“What can you tell me about this, Lehr?” asked Tier. “How long have they been gone?”

It was an unreasonable question to ask of even the most seasoned tracker. The roof of the smithy kept the rain off and the walls protected the dirt floor. Tier wouldn’t have been able to tell how long the steel had lain on the ground, abandoned to tend to whatever emergency had called the smith away.

But Lehr, like Jes and Tier himself, was an Order Bearer—and his Order was Falcon—the Hunter.

Lehr cast his Falcon’s eyes over the scene and Tier felt the rise of magic as his son read the traces left by the people who’d lived here.

“No one’s been in this building for at least two days, maybe as long as three,” he said finally. “But there were chickens here until yesterday.”

They’d seen no chickens when they rode up.

“There are people here still,” said Jes after a moment, his voice crisp and alert. “I can smell them.”

Something about the deserted place had alarmed his oldest son. Jes, his sweet-natured slow-speaking Jes, was gone as if he had never been, and in his place was the deadly predator who sometimes looked out of Jes’s eyes. Jes’s Order was a heavier burden than the others. Jes was Guardian, and the magic-induced dread that accompanied his secondary nature, unique to the Eagle’s Order, sent chills up Tier’s spine.

Lehr didn’t even look up from the ground just outside the smithy. “Something ate the chickens.”

“What kind of something?” asked Tier.

“I don’t know,” Lehr answered. “It’s not very big—about the weight of a small wolf. See, here’s a print.”

Tier peered at the faint trace in the dust of the small trail. To his eyes it could have been any of a number of animals. “Could it be a raccoon?”

Lehr shook his head. “It’s not a raccoon. No racoon has claws that size.”

“Can you see where the people went?”

“There’s someone here, Da,” Tole said, his face pressed against a crack in the wall. “Out by the smithy. Strangers this time.”

Aliven looked up from the damp cloth he was using on his wife’s forehead. She hadn’t opened her eyes since he’d brought her here days ago.

Because their home was closer to the well than the smithy was, his wife had been quicker to answer their daughter’s scream. By the time he’d gotten to the well, Lorra was dead and his wife was struggling beneath some dark beast. When the strange creature noticed Aliven it ran off; at first he’d thought that the sound of his shout or the sight of his hammer had sent it fleeing—but he’d since learned the folly of that. Perhaps it only hadn’t want to kill its food too fast lest it spoil. In any case, between the time he’d carried Irna into the house and returned for Lorra, it had come back and dragged her body away.

He’d sent his son for Tally, his wife’s cousin, who’d been so immersed in his potting that he’d not heard Lorra’s scream. As the other man had come hurrying over, it had attacked yet again, from behind the garden hut. If Aliven hadn’t been carrying his hammer still, the beast would have gotten them both instead of just clawing up Tally’s face.

He’d never seen anything move as fast as the beast did. Aliven had gotten Tally and the two children into their hut and barred the windows and doors. So far the beast hadn’t torn through the wooden walls, but the smith was pretty certain the thin walls wouldn’t keep it out when it finally decided it wanted in.

It had, after all, herded him back into the hut as neatly as a well-trained sheepdog putting lambs into their fold. Yesterday, a couple of farmers had come to pick up the plowshare he’d fixed for them. Aliven had left the hut to warn them, but he’d been too late. He’d found them both, dead, behind the potter’s shed.

The beast had let him stay there a while. But when he’d gotten to his feet, it had pushed him back to the hut with unseen growls and noises. It wanted them there until it was hungry again.

Both Irna and Tally were dying. The initial wounds had been bad enough, but infection had set in with frightening speed. Irna hadn’t moved for a day and a half, and Tally had been unconscious since daybreak.

Trapped inside the confines of the little hut, Aliven’d had to make do with what they had, and—he carefully wet the cloth again—he was running out of water.

Maybe these new people Tole was watching would be able to help. The Sept sent men out on patrols, soldiers who might know how to deal with the beast.

“Who is out there?” he asked his son.

“A dark man with a little grey in his hair, tall like Daneel. He’s limping pretty badly. They’ve a horse—it’s spotted like a cow, Da. There are two other men with him, younger. They look like they’re all close kin. Can they help us?” Tole looked up with hope in his eyes; Aliven hadn’t told either of his children about the two dead farmers.

He left his wife’s side and put his own eye against the gap between boards for a minute. Tole, for all that he’d not seen a dozen summers, was sharp-eyed. The older man and one of the young men looked as alike as any father and son he’d ever seen. The second young man shared some of the same features, but his hair was—

Aliven pulled his head away and spat. “Travelers,” he said.

“Travelers?” Nona, his youngest, looked up from tending Tally. “They’ll kill it for us!”

“You’ve been listening to your mother’s stories,” Aliven said, disappointment making his voice even gruffer than usual. “Travelers only help themselves—and they help themselves to everything they can.”

But he unbolted the door anyway and put his head out. He’d not see anyone, not even Travelers, killed if he could help it.

“Leave, Travelers!”

Tier looked up from where Lehr had discovered the marks of a struggle. Two men, he’d said, both of them dragged around behind the pottery.

“There’s your people,” Tier told Jes, spying a man peering out from a smallish hut on the far side of the cluster of buildings.

“We mean you no harm,” Tier said, limping toward the man. “My son tells me you’ve had some people killed by an animal.”

“Go away, Traveler,” said the man again. “There’s no gain to be had from this. I don’t want your deaths on my conscience.” His head retreated, and he pulled the door closed.

Lehr and Jes both followed Tier, flanking him. Lehr kept his eyes on the ground while Jes kept up a restless sweep of their surroundings.

“This place reeks of fear and blood,” said Jes. “Fear and blood and something wrong.”

Tier slanted a wary glance at his oldest son. “Stay back from the hut when we get there. This man sounds frightened enough. Your presence will only frighten him more.”

Jes met his gaze but didn’t say anything.

“It’s no use, Papa,” said Lehr, not looking up. “He’s not going to leave you when he thinks you might be in danger. Trying to make him stay back is just going to frustrate you.”

“I suppose I can’t keep you back either,” muttered Tier.

That brought Lehr’s face up as he flashed a quick smile. “Mother told us to watch over you, remember?” His gaze caught on a shed set just outside the huddle of buildings, and he took a sharp intake of breath. “That’s where it’s laired,” he said. “Over there in the well house. It’s left dozens of tracks back and forth. And Jes is right, I can smell the taint, too. Whatever this thing is—it’s shadow-tainted.”

Tier looked, but all he could see was a narrow path through knee-length, yellowed cheatgrass. “Can you tell what it is yet?”

Lehr shook his head. “Nothing I’ve tracked before.”

Tier paused a moment, frowning. He loosened his sword for a quick pull if he needed it. “Lehr, keep an eye on that well while I’m trying to talk. Your mother would never let us live it down if I got you killed.”

Lehr took his bow off his shoulder and strung it. “I’ll watch.”

Tier knocked on the door of the greying hut. “We’re here to help if we can,” he said, sliding as much Persuasion into his voice as he felt comfortable doing. He would force no man completely against his will. “Tell me what happened here.”