Nora stared at the house at the end of the lane. Or what was left of it. Only a blackened stone chimney remained among the burned timbers that clawed at the sky, the rest tumbled down in a heap of ashes that were even now blowing away in the cold wind. She had heard from her brother Jak, who had gone with the others to help fight the fire, that they had found Sheora’s burned body amid the fallen timbers. The attached barn had burned as well, along with their horse and cow. Only poor Galan had survived, because his mother had sent him into town. If Nora hadn’t brought him to her house after Caleb and the others attacked him, he would have died as well.

  Forcing herself to turn away from the ruin, Nora turned her mare and trotted smartly toward town. It was too hard to look at those reaching timbers, knowing what had happened there. No one had seen the fire start, but rumors were already flying. Sheora must have spilled fat in the hearthfire, or tipped over a lantern, or half a dozen other things that might have started the fire. Already she had heard the rumor that a curse had caused the fire.

  Nora didn’t know what to think. She had once set a haywain on fire while arguing with her brothers. Well, she hadn’t touched spark or brand to the straw, but she knew it had been her fault. It happened sometimes when she was angry or afraid. Not just the ordinary, everyday anger or fear, but when she got so mad she could barely see or when she feared for her life. Those were rare, fortunately. Still, she feared when any fire started in or around Ambermill, and there did seem to her to be more than there should have been, and that it was her doing.

  She didn’t know what she did in those moments when a fire started, but she certainly did something. She never talked about what she could do, not with anyone but Galan, who knew, but she could trust him. She lived in terror of being called a witch.

  Not that she was a witch. She couldn’t be. Witches were evil creatures that wielded Mana. Their very existence was forbidden. She was not a witch.

  Ambermill came into view amid the pines that lined the road. It had always seemed like such a quiet, safe place. Nothing bad ever happened here. Until now.

  The people going about their days in the village seemed quiet and subdued. No one was talking or jesting over fences as they might have on any other day. The fire was on every tongue. No one spoke of much else.

  Nora left Flax at the blacksmith’s shop. The mare was in need of a new set of shoes. She crossed the village green, skirts swishing, heading for the inn to see if Liddy had anything delectable cooking.

  Four riders were making their way up the southern road toward the village proper. They caught Nora’s attention at once. Their horses were fine, long-legged coursers, better than anyone in town owned. Matched blood bays. But it was the riders that caught Nora’s eye. They wore tailored, black-dyed riding leathers, longswords hanging from their hips. Their cloaks streamed blood red from their shoulders.

  Nora stopped in her tracks as the riders passed by. The gray-haired man who led the way turned his head to regard her.

  Then they were past, riding up the road.

  Movement from the porch of the inn caught her eye. Liddy stood in the doorway, waving her over. Nora picked up her skirts and hurried across the green. Galan peeked out from behind the innkeeper. By the time Nora reached the inn porch, the riders were out of sight. Liddy stared after them, a dark look on her face.

  “Go inside, dear,” she said. “Quickly now.” She herded Nora inside and set the bar on the door. Liddy never barred the door.

  “Who are those men?” Nora asked.

  “Seekers from the Scarlet Brotherhood,” Liddy said. “Galan, go to your room and shut the door. Don’t come out until I tell you. Nora…”

  “I’m going home,” Nora said at once. Home was safe. Her father and her brothers would protect her. She didn’t need protection, she told herself. Yes, those men were from the Scarlet Brotherhood and the Scarlet Brotherhood hunted witches, but she wasn’t a witch.

  Liddy regarded her strangely. “Go out through the kitchens, then. It might be best to avoid the roads if you can. Go quickly and stay out of sight.”

  Nora hugged Galan, whose eyes were red from crying, then headed for the kitchen door. For once, she did not pause to savor the scents of the bread baking in the oven or the roast turning slowly on a spit over the fire. She opened the door and peered into the stableyard and the garden beyond. It was empty, no sign of those men in red cloaks. The sky was overcast, threatening rain. Again. Across the green, the blacksmith’s red dog picked through the weeds, hunting mice. She needed to get to Flax.

