Lukias nodded sagely.

The gravel suddenly shifted under Annon’s boots and he nearly fell.

Lukias grabbed his arm to steady him. “These foothills are treacherous,” the Rike said, squinting at Annon.

“How far to Basilides?” Annon asked.

“Tomorrow we will reach the pass that leads to it.” He glanced from Annon to his friends. “When you see it, you will understand why this quest of yours will fail. Just as it takes a Druidecht to understand the lore of the wild, it takes a Rike of Seithrall to navigate the shrine. You will not penetrate the interior without my help. It would be dangerous for you to attempt it.”

Annon stood still and stared at him. “I do not ask you to betray your brethren. Only to lead us there.”

Lukias shook his head. “I will not betray the order. I’m only warning you that it is dangerous. We spoke a moment ago about trust. I have tried to earn yours these last few days. Your spirit cat will attest that I have not tried to escape. I have made no contact with the order and I do not intend to betray you. Your rings verify my words.”

Erasmus reached them, his expression wary. “Words are slippery things, Rike.”

“They are indeed, Preachán. I was taught by the order that the Druidecht magic was a myth, a superstition. If that is not true, it puts in question the other things I’ve been taught. I am your willing prisoner right now. I hope to earn your trust to be included in your mission. Perhaps our two sides need not war any longer.”

Annon smiled sardonically. “We’ll see.” He looked at the others. “The day is getting late, but we should go farther and then make camp. Onward.”

Their heavy boots began shuffling deeper into the fringe of mountains.

They sat around a small campfire in a cave made from fallen boulders. The enormous stones shielded the light and hid them from anyone passing by the foothills below. Scrub and rock littered the land, a boneyard of granite and fissures. They had seen many lizards along the way, some quite large. Serpents slithered away from them, unused to disruption by mankind in the inhospitable terrain. The shelter was large enough to provide cover for them. The ground was powdery dust.

Annon stared into the fire, reaching out through his talisman for spirits in the area. It was not the type of creatures he was used to in Wayland, but they responded to him immediately, coming in the form of moths and dragonflies as his companions ate their rations in silence, faces haggard from the arduous walk.

Greetings, Druidecht. May we be of service to you?

It was an oddly formal greeting, but it pleased Annon that they were not harsh or distrustful.

The Aeduan sitting next to me is a Rike from Kenatos. I would appreciate it if he fell asleep quickly.

He felt the throb of anger in their emotions. Shall we poison his food, master? The Rikes are enemies. They poison these mountains.

No—just sleep.

A colorful moth appeared from the shadows behind Lukias, hovering above his head. Fine trailers of dust came from its wings, sprinkling down on the Rike’s head. Lukias was eating a hard biscuit, chewing it determinedly and Annon watched as his eyes grew heavy. He rubbed them, shaking his head in distraction. His eyes began to droop and the crust of biscuit dropped from his hand. Without a word, he stretched out on the ground and fell into a deep slumber.

Erasmus and Khiara stared at Lukias in confusion.

Annon smiled at them and nodded. “He will sleep all night,” he said. “I wanted to speak freely with you.”

Erasmus rubbed his mouth. “I recall a very similar feeling when we reached Canton Vaud and your friend, Reeder. Did I fall asleep that quickly as well?”

Nizeera padded into the firelight, returning from her hunt with a hare in her jaws. She nestled down deeper into the cave and started to pick at her meal.

Annon nodded. “Give me your prediction, Erasmus. Will Lukias betray us?”

“A one in ten chance that he will not,” came the definitive reply. “I’m glad you asked, because I was beginning to worry about your judgment, young man. You speak too freely.”

Annon scratched at an itch on his wrist. “It’s a difficult balance when he has a ring himself. I believe he is not lying deliberately. But his devotion to and knowledge of the Arch-Rike may continue to be useful to us. You say he’ll betray us. When?”

Erasmus took out a handful of nuts from his pack and started munching on them. “Not at the entrance of Basilides. He would wait until we were inside. Lost, perhaps. When we no longer have the upper hand in his confinement. He is adept at soothing fears. I do not trust him at all. Nor should you.”