 
Journey to Light

Part I of

The High Duties of Pàçia

By Bob Craton

Copyright 2011 by Bob Craton

Registered with the U.K. Copyright Service

(Registration # 284655025)

All Rights Reserved

Smashwords Edition

Preface

Long ago in a time known as the Anziên age, people lived in a complex and vibrant society which reached levels of technology and genetic engineering unimaginable to anyone now alive. Then 3,500 years ago, the Anziên era ended abruptly and traumatically. Why? No one knows but the downfall left survivors in a world of strife and hardship. This world badly needed peace and tranquility.

The only bright spot came in a land called Pàçia. Physically separated from the rest of the world by high mountains, the gentle nature of the Pàçian people set them apart from all others. They built the beautiful city Abbelôn and chose the wisest and kindest among them as leaders. These selected few had no power or authority. They could command no one and certainly were not monarchs. They did not rule; they fulfilled duties – the High Duties of Pàçia. The High Protector kept peace through persuasion; the Benevola cared for and comforted everyone; and the Keeper protected the people from harm. Generation after generation, they made the world a better place. But their strength gradually weakened and three and a half millennia is a very long time.

Outside Pàçia, the population grew and cities, both greater and lesser, arose. The Great Cities were ruled by powerful despots who increasingly ignored lessons of peace and goodwill. Worse, new enemies invaded part of the land. But were they really new or were they terrors returned from a forgotten past?

In this environment, the story begins.

***

Cast of Characters

Sistére Graice Nínjìng: A young woman of unusual appearance. Small in stature but powerful in effect, her level of ability and talent at such a young age is unprecedented in the history of the Sistéria.

Holder: A man who suffered a head injury twelve years earlier and remembers nothing before that time. Since then, he has worked for trading companies on caravans along with his older friend Dimas. As the story begins, Holder has just lost both his friend and his job.

Caelia: A girl living in a hidden community. Despite her youth, she is widely loved and respected by the people of her home. Her name comes from heroic legends dating back in antiquity to the first post-Anziên days.

The Boy: A lad raised in secret who as a child is aware only of life with his Grammi and Pappi in a remote cottage. They and his Aunt are the only family he knows.

Other Important Characters:

Madrére Sybille Sabidora: Most Senior Madrére in the Sistéria and mentor of Graice.

Rafe (a lupun) and Belo (a kiropteran): Two friends who have been forced away from their home in Hinterland.

Ignacio: Long-time assistant and friend of Sybille.

Euclind Eudoxio: Mayórę of the city of Lucidus. Also a scholar, inventor, and gatherer of secret intelligence; he is widely referred to as the Wise One.

Radbert: Euclind's reliable and dedicated assistant.

Patron Edric and Patroness Gildea: Royal sovereigns of Matik.

Escol Chancelar: The Dozent of a colony of researchers living and working in a hidden place and de-facto leader of others sheltering there. Father of Caelia, husband of Binah.

Binah Emerick: Counselor, healer, comforter. She is a descendant of one of the five Honor Families of Pàçia. Wife of Escol, mother of Caelia.

The Zafiri (also called the men in gray): Mysterious men who took over the remote region of Zigor a century earlier, forcing the native population (and many others kidnapped elsewhere) into harsh slavery. The Yuzoi and Sarkonians are minions of the Zafiri.

CHAPTER 1

The Little Boy

In the dream, people screamed in fear and pain. The tiny boy, barely old enough to stand and walk, cried as frantic men and women ran in through the open door. He did not know – could not know – what was happening. He toddled to the door and looked out to see . . .

In bed, the boy trembled. His terrified mind wanted to escape, to run away from the awful dream, but his body could not wake. Then the dream changed.

Someone held him and calmed his fear. Someone warm and loving. The evil part of the dream faded. When the sun rose, the nightmare was gone but the good part, the woman who held him, remained.

***

Fabiyan stood in the kitchen doorway of the small cabin and watched as Grammi peeled spuds at the table. When she finally noticed him, she gave him a big smile. "There's my sweet boy," Grammi said and she reached out for a hug as he walked to her. Both arms went around him as she squeezed but she was careful with the paring knife in her right hand. When she finished soaking up his warmth, she took a breath of his fragrance and asked, "Are you hungry? Do you need a glass of milk?" She tried to rise from the bench as she spoke but Fabiyan still had his arms around her neck and he held on.

"I got a drink already. At the well," he told her. "And I can get things myself. I'm a big boy now." If possible, her smile would have widened. "Pappi said I could come in from the field," he added to explain his presence.

"Why is it that when you come in from working outside, you always smell as sweet as new-mown hay, but when your grandfather comes inside he stinks like he has dead fish in his armpits?" she asked. It wasn't true in either case but it still made him laugh. He moved to the other side of the table and sat down facing her.

"Pappi said I should do something for you now," he told her.

"You can help peel," she said as she handed him a small knife and stacked a few spuds in front of him. He set to work. Making conversation, Grammi said, "Your half-birthday is next week. Think of something special you'd like me to cook for you."

"But it's Autumnal Month now and my birthday is in Vernal Month. That's not soon."

"I said half-birthday, honey. That's half way between your fifth birthday and your sixth. Do you remember the red-berry pie I made when you turned five?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Well, in half a year you'll be six," she explained. Fabiyan suspected that this half-birthday idea was just something Grammi made up to please him, but the memory of her special treats meant the boy would never object to any pretend holidays. Lost in a reverie of past tastes and smells, he kept scraping his knife across the same part of the spud over and over. Grammi saw and smiled. "You can have anything you want," she told him.

He grinned, but suddenly a totally unrelated thought entered his head. This time he laid his paring knife down on the table. His grin changed into a very serious look.

"I dreamed about my mother last night," he told her.

"Oh," Grammi said as she struggled to keep any note of surprise out of her voice. Her smile vanished. "How do you know it was your mother and not some other woman, my darling?"

"I just knew."

"I see. Well, what do you remember about the dream?"

"I was sitting in her lap. She was warm and her clothes were soft to touch. Her arms were around me," Fabiyan said as he gazed at a blank spot on the wall. Then he looked in Grammi's eyes. "My mother was beautiful, wasn't she?"

"Oh yes, very beautiful. You've heard me and Pappi say that before. Aunt Estelinda thinks so too, even if she won't admit it."

"Did mother look like Aunt Estelinda?" Fabiyan asked, and his eyebrows moved together in an expression of concern. Grammi laughed out loud.

"No, no," she assured him. "Your mother looked wonderful – nothing at all like your aunt. Estelinda was always jealous despite being the older sister."

Now something else worried Fabiyan and he said, "Sometimes I think you and Pappi don't like Aunt Estelinda very much."

"That's not true, honey. We just don't have much in common with her." Grammi was serious now.

"I like her. She lets me ride her horse." The boy meant that Estelinda sometimes let him sit behind her and hold on while she rode.

"I wish she wouldn't do that. You could get hurt. She treats you much too rough. Sometimes I think she wants you to grow up to be a warrior."

Fabiyan looked down at the table to hide his grin. He knew what both Grammi and Estelinda thought about warriors, and they didn't agree. He had his own opinion too but there was no point in telling Grammi about it. Then he remembered something else from last night.

"In the dream, my mother's hair came down and the ends tickled my nose. It was funny. Her hair was softer even than her clothes and it was very bright and shiny. It was different than mine, wasn't it, Grammi?"

"Don't worry about it, sweet boy. You got your dark color from your father. Pappi and I had the same shade, too, before ours turned gray."

"Aunt Estelinda has dark hair and it's short, not like my mother's in the dream," said Fabiyan. Then he pondered for a moment. "Do you and Pappi not like her because you're my father's parents and she my mother's sister?"

Grammi sighed. "We really do like her, and she likes us too. It's true, Fabiyan. It's just that sometimes your aunt can be, well, a little brusque."

"What's brusque?"

"Umm, that she's blunt spoken and a bit gruff. That's not bad. It's just the way she is. That makes other people speak the same way back to her sometimes but that doesn't mean they don't like her. It just sounds a little bad to sweet boys who don't know how grownups talk," she said as she reached across the table in an attempt to tickle him. She couldn't reach far enough but he squirmed and giggled anyway.

"I like my aunt," Fabiyan affirmed again.

"I know. She lets you ride her horse."

"She lets me do other things, too," he said with another grin.

Oh no, thought Grammi, but she kept those word silent. She said, "I just don't want you to get hurt and she lets you do risky things. I tell her often to be gentler but she doesn't listen to me. She's very hard-headed."

"And strong, too."

"Yes, we all know that," agreed Grammi. "Well, are we finished talking about this?"

Fabiyan wasn't. "Why can't I remember more?"

"Because you were just a baby when everything happened, honey, and no one can remember things from that age. It's not your fault," she assured him. But Fabiyan still had one more thing to say.

"My mother called me something last night. Like she was saying my name, but it wasn't Fabiyan." He looked up quickly when Grammi made a noise. Something was bothering her.

"It must have been Lovekin," she blurted out. "That was her pet name for you. She used it instead of your real name sometimes. Yes, that's it. It must have been Lovekin that you heard."

Fabiyan wasn't so sure, but something about Grammi's face made him just nod and go back to peeling spuds.

Fabiyan was a good boy almost all of the time but that night he stayed awake in bed pretending to sleep and heard Grammi and Pappi talking in the next room. He couldn't make out any words until he remembered the knothole in a board low on the wall. He knelt in the floor and put his ear next to the hole.

"He hasn't said anything before about . . . ," he heard someone say. The voice was so soft and indistinct that he wasn't sure which grandparent was speaking.

". . . why now . . ."

"How can he still remember anything? It's been four years." This was a little louder and he recognized Pappi's voice. The response was quieter.

". . . I'm surprised too . . . awful day . . . isn't just a dream."

"I know . . . shouldn't have said . . . reminds him more . . ."

"Couldn't help . . ."

". . . If he remembers then he needs to keep secrets . . . aunt should come . . ."

"Yes I know . . . loves him too."

". . . would listen to her better than us . . . tomorrow . . ."

Fabiyan concluded that Aunt Estelinda might come tomorrow. Having heard something he liked, he crept back under the covers and went to sleep.

Not wanting to miss a moment, Fabiyan waited patiently outside the cottage so he could see down the lane. The nearest neighbors were pretty far away; and when Estelinda got past their home, she always charged her horse, Glori, at full speed just so Fabiyan could watch. He wasn't disappointed. Hearing the thundering hooves first, he saw the horse and rider burst into sight on the dirt lane. Glori ran like lightning and his aunt leaned forward over the horse's neck while thrusting one fist into the air.

"Faabiyaaann!" she cried, and the boy laughed at the funny way she stretched his name out. Grammi and Pappi both hurried out of the house just in time to get splattered with dirt as Glori's hooves dug in and the horse came to an abrupt stop. None of it got on Fabiyan, however. Estelinda leaped down and grabbed him in a great bear hug. Lifting him up, she shook him around until he laughed. "My little man!" she called him and he clung tightly to her neck, not caring that the buckles of her leather jerkin dug into his ribs.

"Be careful!" Grammi said as she stepped closer to the much taller Estelinda, frowning and clucking her displeasure as she moved.

"I'm always careful," Estelinda insisted as she released the boy back to the ground. When she saw the increasing disapproval on the old woman's face, Estelinda changed her voice in a way that made Fabiyan laugh. She was trying to sound like Grammi. "Why, hello Estelinda. So good to see you. You're welcome in our home anytime." Switching her voice back to normal, she continued. "Thank you, good Theo and Naomi." (Fabiyan knew those were Pappi and Grammi's names.) "You're very kind and I'm grateful to you. You're as much my family as you are Fabiyan's."

Pappi seemed amused at the clowning, but Grammi scowled until she noticed the expression on the boy's face and tried to improve her look. "Do come inside," she said.

"We do need to talk, don't we?" Estelinda replied. "But first things first. Fabiyan, Glori is thirsty. Take her around to the pond and let her drink."

"By myself?" The boy's eyes went wide with excitement.

"Why not? She likes you and will do whatever you tell her."

"Is that wise?" asked Pappi. "Such a powerful beast could . . ."

"Glori will never hurt him," interrupted Estelinda. "She recognizes his scent and remembers who he is. She understands he's family. It's all right, Fabiyan. Go ahead."

As the boy came close, Glori lowered her head to nuzzle against his hair. He raised his arms to hug as much of the great mare as he could reach. Smiling happily, he walked around Glori to check for burrs in her fur as his aunt had taught him. (Well, to check the lower portions of the big animal within his view, anyway.) Rubbing his hand down her sleek silver side, Fabiyan saw that she wasn't sweating. One dashing sprint could never tire the mighty Glori, he knew. It didn't even heat her up.

"Be careful," Pappi called to Fabiyan as the boy approached the rear of the horse.

"Stop worrying," Estelinda said. "She won't kick him. In fact, watch her tail." The tough leather-whipcord tail could snap and sting a man's skin but it held still until Fabiyan gave it a gentle tug. Then it wagged like a dog's. When he finished his circuit and took the reins, Fabiyan looked up at his aunt who smiled down at him. "Go ahead and lead her to the pond. You don't have to hurry."

"We'll be inside," Grammi added.

Estelinda nudged her and whispered, "Smile at him." Grammi did her best.

"Is he out of earshot?" Estelinda asked when they were inside the cottage.

"Yes, and he's walking slowly," Pappi confirmed as he looked out the window and then turned back to face the younger woman. He was taller than his wife but still had to look up to Estelinda.

"Good. Tell me about the dream."

Grammi described every detail that Fabiyan had mentioned and then added, "I always hoped he would forget everything, but he hasn't."

"And I always said you were foolish to wish for that. Now you see I was right," snapped Estelinda. Then she caught herself and softened her tone. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be rude. Well, it doesn't matter anyway. The only important thing is to protect the boy."

"And yourself," said Pappi.

"No. I made my decision at the beginning of all this. In fact, I had a dream of my own the night I received your message saying that he lived and the vision was perfectly clear. The boy is the one. Everyone knew that before, and it's still true." She did not say before what, but they all knew. "I'm going to help him every way I can no matter what the risk."

"We really do need to decide what to tell Fabiyan now," said Grammi. "You were right, Estelinda. It's wrong to just hope he won't remember but we can't tell him too much at this age either."

"I know," Estelinda agreed. "We have to tell him something, and whatever we say must be the truth even if not all of it. Then we have to trust him to keep secrets. I would rather be doing this when he's older, but he is brighter and more mature than other children. I'm certain he'll understand."

After a pause, Pappi said, "We think you should be the one who talks to him."

"Yes, it must be me. Family blood binds, as they say. He'll pay attention to me and take this seriously. You'll see. He'll do just fine and turn out even better than we expected."

"How could anyone be better than we expected?" asked Pappi.

As Estelinda walked away from the cottage, she saw Fabiyan leading the horse home. The boy's shoes were muddy and his pants legs were soaked up to the knees. Glori always stepped into the water to drink and the mare was much taller than him despite the fact that the boy was big for a child who was not yet six. Not surprising he's tall, Estelinda thought to herself. Height runs in the family.

"We don't have to go inside yet," Estelinda said when she reached him. "Let's take Glori and go find a nice place to sit in the meadow and talk." They strolled until Estelinda found a spot that suited her. In the open meadow, no one could get close enough to overhear without being seen. She hesitated just a moment to organize her thoughts and thus let Fabiyan have a chance to speak first.

"Grammi said you were jealous of my mother because she was prettier."

"What?" exclaimed his aunt. For a moment she wasn't certain whether she should be offended or just amused, but the look on the boy's face made it impossible to get upset with him.

"She said my mother didn't look like you," Fabiyan replied.

"Wait a minute! That's not . . .," she began but she stopped herself. "Well, it is true that she didn't look the way I do now, but believe it or not, I was beautiful myself back then. I didn't look anything at all like a man and I wore nice dresses."

"Really?"

"Don't seem so surprised, my boy. My hair was a lot longer and prettier then, too. I grew up having no reason at all to envy anyone. That is, not until my little sister came along and showed everyone that I was only the second most beautiful girl in the world." She smiled and shrugged. "But what could I do?"

"Did you get jealous?"

"Yes, I admit I did sometimes, but it didn't do me any good. She was nicer than me too and people liked her better."

Fabiyan studied her face and said, "I think people liked you, too." She laughed and reached out to ruffle his hair. As she did, she lifted a few strands with her fingers and looked underneath. Just the way Grammi did. Fabiyan continued searching her face.

"I need to be serious now and tell you something, my dear," she told him.

"About my dream?"

"Yes, that's right. The dream means you remember things and you'll probably recall more as time goes by. I don't think you'll recollect anything big and important, just little things that a baby might notice. The same as it was this time. But sometimes bad pictures might come into your head and scare you. Honey, you were a toddler when it happened and no one that age could understand what you saw."

"When what happened?" he asked. Estelinda hesitated but she had already decided she was going to get the words out no matter what.

"Fabiyan, I think you already know this somewhere down deep inside yourself, but no one has ever told you honestly." She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. "Your mother died, my dearest boy, and so did your father. On the same day. If you ever dream about that day, it will frighten you badly. If that happens, you run as fast as you can to Grammi, or Pappi or me. No one else! Just let us hug you as tight as we can. Do you understand?"

He nodded slowly, causing one small tear to leak from his eye. His lips trembled but he didn't cry out loud.

"There's something else, Fabiyan. Whatever you do dream about must be kept secret. Grammi, Pappi, and I are the only three people in the world you can talk to. I want you to promise that you'll never say anything about our family to anyone, but first I want to tell you something. In our family, 'promise' is a very important word. We never say it unless we really mean it so never make a promise unless you're truly going to keep it."

"I promise," he said as he looked deep in her eyes.

Estelinda was certain he would. She could see it in his face. After all, he was far ahead of any other child his age in so many ways. She undid the buckles on her jerkin and took it off. The shirt underneath was much softer. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close. He clasped tightly around her neck and buried his face into the hollow of her shoulder. After a long time, his soft voice spoke.

"Aunt Estelinda, what name did my mother call me in the dream?"

She sobbed, one quick hard spasm, and whispered, "I can't tell you, my love. Not yet."

~EIGHT YEARS LATER~

CHAPTER 2

Graice and Holder

Once there was a place of exceeding beauty where kind and gentle people lived. A city of white sat on a hill overlooking a green plateau while picture-book mountains that seemed almost too perfect to be real surrounded all. When the setting sun was low in the west and its last rays struck the city's milky walls, every building glowed as if made of gold. People there lived in such harmony that even the birds sang of peace. For millennia, these good folk chose the wisest and most benevolent leaders to fulfill the Duties of guiding them along the path of tranquility and setting an example for the world to follow. Despite a lack of wealth or power, the leaders of this lovely land were so highly respected that for ages they exerted a moral influence across all the lands East of the Sea. And this was not a once-upon-a-time story. The place and people were real.

Matik, however, was NOT that place. Located far from any picturesque scenery or virtuous people, Matik was an immense Urb-Magnia – a Great City with a history measured in centuries rather than millennia. The River divided the splendor of the north-side where the high-and-mighty lived from the squalor of the south-side where nobody at all of importance lived. Patron Edric IV's northern palace was the grandest of them all, where (to be frank) his wife Patroness Gildea actually ruled. At the opposite end of the spectrum, the dockyards of the inner port lay along the southern bank of the River near where the lowest of the plebian masses crammed into the worst slums of the city. Since many of those masses chose to spend much of their miniscule incomes in the pursuit of dissipated vices, tawdry pleasures, and blind inebriation, iniquitous businesses accommodating their needs crowded the area, especially along the loathsome streets nearest the waterfront.

Along one such street walked a young woman wearing a white robe with a red sash.

Sistére Graice ignored the stench as she marched down the Lane of Low Entertainments, or Drunken Scum Street as it was more widely known. Describing this street as filthy was an understatement. It would require massive cleaning by hundreds of workers over years of time before it improved enough to qualify as merely 'filthy.' Needless to say, no such concentrated effort was anticipated.

Graice could not avoid looking down, of course. One watched carefully where one's feet stepped or else one burned one's shoes upon reaching home, preferably on the neighbor's side of the property line. As a further complication, this day she wore formal slippers on her small feet instead of the sturdy shoes she would have chosen had she anticipated taking this short cut. Her last assignment had taken longer than expected and twilight was upon her, however, and she had urgent business to discuss with Madrére Sybille back at the Sistérian Way-House. All the streets in this area were poorly lit after dark, and despite Drunken Scum Street's utter lack of charm, it was still the shortest route.

As she sidestepped a dung pile which was too fetid for any self-respecting horse to have dropped, she suddenly noticed that her skirt was dragging the ground. Whenever she walked any distance, she always hiked up the red sash around her waist to raise the hem of her robe just enough to keep it from dragging the ground. This time, as frequently happened, she had forgotten to readjust the sash as she continued. The slenderness of her waist and hips made it easy for a belt of any type to slide down and thus lower the hem along with it. Now the bottom finger-length of her white garment looked horrid.

Moving quickly, she reached down around her knees and pulled her skirt up to shake it clean. (It was made of Sistérian robe-cloth, of course, rather than ordinary.) Just as the robe shed the last of the stains, she suddenly realized what she was doing and immediately Madrére Antonetta's harsh voice rang out sharply inside her head. 'Graice, you foolish girl, you're showing your legs in public. Stop immediately! You're not a child anymore and you must remember these things. Look! Men of very dubious nature are all around and can see you!' Even though Antonetta had not been Graice's disciplinarian since the girl had left School to go to Academy nine years earlier, this Madrére's voice was the one which Graice always heard anytime she committed some infraction against propriety.