  Fat raindrops began to spot the packed earth of the stableyard, a few here and there, then growing in intensity. The storm seemed to come on all at once.

  Nora stepped off the porch. The village green began to empty out as the villagers began to head for cover. These summer storms were becoming more and more frequent.

  A flash of red caught Nora’s eye as she reached the edge of the stableyard. She turned. A tall man stepped out of the general shop. The red cloak hung from his shoulders like a banner. His hair was brown, close-cropped above his ears. He looked vaguely familiar, though Nora couldn’t place him. His eyes swept over the green. Nora ducked back into the stable.

  The inside was dark and dusty, filled with bits of straw floating in the air. Half of the stalls were occupied. Down at the far end, Nora spied a big, black horse that she did not recognize. There was no sign of Jori, the stableboy Liddy paid to look after the horses.

  Nora slipped into the darkness of an open stall and peered out onto the green through a gap in the far wall’s boards. She watched the man stride across the green, ignoring the half dozen white geese that scattered out from under his feet as he crossed over to the front door of the inn. He tried the door, then finding it barred, rapped smartly with a gloved fist. After a moment, Liddy opened the door and allowed him inside.

  Nora sucked in her breath. Galan was in there. Those redcloaks wanted her, she was sure of it, but Liddy had been concerned for both of them.

  Another redcloak strode down the lane. He was older and gray-haired. She watched him take up a casual position outside the inn, leaning against a barrel on the covered porch. He was waiting for her, she knew. From there, he had a view of the entire village green. There was no way for her to get out of the stable without being seen.

  She wasn’t a witch! She knew that in her heart. She wasn’t a witch, so what did they want with her? Maybe if she crawled out of her hiding place, desuted the straw off her woolens, and walked over to that man to explain everything… but she really couldn’t explain what she actually did.

  Nora waited. She watched through the gap in the boards and waited. She heard Jori coming in and out of the stable, and had a moment of panic that he might look into the empty stall and see her. But he didn’t. The stall was dark, and Nora took care not to move much.

  The gray-haired man stayed. The sky grew darker and the rain pounded down. The road turned to mud. It was getting late. Finally, the inn’s door opened and Liddy showed the younger redcloak out. Nora watched him confide with his companion. Finally, they pulled up the hoods of their cloaks and strode away, out into the rain. They crossed the green, rounded the corner of the general shop, and vanished.

  Nora held her breath, counting the moments. Evening was falling and the shadows were deepening. All she had to do was cross the green to the smithy, hop on Flax, and ride home. Mother and Father would be worried. She half-expected to see one of her brothers coming to look for her. How foolish she would feel then, slinking hay-covered out of the stable to try to explain where she had been all day?

  There was no sign of the red cloaks. Nora took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. It was now or never. The longer she waited, the more chance there was that one or more of them might suddenly return. After all, if those Seekers intended to stay overnight in Ambermill, there was no other choice besides the Gilded Trumpet.

  Cautiously, Nora crept out of the stall. A horse snorted. She jumped, spinning. It was only Flint, a tall dark bay, glaring ill-tempered at her from his stall across the aisle. Her heart pounding, she silently chided herself for her foolishness. The rain still pounded down in the stableyard. She paused at the entryway and looked about. No red cloaks.

  Nora had to move fast. Her wool cloak had no good hood, it had been ripped badly while riding one day, caught on a branch, and rather than trying to sew up the ruin, Mother had simply trimmed off the ripped fabric and made it into a fair-weather cloak. Well, fair weather was a rarer and rarer thing these days. Nora glanced at the dark sky.

  The smithy lay just across the green. Flax waited, tied to a hitching rail under the eaves. Nora would run, untie her mare, swing onto her bareback, and ride for home. She took one more look about the green and started across.

