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with thorns. But once through, he found a series of switchbacks climbing up the slope. He moved with no plan, but trudged steadily upward. Before long, sweat streamed down the small of his back, and he was breathing heavily. As exhaustion overcame anticipation, he stopped to rest. For all the distance he'd covered, the pass seemed farther away. He'd need provisions to reach it and some rope. But as his breathing returned to normal, he realized the pass was no illusion-it was real and possible to reach.
    As he sat on a high ledge, he glanced back to gauge how far he'd come. Then he saw it below-the village of Little Pond. The place that had been home for all his life looked tiny from here, but he could make out details: his father's farm and the village commons.
    And suddenly his circumstance became clear.
    The sun was approaching midday. Within an hour, the blessing would commence. His absence would embarrass his father, who was an elder. And in the bright glare of the sun, he knew coming here was an act of cowardice. Whatever might happen, he should never have run from the fear of it.
    Forgetting his discovery, he turned downhill and raced back to the village.
    ***
    Breathless and hot despite the chill, Nathaniel rushed into the square. A few villagers lingered, but most had returned to their homes. He relaxed when he saw the altar bare. The vicar was gone.
    But relief turned to concern when he picked up a murmur among those who remained. He approached neighbors and asked what had happened, but they only shook their heads. He searched for someone more familiar, finally spotting Susannah Weber, whose face had gone pale as chalk.
    "What's happened?" he asked. "Tell me what's happened."
    His panic spread when he saw her cheeks moist with tears.
    "Oh Nathaniel, first my sweet young man and now my daughter." When he continued to stare, she cried out, "Orah has been taken."

Chapter Nine
    Temple City
    Nathaniel knew what he needed to do, but his father forbid him to go. Rather than disobey directly, he waited until the wee hours of the morning before filling his pack and leaving a note.
    "I have to go after Orah. Please don't worry."
    Now his legs stretched until his muscles sang. By leaving before sunrise, he'd cut their lead in half. He hoped to make up the rest with his long stride. Whenever his legs began to tire, he pictured Orah in the teaching cell and pushed harder.
    He paused to rest beside one of the temple trees that loomed over the landscape. He'd been taught that these towers wrapped in branches were a miracle of the light, possessed of magic and to be avoided. But his father told him of a more practical use. Always at intervals of ten thousand paces, they provided a good way to measure distance. Two hours apart at a normal stride, but he'd passed the last few in less. If only he could keep up this pace.
    He sucked in a breath and started off again.
    Thomas had tried to stop him. No one can prevail against the vicars, he said. They were too strong, the fear they instilled in the people too great. But Nathaniel had no fear of a teaching now. Nothing could shame him more than this-after waiting his whole life, he'd failed his first test of courage. He'd run away, and the vicar had chosen Orah in his stead. Now he was paying the price.
    Like the knight of his dreams, he'd charge into Temple City, but this time, he had no doubt what to do. He'd go to the vicars and offer himself up in her place.
    ***
    "Let us record the first teaching of Orah Weber of Little Pond. Blessed be the light. Orah, do you understand why you're here?"
    Orah gazed up at the three men and forced herself to match their stares.
    "No, my lord, I do not. I've done nothing wrong."
    "It's not the doing of wrong we concern ourselves with, but the tendency to make choices that might allow the darkness to return. You do know what the darkness is?"
    "Yes sir. The darkness is the time before the light, a time of chaos and death."
    The vicar in the center wore