Nonee turned toward Servan, physically dismissing Lyelee’s observation. Ryan bit back a grin at his cousin’s expression. “If it happens again . . .”

  “I’ll let you know.” Servan nodded.

  Lyelee took a step closer to Nonee and folded her arms. “Now that you’ve dealt with Guardian Servan-cee’s talking birds, either move out of my way so I can examine this rock or explain why I can’t.”

  “Why we can’t,” Gearing interjected.

  Ryan glanced back at the older scholar and saw he’d slipped out of his pack and had sagged against Destros. The big guardian caught his eye, raised a hand, and signaled an all clear. Ryan assumed the sign meant he shouldn’t worry about the old man having collapsed from heat stroke.

  Nonee shifted her weight from foot to foot. Again. Ryan dropped his hand to his sword hilt. The guardians had noticed her unease as well. Servan had an arrow on the string.

  “This wasn’t here,” she said. “And then it was. It’s never been seen before. It’s too . . .” She spread her arms as words failed her. “. . . too big to be this close to the line.”

  Even Ryan could tell that big wasn’t the word she’d wanted. “It’s here because of us. We’ve been noticed?”

  “Yes.”

  “We should destroy it, my lord.”

  When Ryan turned to look, Curtin’s hand was on his sword hilt. “Why?”

  “Why?” Curtin glared past him at the rock. “It’s mage-craft!”

  “We’re in the Broken Lands.” Lyelee rolled her eyes. “Mage-craft isn’t exactly an unexpected phenomenon. Here we have the sudden appearance of a rock that looks like it has a face. Nonee has a face that looks like it’s made of rock. Is there a connection? Is it Nonee the Broken Lands have noticed? Does it matter? The temperature is rising as we contemplate the possibilities, the sun draws moisture from our bodies, and had we not paused for a pointless discussion, I’d have finished my measurements by now.”

  Sweat rolled down Ryan’s back. Had the face grown more distinct?

  “We should have seen it from the edge of the meadow,” Curtin growled. “We didn’t. You didn’t, Scholar. Where did it come from?”

  “Mage-craft,” Lyelee said, mockingly.

  Nonee sighed. Her entire upper body rose and fell on the exhale. “People lived around the mages, people who came with them. People who came after them. People who were here before they arrived.”

  Lyelee circled the standing stone. “The Captain’s Chronicle states that the land was uninhabited when the mages arrived.”

  Ryan had no memory of that particular entry.

  Nonee shook her head but kept talking as though Lyelee hadn’t spoken. “They couldn’t all be saved. Some were too injured, some were too far away.”

  “Only five thousand of all the people in Gateway and the Mage Lands walked the Mage Road with the captain,” Gearing said softly.

  “Five thousand by the end,” Nonee corrected.

  Gearing waved that off. “No one knows the number of the dead, so we use the number of those who survived to reach the Great Lake. Five thousand and thirty-one to be exact, not counting Captain Marsan and you. The Five Thousand is symbolic convenience, not accuracy.”

  They all knew that, had been taught it as children, but Nonee knew the number of the dead. Ryan was as certain of that as he’d ever been about anything.

  She nodded toward the rock. “Some who remained were claimed by mage-craft.”

  “Wait.” Although Ryan spoke to Nonee, not to his cousin, Lyelee paused, the foot she’d raised settling back on the ground. “When you say claimed by mage-craft, are you saying that’s an actual face? That a mage took a person and stuffed them into a rock?”

  The features had become more distinct.

  Nonee studied the rock for a moment. “Might not have been deliberate.”

  That didn’t help. Ryan was inclined to think that from the point of view of the person in the rock there’d be no great difference between it happening accidentally or deliberately. “Do you know who they are?”

  “They’ve been dead for over a hundred and seventy years.” Lyelee wiped the sweat from her forehead with the palm of her hand. “The correct question would be, did you know who they were.”

  The eyes on the face in the rock didn’t move.

  Did they?

