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recommend doing that again.”
    Malja sniffed the drink — ripe fruit. She tasted it — fermented, strong, and sweet. She was about to take a long sip, when she saw Tommy knock back his glass. Tommy gagged.
    Fawbry slapped him on the back. “Go slow, my boy. It takes experience before you can handle this kind of stuff like I do.”
    After Fawbry indulged in another drink, they settled into their seats — Fawbry flopped into his.
    The dish, Javery called it an autofly, increased its speed, and the roar of the winds made it difficult to talk. Hundreds of smaller autoflys dropped around them as the townspeople returned home. Malja’s leg bounced, itching to be up and moving around. She caught Javery noticing her impatience and forced her leg to still.
    When they reached the ground, she set her glass down. “I’m sorry about all the misunderstandings from earlier.”
    “Mistakes happened all around.” Javery fluttered his hand in the air as if the mistakes were blowing away. “It’s the past. What’s important is where we go from here.”
    “I agree. In fact, I think I know exactly where we need to go.”
    “Oh?”
    “You mentioned a person, Harskill. He’s someone we’ve been searching for.”
    There was no mistaking the coldness that overcame Javery. “What is it you want with him?”
    Fawbry swayed as he disembarked the autofly. “Don’t you worry about us. We’re no friends of that bastard.”
    “That’s good to hear,” Javery said. Malja opened her mouth to pursue the subject further, when Javery waved toward the town around them — but not before peeking at Malja.
    Is he judging my reactions?
    “Welcome to the town of Raxholden — named after my ancestors and one of the most prosperous towns in all of Carsite.” Javery beamed at the people resuming their daily lives. “These buildings, these people, their welfare is the entire purpose for my family.”
    The town looked paltry compared to some of the massive cities Malja had seen in her lifetime. Dirt roads and dirtier animals. No trees except for the tall brush on the perimeter of the town — the only shade came from the floating farms above. All the buildings were utilitarian — plain, tan walls, rectangular, with a bare minimum of windows. The only decoration was an etching over every door, similar to the proscenium statues. And single floors everywhere. Not one building that she could see had a second floor. However, the world she had come from, Corlin, had been wiped out by the Devastation — a time when magic killed off the majority of living things and mutated many of the survivors. The cities and towns she knew had been cobbled together from rubble. Here, at least, the people had built something fresh, however meager.
    Javery pointed toward one building. “Follow me, please.”
    Malja opened her mouth again, ready to press further about Harskill, when the ground rumbled. All the townspeople froze, and many looked toward Javery as if he, indeed, would save them simply because he was of the Raxholden family. For his part, Javery inched down to place his hand on the ground. Another rumble. Pebbles and dirt rolled.
    Javery shot up and cupped his mouth. “Wellspiker!”
    People rushed inside. Others sprinted towards their autoflys and soared into the air. Mothers shouted for their children. Fathers barked commands to anybody who would listen.
    Javery looked from Malja to the autofly and back. His lips disappeared as his face screwed up tight. “Damn,” he said, then pointed to the autofly. “I’m sorry. Our tour will have to be postponed. Quickly, now. We have to get in the air.”
    “What’s the problem?” Fawbry asked, his speech a bit slurred.
    Twenty feet away, the road erupted in a shower of dirt and rock. Malja heard a series of short, deep barks followed by an incessant rattle. She and Tommy stood still, watching a cloud of dust billow around the area of the explosion. Javery attempted to corral Malja and her friends into the