The cairn is situated atop a hill—barely a bump compared to the hills we were navigating just a week ago, but still higher than the surrounding countryside—and is nestled within a copse of stunted pine trees. Delkash and I had thought to explore the copse in search of forage, and had stumbled across the ancient pile of stones.

Soil has accumulated between the stones, and patches of scrub grass and hardy flowers have taken root there. Bushes have taken hold around its base and begun to grow up and over the mound. In another dozen or so years, the cairn will probably be just another bump in a bumpy landscape. I feel unaccountably fascinated by the landmark, though. It glows significantly in my Sight.

I start pulling the brush away, clearing the cairn so I can better examine it. The stones range in size from fist-sized, to larger than my head, and are wide and flat. The cairn itself is much broader than it is tall, rising only perhaps to my waist, but spreading a couple of spans in diameter. At one end, I pull the brush away and discover a large stone laid against the cairn, with a roughly chiseled inscription reading “Kabeera.”

“’Kabeera,’” I say aloud. “Does that mean anything to you, Delkash?”

Delkash tilts his head, thinking. “It’s familiar. Kabeera…” He looks off into the distance, thinking, then nods his head. “Yes, that’s it. It was a story that Hilda told me, once. There was a mystic named Kabeera. I..can’t remember the details now, but there was something… Hilda knew her, I’m pretty sure. Knew her well.”

“Is that good?”

Delkash tapped his lips. “I’m not sure. I can’t remember now if the acquaintance was positive or not. Either way, though, I imagine Hilda will want to know about this.” His eyes grow distant again. “Kabeera…”

If I could pry secrets from the stones, I would, but even my Sight can only tease so much from a pile of rocks. Regretfully, and reluctantly, I turn away from the cairn, and from Kabeera.

So many mysteries. If I could, I would walk the entire Ironlands, turning every stone, searching every cave, learning every tree and flower. I wanted to know. I wanted to unlock the secrets of everything, to speak with the wolf, to commune with the deer, to run with the wind, to laugh with the brook.

We spot Raven Hill—the hill proper, not the village—after another day of travel. The village lies on the far side of it, and the sight of the landmark cheers my heart…until I see the smoke rising above the shoulder of the hill.

I look to Delkash, who shrugs.

“Cook fires,” I say, but my heart fears otherwise. Even if every home in Raven Hill had stoked their fires simultaneously, it wouldn’t make such smoke.

I push hard, nearly running, not caring if Delkash keeps up or not. We reach the foot of Raven Hill and climb, the path clear now, switching back and forth as it mounts upward. I’m gasping for breath but I do not dare pause to rest. Something is very wrong, I can feel it, and while I feel plenty of concern for Nisus, and Makari, and Nakata, the thought of something happening to Giliana freezes my heart.

I crest the shoulder of Raven Hill just as the sun finishes setting in the west, hidden behind the bulk of the hill to my right. The village lies below me, visible in the twilight, and at first I feel such a rush of relief to see the wall intact and houses standing that my knees nearly buckle. Then I look closer—a wide section of the southern palisade is collapsed, and blackened, and several houses around it are burning fitfully. Smoke rises from the wreckage. I can just make out a dozen or so people milling around the burning houses, pulling debris away and generally trying to keep the flames from spreading.

Delkash pulls up beside me, breathing hard, but not gasping for breath, as I am. I’m so focused on the village that his apparent invincibility doesn’t even annoy me, as it might have otherwise. I’m encouraged to see the village mostly intact, and people alive, and my desperate urgency wanes somewhat. I pick my way more carefully down the hillside in the waning light.

Nisus spots us as we walk through the north gate of the village. “Inka?” he cries. “Is that you? You’re alive!”

He embraces me quickly, then looks at me, seeming confused. “What happened to your hair?”

My hair? The question seems like such a non sequitur that it takes me a moment to remember my baldness. “Never mind that,” I say. “What happened here?”

He glances at my head again. Then, “Raiders,” he says, and I can see now that he’s shaking. “This morning. They came out of the east, hiding with the rising sun, and we didn’t see them until they were swarming the palisade and setting fire at its base.”

“What did they want?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. They killed a few of the men who were defending the wall, grabbed a few villagers, and then left.”

My heart stops. I fear to ask the question, but I have to. “Who did they take?”

Nisus looks away. “They grabbed Haf, and Qamar. And Masias, and his little brother. And Keelan.” He looks into my eyes, then, “Nakata tried to stop them, Inka. She stood before them like a wall, but they hurt her and knocked her down. And…and then they took Giliana.”

My heart breaks with the news. Somehow, I’d known what Nisus would say, known that Giliana would not be here. I fall to my knees, suddenly exhausted and defeated. My vision swims with tears. I came as quickly as I could! I raise my head and scream at the sky, cursing my curiosity at Kabeera’s cairn, cursing the storm that slowed us, cursing the time we wasted at Greywick.

Nisus is beside me, holding me, crying. Other villagers are coming, some of them trying to comfort me, others trying to help me up. I’m so, so weary. All my effort for the past weeks feels suddenly vain, meaningless. Why wasn’t I here when Giliana needed me? My place was here!

Here! Here!

My vision narrows, goes dark. I descend into insensibility.