  Shadows shifted across the surface, defining brows, cheekbones, lips.

  The mouth was half open.

  Had it been open before?

  Ryan shook his head, unsure of what he denied. “It looks as though it’s trying to speak.”

  “As though they’re trying to speak.” Nonee’s voice held layers. “They’re not a thing.”

  Someone snorted. Ryan thought it was Curtin. Or he thought Curtin was the most likely to dismiss Nonee’s correction. A correction by a mage-crafted weapon who’d been a thing in Marsanport for over a hundred years. “They,” he repeated, for Nonee’s sake.

  It was a rock now.

  It had to be a rock now.

  A shadow rippled down the stone. Top to bottom. In bright sunlight. In a treeless meadow. Where had the shadow come from?

  Lyelee’s shadow fell across the face.

  It didn’t react, although Ryan half expected it to. “Lyelee, leave them be.”

  “Don’t you want to know why this is what appeared when the Broken Lands noticed us?”

  He did. “Do you have a way of finding that out?”

  “I won’t know that without a full examination of the rock.” She leaned in, close enough her breath had to be lapping against the stone. “Taking into account of what Nonee knows about the rock.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “I won’t know that until I finish.”

  He wanted to know, but . . . “We need to keep moving.”

  Lyelee half-turned to glare at him, opened her mouth, snapped it closed, and stepped back from the rock so quickly she stumbled, the weight of her pack driving her to one knee.

  The mouth on the face in the stone was closed. It had been open before. Ryan was sure it had been open before.

  “What did it say?” he demanded, holding out a hand to help her up.

  Eyes rolling, Lyelee pulled free of his grip the moment she was standing. “It’s a rock.”

  The sweat that ran in warm, wet lines down his neck and under his collar had little to do with the heat. “What did it . . .”

  “They,” Nonee growled.

  Ryan closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “What did they say?”

  Lyelee waved at gnats he couldn’t see. “It didn’t . . .”

  “What did they say, Novitiate?” Gearing stepped forward, staggered, and waved off Destros’s offered hand. “According to the only living being who’d know, this is a mage-crafted casualty of the Mage War.”

  Ryan was a little surprised the look Lyelee shot her mentor didn’t knock him back off his feet.

  “Free me.” Her lip curled. “The rock said, Free me.”

  They were still alive within the stone. Or they were the stone. But still alive. And had been for a hundred and seventy-six years. Ryan felt his stomach twist. He swallowed bile. And again. Behind him, someone spat, less successful at keeping their breakfast down. “Nonee, can we help?”

  “No.”

  Lyelee turned back toward the stone, one finger tapping against her lower lip, expression speculative. “If a record of the specific mage-craft remains, then it might be undone.”

  Nonee blinked. “Are you here for the fuel or to try and undo the damage of the Mage War?”

  “We haven’t time to do both.” Ryan was unable to look away in case the mouth opened again. How could they walk away and leave such horror to continue? “The flame can’t go out.”

  “Why not?” Head cocked, she added, “Do you worship the flame?”

  “I don’t . . .”

  “Your people.”

  “No. We don’t.”

  She shrugged. “You swear by it.”

  “No. No, we do not!”

  Keetin coughed out something close to a laugh. “We flaming well do, Ryan.”

  Ryan pivoted to face him. “It’s not the same kind of swearing.”

  “But it is swearing.” He raised his hand and flicked flame.

  “It’s not. We . . . we don’t . . . There isn’t . . .”

  “We may not have time to undo the damage of the Mage War,” Lyelee interrupted the protest Ryan couldn’t find the words for, “but I am a scholar, and given access to the mage’s records, I . . .”

  “We,” Gearing interjected.

  “. . . we can save this person.”

  “Which mage’s records?” When neither scholar answered immediately, Nonee added, “There were six of them. And their records were in languages you couldn’t understand.”

  “We’re scholars,” Lyelee began, came up against the perfectly blank expression on Nonee’s face, and stopped. “Fine. But you take the responsibility for leaving them here.”

