Free Brotherhood of the Wolf by David Farland

answer in a sturgeon’s eye. “Why don’t you ask them?”
    â€œIn a moment,” Gaborn promised. “I’ve never tried to use my Earth Sight on an animal before. Let me gather my thoughts first.”
    Some deep-green dragonflies buzzed past, and Myrrima and Iome stood hand in hand for several long moments, studying the runes that the fish drew. Myrrima noticed that each sturgeon had taken an area free of reeds and lily pads.
    Gaborn and Binnesman, meanwhile, discussed the meaning of the runes. One sturgeon kept tracing runes of protection next to some cattails. Gaborn said that another drew runes of purity near the center of the pond—a rune to cleanse the water. A third was sketching runes that Binnesman recognized as runes of healing. Over and over again.
    Farther away, a fish was moving in the depths of the moat, tracing runes that neither Gaborn nor Binnesman hadever seen before. Even Gaborn, a king raised in the Courts of Tide where water wizards were common, could not divine the purpose for all the runes. But Binnesman ventured a guess that the rune would make the water colder.
    â€œDo you think the water really is much colder?” Iome whispered to Myrrima.
    â€œI’ll see,” Myrrima said. She climbed down and touched the water, too, though no one else on the shore dared. Binnesman was right. It was bitterly cold, as cold and fresh as the deepest of mountain pools. And the shoreline in the moat was indeed higher than it had been this past week.
    Myrrima nodded to Iome. “It’s freezing!”
    Gaborn climbed down to a huge flat rock by Myrrima, leaned out over the glassy surface of the moat and began to trace runes on the water, simple runes of protection. He was mirroring the actions of the sturgeon.
    A great sturgeon swam up, just under his hand, its dark blue back close to Gaborn. Its gills expanded and contracted rhythmically as it studied him, watching his fingers as if they were something edible. The fish was tantalizingly close to Myrrima.
    â€œThat’s right. I’ll protect you if I can,” Gaborn whispered to the fish in an easy tone. “Tell me, what do you fear?”
    He continued drawing the runes, stared into the fish’s eyes, and into its mind, for long minutes. He frowned as if what he saw confused him. “I see darkness in the water,” he murmured. “I see darkness, and I taste metal. I can feel … strangulation. I can taste … metal. Redness coming.”
    The young King stopped speaking, almost seemed to stop breathing. His eyes lost their focus and rolled back in his head.
    â€œKing Orden,” Binnesman called, but Gaborn did not move.
    Myrrima wondered if she should grab Gaborn to keep him from falling in, but Binnesman climbed down to the water’s edge and touched his shoulder.
    â€œWhat?” Gaborn asked, rousing from his stupor. He leaned on the flat rock.
    â€œWhat is it they fear?” Binnesman asked.
    â€œThey fear blood, I think,” Gaborn said. “They fear that the river will fill with blood.”
    Binnesman drew his staff up tight against his chest and frowned, shaking his head in dismay.
    â€œI can’t believe that. There is no sign of an army approaching, and it would take a great battle to fill the river with blood. Raj Ahten is far away. But something odd
is
happening,” he said. “I’ve felt it all night. The Earth is in pain. I feel the pain like pinpricks on my flesh—north of here, in North Crowthen, and again far to the south. It trembles in far places, and there are slow movements even here, beneath our very feet.”
    Gaborn tried to make light of it. “Still, it comforts me to have these wizards here in our moat.” He turned and addressed the crowd of boys with their spears and bows and nets. “Let no man fish in this moat or foul its waters in any way. Let no one swim in it. These wizards will stay as our guests.”
    Gaborn