Tsamen was carving runes into the head of a spear when Bren came up behind her.

“Tsamen! I was looking for you. What do your scouts have to report?”

Evidently Tsamen hadn’t noticed her chieftain, for his voice caused her to jump in her seat. Only her hands remained steady. Years of practice did not allow Tsamen to make mistakes. She was an enhancer, and mistakes cost lives.

“They reported golems several hours from here,” Tsamen spat, mindful of her spear, but not, alas, Bren’s bare feet. She held nothing but distain for Rebeka’s continued use of golems. Tsamen had been Rebeka’s teacher and had taken her betrayal as a personal insult.

Bren scraped his foot in the dust, “Are they the same golems she used to break the vows?” Bren hoped to avoid a fight with the iron golems at all costs. Despite all their skill, the Maharal didn’t have a hundredth of the resources needed to match them in an even fight.

Tsamen shook her head, “These golems were of fired clay. Their construct appears rushed and inexpertly made.”

“Did your scouts see which runes they had?”

“The standard set. Repair, Strength, Speed, Obey. No image runes, no invisible golems.”

Bren nodded, “Have you talked to Fleysh yet?”

“I decided I’d finish my spear first.”

Tsamen passed it to Bren. The shaft was as straight as a fishbone. The obsidian head contained a small piece of the sun and glistened as he rolled it about in his hands. Adamant blue light bound the two parts. Within the light Bren could make out the rune of binding, white as down, coiling in and out of view like a thing alive. Golden runes of strength and ochre runes of repair were carved in minute detail along both the shaft and the head. Not even a golem at the height of its strength could destroy this spear. Bren handed it back.

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“Well made.”

“Aye, I’m proud of this one. Fleysh made the parts.”

“I will have to compliment him at the outset of our conversation. Shall we?”

Bren lifted Tsamen to her feet.

“Where do you suppose our dreamer has got to?” she asked.

“Let us try back down the road first. He often lags behind.”

Tsamen laughed, high and unafraid, and the two set off. “He’d not move if we didn’t goad him. I watched him stare at a leaf yesterday for at least ten minutes.”

“I can hardly blame him. This land has so much to offer. This morning I saw a deer in the trees beside the road. Its sides were smooth and brown and it had the kindest eyes. It stood there as I passed. I swear I could have reached out and touched it if I’d dared. I wish you could have seen it.”

“I wish I could have too,” said Tsamen dreamily, “But look! Here is another wonder that we might share.”

Beside the road grew a short row of brilliant purple flowers. Bren bent and sniffed one. Its perfume was as crisp as a winter morning and as comforting as a hug. Bren couldn’t stop himself from clapping his hands in delight.

“Marvelous! What miracle will this land offer next?”

“Are you sure you can do this?” Glove asked for the third time.

For the third time, Rebeka nodded, “Glove, don’t worry. The runes always activate after their carver touches them. The amount of time they spend dormant doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. These are your people.”

“I broke our vows. They will do whatever they can to destroy me. I wish to live.”

Glove tried another tactic to put them both on familiar ground, “I have heard the Maharal only value the lives of their own. Why do you side with me, an outsider?”

“If my people want me dead I will side with anyone who opposes them, no matter who they are. Enough. I need to be ready for the alarm.”

Glove was reminded of his own parents for a moment. His mother had been blind since birth and his father had been struck deaf by a horse’s hoof soon after Glove himself had been born. Both of them had loved it when he played the lute, but for different reasons. His father was amazed by the way his fingers danced across the strings whereas his mother was enchanted by the music. They found it impossible to explain to the other why they enjoyed Glove’s music so much, even though both tried for hours on end to imagine what they could not.