  “Yes.”

  She waved a hand at the rock. “Like this.”

  The mouth had opened again.

  Ryan glared at his cousin. Her attention remained on the rock. The words were right, but the emotion behind them wasn’t sadness or anger or disgust, it was frustration at not getting what she wanted. He’d heard it often enough when they were young. “Leave it, Lyelee.”

  “Why? Because you . . .”

  “Captain!” Curtin’s call cut him off. “Ripple in the grass like the weapon told us to watch for. Moving this way fast.”

  “Go!” Nonee stomped her feet, and Ryan felt the impact through the soles of his boots. “Now!”

  Captain Yansav pulled her sword. “Servan! Take point!”

  “Taking point, Cap!” Servan ran past, light on her feet in spite of the pack.

  “Destros, Curtin, the scholars!”

  Both men snapped out, “Scholars, Captain!” as they began to move.

  Curtin fell in behind Gearing, who struggled to lift his pack. “Leave it, Scholar!” Gearing didn’t hesitate, he released the straps and began to run. Curtin scooped it up; even double laden, he had no trouble maintaining the scholar’s pace.

  Lyelee remained by the stone. Destros grabbed her by the pack and lifted pack and scholar both into the air, ignoring Lyelee’s protests. They weren’t moving fast, but they were moving.

  “My lord, run!”

  Ryan couldn’t see the ripple. “Captain, Nonee . . .”

  “If she needs help she’ll ask for it!”

  Nonee stomped again.

  Keetin pulled his sword and ran with it out.

  Ryan followed, sword sheathed.

  Servan waited, arrow on the string, at the edge of the meadow.

  In under the trees, Ryan slid out of his pack, tossed his helm on it, and went back for Gearing, dropping his shoulder and heaving him up over his back, barely breaking stride. From the color of Curtin’s face and the way he sucked air through his teeth, he was willing to bet the skinny old scholar was lighter than his pack. He’d probably stuffed it with books when no one was watching.

  “That,” Gearing snarled as Ryan set him on his feet, “was unnecessarily undignified.”

  “So’s dying.”

  “You don’t know . . .”

  The ground trembled under a triple stomp—BOOM BA BOOM!

  Ryan turned and stepped aside as Destros and Lyelee passed, her feet on the ground, but the big axeman taking the weight of the pack she still wore. Captain Yansav backed down the path of crushed grasses, sword in one hand, long dagger in the other.

  BOOM BA BOOM

  Nonee turned to the left.

  A flash of light rose up out of the grass.

  And kept rising.

  No. Not light. It had substance, although it was hard for Ryan to focus on it.

  He felt Keetin’s breath by his ear. “I flaming hate snakes.”

  That was a snake?

  BOOM BA BA BOOM

  How could the sound of bare feet against dry earth get louder?

  The beam of light . . . no, the snake swayed. Toward Nonee and back. In and out. The wedge-shaped head wore a blinding crown of reflected sunlight.

  “I’ve got a shot, Cap.”

  “Let the weapon deal with it, Servan.”

  BOOM BA BA BOOM

  The snake collapsed back into the grass.

  BOOM BA BOOM

  They were too far away and at the wrong angle to see it leave, but Ryan assumed Nonee had watched and waited until the ripple was a safe distance away before she turned and jogged toward them. “Crystal snake,” she said, as she reached the trees.

  “Actual crystal?” Lyelee demanded, pushing forward.

  “No.”

  “And it was more afraid of you than you were of it,” Keetin declared. “That’s what they always say about snakes,” he added when Nonee turned to face him. “That they’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”

  Nonee thought about it for a moment, then said, “No.”

  Ryan had no idea what she’d just denied. “You didn’t kill it.” When she merely blinked, he added, “Why didn’t you kill it?”

  “No need.”

  “It was a giant crystal snake,” Curtin snarled.

  “Yes.” She nodded at Servan’s bow. “Wouldn’t have worked.”

