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transformed the block of near-impenetrable
material, had transferred that power into the
emerging broom itself.
“Where’d you leave yours?” Manon asked.
Asterin shrugged. “Somewhere at
Blackbeak Keep.”
Manon nodded. Hers was currently
discarded in the back of a closet in her room
at her grandmother’s seat of power. She’d
thrown it in there after magic had vanished,
the broom little more than a cleaning tool
without it.
“I suppose we won’t be retrieving them
now,” Asterin said.
“No, we won’t,” Manon said, scanning the
skies. “We fly with the Crochans to Eyllwe
tomorrow. To rendezvous with whatever
human war band they’re to meet.”
Asterin’s mouth tightened. “Perhaps we’ll
convince all of them—the Crochans, the