“Maybe we could help smuggle him to Sitia.”

“I don’t think he would want to come.”

“Why not?” The idea shocked Leif.

“I’ll explain later.” I didn’t have the energy to educate Leif about the Commander’s politics. Raised in Sitia, Leif believed Ixia equaled a horrible place to live. That with Ixia’s strict Code of Behavior, uniform requirement and having to obtain permits to marry or move to another house, the citizens had to be extremely unhappy. Ixia wasn’t perfect, but there were benefits to living there. For me, Valek was one.

I missed seeing him every day, missed discussing poisons and fighting tactics and missed having a soul mate who knew what I needed before I did. I sighed.

Better to have an immunity to magic like Valek than to be this feared Soulfinder. A Soulfinder, and completely useless against a Fire Warper.

The Commander’s views on magic didn’t seem so extreme now. Magic was messy. And what the Vermin had done to increase their powers remained more horrible than anything I had witnessed in Ixia.

“Leif, what about that Fire Warper?” I asked. Since the incident in the jungle, I hadn’t had time to discuss it with him. “Have you seen a magician step from a fire before?”

“No. Roze Featherstone can make huge fires that’ll consume whole buildings, but she’ll burn if she gets too close to one. Since you’ve come home, I’ve been seeing all types of strange magic. You bring out the best and the worst in people,” Leif tried to joke.

I failed to be amused. “The Vermin are using old magical rituals. Do you know anything about them?”

“The Sandseed Story Weavers’ powers are legendary. They used to be called Efe Warriors. I had thought the stories of these Warriors were exaggerated.” Leif paused for a moment. “Until now. Two thousand years ago, well before the Sitian clans united, the Efe Tribe dominated the others. Using blood magic, the Efes had no rivals. The other clans would give them whatever they wanted. Food, gold or sacrifices, hoping to placate them. A disagreement erupted between the Efe rulers and a civil war started. The ensuing battle flattened the Daviian Mountains .”

“Mountains?”

“Now a plateau.”

“Oh my.”

“Right. After that a new leader named Guyan took control of the tribe’s survivors. He declared he would plant the seeds for a new tribe in the sands that fell when the mountains were destroyed. That’s how they got the name Sandseed and their magicians were then called Story Weavers.”

The rumble of hooves interrupted Leif’s tale. Kiki’s face was a welcome sight, although her blue eyes looked tired and mud covered her copper-colored coat. Garnet and Rusalka hadn’t fared any better.

Leif and I fed and watered the horses. I wanted to groom them and let them rest, but Leif insisted we get to the market first.

“Too many predators at night,” Leif said. “The horses will attract every tree leopard in the jungle.”

Market not far, Kiki said. Jungle smells…odd.

We mounted and galloped toward the market. Being with us, the horses didn’t have to hide and we groomed them near the Zaltana campfire behind the market buildings as the sun began to set. Many clans had built permanent sites for their members to stay while trading or purchasing goods.

The Illiais Market did not close until late into the evening hours. An array of torches was lit to allow business to continue, although the commotion of customers bidding, arguing and shopping quieted in the evenings.

After the horses were settled, I strolled quickly through the collection of bamboo buildings topped with thatched roofs. Most of the owners had the bamboo shade walls down to block the cold night breeze. When I had been here before, it had been the beginning of the hot season, and the shades had been rolled up to help cool the workers.

Scanning the people at the market, I searched for Moon Man. I stopped a few customers and asked if anyone had seen my friends. One stand owner recalled spotting some men running through the market a few days ago, but he couldn’t describe them.

My imagination kicked in and visions of Moon Man, Tauno and Marrok staked to the ground for the Kirakawa ritual filled my mind. Hidden behind a null shield, I wouldn’t be able to find them, and every minute we delayed was another minute for Cahil and Ferde.

Focusing on the task at hand, I breathed in the market’s smells to ease the tightness in my chest. The exotic spices offered by the Greenblade Clan mixed with the smell of roasting meat. My stomach growled with hunger. Before I could stop to eat, I delivered the package of clothes to Fern. The small woman huffed with relief.

“I thought Nutty wouldn’t have them done in time,” she exclaimed from behind a table piled with bolts of cloth.

“I thought you sold fabric,” I said.

“I’m expanding my business. Nutty’s getting quite the reputation.”

“Is that good or bad?” I asked.

“Both. A few of the Greenblade women have gotten tired of their plain green tunics and leggings and wanted a more colorful wardrobe. They’ve been buying every single one of Nutty’s shirts, dresses and skirt/pants. I supply the cloth and we split the profits. However, the clan elders are not too happy about the break with tradition.”

As a forest-dwelling clan, the Greenblades usually wore the colors of the forest. I glanced around and, sure enough, spotted a few women wearing Nutty’s bright cotton creations. I had assumed they were Zaltanas, but upon closer examination, I could see the lighter maple coloring of the Greenblade’s skin.