  “Good to know.” Servan slid the arrow back into her quiver. “Me, I’m glad you didn’t kill it. It was beautiful.”

  With Curtin muttering under his breath in the background, Nonee looked at the packs, at the panting scholars, and said, “We stop at the fixed point. This way.”

  Ryan frowned as he shrugged into his pack. The snake had been beautiful, but by leaving it alive Nonee had left open the chance they’d be attacked by it again. He didn’t want to sound like Curtin, but shouldn’t the lingering mage-craft they encountered be destroyed if possible? Regardless of what it looked like? And what about the rock? Did it mean anything more than that they’d been noticed? Was it a warning?

  Stupid. It was a person in a rock. Of course it was a warning.

  But that meant the Broken Lands . . . thought. Had a consciousness of some sort. On purpose or by accident? And did it matter?

  Of course it mattered.

  He just couldn’t see how.

  “You’re making the face again.” Keetin reached over and rapped on his helm.

  “What face?”

  “The one you wore the first week at the Citadel when you didn’t have a flaming clue what was going on and weighed every decision like it was life or death.” When he glared at Keetin, unimpressed, Keetin laughed. “I didn’t say it wasn’t apt, under the circumstances.”

  “You say too much,” the captain murmured as she passed them.

  Ryan resisted Keetin’s laughter as long as he could, but ended up laughing with him. Even Lyelee snickered, although, given Lyelee, she was probably laughing at, not with.

  The fixed point wasn’t far from the edge of the meadow. The tallest tree in an evergreen forest of giants, it had deeply grooved bark, drooping branches that began far above his head, and needles nearly as long as his forearm. Ryan estimated it would take three or four Nonees linked hand to hand to circle it. Trees didn’t grow that big naturally.

  Nonee patted the trunk like it was an old friend. For all he knew, it might have been. “You should be safe here for a short time.”

  “While you do what?” Lyelee demanded, dropping her pack.

  “Find the second fixed point.” Nonee lifted her head. “There was a river.”

  Ryan couldn’t hear moving water. Her nostrils flared; he sniffed as well. He couldn’t smell it either. “The river’s a fixed point?”

  “No. The cave behind the waterfall is a fixed point.”

  Trapped between the forest and the waterfall had been how the Lord Protector referred to it in the Heir’s Chronicle. Ryan felt a chill run down the center of his back, although it was nearly as hot under the trees as it had been in the meadow. “Wouldn’t it be faster if we all searched?”

  “No.” The captain and Nonee answered together and exchanged a look that made Ryan feel nine instead of nearly twenty.

  “Stay close to the tree.” Nonee waved a hand at the high branches, the lack of underbrush, and the thick layer of dead needles that gave the immediate area a parklike setting. “The lines of sight are good, nothing should be able to sneak up on you, but be careful.”

  “Of what?” the captain asked. “Specifically.”

  “Specifically,” Nonee repeated, “everything.”

  Captain Yansav crossed her arms. “What happens if we’re attacked while you’re gone?”

  She shrugged. “You fight.”

  “We fight,” the captain repeated after a long moment. She turned to give orders to the guardians as Nonee disappeared behind the biggest tree.

  * * *

  “Anything following?”

  Arrow on the string, standing sideways to the grassland, the bulk of her body tucked into the shadow of a tree, Servan kept her eyes on the meadow. “Not that I can see, my lord.”

  Ryan could see the line of crushed and broken grasses their boots had left and, in the distance, the pale gray of the stone painted with golden highlights by the brilliant afternoon sun. “What can you see?” Servan’s ability to see farther than the rest of them had been proven multiple times on the road.

  “The face is on this side of the stone now.”

  She sounded as though she were commenting on the view from the Citadel wall. The market is very crowded today. The bakery has a new striped awning. The face is on this side of the stone now. Ryan could see the stone, but not the face. His vision was nowhere near as good as Servan’s. He was fine with that. He swallowed, and then again. “You’re taking it well,” he managed at last. “Not just this, but . . . all of this.”