The Keeper's Shadow by Dennis Foon Page B

that their actions are destroying the Dreamfield? That they think only to use the children you tried to save as weapons?”
    The healer looks up at Mabatan defiantly. Her lips widen into a venomous smile and the air in the room becomes thick with her desire to hurt Mabatan. “Liar,” she whispers.
    Suddenly aware of the frantic pounding of her heart, Mabatan stands and knocks on the door, never taking her eyes off the Dirt Eater. The healer laughs contemptuously and Mabatan does not breathe easily until Resa shuts the door behind her.
    â€œHow’s it going in there? Sounded a bit noisy,” Resa comments knowingly.
    Mabatan scowls, then looks urgently at the Apsara warrior. “Resa, there is something I must do. I will be in my room. I cannot be disturbed.”
    Resa nods. “I understand.”
    â€œDo not let her sleep.”
    The warrior shifts uneasily from foot to foot. “How strong will she become when the sickness leaves her?”
    â€œYou think her capable of overcoming you?” smiles Mabatan.
    Lips pursing, Resa stands a little taller. “No one knows the limits of Dirt Eater power. Even the bravest warriors fear what they do not comprehend.”
    â€œYes, you are wise to fear her,” says Mabatan, the healer’s dry laughter echoing in her mind. “Take appropriate precautions.”
    Willum gazes out at the shifting mist that masks the top of the volcano. The Caldera itself is still as he remembers it: black stone, warmth rising from deep inside the earth, green fields, swaying bamboo. But the Apsara community has grown: there are more children than when he last visited, many more buildings and paintings, swirling kaleidoscopes of color, pleasing to eye and heart. So much changes in fifteen years. And though Ende is still strong and fit, the lines in her face are deeper when she smiles, partly the ravages of age, partly those of worry. Willum feels her burden. Apsara are sure to perish in the battles to come, and she loves each as a mother loves a child.
    Footsteps, almost silent. The right leg is favored, ever so slightly. No one else would notice, he is sure. Always ready to attack with the left. This is how their mother’s death marked her. “Kira.”
    â€œGrandmother is ready.”
    â€œWhen is she not?” He never understood why Ende chose Kira to take on the challenge of Saint, but there is no doubt Kira is the stronger for it. She has grown into the warrior she was destined to become; the only residue of the terror she experienced as a child is the battle readiness she carries even in her most relaxed moments. “Did I tell you how good it is to see you again?”
    Kira grins at him. “Yes, when you first arrived, then again at breakfast, and last night as well.”
    â€œThe City has made me clumsy at sharing my heart.”
    â€œI’m teasing,” Kira says dryly. “I’m sure I’ve told you just as many times how awfully good it is to have you back. I’ve missed you terribly.” Then, putting her arm through his, she leads him toward Ende’s quarters.
    With her touch comes a surge, a vision: her face distorted in pain. How or why he cannot tell. Only that it will be death she faces, death. But as hard as he tries, he cannot reach further, cannot see the outcome.
    â€œWhat is it? You sensed something, didn’t you?”
    â€œYes.” Willum knows better than to lie to his sister.
    Kira elbows him in the ribs. “Fifteen years of fooling Darius and the Masters and you still couldn’t try to pull the wool over my eyes?” she grins.
    â€œKira…”
    â€œNo. It’s all right. I don’t want to know. I have no illusions about what’s to come, Willum. Darius is ancient, his power vast and insidious. I fight for the children. Whether or not I’m to be part of their future, only fate can decide.”
    Kira stops and, placing a hand on his cheek, she kisses