The remainder of their journey through Galleus was actually quite pleasant, at least compared to what had come before it. The roads were good, the Galleans themselves were friendly, and Sir Estil, who knew the country well, was an excellent guide. The weather, meanwhile, remained warm and dry, though it did get cooler at night.

  As they made their way west, the rolling fields and farmlands slowly gave way to ranches and orchards, and finally to desert scrublands. These lands, dry and sandy, littered with rocks and boulders, riven with canyons, and full of brush, were sparsely populated, and even on horseback, it often took them several days to get from one small village to the next.

  Life seemed a little slower out here. The Galleans living in this region worked in the mornings, but spent their afternoons lounging in the shade beneath canopies or stunted desert trees. They took long naps and never looked to be in any kind of hurry. Arai could hardly blame them; the desert heat had a tendency to lull him to sleep as well. Lillandra, who was now riding with him once again, had had to shake him awake a few times, after he had drifted off.

  It was late summer by the time they made it to Bloodlorn. This was a village of perhaps a hundred and fifty people; according to Sir Estil, it was the westernmost Gallean settlement, situated at the very edge of the dangerous Tarnak. Its proximity to the desert made it a frequent target for monster attacks, and a contingent of Gallean knights was usually stationed here to defend it; in his youth Sir Estil had been one of these.

  The village, which consisted mostly of mud houses, tents, and brick buildings, had been arranged around an oasis, and there were trees growing up in the midst of it -- fig trees, olive trees, peach trees, and above them all, palm trees, which provided a great deal of shade.

  "This is it," Shell said, staring at the town with her big green eyes. "This is the end of the world."

  Of course this wasn't true -- beyond the Scarred Lands lay the gigantic Queendom of Elent, the statelets of Arliel's Holy Empire, and finally Velon -- but to an easterner like Shell, it probably did seem like the end of the world. Only a handful of people had ever managed to successfully cross this desert, from either direction, and the seas, north and south, were even more dangerous, full of krakens, sea serpents and ghost-lights. These natural barriers were nearly impenetrable, and they prevented the eastern and western halves of Iona Magister from conducting any kind of normal trade or pursuing any kind of diplomacy with one another. The east knew almost nothing of the west, and vice versa.

  "This was where Plint turned back," Shell said, referring to the author of the travel book she had been carrying around for months. "He wanted to go as far as the Riven Mountains, but his assistants refused."

  "Probably a wise decision," Sir Estil said. "The desert is no place for scriveners. The monsters here are strong, and there are rogues and thieves in the mountains."

  "Thieves?" Arai inquired.

  "Thieves, malcontents, and escaped criminals," he said. "Men and women who have had reason to flee Galleus, and to take their chances in the Riven."

  "I thought no one could live out there, because of the monsters," Shell said.

  "There are places in the high mountains where the magia is not so thick, where monsters do not materialize quite so frequently," he said. "It's a hard life, and they are under constant threat, but it is possible for hunters and mountain-men to eke out a living there. Bandits as well, but I imagine the pickings are pretty slim in the Tarnak."

  Arai frowned. The monsters and the forbidding desert environment were sure to be challenging enough; he didn't like the idea of having to contend with bandits and outlaws as well.

  In fact, now that they had arrived, he was beginning to wonder how, exactly, the four of them were going to make it across this desert. They had enough money to purchase supplies, and they had the Everlasting Chalice, which provided them with an unlimited supply of fresh water, but would their tents stand up to the fierce sandstorms that were said to rage through the desert? What if something happened to their mounts? What if they encountered these bandits? What if they lost their way? And what about the monsters? Silus was a potent weapon, capable of destroying most monsters with just a few strokes, but Arai was only one man, and he couldn't fight off whole legions of them on his own.

  He brooded on these things as they made their way into town. Sir Estil was in better spirits; the knight hadn't been to Bloodlorn in years and he was excited to see how much of it had changed. "It's actually grown a bit," he said. It was early morning, and the streets were bustling. "That's surprising."

