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thought of the way magicians studied their tattoos in order to cast a spell. But his skin had lost its tattoos — most of them, anyway — and the few that remained were located on his chest and stomach.
    The muscles in her chest squeezed as horrible ideas formed in her head. Then she saw a thin light appear on Tommy’s arm. The light held the shape of an old tattoo — wavy lines surrounding a short spiral — and then it disappeared.
    Tommy stood and pointed into the dark.
    Grabbing his arm, Malja looked over his skin. Not a single mark. “How did you do that?”
    Fawbry walked over. “Is that what you’ve been practicing at each morning?”
    “What?” Malja asked.
    “Every morning when you went hunting for food, Tommy would sit calm and stare at his arms. I thought he was mourning the loss of his spell tattoos, or maybe he was meditating. I didn’t think he was practicing his magic.”
    Back to Tommy, Malja said, “Is that right? Are you practicing magic again?” She knew how horrible she sounded, how hypocritical and wrong. But some attitudes could not be changed overnight.
    Tommy wriggled his arm free and pointed into the dark again.
    “Looks like he’s found whoever we’re looking for,” Fawbry said.
    Tommy raised and lowered his head with hard, emphatic motions. Then he waved for them to follow, and before Malja could protest, he dashed off.
    Malja and Fawbry followed close behind. They rushed down a small hill, crossed a dry riverbed, and climbed a smaller hill. They weaved around the rock formations that jutted from the ground. At length, they reached the edge of a sparse forest that looked more like a failed orchard than a thriving wilderness. Tommy sidestepped behind a dead tree and motioned for the others to do the same.
    Squatting by a tree four feet over, Malja cocked her head in the direction Tommy pointed. Fawbry stood over her, his breathing loud to her ear. She elbowed him, and he scurried off to find his own tree.
    As she turned back, she caught sight of two shadows — no, three — not far off, huddled close. Harsh whispers traveled back and forth between the shadows like a nasty negotiation. One shadow shifted back a step, and the moonlight caught a woman’s figure. She slid back into the dark and pulled out a bag from her robe. The other shadows grabbed the bag and inspected its contents closely.
    Fawbry and Tommy had been right about the secret meeting, but Malja could not hear the whisperings well enough to know what they were discussing. A payoff had been made, but did any of it matter? Secret meetings and payoffs happened all the time in her world. Why should this one be so different? But if, as Fawbry had said, these shadowed figures mentioned Malja or Tommy or even Fawbry, that would change matters.
    We should sneak closer. Just to make sure.
    Malja signaled Tommy that she wanted to push forward. He nodded. She looked the other way for Fawbry and saw him inhaling deeply, arching back, and making a face that could only mean one thing — he was about to sneeze.
    He did his best to muffle the sound. But in the stillness — where was a gust of wind when she needed one? — the short bursting sneeze magnified significantly. All three shadows lifted their heads toward Fawbry.
    Only one thing to do. “Catch them,” Malja commanded and shot toward the woman.
    Not three steps in, a blinding white light flashed. Malja had to drop to the ground. The light pierced straight through her eyes into her brain. Though no sound followed this brightness, Malja heard ringing in her ears.
    She managed to get back up, rubbing her eyes, and stumbling ahead. As her eyes readjusted to the dark, she saw two of the shadows rush in her direction. She readied Viper, though she could only squint enough to see a blurry tree before her.
    The shadows went right past her. Over her, really — leaping or diving, she couldn’t tell. Whatever the case, the two shadows — two magicians — were gone.
    “What