The Native Star - By M. K. Hobson Page 0,74

Latin. Then he sat in the center of the triangle, crossing his long legs and closing his eyes. He did not move, but sat still and silent, waiting. He looked as if he could sit there for a very long time. Emily wiggled, tried to get more comfortable.

“Mr. Stanton, can’t it be argued that you’re making it more likely that Dag will turn us over to Caul by believing he will?”

In the flickering light of one of the pine brands, she saw Stanton open one eye and look up at her.

“Now you’re just splitting hairs.” He closed his eyes again with a definitiveness that bespoke a resolve not to speak further. Apparently, however, holding his pedantic nature in check was too great a strain. He opened both eyes and looked up in her direction. “Credomancy is the conscious manipulation of the dynamic unfolding of reality through targeted and focused belief. It is a metaphysical system of great power. But it is not to be confused with trying to make unpleasant facts go away by believing them to be untrue. That’s simply a childish denial of reality.”

“And you think reality demands that Dag try to hand us over to Caul?” Emily bristled. “I don’t think that’s reality talking. I think that’s you thinking you know something about someone who you really don’t know anything about at all!”

“I hope you’re right,” Stanton said. He closed his eyes again, assumed an air of grave composure. “Now be quiet, Miss Edwards.”

Emily leaned back against the tree trunk. The more Stanton told her about credomancy the more questions she itched to ask. How exactly could a credomancer use belief to manipulate reality when reality itself was so subjective? When everyone saw the same things so differently? When Dag looked at her, he saw a hometown Witch, an old friend—and recently, a bewildering heartbreaker. When Stanton looked at her he saw … well, perhaps it was better not to imagine what Stanton saw. So which was the truth? Which was reality? Which belief would prevail?

Give me good old-fashioned magic anytime, she thought. I just have to know what plants to pick.

The sound of a train whistle came again, closer this time. Emily was starting to really worry that Dag wasn’t going to make it in time when the big man rode hell-for-leather into the clearing. He was atop one of the roans that had been hitched to the buckboard, and the poor animal shone from its extended effort.

Dag slid down from the saddle and looked at Stanton, still sitting in the middle of the triangle of pine branches. Dag looked around the clearing, breathing hard.

“Where’s Emily?”

“She’s safe.” Stanton rose to his feet. Dag approached the triangle and tried to step across the border of branches. He was rebuffed by a force that glittered faintly as he struck it. Confusion swept over his face. He tried again, sticking a hand toward the barrier, hitting it with his fist; he pulled his hand back, rubbing the knuckles.

“What the hell is this, Warlock? Where’s Emily?”

“I told you, she’s safe,” Stanton said. “Are you alone?”

“Of course I’m alone,” Dag said. “I gave Emily my word, honor bright.”

Stanton nodded. “All right.” He took a step back. “You may enter.”

Dag reached a tentative hand out toward the barrier, and this time there was no impediment. He stepped into the triangle, looking around.

“Did you bring the money?” Stanton asked curtly.

Dag pulled a purse of coins from his pocket. Stanton weighed it in his hand before tucking it away. Then he gestured toward the Morgans, which stood hitched under a tree a few feet away.

“You may take the horses and go,” Stanton said.

“Just like that?” Dag’s voice was high with outrage. “I wanted … goddamn it, I want to see Emily!”

“I’ve already made one mistake today,” Stanton said. “And as you pointed out, one is all I get.”

“She’s in no danger from me, or from Caul, for that matter,” Dag growled. “Caul’s gone.”

“What?”

“When I got back to Lost Pine, I found Caul and his men. Told them that there’d been trouble in New Bethel, that you were both still down there. They all tore off after you, Caul included. There’s no way he can get back here before the train comes. Emily’s safe.”

Stanton looked at him and said nothing. Fury kindled on Dag’s face.

“Damn you, Stanton … I want to see her!”

“I’m here, Dag,” Emily called down to him. She had heard the honesty in Dag’s voice. She knew in her bones that he

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