The Raging Fires (28 page)

Instantly, the pool erupted in a swirl of blue flames. When, a moment later, they faded into the rising steam, the face of the hag had vanished. I continued watching the pool, leaning against my staff.

Hallia’s resonant voice broke the stillness. “Merlin?”

I turned to face her. How it delighted me to see those eyes again! I felt a new surge of gratitude that she had escaped harm. And, to my surprise, something else, deeper than gratitude.

“Do you recall,” she asked softly, “that moment in the oracle’s cave, when I said you had a certain kind of power?”

“I do. And I also recall you couldn’t put any name to it.”

She nodded slowly. “Well, now I can. Call it the power of understanding. Of leaping across barriers, finding meaning in tracks. And as strong as a dragon, or a kreelix, or even a Galator may be, that’s something even stronger. For all their power, it’s really a power still higher.”

Twirling the string from my psaltery, I almost smiled.

“Don’t forget, though,” she added with a nudge. “Even a great wizard needs two boots, not just one.”

I wiggled the toes of my bare foot. “Unless, of course, he can run like a deer.”

She watched me thoughtfully. “Or fly . . . like a young hawk.”