He slapped his face once and blinked several times, regaining his sense of balance and shutting his inner eyes at the same time, returning his sight to the ordinary vision he had known over a lifetime. The magesight closed, the auras of the world around him concealed themselves. Things made a little more sense. To gauge the time, Marik poked his head past the loose flap that formed the low tent. Morning still lay several marks off. The troubling dream that had jerked him from his sleep faded from memory, leaving only this new matter to worry over. Why had he awakened with his mage senses fully active? That had never happened before. He lay back down between Dietrik and Kerwin, listening to the rainfall on the canvas ceiling, or he did when Landon’s snores kept from drowning it out. The fabric vibrated from the drops pounding against it above his head. These small army campaign tents might sleep four men, but they needed every available inch to do so. At least Landon’s snores were familiar. He listened to the sound and pondered.