  Wet footsteps behind her told Nora she had made a mistake. Her mind raced. The image of a burning cloak flashed into her mind. That would slow anyone down. Her heart was in her throat.

  A rough hand grabbed her.

  Burn!

  The next moment, she came up sputtering from the horses' water trough beneath the hitching rail. She wiped frigid water out of her eyes and sought out her assaulter. A shrouded man stood over her. Was that wet cloak red, or black?

  Nora started to rise, but a gloved hand shoved her back. “If you try to set me on fire again, I’ll hold you under until the bubbles stop.” The voice sounded hollow beneath the man’s hood. Nora fancied she could see yellow eyes gleaming out of the shadows.

  “I wasn’t trying to…”

  The man pulled Nora out of the trough. “No, you were just trying to set my cloak on fire, weren’t you? It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone who could conjure fire.”

  “I wasn’t trying to do anything,” Nora protested. She hadn’t been trying to conjure anything. She thought the man might be the ranger called Nightwolf. She didn’t see his wolf, though, nor feel it nearby. The ranger took her by the arm and dragged her toward the inn.

  “Let go of me!” Nora twisted in his grasp, but his fingers were like iron. Was that cloak red after all? He pulled her into the yard by the garden and up the steps to the inn’s kitchen door.

  The inside was warm and dry. Nora was glad for that as she stood dripping on the tile. A puddle was forming at her feet. Galan sat at the small table across from the hearth, eating a large piece of beef and mushroom pie. Liddy stood at his side. She had been speaking to him, but looked up when the ranger ushered Nora in.

  “Is this the right one?” the ranger asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” Liddy said. Only then did the ranger release his iron grip on Nora’s arm. “What took so long?”

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  “I searched half the bloody town, but she was hiding in your stable,” the ranger said.

  Galan’s eyes were red. He’d been crying again, Nora knew. “Why are you all wet?” he asked, looking at the puddle forming beneath her.

  Nora glanced at the ranger, who stood just behind her, still hooded and cloaked. She decided not to press him. “It’s raining outside.”

  “It must be a downpour,” Liddy said, giving the ranger a steady, knowing look.

  “What’s going on?” Nora asked.

  Liddy looked to the ranger. “Amon, will you keep a look out for us? I fear those Seekers will be back.”

  “Of course,” the ranger said. He went back out the kitchen door and into the rain.

  “What’s going on?” Nora asked again.

  “I’m so sorry, dear,” Liddy said. “I know this must be terribly confusing. I will explain what I can. Galan told me what you can do.”

  Nora fixed Galan with a glare. He had told? The elf boy had the grace to look ashamed. Fear settled in her stomach. She looked to Liddy. The woman knew her secret.

  “It’s alright, dear,” Liddy said. “You’ve done nothing wrong, and I did have to pry it out of him. He tried masterfully to keep your secret. Still, it is troublesome, and those four men who arrived today will not see it as I do. I will not lie to you. You and Galan are in danger here. I’m sending you both to safety.”

  Nora realized with a start that Galan was dressed for the road in brown woolen trousers and a tan tunic, brown leather boots and a green coat that looked two sizes too big for him. A green roguhspun cloak was folded over the back of the chair and a stuffed pack rested on the floor at his feet.

  “Where are we going?” Nora asked. “Wait, I have to go home.”

  “I’ve already spoken to your mother, dear,” Liddy said. “So have the Seekers. They went out to your farm today. If you had made it home, they would have been waiting for you. I am sending you both with Amon. He’s the ranger you… met earlier. He’s going to take you both to Hardcoast. There will be a ship waiting to take you across to the mainland. He will keep you safe.” Liddy considered Nora again. “We must get you out of those wet clothes. Come along, I have something you can wear.”

  Nora followed Liddy from the kitchen and into her bedchamber. Liddy opened her wardrobe and began tossing clothes onto the narrow bed.

  “Quickly now,” Liddy said. “You’ll be leaving tonight. The riding leathers might be a bit big for you, but you’ll appreciate the room for layers. It will be cold on the road. The trousers, those will be better for riding.”

