“Start fresh,” Jason urged. “Be true to this. Play your games for us.”

Ferrin sighed. “I never chose this cause. Not really. I didn’t walk away from Maldor as a matter of principle. I made a mistake and ran away. Am I so inconstant that I then become unswervingly loyal to his enemies?”

“Why were you loyal to him?” Jason asked.

“Partly out of tradition,” Ferrin said. “I’m a displacer. All displacers are loyal to Maldor. Mostly for security. He’s going to win. Displacers know what happens to the losing side. I was loyal to the future undisputed emperor of all Lyrian.”

“What if we can win?” Jason said. “What if the oracle sees a way that Maldor can lose?”

“Oracles see thousands of possible futures,” Ferrin said. “Maybe millions. Maybe more. Out of the countless possible futures, is there one where Maldor fails? Probably. Even if this oracle predicts possible victory for a rebellion, I’m willing to wager she’ll see many, many more futures where we get crushed. Besides, if that oracle lays eyes on me, she’ll probably order me slain on sight.”

“Why?” Jason asked.

Ferrin met his gaze. “Because who knows how many of those futures where the rebellion gets crushed will begin with an act of betrayal by me?”

Jason had no words. Ferrin didn’t help him. “Should you ask to be imprisoned?”

“What do you think?” Ferrin asked.

“I already told you. I think you should start fresh. I think you should call your old life over. This is a better cause. You said you never had real friends. You’re on your way now. I’m one of them. Let that be enough.”

Ferrin flicked a piece of fruit into his mouth with his thumb. “I don’t know. I think if you lie long enough, often enough, you become a lie. Strip away my pretenses and deceptions, and I’m not sure there’d be anything left.”

“You won’t fix that problem with more lies,” Jason said. “Not by lying to yourself. Not by lying to us. If you’re true to this cause, you’ll have something left when you strip away the rest—this cause and these friendships.”

“You don’t get it,” Ferrin said. “No matter how hard I try, there’s a cynical corner of my mind where everything is an act. People are game pieces. Information is currency. At the same time I portray myself as a rebel displacer loyal to a new cause, I secretly feel like a deeply placed spy worming his way deeper all the time. I’ve mustered sincerity before. I’ve almost believed it. I’m an expert at almost believing my lies. How is this different? How can it be?”

“Because we know what you are and we’re still giving you a chance.”

Ferrin bowed his head. He reached one hand up the sleeve of his robe and withdrew a chunk of flesh.

“What’s that?” Jason asked.

“Part of my brachial artery,” Ferrin said. “Take it. Consider it an extra fail-safe. I’ve spent my life backstabbing anyone foolish enough to trust me. Now I’m betraying the one master I’ve always served. And I’m betraying my people. But I’ll try to be true to this rebellion. For the sake of friendship. It’s a better reason than I’ve had before.”

Jason accepted it with a nod.

Footsteps approached. Drake poked his head into the storeroom. “We’re getting ready to move out. Is that dried fruit?”

“They have mountains of it,” Ferrin said.

“Bring me a handful,” Drake said. He looked back and forth between Jason and Ferrin. “Everything all right?”

“Just peachy,” Jason said.

Crossing the three ropes over the chasm was no fun. They jiggled and swayed far more than Jason preferred, and it seemed impossible to avoid looking down at the seemingly infinite fall awaiting him.

Drake explained that these makeshift bridges were easily destroyed, leaving the trail virtually impassable if even lightly defended. The delegation traversed several more of them as the trail zigzagged northeast toward the unseen tundra.

By the twelfth day of the trek, still surrounded by colossal crags and escarpments, Jason began to notice the wind keening ominously in the distance. “We might have some bad weather coming,” he commented to Farfalee as they gathered around a campfire below a sheltering overhang.

“Not necessarily,” she replied. “You hear Howling Notch. We’ll get there tomorrow.”

“That’s where the fun really begins,” Drake said, munching on a strip of dried meat.

“What’s Howling Notch?” Rachel asked.

“An unnatural anomaly,” Drake said.

“The terrain north of Howling Notch funnels high winds through a narrow gap,” Farfalee explained.

Drake prodded the fire with a stick. “The wind is constant and fierce, yet the terrain never changes, the gap never erodes.”

“A secretive wizard once made his home in the vicinity,” Farfalee added. “He built his stronghold into the living rock, shaping it with Edomic. Many believe the terrain around Howling Notch is under some lingering enchantment.”

“I’ve been through the notch a time or three,” Kerick said, stepping up to the fire. “It’s demanding, but if you keep your head, it can be done.”

The prospect of high winds and steep cliffs made Jason recall a certain nightmare with a torivor involved. “Can we blow off an edge?”

Kerick chuckled knowingly. “It’s the deadliest stretch of this trail. In stormy weather, no living thing could drag itself through that gap. We’re later in the year than I’d prefer, but the summer weather keeps holding. If you hold tight to the line and follow instructions, we should get you through.”

The next morning the wailing wind grew progressively louder. The tempestuous howls seemed incongruent with the blue sky and wispy clouds overhead.

“You’d think we were hiking into a hurricane,” Rachel said from behind Jason.

“It’s weird,” he replied. “I’ve hardly felt a breeze all morning.”

Walking in front of Jason, Drake glanced back. “The same terrain that funnels the gusts through Howling Notch mostly shields the approach. You’ll see it just up around this bend.”

When Howling Notch came into view, Jason stopped walking. Still some distance ahead, a high saddle of rock connected a pair of towering escarpments. A steep, V-shaped gap split the saddle.

“It’s so loud even from here!” Rachel said. Jason could hardly make out her words.