a sooty brown. They did not pass many people on the road, but those they met were very reserved. Though not openly hostile, they were clearly cautious of strangers. And even when they had managed to warn the dragons out of sight, Merlin felt that two young people riding good warhorses and armed with impressive swords must seem very strange indeed.
Merlin deliberately tried not to dwell on his memories. The past was long past, but here in the present he was about to spend several days, maybe weeks, with the woman he loved. Yet whenever that thought cheered him, he’d start thinking about how he wanted to show her the places that he had loved. Then he’d look over the bleak landscape, and instead of seeing the bluebells and buttercups and brilliant yellow broom he might expect in this season, there was nothing but gray and brown and a sickly pale green. The most color came from the orange, yellow, and purple lichen splashed over some of the rocks.
Again and again, he had to drag his mind back to the present, though focusing on their present quest did not improve his mood. His lack of information made Merlin feel particularly helpless. “It’s so frustrating,” he complained that first day when they had stopped by the roadside for a hurried lunch. “I stilldon’t have a clue what to be looking for. I’ll just have to use every power I have to try to sense … something.”
Heather shook her head. “My powers have mostly to do with animals, and I don’t know what use that will be. Your scary-sounding grandpa is not likely to have turned his son into an animal, is he?”
“Not likely. Animals have too much independence, and, anyway, a two-thousand-year-old stag or badger might draw attention.”
“So it’s likely to be something that can’t get around on its own or be noticed. Like a rock.”
Merlin groaned. “And Wales does have rather a lot of rocks. Still, we can look on the bright side. It might be a really big rock that suddenly avalanches into our path.”
When Heather had finished laughing, Merlin said, “Actually, you do have a lot more power than just animal magic. You haven’t said much lately about what you hear in your mind from elsewhere in the world.”
“That’s because it’s mostly the same, just getting worse. Everywhere there’s growing worry about what is coming. Spirits and powers, both good and bad, are making themselves known. And muties in every country seem to be more apparent too, though they aren’t all the same and they’re taking different sides. Everywhere, though, there seems to be a feeling that major battles are looming.”
After a moment’s thought, Heather continued. “Some of what they’re telling me is really interesting. The kid I used to call Jaguar Boy, his name is Temesqua. He says that spirits he’d only heard about in legends are suddenly appearing for real. The Jaguars are the scariest, but at least they seem to be on our side. Some horrid-sounding swamp things are not. Badrack in Mongolia says that the mountain spirits are all stirring and are verytroubled. What Patma tells me about things in India is very confusing. It seems that every deity and spirit there, good and bad, is rather frightening-looking, with an unusual number of arms. I’m having trouble keeping them all straight from Patma’s descriptions, but the bad ones seem to go in more for tusks and horns as well, and they’re stirring up a lot of trouble.”
“How many voices are you in touch with?”
“About a dozen, though now and then I reach new ones. All are apparently my age or younger. I guess this is something that’s just come on with this generation. And those I’m in touch with all have other contacts that I’m not linked to directly. But everywhere things are about the same—troubled and stirring.”
They had just arrived at a crossroads, and the horses, lacking direction, had stopped.
“Where to now?” Heather asked.
Merlin shrugged hopelessly. “Your guess is as
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