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all； but recognized now that Gaborn had used the power of his Voice to lull her to sleep； speaking softer and softer； in a singsong cadence。
Her father sat beside her； wide awake； reaching out to grasp at some imaginary thing。 He chuckled softly。
Catching butterflies。
Iome's face； hands； body all felt numb。 Her mind was waking； but not her limbs。 Gaborn helped her rise； unsteadily。 She wondered at how to best care for her father。 Raj Ahten has turned me into an old woman； filled with worries； and my father into a child； Iome thought。
Fiercely； she suddenly wished that her father could stay this way； could hold on to the innocence and wonder that he had now。 He'd always been a good man； but a worried one。 In a way； Raj Ahten had given her father a freedom he'd never known。
〃The horses have rested；〃 Gaborn said。 〃The roads are getting muddy； but we should make good time。〃
Iome nodded； recalled how she had kissed Gaborn a few hours ago； and suddenly her mind was awake； swimming once again； and all that had happened yesterday now seemed a dream。
Gaborn stood before her a moment； then grabbed her roughly； briefly kissed her lips； convincing her she recalled everything from this evening only too well。
She felt weak and weary； but they rode through the night； let the horses run； Binnesman had left them a spare mount from Raj Ahten's men； so they stopped to change horses every hour； letting each beast take a turn at rest。
They blew through villages like the wind； and as they rode； Iome had the most vivid memory of a dream she'd dreamt as she lay in Gaborn's arms： She'd dreamed she stood on the aerie tower north of the Dedicates' Keep in her father's castle； where the graaks would land when skyriders sometimes came in summer； bearing messages from the South。
In her dream； Raj Ahten's armies moved through the Dunnwood； shaking the trees； flameweavers clothed only in robes of living fire。 She could glimpse the armies only in flashesnomen with black hides creeping in the shadows under the trees； knights in saffron and crimson surcoats riding armored chargers through the wood。 And Raj Ahten stood； so proud and beautiful at the edge of the trees； gazing at her。
She'd been terrified in her dream； had watched her people； the peasants of Heredon； racing to the safety of the castle。 The hills to the north； east； and west were full of thempeasants in brown tunics and thick boots； hunched and running for cover。 Hefty women with babes in tow； men pushing wheelbarrows full of turnips。 Boys driving calves with sticks。 An old woman with sheaves of wheat tied to her back。 Young lovers with dreams of immortality in their eyes。
All of them raced； seeking cover。
But Iome knew the castle could not protect her people。 Its walls would never hold back Raj Ahten。
So she pursed her lips and blew with all her might； blew to the west； then to the east； then to the south。 Her breath came out smelling of lavender； and it purpled the air。 Every person it touched； everyone she breathed upon in all the kingdom； turned to white thistledown； white thistledown that bobbed and swirled in every small eddy of wind； then suddenly caught in a great gust and went floating high and away over the oaks and birches and alders of the Dunnwood。
Last of all； Iome breathed on herself and upon Gaborn； who stood beside her； so they too turned to thistledown and went flying high over the Dunnwood； gazing down at the autumn leaves； all golden and flame and earthy brown。
She watched as Raj Ahten's armies burst from under the trees with a shout； soldiers waving battle…axes and spears toward her castle。 No one stood to oppose them。
Desolation。 Raj Ahten might have hoped to win something； but all he would inherit would be desolation。
As her horse carried Iome south through the night； she felt as if she flew； leaving the world behind。 Until just after midnight； when a sudden dizziness swept over her； and she looked up to see her father； too； weaving in his saddle。 Grief struck her as she recognized what was happening。
At Castle Sylvarresta； someoneBorenson； she suspectedhad begun to slaughter her Dedicates。
Chapter 32
A HIGH PRICE FOR HOSPITALITY
The army of Raj Ahten came to Hayworth after midnight； as King Orden had said it would。
The innkeeper Stevedore Hark woke in his cot beside his wife to the sound of hoofbeats on the far side of the river。 It was an odd trick of sound that let one hear them so clearly here on the promontory above the water。 The stone cliffs on the hillside above the road caught the sounds of hoof…beats； sent them echoing down over the flood。
Stevedore Hark had taught himself years ago to wake at the sound of such hoofbeats； for more often than not； if a man was riding abroad at night； it meant Hark would have to find the traveler a bed。
His inn was small； with but two rooms； so often his guests were obliged to sleep four or five on a straw mat。 A stranger ing in the middle of the night meant that Hark might have guests to waken and placate； as he stuffed a new customer in their bedall kinds of such worries。
So when he heard hoofbeats； Stevedore Hark lay abed trying to count the number of riders。 A thousand； two？ his sleepy mind wondered。 Which bed shall I put them in？
Then he recalled that the bridge was out； and that he'd promised King Orden to send these men south to Boar's Ford。
He jumped up； still in his bedclothes； and struggled quickly to pull on some socks； for it grew cold here at night； so near the mountains。 Then he rushed from his inn； looked out over the river。 He'd left a lantern posted under the eaves of his roof； just for this moment； but he did not need his own light。
The soldiers stood there； across the river。 Knights in full armor； the four lead men carrying guttering torches to light their road。 Torchlight reflected off brass shields； and off water。 The sight of the warriors frightened himthe white wings engraved on the helms of the Invincibles； the crimson wolves on their surcoats。 Mastiffs and giants and darker things could be seen； too。
〃Hail； friends； what do you want？〃 Hark called。 〃The bridge is out。 You cannot pass。 The closest place is upstream； at the Boar's Ford。 Twenty miles！ Follow the trail。〃
He nodded encouragingly； pointing the way。 A little…used trail led up…river to the ford。 The night air smelled heavy…laden of rain； and the wind swirled about Hark's head； carrying the scent of pine。 The dark waters of the river lapped softly at their banks。
The soldiers studied him quietly。 Tired； it seemed。 Or perhaps they did not speak his tongue。 Stevedore Hark knew a few words of Muyyatinish。
〃Chota。 Chota！〃 he shouted； pointing toward the ford。
Among the horsemen； a shadowy figure suddenly pushed its way forward。 A small dark man with glittering eyes； and no hair。 He gazed across the river toward Hark and smiled broadly； as if sharing a private joke。
He shrugged off his robe and stood naked。 For one brief moment； his eyes seemed to glow； then a blue flame licked the side of his face； rising into the night。
〃The darkness of a deceptionI can see it in you！〃 the small man cried。
He raised a fist； and the blue flame shot along his