“We’re being chased by a lurker.”

The woman squinted. “Yes, I have sensed one nearby. It has been years since Maldor deployed a torivor.”

“Can you help us?” Drake asked.

“You have brought a terrible threat my way. But that harm is already done. We shall see if I can help you. Remove your footwear.”

Drake took off his supple boots and Rachel squatted to untie hers. The woman slipped strings of dark beads accented with teeth over each of their heads, mumbling quiet phrases.

The charm woman stepped back and invited them into the tent. Barefoot, Rachel ducked through the doorway. Three large bearskins lay on the ground. Elaborate mobiles hung from the ceiling, displaying a variety of gently spinning ornaments and crystals. Simple dolls made of wood and yarn sat opposite the entry in a staggered row. Incense burned inside hollow statues, aromatic smoke filtering through tiny holes, the heady scent mingling with the earthy smells of ashes and old leather.

The charm woman crouched on a low stool and gestured for Drake and Rachel to sit on the bearskins. The thick fur felt soft.

“How long has this torivor been after you?” the woman asked, her eyes on Drake.

“Five weeks,” Drake said.

“Has it guided soldiers to you?”

“Yes, until I led Rachel far into the wilderness.”

“The torivor has remained with you?”

“I continue to see it. Not clearly or often, but consistently.”

The woman rubbed a coin with a hole in the center that hung from a cord around her neck. “When was the last time you saw it?”

“Last night,” Drake replied.

“Has it visited your dreams?”

“No.”

The charm woman turned to Rachel. “How about your dreams?”

“How would I know?”

“You would know.” Her attention shifted back to Drake. “Is it more interested in you or the girl?”

“Almost certainly the girl.”

“Why?”

Drake glanced uncomfortably at Rachel. “I’m not sure we should confess why, charm woman. It could place you in greater danger.”

The woman laughed, quick and loud. “I could not be in greater danger. The emperor has hunted me for years. You have brought a torivor to my threshold. Speak candidly. The more I know, the better I can help.”

“The girl is a Beyonder,” Drake said. “She knows all of the syllables of a word that can unmake Maldor.”

The woman regarded Rachel with new interest. “I know of this word. You have all of it?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. “So did my friend Jason, another Beyonder. He has been captured by Maldor, but it doesn’t seem like he’s had a chance to use the Word.”

“He could be dead,” the charm woman said.

Tears clouded Rachel’s vision. “He could be.”

“Though I expect that he lives,” Drake inserted. “He rang the gong and was admitted to Felrook. Maldor has never been quick to dispose of a significant enemy once captured.”

“You were close to this other Beyonder?” the charm woman asked Rachel tenderly.

“We became close,” she said, trying to bridle her emotions. She had cried enough over Jason. There was no need to make a scene in front of a stranger. “I didn’t know him in the Beyond. I met him here.”

“By what power did you cross over from the Beyond?” the woman asked. “Most of the ways have long been closed.”

Rachel explained how she had followed a butterfly through a natural stone arch and how she had entered Lyrian near the cabin of a spellweaver named Erinda, on the same day the solitary woman had died. Rachel also mentioned how the Blind King suspected that Erinda had summoned her.

“Intriguing,” the woman said. “Erinda was a former apprentice of mine. I have long wondered what became of her. She always displayed a profound interest in the Beyond. You have acquired an Edomic key word. Have you any experience speaking Edomic?”

Rachel blinked. “A little.”

“The girl can call fire,” Drake specified.

“Indeed?” The woman licked her lips, her gaze becoming more intent. “Who taught you this secret?”

Rachel glanced at Drake.

“I did,” he said.

“What business does a member of the Amar Kabal have speaking Edomic?” the woman challenged.

“I’m an exile,” Drake replied. “I’ve dabbled in many pursuits uncommon among my people.”

“You know the prophecy,” the woman pressed. “When the People of the Seed grow familiar with Edomic, their downfall will have commenced.”

Drake flashed his crooked grin. “I’m no longer among my people. I prefer to conclude that I don’t count. Besides, anyone can see that our downfall has begun. We might as well go down fighting.”

“Perhaps,” the charm woman mused, stroking her chin, the liver-spotted hand incongruent against the more youthful skin of her face. “Prophecies aside, the wizardborn normally show little aptitude for Edomic.”

“I’m no spellweaver,” Drake huffed. “It doesn’t come easily. I know a few practical tricks.”

“How long did it take her to learn?”

“She saw me call heat to light a campfire one evening. She asked how I did it, and I told her. She lit a candle that same night.”

“The same night?” The charm woman gasped. “How long did it take you to light your first candle, Drake?”

“Years of practice. She clearly has an unusual aptitude.”

The woman fixed Rachel with a suspicious stare. “Where did you study Edomic before?”

“Nowhere,” Rachel replied. “Never. I know the syllables to the word that can kill Maldor. Otherwise, the first Edomic words I heard came from Drake.”

“This was how long ago?”

“A couple of weeks.”

“You can light a candle whenever you choose?”

“Pretty much.”

“Show me.” The charm woman arose, collected a long reddish candle, handed it to Rachel, and returned to her stool.

“Now?”

“At your pleasure.”

Rachel felt a mild surge of stage fright. She hadn’t done this trick under such scrutiny. The woman had made it sound like lighting a candle with Edomic should have been difficult to learn. The skeptical attitude magnified Rachel’s nervousness. She took a breath. She had done this hundreds of times. She spoke the words, focused on the wick, and a flame flickered into being.