Rhisart, Gerent of Il’Aicharen, paced his large study as he considered the best way to utilize the pitiful number of teachers available to him. The students were holding up well so far, but it would not be long before discipline began to crack.

Why did Wayra not contact him? He had not the time or energy to waste casting his mind over thousands of square miles in search of her. He didn’t even have enough qualified sentinels to form a conclave and reach out to the high council.

Rhisart was isolated. Alone.

That thought left him with a deep sense of foreboding. He tried to push it away, but could not. At Il’Aicharen, he not only oversaw the training of accepted and managed the daily activities of the keep, but he protected a vital node of power. That was the main reason so many kestrels were assigned to the remote enclave to begin with. His current forces could not protect it.

He sent for the Keeper of Keys.

The old man arrived several minutes later, leaning on the arm of a young accepted. Rhisart smiled warmly in greeting. The keeper was the oldest person at the keep, and had once been one of Rhisart’s mentors.

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The keeper thanked the accepted and dismissed him before turning back to Rhisart with a smile. “You can’t let an old man get his rest before he tries to teach that gaggle of children tomorrow?”

“I am sorry.” Rhisart's own smile faded. “Have you had any foretelling lately, my old friend?”

The keeper frowned, his gaze sharpening at the unexpected question. “Nothing for longer than I care to remember. Why?”

If Rhisart's feeling of dread were anything more than nerves, surely the keeper would have felt it too. Old though he might be, he still wielded tremendous power, and was the only sentinel Rhisart knew to possess even a trace of the prophetic gift.

“We are exposed, our forces too few,” Rhisart said.

“No word from Wayra?”

“None.” Rhisart took a deep breath. “I need the central tower cleared out.”

The keeper nodded gravely, his eyes locked onto Rhisart’s. “You are gerent,” the old man said. “With that mantel comes many gifts none other possess. Never ignore impressions you receive.”

Rhisart smiled. The keeper couldn’t help but teach. “I do feel . . . something.”

“Then the tower will be prepared at once.”

“Do it quietly.”

The keeper smiled. “Since when do you need to teach me how to perform my responsibilities?”

Rhisart turned to stare into the fire burning low in the fireplace.

The keeper placed a withered old hand on his shoulder, “What else is on your mind?”

Without turning, Rhisart declared, “I am going to seal the heart of the mountain.”