  "We should find a place to stay," Arai said. "We don't want to head into the desert until we're sure we're prepared, and it could take a while to gather the supplies we'll need."

  "True enough," Sir Estil said. "Let's go see if Barker is still in business."

  "Barker?"

  "An old friend of mine. He owns a tavern on the southern edge of town, and he lets out rooms on the second floor."

  "Wouldn't it be easier to find an inn?" Lillandra asked.

  "There are no inns in Bloodlorn," he said. "They don't get many travelers out here."

  Arai supposed that made sense. So they turned and made their way south, guided by Sir Estil's (sometimes rather vague) memories of the place. At last, they found themselves standing outside one of the few two-story buildings in Bloodlorn -- a ramshackle-looking structure which seemed to have been cobbled together with bricks and clapboard, and which had been patched up here and there with globs of dried mud. They went inside.

  The interior was dark and dusty, and mostly empty -- it was very early, after all, and probably most of the tavern's patrons waited until the afternoon, at least, to start their drinking. There was a man standing behind the bar, though -- a tough-looking fellow with huge, hairy arms, and wearing a dirty apron. He was probably in his sixties.

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  The man started to greet them, in an absent sort of way, but stopped short when he saw Sir Estil. "It can't be," he muttered.

  "It is," Sir Estil said, approaching the bar. "How long has it been, Barker?"

  "Too long," he said, wiping one of his hands on the apron and offering it up for Sir Estil to shake. "What brings you out this way?"

  "It's a long story," he said tiredly. "How's life been treating you? How's Jina?"

  The man's smile faded just a bit. "Ah, she passed away six years ago."

  "I'm sorry to hear that."

  They spent a few minutes catching up -- Barker was full of news about his daughters and granddaughters -- before returning to the subject at hand. "What about you?" the tavernkeeper asked. "You didn't answer my question before -- what brings you all the way out here? And who are your friends?"

  Sir Estil introduced them all. "This is Arai, Lillandra, and Shell. We've been traveling together for several weeks."

  "Is that so?" Barker blinked a few times when he saw Shell -- elves were very uncommon this far west, Arai had noticed, and she had already been getting some curious looks from passersby. It would probably be even worse on the other side of the Scarred Lands, where elves barely existed outside of fairy tales. He hoped she wouldn't be too bothered by the extra attention she was sure to receive.

  "This is going to sound crazy," Sir Estil said, "but we're planning on making our way into the Tarnak. Arai and Lillandra come from a country called Velon, in the far west, and I swore to them that I'd see them home safe."

  "At your age?" he snorted. "You're never going to slow down, are you, Endsgrief?"

  "We were hoping the upstairs room might be available," Sir Estil. "We need a place to stay while we prepare for this expedition."

  "It's available," he said. "Are you sure about this, though? You know how hard it is to make it through the desert. Lady Melei has at least two dozen men and women in her party, and a full dodeci, and they're already having trouble. There's only four of you."

  "Lady Melei?"

  "Hadn't you heard? She's planning an expedition herself. They've got horses, camels, wagons, knights, even a sorcerer. But they haven't set out yet; they've been camped outside of town for weeks."

  "Who's Lady Melei?" Arai asked Sir Estil.

  "A young noblewoman from Tax Trium. She's a second or third cousin of King Arthorius."

  "Do you know her?"

  "I met her once, when she was a child. But that must have been twenty years ago. Her father arranged for her to marry Sir Carolus, one of the knights on the Council, but Carolus was an old man and he passed away when she was still a teenager. I don't believe she's remarried." He frowned, turning back to Barker. "You're saying she's here in Bloodlorn? And she's planning to cross the desert?"

  "Yes, but as I said, her expedition's already off to a rocky start. It's something to do with her alchemist."

  "Perhaps we should speak with her," Sir Estil said, intrigued.

  "You still want the upstairs room? It's a little dusty up there now, but I could have one of the girls clean it up for you."

  "That sounds fine."

  They left their luggage -- such as it was -- in Barker's rented room, then left the tavern and headed to the western edge of town, where Lady Melei's entourage was said to be camped out. "This is a stroke of luck," Sir Estil said.