"Sorry, Madrére Antonetta," Graice mumbled as she dropped her skirt. The woman presumably could not hear the apology, she being many leagues away now, but it never hurt to be overly cautious whenever this particular Madrére was involved. Glancing around, Graice noticed there were indeed many men on the street – and plenty of dubious women also. None seemed to have noticed her faux pas, however. Not that they were likely to. This was an area where people avoided making eye contact with a wearer of the red sash. Besides, the immodest appearance and scant clothing of most of the women in sight made few men prone to spend time ogling a fully robed Sistére, especially one who was petite enough to sometimes be mistaken at a distance for a girl rather than the young women she was.

She adjusted her hem again as she walked, showing the slippers but not the ankles. Then she sighed, realizing she could not avoid replaying the memory of another incident involving her legs, a man, and Antonetta. Graice had just turned fifteen and was in her last term at Superior Median School; the Mentors had already decided to send her to Academy soon, three years earlier than normal. That day she had finished her lessons before the other girls, as always, and had gone outside to work in the garden behind Avont House. It being a warm day and she having no reason to suspect a man in the garden, she wore short-breeches and a hip-length smock. As she picked lettuce and herbs, she heard the pounding of horse hooves and looked up to see a post-rider dashing at full speed towards her on the garden path. As the man came within ten strides of her, he pulled his horse to an abrupt stop. His head swiveled to look at her, then back the way he had come, and then at her again. Anyone could see that he had made a wrong turn and had mistakenly ridden to the garden instead of the front of the House where the office was.

Graice expected the man to reverse course and leave. So did his horse (a sensible animal mindful of its duty and undistracted by youthful beauty) which chafed and tried to turn back on its own, obviously impatient at the interruption in completing its appointed rounds. But the rider pulled hard on the reins to keep his mount standing still. The man openly stared at Graice. His eyes moved from her face down to her ankles and then back up again. Even though aware that her slender legs were exposed from the knees down to her bare feet, young Graice was not intimidated. She reacted silently and the man felt an intense guilt feeling. His face flushed deep red and his eyes looked down. He was ready to flee from Graice's effect, but an instant before he left, Antonetta's voice came from the door of the garden house.

'Rider! Remove yourself immediately!'

Antonetta's ordinary words of censure routinely broke glasses and knocked books off shelves. The windows in the Girls' Common Room had special singe-resistant draperies, and its walls were left unpainted because it was too much trouble to re-paint every time a layer peeled off. And this time her voice was louder, harsher, and more eviscerating than ever before. She had never used such a strong tone with the girls, not even Graice. Just as bad, Antonetta gave the man her Glare along with the Voice. (With this Madrére, the words were always capitalized.) The blaze from her eyes could burn a man's skin red at one hundred paces (or so everyone believed) and since the rider was considerably closer than that, he undoubtedly needed days for the blisters on his face to heal afterwards. Likewise, her words shook him roughly and rattled the kidneys inside him (as it appeared from the end result, anyway). He lost the strength in his arms, his hands went numb, and he dropped the reins. Now free from the impediment caused by its foolish rider, the horse heeded Antonetta's words instantly. Even though she had directed nothing at the animal itself, its hide was still pretty warm just due to its proximity to the actual target. Wisely, the prudent creature fled the scene at maximum speed with the offending man holding on for dear life.

'Come inside, youngling,' Antonetta said in a calmer and less accusatory tone and Graice hurried toward her.

Now, Graice said to herself, "My own memories chastise me when I'm bad," as she walked on down Drunken Scum Street. "I just wish they would speak up before I make mistakes rather than afterward. Antonetta could've said something in advance before I pulled my skirt up just now." Smiling ruefully, she glanced around and saw that still no one looked at her, although a passing mutt did glance up. "Don't worry. I'm not crazy," she assured the dog. Then she laughed, remembering how eager the other girls had been to hear her vivid description of Antonetta's effect on the rider. Yes, Graice had told that story many times – and it got better with each telling.

Up to this point on her walk, Graice had ignored the decrepit tenements on either side of her in the same manner that she paid no heed to the stench. The actions and calls of the, ah, dubious women standing in doorways made the nature of their business quite clear; and raucous laughter, hostile shouts, and other noises came from the many bars and saloons along the street. Customers, Graice knew, usually stayed until every last penny had been drained from the bottom of each pocket.

Almost a block ahead of Graice, three men emerged onto the street from one such establishment. In this case, the word 'emerged' connoted an action somewhere midway between 'staggering' and 'falling down flat.' Having narrowly succeeded in completing the journey from tavern to street, they paused to steady themselves before attempting further effort. As Graice approached, she saw that they were stevedores since they wore the belts and leather straps of their guild, but obviously they had not spent the day working at the dockyard. All were big burly men of substantial size. Undoubtedly they had strong muscles hidden somewhere, otherwise they could not have worked as stevedores, but they also had bulging bellies through which much beer had passed during their lifetimes. Their clothes were ripped and torn in a few places but would have been reasonably presentable had only they been clean. Chances that the garments would ever be even remotely presentable seemed slight.

The three leaned shoulder to shoulder in an effort to stabilize their tenuously upright positions, but the steadiness of their tripod was in much doubt. Moths fluttered around a lamp in a nearby window, and had only one of the insects flown close to the men, all three would have been knocked to the ground by the breeze from its tiny wings. Then the men began to speak. The one on the left said something and the man in the middle roared with laughter as if he had just heard the funniest joke in history. The third drunk was less amused and he made a fist and took a swing through the air. Neither companion was in any danger of being punched but the movement of number three's arm disturbed his balance. Suddenly all three were stumbling crab-wise in a loose-kneed dance as they struggled to avoid falling. Only by grabbing each other firmly around the shoulders until their staggering synchronized were they able to keep standing.

This action proved more hilarious than the joke and great peals of laughter rang out. When one shouted an offensive word, the others followed and poured out streams of profanity at an extremely loud volume. Since each remark was funnier than the last (to themselves, that is), the men were much encouraged to keep shouting. Within an instant, their words formed a dense cloud of blue haze floating above their heads.

Since Graice was only fifty feet away at this point, she heard them clearly. Despite her hurry, she could not possibly let such behavior continue. Her frown intensified and she increased her pace toward them to a fast march. With her delicate features and mild voice, Graice would never try Antonetta's hard-line approach to the art of discipline, but then she didn't need to. Besides, just the sight of a red-sashed Sistére charging forward in that manner would intimidate any mortal man. Despite their inebriation, all three noticed her and turned to face her with their mouths falling open. The blue haze fled in self defense. Proving that fear can indeed induce sudden sobriety, one of the men removed his knit cap and knocked off his friends' hats as well. All lowered their heads in trepidation. The three were no longer adult men, just naughty little boys awaiting punishment from the stern schoolmarm. Mere snakes caught in the hypnotic gaze of an Arborean mongoose. Convicted criminals at the bar anticipating doom from the 'hanging' judge. They had no place to hide. No chance to run away. They were caught and they knew it.

Graice plowed to a stop ten feet away and began, "You should be ashamed of yourselves!" Suddenly, an unexpected fourth man stepped past Graice from behind and stood between her and the three drunks.

"Leave her alone," the newcomer told the stevedores. Unexpectedly, dim hopes that this man might punish them (instead of the Sistére doing it, you see) glimmered faintly somewhere inside three heads, but their misguided optimism was dashed immediately.

Graice stepped sideways so the drunks could see her again. She told the new man, "Don't interrupt. I'm not finished with them." From behind, she saw a slight twinge in his shoulders and knew he had heard her. Then she noticed the scar on the back of his head. Although his hair partially concealed it, Graice detected a jagged gash that ran from his crown down to the top of his neck. He stood still and Graice returned to her duty. Now that she was back in their view, the drunks focused solely on the Sistére – she knew that for certain even with their heads hanging down and their eyes watching their own shoes – and the new man disappeared from their minds. Which was surprising actually, since he was quite tall and muscular. Most men would notice the stranger immediately and watch him cautiously.

"You really should be ashamed of yourselves," Graice said again to the three reprobates as she launched into her lecture. "I'm appalled. Profanity is no laughing matter. Foul words hurt feelings and yours are so loud they pollute the air itself." She continued for half a minute while soft moans and sniffles gave audible proof that the three heard her words and felt her effect. Their heads were already as low as their bowed necks would allow, so they bent their backs forward from the waist to bring them lower. Finally she concluded, "No one should be forced to listen to you shout like that. There are women present. Don't you care what they think? And what if a child heard you? Can you imagine how awful that would be?"

One head perked up ever so slightly as if the man might say something. Had he been able to develop a coherent thought, he might have argued that the women in this neighborhood used worse language than any hard-drinking working man, and children rarely came to Drunken Scum Street. Well, maybe it was a little more than rarely, but still. Okay, sometimes kids came to buy beer or smoke-weed for lazy parents or for themselves to use or trade, but those children were already so corrupted by woeful home lives that a few rude words in the air would hardly affect them. Or at least the drunk could have argued in that manner.

No such clarity appeared in his mind, however, so he said nothing. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Her next words cut down any possibility of argument like a blow from a battle-axe.

"Don't you care what I think?" she asked softly, and the actual sadness was clear from her voice.

Oh, no!! They hadn't just offended her. They had hurt her feelings!

What was wrong with them? What had they done to come to such a wretched end? The dark recesses of their subconscious minds roiled and threatened to spew out the putrid memory of every misdeed committed in their lifetimes and thus reveal to the world what abjectly worthless creatures they were. Moans increased in volume and hands wiped at eyes. Unquenchable sobbing seemed imminent. First one and then the others held out their hands to her, praying beyond hope that she would smack them sharply with a stick and thus let lenient punishment assuage the guilt in their hearts.

But Graice showered even greater mercy upon them. She reached out to touch the back of each hand with one gentle finger and said, "You can behave better than this."

Oh!! The joyous relief of her kind words and forgiving fingertip! These men knew they were still as despicable as ever, but they could improve! They knew with certainty just from the tone of her voice. They would become better men! With hope and salvation in sight, they rejoiced and raised their heads to her.

"You must not curse again. Do you understand?" she said.

"Yes, Sistére," they assured her.

"You must also remember every word I've said, and I mean remember it when you wake up tomorrow and not just tonight." Her tone was sharper now but it was fair and just. Yes, they deserved such words.

"Yes, Sistére. Yes, Sistére. Oh yes, Sistére!" they repeated. And these weren't just words but promises, real ones.

"All right, you can go now," she said. Released from her power they bolted but not before wide smiles lit up their faces. Graice knew the smiles would be gone within an hour and the ebullient moods would fade during the night. But she also knew her words would nag at them tomorrow, next month, and for many years to come. None of them would ever curse again.

Her immediate task completed, she turned her attention to the other man standing two steps in front of her. He wore frayed but clean work clothes and had a pack-bag of sorts slung over a shoulder. He still faced away from her and at first she mistakenly assumed he had become inhibited by her little performance and thus was reluctant to face her. Bystanders sometimes were struck by back-blows from her effect and she realized she needed to calm his anxiety.

"Who are you?" she asked in her gentlest tone.

"Holder," he replied without moving. His voice was completely firm and calm.

"What's your full name, if you don't mind telling me?"

"Just Holder," he shrugged. Then he turned to face her and she barely suppressed a gasp when she saw him from the front.

His Aura glowed so brightly that even the youngest neophyte could have viewed it. The individual auriculae framing his face flowed like ribbons in the breeze, and the colors were vivid – green glowing in many shades of perfect purity with shining gold strands interwoven. Such displays never presented around a man. Only senior Madréres could shine like this, and only Graice herself exceeded his radiance, assuming those who told her how hers appeared spoke truth.

Then she noticed that despite his brilliant glow, she could read nothing.

Stunned, she quickly tamped down her perception so she could ignore the Aura and concentrate on the man himself. The top of her head did not quite reach the level of his shoulders which were broad and strong. He was taller than any of the big stevedores although not nearly so wide at the waist, and his body looked fit and healthy. It occurred to her that those three men might have been in trouble around Holder had she not been there to control matters. His face was handsome enough, she supposed, in a rugged sort of way. The dim light made it difficult to discern the exact shade of his eyes but they were definitely blue and thus out of place with his dark hair. She would get a better look in brighter light, she hoped.

"I am Sistére Graice Nínjìng," she said, but mentioning her unique name brought no reaction to his face. "I would like to talk to you but I'm in a hurry. Will you walk with me for a while?" He paused for a moment before replying.

"To guard you?" he asked.

"Um, no," she said, briefly flummoxed by the nonsensical words. "Just to talk." As she spoke, the thought 'what is there about him?' flashed through her mind. He nodded yes in reply and they continued her trek towards the Way-House. Glancing sideways, she tried to read him again but still gleaned nothing. Then one strand appeared and told her she had been wrong when she thought she'd intimidated him. He had not been the least bit hesitant to face her when she spoke. He had instead been watching the three drunks scurry away, just to make sure they did not return to bother her again, and he had turned around at the moment they disappeared from sight.

"Holder, why did you step between me and those men?" she asked.

"To protect you," he replied and she couldn't decide if that was childishly sweet or just half-witted.

"But why did you think I needed to be protected?" she said and it was clear the question took him by surprise.

"Because those men were rough and rude. You're a nice lady. Such men might hurt a lady." The look in his eyes said he thought the answer was obvious. Why did she need to ask?

She clamped down hard on her reaction so he wouldn't think she was laughing at him and said, "But Holder, I'm a Sistére and I wear the red sash."

"Sis-tar?" he said hesitantly.

"It's pronounced Sis-tier, with the emphasis on the second syllable. It's not the same word as sister, I assure you, and it's not a name but a title. Call me Graice. That's easy to say."

"Sistére," he replied and this time his pronunciation was perfect. "I can speak clearly when I learn new words," he assured her with a just a touch of offended pride.

"I'm sure you can, Holder," she said soothingly, expecting her voice to make him smile, but his face remained unchanged. How? "Well, call me Graice anyway. It may be easy to say, but it's still my name."

"Yes, Graice." This time she caught a slight upturn at the corners of his mouth but his face said 'mild amusement' rather than 'effect.' Something was strange here and she was determined to find out what.

"Let me tell you something, Holder, if I may. Sistéres don't often need to be protected and those with red sashes never do. Did you know that?"

"No."

"Surely you've seen some of us before. Our white robes usually stand out in a crowd."

"I've seen white robes, yes, and blue ones too. You know, older ladies." Meaning he had noticed at least one Madrére also.

"Yes, our elders wear pale blue. So you do know about us."

"I said I've seen, not I've talked to."

Peculiar indeed, but she decided on an oblique approach for the moment. "You don't look or smell like someone who belongs on Drunken Scum Street. Why are you here?"

"I went to the docks to ask for work but the people there didn't like me. Said I don't belong. Now I'm going back to the caravanserai."

"Do you work on the caravans, then?"

"Not anymore but they still let me sleep there. In the tents, if they aren't full."

"So you lost your job and need work now?"

"Yes," he acknowledged.

"Were you on many journeys with the caravans?"

"Yes, very many. The last five seasons with Rispoli Trade. Last trip we traveled along the border of Corager and Hinterland from Antrass to Symbola to Low Newk. I've been to Matik four other times before this, too. Earlier, I was with other companies. I've made many journeys in all directions."

"That sounds wonderfully adventurous," Graice said. "Holder, Sistéres have Way-Houses in every city on the Eastern Side from Niazport to Anglio."

"I've been there – both places."

"You must have seen some of us in other locations, then."

"Seen, yes, as I said."

"But you haven't talked to any until now?" she asked and he shook his head no. "Well, you think I'm nice, at least. You do, don't you?"

Even with him facing straight ahead, she could clearly see there was no response to her effect but he did react in a purely conventional manner. A slight smile appeared and she knew he was trying to look sideways at her without moving his head. He did not, however, speak at that moment. Shyness? With an Aura like his? That didn't figure, she thought. Well, at least reticence was easy to cure. It didn't even require words, just a certain set of her eyes and mouth. And a touch of her fingers to get him to look her way, it turned out.

He looked. He saw. He showed nothing.

Holder turned away before seeing the surprise which Graice momentarily failed to hide in her own face. Did she have no effect on him at all? Nothing like this had happened since she was seven or eight, long before she graduated at Sistérian Academy and donned the green sash five years ago. And she wore the red now! Perplexed, she searched for explanations. That scar on his head. Had an injury damaged his mind? That might explain things but it couldn't be true. How could he shine the way he did with a damaged brain? Besides, despite his blunt directness, she knew he wasn't stupid. No. Something was hiding from her.

"Holder, would you mind stopping a moment and facing me? If it doesn't make you feel awkward, I would like to see your face."

He complied willingly enough and she searched for clues. If her intense gaze embarrassed him in the least, he kept it hidden – and who could hide from Sistére Graice? But wait, she'd couldn't be wrong about the shyness, could she? If she'd thought so, then it must be so. Right? But it wasn't. How to explain . . . ? She couldn't remember ever having so many question marks in her thoughts before.

After a full minute of viewing, puzzles still abounded but her rising excitement pushed away her confusion. Something important was hiding. She knew it with certainty. This must be studied! Then she quickly revised that thought. He must be studied, she meant, not this. And helped too, of course. Her attention would be good for him; she was sure. Then she realized with hard clarity that she must take him with her now. She could not risk letting him get away. Anything could happen to an unemployed man in Matik and he might disappear. She decided to make one more effort at effect. If it didn't work she would at least know for sure, and she could still convince him with logic and gentle persuasion of the ordinary kind.

"Holder, come with me now," she voiced very precisely.

"Why?" he asked without moving and she knew for certain. Her compulsion was subtle but strong. Any other man's feet would have moved before his head knew what was happening. Holder did not even flinch.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be rude. You said you were going to the caravanserai, right?" He nodded and she continued. "But that's outside the city wall beyond West Gate and we're walking in the opposite direction. It's a long way to your destination."

"I'm a good walker," he said and the little smile was back. She smiled too, and not with calculation this time.

"I'm going to the Way-House and we have a guest room there. It's not fancy, but it beats a tent and it's much closer. If you like it and are willing to do a little work, you might decide to stay for a while."

"I can work," he affirmed.

"I'm sure you can. What did you do on your job with the caravans, anyway?"

"Carrying things and loading wagons mostly, but I also stood guard at night. People get nervous in the deep dark and like having me awake to protect them," he said. Well, that explained a little, she thought.

"Please come. The room is private and no one will intrude. I bet you can't say that about your usual place. Come with me, all right?"

"Thank you, yes," he said and they resumed walking.

Madrére Sybille was going to be so pleased about this, Graice thought. How incredible to find such a marvel in a south-side slum! Then she laughed inwardly at herself as she often did and thought, well, if Sybille isn't completely pleased, at least I am.
CHAPTER 3

Graice and Holder § 2

At the end of Drunken Scum Street, a gated fence blocked the way. It had been erected by citizens in nearby neighborhoods to keep the denizens of the dockyard slums where they belonged. It didn't work very well, there being many ways to get around it, but symbolism was important to the people of Matik. When Graice and Holder reached it, an elderly watchman opened the gate for them. As he did, he grabbed a torch and held it out to Graice.

"Take this, Sistére," he said. "It's gotten plumb dark."

"Thank you, kind sir," Graice replied and a smile cracked the man's weathered old face. His look changed to bewilderment, however, when Holder reached and took the torch instead. Noticing Holder for the first time, the watchman frowned but then turned back to the Sistére and knew everything was all right. "A pleasant evening to you, good watchman," Graice said as they passed and his smile widened to the absolute limits of his lips.

A moment later, the man realized he had forgotten his manners and called out, "Thank you, Sistére."

Graice led Holder up the hill on Potters Street and then half-left onto Madder Lane. The quality of the buildings around them improved as they walked. This neighborhood would never be fashionable but it was a noticeable improvement from the street they had left. Shops and small manufactories seemed to be profitable, and reputable-looking people (well, most of them anyway) were in the process of locking the doors for the night and heading for bed. Those who were on the street usually said hello to Graice and a percentage of them actually made eye contact with her. Obviously, the latter were those with clear consciences. When they saw Holder, however, they shied away and left him plenty of room to pass. Once or twice he overheard murmurs as one said to another, "Don't worry, he can't cause trouble. The Sistére has him."

"We're going to Regents Avenue. The Way-House is near the old city wall. Not far from Sudost Gate to be exact," Graice explained as they walked. "But it's really not as far as it sounds, so don't worry."

"I won't," he answered and then a moment later he added, "You walk well."

"Thank you. I get a lot of practice."

"Your shoes look bad, though."

Graice looked down, mostly to make sure her ankles weren't showing. "I think these look nice. What's wrong with them?"

"Fancy. Too soft for walking."

"I guess they do seem fancy considering the embroidery, but that's only the upper parts. Underneath is real leather with strong soles," she explained. "Actually, I only wore these today because I wanted to impress someone I met with earlier, and frankly I expected a carriage ride home that wasn't offered. You would approve of what I normally wear, I think"

"You could walk far with good shoes," he said. "I can tell such things."

"Hmm? Oh, I understand. Working on caravans, you must have evaluated people based on how far they can walk. I guess I sounded silly telling you don't worry, it's not far. I realize you can walk much farther than I can. Faster too. My legs are hurrying and yours are just strolling."

"Mine are longer," he pointed out. He turned his head to her and added, "I can carry you if you get tired."

"What? That's not a prop . . .," she started, but she caught herself as she saw his face. There was no guile in him at all, nothing suggestive. He was not trying a trick to get to touch her. (But why, Graice wondered, had she mentioned her legs like that? Madrére Antonetta didn't say anything, but she was lurking inside Graice's head, ready to pounce.) Graice calmed her voice and said, "Thank you, but I'm quite self reliant."

"I didn't mean to carry you now. Maybe someday, if you need it."

"I'll keep it in mind but I don't think it will ever be necessary."

