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markets brought in most of their pitiful income. Rowena’s distant ancestor, Jasmine, had been the gypsies’ first alchemist, over five hundred years ago, and her knowledge had been passed down through generations of Rowena’s family.
    Lost in thought, Balthazar drove on, his gaze lingering on the arid earth beside the road until a tiny splash of colour drew his attention. Cursing, he swung the wheel, the smooth tyres spitting up a cloud of sand as he pulled over to the shoulder of the dusty road. He emerged from the pick-up, his eyes searching the barren area until he spotted it. The heavy door creaked as it swung shut, and Jonas groaned, but Balthazar was already striding across the dirt, fixated on the splash of blue standing out against a sea of dry, cracked earth. He reached the spot and gazed down at the single cornflower, beautiful in its solitude. Bending his knees, he touched an intense blue petal, his excitement mounting.
    “What is it?” Rowena called from behind him and he moved aside so that she could see it. Her astonished intake of breath confirmed that she felt it too, that she sensed the significance. Cornflowers needed water daily to grow and it had not rained for weeks. This was no ordinary bloom – it was a sign - intended for Balthazar to find. 
    “Oh, Balthazar,” her hand flew to her chest as she walked slowly forward. Crouching beside him, she gazed at the simple flower as though it was the most magnificent thing she had ever seen and then she reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly.
    “We found it,” she murmured, tears welling in her eyes, “you were right.”
    “It’s just a flower,” Melchior announced when he joined them. Balthazar sensed Rowena’s hostility as her body went rigid beside him. Melchior was his friend, but he could be cruel, particularly to the gypsy women. He drank too much and alcohol fuelled his nastiness. Melchior had been on the receiving end of Rowena’s herbs more times than Balthazar could count, but he just never learned.
    “It’s a sign,” Balthazar corrected, still gazing at the cornflower in reverent wonder.
    “Does this mean we’re staying?” Jonas held his own excitement in check, not wanting to develop false hope. He tended to agree with Melchior on this one. He didn’t much like his father’s oldest friend, but it was, after all, just a flower - nothing to get so excited about. More importantly, if Balthazar believed that they had finally found the general location of the City he might be inclined to stay. Jonas was tired of driving aimlessly across country, never settling down in any one place, never meeting anyone his own age. The few friends he had made had been older than he was and they had all left the convoy as soon as they had come of age. Jonas was biding his time. In five years he’d be twenty-one and he would leave too. The thought of abandoning his father cut him deeply, but Jonas needed his own life.
    “We’re staying,” Balthazar confirmed. Rowena, who missed nothing, observed Jonas’s ill-disguised look of glee and her heart sank. Balthazar was living in denial. They were losing their son and he was too blinded by his passion to see it. She had tried to address it countless times, but Balthazar simply brushed her off, insisting that Jonas would come around. Balthazar was a good man, but he had become obsessive. He didn’t see what was happening around him. A part of her was grateful for that fact because it allowed her to do what she needed to do without his ever finding out, but Rowena only hoped that he would see the truth before it was too late; that he would finally put his family first, before his quest.

Chapter 6
     
     
     
    It took two days for Quinn to realise she wasn’t getting anywhere. She needed to visit Cliffdale. Despite what her father had said about the twins not being there, it was the only place she might find answers. At the very least she hoped that Piper might have information. Piper was a good