  "It is?" Lillandra asked.

  "There's strength in numbers," he said. "We stand a much better chance of making it through the desert with a large group. If they'll agree to let us join them..." He let that hang.

  It sounded like a good idea to Arai -- attaching themselves to this group would save them the trouble of having to buy their own supplies and make their own preparations. And Sir Estil was right; a large, well-organized group probably stood a better chance of making it through the desert and over the mountains than two men, one woman, and a little elf girl.

  On the other hand, a larger group was likely to attract more attention. Monsters were drawn to human activity -- dragons, harpies, and other beasts were liable to attack a large caravan if they saw it. And Arai wasn't sure how the four of them -- particularly Lillandra -- would fit in with a larger group. Lillandra wasn't exactly easy company.

  It took them about twenty minutes to reach Lady Melei's camp, which consisted of at least a dozen large wagons and several tents. They had camels, horses, and oxen, the latter presumably for pulling the wagons, and there were bundles of supplies and trade goods stacked up everywhere. A handful of knights were stationed outside the camp, and Sir Estil spoke to one of these when they approached.

  "We'd like to speak with Lady Melei," he said. "The four of us are interested in joining your expedition."

  "Indeed?" He pointed to the largest wagon, a huge wooden box which was the size of a small house, and which had some kind of strange contraption affixed to its roof. A pair of long tubes, which looked like the hollowed-out horns of some great beast, were positioned on either side of the contraption; Arai had no idea what the device was or what it might be used for.

  "You'll find her in there," the knight told them. "Fair warning, though. She's in a bad mood."

  They proceeded to the wagon. Sir Estil knocked on the door. "My lady?"

  "It's about time," an angry female voice called out from within. "How long does it take to fry a couple of eggs? Well, get in here! I'm starving."

  Sir Estil was a little flustered. "I apologize, my lady," he said, "but I think you may have the wrong idea--"

  The door suddenly burst open. Standing in the threshold, glowering down at them, was a pretty young woman, a few years older than Arai, perhaps, with long, flowing red hair and a rather pale complexion. She was dressed like a man, in brown leather, and was wearing boots.

  She had obviously been expecting someone else, and she blinked when she saw them standing there. Her eyes soon fell on Sir Estil.

  "S-Sir Estil? Sir Estil Endsgrief? Is that really you?"

  "Lady Melei! I'm surprised you remember me! How wonderful to see you again."

  "What in the world are you doing out here? I heard you'd killed the Aeromancer, but--"

  "It's...complicated," he said.

  She closed the door behind her. "Well, then! Let's walk and talk. Have you eaten breakfast yet? I haven't. I sent Phile out twenty minutes ago to fetch me some..." She stopped there, trailing off when she caught sight of Arai. She gave him an appraising look. "And who is this?"

  "Arai," Arai greeted. "And this is Lillandra, and this is Shell."

  "Nice to meet you all," she said, although her eyes remained fixed on Arai. "You're friends of Sir Estil, I take it?"

  "You could say that." And Sir Estil proceeded to give the the young lady a brief account of all that happened to him since he had escaped the Dolorous with Arai and Lillandra. He told her that he had sworn himself to Arai's service, and that the four of them intended to try to cross the Scarred Lands. "I had no idea you were planning an expedition," he said. "We'd like to accompany you, if that's possible."

  "Well, I'm not against it," she said. "We could certainly use a few more knights."

  "I'm not a knight," Arai pointed out.

  "On the other hand," she went on, "I'm afraid it might be several weeks, maybe several months, before we get underway -- we still haven't acquired nearly enough maginite to get the radiator working. These desert monsters are much more resilient than I had expected."

  "Radiator?" Shell asked. "What's a radiator?"

  She grinned a roguish kind of grin. "The radiator," she said, "is the device that's going to see us safely across the desert. It's going to connect the eastern and western halves of Iona Magister permanently, opening up new trade routes for the first time since the Harrowing. And it's going to make me rich."