The man turned and made a reverent bow that stirred something within Samar Dev. ‘Your wisdom honours us, witch,’ he said. ‘Where,’ she asked, ‘is Iskar Jarak’s kingdom?’ Sudden tears in the man’s eyes. ‘An answer we yearn to find. It is lost—’ ‘In the unfound time.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Iskar Jarak was a Mezla.’ ‘Yes.’ Samar Dev opened her mouth for one more question, then realized that it wasn’t necessary. She knew its answer. Instead, she said, ‘Boatfinder, tell me, from the frozen time into the flowing time, is there a bridge?’ His smile was wistful, filled with longing. ‘There is.’ ‘But you cannot
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