  Nora stripped off her soaked skirt and blouse and gratefully shrugged into the dry clothes. She hadn’t realized just how cold she was after her dunking. The trousers and tunic were tan, the coat blue. She settled a gray woolen cloak around her shoulders. Liddy handed her a full pack. Nora glanced at it askance. Had she planned this ahead of time?

  Liddy ushered her back into the kitchen, where Galan waited. “You both are going with Amon,” she reiterated. “He will keep you safe until you get to Hardcoast. He is a bit odd, but you can trust him. Listen to him and do what he says.”

  There was a knock at the kitchen door. Liddy went to it and eased it open a crack, then the rest of the way to allow the ranger Amon in. He had a quiver of arrow and an unstrung bow on his back. The rest of him was hidden by his cloak and cowl. His wolf stalked in at his heels. The silver-gray animal sniffed at the hem of Nora’s cloak, regarding her with liquid gold eyes, then plopped down in front of the hearth.

  “It’s time to go,” Amon said. “The Seekers are going door to door through town. They’ll be here shortly.”

  “In a moment,” Liddy said. “I want to make sure of…”

  Amon took her by the arm. “Not later, now. I don’t feel like killing four Seekers in your common room.”

  As if on cue, there was a loud pounding at the front door. A look of fear crossed Liddy’s face, but it was gone just as quickly. Wordlessly, she herded Galan and Nora toward the door. She handed Galan his pack and his cloak. “Go quickly and keep them safe,” she said to the ranger. She glanced toward the front door, where the pounding continued. “I’ll hold them off for as long as I can.”

  “Let’s go,” Amon said. His wolf rose as he opened the kitchen door. He peered out into the darkness before he ushered Nora and Galan out.

  The stableyard was dark but for a single lantern burning over the lintel of the kitchen door. Nora paused to let her eyes adjust.

  “Hurry up, girl!”

  Nora followed the rough voice toward the stable. The interior suddenly bloomed with a ruddy light. Amon hung a lantern from a hook. Three horses stood outside their stalls, saddled and bridled. One was the ranger’s black horse, one was Flax, and the third was Flint, who stood with ears pinned back and a back leg cocked to kick.

  Amon went to his horse. “Girl, that mare is yours? Good. Boy, take the bay.”

  “That’s Flint,” Galan said, staring at the horse that was meant for him.

  “Bastard tried to kick my head off when I saddled him,” Amon said. He led his black horse toward the entrance.

  “No one rides Flint,” Galan said, unmoving.

  Nora had gone to Flax and was checking her saddle girth, but she stopped and looked at Galan. His face was white even in the warm light of the lantern. “Master Ashlock only lends him out to people he doesn’t like,” she put in.

  Amon paused at the mouth of the stable. “Get on that horse, boy, or you can stay behind and take your chances with the Seekers. I could tell you stories of what they do to people they think have done wrong.”

  “I’ll ride Flint,” Nora said suddenly. “Galan, you take Flax. She likes you.”

  “Get on and hurry up!” the ranger growled.

  Nora handed Flax’s reins to Galan, who looked visibly relieved, and went to the dark bay. She tried to reach out to his mind, but she was met with a wall of resistance. There was only anger, frustration, and fear. Please, Flint, don’t try to kill me, Nora thought as she approached. As if in response, the horse laid his ears back and snapped at her. She tried to put on a brave face and reached for the lead rope. She didn’t know if she somehow got through, though the horse quieted and allowed her to lead him from the stable.

  Nora followed Galan and the ranger out into the stableyard. Flint danced sideways and swung his head around to bite her in the middle of her back when she put her foot in the stirrup. She yelped and jerked the reins tight to control Flint’s head and finally gained the saddle. The horse was so tense beneath her that it was sitting on a drawn bow.

  The kitchen door banged open, spilling orange light and three men out into the yard. The gray-haired man had his longsword in hand. Another had a crossbow.

