She dreamed of Thornhaven that night—the first dream in months. She was walking through the market district, where she had bought groceries every week for eight years, and the vendors were calling out their wares in the old way, the way that rhymed and played with language, the way that made ordinary commerce into something almost musical. She bought a peach from a woman she had known for years, and the peach was warm from the sun and sweet beyond description, and she bit into it and felt the j...