Pausing to rest in an alley, Rothen closed his eyes and drew up a little power to chase away his weariness.
He opened his eyes and considered the snow piled against the side of the buildings. The milder weather of the previous weeks was a distant memory now that the winter blizzards had reached Imardin. Checking that his robes were well covered by his cloak, he prepared to step out into the street.
He paused as a familiar buzzing began at the back of his head. Closing his eyes, he cursed under his breath as he realized how far away he was from the source. Shaking his head, he stepped out into the street.
— Dannyl?
— I heard her. She’s a few streets away from me now.
— Has she moved?
— Yes.
Rothen frowned. If she had fled, why was she still using her powers?
— Who else is near?
— We’re closer, Lord Kerrin called. She must be no more than a hundred paces from us.
— Sarle and I are about the same distance away, Lord Kiano sent.
— Move closer, Rothen told them. Don’t approach her alone.
Rothen crossed the street and hurried down an alley. An old beggar stared blindly as he passed.
— Rothen? Dannyl called. Look at this.
An image flashed into Rothen’s mind of a house clothed in orange flames, smoke billowing into the sky. A feeling of suspicion and dread came with the image.
— Do you think she’s ... ?
— We’d see something more dramatic than this, Rothen replied.
At the end of the alley, Rothen stepped into a wider street. He checked his stride as he saw the burning house. People were already gathering to watch, and as he drew closer he saw the occupants of the neighboring homes emerging, their arms laden with belongings.
A tall shadow detached itself from the darkness of another alley and approached him.
“She’ll be close,” Dannyl said. “If we ...”
They both stiffened as a stronger, shorter buzz hit their senses.
“Behind that building,” Rothen said, pointing.
Dannyl started forward. “I know this area. There’s an alley beside that house that meets with two others.”
They strode into the darkness between two buildings. Rothen checked his stride as he felt another sharp vibration a hundred paces to the left of the previous one.
“She’s moving fast,” Dannyl muttered, breaking into a jog.
Rothen hurried after. “Something’s not right,” he panted. “Silence for weeks, then this week every day—and why is she still using her powers?”
“Perhaps she can’t help it.”
“Then Akkarin was right.”
Rothen sent out a mental call.
— Kiano?
— She’s moving toward us.
— Kerrin?
— She crossed our path a moment ago, heading south.
— We have her surrounded, Rothen told them. Be careful. She may be losing control of her powers. Kiano and Sarle, move in slowly. Kerrin and Fergun, keep to her right. We’ll come in on her—
— I’ve found her, Fergun sent.
Rothen frowned. — Fergun, where are you?
There was a pause.
— She’s in the tunnels beneath me. I can see her through a grille in the wall.
— Stay there, Rothen ordered. Do not approach her alone.
A moment later Rothen felt another vibration, and then several more. He sensed the other magicians’ alarm and lengthened his stride.
— Fergun? What’s happening?
— She saw me.
— Don’t approach her! Rothen warned.
The buzz of magic stopped abruptly. Dannyl and Rothen exchanged a glance, then hurried on. Reaching a crossroads, they saw Fergun standing in one of the alleys, looking through a grille in a nearby wall.
“She’s gone,” he told them.
Dannyl hurried to the grille, opened it and looked inside the passage.
“What happened?” Rothen asked.
Fergun replied. “I was waiting for Kerrin to meet me when I heard noises through the grille.”
Dannyl rose to his feet. “So you went in by yourself and frightened her off.”
Fergun narrowed his eyes at the tall magician. “No. I remained here, as ordered.”
“Did she see you watching and become frightened?” Rothen asked. “Was that why she started using her powers?”
“Yes.” Fergun shrugged. “Until her friends knocked her out and ran.”
“You didn’t follow them?” Dannyl asked.
Fergun brows rose. “No. I stayed here, as ordered,” he repeated.
Dannyl muttered something under his breath and stalked back down the alley. As the other magicians arrived, Rothen walked forward to meet them. He explained what had happened, then sent them and Fergun back to the Guild.
He found Dannyl sitting on a doorstep, shaping a handful of snow into a ball.
“She’s losing control.”
“Yes,” Rothen agreed. “I’ll have to call off the search. A chase or a confrontation will probably undo the little control she has.”
“What can we do, now?”
Rothen looked at his friend pointedly. “Negotiate.”
The smell of smoke was heavy and rough in Cery’s lungs. He hurried along the passage, dodging half-seen shapes of other men travelling the Road. Coming to a stop outside a door, he paused to catch his breath.
The guard who opened the door nodded as he recognized Cery. Hurrying up the narrow wooden stairs beyond, Cery pushed open the trapdoor at the top and climbed into a dimly lit room.
He quickly took in the three bulky guards lurking in the shadows, the dark-skinned man standing at the window, and the figure lying asleep in a chair.
“What happened?”
Faren turned to regard him.
“We gave her a drug to put her to sleep. She was worried she would do more damage.”
Moving to the chair, Cery bent to examine Sonea’s face. A dark, swollen bruise marked her temple. Her skin was pale and her hair slick with sweat. Looking down, he saw that the hem of her sleeve was charred, and her hand was bandaged.
“The fire is spreading,” Faren observed.
Rising, Cery joined the Thief at the window. Three of the houses across the street were afire, flames making glowing eyes out of the windows and rising like wild orange hair where the roofs had once been. Smoke had begun to billow out of the windows of another house.
“She said she was dreaming—a nightmare,” Faren told him. “When she woke up there were fires in her room. Too many to put out. The more frightened she became, the more fires started.” Faren sighed. For a long time they remained silent, then Cery took a deep breath and turned to regard the Thief.
“What will you do now?”
To his surprise, Faren smiled. “Introduce her to the friend of an old acquaintance of ours.” He turned and pointed to one of the men lurking in the shadows. “Jarin, carry her.”
A large, muscular man moved out of the shadows and into the orange light cast by the fires. He bent to pick up Sonea, but as he grasped her shoulders her eyes fluttered open. Snatching his hands back, Jarin quickly backed away.
“Cery?” she murmured.
Cery hurried to her side. She blinked slowly, her eyes struggling to focus on him.
“Hello,” he said, smiling.
Her eyes closed again. “They didn’t follow, Cery. They let us go. Isn’t that strange?”
She opened her eyes again and her gaze shifted over her shoulder. “Faren?”
“You’re awake.” Faren observed. “You should have slept for at least another two hours.”
She yawned. “I don’t feel awake.”
Cery chuckled. “You don’t look real awake either. Go back to sleep. You need the rest. We’re going to take you somewhere safe.”