Agny looked surprised. “But surely, Sister, the connection will be strongest around Yaraella. That is the place the spirits will gather.”
“It may,” Sree allowed. She hated to speak of this in front of Elina, but Agny’s sharp eyes looked expectantly to her for an answer. “But we already have a strong center for this joining”-she hoped Agny would take her meaning without her having to frighten Elina by referring to her as a pawn in a ritual-“and to add the sacred ground of Yaraella’s spirit to this. I fear the power might be too much for some of us.”
“Very well,” Agny said. “I defer to your judgment in this, Sister. Lead on.”
Sree breathed a silent sigh of relief. Carrying Elina, she led the witches down the lakeshore to a small dock. Moored to one of the pilings was a boat, the bow carved with symbols of mountain peaks and flames. It was an odd grouping, when seen in that light: fire, mountain, water. But just as the symbols also represented hearth and home to Sree, so, too, did the water represent home to Agny. She’d been born on this lake and rocked to her first sleep by the motion of a fisherman’s felucca. No matter how frigid the waters became in the deep winter, Agny would rather swim than walk; she would rather be on a boat than on land. Sree often thought the water spirits had helped bring Agny into the world that long-ago day on the ship. Now they claimed part of her soul.
Agny stepped onto the boat first, then Sree and the child. Reina untied the mooring rope, and the four of them settled down on wooden plank benches. Agny closed her eyes and touched her mask with both hands. The wind lifted her gray hair. Sree breathed in deeply and caught the scent of Agny’s magic surrounding the boat. It nudged the craft away from the dock and pushed it toward the middle of the lake.
The few other craft they encountered gave way immediately when the fishermen saw the two hathrans. They bowed their heads as the witches drifted silently past.
It was colder out here where there was nothing to stop the wind. Sree held Elina close so the child could share her body heat, but Elina did not shiver. She didn’t speak either. Her unnatural silence had always troubled Sree. What feelings might she be concealing?
She had not spoken about the incident with the sheep and the stillborn child. Sree knew there was some malignant force at work, a force strong enough to kill. If Elina knew what it was, she wasn’t telling, and her silence struck Sree with fear.
The boat stopped within sight of the shore. Agny’s power wrapped around the craft and sent up restless jets of water. A wet, frigid breeze blew in Sree’s face, but her mask shielded her from the worst of the cold. Behind her, Reina pulled her cloak close around herself and moved so that they were sitting in a loose circle with Elina in the center. Sree joined hands with Agny and Reina. Agny’s flesh was warm despite the frigid air-a measure of her great power and connection to the lake and its spirits.
Elina sat quietly within their circle, watching each of the witches. The ethran closed her eyes and dropped into a meditative state. The healer’s place was to support, not direct, the ritual. Sree understood that support would be her task as well. She was also a hathran, equal in the ranks of the wychlaran to Agny, but Agny had been born here, in Tinnir, on the same waters that were the village’s lifeblood. Sree had not lived here as long. She was a teacher; she went where her sisters needed her to help other potential witches embrace their powers.
Until her failure with Yaraella, Sree had considered herself a very good teacher.
Sree tried to put these thoughts from her mind. Self-doubt had no place here in this circle. They gathered now for Elina, and for the people of the village who looked to them for guidance and protection. For their sake, she must not waver.
Sree closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She felt Agny’s power rise up over the sides of the boat and envelop them. Suddenly she was warm, very warm. Her skin tingled with renewed vitality. She felt her cloak, her dress, and Elina’s small, cold hands gripping her skirt. Every sensation heightened, until Sree gasped with the force of it.
What was this experience? She could hear her heartbeat, long, slow thuds that moved the blood in hot strokes through her veins.
“We feel you, spirits.” Agny’s breath sounded as labored as Sree’s own. Reina gripped her hand and uttered a soft whimper. “We are one with you. Tell us your will. We ask you to speak to us on behalf of this child, who is in our hearts and minds. Look into her soul, and tell us why this evil force haunts her. Spirits, tell us why on behalf of her mother, Yaraella, who departed from us by her own hand. Will you protect Yaraella’s child? Will you show us the way to earn forgiveness for our sins?”
