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Tomas glanced sideways at his friend. The boy he’d grown up with in Crydee had changed. There was a stillness now behind Pug’s eyes, like the surface of a deep well. The magician’s hands, bare despite the cold, rested on the pommel of no sword. He carried no blade.

The Duke’s patrol had been meant to ride only as far as the ford at Stone Creek. But the fog that rose from the creek did not lift. Instead, it thickened. And the horses began to shy. raymond e feist vk

Not one raven—hundreds. They descended from a sky the color of old lead, settling on the bare branches of thorn trees that had not been there a moment before. Pug stopped walking. Tomas glanced sideways at his friend

“Tomas. Look.”

Tomas felt the cold change. It was no longer winter’s cold. It was the cold of a tomb. The magician’s hands, bare despite the cold, rested

Varek laughed. It was not a pleasant sound.