"As you say."

Before long, they reached the wider spaces of Regents Avenue, a good road with streetlamps, almost half of which were lit. Holder's torch hissed and faded now but it still shed a modicum of light. Here the buildings were spaced apart and surrounded by stone walls with sturdy gates. Although still not exactly a fashionable neighborhood, these homes were for successful businessmen who had made enough coin to move up a notch in the world. Separated from the others stood a building with no protective wall at all, only a low fence made of wooden slats painted white.

"This is it," Graice said when they reached the gate. Seeing a young girl in the doorway, she called, "Helena, please go ask Ignacio to show Holder here to the guest room. Then get some clean bedding and give it to Ignacio." The girl nodded and hurried away. "I'm sorry to rush off, Holder, but I need to go inside now. I have matters to report and I'm later than expected. Ignacio will be here in a minute to get you set up. Please wait outside the gate until he comes."

"As you say."

"Please say you'll stay in the morning so I can talk to you. I'm sure Madrére Sybille will want to meet you too."

"If you wish." The words themselves seemed compliant but his manner did not. He was not the least bit subservient, only polite.

"You're a puzzle, you know," she told him. "Well, goodnight for now. Ignacio will be here momentarily."

Holder watched as she hurried to the door and went inside; then he looked around. The House sat on a larger lot than others on the street and the white fence enclosed only a portion of the property. Obviously the fence was meant as a boundary line and not an obstacle since Holder could have easily climbed over it. The building itself looked homey and sturdy, not ornate or extravagant. Fine trees grew around it, both inside and outside the fence. It was the nicest place Holder had seen within the sprawling walls of Matik, but then he had never been to the area around Patron's Hill on the north-side, of course. Soon a small man carrying a candle came around the side from the back of the property. He walked outside the fence.

"I'm Ignacio. I'll show you the way," he said when he arrived. "You can leave that torch here in the gutter." Holder gave the man a fast look-over. His hair was gray but his body was whipcord thin and seemed fit. Holder surmised that the man could walk a good distance before his age betrayed him. Then Ignacio saw the open gate and became alarmed. "Wait, did you step inside the fence?"

"No."

"You wouldn't do that, would you? If you can't be trusted, I should tell the Madrére now."

"Not trust me? Why do you say this?" Holder frowned but the older man didn't notice the look.

"The fence marks the boundary line and any man who would try to get into a House after dark cannot be trusted," Ignacio said sharply.

"Why?"

"Because we can't go inside at night! Don't you know that?"

"No."

"Are you a simpleton? Where have you been all your life?"

"Traveling, for what I can remember of it." This time the edge in his voice was clear. Ignacio decided that angering a stranger of this size and strength might not be advisable and softened his tone.

"Listen, don't be upset. It's nothing personal. I can't go in either and I've worked for Madrére Sybille for thirty years." Then he raised an arm as if he meant to pull the gate closed, but he stopped immediately and dithered as if he was making some major decision. Holder, who was observant about many things, noticed that the man's hand would have crossed the boundary line had he reached for the gate. Ignacio dropped his arm and said, "I'll tell Helena to come close it. Say, if you didn't leave it open, who did?"

"Graice."

"You call her Graice?" Ignacio asked in surprise.

"That's what she told me to do."

The older man shook his head and turned to go back the way he had come, waiving for Holder to follow. As he walked, Ignacio mumbled, "Impropriety. Such casualness breeds it. Of all people, Sistére Graice should insist on being referred to by title and not first name only. She's not like ordinary Sistéres, after all." He wasn't really talking to Holder but he muttered loud enough to be heard.

"What are ordinary Sistéres like?" Holder asked.

"What?" Ignacio replied with a start. "Was I speaking out loud? I need to be more careful about that. But why do you ask about regular Sistéres?"

"I don't know anything about them."

"You're really serious, aren't you?" said Ignacio as they reached the guest room. It turned out to be a freestanding structure rather than part of the House itself. It was small but sturdy, built of solid adobe with a good roof. And it was outside the fence. The old man led Holder in and set the candle down on a little table which was the only furniture besides the bed. The room was simple and plain but immaculately clean. As Holder set his pack-bag on the floor, Ignacio said, "I'll leave the candle in case you need it. The pitcher and bowl on the table are for your use and you can get water at the well. It's to the left outside, and the privies are to the right behind a row of bamboo. The blankets and bedding are . . . ."

"Are here," said a clear crystalline voice. They both turned to see the girl Helena at the open door.

"I'll take those, child," said Ignacio as he hurried to take the blankets from her. "Don't you come . . ."

"Don't come where, grandfather? You shouldn't call me a child. If I really was one, it wouldn't matter if I came in, would it?" she interrupted. The gleeful mischief in her face was blatant. "If I'm bad, will you tell on me?"

"Yes, I will," Ignacio warned her but his words daunted her not a bit. Turning her bright curious eyes at Holder, she looked him over without any trace of inhibition. Then with a burst of shining laughter, she darted away. Ignacio sighed as he carried the blankets to the bed.

"Helena would make the bed for you except, well, she's twelve now and it is after dark. I'll make it instead."

"I can make my own bed. I'm very self reliant," Holder told him.

"It's a bit short for someone your size, I'm afraid."

"It's the best bed I've seen in a long time."

"Interesting. Well, I'll say goodnight, then. If you have any questions tonight, come ask me. I'm in the cabin around back. In the morning, I'll teach you more about the proprieties over breakfast. Tomorrow you may address the adult women if you're respectful, but don't speak to Helena and the other girls. They're young and don't always have good sense."

"I'll remember," Holder assured him. Ignacio closed the door behind himself as he left.

Grace walked to the soft chair opposite Sybille and slipped off her shoes. Her feet were small but not delicate or dainty – she had told Holder the truth about walking – and she folded her legs under herself as she settled into the chair. Her interest in Holder now pushed aside, her expression was serious.

"Yonah, please bring Graice a cup of tea," Sybille called out.

"Right away," replied a voice from the kitchen.

"I can see that your meeting with the Patroness did not go as hoped," Sybille said to Graice.

"She wouldn't promise a thing, Madrére," Graice replied with a touch of petulance in her voice. Realizing her mistake, she corrected herself and smoothed her tone to a proper level. "Excuse me, please. For two hours, I listened to her harsh voice and got nothing but vapid generalities. 'We have always cooperated,' she said, and 'My husband and I appreciate what you do,' and 'We understand your position' – quack, quack, quack and then more quack. She never once mentioned the word donation."

Only the most expert of readers could have seen the amusement in Sybille's face and Aura. "I'm sure Gildea will come through with something. She always has."

"I'm not so sure this time. She was extremely suspicious. I'm sure she knew it was me who was coming."

"That's not surprising considering the number of people who've been watching us since we arrived in Matik. You're certainly not difficult to identify," said the Madrére. Then she looked up as a pleasant middle aged woman in a plain dress came from the kitchen and handed them cups of tea. "Thank you, Yonah. That will be all for the night."

"Goodnight Madrére, Sistére," Yonah said as she left.

"Let me tell you what happened when I got there," Graice said to Sybille, getting back to the subject. "She did not greet me herself. A servant took me to a large dining hall they have. The room is very long."

"I was there once and remember the room."

"All the tables had been removed and I was given a chair pushed all the way against the back wall. The Patroness undoubtedly sat as far away as she could against the opposite wall, but I couldn't see her. In front of me, a high wooden barrier had been built across the width of the room," Graice explained. "Whenever I spoke, she paused a long time before responding. I suspect she had her ears plugged and made someone else listen to my words and then signal them to her."

"I expect you're right. She's heard something about you specifically and not just the Sistéria in general. I'm afraid our people have let things slip here and there and now the rumors fly everywhere – and the Patroness hears every rumor," Sybille said. Then with a wry look she added, "I don't suppose she offered to let you speak to her husband instead?" The question brought a smile to Graice's serious face and a small laugh followed.

"She most certainly did not! She made that clear before I even had a chance to inquire about his health. Clearly, I am never to be anywhere in the mansion when Edric is home, not even if we're in separate rooms. I'm sure that armed guards are surrounding the Patron as we speak to keep me away."

"I'm not surprised, Graice. The Patroness is conniving and can be unfriendly, but she's not stupid," replied Sybille, now laughing herself. "I doubt you're right about the guards, though. Considering the extent of your effect on ordinary men, how would guards stop you? It doesn't matter, anyway. After you convinced Edric, he still would never be able to get Gildea to do something she didn't want to."

"That's true even when I'm not involved."

"Yes," Sybille agreed. "Well, this development is a problem but we've overcome obstacles before."

"If we don't get some help here in Matik, the rest of our trip will be impossible, won't it?"

"Let's just say difficult."

"Speaking of the journey, that reminds me of something," Graice said as she untied the ribbons which held her long hair in back. "In the morning, you must meet the man I brought here. He's in the guest room."

"And where did you find this man?"

"In the street," Graice replied, trying hard not to say which one. Madrére Sybille's eyes made it clear she had noticed the evasion. "All right," the Sistére continued, "It was a bad street near the dockyards, but he clearly didn't belong there. I'm certain of that. He's poor and unemployed but very interesting. Oh, and he worked on caravans before this. He could be helpful to us."

"You brought him so we could hire him for the trip?"

"To be honest I just thought of that now, but it does seem like a good idea to have an experienced man with us considering all the trouble eastward since the High Protector died. I really brought him here just because he's so remarkable."

"Remarkable in what way?"

"You'll see."

"It's late, Graice. Tell me now."

As she paused before speaking, Graice's Aura displayed equal measures of surprise, fascination, and delight. "For one thing, Madrére, I have no effect on him."

"What? Be serious, Graice."

"I'm not joking. I tried and it didn't work. You can judge for yourself tomorrow." She stood and stretched as she spoke and glanced in the direction of her bedroom. Sybille did not try to hide her concern, letting Graice see it in the Madrére's own Aura.

"I will need to see more proof than just one brief episode on the street before I believe that. Some people can resist the suasions of most Sistéres, and I met a few some years ago who could even avoid my own. But it's hard to believe that you have no effect at all on someone. If it's true, he could be very dangerous, Graice. Why did you bring him here?"

"To study him, of course. Well, goodnight, Madrére." Halfway to the hall door, Graice looked back with a sly grin. "Don't you want to know what causes his immunity to effect? After all, what if his condition is contagious?"

Sybille was barely able to suppress her reaction until Graice was out of sight – and the Madrére was very good at hiding things – while the thought 'yes, what if?' ran roughshod through her mind. For a long time, as she had done every day for eighteen years, she sat and pondered what to do about the conundrum that was Graice. She had no new ideas.

In the morning, the woman Yonah came to Ignacio's cabin where Holder sat listening and said, "Please come with me." She led him inside the back gate of the fence but not into the House itself. He followed her around a corner into a yard on the opposite side of the building from the guest room. It was a pleasant spot with manicured grass and many flowers. Bright sunshine gleamed down through the trees. Several chairs were arranged on the grass, and Graice and an older woman who wore a light blue robe sat in two of them. Holder walked straight to them and stood politely.

"Holder, this is Madrére Sybille," Graice told him. "We would like to talk to you, please." Holder glanced from Graice to the other woman.

"Sit down," Sybille commanded.

"I'm comfortable standing," Holder replied.

The two women exchanged quick but significant glances. Graice's Aura clearly read 'I told you so' while Sybille silently admitted 'perhaps you're right'.

"Actually, we would prefer if you sat," Graice said to Holder. "You're so tall that it's difficult to look up at you." Nodding to acknowledge the reasonableness of the request, Holder grabbed a chair and pulled it closer to them before sitting. Both women registered surprise at the movement, although not in any manner Holder could detect.

"The Madrére is my Mentor, as well as many other things. I told her that you worked on caravans," Graice said to fill time while she and Sybille both studied Holder. He wore the same brown work clothes as the night before, and his ragged dark hair appeared to have been trimmed by someone using sheep shears. The face was tanned but surprisingly unlined for someone who spent his time out of doors. At first glance, he appeared to be around thirty but something about him seemed older than he looked. His Aura shined as brightly as before with the auriculae still fluttering shades of green, but neither woman could glean anything significant about his thoughts from it. Then Graice looked at his eyes in the clear morning light. They weren't just blue. They were deep, shining, crystalline jewels – brilliant pure sapphires of a hue impossible to describe in words.

And those eyes were evaluating the two women just as they did him. The Madrére was taller than Graice but no more than average height for a woman, and around her blue robe she wore the same type of red sash as the Sistére. Sybille's hair had traces of white in the darker gray and her light brown skin was a shade darker than Holder's even though the Madrére had no noticeable suntan. She wasn't overweight like some people her age, and even though her robe hid her physique and Holder had never seen her walk, he sensed toughness in her. Like Ignacio, she seemed to have the endurance of someone much younger. The Madrére wore an unobtrusive necklace, a simple gold chain with a star as a pendant. From a lump under the front of her robe, Holder suspected that Graice also wore a necklace of some sort hidden inside her clothes.

Graice's hair wasn't tied this day and it flowed freely over her shoulders down almost to her tiny waist. Thinking of something he'd seen on his travels to compare to the color of her hair and eyes, Holder decided on obsidian, the volcanic glass that is pure black and yet sparkles in the sunlight. It was not a perfect comparison, of course, since obsidian is hard, cold, and has sharp edges – all of which were the exact opposite in texture from her hair and in warmth from her eyes.

"You said I was a puzzle," Holder said to Graice, meaning the night before. "I don't know if that's good." He continued observing her. The dark shining eyes were almond shaped and tilted up at the corners. (Sybille's eyes were interesting enough also, with green flecks showing in light brown irises, but no one would ever notice them while she sat next to the young Sistére.) Graice's skin reminded Holder of the tan color of antique ivory he had seen in the market at Assari. In a city like Matik where skin pigmentation ranged from dark chocolát to pale alabaster, her tone still managed to be unique.

"Puzzles aren't bad, I assure you," Graice replied. "I said you were interesting, too, and that's definitely good. Well, to us at least."

"How am I interesting?"

This time Madrére Sybille responded. "To be honest, we're not sure. Please tell us about yourself. Start with where you come from."

"I was in Low Newk last before coming to Matik. Before then, I was in many other places."

"I meant where you were born," responded Sybille.

"I don't know," he replied. "Dimas said it wasn't important."

"Who's Dimas?" Graice asked.

"My friend. He was very good to me. Dimas worked on the caravans too but not at the same job as me. He was too old to do much lifting and carrying, but he knew numbers and words, and owners liked him to keep books about how much money they had and what inventory they bought and sold. You know, things like that."

"I see," replied the Madrére. "Maybe you don't remember your birthplace because you moved soon after you were born. Tell us as much about your childhood as you can. What was it like where you grew up?"

"I don't remember."

"Nothing at all?"

"Nothing."

"Well then, what's the first thing you can recall?" asked Graice.

"Waking up in Catai." When he saw their faces, he added, "It's a small town in northwestern Amicitia, nearly all the way to Nordenio."

"What happened then?"

"Dimas was with me. He took care of me and put bandages here," Holder said as he touched the back of his head, "And also on my back where I had another wound. Then he told me what to do and where we should go. One day we met a caravan, and the boss needed a strong guy and a smart one. We've kept moving ever since."

"How long ago was this, Holder?"

"Twelve years. Dimas kept up with the calendars."

"So you were an adult when you awoke?" Sybille asked.

"The same as I am now. Except my head hurt and was shaven then. The hair grew later and Dimas told me how to take care of it."

Dimas must not have been a fashionable man, Sybille thought. "You really don't remember anything before that day twelve years ago?"

"That's what I said," he replied bluntly. He didn't like for anyone to question answers he had already given.

The women exchanged another glance and Grace continued. "After all the time you and Dimas journeyed with caravans, why did you leave your job?"

"I didn't. It left me," he explained. "Dimas got sick and I had to take care of him. Rispoli left before I could go with them."

"Rispoli Trade was his last employer," Graice explained to Sybille. Holder continued.

"Yes. Captain Rispoli, the boss, was mad because I wouldn't go, but I couldn't leave Dimas. He was elderly and had weak lungs. He couldn't stop coughing. Dimas was good to me. I had to take care of him."

"We understand," Sybille replied, and then softly she added, "Your friend died, didn't he?"

"Yes. Four days ago." His face had a look of pain which could be seen in the ordinary way without being able to read his Aura. Both women exuded comfort and consolation, enough to cheer many bereaved loved ones at once, but Holder's face remained unchanged. Neither had an effect on him even when trying to help!

"Now you feel all alone in the world," said Graice. It was a statement rather than a question, but no skill at all was needed to read his feelings. Anyone wandering in off the street would have seen it in his facial expression.

"But surely you must have family somewhere. Don't you remember anyone?" asked Sybille.

"No."

"Didn't Dimas tell you anything at all about them?"

"He said they were all gone and I couldn't go home."

"Where did he say home was, Holder?"

"He said I couldn't go there," he re-explained.

Graice and Sybille exchanged more than just a glance this time. They had much to contemplate and comprehend. Then the Madrére held up a hand and looked to one side.

"Aceila, come here please," she called out and a young girl appeared, not the same one who had brought blankets to the guest room but similar. "Behave, youngling," Sybille said when she saw the way the girl stared at Holder. Unlike Helena when Ignacio had spoken to her the night before, Aceila snapped to attention instantly. "Go ask Yonah to make some of her special tea. Bring a full pot and three cups."

"Yes, Madrére," answered the girl as she dashed away.

"You girls inside, Helena and Caroletta," Sybille continued. "Stop peeking out."

"Yes, Madrére," two voices said in unison from the window behind Sybille's chair.

"Please have some tea with us, Holder," she said to him. "It's very rejuvenating and I think this conversation will take a while."

Later the two women sat together in thought while Holder returned to Ignacio's cabin for lunch. After a considerable time, the Madrére spoke.

"Well, I admit this is a remarkable case, Graice. How exactly did you find this man?"

"I was beginning to lecture three rowdy drunks when he stepped between me and them. To protect me, he said."

"To protect you from intoxicated men? You?"

"Yes, and he was serious so don't ever let him see that you're amused."

"I won't," Sybille replied. "Damaging his pride would not be helpful."

"He told me later that he'd seen Sistéres from a distance during his travels but he had never spoken to one before."

"Or talked about Sistéres with anyone else either, apparently."

"Correct," said Graice. "But I'm small and those men were quite large and disreputable, and Holder simply misunderstood the threat. He has a good heart and his ignorance of us is understandable. Ignorance does not equate with lack of intelligence."

"You don't have to repeat my own teachings to me, youngling," Sybille replied with a smile.

"If you call me a youngling, I'll have to act like one," Graice said as she stuck out her tongue.

"Well, I certainly won't hold his lack of knowledge against him. Besides, even if he did know about other Sistéres, he couldn't have known about you, Graice."

"Seriously though, part of his job on the caravans was to be the night guard and he's seen dangerous times as a result. The courage seems real and I think he is predisposed to protecting people."

"Something here runs considerably deeper than just a job he used to do, but Graice, you don't believe we need a man to protect us, do you?"

"Not from other men as he meant to last night but much has changed since Abbelôn fell. Who knows what we'll run into or what type of help we'll need?"

"Yes, and even though I'm certain we'll reach our destination, we should be prepared for anything," Sybille said. Then she signaled 'not yet' in reply to Graice's repeated unspoken question about the ultimate goal of the journey and changed the subject. "Do you think Holder was telling the truth about his memory loss?"

Graice displayed a look of delight quickly replaced with mock regret. "I'm amazed! I just heard Madrére Sybille Sabidora herself imply that she could not tell for certain whether a man was lying or not! But if I say anything about that, no one will believe me."

"Calm your mischief, Sistére," Sybille replied wryly. "Do you think I missed the fact that you said his courage seems real rather than is real? Not certain yourself, are you?"

"The fact that we both are making these admissions is extraordinary in itself, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is."

"I do think he's truthful, however," said Graice. "Not because of any skill at reading, just because of his direct and open manner. Any woman in the world would believe him."

"But some men are adept at seeming serious when they are not."

"Enough to fool the two of us?"

"Graice, the answer to that question was much clearer to me before he remained standing when I told him to sit."

"I understand your point. The same thing happened when I told him to move last night."

"Hmm. Well, I agree with you about his truthfulness," Sybille said. "I don't think he remembers anything before suffering a head injury, just as he said. Remind me to ask Ignacio to find out exactly where this Catai place is."

"Do you have a guess about who he might be?" Graice asked.

"I have no knowledge of that and guesses without knowledge are less than worthless."

"Madrére, we may be able to help him recover memories."

"You mean that you might help, not we."

"Yes, that's what I mean," Graice said. "I can do it."

"You've only done such things in controlled situations with willing participants and not with anyone remotely like Holder."

"But you know that I've accomplished things no one else could."

With a sigh, Sybille nodded to admit that much. "But even so Graice, if the brain tissue itself is physically damaged, you can't help him."

"Perhaps the memories aren't lost but just blocked and can't get out. I could look for another path, a link to bring his memories into his conscious mind. And it seems likely that the visible injury is not the only problem. There are many types of trouble which I can resolve."

Sybille inhaled a breath and held it for a moment. "What you're suggesting is extremely risky. Graice, you are much too important to . . ."

"Please stop!" Graice snapped. "I'm so tired of hearing that I'm special. If I really am, then I should do something special!" They both sat still for several long moments as Sybille met Graice's gaze. The Madrére broke eye contact first and sighed more loudly this time.

"I am not saying that I agree with this, Graice, so don't think that I do," Sybille insisted. "But before any other factors are considered, he must become a willing volunteer. I don't think that will happen until he knows you better and trusts you."

"Meaning we need to keep him with us until that happens," Graice stated and Sybille nodded. "Well, we agree about that anyway."

