“No!” Colvin said, his eyes flashing with anger. “Do not tangle it into knots! You had the right answer, but then you doubted. You must never, never leave room in your mind for doubt. It chokes the Medium. It starves it. It drowns it. All you must do is believe in those small insights – those little bursts of wisdom that bloom in your mind when your heart is calm, controlled, peaceful. The Medium brought us together, for those very reasons you mentioned. Years from now, we may look back on this moment and realize there were other reasons still that we have not yet discovered. It is enough though, for now. You wanted to read. And yes, even Maderos could feel that burning in you. The Medium cannot help but respond to your desire.”

Lia was not sure, but he seemed convinced. “Should I try the orb again?”

He shook his head. “You are not ready yet.”

“Why not?”

His look was intensely serious. “Because each time you fail will make it that much harder to succeed. Do not pull it out of the pouch until you know you will use it and that it will work. Leave it, until then.”

The sudden sound of mourning doves flapping their wings and shrieking startled them as the birds took flight somewhere behind them. Birds usually acted like that when they sensed a threat.

“We go,” Colvin said, his eyes blazing with worry. “Something startled the birds. Quickly!”

* * *

Hours later, Lia and Colvin reached a sliver of road. The brush and trees had been cleared, the moors drained sufficiently. It was a narrow neck, wide enough for a single wagons or five soldiers to march abreast. By the freshly churned ruts and mashed boot-prints, it was clear that soldiers and wagons had, and recently too.

Colvin’s voice was a dark murmur. “We are behind,” he said, sliding off the saddle. Pulling the reins, he tugged the stallion after him.

“Maderos warned us to shun the road,” Lia said. The trees were skeletal and sickly. The air was oppressed with the stench of sweat and other vicious odors.

Colvin knelt by the edge of the road, looking at the rut-marks. His hand clenched into a fist. “The tracks are fresh. Made earlier today.”

“Someone may see us,” Lia said worriedly.

“Going back is not a good suggestion either,” he said, looking angrier than ever. “We can cover more distance this way, then veer back into the marsh.”

“I think we should go back into the marsh now.”

“The sheriff’s men are behind us, who knows how close. This gives us a chance to outride them a bit.” He came back to the stallion and swung up on the saddle. He held out his hand to her to climb up behind him.

She shook her head. “We should not take the road.”

His hand hung in the hair, fingers hooking. “If the sheriff thinks we took the road, they will ride hard after us. They may not see our tracks shrink back into the Bearden Muir. I know what Maderos said. Trust me.”

Part of her was sick inside. Part of it made sense. Maderos’ warning haunted her. She did not want to see Almaguer again. The very thought of him made her insides twist and revolt, made her skin tingle with dread. It was as if the smoke-shapes were still sniffing at her clothes. Her dream whispered to her and she felt the thrust of steel in her heart.

He leaned closer, his eyes bleary and cragged with veins. “Trust me.”

Reaching up with her shaky hand, she took his. The force in his hand, his arm, was powerful as he pulled her up behind him. She clung to him as he kicked the stallion’s flanks and started at full gallop down the road into the twisty maze of trees, reeds, and brush. She saw dirt and sweat on the flesh of his neck. The scenery was a blur of speed. The stallion chuffed and snorted, shaking its wavy wane as it churned the mud and roared ahead. Too far! They were going too far!

Lia wanted to shriek in his ear. Something was wrong. Something was going to happen to them. Get off the road, it warned. Get off the road. In her mind, Maderos’ voice was scolding. The orb tells many things. If you take the road, you will be captured. And the girl. The road is not safe.

Somehow Maderos knew. Somehow he had known. All along, he had known what they would face in the Bearden Muir. They were flouting his advice.

The road is not safe. The road is dangerous.

Each moment made her heart quaver. Each instant was a torment. They had to leave the road. The moors would be safer, even without the orb.

“Colvin,” she said in his ear. “Please!”

“Not yet,” he shouted.

“Please! Leave the road. Before it is too late.”

“A little further.”