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enclave where the tribe was slowly waking. A small boy squatted in the sand by the entrance, drawing with his finger. Smoke drifted from a fire around the cliff wall—they were getting ready to cook the morning wheat pancakes. As the smoke rose, it was swept down-canyon by a perpetual breeze, and most of it dissipated before it rose high enough to be seen from any distance. A thin trail of smoke lingered over the funeral pyre beyond towering boulders a hundred meters from the camp.
    Thomas took a deep breath, glanced at the pile of large rocks to his right, and was about to tell William to take his expedition when a man stepped around the largest boulder.
    Thomas’s first thought was that he was hallucinating. Dreaming, as he used to dream before the dreams had vanished. This was no ordinary man standing before him, drilling him with green eyes.
    This was . . .
    Justin?
    Thomas blinked to clear his vision.
    What he saw made his whole body seize. Justin was still there, standing in three complete dimensions, as real as any man Thomas had ever faced.
    â€œHello, Thomas.”
    Justin’s kind eyes flashed, not with reflected light, but with their own brilliance. Thomas thought he should fall to his knees. He was surprised the others hadn’t dropped already. They, like him, had been immobilized by Justin’s sudden appearance.
    â€œI’ve been watching you, my friend. What I see makes me proud.”
    Thomas opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
    â€œI’ve shared my mind with you,” Justin said. “I’ve given my body for you.” His mouth twisted into a grin and he spoke each word clearly. “Now I will show you my heart,” he said. “I will show you my love.”
    Thomas felt each word hit his chest, as if they were soft objects flung through the air, impacting one at a time. Now I will show you my heart. My love.
    Thomas turned his head toward the others. They stared at him, not comprehending. Surely they saw! Surely they heard.
    â€œThis is for you, Thomas,” Justin said. “Only you.”
    Thomas looked back at—
    Justin was gone!
    The morning air felt heavy.
    â€œThomas!”
    Thomas turned back toward the camp in time to see Mikil rushing around the cliff. She pulled up and stared at him, face white.
    â€œWhat is it?” he asked absently, mind still split.
    â€œI’m . . . I think I know something about Kara,” she said.
    â€œKara? Who’s Kara?”
    But as soon as he asked, he remembered. His sister. From the histories.

3
    W oref swung his leg over the stallion and dropped to the sand. Behind him, a hundred of his best soldiers waited on horses that stamped and occasionally snorted in the cool morning air. They’d approached the firelit sky last night, camped at the edge of the Southern Forest, and risen while it was still dark. This could be the day that marked the beginning of the end for the albinos.
    The lieutenant who’d first located this camp had never been wrong—once again he hadn’t disappointed. Still, they’d been in similar situations a dozen times, the albinos within reach, only to return home empty-handed. The Circle didn’t fight, but they had perfected the art of evasion.
    Woref stared at the canyons ahead. The blue smoke of burning horse manure was unmistakable. Soren had reported a small oasis south of the camp—roughly a hundred trees around one of the poisonous red pools—but the albinos were too smart to use any wood unless it was already fallen. Instead they used recycled fuel, as a Scab would. They’d adapted to the desert well with Martyn’s help. Johan’s help.
    Woref ’s dreadlocks hung heavy on his head, and he rolled his neck to clear one from his face. Truth be told, he’d never liked Martyn. His defection was appropriate. Better, it had opened the way for Woref ’s own promotion. Now he was the hunter and Martyn the prey, along with Thomas.