"Yes," said Sybille, and a soft knock came from the closed door. "Come," she said and the girl Aceila entered.

"A lady came to the gate and told me to give this to you, Madrére," she said as she held up a small cloth sack. "She said it's from Patroness Gildea."

"Won't the woman come in and present it herself?" Sybille asked.

"No, Madrére. In fact, she hurried away."

Graice rolled her eyes and said, "It's me obviously. I'm such a mean and dangerous person that she ran away."

"Excuse me, Sistére?" said the confused girl.

"Ignore her, Aceila," Sybille told her. "Graice thinks she's funny. Hand me the sack and you may go."

As the girl left, Sybille held up the little bag for Graice to see.

"Even without opening it, the size itself makes something clear, doesn't it?" Graice said.

"Yes, indeed."

Regardless of the denomination of the coins inside, this bag could not possibly hold as much as they needed.

CHAPTER 4

Caelia

Her full name was Cælele-Amia Emerick~Chancelar, and although her first name was certainly not the only thing that made the girl distinctive, it was indeed unique. Of all the people living in Annâles-Scientia, only her father would ever have thought of naming a daughter after a legendary heroine of such antiquity. For that matter, the girl's mother was the only woman wise enough to understand his motive and tolerant enough to let him have his way. The story of the original Cælele-Amia was known from the fairy tale that scholars sometimes told to their daughters. No one thought twice about the origin of the current Cælele-Amia's name, however. Everyone knew who she was and they all called her Caelia.

Caelia was tall for thirteen and stood head and shoulders above the little ones clustered around her on this day. They were a gaggle of sixes, boys and girls alike all brightly dressed in yellow pants and tunics, just starting their formal education. Caelia's clothes were colored deep green but were otherwise the same style. Her hair was the color of embers burning red and gold in a fire, something unmatched among her folk. She wore it pulled back and tied with a ribbon behind her neck, from where it cascaded down between her shoulder blades. Although her lithe body was as athletic as any boy among the thirteens, no one who saw her face ever mistook her for a boy. She had inherited her facial features from her mother (fortunately so, in everyone's opinion), although her green eyes obviously came from her father.

"Quiet down and listen to me, everyone," Caelia told the children and they ceased their chatter. They were serious now because they knew this first day was important. They understood that because they were smart. Everyone told them so. For students, learning things was the same as work was for adults, much more important than playing. Caelia said, "We're going to the Anginearium today. It's in one of the buildings inside the Chamber and a lot of interesting things are there. Who remembers what we talked about?"

"Me! Me! I do!" cried out a chorus of small voices.

"Good for all of you! We'll talk to some very smart people and one of the anginears will show us some very interesting things. Plus, the Dozent himself will speak to us there."

"Escol?" asked one of the boys.

"Children should call him Dozent Escol," Caelia reminded them. "His full name is Escolastico Chancelar, but most people just say Escol because it's easier. His first name actually means someone who teaches all that he knows, which is a good description of him. The last name isn't so hard, is it? You already know how to pronounce Chancelar, don't you?"

"Because it's your name too!" called out a boy in the front row.

"That's right, Linas," Caelia replied with a proud smile. "He's my father." Suddenly, poor Linas was pushed hard from behind and staggered forward. He almost crashed into Caelia but she caught his shoulders and helped him keep his balance. For a brief moment, she left her hands touching him. Linas gazed up in awe but Caelia was not looking down at him. Her eyes were searching out the culprit who had pushed him instead.

"Linas is in love with Caelia! He loves her!" cried out the girl who had been standing behind him. Laughter rang out, especially from the boys.

"Kira! Never shove anyone like that!" Caelia said. "Someone could get hurt."

"But he loves . . ." Kira tried to insist.

"What's wrong with that? It's no excuse for what you did," Caelia answered sharply. Then she softened her face and looked coyly around at the other kids. "Besides, how could he help it? Everyone loves me!" she said with a touch of mischief and then she spread her arms wide as if to embrace the whole world. "Even Kira does, if she'd only admit it." This time all the children except Linas and Kira giggled. The boy stared in wonderment at Caelia's face while Kira scowled. "No more playing around. It's time to grab the rope."

Hearing her words, the kids lined up while a soft rope was stretched into a straight line. The biggest boy was assigned the important duty of being last in line, while a girl who walked with a limp was placed in front right behind Caelia. She was good at organizing such things and no one in Caelia's groups was ever left behind. Each child grasped the rope tightly and they started forward.

Once in the Chamber, the little ones knew the rules. Every child had at least one parent who worked there and the kids had been inside before. They stayed in the middle of the walkways and never pulled the rope to one side or the other. When they crossed Meeting Square and walked past Speaker's Dais, they all resisted the urge to climb the steps and run around on the platform. Even the adults they passed followed the instructions Caelia had given them. They smiled at the little ones but did not speak or wave; that might distract the kids. At that time of day in the Chamber, many people were laboring at their trades, some of them inside buildings and others out in the open. Many used sharp tools and some stood in front of big things that spun around or shook from side to side. In several places, hot fires burned inside the large stoves which adults called forges. A careless child could easily get hurt in the Chamber.

"There it is," Caelia told them as she pointed ahead to a structure built, like everything else in sight, of smooth rectangular stone blocks. It stood three floors high, although an outsider might think it was only two floors and a flat roof. Inside the Chamber, of course, there was no need to cover the top story. Naturally, Caelia gave no thought to what strangers might think since she had no memory of ever seeing one.

"We'll go inside and ask the nice people if we can ride the lifter up to the top level," she said to the children.

The people inside were as nice as expected. Everyone stopped what they were doing and smiled warmly. "Hello, Caelia," they said, although some called her "our girl" or "precious" instead of her name, followed by such phrases as "welcome, children" and "congratulations on starting school today." A kind man helped half of the kids climb into a large basket which had cables attached to its corners. These ropes went up through a hole in the ceiling which was the same size as the basket. Although the children didn't really understand, the ropes were expertly counterweighted. Clever wheels with cogs were hidden somewhere inside the walls and helped pull the basket upward so the man had little trouble turning a crank as it ascended. When the basket returned, he did the same with the other half of the group.

The wall around the third floor was high enough to block the kids' view except in a few rectangular cut-outs which served as windows, but the children didn't care about looking outside anyway. The floor was crammed with tables covered with any number of fascinating devices made of metal or ceramic. The nearest one was a cube with a shaft coming out of the top. A small mirror sat atop the shaft and spun around, flashing brightly as light hit it. Better yet, the next one was a small box with metal legs attached. The legs actually moved and the box hopped up and down, over and over. Then a man and woman walked up to them.

"I am Dozent Escol, and this is Anginear Mariel. You are very welcome here, young ones," he said. He was some years past forty, had a friendly (if not handsome) face, and was dressed in the green clothes that indicated he was a member of the savant-litteratae. The woman was younger than him but still quite old in the eyes of the children, and wore the traditional outfit of anginears – a white tunic with many pockets and black trousers. The man continued, "I know this is your first visit, but you'll come back here often in the coming years. You'll learn very much and become proficient at fabricating . . . ."

"Excuse me, Dozent Escol," interrupted Caelia. "I need to have a private word with the children, please." Turning to the kids, she cupped her hands around her mouth as if hiding her lips and spoke in a loud stage whisper, "My father is really great," she told them, pretending that Escol and Mariel couldn't hear every word. The little ones enjoyed the gag. "But sometimes he makes these long boring speeches. I think I should ask him to just show us how these models work instead. Okay?" Every head nodded and Caelia returned to speaking to Dozent Escol. "Sir, could Anginear Mariel please explain to us why this one with the mirror spins like that?"

"Certainly," he replied. He smiled and turned to Mariel. "Please take over."

After Mariel told the children about the first gadget, she made her way down the row of tables giving them all sorts of interesting bits of trivia and showing them little tricks each device could perform. As Escol expected, Mariel grabbed their attention and kept them aahing and oohing in delight. The Dozent knew that sixes wouldn't remember technical details anyway, so the main goal was to excite their curiosity and keep them eager to learn in the future. Caelia understood that point better than he did and this wasn't the first time she had gotten him back on track.

Escol was extremely proud of his daughter and watched her as she kept a close eye on the children. She was easily the brightest of her age level and, he believed, the most impressive young intellectual ever. The first part was obviously true, but 'ever' is a long time and he had no way of proving the second part, a technicality which in no way diminished his opinion. Predictably, everyone agreed with him. She was also much better than he was when dealing with people – and not just with children but adults also. That ability came from her mother, and Escol and his wife were both delighted that Caelia had gotten the best traits of each of them.

Later when the session was finished, Escol stood at one of the windows and watched his daughter lead the brightly-dressed children on the way to their next stop on the tour. They followed Caelia carefully, just like baby cygnets behind a mother swan. And she was only thirteen! Yes, Escol was very proud indeed.

For perhaps the ten-thousandth time in Caelia's lifetime, Escol thought, 'What a Dozent she will make!' Then another notion entered his mind and he added, 'Or anything else she needs to be!'
CHAPTER 5

The Boy

The packed dirt of the road through the Westanian countryside was smooth enough but only one lane wide. A pasture lay on the right side with forest to the left. The man and boy rode in a small cart, and ahead a rider on a horse coming in the opposite direction rounded a curve. The horseman was not moving fast and he stayed in the center of the lane.

"I think he wants us to pull over, Pop," said the boy.

"We'll have to if he doesn't yield. If he wants to talk, I'll ask him about directions."

The approaching man wore a long leather coat and a wide brimmed hat. As he came near, the rider held up his hand and Pop reined in his cart-horse.

"Hello, strangers," the man said. His voice was firm and his eyes hard, but he didn't seem hostile. "Just passing through, are you?"

"Yes, friend," said Pop. "We're looking for Minx Crossing. Is this the right direction?"

"It's the next village you'll come to. You know someone there?"

"No, sir. We're just looking for work."

"What kind?"

"Any type at all, even if it's just odd jobs."

"Pop can do anything and I can help," the boy chimed in.

"Pop?" said the rider with a touch of amusement showing.

"My name is Poponio. My boy calls me Pop for short. His name is Pattrit."

"I'm Mattias Dalyn," said the rider. "I'm the constable for this county."

"Very nice to meet you," said Poponio. "If you don't mind me asking, do you know if any jobs are available in the village?"

"No, you're out of luck there, friend," replied the constable. "It's a small place and folks aren't likely to hire outsiders. You'd do best to keep on going to Merville. It's a bigger town. When you get to Minx, anyone there can tell you which road to take."

"Thank you for the advice," said Poponio. He noticed that Dalyn was surveying the cart-horse.

"Your mare doesn't seem to be a horse that should be pulling a cart," remarked the constable. "She's bigger than a plow horse but those long legs make her look more like a runner."

"No sir, she's always been a work horse and a good one during her prime years," replied Poponio. "Or at least that's what the man who sold her said. I wouldn't swear he was telling the truth about every detail, but she clearly was a decent horse once. I never could've afforded her except for her advanced age." Dalyn noticed the gray around the animal's muzzle and the dullness of its brown coat. Shrugging, he turned his attention back to the man and boy.

"Good looking son you got there. How old are you, lad?"

"Seventeen," the boy said.

"Pattrit! Stop doing that," Poponio said before the constable could look askance. "He's a good boy, sir, mostly. But he is prone to exaggerating. He's really fifteen."

"Boys always want to be older than they are," Dalyn said. "But when they get to be our age, everyone wants to be younger, eh Poponio?"

"Very true, sir."

"Well, I'd best be on my way," the constable said has he nudged his horse to go around the cart. "By the way, I told the truth about jobs. You really would be better off in Merville. That's not just something I said to get you to leave my county." He tipped his hat and rode on.

As the cart moved forward, Pattrit looked back at the man and said, "He was suspicious."

"Just curious, I think. It's a constable's job to be that way."

Then the boy grinned and said, "I was right, wasn't I?"

"About what, son?"

"That people will believe I'm fifteen."

"Yes, you were right," said Poponio. "Never tell your true age, I always say, and since you're tall, it's easier to convince folks that you're older rather than younger."

"I bet they'd believe I'm sixteen. After all, they believe you're a man."

"Don't be in a rush, son. Staying two years ahead of your real age is enough for now."

CHAPTER 6

Rafe and Belo

As he reached the cliff face, Rafe stopped on a small ledge and turned for one more look-around. The sun was out of sight below the cliff behind him but his eyes worked fine in the fading light. Nothing unusual was visible in any direction. The hill he had just climbed rose higher than the forest so when he looked back his view was mostly of the tops of trees. He was certain, however, that anything big enough to bother him would make noise and he didn't hear any rustling leaves or snapping twigs. Rafe took a moment to watch squirrels move out onto limbs along the route he had just taken. They always disappeared when he passed, but they had very short memories and forgot about him soon after he departed.

"Don't know why ya hide," he said to the squirrels, although in a voice too low for them to hear. Not that his speaking mattered, of course, since squirrels couldn't understand a word he said anyway. "I ain't a sneak, ya know, and it's hard for a big guy like me to catch little darty things like you," which was true enough. Rafe was a straightforward kind of guy and squirrels really did dart around a lot. "Good thing for you dat Belo's laid up right now. He'd snatch you up quick in da dark."

Turning right to face south, Rafe held his nose high and breathed in. His capacity for inhalation was considerable and his chest expanded for a long time. When every last pocket, nook, and back-alley of his lungs were filled to bursting, he exhaled and said, "Runhh." It wasn't a real word; it was just something Rafe used instead of saying damn. It was a habit. Men got less angry at him when he said things they couldn't understand instead of the actual words he meant.

Rafe considered shouting out his bold I-am-here-this-is-mine call, but he decided that perhaps he really didn't want anyone to know his location tonight. Instead he turned, took the last three steps toward the cliff face, and dropped to all fours. Well, technically he dropped to three of his fours since he carried something furry in his right hand and didn't want to get it dirty. Either way, the entrance to the cave was small and he had to crawl to enter. Belo could walk through it just by bending at the waist, but Belo was already inside. It was dark in the cave but just enough light glimmered for Rafe's vision to work. He knew that later, when it got absolutely pitch dark and eyesight was useless, he and Belo could still get around in their own ways. Belo could tell where everything was just with his ears and Rafe did nearly as well with his fine nose. Although rock surfaces seemed monotonously similar, Rafe had scent-marked each wall inside differently so he always knew where he stood. When he reached the cave itself and could stand up again, he stretched a moment and held up his furry prize for someone to see.

"Brought ya a hopper," he called out.

"Tank you," replied a faint high-pitched voice from above (nothing like Rafe's deep rumbling bass). Then with a fluttering noise, Belo appeared on the floor of the cave. "You really are good to me."

"Runhh right, I am," Rafe said as he handed over the long-legged prey. "I'm so good I'm amzin . . . amase . . ."

"Amazing," Belo finished for him. "I'm lucky to have a friend like you."

"Not dat either of us have many of those."

"Too true," Belo agreed.

"Didn't mean to kill it, but it kept wigglin' and I squeezed too hard," Rafe said about the hopper as he sat down on the floor and scratched his hip. Belo used a flat rock for a chair.

"It's fine, really."

"Da skin's not broken. Dat's good, right?"

"Yes."

"I shoulda been more careful."

"Rafe, it's perfect," Belo assured him. "It will satiate me fully. You've taken excellent care of me since I got hurt. I genuinely appreciate you. Now if you don't mind, I'll stop talking and dine."

"Ummf," Rafe said, which was a neutral acknowledgement and not a bad word. Something like 'okay' just a little easier to say. Rafe watched while his friend grabbed the hopper by its hind feet and lifted it above his head. Then he opened his small mouth and sank tiny but very sharp teeth into the animal's neck. He had not fed since early morning when Rafe had brought him the haunch of a goat left over from the big guy's own breakfast. Parts of larger animals such as that were far from ideal, however, since a lot leaked out while Rafe carried them home. The hopper with its skin intact was much better and Belo closed his eyes in contentment as he drank. Holding the meal up helped to drain it and thus partially offset the disadvantage of the prey's heart being stopped, but Belo still had to suck a bit, even if that wasn't a polite way to word it.

When he finished, Belo did not need to wipe his mouth but did anyway. He was just that sort of prim little guy. Handing over the drained hopper, he said, "You can have te leftovers. You caught it after all."

"Did ya tranquilifize it?" Rafe asked as he took the limp furry carcass from his friend.

"Why would I tranquilize it when it was already dead?"

"Don't know. Just askin'," said Rafe as he picked at the hopper's fur.

"You won't get sleepy if you eat te meat, I promise."

"Good," Rafe said as he jammed his forefinger claw into the hole made by Belo's teeth and stripped off the skin by brute force. Rafe wasn't as fastidious while eating as his friend, but he considered himself quite civilized and always picked up any bones or fur that he dropped. "It's not da same after you drain it but it's good enough to eat," Rafe said when he finished. "Needed it. Had a piglet before I came back but it wasn't very big."

"A goat tis morning and a piglet tonight. You aren't raiding a farmyard are you?"

"Not me. Pure and innocent, I am," Rafe replied. Rafe spoke well when he concentrated, but this time his lateral lisp and growling R's showed through and made the words sound like purrrrre and innossshent.

"I'll never believe you're pure and innocent," Belo said.

"Me neither, but I ain't been in any farmyards since we took off."

"Okay, I trust you."

"You better," grumbled Rafe. Knowing that his friend could take offense over the most trivial and unintended slight, Belo decided to deflect the big guy's grumpiness. He offered a little humor (well, Rafe's type anyway) to improve the mood.

"Have you ever heard te expression 'innocent as a baby lamb'?" he asked as a set-up, knowing what Rafe would say as a punch line.

"Yeah, but I ate it," answered Rafe right on cue.

"You sure are funny," Belo said with convincing sincerely despite the obvious untruth. The big one's crudities notwithstanding, Rafe was very likeable if you had a little tolerance.

"Heh, heh, heh. Yeah, I think so too." Full and satisfied for the moment, both friends let the conversation lapse for a few minutes. It picked up again when Rafe had another subject to mention.

"Da cat's gone. Dat's da good news," he said, knowing that the predator's presence in the area bothered Belo.

"I'm glad. Sometimes I worried about te cat finding tis cave when you're out. I really can't fly very well yet."

"I know. I saw how ya moved when ya wrapped your wings and I can tell it still hurts."

"You're certain about te cat?" Belo asked.

"Yup. Scent trail's very clear. He left durin' da night and went north."

"I'm relieved."

"I hate cats," Rafe growled.

"Why? You're too big for one to bother you."

"They're sneaky. They hide and jump out. Not fair, not like chasin'. And their claws stay sharp always. Don't wear out like mine. And good teef too."

"Yours are stronger."

"Theirs are sharper. Cats are a pain in da ass."

"Only if one bites yours." Belo thought he was funny too.

"Humpf," snorted Rafe, meaning he didn't like the joke. "Oh, cats are quick, I'll give 'em that. When they pounce, they can catch things in a short run. But I got stamina. Could run one down if I kept it movin' all day. Ya know, if it didn't climb a tree or hide where I couldn't get at it."

"What would you do if you caught a cat?"

"Why would I want to? They don't taste good. Tough and stringy meat, probably."

"I see," said Belo. After a moment, he thought of something else. "You said te cat leaving was te good news."

"Yeah."

"Okay, but does tat mean tere's bad news, too?" Belo started worrying when he saw his friend squirming. Rafe scratched himself in several places and emitted a low growl that according to him meant nothing but which to Belo indicated something was bothering the big guy. This is not good, Belo thought to himself as he waited until Rafe finally spoke up.

"Somethin' else on da wind."

"You mean someting you smelled?"

"Yep. Caught a scent yesterday and it's closer today. From da south," Rafe said.

And the cat went north during the night, Belo finished silently. "What was it?"

"Don't know," Rafe admitted. That surprised Belo. For Rafe to catch a scent and not identify it was more than unusual. This was worrisome, Belo knew. Something strange was out there.

"Would you describe it?" Belo recognized the foolishness of the question as soon as it came out. It was equivalent to asking an artist to describe his painting of the sunrise to a blind man. Rafe gave his best answer anyway.

"Sharp. Bitter. A little somethin' metallic and oily. And part man, part animal."

"It smelled like a man?" Belo was becoming disturbed.

"No, not like a man smells. Like some of da ugly stinks they put out when they make all dat crap of theirs."

"Hmm, I can tell you don't like it." Belo worded his comment carefully. If he had said 'it makes you nervous,' Rafe would be insulted, which was not a happy situation for anyone. It never entered Belo's mind to say something even worse such as 'it scares you.' No one ever said anything like that to the big guy. Well, certainly not twice anyway.

"Don't like it a runhh bit."

"Well, just hearing about it disturbs me." This time Belo's concentration on enunciation slipped and the S sound came out like a hiss (or perhaps a hissss) making his word seem to be 'disssssturbsss.' Not that it bothered Rafe. After all, his Ss were pretty sloppy too.

"I've been thinkin'," said Rafe.

Uh-oh, thought Belo. Definitely not a good thing. "About what?"

"We need to go find another hidey-hole," Rafe explained.

"Ssserioussly?" Belo asked. This conversation had just gone far beyond the 'not good' stage.

"We could leave tonight and travel all day tomorrow. Get a good start. There's some nice hills up north of da hu-men's big road. We could find somethin' there. So long as nobody saw us crossin' da road."

"So what if tey do see us? We're legals. We got a right to be anywhere."

"Unless our own folks rat on us to the hu-mens," Rafe pointed out. "They wouldn't . . . would they?"

"Probably not. Keep it in te family, folks always say," replied Belo. "But tey are pretty mad at us back home. If tey weren't, we wouldn't be in tis cave."