  “Stop right there!” the gray-haired man ordered. His partner aimed the crossbow at Galan, who sat Flax’s saddle, hands tight on the reins but unmoving, frozen with fear. “Both of you, off those horses and no one will be hurt.” The three started down off the steps and into the yard.

  The ranger’s black horse burst from the shadows and bowled the men over. The crossbow clicked. The bolt quivered in the lintel of the stable where it had struck.

  “With me!” Amon shouted. “Ride, now!” Galan seemed to have recovered from his shock. He kicked Flax and started off as the ranger wheeled his black horse and set off at a gallop. Nora dared to touch her heels to Flint’s sides. The dark back exploded into a hard gallop in the tracks of the others.

  Nora nearly lost her seat in the takeoff. She grabbed handfuls of mane and hauled herself back upright. There was no controlling Flint. They quickly overtook Galan and Flax and were running hard on the ranger's heels.

  There was nothing to do but lean over Flint's neck and give him his head. She feared what would happen if she tried to rein him in. He might rear and fall or break into a bucking fit or worse. At least he was pointed in the right direction.

  The outskirts of Ambermill flashed by in a blur of candlelit windows and deep shadows. The rain had stopped, but a heavy mist hung in the air. Nora thought she caught the occasional glimpse of a person silhouetted in a window here and there, looking out at what the racket was. One goodman out late challenged them from his porch, but his words turned to wind in Nora's ears and they were past before he had the words halfway out anyways. Barking dogs marked their course.

  Nora could barely make out the dark shapes of Amon and Galan on their horses. The ranger was in the lead, Flax flagging behind. She was not a swift mare, but she was steady and tireless.

  Some miles outside of Ambermill, Amon reined up. Nora and Flint blew straight past him down the road, startling the black horse. They went some yards down the road before Nora got the dark bay under control. She sheepishly got him turned around and urged him back to the other horses. In the black of night, with fog and clouds blanketing the sky, she could scarcely see her hand in front of her face. She could hear the other two, though.

  “Are you okay?” Galan asked. Nora heard him move Flax up beside her.

  “I am,” Nora said. “Are you?”

  “I’m okay,” Galan said. He sounded shaky.

  “Be quiet,” Amon hissed. “Girl, if you can’t control that animal…”

  “I’d like to see you ride Flint,” Nora snapped. Her nerves were frayed to breaking after that wild ride. Flint was still ready to explode at the slightest provocation despite the wild gallop. As the words left her, she wondered at the wisdom of yelling at a man who had threatened to drown her not two hours before.

  “Perhaps I will,” Amon said. Nora could feel his eyes on her, even if she couldn’t see him in the darkness. “Come along. We left a trail a blind man could follow. We leave the road here. Come quickly and quietly, and keep that bay horse in hand.”

  Nora could only see the barest outline of the ranger and his horse as he started away, like a shadow within a shadow. “Where are we going?” she demanded.

  “Be quiet,” Amon said. “Stick close and don’t get lost in the dark. Even I might not find you if you wander off.”

  Nora heard, and thought she saw, the ranger turn his horse off the road. Flint wanted to follow, so she let him, glad not to have to fight him. She heard Galan following behind on Flax. They were moving through a forest, judging by the branches scraping against cloak and pack, or a woodlot at least. That put them a good mile at least beyond the last farm.

  “Who are you?” Nora demanded to the ranger’s cloaked back. Amon ignored her. She raised her voice. Answer me!”

  “Be quiet, girl,” Amon growled.

  “My name is Nora, not Girl.”

  “Be quiet.”

  No!”

  Amon wheeled his horse around faster than Nora thought a horse could move. He seized Flint’s bridle and held the horse’s head at bay so it couldn’t bite him. “We have a long road ahead of us and enemies at our backs.” The ranger’s voice was low and dangerous. “Those men are Seekers from the Scarlet Brotherhood. What they want with you I don’t know, but you won’t like it if they catch you. I’m the only one standing between them and you, so you’d better quiet down and listen to me. Would you draw them down on us?”

