Chapter Twenty
Suspicions
Lysandir sat up with a start. The Learnéd One of Fire took a moment to absorb his surroundings and disentangle them from the vision he had just experienced. He pushed his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair from blinking silver eyes.
Iarion. He had seen Iarion.
He pushed away the familiar despondency that accompanied the visions brought to those who had drunk from the Forbidden Pool, trying to fit the jumbled pieces together.
Iarion had been drowning in dark waters, dragged from the surface by an unseen attacker. His wrists had been slit.
Lysandir suddenly realized he was already in motion. He had risen from where he had fallen and was in the midst of packing his things. An obedient fire drake watched him from where it lounged nearby with yellow, reptilian