Rafe just shrugged in reply.

"Rafe, listen. Crossing te road is a small ting compared to te otter obstacles we face." Belo waited for Rafe to nod his head and then continued. "I might be able to fly a short distance at a time, but tat's not good enough which means I'd have to walk and tat would slow you down since you move faster tan me."

"Got more stamina, too."

"Obviously. I'm not embarrassed about tat since you keep going longer tan anyone."

"Thank you." Rafe said. Unlike Belo, he could pronounce TH, at least when he concentrated, but it tended to come out messy when he spoke. Sometimes he said fank instead of thank, teef rather than teeth, or dat for that; but he did it right this time and didn't spatter too much saliva.

"And tere is also my problem with sunburn. We left in such a hurry, I didn't have a chance to grab my cloak. If I'm out in te daylight wittout a cloak, you know how bad I get."

Rafe grinned and said, "I got a plan." Double uh-oh, thought Belo, but he was wrong. "Ya can pull my jacket over ya to keep da sun off and I'll carry ya on my back."

"You would? I'm really touched. I'm going to owe you a lot of favors by the time we settle down."

"Runhh right, ya will. Ya ready to leave?"

"Of course," was the reply. Belo was a smart guy with a sound mind and he understood the situation clearly.

If Rafe sniffed something on the breeze and wanted to get away in a hurry, only an insane moron with a serious suicide wish would stay behind.
CHAPTER 7

A Man in Gray

Two very different men stood on the high walkway atop a wall and looked out across the parapet. One dressed all in dark gray leaned over the edge just enough to glance down the shear drop of the wall face before him. This man was only of average height and narrow build, and yet he exuded a sense of power and fierceness out of proportion to his stature. The second, a Hibbrian by the look of him, was of middle years with thinning hair and a red face; he wore brown leather and green cloth. Worried, he was unwilling to come closer than three paces away, and not just because of the bitter, acrid odor coming from the gray man.

The gray one stood up straight and turned his helmeted head half way in the direction of the Hibbrian, not deigning to actually look at the man. Had the Hibbrian dared to look upon the face of the gray man, he would have seen pale skin, dark eyes, a hooked nose, thin lips, and a short black beard trimmed to a sharp point. But the man in brown and green did not have the courage to look; instead, he flinched and averted his eyes.

"You are the foreman?" asked the one in gray. When he spoke, a nearby blackbird hopped away and took wing to join its brethren in the fields below the wall.

"I am the chief overseer of all the laborers . . . I mean yes, I am the foreman, Exalted Master. My name is Cenaltan . . ."

"Tell me, foreman, why are these crops so poor?"

"Uh . . . it's, I mean, there are several reasons, Exalted." As he spoke, droplets of sweat dripped down Cenaltan's face despite the cool air. "The land is rocky here and the soil is poor. This area around the walls here was not cropland until we plowed it, Exalted, at considerable expense of labor . . ."

"No excuses."

"Please, Exalted Master, I am not trying to make excuses, just to explain the reasons."

"Your predecessors grew food here." His tone made clear that whoever those predecessors were, they were valueless and unworthy beings.

"Yes, Exalted, they did. But their fields are down on the plateau below where the land is better."

"Then why not use those fields?"

"We do, Exalted. They worked fine until . . ." Cenaltan hesitated, knowing his precarious situation, but he was a brave enough man in his own world and managed to continue. "Until the seeds we are required to use arrived on the annual wagon train from Nalone, Exalted. As I am sure you understand, plants which grow in the lowlands do not always prosper here due to the different conditions at this altitude. Seeds of crops adapted to the frost and this soil do well, Exalted, but not those which were sent to us."

"Then why do you use them, fool?"

"As I said, Exalted, we are required to. By the rules, you see."

The gray man snorted and glanced around at the wilted and browning crops planted in the hardscrabble fields. "You say that the train comes from Nalone?"

"I believe that is just the last way-stop, Exalted. I do not know where the train originates or who decides what to send us."

"Are you implying the wrong goods were sent? Be careful how you answer, worm. If one of us sends something, it must be right."

"I understand completely, Master. I'm just saying we could get better yields if we grew some of the old crops, too."

"That would be pointless. None of that stuff is fit to feed to any of the Highers."

"But it would feed these people, Exalted."

"To what purpose, man?"

"To make them stronger in your service, Master. Then your construction-masters could drive them harder on the building project." Like the man in gray, the construction-masters had the pale skin of the Zafiri, but they wore no beards and their gray clothes were of a lighter shade. Cenaltan disliked being around them but he felt no abject fear in their presence – unlike now.

The gray man snorted again and stood silent for several long moments. Cenaltan wasn't sure if he was dismissed or not. His fears welled up and he struggled to restrain his shaking. He wanted to say more – he needed to say more – but could he possibly do it? Reaching deep into his inner strength, he somehow found the will to draw words up to his lips.

"Exalted Master, if I may, there is something I should tell you about the people here," he said. The gray man said nothing and Cenaltan prayed that silence meant consent. "They are very dispirited . . . well, that doesn't matter. What I meant to say is that I am concerned about their condition. Hunger brings weakness and poor heath, and their reduced strength means even lower crop yields. Soon starvation will be widespread."

"So?"

"Most of the old and the very young already will not survive the coming winter, Exalted. I believe there is an advantage to keeping those of working age fit enough to labor."

"What are you, worm? Do you see yourself as the local hero standing up for your beloved people?"

"They are not my people, Master. I was ordered to come here and oversee, and if they all die then nothing will need overseeing."

After a long and worrisome pause, the gray man said, "You do not have good answers, foreman. We expect you to resolve any problems. Think long and hard before one of us returns for your next report." With that, he turned and walked away, trailing his reek behind him.

Minutes later, Cenaltan recovered enough strength to go his own way. Glancing up, he wished the sun would set faster. The Hibbrian knew the gray man would not leave the city until night so that no one could get a good look at the fearsome creature he rode.

CHAPTER 8

Two Men in Rags

A thick hedge surrounded the field and that night two figures lay hidden beneath it. One was a man of thirty and the other a youth of eighteen, and they gazed across the ground by the light of the star-dazzle. The hedge branches picked at their clothes and tried to pull threads loose, but that hardly mattered considering the already tattered condition of the garments they wore.

"See, Myron? Just like I told you, ears of maize are lying on the ground," whispered the younger one.

"Those aren't good ears, Izak," his older companion replied. "Those are all stunted and rotten. That's why the pickers left them in the first place. There's nothing you could eat out there."

"But there must be a few good kernels, at least," pleaded Izak. "There must be something to eat."

"You couldn't get half a mouthful of anything edible from the whole field. Worse, you'd eat some of the rotten parts and get sick. Izak, come with me now. We're going home."

"No! If you won't come with me, I'll go by myself."

"Listen to me," said Myron. "If I could get anything at all for my wife and daughters I would risk it, but there's nothing here. I'm going home and you need to come with me."

"I don't have anyone at home," whispered Izak. He was on the verge of crying. "I lost my parents and little brother last year. It's only me and I'm starving. The Hibbrians make guys like us work harder than anyone but we don't get any more food."

"That's not true, Izak. The chief Hibbrian really does give more food to workers. You and I are better off than the old people and children." Myron immediately regretted the thoughtlessness of his remark. He shouldn't have said that after Izak had just mentioned his family. "I know how much of your portion you give away. That's incredibly good of you."

"I'm so hungry."

"I know, but doing this won't help anything."

Izak's voice became stronger and more resolute. "I understand, Myron. You should go now. Daisy and your girls need you, but no one needs me."

"We all need you. Now if you won't come willingly, I'll drag you."

"You can't. That would make noise and you'd get caught too."

Myron knew the truth of that. "I've known you since you were born, boy. Our families have lived side by side forever. You're breaking my heart." Izak grabbed one of Myron's hands in both of his.

"I'm sorry, Myron. You've always been good to me and I hate to make you sad, but you can't stop me. I'll be careful. If I don't find anything good right away, I'll run."

"You know what'll happen if a guard dog gets a whiff of you. The Yuzoi will kill you just for being outside your house at night. It doesn't matter to them that you're just picking up garbage and not stealing anything worthwhile."

"I want you to go now," Izak said. "I won't let you stay here. I'll wait long enough for you to get away before I go out into the field, but I am going."

Myron wanted to say more but his voice choked up. All he could do was squeeze Izak's hands before crawling out from under the hedge and hurrying away. He was almost home when he heard a dog barking and the awful sound of a Yuzoi weapon firing.
CHAPTER 9

Graice and Holder § 3

"Please stay seated, Ignacio," Madrére Sybille told him. She and Graice sat in soft comfortable chairs while Ignacio perched on a hard wooden stool. "I wish you would sit on something nicer when you talk to us, old friend." She raised a hand to forestall his attempted protest and continued. "At least stop popping up and down and keep your eyes up when you speak."

"I am sorry, Madrére," he said. "But you do overstate my temerity, and you are exaggerating that last part. I'm as comfortable on this as I would be on any of these chairs and I'm just trying to be respectful."

"I don't want you to be sorry. You're important and valuable to us, Ignacio. You can be respectful and aware of your own worth at the same time."

"I am . . .," he started to say, but Sybille cut him off.

"If the next word is sorry, I will turn Sistére Graice loose on you."

Ignacio's expression showed no concern and he raised an eyebrow as he turned to the Sistére.

"Don't worry," Graice said. "The Madrére is attempting to make a joke about my atrocious reputation, but unlike me she has no sense of humor at all. It's certainly proper for you not to be amused."

"Should I apologize now for implying something is humorous about your reputation, Graice?" Sybille said. She was more serious when she turned to the man. "Ignacio, you do know that neither of us would ever attempt to influence you with effect, don't you?"

"Certainly, Madrére, and it is quite obvious that Sistére Graice has not done so today."

"How is it obvious?" Graice asked.

"If you had, Sistére, I would feel calm and peaceful right now rather than tense and nervous, would I not?" he answered. Both women caught the twinkle in his eye. "Will that be all, Madrére?"

"Yes, thank you. Oh, where is Holder now, Ignacio?"

"In his room."

"On your way out, please tell whichever girl is at the door to fetch him for us."

"To the yard, Madrére?"

"No, have him brought inside today. It will rain soon, I think."

"Madrére, shouldn't I get him instead of the girl?"

"No need for that. Just remind her that she'll have real regrets if she behaves improperly around him."

"I will," Ignacio replied as he rose to leave. "Madrére, should I tell her that you will punish her for misbehavior or that Sistére Graice will? Which would be more threatening?" As he turned, his twinkle expanded to an ever-so-slight smile and Graice had to suppress a chuckle. "And earlier I was going to say that I do appreciate my worth, not that I was sorry."

As the door closed behind the man, Graice turned to Sybille and said, "Do you think he's funnier than we are?"

"I believe all three of us would fail completely if we tried to entertain anyone with our clever banter," Sybille said. "But I was serious when I spoke about effect, Graice. You must not . . ."

"I'm offended that you think I might, Madrére. No lecture, please! Do you believe I would devalue Ignacio's true devotion by doing such a thing?"

Sybille returned Graice's gaze for a moment and then said, "Hmmm."

"What does that mean?"

"Perhaps that I think you're still too young to have perfect judgment."

Graice's eyes flashed for the tiniest moment but then her face and Aura calmed. "Apparently you think I need to hear that lecture again even though I'm twenty-four and have worn the red sash for a full year already."

"I won't lecture you but twenty-four is still young. Age brings experience and . . ."

"And wisdom?" Graice interjected. "That's just what old people say."

Sybille shook her head slowly and said, "Surely you admit that your circumstances are as extraordinary as your ability."

"The foundling baby who became a Sistére? That doesn't seem remarkable to me, not even if you take my appearance into account," Graice replied. With a bit of sarcasm, she added, "Oh wait, I think you mean I'm special because I'm the youngest."

"It's the other way around. You're the youngest because you're so exceptional, Graice," said Sybille. "You know very well that the second youngest Sistére to earn the red sash was thirty-six at the time and she lived over a century ago. Most Sistéres can calm a man's quick temper or sooth a crying baby and nothing more. Those who wear green sashes are perfectly happy, and the ones who earn blue are honored. Even most Madréres don't wear red, only a small percentage do."

"I thought you said you weren't going to lecture."

A knock on the door interrupted and Helena led Holder in from the kitchen. The girl stopped and lowered her head as he walked past – all very proper until she peeked out of the corner of her eye. Suddenly Helena twitched and her head snapped up to find Graice peering straight at her. The girl realized her twitch had been caused by a quick stab of guilty feeling.

'Act like a lady' Graice signaled through her Aura. Helena had enough skill to read that. She feared that the guilt sensation might come back and stay, but the Sistére smiled and signaled 'go now'. The girl did.

"Welcome and please sit," Sybille said to Holder. "Use a chair instead of that stool. One of the wooden ones if you don't want cushions."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said politely as he sat.

"I'm sorry we weren't able to speak with you yesterday. Ignacio says you used the time to return to the caravanserai."

"I did. I had left some things there which I retrieved."

"Did you inquire about employment while you were there?" Graice asked.

"No caravans are forming in Matik at present," he answered. "There was no one to ask."

"I see," said Sybille. "Have you finished the chores Ignacio gave you?"

"Yes, but they're too easy. I need to do some real work to pay you for the food and shelter."

"Actually, Graice and I want talk to you about that very subject. We wish to offer you full time employment. Real work, as you say. Are you interested?"

"Yes, ma'am," he answered.

"Good. We're trying to arrange an important journey and we're having difficulty getting organized. With your experience, you could help us both before and after we start. I'm prepared to pay you three silver pecunia per week in Matik coin or any other equivalent you choose. Will that be satisfactory?"

"Rispoli paid two a week," he replied.

Graice signaled 'so much for our clever bargaining', and Sybille flashed back 'don't interrupt'.

"Good. It's agreed then," Sybille said to Holder. "Let's start now because we need your advice."

"Where are we going, ma'am?"

"To the east."

"Saying 'the east' covers much territory. Do you have someplace more specific in mind?"

"A location slightly north of east," Sybille said, but then she saw the glare Graice was giving her. Returning to Holder, she said, "I'm sorry to seem evasive, Holder, but we don't want anyone to learn of our destination. Will you promise to keep it a secret if I tell you?"

"Yes, and I do not use the word promise lightly. If you knew me better, you would understand that." As he spoke, Holder's Aura flared almost as if he had intentionally signaled his meaning. How could a man do that?

Sybille inhaled and told him, "At this moment, I don't need to know any more to see that you're an honest man, Holder. We're going to Lucidus. Do you know where that is?"

"Yes," he replied. "On the Fallal River northward of the Eastway Road. It has a wall around the town although not a high and strong one, and the river isn't fordable from the east. It's a nice enough place but some lands beyond are not pleasant. How will we travel, ma'am?"

"We hoped to sail upstream on the River as far as Torae and then hire a coach of some sort for the rest of the trip. Certain complications have arisen, however, and we don't have sufficient funds to travel in that manner. Now it seems our only choice is to buy a wagon and go entirely by road. We can afford a yoke of oxen, I believe."

"Oxen? You're not in a hurry, then."

"Actually, we wish to get there as soon as possible but our budget is very limited. We can't afford horses," Sybille told him.

"Why not use waybeasts? They're not as fast as horses but are much faster than oxen. You'll need four but that's about the same price as two oxen. Healthy ones could easily pull a wagon that far."

"But they're such unruly creatures. How could we control them?"

"By hiring me."

"Well then, do you know how to acquire such animals, Holder? And a used wagon at a cheap price while you're at it?"

"Yes, I do. When Captain Rispoli did any trading, Dimas and I always went with him. Dimas to keep track of the money and me to make sure it wasn't stolen. The Captain did the talking but I paid attention. I know what to look for and how much to pay."

"You're more helpful than I imagined, Holder. I'll send Ignacio with you to make the purchases."

"We can get the other equipment we need at the same time."

"What other equipment?"

"You did say you wanted to keep your destination secret and your budget was limited," he said, and Sybille nodded in acknowledgement. "Ma'am, camping is more covert and less expensive than staying in inns."

"Camping?"

"Yes. Do you have enough clothes for a trip?"

"We do have spare robes if needed. The cloth is warm, durable, and stays clean."

Lines formed on Holder's forehead as he frowned. "May I be blunt?"

"Go ahead."

"If you don't want anyone to know where you're going then you should consider wearing less obvious clothing. I also recommend not taking the Eastway Road all the way. Traffic on the highway is observable to anyone who watches. If you don't want to be seen, I can show you another path."

"Please explain, Holder."

"Ma'am, a few leagues out of Matik the highway crosses the High Road. We can turn there during the night. After four days on the High Road, we'll reach a narrow side road leading to a small town and a couple of villages. After that, a trail goes through the Veridis Hills. That part isn't a road, exactly, but it's passable to a wagon with a little effort. When we reach the Fallal Valley, we'll find good roads leading to Lucidus. Fewer people will see you on that route, and none at all will on the part going through the hills. Of course, I don't know your reason for being evasive. Only you can decide how much effort you want to make."

"You are truly helpful, Holder," responded Sybille. "I assume you know this route from your journeys?"

"Caravans often go where the good roads do not. There's less competition in those places. This route will take around twenty days. More than thirty if you use oxen instead of waybeasts."

"Taking the highway would be faster."

"Yes, unless someone tries to stop us on the road." Then he added, "We'll need to carry our own food, of course."

Sybille turned to Graice, who smiled and said, "I think we should stop pretending we aren't impressed."

"Please assure me that these creatures don't always smell this bad," Ignacio said to Holder as they walked. Men were walking to and fro in the stockyard, often stopping to look at the variety of animals inside the fences.

"It's not so bad if there are just a few of them and they're out in the open. Having so many crammed together in these pens causes the problem," replied Holder. "And don't hold that cloth over your nose. It makes you like a . . , oh, never mind. I nearly said a word that Sistére Graice would not approve. I should concentrate on my manners."

"Indeed. I must say that we've done well today. That was a better price than I expected on the wagon. Are you sure it's sturdy enough?"

"It should be and it's the right size to be pulled by waybeasts," said Holder. "Ah, there's the man we're looking for ahead."

"Which one?"

"The one with the heavy black beard standing by that gate. His name is Studoe, and Rispoli bought several waybeasts from him."

When they reached the man, Ignacio spoke. "Mr. Studoe?"

"Yeah, I'm Studoe. You don't have to call me mister. What can I do for you?"

"We need four waybeasts," said Ignacio. "Healthy ones, please."

"All my livestock is healthy, friend. You did bring money, I trust."

"Yes, but my friend here will make the selection rather than me," Ignacio said. Turning to Holder, Studoe looked up.

"You look familiar. Yeah, I remember. You came with that snake Rispoli and stood behind him. To keep anyone from stabbing the bastard in the back as he deserves, no doubt. Must've been a busy job."

"True," Holder said. "May we see some of your stock now?"

Turning, Studoe whistled and shouted, "Bring a team over for these gentlemen to see, Rufus." That man spoke to three others and each took a beast by the reins and began tugging it towards the fence. Holder studied the animals as they arrived.

"I'll consider the first three but not the one that the man in the red cap is holding," Holder declared. "It's favoring its right foreleg and will go lame after a few days on the road. I see the way your man is trying to hide him behind the others, you know."

"What!" sputtered Studoe.

"Before you get angry at me, go take a look," Holder told him. The trader glared back for a moment and then stomped over to where the waybeast in question stood. He leaned down and ran his hand up and down the creature's foreleg. Then he stood up and shoved his employee hard, berating him with a blast of language that no Sistére would ever condone.

"Sorry about that," he said when he stormed back to Holder and Ignacio. "I just hired that boy and he learned some bad behavior from his last employer. If he don't mend his ways quick, he'll be out on his ass. Friends, I run a reputable business and don't try to cheat no one."

"I know," Holder assured him. "We came here today because Captain Rispoli said he trusted you. Since he's the most suspicious and devious man I ever met, I figure that anyone he trusts must be truly honest."

Studoe stared at Holder for a moment and then leaned back and burst out with a massive guffaw. "I like you, friend, and I didn't even know you could talk before today. We'll get some more beasts brought over and you can have your pick."

"Thank you for helping me pack, Caroletta," Graice said as the girl reached for the last garment.

"You're welcome, Sistére," the girl replied. As she held up the piece of clothing, a pair of trousers in Graice's size, her eyes widened. "Are you really going to wear these, Sistére?"

"They'll cover my legs, won't they?" replied Graice. Caroletta showed intense curiosity and some amazement on her face and Graice smiled in return. "I'll only need those if the going gets so rough that dresses won't do. Put the pants in the trunk instead of the small bag, please." The girl tried hard but she could not quite suppress a soft laugh as she packed the trousers and closed the trunk lid. Graice gave her a raised eyebrow.

"I'm sorry Sistére. I don't want to seem disrespectful. It's just that I never heard of a Sistére wearing a disguise before. And to think of Madrére Sybille not wearing her robe! It's astonishing!"

"I don't think you're being disrespectful and I suppose it is astonishing, but I've done this before. That's why I have these clothes. Now, will you help me braid my hair? I want to put it up in a bun."

"Of course, Sistére. Um, will you change your clothes before . . .?"

"Yes. You'll see us both in dresses before we leave. You'd best control your reaction in front of the Madrére, though. She's not very calm and peaceful at the moment."

"Oh! Thank you for reminding me. I'll be completely proper!" Caroletta promised but she couldn't stop another giggle as she reached for a comb and brush for Graice's hair.

No light at all shined from the windows of the House, not even a candle, and the trees around it blocked much of the star-dazzle which otherwise would have provided some visibility. The back door opened and two cloaked figures emerged. A third awaited them at the rear gate of the white fence and together the three stepped carefully through the shadows. From inside the darkened Way-House, the eyes of Yonah and the three girls tried to follow them but the figures were soon lost in the gloom.