  “No,” Nora said quietly.

  “Good,” Amon said, releasing Flint’s bridle. “Ride in silence, then. There will be time for questions later.”

  Nora glared at the ranger's back as they rode. How could they trust this man when he wouldn’t even show them his face? Galan sidled closer on Flax. She could hear him more than see him, just a dark shape against an even darker night.

  “What do you think those red cloaks want with us?” Galan asked in a hushed whisper.

  Nora thought she knew, at least for her, but she didn't dare speak it aloud, not where anyone might hear. “I don't know,” she whispered back.

  “What were they doing in Ambermill?”

  “I think that ranger knows more than he's telling us,” Nora whispered. “I bet he knows.”

  “Quiet!” The ranger's voice was an angry hiss that cut through the night. How had he heard them, when they were whispering so quietly that they had scarcely heard each other?

  Nora sullenly pulled her cloak tighter around herself to shield against the growing cold. Flint had finally settled, so she dared to ease her grip on the reins. Beside her, Galan put up his hood and hunched his shoulders. The ranger's wolf was out there somewhere, but Nora saw nothing as she scanned the woods on either side. She should have been exhausted, but her heart pounded in her ears. The deepening chill, the press of the dark forest all around, and the memory of men in red cloaks kept her alert.

  Amon led them on a trail that twisted and turned through the trees. After several hours, he called a halt. In the darkness, it took Nora a moment to realize that they were in a small clearing amid old marble ruins. The walls were mostly tumbled down, but here and there a section or corner still stood, and crumbling pillars loomed pale in the darkness. She wondered what this place had been. There were supposed to be ruins like this scattered across the island, relics from when Tol Morad had been a summer retreat for the old Istarion elvenkings. They had built palaces and gardens all over, but only ruins remained now, hundreds of years later. She hadn't known that any were so close to Ambermill. She glanced at Galan, who was staring at the marble ruins.

  “We stop here for the night,” Amon said. He bid them unsaddle their horses and rub them down.

  “Can we have a fire?” Galan asked.

  “No fire,” the ranger said. “The light can be seen in the dark. Get some sleep, we have a long road ahead.”

  There was nothing to do but find a sheltered spot amid the ruins. Nora and Galan hunkered down together, sharing their cloaks for warmth. The damp cold seeped up through the ground and chilled Nora to the bone. A heavy mist hung in the air. Not a single star shone overhead. She propped her pack behind her for a pillow, but it did little good. She doubted she would get any sleep. Beside her, Galan was shivering, his knees drawn up to his chest. Nora slid her arm around his shoulders. The soft sounds of the night seemed to creep closer. She couldn't see the ranger. He seemed to have vanished into the dark.

  Nora was more afraid than she wanted to admit. Those men, those Seekers, had come to Ambermill seeking after her, and maybe Galan as well, and what they would have done if they had caught them...She had heard stories of what went on in the Scarlet Tower, but she had never believed them.

  Galan was asleep, his head on her shoulder. Something rustled in the dark. The sound of padded paws on wet leaves grew louder. It was coming closer. Nora caught a faint scent, something akin to a wet dog. Her heart raced. Her breath caught. She had nothing, not even a walking stick, to defend herself. She could hear it sniffing and panting, this thing of the darkness.

  Nora made herself reach out in her mind toward it. If it was an animal, then perhaps she could reach it, whatever it was. For a bizarre moment, she saw herself and Galan, wrapped in their damp cloaks, through its eyes. Then she knew. It was the ranger's wolf, that was all. It was a wolf, but she got a feeling of calm friendliness from it, an amicability that gave her comfort. The wolf padded closer. It sniffed her cloak, licked her face, then flopped down at her side, its massive head resting on her legs. Nora stretched out a hand and scratched it behind the ears. The heavy tail thumped against the ground.