287.

She wasn't sure how he knew. Maybe it was something about the tone of her voice or the expression on her face. Or maybe it was something else, some thought she projected. Regardless of what it was, the blond knight met her eyes.

"It's Travis Wilder," he said. "Isn't it?" She could do no more than give a stiff nod. Beltan knelt before her, reaching around Tira to lay big hands on Grace's shoulders, his eyes hard as flint.

"What's happened to him, my lady? You must tell me."

At last air rushed into her lungs, and she was able to speak. In dry, emotionless words she explained the dream, the vision, and the purpose of her journey. She was dimly aware that she had told none of this to Meridar. However, if the knight was angry he did not show it. He still stared at the map Beltan had drawn in the dirt.

When she was finished, Beltan stood. "It is not far from here to the bridge over the Dimduorn," the knight said. "We can cross into Toloria tonight, then be to Ar-tolor before this time tomorrow."

Grace shook her head. "I don't understand." "I'm coming with you," the blond knight said.

292.

Travis was on fire.

The world should have been brilliant with the flames, but instead it was dark and suffocating. Hot, black fabric swaddled him, tangling around his limbs. The place seemed a tomb--confined and lightless, walled in stone. How had he gotten there?

The hands. Yes, that was it. The hands had reached 0111- f^( 4-"l-*rt /1/.1-^>o^^ Urt