"I wish I could go with them," Helena said.

"You're needed here, daughter," Yonah replied. "Things will get back to normal now and we'll have our usual number of Sistéres to attend to."

"I wish I could go, too," said Aceila and they all continued staring out the windows long after nothing could be seen.

Graice, Sybille, and Ignacio emerged onto a street which was smaller and less well lit than Regents Avenue. The few streetlamps were barely enough for them to make their way. No one spoke and all three wore soft footwear which made little sound on the cobblestones. Occasionally dogs barked as they passed but not loudly enough to wake their owners. They turned left on one street and then right on another. Once they made a detour when they saw a night watchman on his rounds. The man carried a lantern which made him much more visible to them than they were to him.

After a time Graice asked, "Are you all right, Madrére?"

"Don't be condescending. I can keep up with a youngling like you no matter how far we walk," insisted Sybille and before long they saw what they were looking for ahead of them.

"It's stuffy in here. Is it necessary to keep the shutters closed? No one could see us in this darkness anyway," said Sybille. She rode with Graice and Ignacio in a closed carriage.

"You're the one who decided on secrecy, Madrére. You shouldn't complain about it," replied Graice.

"I know you're right, Graice, but at my age I should be allowed to grumble every now and then," said Sybille.

"The concealment is worth the trouble, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. After everything we've learned since reaching Matik, I believe that keeping our purpose hidden is necessary. This is Holder's idea, isn't it Ignacio? The manner in which we're departing, I mean."

"Indeed, ma'am," Ignacio replied. "I believe he considers us to be insufficiently versed in the art of devious ploys, and so he feels the need to guide us in these crafty machinations. His plan does make sense, though. Had he brought the wagon to the Way-House, our departure would've been obvious. Better for him to keep it hidden and us to go to it, and Holder knows our carriage driver is a trusted friend. Leaving before dawn is also a rational idea."

"The idea of sneaking out of the back of the House and walking to meet the carriage was clever, too," Graice added.

"You seem to be enjoying the adventure, Sistére. Try to remember this isn't a game," said Sybille. "One more thing, Ignacio, please remember not to use our titles. In fact, I think it's best if you don't say ma'am either. You might slip and say the wrong word by mistake. Besides, it's not the custom for a man to address a woman of his own age as ma'am. You and I, of course, will still be able to refer to someone Graice's age as 'child' regardless of whether or not she approves."

"We'll tell everyone she's adopted, ma . . . Sybille," said Ignacio. After a brief hesitation, he added, "I do admit that it's difficult to say just Sybille without your title."

"Then we'll call her something else, Ignacio," suggested Graice. "We should have secret names to give to strangers anyway. I say we call her Orela Sægesse. It has the same meaning as her real name."

"Excellent choice, child," said Ignacio, and he turned to Sybille and added, "Orela, we should in turn name our adopted daughter Elysia because she is sweet and blissful."

With a laugh, Graice asked, "And what of you, Father?"

"I'm not famous. Ignacio will do fine since no one knows that name."

"You two are having too much fun with this," said Sybille. Then a knock came from the front of the carriage.

"That's the driver's signal that we're almost there," Ignacio explained. "I'm glad the baggage was sent separately."

"It seems to be a good wagon, Holder," Sybille said as she approached. To her untrained eye it looked simple but sturdy and it had a canvas cover which would provide concealment. "Have you finished loading?"

"Everything is ready and the waybeasts are harnessed. We can leave as soon as you wish. May I show you the inside, ma'am?"

"Her name is Orela Sægesse now," Graice said before Sybille could reply. "But she'll still let you call her ma'am since you're younger than her. Mother Sægesse would also be proper, I think. I'm Elysia, by the way."

"I'm still Ignacio," the man said, "But I've become Elysia's adoptive father."

"Don't take them too seriously, Holder," said Sybille. "My child here thinks it'll be amusing to use secret names with strangers, but you can say our real names when it's just us."

"I'll remember to say Mother Sægesse and Miss Elysia when anyone else is listening." Holder smiled and seemed to be imitating Ignacio's tone of voice as he said it. Then he stepped to the back of the wagon and held open the flap of the canvas cover for them to look inside. "With your baggage and all the gear, it will be a tight squeeze back here for you and Miss Elysia, ma'am." The interior was lined with trunks, bags, and bundles of various sizes piled high and secured with ropes to prevent anything from falling. In the center, a small rectangular space was lined with blankets and pillows.

"Graice, will you be able to sleep with me jammed next to you?" Sybille asked.

"Yes, Mother," Graice replied. "Holder, you did get tents also, right?"

"Yes, two. One for Ignacio and me and another for you two if you choose to use it. We also have buffoe skins to cover the ground, bed rolls, camp cooking gear, water flasks, and other things. I put my belongings under the driver's bench in front. We have enough food so that we won't have to stop and buy any."

"This is a remarkable quantity of material considering the small amount of money you spent," remarked Sybille.

"You should have seen him in the markets," Ignacio commented. "He learned a lot more on his last job than just how to stand guard."

"The whole purpose of a caravan is to sell something for more than it cost you. That's easier if you get good bargains to start with," said Holder. "Everything you see is used, of course, but new gear would attract attention anyway. Are you still determined to travel in secret?"

"Yes. The more I think about it, the more certain I am despite any discomfort we may have as a result," Sybille replied.

"Then the two of you should climb in and stay out of sight. If we leave through Sudost Gate, we'll be on the highway by first light."

CHAPTER 10

Graice and Holder § 4

At one time, Matik's city wall had surrounded the entire metropolis but the population had continued to increase and sprawl. Now it merely divided Matik into inner and outer halves, each with more people than many dozens of ordinary cities combined. Passing through the wall at Sudost Gate in the darkness, Holder guided the sleepy waybeasts through the winding and ill-planned streets of outer Matik. He and Ignacio sat on the driver's bench at the front of the wagon while Graice and Sybille remained out of sight inside. The clattering made by the wheels on the rough cobblestone streets was enough to induce barking by dogs and curses from residents complaining about being awakened. These barks and curses in turn aroused other canines and woke up more complainers who naturally added their own woofing and growling to the increasing decibel level until the clamor itself drowned out the noise of the wagon. Such things were common in outer Matik, of course, and attracted no particular attention.

As Holder had predicted, they reached the highway as the sun appeared in the east and they left behind any worries of narrow ways and rough surfaces. The magnificent Eastway Road was no mere street and it existed for a reason. From Matik westward to the sea the Grandis Fluve, the Great River, flowed wide and smooth and was easily navigable for any sort of vessel. Plenty of roads crisscrossed that part of the countryside but no major highways were needed there. Upstream of Matik, however, the nature of the River began to change and navigation became ever more difficult as travelers journeyed farther east. When the River first crossed the border from its sources in the distant east, in fact, it flowed past Anglio as a swift torrent which made passage upstream very slow.

To compensate for the increasingly unreliable River, therefore, the Eastway Road had been constructed long ago. Some believed it had once been named Ôriens Wia and was laid out in Anziên times. How else could it run in such a perfect straight line? The original surface, these people claimed, lay somewhere buried under the myriad layers of paving stone which had been added during the ages since then. Others scoffed at the idea and asked why would anyone cover over a true Anziên surface if there was one? The only method of proving the point either way would be to dig deep under the road. Since such a hole would interrupt travel and obstruct commerce, no one knew the true answer.

Regardless of its exact origins, the highway was wide, smooth, and straight. For the first league of the highway, it seemed that the city followed it. Businesses offering a variety of goods and services lined both sides of the road. Most merchants sold legitimate, albeit overpriced, merchandize of the expected types – food stores, animal feed, warm coats, and so forth. The taverns seemed quite respectable, being in open sight as they were; but unlike on the south-side of Matik, however, businesses which were not legitimate were well hidden. Purveyors of that sort obviously feared censure from a traveling Sistére or the destructive arrival of a phalanx of angry women from the Patroness's Decency Brigade. As travelers continued onward, the buildings thinned out into a pattern of scattered villages lying parallel to the highway.

After three hours on the road, Holder still had the obdurate but sturdy waybeasts pulling the wagon along the right edge of the highway. Sometimes Holder snapped his long whip to keep the beasts moving and occasionally Ignacio asked a question or made a comment, but most of the time the only sounds came from animal hooves and squeaking wheels. Then Ignacio bumped the back of his foot against something under the bench. Looking down he saw the bundle Holder had placed there earlier and when he reached to push it aside the canvas wrapping fell open.

"Is this a weapon?" Ignacio asked with a gasp.

"Yes. That's a stabbing spear on top with a bow and arrows underneath," Holder replied as Ignacio stared at a long willow-leaf shaped blade attached to a short wooden shaft. "You remember when I brought those back from the caravanserai, don't you?"

"Oh dear! I had no idea what was in your bundle. You put this in the guest room at the Way-House, didn't you?"

"Yes, and then I moved it here when we bought the wagon."

"I hope Sybille doesn't find out."

"Find out what?"

"That weapons were on Way-House property. It's against the rules," Ignacio answered.

"I didn't know."

"Of course not, how could you? I didn't think to tell you. Well, maybe Sybille and Graice won't ask. Holder, have you ever used these on a man?"

"No, absolutely not! I could never hurt any person no matter what the reason."

The tone surprised Ignacio. Being a guard on a traveling caravan must be a tough job. Why would he be so adamantly against hurting anyone?

"The weapons are protection from dangerous animals, Ignacio, and I have killed some of those," Holder continued. "Three cats and two bears on different occasions, and several wolven."

"Wolven? Do you mean loupins?"

"Of course not. How could you think such a thing? I was talking about animals, not persons," Holder replied. "And the correct name is lupuns. They don't like hearing it mispronounced."

"I'm sorry. It's just that I've haven't been around many loupins – I mean lupuns – and haven't seen a wolve at all."

"There's no comparison at all between the two, but you won't find out the difference on this trip. You might see wolven in the Veridis Hills but we won't be going to Hinterland," Holder explained. Then he nodded at the bundle behind Ignacio's feet and said, "Cover up the weapons, please. It's best not to let them be seen on the highway."

"Certainly," replied Ignacio and he fell silent.

It was a pleasant day but by noon the sunshine had heated up the wagon's canvas top and all that was under it. The flaps were kept down for privacy so little air flowed inside and the two women were uncomfortable in their cramped space despite the smooth ride on the well-paved highway. Both wore cottonne dresses with long skirts and high necklines to protect decorum. Sybille's had wide stripes in shades of tan and russet, while Graice's was solid blue of a medium shade.

"Why do you get to wear the blue and I don't?" asked Sybille.

"Because blue is not my color," replied Graice. "You know I didn't bring anything white or red. Try not to be too grumpy."

"I'm not grumpy, just in a little distress, and I dislike using that chamber pot we brought. It's likely to spill while the wagon is moving."

"Do you want me to call forward and ask Holder to stop again?"

"No, don't bother. I'm sure he'll give us a chance for relief as soon as we find privies or another sheltered place. It's best to let him pick the spot so we'll be seen by as few people as possible."

"Am I in any danger?" asked Graice. "After all, it is close quarters in here and wetness would not be pleasant."

"Don't give me that sweet look, Graice. You may amuse yourself but I won't laugh at your innuendo. And no, you are not in danger. I haven't had an accident of that sort since I was a baby."

"A baby? You?" Graice said as she radiated mock surprise. "I didn't know you were ever a baby. Everyone at Academy always said that you came into the world fully matured and looking exactly as you do now."

"Very droll, daughter."

"Are you really going to call me that? I'm not sure people will believe it even if you say I'm adopted."

"I think you're right," admitted Sybille. "But I don't know how we could improve on our story. Obviously, we can't imply you're a blood relative, not even a distant cousin. People may accept Ignacio and me as a married couple, and we'll explain Holder as our hired man, but you just don't match."

"Yes, I know. Maybe I should wear trousers and a loose shirt so people will think I'm a boy. I'm the same height as a lot of youngsters and Ignacio has an old hat he'll give to me."

"Are you going to cut off your hair, Graice?"

"No, but with it braided I can keep it up like now and wear the hat over it; or I can let the braid down and tuck it under my shirt in back. With the collar turned up, the hair wouldn't show. Well, not much, anyway."

"Concealing your gender wouldn't hide the tilt of your eyes, Graice," said Sybille. Then she added, "You posing as a boy? Now that's something to laugh at. Almost."

The warm day made Ignacio drowsy but he forced himself to remain alert as he and Holder sat on the front bench. Holder had asked him to watch all of the other traffic around them for any signs that looked suspicious. An hour earlier, Ignacio had noticed a rider some distance behind the wagon.

"Check and see if he's still there, please," Holder said. Ignacio rose just high enough to peek over the canvas wagon cover, and he did not turn his head all the way around, just sideways as if he were observing something beside the road. By moving his eyes in their sockets, he could see behind well enough to find out what he wanted to know.

"Still there," he told Holder.

"I'm going to stop. Tell the ladies to remain inside unless they've changed their minds about secrecy," said Holder and Ignacio stuck his head through the flap of the wagon's canvas cover. He couldn't see them because of the baggage stacked inside but he knew they could hear him.

"Holder says to stay inside when he stops the wagon," he said.

"There is some urgency back here," he heard Sybille's voice say. "Why must we stay in, Ignacio?"

"Because we're being followed."

"How can you tell?"

"I saw him. He's on horseback and all other riders have passed us quickly yet this one still plods along behind us at our own speed," Ignacio explained.

"Will this take long?" asked Graice. "Mother is not the only one back here with a need to step outside."

"We'll have to see what this man does. I'll let you know as soon as possible," Ignacio told them. When he pulled his head out from the canvas cover, Ignacio saw Holder nod towards a small stand of trees beside the road ahead. Waiting until the wagon was beside the trees, Holder pulled hard on the reins to take the wagon off the edge of the highway. The waybeasts honked their displeasure at this abrupt demand on them, but in their hearts they really had no objection to stopping and so they quieted quickly. Tying the reins and setting the brake, Holder climbed down and moved to inspect the hoof of one of the beasts. He didn't look back, just sideways as Ignacio had done. The rider behind pulled his horse to a stop.

"This one's shoe is coming loose. I need to re-nail it," Holder said loudly. Ignacio understood that he meant to be overheard.

"Will it take long?" Ignacio called back at equal volume.

"Long enough so you can climb down and stretch your legs for a while. Don't worry. We'll still get to Torae on time."

Ignacio took the hint and stepped down towards Holder. The rider hesitated a moment but the man realized that if he remained stationary his intentions would be obvious. Nudging his horse to a trot, he rode past the wagon. He wore ordinary clothes and Holder only got a brief glimpse of his face. A moment later, the rider spurred his horse and hurried eastward.

"I recognize his type," Holder said softly to Ignacio as they headed to the back of the wagon.

Proving that he had indeed thought of everything, Holder had brought large panels of cloth and poles to hold them. He quickly erected a privacy screen among the trees and the women hurried behind it. After an appropriate amount of time passed in silence, Holder asked through the cloth, "Shall I move the screen for you now to a more pleasant spot?"

"We would ask you to do that but shouldn't we get back in the wagon now?" replied Sybille.

"Not yet. As soon as I rearrange this screen, I'll explain. I see Ignacio getting some food now." Minutes later the screen still blocked the view from the road and they all sat behind it, the women on mats Ignacio brought from the wagon while the men made do on the grass. Ignacio handed out cheese slices, dried fruit, and squares of something that resembled flatbread in color but not texture.

"What is this?" Sybille asked suspiciously.

"It's called tack. It's hard enough to pound in small nails, you see," Holder answered. "It's easier to eat if you dunk it in your caffeé first, or whatever you have to drink."

"I'll try it," Graice said as she stuck the end of her piece into her water cup. Sybille and Ignacio watched and waited. After a minute Graice took it out, but even with it soaked, she still had to gnaw to break off a corner. "It doesn't taste like much," she mumbled.

"I know," Holder agreed as he dunked his own. "But it's as nutritious as bread and it doesn't spoil."

"If it gets stale, will it get harder than this?" asked Ignacio. He studied his own piece closely with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

"I don't think that's possible," said Graice, still talking around her first bite. Ignacio bravely followed her lead but Sybille laid her square down and nibbled at the fruit instead.

"Holder, why are we waiting here?" Sybille asked. "Shouldn't we hurry and leave while that man is away?"

"He'll wait for us someplace. He's Sarkonian, in case that means anything to you," said Holder. If it did, Sybille and Graice both kept it hidden from him.

"I never heard of Sarkonians before the High Protector died," Ignacio said. "Now people everywhere curse them almost as much as they do the Yuzoi."

"Let's stay here for a while," Holder told them. "I want to time our arrival at the crossroads with the High Road precisely. We'll get there at dusk and stop, and then we'll move again during the night."

"Hmm," said Sybille. "Well, we've relied on your advice so far. I don't see why we should change now."

"We started early and we'll be up late," Holder said. "The waybeasts need rest and so do we. You ladies should stretch as much as possible. Your arms and legs must be cramped after your confinement."

Sybille analyzed his comment as best she could. Despite her inability to read him, she decided that his reference to their limbs was innocent. His words made sense and were in keeping with his direct manner of speaking. As soon as Sybille relaxed, however, Graice rose to her feet, raised her arms over her head, and stretched her entire body in full view of the two men. Alarmed, Sybille opened her mouth to chastise the young Sistére. Making that motion in front of Ignacio, who discreetly looked away, was one thing but doing it in front of Holder was another entirely. What was the girl thinking? Or perhaps the right question was why wasn't she thinking?

Closing her mouth, Sybille decided to remain silent for now. Although Holder had glanced briefly at Graice, he had turned quickly to go about his business. Any man who had the courage to look would call Graice beautiful. She wasn't wearing her robe now and Holder was immune to her effect, but his attention to Graice was still perfectly gentlemanly. It seemed he wasn't attracted physically. Interesting, Sybille thought, but then something else occurred to her.

Whatever happened to the voice of Madrére Antonetta inside Graice's head?

They reached the crossroads as Holder had planned but they stayed on the Eastway Road rather than turning north. Half a league farther, he stopped to buy feed for the waybeasts from a roadside vendor and then turned the wagon off the highway into a large field. Plenty of ruts and wheel marks crisscrossed the ground, indicating that many other travelers who were too poor or cheap to stay in inns had spent the night there before.

Shortly afterwards two large freight wagons, each pulled by a dozen beasts, followed them into the field. The insignia on the wagons was that of a prosperous trade association but the drivers themselves were poorly paid employees. The Sarkonian rider who'd followed them earlier tried to hide behind one of the freighters but Holder spotted him. Holder began putting extra grease on the axles and making other preparations while Ignacio attended to their evening meal. The women ate inside the wagon and the men outside. Later Graice, Sybille, and Ignacio went to sleep.

Ignacio woke when Holder shook him gently and said, "Quiet. Our follower is asleep now. Wake the ladies while I deal with the waybeasts."

"What time is it?" Ignacio asked as he yawned.

"Quarter-morn. The sun will rise in four hours. We need to get moving."

Ignacio performed his duty without actually touching Sybille and Graice and whispered a reminder to them, "Don't let your voices be heard." Closing the canvas cover, he walked to where Holder stood with the waybeasts. The animals were asleep on their feet, which was a normal position for such creatures, until Holder took a handful of some herb from a sack and held it in front of each beast's nose. One by one, they woke up and stretched their flapping lips and long tongues to take the treats. Leaning close so they could speak in whispers, Ignacio asked, "Is that some special food for them?"

"It temporarily numbs their throats so they can't squawk as they usually do. Now I'll tie those burlap bags we filled with straw over their hooves," Holder replied. Ignacio knew this was no time for questions but he couldn't help wondering: how does this guy think of all these things?

The wagon made little noise when it moved and no one woke as they left the field onto the highway. Crossing between two marker stones on the center line, Holder turned left into the westbound lanes to head back to the crossroads. After retracing the extra half league they had taken eastward, the wagon turned right onto the High Road. Some distance later, Holder stopped long enough to remove the bags from the waybeasts' hooves so they wouldn't attract attention.

The sun was up and shining when the noise of a passing wagon woke Graice and Sybille. Yawning and rubbing her eyes Sybille asked, "Do you know where we are, Graice?"

"Not exactly. Somewhere north of the River on the side of the High Road," replied Graice as she peeked out the rear of the wagon's cover. "That means we've entered Amicitia but I don't see any people or buildings nearby."

"I'm sure that's why Holder picked this spot to stop." The region of Amicitia was primarily a rural area with many small-hold farms and villages. Although numerous minor towns also dotted the landscape, so did plenty of unpopulated tracts of land. The region's only cities lay on the boundaries of the territory – Anstrella on the western edge with Torae and Iteneris southward. The fourth city, Lucidus, lay on the bank of the Fallal River which was the eastern border of the region.

Outside the wagon, Ignacio heard their voices and asked, "Mother Orela and Miss Elysia, may I enter?"

"Yes, of course. We slept in our clothes so we're decent albeit rumpled," Sybille told him. Ignacio lifted the canvas flap at the back of the wagon and stuck his head in, which is what he meant to do when he'd asked for permission to enter. Sybille said, "I have a better question, Ignacio. May we come out?"

"Holder asks that you wait a moment, ladies. A trader's wagon just passed but there's no other traffic on the road right now. As soon as the trader is out of sight, you may exit in privacy." After a moment Ignacio said, "All right, it's safe now."

As the two women stepped out of the wagon, Sybille said, "Ah," when she saw that the privacy screen was already erected. "Excuse us," she said as she and Graice went behind it. When they returned, Ignacio was pouring some sort of ground grain into bowls and adding water.

