“A SENIOR LEITER.” THE soldiers stood waiting, standing at a respectful attention. A moment later the Senior Leiter stepped into the light, a black-clad old man, his ancient face thin and hard, like a bird’s, eyes bright and alert. He looked from Erick to Jan.
“Who are these people?” he demanded.
“Villagers going back home.”
“No, they’re not. They don’t stand like villagers. Villagers slump—diet, poor food. These people are not villagers. I myself came from the hills, and I know.”
He stepped close to Erick, looking keenly into his face. “Who are you? Look at his chin—he never shaved with a sharpened stone! Something is wrong here.”
In his hand a rod of pale fire flashed. “The City is gone, and with it at least half the Leiter Council. It is very strange, a flash, then heat, and a wind
