“If the Vermin can even find our homestead among the trees, they’re still well protected,” he said.

“Even from one of the Warpers?” I asked.

Leif blanched.

“Are the ropes still there?” I asked Marrok.

“No. The others must have waited and either cut the rope or taken it along with them,” Marrok said.

“Do you know how many went down?” Moon Man asked.

“No.”

Leif said, “There were so many scents and emotions mixed together. The need for stealth and urgency predominated. They moved with a purpose and felt confident. The eastern group, though, had the most men and they…” Leif closed his eyes and sniffed the breeze. “I don’t know. I need to follow their trail for a while.”

Marrok led Leif to the eastern tracks. I asked Kiki and the other horses to come to us. While waiting for them, Moon Man and the other Story Weavers split the warriors into two groups, and sent two scouts, one to the west and the other to the east.

But what about those that went down the rope to the jungle? What about Cahil and Ferde? Were they even with the Daviians? And, if so, which way had they gone?

When the horses arrived, I grabbed my pack off Kiki’s saddle. Opening it, I pulled my rope out and headed for the rim of the plateau. I found one of the metal spikes Marrok had mentioned and tied the end of the rope to it. On my belly, I inched closer to the edge until I could see down into the jungle.

The sides of the cliff appeared to be smooth, with no hand-holds in sight. I tossed the rope over, but knew it wouldn’t reach the bottom far below. The end stopped a quarter of the way down. Even with a longer rope, the climb looked dangerous. Water sprayed out of fissures in the rock face about halfway down. The stones below glistened.

I considered the descent. A desperate person might attempt it, but Leif’s assessment of the Vermin hadn’t included desperation.

Moon Man waited for me by the horses.

“When the scouts return, we will set out,” he said.

A notion that had been bothering me finally clicked. “Your people have swept the plateau and have been watching the camp. How could the Vermin slip away without you knowing?”

“A few of their Warpers had been Story Weavers. They must have learned to make a null shield.”

“That would only hide their presence from a magical search. What about seeing them?”

Before Moon Man could answer, a shout rang out. Leif, Marrok and the scout ran toward us.

“Found a trench,” Marrok panted.

“Heading east then north.” The scout gestured.

“Ill intent,” Leif said.

North toward the Avibian Plains. Toward the Sandseeds’ unprotected lands because their warriors were here in the plateau. Every one.

Moon Man covered his face with his hands as if he needed to block out the distractions and think.

The second scout arrived from the west. Puffs of sand from his passage reached us before he did.

“Another trench?” Marrok asked.

“The trail ends. They doubled back.” The scout reported.

Moon Man dropped his hands and began shouting orders, sending the warriors northeast at a run, ordering the Story Weavers to make contact with the people who stayed behind on the plains.

“Come on,” he said, turning to join the others.

“No,” I said.

He stopped and looked back. “What?”

“Too obvious. I don’t think Cahil would go along with that.”

“Then where did he go?” Moon Man demanded.

“The bulk of the Daviians went east, but I think a smaller group either went west or south.”

“My people are in trouble,” Moon Man said.

“And so are mine,” I replied. “You go with your warriors. If I’m wrong, we’ll catch up with you.”

“And if you are right, then what?”

Then what, indeed. There were only three of us.

“I will go with you,” Moon Man said. He called one of the Story Weavers and a touch of magic pricked my skin as they linked their minds.

Not wanting to intrude on their mental conversation, I focused on finding Cahil. I examined the edge of the plateau. A branch from one of the tall jungle trees reached toward the cliff. I could use my grapple and rope and hook it—

No, Leif said in my mind. Suicide.

I frowned at him. But I could swing—

No.

Nutty could do it. Our cousin climbed trees as if valmur blood coursed through her veins.

You’re not Nutty.

I reluctantly abandoned that course of action. Even if I could swing to the tree, I doubted anyone else would follow me. Then I would be alone. I berated myself for being worried about being on my own: living in Sitia had made me soft.

It has made you smarter, Leif said. Then he added, not much smarter, but we can still hope for improvement.

“Where to?” Tauno asked as he joined our group.

I looked at Moon Man.

He shrugged. “He is better at scouting than fighting. We will need him,” he said with certainty.

I sighed at the implication. “West.”

Perhaps we would find a better way down into the jungle or, failing that, we would follow the plateau’s edge west toward the Cowan Clan’s lands. Once in Cowan land, we would turn south into the forest then loop east into the Illiais Jungle. And hope we weren’t too late.

We mounted the horses. Tauno and Marrok once again led us. The point where the Daviians had turned around was obvious even to me. The hard-packed sand had been scuffed where they stopped, and only flat unblemished sand continued westward.