magic was a lure she could not resist. She wanted to better herself, and she knew that she needed help doing that.
She would be given her chance. If he still liked her well enough at the end of things, he would keep her on to serve him in whatever way he deemed best.
And if not, she would be left behind.
That was how life worked.
They flew on through the remainder of the day, continuing eastward toward the coast, speeding over increasingly rugged and barren terrain as farmland and inhabited country was left behind. There were no longer any towns or small settlements this far out. There was nothing much to sustain life this far into the badlands, and aside from small rodents and insects no evidence of life. Even the birds avoided this part of the Southland. Sparse grasses and scrub dotted the rocky countryside, but these were brownish and sunburned. Nothing green was in evidence; no water sparkled in the sun. It would be like this until they reached the coastal villages, which were still several hours farther on.
Arcannen’s passengers were sleeping, slumped against each other, the girl’s arm about the boy’s shoulders. It was a touching sight, but he did not respond emotionally. How they felt about each other was how he had told the girl they must, and she was working hard to make it happen. The boy would let her manipulate him; he wanted her badly enough that he could not help himself. He might question her motives—although Arcannen doubted it—but he would respond nevertheless. She would gain his confidence and help shape his thinking. In the end, it would be enough to place him firmly in Arcannen’s experienced hands.
He thought momentarily of the Druids, and especially of Paxon Leah and his sister. It was Paxon, back in Portlow, who had attempted to intercept the boy. He had known he would run across the Highlander sooner or later; there was a connection between them that made it inevitable. Perhaps it would be a while before it happened again, especially if Paxon had tried to save the female Druid by smashing his way into the cylinder that imprisoned her. He felt a momentary pang of regret that he hadn’t been able to stay around and watch it happen. It would have eased his unhappiness about driving Leofur farther away and losing Chrysallin Leah’s services.
By nightfall, their destination appeared ahead, misted and darkening, the last of the daylight fleeing west at their backs. Overhead, the moon and stars were visible in a clear, cloudless sky. He could smell the ocean—the vast waters of the Tiderace—wafting on the evening air, strong and familiar. He could just begin to hear the booming crash of the waves against the rocks.
The boy and Lariana were awake, peering ahead through the gathering haze. “Look ahead!” he shouted over the rush of the wind. “See the buildings?”
In truth, the buildings were toppled and crumbling, their walls blackened and their roofs mostly collapsed. Ruins awaited them, the devastation left by the men and women of the Red Slash.
“What is it?” Reyn called back.
Arcannen smiled and made a sweeping gesture. “Arbrox! Your new home!”
When they had landed and climbed from the Sprint, Reyn said to Arcannen, “This is our new home?”
Lariana, too, usually stoic and unruffled, was looking around doubtfully. “What is this place?”
Arcannen gave them a moment. They were standing at the perimeter of what had once been the fortress of the raider village. The walls were broken and collapsed from the attack of the Red Slash six weeks earlier. Charred and blackened stone marked the remains of the fires that had been set to burn out the inhabitants who were still in hiding after the Federation soldiers had killed the rest. Bodies picked down to bones by carrion birds and four-legged scavengers littered the landscape both inside and outside the shattered walls, dull pieces of white in the fading daylight.
“This way,” he ordered without explanation, moving toward a breach in the crumbling stone.
Inside, the collapsed buildings echoed with their footsteps in the deep silence as they picked their way through bones and debris. Nothing moved in the ruins, not even the birds that had fed on the dead after the carnage was complete. Arcannen remembered it all as if it were yesterday. He had never spoken of what happened here—not to anyone. Not until now. But today he would talk of it. These people had been his family—or the closest he had known in the