The vision broke over Sree in a rush. She heard Reina’s sharp cry, and Agny abruptly stopped speaking. Distantly, Sree became aware that Elina had crawled into her lap and held her tightly around the waist, but these details were secondary to what she was seeing in her inner reality.
Four figures-three men and a woman by their shapes-stood on a mountain. More than that Sree couldn’t make out. The vision came at the four from a wide, soaring angle, like a bird diving down to capture prey. Were they telthors? Or perhaps Sree and her sisters rode on the wings of the spirits to a place the telthors wanted them to see. Sree waited impatiently for the vision to resolve itself.
As they flew closer, Sree realized that her heartbeat, the surge in her blood intensified. She felt as if her veins were on fire. Was this an attack from the four? She saw them plainly now. They had the faces and forms of humans, but their skin was the color of ashes, and their eyes were flat black, with no whites or color visible. One of them was missing an eye, and they were all terribly scarred-their spirits as well as their flesh. Inky black shadows surrounded the four of them, though the biggest concentration seemed to center on a man with long, matted gray hair. He carried a spiked chain in his hand and guided the others.
Sree turned her gaze to the woman. She wanted to memorize all the faces before the vision soared past the four figures. Her skin and eyes were exactly like the others, but she had pale red hair and a skeletal slenderness that made Sree think she would break in a harsh wind. She seemed unafraid of the mountain, the howling wind, or the blowing snow that filled the air.
The mountain-Sree hadn’t realized it until now, but she knew the mountains in the vision. Of course she did. The symbols carved on her mask were imitations of those majestic peaks, the Sunrise Mountains.
They were close to Rashemen’s border. Surely, they could have nothing to do with Elina or the disturbances in the village. Yet why would the spirits show them this unless they were important? Unless they were a threat?
Sree started to shift her gaze to the other two men, when suddenly the woman turned and looked directly at her. Sree was so shocked, she almost pulled back and lost the connection to her sisters. She told herself it was just a coincidence-there was no way the woman could see them, not when the vision existed by the spirits’ will-but the way the woman’s piercing black eyes seemed to bore into Sree was deeply unsettling. Then, the woman raised her hand and made a shooing motion toward Sree.
“Go away,” she said. The rebuke, a tangible force, penetrated the worlds and rang fiercely in Sree’s ears. The hathran cried out in surprise and pain, and the vision dissolved into a black abyss into which she was falling, falling.…
Sree opened her eyes and found herself back on the boat. She stared at her sisters. Reina’s eyes were shocked, Elina had her face buried in Sree’s lap, and Agny … Sree couldn’t see the witch’s face behind her mask, but her eyes were cold. It was a frightening sight, and for a moment, Sree was afraid the hathran’s ire was aimed at her.
After a breath, Agny seemed to regain control of herself. She closed her eyes and opened them again. The boat began to move, angling back toward the dock. Agny breathed deeply before she spoke.
“Reina,” she said quietly, “once we’re on shore, I want you to speak to Slengolt and his fang. They’re to put on extra guards to secure our borders. Tell them what you saw in our vision. If these strangers come to Tinnir, they’re to be brought to me immediately.”
Reina nodded. Her large eyes were the only indication of her unease. Sree addressed Agny. “What does this mean, Sister? The spirits are rarely silent-”
“They were not silent,” Agny said. “The spirits showed us that these strangers are at the center of what’s happening in the village. Now we must find out how and why.”
“We don’t even know what sort of creatures we face,” Reina said. “Did you see their eyes?”
Agny looked at the young ethran. “I did, and I know what they are-the soulless ones. You saw the shadows clinging to them, Reina?”
The ethran shivered and nodded. “Shadows that looked alive.”
“They are shadar-kai, a race spawned from the empire of Netheril. I’ve seen them on the caravan trails,
