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instead of Dunnel. But when I looked to the village head, he
simply nodded for me to go handle it.
    I almost wished he were less willing to accept my help. I
was dizzy from lack of sleep and my shoulders heavy under the weight of
exhaustion. But I followed the villager, who was full of questions about
forming a search party to go after the missing villagers.
    We hadn’t gone a dozen paces when Dunnel called after me,
“By the way, stranger, you’ve never given anyone your name.”
    “Ilan,” I answered over my shoulder but couldn’t be sure
whether he heard.
     
    * 
 *   *
     
    I spent the next two days helping with the reconstruction of
the village and joining the shifts of able bodied men and women caring for the
large number of wounded still too weak to be moved from the meeting hall to
their homes. I’d spent enough years at Javen’s elbow to have experience
changing dressings and mixing herbal concoctions to fight away infections. I
felt ridiculously ill-suited to such gentle tasks, but none of the injured died
under my care, so maybe I didn’t do so badly.
    I also spent time quietly consulting with Dunnel on the
organization of the watches and the search parties sent out to comb the near
parts of the woods for the missing villagers. I even used my magic to reach out
for the missing villagers but caught no sense of them. I hadn’t really expected
to. The mysterious invaders’ attack had been well planned, so something told me
they wouldn’t have been clumsy in their retreat. I was unsurprised when we
discovered on the first day that their tracks led only a short distance into
the woods before vanishing without a trace.
    At the sight of their disappearance, we made an interesting
discovery: a broad circle etched deep into the dirt, wide as a barn, with
foreign looking runes and symbols lining the edges. The footprints of our
enemies led straight to this circle, where they disappeared. The scene was
enough to unsettle the villagers and started them muttering about ancient
superstitions and forest phantoms.
    But I could sense what the rest could not. My magic told me
something had been done here, something that had nothing to do with ghosts or
disappearing spells. I closed my eyes and could all but taste the fading
resonance of the Natural magic, thin and diluted like wood-smoke carried on a
distant wind. I could trace its trail, and it led to the circle, where it
vanished as if a thick door had been suddenly slammed into place, blocking me
out.
    I briefly battered at the door with my magic but met with no
success. I sent seeking tendrils tracing around it, searching for any tiny
crack, any way through the barrier, but I found none. There was no way in. I
knew then that we had lost the missing villagers for good, and also lost any
chance of following our mysterious enemy back to its lair.
    The search was given up soon after.
    The following afternoon, the Praetor’s Fists rode into the
village. I scarcely waited for the dust of their horses to settle before
bidding Dunnel farewell and slipping quietly away.  I was no longer needed
here, and it would be foolish to risk staying.
    The village head seemed to have been expecting my departure.
Perhaps he suspected more of the truth about me then he let on. And so, when I
left, it was with a full traveler’s sack slung alongside the bow across my
back. The villagers had been generous in their gratitude, and I had enough food
and old clothing stuffed into the sack to see me through a year.
    It was a relief to put my back to the little village. As
much as I sympathized with the plight of the Hammond’s Bend folk, I was glad to
leave the mysterious business of the unknown attackers to the Praetor’s men and
turn my mind back to more personal plans.

 
    Chapter
Five
     
    Rideon could be a hard man to locate when he didn’t care to
be found. With the Praetor’s recently heightened presence in Dimming, it made
sense for the outlaws to take to hiding now. I found