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stone cottages hidden deep in the forest, which now stood empty. The current population of the estate consisted only of the three apprentices, Quin’s parents, Shinobu’s father, a few farmhands to help with the cows and sheep, and now the two Dreads.
    Both Dreads were sitting outside their cottages, by the open fire pit. The Young Dread was dressed for battle, her whipsword and several knives arrayed along her waistband, her hair tied up inside a leather helmet. She was sharpening a long dagger with a whetstone by the light of the fire, her hands moving up the blade with steady, rhythmic precision. The orange firelight danced over her face, casting dark shadows around her eyes. Across from her, the Big Dread was putting oil to his own knife and chanting words to the young one, his voice as cold and hard as the blade in his hand. When he paused, the Young Dread would chant an answer.
    Neither moved as they spoke, but as John and Briac went by, both Dreads’ eyes followed them for a few moments. It sent a shiver up John’s back.
    They passed the third Dread cottage, empty and silent, and then they were away from the woods, walking across the meadow toward the dairy barn and stables. Even as he fought to keep his emotions in check, John felt a tingling of alarm. He knew now where they were headed. Briac’s hand once again found John’s neck, pushing him on.
    “Briac, I will take my oath. I must take my oath.”
    “There is no ‘must,’ John. There is only failure or success. You have failed.”
    Those three words hit him like a blow to the gut. Until he’d heard the word “failed,” he had held out hope that Briac would be fair, that he would keep his promises and finish John’s training.
    “I am the strongest apprentice,” he said quietly. “You know I am.”
    “That you are,” Briac agreed. “A strong fighter. Also a distracted fighter, an emotional fighter. Both deadly for a Seeker, to you and your companions.”
    They passed the stone stables, where John could hear the whickering of the horses, comfortable in their stalls. For a fleeting moment he imagined that Briac would take him in there and ask him for another show of his horsemanship. But they did not stop at the stables.
    They passed the dairy barn with its special stink, unpleasant and yet friendly somehow. Briac continued to walk, his hand now a force at John’s back. Their destination was a structure with a very different feel.
    Ahead of them lay the old barn. Half its roof had fallen in, but the back half of the building was still intact. From a window high up in the wall in the remaining half, a weak light spilled out into the dusk, a light tinged with metallic blue.
    John stopped. Briac’s hand pressed more firmly on his back. But John would not move.
    “I don’t want to go,” he said.
    “We are going.”
    “I’ve seen it.”
    “And you will see it again.”
    “No.” John hated the childish sound of his own voice, but Briac knew exactly how to make him feel helpless.
Whatever the circumstance, you must control it
. His mother had told him that. He must find a way to gain control again.
    Briac took his hand from John’s back and walked on ahead of him. “You may leave if you wish, but you will never learn what I have to say to you.”
    John stood there for a full minute, watching Briac grow fainter in the gathering darkness. He spent most of his days on the estate tryingto forget what was in that barn. But it was there, whether he avoided it or not. Still, his feet did not want to move forward. His whole body longed to turn around and run. Finally, he hurried to catch up just as Briac was unlocking the barn door.
    Inside, starlight came in through the collapsed half of the roof, providing just enough illumination for them to find their way. From the shadowy corners came the smells of old straw and wild weeds and rodents—smells he remembered from the last time he’d entered this place.
    On the other side of the barn, a modern