guess. We lived in a tower.” The boy paused for breath.
“Near the River Highreach?” Flinn asked. When the boy nodded, Flinn went on, “I think I saw the tower about a year back when I ran trap lines north. A three-story tower? Red granite?”
The boy nodded again. Jo looked at Flinn questioningly.
The warrior gestured with his hand, his eyes troubled. “Almost half of the tower had been destroyed in some sort of explosion. It was obviously abandoned, so I went in and investigated, thinking I might move there. The damage was too great to fix, though. What’s more,” Flinn paused and his keen eyes turned to Dayin, “the place smacked of wizardry.” The boy’s face blanched, and then he hid in Jo’s arms. She gently pushed him away after only a moment’s comfort. “Was your father a wizard, Dayin?” she asked, her tone serious, though her face was kind.
The boy could only nod, then added slowly, “My father was Maloch Kine, a great and kind mage. I-I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. I was just starting to learn from him.”
Dayin flung his hands into the air and murmured a quick, unintelligible word. A burst of bright red light flashed above the table and was replaced almost immediately by an aromatic, though faintly acrid, smell of roses. There, on the table before the astonished Flinn and Jo, lay dozens of fresh red rose petals. They touched the fragile pieces delicately.
“Dayin, did you do this?” Jo asked. She sniffed the handful of petals she held and smiled.
The boy was despondent. “It didn’t work, Jo. You were supposed to get whole roses-not just petals.” Dayin looked from Flinn to Jo and shrugged his narrow shoulders. “I guess I’m out of practice.”
Flinn laughed and clapped the boy’s back. “Are you interested in coming with us to Bywater, Dayin, when Jo and I leave for the castle? There’s a mage there who’s been looking for an apprentice for some time now. But all the children in Bywater are too stupid to even be considered. What do you say?”
Dayin looked from Jo to Flinn and back again, his eyes wide with fear. The boy turned to the warrior. “I’d rather go with you, Master Flinn, all the way to the castle. There’s bound to be a wizard there who could use me.”
Flinn’s eyes darkened. “We’ll see, Dayin, we’ll see. I’m not sure I want to be responsible for you that long.” He noticed Jo’s disapproving gaze, and his mouth grew grim. Then he looked away; he couldn’t refuse Dayin, not with Jo championing the boy’s cause. “All right, Dayin. If you’d rather come to the castle, then do so.” He glanced at Jo and then turned to the boy. “But that’s the end of the tether for you. I have no need of a wizard apprentice-a would-be squire’s all I can handle.” Flinn smiled, then laughed aloud. “Maybe I should leave Dayin with Karleah Kunzay. She’s batty enough to take on a boy like you.”
To Flinn’s surprise, the boy’s face lit up. “Would you really take me to Karleah? Really?”
“You know the old wizardess?” Flinn asked, incredulous. The boy nodded. “She used to visit us a lot.”
“That’s… interesting,” Flinn said noncommittally. Jo looked at him sharply, a question knotting her brow.
“You said your father used fire on the abelaat crystals?” Flinn asked Dayin in the pause that followed.
“Yes, I think so,” Dayin responded. “At least, I remember him holding a stone in a flame and saying, ‘Ah, this is good.’ He always said that when he was excited. Why it was good, I don’t know.”
Flinn fished out the eight-sided crystal from the mug and stared at it, bemusement written on his face. “Let’s try holding it in the candle flame, then. Jo, hand me my gauntlets, will you?” Jo retrieved the gloves from the cupboard and silently handed them to the warrior, who put them on.
He held the stone lengthwise a finger’s width away from the flame and stared at it, waiting for something to happen. Silence fell. Their heartbeats marked the passage of time. Flinn, impatient at the delay, began to wonder if the boy had mixed up the abelaat stone with some other kind. Slowly the crystal warmed, and he could feel the heat even through his heavy leather and metal gloves.
Then something moved inside the crystal. Flinn hissed, and Jo crowded to his side, leaning over his shoulder. He focused minutely on the plane of the crystal facing him.
A shape was forming within the crystal. The lines around the shape slowly resolved, and the colors grew clearer. Vaguely Flinn realized he was pushing the crystal closer and closer to the open flame. That seemed to clarify the murkiness inside the crystal, though he wondered how long his gloves could protect him.
