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parading around the pyre, lamp held high. The villagers crowded around him, fists raised, shouting with every offense Ferius announced.
    "For the sin of plague that slithered through our town, a venomous snake biting man, woman, and child, I decree this creature guilty." The crowd roared, and Ferius spoke louder. "For the rot that creeps across our gardens, for the drought that dries our farms, and for the pestilence of crows that eat our seeds, I decree this creature . . . guilty!"
    The villagers shook their fists, faces red as they shouted for blood. The Elorian stood watching the crowd, tied to the pyre, and finally Torin saw emotion in those oversized eyes.
    He saw fear.
    Ferius leaped about as if possessed. He was a short man, shorter than Torin, but in his fervor he seemed even larger than the lumbering Hem.
    "And for the murder of Yana," the monk cried, "I find this creature guilty. Guilty!"
    "Burn him!" shouted the crowd.
    Ferius raised his lamp and smiled thinly. "As a monk of the Sailith Order, I condemn this Elorian to—"
    Torin had heard enough. He stomped forward and drew his sword.
    "Ferius!" he shouted. "Enough of this farce."
    The monk froze and turned to face him, his thin smile stretching. Torin stood before the robed man, blade raised. His heart pounded. His knees trembled. He had often clashed with Ferius, but he'd never stood up to him like this, sword in hand.
    "And thus Torin the Gardener steps forth," said the monk. "He who grows green things pities the dweller of barren lands. How amusing." Ferius returned his eyes to the crowd. "It seems some among us love the bringer of death and pestilence."
    Torin shook with rage. He was tempted to grab Ferius and shake him. He forced himself to speak calmly.
    "Ferius, by what right do you judge this man? You do not govern this village—"
    " Man ?" Ferius said, eyebrows rising. "You call this creature a man ?"
    The crowed jeered.
    "You know what I mean," Torin said. "He might be an Elorian. He might be our enemy. But you don't know he's the Elorian who killed Yana."
    Ferius laughed. He spread his arms wide. "Behold the innocence of youth! Our young gardener believes himself a judge of our enemy. He believes in pitying the cruel. He believes in loving the demons." Ferius's voice rose to a hoarse cry. "But the Sailith Order knows no pity for evil. The Sailith Order will burn all those who seek to destroy us."
    Torin gritted his teeth. He stepped closer to Ferius, grabbed the man's robes, and leaned close. He hissed his words between clenched teeth.
    "Damn it, Ferius, do you want to start a war? If you kill this Elorian, his people will want vengeance. They will kill more of our people." He shook his head. "Let the poor creature crawl back into the darkness, and let this bloodshed end. Enough have died."
    Ferius stood very still and stared at Torin. His skin was sallow, and his eyes were blue beads, so far set they made Ferius look like a wooden doll. When Ferius licked his small teeth, his tongue looked like a fleshy worm emerging from a burrow.
    "Innocent child," Ferius said in a low voice, too low for the crowd to hear. "Still you don't see. Bloodshed is exactly what we need."
    Torin froze, staring into those pale eyes, and what he saw frightened him as much as all Eloria. He saw madness. He saw bloodlust. And Torin understood.
    Bailey was right. He craves chaos. Chaos gives him power.
    Torin needed to stop this. He wished Lord Kerof were strong enough to stand here with him, but if the elderly mayor couldn't loosen Ferius's grip on this village, Torin himself would have to. He turned toward the crowd, ready to expose Ferius as a warmonger, when a low voice spoke behind.
    The accent was thick. The voice sounded metallic, inhuman, the voice of another world, a sound like water in a deep well or rain upon stones. It spoke only one word, but it gave the word the gravity of an epic tale.
    "Friend."
    Torin turned to see the Elorian regarding him. The prisoner's