"We have what Holder calls cold mush for breakfast," Ignacio said as he handed them each a bowl.

Sybille looked at hers suspiciously and asked, "Have you tasted this yet, Ignacio?"

"Yes I have, and I can tell you that it's very easy to chew."

Graice grinned and spooned a bite into her mouth. "It doesn't taste bad, just bland," she said after a moment of deliberation. Sybille took a spoonful herself and shrugged. Seeing Holder approach, Sybille called out to him.

"May we at least light a fire and have hot mush, Holder?"

"Not a good idea," he replied. "We should get back on the road now. Other traffic will be along soon. Remember that while fewer people go north instead of east, this highway won't be empty. Local traffic is limited but traders and travelers regularly go to Anstrella and the towns along the Feluvial River. Those people will turn northwest when we reach the North Country Road. Which means we'll share the highway with others for a time, although not many stay on the High Road and go northeast at the fork."

"Do we have to leave so soon? We're all exhausted and should rest longer," Sybille complained.

"I was so tired last night that I fell asleep while we were riding and nearly fell off the wagon bench," Ignacio admitted. "Holder grabbed me just in time."

"You managed to stay asleep for quite a while before you lost your balance, friend," Holder told him. "I think you're adapting to the hardships of travel." When he said the word 'hardships,' Holder smiled.

"Well, you two men may be happy being dirty but Graice and I need to wash and change clothes at least," said Sybille.

"Did you bring a dress for every day of the trip?" Holder asked back. He had not opened their trunks to count what was inside but he did know the size of those bags.

"No, we had to make do with what we found on short notice."

"Perhaps you'll want to save some clean clothes for when we reach Lucidus. Wearing the same outfit for more than one day now might be useful to you later," Holder suggested. Sybille frowned but Graice covered her mouth with a hand and laughed.

"You must think we're pathetic," Graice said to Holder. "We can't even plan our own wardrobes as well as you have everything else."

"Not pathetic, just inexperienced," he assured them.

"Do the people who travel on caravans have a word for folks like us? Soft and weak, I mean, and constantly in need of someone to take care of them," asked Graice.

"Yes, there's a word, but I can't repeat it. I remember what you did to those three men in Matik for using foul language," he replied. (I just gave them a lesson, Graice thought to herself. Why would that be notable?) "Let's just call you novices instead. After we leave the highway in a couple of days, we'll find a good place to stop and you can take some time washing and changing clothes if you wish. We should start now so we can reach the side road I mentioned as soon as possible."

"Will we be in sight of the mountains then?" asked Graice.

Holder laughed. "No. Those are much farther away. We won't see them at all on the way to Lucidus."

"I'm sorry I'm such a novice but I've never been this way before," said Graice. "Sybille has taken the High Road to Abbelôn but I was still a child when she did her traveling." Sybille frowned a bit at the revelation although she wasn't quite sure why she did.

"I assume you've seen the mountains during your journeys, Holder," Sybille said and he nodded yes. "Have you ever crossed over to the other side?"

"Why would I? No traders go there, not even caravans."

"No, not in over a decade," acknowledged Sybille. "Well, we'll take your advice, Holder, and get into the wagon now."

"Good. More travelers are coming," he said as he surveyed the road in both directions.

The sun was low in the western sky when they reached the fork where the North Country Road diverged northwest toward Anstrella. Two wagons and a carriage in front of them took that route, as did two men on horseback behind them. When Holder turned their wagon to the northeast, none of the traffic followed even though the High Road was as broad and smoothly paved as the Eastway. As they rode onward, they saw only one other traveler, a solitary rider headed the other way.

They spent another night beside the highway and continued again in the morning, followed by a third day just as uneventful. Late on day four, Holder found what he was looking for and the wagon left the highway to go east on an unpaved dirt-and-gravel side road. As promised, Holder soon found a place to stop for the night, a flat spot with a small ridge to their left. Tall grass for the waybeasts to graze was abundant.

"Unless someone follows us – and they'll be easy to spot with no other traffic this way – only local people will see us now," Holder said to Graice and Sybille as they climbed down from the wagon. "I'll gather some wood and we'll have a fire tonight, but first I'm going to tether the waybeasts so they can reach this grass."

Once the fire was built, Holder pitched their tents while Ignacio made a stew of salted meat, rice, and dried vegetables. When the meal was ready, they ate in silence; everyone except Holder was stiff and sore after four days riding in a moving wagon. By the time the food was finished, the sun dipped below the horizon.

"There's still a little light left and the star-dazzle should be bright tonight," Holder said as he looked at the sky. "I'm going to climb this ridge and look around for a while." The ridge wasn't very high and the slope was climbable.

"May I come too?" Graice asked.

"Why not?" he replied with a shrug as he stood up. "Do you need help climbing?"

"Maybe," Graice admitted. "Would you take my hand and pull me along?"

"Of course."

Sybille frowned at the familiarity but stayed quiet. She may not agree with Graice's entire plan but she did know what the Sistére was up to. When the two reached the top, Holder released Graice's hand and they both sat down. Sybille saw their silhouettes against the sky but could not hear what they said.

"Are you comfortable?" Holder asked.

"Yes. The grass is soft," Graice replied as she gazed around. "I've never been any place like this. No people or buildings are in sight."

"Empty places still exist in the world. You'll see more on this route," Holder said. They sat facing north with their backs to the wagon below and Graice's eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light. The land spread out in front of them in small folds and gently rolling terrain. Although Graice could make out few details in the darkness, one thing was certain. No campfires, lanterns, or other lights besides their own were visible.

"Madrére Sybille says more people used to live along the High Road," Graice told him. "She traveled to Abbelôn several times on diplomatic missions but that was a long time ago, years before the fall."

"I don't remember that far back. But I do recall people talking about the fall after I woke up in Catai." He turned toward her and Graice briefly considered telling him then that she might be able to help him recover memories, but she had not finished her preparation yet. He would need to trust her before he agreed to let her try.

"We'll probably go someplace else after we leave Lucidus, Holder. Maybe it'll be north to the mountains."

"You haven't told me why we're going to Lucidus yet," he said as he turned back to scanning the scenery.

"What? Oh! How could I have forgotten?"

"It should be safe to tell me now. I can't reveal your secret with no one around."

"Oh Holder, that's not why we haven't said anything yet! We know you'll keep our secrets. It's just that Sybille and I have been so busy." Momentarily flustered, a very unusual occurrence, Graice paused for a breath and thought: why should he trust me if he thinks I don't trust him? "We're going to see Euclind Eudoxio. He's the sage who is the Mayórę of Lucidus. Sybille wants to talk to him about the Zafiri and their minions and get his advice."

"I've seen plenty of Sarkonians and some Yuzoi on my travels so I know who you mean," Holder responded. "Not very pleasant people."

"You're a master of understatement. Holder, it may seem that I haven't told you much, but now you know more about what we're doing than anyone except a small group of Madréres. We told the Patroness of Matik less than this when we were begging her for money. Sybille and I realized you were trustworthy that first day we talked to you about this trip," Graice assured him. "The reason we've said nothing until now is forgetfulness and nothing else. We do trust you and I hope you can do the same with me."

He looked at her again and although the darkness hid the features of his face, his Aura flared around it. With anyone else she would have known exactly what he was thinking but with Holder she could only read two things. The word trust triggered strong emotions in him and he had a reason for facing north when he looked around, even though he didn't know what the reason was. Seeking to establish a bond with him, Graice brought up the story she meant to tell.

"I have something in common with you. I don't know where I was born either. My adoptive parents live on Kêltikæ but I was a foundling and never knew my blood parents. Because I was a newborn when I was found, I don't remember anything firsthand about how it happened but I've heard the story often enough from my brothers. May I tell it to you?"

"Yes."

***

Curren and Derron, the ten and eight year old Dallis brothers, often came to the beach after a storm, and the previous night's had been a major tempest. Storms were common on the far shore of Kêltikæ, the island which was the last land of the Eastern Side before the wide expanse of the Sea – or the first ground encountered if someone should ever sail from the West.

Ordinary gales often roiled the deeper water offshore and washed up seashells and other interesting bits of marine life which the boys could not otherwise have reached. Sometimes pieces of flotsam provided souvenirs. The boys' prizes included large corks with shreds of fishnets dangling and the paddle part of a broken oar, but their most treasured possession was a wooden statuette about the length of one of their forearms. Its paint had washed away but it clearly was the image of a girl. (Their Ma would have made them say young woman instead of girl, but Pa would have agreed with them.) Neither parent ever had an opportunity to express any opinion at all, however, because the boys had never mentioned their find and hid it in a secret place. Whatever clothing the girl/young woman had originally worn had been provided by the now missing paint and the smooth wood seemed, to boys their age anyway, like her skin.

As they crossed the last dune, they realized that this morning would be far from ordinary. Spread before them down a long stretch of beach was wreckage on a scale previously unimagined. Shattered pieces of masts, spars, and planks tumbled everywhere and most of them were entangled with ripped sails and rope.

"Shipwreck!" Curren shouted, "Let's go help!" and both boys sprinted forward. To the credit of their parents, the goodness of the brothers impelled them to think first of any survivors and not of the fascinating salvage which undoubtedly lay among the wreckage. Sadly, they found no living sailors, only three dead bodies, one of which still floated face down in the shallow water.

"If he floats away, no one will find his body to bury it properly," Curren said after staring for a long time. "That's bad. Everyone should be treated properly when they die."

"I know," agreed Derron as he gulped. Both brothers looked around in the hope that someone else would come and take care of this distressing situation, but they knew in their hearts that the body might drift away if they went for help.

"We have to pull him up on the beach," Curren said somberly.

"Yeah, we have to."

"If we grab his jacket we won't have to touch his skin." The garment Curren referred to was actually a red vest made of quilted material worn over a loose fitting black shirt. The pants were also black and came down only to the dead man's knees.

"Okay, let's do it," replied Derron. After a long moment of hesitation, they did what they had to.

"We should turn him over so his face isn't in the dirt," Derron said when they had the body out of the water.

"You're right. It isn't proper like this," agreed Curren but they balked at touching the dead man again. The jacket had felt distasteful and unnerving to them and they imagined it was coated by slime from the decomposing body. The last was an exaggeration in the boys' minds since the man was newly dead and no decay had begun yet, but it's unreasonable to expect clear thinking from youngsters in such disturbing circumstances. Fortunately, an obvious solution was at hand and they found a plank to use as a lever.

When they rolled the man over on his back, the boys groaned because they saw that their work was still not finished. The face was covered with sand and this was not a proper thing either. Unwilling to touch the skin with their hands, they found a piece of wet canvas and cleaned the face without making any bodily contact. The dead man had black hair, something rarely seen in Kêltikæ.

"Ma would never let us wear our hair that long," observed Curren.

"His eyes look funny all slanted like that and his skin color seems odd," said Derron.

"That's probably just because he's been in the water."

"Yeah, that must be it."

As the brothers stood and backed away, a great weight lifted from their shoulders. They had done their duty bravely and had accomplished a worthy good deed. Their consciences freed them for much more pleasurable thoughts and they looked around.

"Let's go there first," Curren said as he pointed to the largest single section of wreckage. They dashed to what once had been the stern of the ship and saw the writing on its side.

"What's that word mean?" asked Derron. Neither understood it, but the carved letters spelled Nínjìng. The shattered stern section tilted to one side but that was no obstacle to agile young legs. The boys scrambled aboard to find one section of deck still intact. Cautious to save their bare feet from nails and splinters, they began searching for treasure. Before they found any, Derron heard something.

"Did you hear that?" he asked his brother.

"Hear what?"

"A really soft sound."

"Probably a bird or something," Curren said.

"Didn't sound like a bird." Derron stood still and quiet and after a moment he said, "There it is again. Do you hear it?"

"Yeah. Sounded kind of like a kitten mewing."

"It came from there," Derron said as he pointed to a basket lashed to the base of a broken mast. The thoughts of kitten and basket made them rush to it but when they opened the lid, no cat was inside.

They found a tiny baby girl wrapped in a soiled blanket and wearing only a bright silvery necklace with an oval amulet engraved with arcane symbols –  The boys had three younger sisters and realized that this infant was in her first few days of life. It was a cool day so both boys stripped off their sweaters and stuffed them in the basket to cover the baby.

"She looks bad sick! We better get her home quick," cried Curren, and he and his brother climbed over the side and carefully handed the basket from one to another until it was safely on the sand. Each then grabbed the basket handle with one hand.

"Ma will know what to do!" said Derron as they began to run. They didn't stop until they had delivered the baby to the shelter and comfort of their home and mother.

***

"The entire Dallis family is pure Kêltikæn. Most of them even have freckles. I was nothing like them or anyone else they had ever seen and yet Ena and Niall, my Ma and Pa, took me into their home and treated me the same as their other children. I will always think of them as my parents," she said when the story was finished. "They named me Graice for the meaning of that word in Kêltikæn and Nínjìng because that was carved on the ship wreckage. I learned to read when I was three using books my parents owned and I started at the local school soon after. When I was six, a traveling Sistére discovered me. I spent a lot of time in Sistérian schools after that but I go back to Kêltikæ to visit as often as I can."

"Your family must be good people," said Holder.

"Yes. They went to a lot of trouble to find out who I was but never succeeded. Later the Sistéria also searched for information about me without success. Holder, have you ever seen any people from Žhìn?"

"Once in Niazport."

"The first Žhìnian ships found the way to East of the Sea when I was twelve and for the first time people on this side of the world learned what people from Žhìn looked like. Nobody had recognized my appearance before then. Even after that, however, I remained a mystery. None of the Žhìnians who came knew about a lost baby or a ship named Nínjìng and could not explain how someone like me existed," Graice explained. "Had you guessed that I may have come from Žhìn?"

"Yes. I saw a woman who looked like you getting off one of those embassy ships at the Niazport docks. I don't mean exactly like you. She had short hair and was older than you are."

"When was this?" Graice asked.

"Eight years ago. She was one of the Žhìnian ambassadors to the Concordia," Holder answered. Then he sighed and added, "I wish I could tell you where I was born."

"I hope you can some day," Graice replied. Then she told him, "Ever since I was a child, every member of the Sistéria has told me constantly that I'm special. Sometimes I get annoyed about that, but it's true that I have more talent than other Sistéres."

"Talent at what?"

"Do you remember those three men in Matik? Did they seem frightened of me?"

"Yes."

"Do you know why?"

"No."

"I have an effect on people. All Sistéres do to some extent, especially those who wear red sashes with our robes. Some people think it's a trick and others say that we're witches, but neither is true. It's difficult to explain how or even what I do, but I'm able to adjust the emotions of others. And I don't just frighten people with my effect; I can make folks feel happy if I want to or amplify their consciences until they feel guilty about their wrongdoings. I also can read facial expressions and other attributes," she said. There was no point in explaining an Aura to him now. "That makes me very good at detecting whether or not someone is telling the truth and at guessing their thoughts."

"Can Sybille do the same things?" Holder asked.

"Yes, but not as well as I can. Holder, I need to say something about you now. The first time I met you I realized I had no effect on you at all. I can't change your mood, not even to cheer you up, and I can't suggest that you do something you don't want to do."

"You know this because you tried and it didn't work." Holder was not asking a question.

"You noticed? I thought you knew nothing about Sistéres."

"I didn't but I pay attention."

"I see. Well, I also have almost no success at all when I try to read your expressions."

"Almost?"

"Occasionally I've picked up very small things, undoubtedly because you don't mind me seeing them," she explained. "Let me give you an example, Holder. Do you know why you're sitting facing the north?"

"Actually this is north-northeast," he said correcting her orientation slightly. In the starlight, she could see his arm as he pointed straight in front of himself. "It's just a direction. The wagon and campfire are behind us and I've already seen those."

"The Pàçian Mountains are that way, aren't they?"

"Yes, and so is Amity Pass where the High Road goes through them."

"I'm sure it wasn't just random chance that you decided to climb up here, Holder. There's a reason why you watch in that direction."

"What is it?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I can detect the existence of the motivation, but I can't see anything about the reason itself. Do you know what it is?"

"No."

"Then it must be something lost in your memory," Graice said. "The fact that my talent doesn't have an effect on you is significant, Holder. Sybille says she met a few people on her travels years ago who seemed immune to her ability, but you're the only one I've been unable to influence. You're a very special person even if we don't know who you are."

"Maybe everyone where I come from is special."

"Whether that's true or not, it's important to discovery your identity," said Graice and she paused a moment to let that sink in. "I may be able to help you remember."

His head snapped toward her. "How?"

"I have a technique which has helped other people. Your case is unique, of course, but I think there's a chance that I can aid you too. The process starts by inducing you into a state much like a dream."

"You just said your talent doesn't work on me."

"I can't do anything against your will, Holder. I can help only if you cooperate and open yourself to let me into your mind," Graice said. "You would need to trust me and believe that I want to help you."

"I do."

She almost gasped at the suddenness of his reply. "How can you be sure so soon?"

"Do you think you're the only one who can detect something about a person's character at first sight?"

This time she couldn't suppress her gasp. Was he reading her? Could any man be capable of such a thing, especially one who had lost his memory? Before Graice could respond, Holder asked a question.

"How long will this take?"

"I don't know exactly. More than one attempt, certainly, and there's no guarantee it will work."

"If there's any chance at all, I want to try this," Holder insisted. "These dreams, as you call them, how long do they last?"

"Just a few minutes each, but first you'll need to drink an elixir that will put you in a receptive frame of mind and which will make you sleep for an hour."

"Are you sure just an hour?"

"Yes, no longer than that. Do you mean you're ready to start now? You can take some time to think about this."

"I don't need time. I'm ready but I need to wake up afterwards to stand guard tonight."

"You need regular sleep too. You haven't closed your eyes much since we left Matik," she told him. "Ignacio and I can take turns staying awake."

"But . . ."

"We don't need to be expert guards, Holder. We'll wake you up if anything happens. If you want to do this, don't argue with me now." Graice's tone of voice would have stopped arguments anywhere East of the Sea except with Holder, but he agreed with her for reasons of his own.

"Can we start now?"

"Will you help me climb down the slope?"

"Yes."

When they returned to the campsite, Graice asked Holder to wait for her in his tent and for Ignacio to bring her a specific bag from the wagon. Then she told Sybille what had happened.

"I never suspected that he would agree so soon," said Sybille.

"Neither did I but he's ready. For all of his calm demeanor, he's eager – or perhaps I should say desperate – to do anything that might help him remember his past life."

"You haven't had much time to prepare, Graice. Are you ready?"

"Of course I am."

"You know that I still don't approve of this."

"And you know no one can stop me from trying," Graice said. "Not even Madrére Sybille Sabidora herself."

Sybille glared back and said, "And no one else can speak to me as you do."

"You've always told me that I'm exceptional, Madrére. More than anything else, I'm a person of your own creation." Graice knew that Sybille wanted to say more about the impulsiveness of young people and the value of experience, but Ignacio returned at that moment with the leather bag the Sistére had requested. Graice took the bag but said to Ignacio, "Please give us some privacy. Madrére Sybille and I haven't finished our conversation."

"Of course," Ignacio replied and he moved to a discreet distance away from them. Graice turned back to Sybille.

"I realized before we left Avont House that you were hiding something from me about this trip, Madrére. I let you keep your secret out of respect and love for you, but I can see it's about me. I'm the reason for this journey. There is no point in concealing it from me any longer."

"Let me explain . . ." Sybille tried to say but Graice cut her short.

"You've foreseen something. Admit it. I deserve to know what your vision told you."

"Calling it a vision is exaggerating," said the wisest and strongest Madrére in the Sistéria to the young woman whose talent exceeded any ever known. "All I know is that I have never felt anything as compellingly as this in all my life. You must reach our destination and you will accomplish something truly amazing."

"Obviously Lucidus is not our final destination."

"Correct; it's only a stepping stone."

"Perhaps helping Holder to remember his past is part of this amazing thing you expect from me, Madrére."

"I don't know, Graice. Maybe it is but that can't be all. The truth is I never saw or felt Holder in any of my foresight. He was a surprise to me when you brought him to the Way-House in Matik. Since my vision occurred before then, he cannot be the entire answer. There is something else to be done, something only you can achieve."

"Well, I'm going to help him anyway, starting now." With that, Graice opened the bag and took out a flask and a small metal cup as she turned towards Holder's tent.

"I should be in the tent with you," Sybille said. "You'll be unconscious along with him and you may need help recovering if something goes wrong."

For a brief instant Graice's Aura flared in challenge but she immediately calmed herself. "Forgive me, Mother. You're right but please wait until Holder is asleep before entering." Sybille nodded agreement and Graice walked to the tent, lifted the flap, and went inside.

Holder sat on the buffoe skin which covered the ground inside the tent and Graice took a seat beside him. "Drink this," she said as she poured a thimble-full of clear liquid from the flask into the cup. "If you have any questions first . . ."

Before she could finish her sentence, Holder took the cup and threw the elixir down his throat. It had a sharp taste, half sweet and half bitter. He asked, "What next?"

"Lie down on your back with your arms at your sides," she told him. When he did, she lay down beside him. "Is this position all right with you, Holder?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" he replied as he yawned.

"I do need to touch you. Would you mind if I placed my hand on top of yours?"

"Um . . . no. Go ahead . . ." he mumbled. Then his eyes closed.

"Are you still awake?" Graice asked softly a moment later. When he didn't reply, she placed her small hand on his large one and then closed her own eyes.