Flinn’s eyes adjusted to the minuteness of what he was viewing: a scene in exquisite miniature played inside the shell of the crystal. Flinn gasped. “This-this is astonishing,” he muttered aloud. The stone seemed almost Like a stage on which tiny actors could walk. Jo leaned on Flinn to get a better view, and Dayin crowded closer.
The scene within the stone sharpened into recognition. It was the conservatory at the Castle of the Three Suns. The colors were muted and the shapes of the walls and furnishings were distorted. Otherwise, the conservatory looked much like Flinn remembered it from seven years before. Is this a memory? A dream? A prophecy? he wondered. The arrangement of the plants and furnishings were slightly different than he remembered them. “It must be the garden room as it stands now, this very moment,” he murmured excitedly.
Sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling panels in the room and filtered past the leaves of exotic plants that had been transplanted there throughout the centuries. Some ancestor of old Baron Arturus’ had decided to make this room into a conservatory, and the room had been steadily added to and renovated until it had become the pride and glory of the castle. Even in the coldest winter this room retained its tropical heat, allowing the delicate plants and trees inside the chamber to thrive.
Several decades ago, a great mage had populated the conservatory with gold- and jewel-encrusted magical birds that flitted about and sang. They were wonderful to behold, and the old baron swelled their ranks with real birds-native and exotic. Arturus called the magical birds the gold of his crown and the living birds the jewels.
Flinn moved the crystal almost into the candle’s flame, and the scene focused more sharply. The intricately carved stone bench came into view as did the pond beside it, filled with brilliant-hued fish. Sunlight glinted off their purple and blue and scarlet backs as the fish occasionally surfaced. Flinn fancied for a moment that he even heard water splash and trickle.
From a door at the back of the scene, a woman entered the room. She walked slowly, her hand rubbing her pregnant midsection. Reaching the bench, she slowly sat down, her bulk making her movements less than graceful. She began crumbling bread into the pond, leaning toward where the fish frenziedly leaped to the surface. Her pale face, so perfectly composed in miniature, was blank and listless.
“Yvaughan,” Flinn whispered. Jo gasped.
The woman in the crystal looked up expectantly, as if she had heard something, and turned the way she had come. Then, very distinctly, Flinn heard a tiny voice say, “Is someone calling me?”
Yvaughan could hear him through the stone!
“Yvaughan! It’s me-Flinn!” the warrior cried.
The crystal popped and shattered, little pieces of it flying from between Flinn’s fingers and falling to the table. The warrior stood abruptly, his shocked expression tense. His eyes sought Jo’s.
“I-I saw my wife, Jo, in the crystal,” he said, his gauntleted hand trembling. “Or, rather, my former wife. She-she divorced me after… after… Did you see-”
“Flinn!” The girl grabbed his hands. “Calm yourself.” She nodded. “Yes, Dayin and I saw the image, too.”
Flinn’s moustache quivered. He nodded abruptly and squared his shoulders. He sat down again, one hand stroking his chin. “I don’t know what to do now, Jo. She seemed… unhappy. Should I try to see her through the crystal again?” Flinn looked aside. “She’s also with child.”
Jo and Dayin gazed intently at the warrior. “I take it… she’s remarried?” Jo asked.
“I assume so,” Flinn responded, still not looking her way. “I-we never had children.” Flinn found his thoughts skirting that particular hurt. He blinked, shaking the memory from his head. Taking a deep breath, he said, “Let’s test a different stone. The one we used was one of the abelaat’s, I believe.” He handed Jo the gauntlets and a six- sided crystal. “Here, Jo. This stone came from your blood, so you do the honors.”
Jo heated the stone as she had seen Flinn do. The former knight and the wildboy peered over her shoulders into the wine-red depths of the crystal. Flinn expected to see a continuation of the scene they had previously witnessed. But when the scene finally coalesced, it was not the conservatory they saw. Rather, they peered into a dim cavern, a cavern that twinkled with small lights. In the center of the cave lay a dragon, staring intently at his claws-a green dragon in perfect miniature. Flinn hissed, and Jo dropped the crystal, which fell to the table and bounced unharmed.
Jo’s eyes were wide with shock. “I’ve never seen a dragon before, even in miniature,” she said. “Was that
