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can muster, she begins to tell him about the dream. While she speaks, he is considerate enough to step away from her, to pace slowly back and forth while he listens. It is as if he knows that the pressure of his gaze will only further unsettle her. Although Malora is the only one who is affected by his scents in this way, she knows Orion will believe her, just as he has believed all the other visions his scents have brought forth, as does Honus, who holds that her keen sense of smell is yet another overdeveloped survival mechanism. She finishes by saying, “I don’t know where Sky is, but wherever he is, he’s in pain and misery, and I know I must do everything I can to find him and help him.”
    When Malora is finished, Orion plants his hooves and frowns. “The fact that the wound you got climbing the wall of sticks has carried over into your waking life is significant,” he says.
    “How so?” she asks.
    “I don’t know exactly,” he says, “but it’s as if the two worlds—the dream world and the waking world—are beginning to overlap somehow.”
    “Then you agree with me that I must find Sky and rescue him,” she says.
    “Most definitely,” he says. “You must go to Kahiro.”
    “Why to Kahiro?” she asks, his suggestion striking her as odd.
    Orion hesitates. “There is this Dromadi crone in the marketplace …,” he begins. “Do you remember when I told you that I once had a dream about an encounter with one of the People?”
    Malora nods. She remembers everything he says. “A girl. You walked with her by a river and chatted. You told me it was a very satisfying dream.”
    “It was. But it wasn’t exactly a dream. It was a vision, much like the ones you get, except that it was brought on by a beverage brewed by this crone.”
    “Gaffey?” Malora guesses.
    Orion nods rapidly. “How did you know?” he asks.
    “Neal gave me a sip once and I had a most vivid vision … of Sky,” she says. And also of Lume, the silver-haired man with the burnished eyes—but of Lume she has made mention only to Zephele.
    “Well,” Orion goes on, “in my vision, this wasn’t just any human girl. This was you, Malora, years before I ever met you. Don’t ask me how, but the beverage reveals things. If anyone can helps us find out where Sky is, it is this crone and her brew.”
    Malora wonders why he hasn’t told her about his visionbefore. But that is not her concern right now. Sky is. “If that’s the case, there is no need to journey all the way to Kahiro. I can simply ask Neal Featherhoof to give me some gaffey from his zebra-skin flask.”
    “You’ll need Shrouk’s interpretation. Shrouk is the Dromadi crone who knows all and sees all. Besides, I believe Neal has run out of gaffey,” Orion says. “Just the other day, he mentioned to me that he was due for a trip to Kahiro to renew his supply. So you see, you must go to Kahiro.”
    She draws in a deep breath and lets it out. She has been in a rare state of panic brought on by the dream. Having a clear course of action brings her some measure of calm. “Very well. I will go to Kahiro. Neal will draw me a map. Or perhaps Honus has one.”
    Orion laughs softly. “We don’t need a map. I have been to Kahiro many times. It is a matter of following the Lower Neelah to the northern coast, where it empties out into the sea.”
    Malora nods. “Even better,” she says, and now she is the one who is pacing. “I will leave West to take care of the boys and girls. I will take Lightning and a few other horses with me and set out immediately.”
    “Not so fast, my friend,” Orion says. “By law, we must first request leave of the Apex.”
    “We?”
she says.
    Orion grins. “You didn’t think I’d let you go to Kahiro alone, did you? Who else would give you a proper introduction to the blind seer? I am one of Shrouk’s favorites.”
    “Of course you are.”
    “Let me douse the fire and clean up and I’ll accompanyyou to the Hall of Mirrors. We