Red Magic by Jean Rabe Page A

haven’t seen them since I was a child. As for Galvin, his parents were killed when he was young. He’s been on his own—and alone—since then.”
    “How did his parents die?” she persisted, puffing to keep up and hopping to avoid rocks and thorns.
    “It was … an accident,” he said, continuing to plod forward, staring at the horizon. Through an opening in the vine-covered trees, he thought he caught a glimpse of the First Escarpment. Galvin had told Wynter about his parents stealing something from an ambassador—a Thayvian ambassador. Even though the stolen items were returned, the ambassador demanded their deaths and their property. The ambassador’s wishes were fulfilled, and Galvin grew up hating Thay and civilization in general.
    “So he’s not married,” Brenna mused. “But he’s got the Harpers.”
    “He has some friends in the Harpers,” Wynter admitted, “But few of them are really close. Basically he’s a loner.”
    “What if I wanted to join the Harpers?” Brenna asked. Her voice was somewhat muffled, since her head was directed at the ground to avoid obstacles.
    “That depends on you,” Wynter replied, speeding up his pace. “It depends on how much time and effort you’re willing to sacrifice. It depends on whether you’re willing to put your life on hold and on the line for whatever cause might come up.”
    “Are there any politicians in the Harpers?”
    “Sure.”
    “Who? Name some,” she encouraged.
    “I can’t do that,” Wynter stated flatly. “We’re a secret organization, remember. Part of our strength lies in our anonymity.”
    For the next hour, the pair fell into silence, and the gap widened between Brenna and Wynter and Galvin, who was several hundred yards ahead of them. At times they lost sight of Galvin in the trees, and the sorceress struggled to close the distance, knowing the centaur was lagging behind with her out of courtesy. Her feet burned, and it took considerable effort to keep going. She yearned to stop to rest and tend to the blisters on her feet.
    Eventually she and Wynter lost sight of Galvin altogether, and she was worried they had become lost. However, the centaur concentrated on the ground, spotting signs of the druid’s passage here and there and assuring her they were on course. The centaur tried to increase the pace, but Brenna could move no faster.
    “He won’t let himself get too far ahead of us,” Wynter offered.
    “Shhh! Listen,” Brenna whispered.
    “I don’t hear anything.”
    “That’s just it,” she said, her voice barely audible. “No birds … nothing.”
    The flora had remained as lush as when they first entered the woods many hours ago, but now there were no parrots, chipmunks, or other signs of life. Only a few miles ago there had been so many colorful birds that they looked like flowers on the trees. Straining her eyes, she couldn’t spot even one.
    Ahead, she and Wynter saw Galvin step out from behind a tree and motion them to stop. The druid placed his palms against the trunk of a willow and closed his eyes. He laid the side of his head against the bark.
    “What’s he doing?” Brenna asked, puzzled.
    “He’s talking to the tree,” Wynter explained.
    “Yeah, sure he is,” the enchantress retorted sarcastically. But she was glad for the opportunity to stay put. Her side was aching from hiking so long, her feet felt as if they were on fire, and she welcomed the rest.
    After several minutes, the druid stepped back from the tree, opened his eyes, and started back toward the centaur and Brenna. He appeared drained, Brenna noted, while a short time ago he had seemed reasonably fresh and energetic.
    “We’ll camp over there,” he said, pointing at a patch of ground near the willow. Thorn bushes were still plentiful, but there was enough space between them to accommodate the three travelers.
    A rush of relief washed over Brenna. She prayed the trip tomorrow wouldn’t be as long; if it was, she’d never be able to