boot to lift out a black T-shirt. The cracked holographic logo of the band L'Inflame was just barely legible. "The Infamous?" said Kyle.

Ms Uljaken shrugged. "I don't know the group either." Her eyes, though, widened suddenly as she pointed at it. "He used to wear that all the time! I think he said it was autographed. He was very proud of it."

Kyle smiled in satisfaction. "Then I suspect this will do quite well." He flipped the shirt up off his foot and caught it. "Frag," he said, "I've had less."

Back in the living room, he surveyed the casting circle with his astral senses. Dormant lines of force were visible around the edge of the area, connecting each of the stands. He checked each closer, making sure the links and locks of energy were correctly prepared. They seemed to be.

"All right," he said. "Let's do it."

"Should I call the two guards in?" asked Uljaken.

Seeks-the-Moon snorted and Kyle shook his head. "No, they won't be able to handle the kind of problems we might have in here. Seeks-the-Moon will take care of anything unexpected that might occur."

The spirit nodded stoically, then tipped his hat as Kyle stepped within the area of the circle. Draped over his left arm was the black T-shirt and held in the same hand was a small piece of parchment that he'd taken from his case and on which he had written the words "Mitchell Gregory Truman". Taking his place in the center of the circle, he bowed his head and closed his eyes. Minutes passed as he stood there silent and still.

"Isn't he awfully quiet?" Uljaken whispered to Moon. "I thought magicians had to chant when casting spells."

"Some do." Seeks-the-Moon was watching Kyle carefully. "Shaman or mage, it makes no difference. They seem to need the universe to hear them. I think he's quiet because the magic of his people isn't."

"I'd have never guessed he was Amerindian if I hadn't read the Knight Errant report."

The spirit snorted. "You obviously haven't taken a good look at his nose."

Uljaken started to laugh, but stifled it quickly when she saw that Kyle had lifted his head and was slowly stretching out his right hand toward the east coordinate. "Now we must be quiet," the spirit said as Kyle suddenly turned his hand palm up and opened his eyes.

An argent flame appeared on the east stand, turning gold as it jumped to the coordinate stand next to it going clockwise, and men finally brilliant scarlet as it jumped to the south stand. It jumped again to the next coordinate, changing to violet and then bright sapphire when it reached the western stand. Kyle was turning to face north as the flame leaped again, became deep emerald, and then coppery as it reached the north. Finally, a white flame flickered to life at the northeast coordinate.

Uljaken looked wide-eyed at all the flaming stands. She could see no wick nor any other source for the flame.

Seeks-the-Moon leaned slightly closer to her. "It's magic," he said in a stage whisper.

"This is amazing."

"Wait." The spirit stretched out his hand toward the big windows overlooking the lake. He gestured, and the heavy vertical blinds moved across and rotated, blocking the light. The room dimmed, and in that near dark it was possible to make out a faint aura of energy, a globe it seemed, surrounding the circle area.

"The ward," said Seeks-the-Moon. "It keeps bad things out and good things in."

"How long will this take?"

Seeks-the-Moon shrugged. "At least two hours. I hope you brought something to read."

Inside the circle, the weave of the forces at play radiated outward from Kyle into astral space like wheels within wheels of colors the same as the flames marking the circle. Each rotated in a different direction, at a different speed; and was positioned at different angles from the rest.

Kyle, though, was at the mystical and physical center, attempting to link the energies of the ritual to those of Mitchell Gregory Truman, wherever he might be. Serving as the focus of the synchronization was the boy's shirt, which still held a metaphysical impression of him burned into it from prolonged contact.

Kyle reached out mystically and changed the rotation of one of the wheels, the copper one. To his astral senses it began to emit a low, quiet tone whose resonance soon matched the shirt. Kyle smiled. Now it was only a matter of time. He changed the position of the silver circle until it matched the copper one, which pulsed and began to rotate on its axis around Kyle. Then Kyle touched the shirt hanging from his arm with his astral senses and completed the last link between it and the copper ring. The wheel flashed and a ghostly image of it shot outward beyond the circle in all directions. A copper wheel still rotated around him, but Kyle knew that an aspect of it, being in synchrony with Mitch Truman, was being drawn to the boy's physical body. And when it arrived, Kyle would be able to cast the detection spell and learn the boy's location. The search could take a while if Mitchell wasn't in the city. Meanwhile it would take all of Kyle's concentration to keep the wheels spinning.

Outside the circle, Hanna Uljaken and Seeks-the-Moon watched carefully. Physically, Kyle had moved little, but Moon was quietly narrating each step of the ritual as it progressed.

"The Sending involves synchronizing the spell being cast with the target, much in the same way that the Linking synchronized the ritual's energy with the target."

"But if he's been found, why is the spell necessary?" she asked.

“The energies are linked, but the magician has no way of knowing where they lead. He is forcing a connection that should not be. It is not until the Sending that the flow of energy is sufficient to be traceable, in either direction."

"So you could trace a Sending back to its origin?'

The spirit smiled. "That's why I'm here."

"I see."

"But we're not at that stage-yet." The spirit seemed to tense suddenly. "Something is wrong."

"Are we in danger?"

"No, it's too early in the ritual for that…"

Inside, Kyle felt the change in the energy rhythms. The copper wheel was vibrating. Soon its vibration would spread to the other wheels and unravel the entire ritual. He was just reaching out mystically to strengthen it when, with a loud bell tone, it shattered. The others quickly followed suit in a blinding cascade of color and sound. Kyle braced for the psychic backlash, but it was only minimal when it came, easily countered by his training. He restored his physical senses as half the paper with Mitchell Truman's name on it drifted slowly to the floor, smoking. The name had been divided cleanly in two.

"What happened?" asked Seeks-the-Moon, stepping up to the edge of the still-active circle. Kyle held up his hand as he scanned the last vestiges of the ritual, searching for more clues to the reasons for its dissolution.