Excerpt: In the Forests of the Night

Flames ahead told him he'd finally reached the village. Hiro realized belatedly he should have paid more attention--getting lost would have been the crowning triumph of a wasted day. Then he realized the flames weren't where they should be. Unless the day was a Pran festival he'd never heard of?

No. Madame Ghee's was on fire. Hiro ran. When he came out of the trees, he leaped.

Mob. A blasted mob surrounded Madame Ghee's with torches and shouts, and the Pran stood tied in her own robe while the inn caught flame and men with pitchforks sought to hold Daita and her family inside.

Hiro leaped to the first roof where no villager could reach him and called the fire. Reached for the orphan, and called it again.

Down in spirals it came, bumping and rubbing against him like a loving cat. Hiro gathered it and patted it small and sent it shooting into the cloudy night. Then he called again, and the flames of the torches came to him. This fire he held as he turned to face the villagers who had gone silent. He gave them a long moment to stare at a man who'd come from nowhere, holding their own fire above his head. And just for a bit more effect, he let the orphan set his hair aflame.

"This house," he said, "will never burn." He shaped the fire into a spear and grounded the butt of it on his foot. "Go home," he commanded. "There will be no deaths here tonight."