***

He walked beside a shoulder-high wall of white stone, not quite brushing it with his right elbow. By turning slightly he could have easily seen over the wall or touched the beautiful bas-relief sculpture that lined its inner surface, but he kept his eyes straight ahead and his hands by his sides. The walkway where he paced was up high, probably on the top of a tall building or wall. Glimpses of green countryside spread out below on his right side and on his left was a lower wall with blurry visions of other stonework beyond it. Above, delicate clouds fluffed the bright blue sky. All of these, however, were merely hints of unimportant background in his peripheral vision. Ahead the wall turned a corner, and there sat the object of his attention.

A young woman.

She sat on a bench built as part of the wall itself and so artfully carved that it blended perfectly into the sculptural pattern. Taller than most women, she could rest her elbow on the top of the wall as she looked outward at some distant view. She had twisted her body at the waist so that while he could see her legs and feet, her face and upper body were turned away from him. As he came closer, his eyes saw her flowing dress of soft azure-colored linen. Its skirt was hemmed to cover her knees and his eyes paid special attention to those parts of her legs which were in view. A gentle breeze ruffled her long golden hair. He came to a stop behind her but she kept her face looking outward. Teasing him, he knew.

"You know it's me back here," he said.

"It had better be," she replied as she leaned forward – away from him – and looked down at something closer to the wall. The action pulled up the hem of her skirt a bit and showed him more of her long legs.

"I would ask you to turn around but I like this view," he told her.

With a soft laugh, she sat up straight and began turning. As she did, her hand brushed back the strands of hair which had fallen over her face, and . . . .
CHAPTER 11

Euclind Eudoxio

Lucidus was a nice place with sensible people. In other words, it did not resemble Matik at all. Being an Urb-Ordinâre of moderate magnitude, Lucidus was only a fraction the size of the Great City. No part of Lucidus compared in decadent grandeur to Patron's Hill, but then nothing resembled the deprivation and depravity of Matik's south-side slums either. The wealthiest Lucidians were comfortable rather than affluent, and its poorest residents had homes and enough to eat and, not coincidentally, refused to squander their money on vices. Even the sad folk who had migrated south over the last decade had found acceptance and were as content as anyone could be after their loss.

Being practical folk, Lucidians had chosen their Mayóręs in an exceptional manner for as long as anyone could remember. No monarchy, aristocracy, or plutocracy ruled here. Citizens simply hired the best person for the job, and any candidate who failed to perform could be fired at any time by vote of the populace. No one, however, wished to change leaders. Lucidians were still very happy with the leader they had hired twenty-seven years earlier.

Euclind Eudoxio was that person. He arrived in Lucidus when he was thirty-two and his origins were shrouded in mystery. Although obviously a serious scholar, he said virtually nothing about where he had received his education. His dark skin made it clear that he came from far away, but Lucidians were more open minded than most and he was the most intelligent person to come to Lucidus in a long, long time. People soon relied on him as an advisor, counselor, tutor, and general source of knowledge about any subject. Before long, every Lucidian referred to him as their Wise One. When he was forty, the citizens hired him as their leader and they never had any reason to regret their choice.

On one particular day, Euclind sat in his office casually reading an old book. A friend, another scholar of equal repute, had given the book as a present some years earlier during good times. It was a novelty, a book about fables and folklore rather than history, which Euclind enjoyed as a hobby rather than a serious subject. The pages contained the purported sayings of a fortune teller known only as the Mystica of the Northland who had lived in the always vague time 'long, long ago.' Euclind knew a great deal about the history of the world and had no illusions about the veracity of tales like 'The Lost Man Meets the Foundling Child,' 'The Boy Who Must Be and the Girl of Legend,' or 'How the Young Led the Way Home,' but they did have entertainment value. Suddenly, he noticed something streaking past the glass panes of his window. (Some people believed he had invented the art of glass-making, but others thought possibly he had just brought the idea from elsewhere.)

"Radbert, are you there?" he called out and a man appeared in the open doorway.

"Yes I'm here, sir," said the ordinary looking man who served as a combination scribe and butler. He always left the office door open when his employer was working so he could hear when Euclind asked for something.

"One of my birds just returned. Would you retrieve its message please?"

"Of course," replied Radbert as he left.

"Don't forget to feed the bird," Euclind said after the man was gone, not that Radbert needed reminding. The butler's assistants paid young boys to catch mice for him, and he fed newly returned messenger birds one, two, or three mice each depending on the length of their journeys. This one earned two mice as a reward for its trip. The Mayórę of Lucidus used no ordinary stone-doves for his deliveries, only kestrels. These small swift falconids could fly faster than any of the competition, and occasionally ate them as well. Euclind also kept a dozen peregrinæ, the kestrels' larger cousins, which had been trained to attack the ubiquitous blackbirds which flew back and forth across Ostenland from Hibbria to Sarkonia and beyond. The remarkable peregrinæ used their beaks to sever the legs from their prey and then flew back to Lucidus with whatever message capsules the blackbirds had carried.

"This message is from Anglio," Radbert said when he returned after a few moments.

"I'll read it now," Euclind said as he accepted the capsule and broke its seal.

"Would you like some tea, sir?" asked Radbert as he left but Euclind was too lost in his reading to answer. Radbert stepped out of the room and sent an assistant to the kitchen for the teapot anyway.

Euclind had an avuncular fondness for Hadwin, the young Mayórę of Anglio, and receiving more disturbing news from the man was always unsettling. Being located at the terminus of the Eastway Road, Anglio was the last and most exposed city in the Concordia. South across the Great River lay Hibbria, which had been occupied a generation earlier by an onslaught from the terror-land of Zigor. Most Hibbrians had been good people but the fear of living under the oppression of the Zafiri would affect anyone. Farther north, the rough men of Sarkonia had never been trustworthy and now most of them had been bought and served as mercenaries under Yuzoi officers. The army which had secretly assembled in Terrai Souvage to invade Pàçia twelve years earlier had marched through Sarkonia on its foul way. The fall of Abbelôn and death of Adálar, the last High Protector, had been a tragedy felt everywhere but especially in isolated Anglio, which needed peace more than any other city.

Mayórę Hadwin had reported earlier that parts of Ostenland north of his city were being infiltrated by tribesmen from the east. Anglion soldiers stayed on alert and the Mayórę now advised that his men had killed several trespassers. The description given in the message did not sound like either Yuzoi or Sarkonians, which meant that some new tribe had arrived from Terrai Souvage. Euclind knew more than anyone about the Yuzoi and their Zafiri masters, and the arrival of a previously unknown group was worrisome.

This development requires more investigation, Euclind thought to himself, but his first action was to relay the news to those who might help – or perhaps would need help later. He quickly wrote notes to the Mayóręs of Torae and Iteneris and to a nephew of Patron Edric in Matik. The latter owed Euclind favors and had the ear of his uncle, for what it was worth. Calling out to Radbert, Euclind looked up and saw the man already in the room holding a tray with tea and sweetbread.

"Send these three messages by bird and then dispatch riders to notify the towns along the Fallal to be watchful," he told Radbert. "I fear the Gray Ones are making some new move."

"Right away."

Euclind sat and contemplated this latest intelligence. It could only mean that the Zafiri had recruited new reinforcements for their Yuzoi fighters and Sarkonian mercenaries. Nothing good could come from that.

The next day, Radbert again entered the Mayórę's office. "Another kestrel has arrived, sir," Radbert said as he handed a message to Euclind. "This one's from Iteneris."

"Thank you," the Wise One said as he opened the paper.

"Good news or bad, sir?" Radbert asked but Euclind's answer was not straightforward.

"A kiropteran friend of mine flew all the way from Hinterland to Iteneris specifically to send me this information," he said, but then he stopped talking and kept reading. Knowing his employer's ways, Radbert left the room.

The letter was disorganized and confused. His friend had seen nothing himself and was only forwarding second-hand accounts of wild and strange developments along the eastern border of Hinterland. Several lupuns who had gone hunting in Logou, the sparsely inhabited territory between Hinterland and Hibbria, had not returned and a kiropteran who had flown to look for them was also missing. Most surprising of all was the arrival of two unidentified men who fled from Logou seeking shelter. They were so terrified that they could barely speak. They had seen monsters, they told residents of Hinterland, monsters moving north. A joint posse of lupuns and kiropterans had gone to investigate and found a wide trail with strange tracks, broken trees, and crushed vegetation. Something big and destructive had passed that way.

Euclind's friend described the 'monsters' in as much detail as the frightened men could give, and he reported that the members of the posse were very nervous and confused when they returned. Since kiropterans were sensible persons and lupuns rarely worried about anything, this was troubling news. Euclind stood and looked at a hand-drawn map on the wall. If these so-called monsters were traveling through Logou near the border of Hinterland, where had they started? Did they leave Zigor through Hibbria and then turn west? That was a very roundabout way and did not seem likely. The alternative was that they had crossed the desert straight from Zigor to southern Logou and that thought was troubling.

"Radbert!" called out Euclind. "Get several kestrels ready. I need to send more messages."
CHAPTER 12

Gildea

In the palace on Patron's Hill, Patron Edric sat in a luxuriously cushioned chair in an elegantly-appointed room, his private contemplation room as he called it. He needed a quiet sanctuary away from the noise and stress of his daily duties, he said, where he could sit in peace and, um, well, think about things. At this moment he thought about the elaborate metal model he held in his hands. A courtier had given it to him, calling it a device demonstrating important mechanical and scientific principles which was obtained from special traders up north someplace. To an untrained eye, it might have seemed to be a clever toy suitable for a bright ten year old. When the door opened, Edric looked up to scold whoever dared to interrupt his privacy but he saw that it was the one person he could never escape.

"Oh, it's you," he said glumly to his wife. No guard or attendant would ever attempt to keep Gildea from intruding on him for the obvious reason that annoying the Patron was much less dangerous than incurring the wrath of the Patroness.

"Aren't you finished playing yet, husband? There's work to do," Gildea snapped. Sometimes Edric became indignant when she said such things to him, but this time he just sighed. The Patroness continued, "Financial matters need to be discussed. The monthly report on tax revenues is ready and there are expenditures we need to make."

"Can't you and the Ministers take care of this?" he pleaded with his eyes downcast. "Money matters are so mumdained."

It took her a moment to decipher what he meant. "You mean mundane. Yes, I will deal with everything. I just wanted to inform you. You get huffy sometimes if you feel left out."

"I do not," he insisted huffily. He reached to place his model on the side table and knocked off a piece of paper as he did.

"I recognize that paper. That's another message from Euclind Eudoxio, isn't it?"

"That? Oh, yes. First it was wild tribesmen menacing Anglio and now it's monsters in the wasteland. The man's got something loose inside his head."

"You must always give me these messages as soon as they arrive, Edric. Regardless of his weaknesses, the man is brilliant. He has value even if he's too soft," Gildea said. "He's not as bad as that odd little Sistére who came begging, but all that peaceful philosophy won't last a minute when the storm breaks. Look what being kind did for Adálar. He's dead and all his family with him."

"The last High Protector gone," Edric sighed. "Things were a lot nicer when we had one in Pàçia."

"Everything comes to an end, husband, no matter how long it lasted. Besides, all those homilies were just superstition for the masses. The rightful rulers of our great Matik have never needed advice from the likes of Adálar and his predecessors."

"All I said was that it was nicer then," Edric protested feebly. "Some people liked having things that way."

"That time is gone, I say, and I don't miss it," she snapped at him in irritation. "Now is the time for strength. Speaking of which, I've authorized more funding for the foundry in Adne. My man Hefaistu is nearly finished with his project."

"Hefais . . . who?"

"The weapons-maker; don't you remember? He copied that captured Yuzoi weapon and got an idea for making bigger and more powerful weapons. Soon we'll be too strong for anyone to resist, even the vile Zafiri," she said out loud but mentally she added, 'Too much for Riviarre and Niazport also.' With that thought, Gildea turned and left the room. The Patron picked up his model and a smile returned to his face.

CHAPTER 13

Rafe and Belo § 2

"So why's it a bad word?" Rafe asked as he walked.

"It just is. Very rude," answered Belo from under the big guy's jacket.

"You're a grumpy one today. Ya want me to shut up?"

"I'm not grumpy. And you don't have to stop talking. Tere is notting else to do while I'm riding on your back. It's just tat conversations witt you go off in all sorts of strange directions."

"Heh, heh. Good thing I don't get mad when ya call me strange," said Rafe. "And don't change da subject. You guys really do suck."

"Sometimes."

"Admit it. You really do."

"Rafe, you've seen me do it."

"So you admit it? Say it, say it!"

"All right, I admit we suck," sighed Belo.

"Hah!" Rafe exclaimed, followed by, "Heh, heh, heh." Then he paused, trying to hold in the rest of the joke as long as possible.

"Go ahead and finish," Belo said.

"Not me. I'm amazin' nice."

"You're going to explode if you don't let it out," Belo told him. It was true. The big guy's ribs were shaking from the suppressed laughter. It wasn't long before the words burst out.

"So if you guys do suck, why is it so bad to call you suckers? Hah! Explain that. Why, why, why?" Rafe's heh-heh-hehs continued for some time so Belo had to wait before he could respond.

"I really don't know why. Technically, you're right. It doesn't make sense but we still get offended if someone says tat word."

"So I shouldn't call ya sucker anymore?"

"You've never called me tat before."

"But I got to stop sayin' sucker now?"

"How long are you going beat tis to deatt?"

"Interestin' idea. Beatin' to deaff, I mean," replied Rafe. "But do I have to say kirropetarr . . . um, instead of . . ."

"Please don't repeat it again."

"Not say kirrepotoram? I thought it was a nice word."

"It is. Calling us kiropterans is polite. You know which word I meant," said Belo. Rafe muttered a generic low growl and his friend knew what the big guy meant also. "You don't have to say kiropteran if you don't want to. I'm of the Baktatta clan. You could call me a Baktattan instead."

"Humpf."

"Or you could just keep calling me Belo like you always have. It's my name after all."

"I'll say korrropotern if I want to. Bakkatahter too."

"Of course you will."

"Or maybe bat-brain."

"Tat's a complement, actually."

"Humpf. Just not fair, dat's all."

"What's not fair?"

"Lupun is so runhh easy for you guys to say."

"You're right. It really isn't fair," Belo replied. "But it sounds like you want me to apologize and I don't see why any of tese words are my fault."

"Don't have to say you're sorry. Just admit it ain't fair."

"I already did."

"Ummf."

"Do you understand why I said conversations witt you can get strange?" asked Belo.

"Heh, heh, heh. I like bein' strange."

That tickled Belo too but his laughter came out more like eek-eek-eek than heh-heh. He asked, "Rafe, are you in a good enough mood for me to ask te same question in reverse?"

"What question?"

"About te fact tat lupuns really do rip."

"I get it. You think I'll rip your head off if ya call me that?"

"No, I don't tink tat but I still don't want to be rude."

"Hah-hah-hah," laughed Rafe. "Don't matter to me what ya say. I know more bad words than anybody. I just don't say them because I'm so nice."

"So you wouldn't mind if I called you a ripper?"

"Hmmm. Better not. Some other lupun might hear. A lot of us ain't even regular nice, let alone amazin' nice."

"Good point." Deciding that he could risk one brief exposure to the sun, Belo stuck his head out from under the jacket and peeked around. Rafe was taking them through a small forest. Belo ducked back under cover and asked, "Are we going to stop and sleep soon? It's almost high noon."

"Soon as I find a place. Ya liked yesterday's spot, didn't ya?"

"Yes. It was very well shaded."

"I take good care of ya."

"Yes, indeed. You're truly amazing."

"Like I always say."

"Tonight I'm going to try to fly more tan I did last night so you won't have to carry me as much," Belo said.

"I can keep goin' all day. You're pretty light to carry," Rafe assured him. "But it'd be good for ya, doin' your own thing and all."

"Yes it will. Te skin has grown back over te hole in my wing, but I need to keep stretching te tendon tat got nicked by te arrow. Te more I exercise my wings, te better."

"Good for ya," Rafe said encouragingly. Then he paused a moment before saying more. "Belo, I got one more question."

"What?"

"Then I'll quit buggin' ya about this."

"All right. Ask your question."

"It's about da word sangwen . . . sangweena . . ."

"I tink you mean sanguinan."

"Yeah, that. Try pernouncin' a word like that wiff a mouff like mine and see how ya do. Well what kind of name is that anyway, bad or good?"

"It's not supposed to be an insult but we really don't appreciate it very much," Belo replied. "It's what men call us."

"Yeah, I know," Rafe sympathized. "But what can ya do? Dose guys just won't shut up."

"No, not at all."

"Hey. Maybe we should tell them what names we call men. Wouldn't that be funny?"

"It would but perhaps it's not a good idea. Tere are so many men around lately."

"Yeah, and not all of them are nice. Da rude ones sure are a pain in da ass." As soon as Rafe said the words, they both thought of the punch line simultaneously.

"Just like getting bitten by a cat!" they shouted in unison. Delighted with their own hilarity, they laughed until they found a place to sleep.
CHAPTER 14

Caelia § 2

This day Caelia led a class of nines. Kids that age would never hold onto a rope, of course, and these had been in school long enough to be a little full of themselves. Especially the boys, she thought, but at least the boy nines weren't as big of a pain as those her own age. She had brought the group to one of the water wheels on the north wall of the Chamber where they met the man and woman who would speak to them. The energist and hydrologist had both smiled warmly at Caelia (she was used to it; all adults responded that way) before taking over the lesson. Caelia had heard this lecture many times and would have paid it little mind except for the fact that Manfrit, a boy of fourteen, was watching her from a distance. Her bright hair made her easy to find in a crowd but she had tired of boys staring at her. Expressing her irritation at Manfrit's attention, she refused to glance in his direction and pretended to be interested in what was being said.

"The water comes from a stream on the mountain above and is led here through a tunnel," the hydrologist was saying as she pointed upward. "When it pours out from the opening in the ceiling, it spins the wheel, as you can see, before flowing to the cisterns under the floor."

"And the belt from the wheel turns the armature in the generator, as you can also see," added the energist as he looked up to the structures he described. "That creates the energy which we channel through the copper strips to the glow-globes. You may think the glow-globes are Anziên and therefore are something we can't make anymore, but that's not true. When we need a new one, we make it ourselves. Globes were invented right here in the Chamber, you see, by energists and other tekniks shortly after they came to Annâles-Scientia for the first time. They were people just like us, our ancestors in fact. History says that anginears had little involvement and we tekniks figured it out on our own. My own great-grandfather, in fact, was instrumental in improving . . ."

Caelia agreed that tekniks deserved more credit than they often received, but a recitation of one family's story would be boring to a class of nines. She spoke up to change the direction of the conversation.

"Weren't the first plans for globes drawn up by a Dozent who had deciphered some old post-Anziên records?" she asked slyly.

"Well, um, that may have happened too," said the energist. "I'm sure everyone did their part back then. Just like today."

Appreciating Caelia's tactic, one of the girl nines turned towards her so they could share conspiratorial smiles. When Caelia finally glanced back in Manfrit's direction, she didn't see him watching her any more. Frowning, she looked around until she found him working with his father at a lathe. "Humpf," she snorted and she turned her attention back to the lesson.

Because her father was Dozent, Caelia's family lived in the best quarters in all of Annâles-Scientia. Due to the crowding – no one had ever expected so many people to move into the place, after all – space was limited and the rooms of the Chancelar~Emerick family were no larger or nicer than any others. They did have one extra room where her parents often met with people who came for advice or debate, but that was a working room and not living space. The real attraction of their home came from its location. Their rooms were on First Hall, the closest of any living quarters to the Chamber where Caelia's parents and so many others worked.

Caelia had been very young at the time of the tragedy which brought so many to Annâles-Scientia and therefore she had no real recollections of living anywhere else. She had, however, listened to all the stories about what had happened over a decade earlier. For example, she knew that her grandfather Atenodoro, the previous Dozent, had disappeared around that time. Her parents spoke of him often, telling Caelia how he called her a once-in-a-millennium baby, but she couldn't recall what he looked like. Similar to her father only older, she assumed. Whenever she tried to visualize an image of her first home, the picture in her head was just a construct of imagination taken from things she had been told. Like anyone else her age or younger, Caelia was a child of Annâles-Scientia. All that she remembered had happened there, and every person she knew lived there.

When Caelia arrived home that day, she heard voices coming from the meeting room and eavesdropped at the door long enough to find out they were talking about organizing the next trade expedition. Oddly, one voice that she didn't hear was that of her mother, Binah, so Caelia went looking for her. She found Binah pouring over yet another stack of paper – not Anziên stuff or antiquarian records, but treatises written in the last two centuries.

"Why aren't you in the conference?" Caelia asked.

"I was but I got bored," her mother replied. "Whenever we start planning an outing, everyone has to recite all their worries again before any work gets started. You know, 'what if we're seen' and all that. People said the same things last time and every other time before, but some folks are compulsive about repetition. I'm not complaining, though, just saying that I got tired of listening. The process gets their fears out in the open which helps control people's anxiety." Binah was regarded as the best counselor in Annâles-Scientia and knew very much about human nature.

"What's the point in worrying about the danger? If someone doesn't go out to trade for food, we'll all starve," said Caelia, going straight to the heart of the matter. "We can't grow enough in the gardens and if we plow large fields farther downhill someone would notice."

"Which would reveal that a lot of people live around here."

"And the Yuzoi would send some Sarkonians to look for us," Caelia finished. "You don't have to explain this to me, Mom. I'm not one of your committee members. We have to send out trade expeditions no matter how dangerous it is, so all you adults should stop whining and start moving."

"You don't have to explain that part to me either, Caelia."

"Excuse me, Mom. For an adult, you're pretty smart. So is Dad about half the time," admitted Caelia. "But you still haven't figured out the best way to pick who goes outside on these trips."

"I'm sure you have an idea."

"Naturally. Instead of sending big men and strong women just because they can carry heavier loads down the mountain, we should choose families."

Binah recognized that her daughter was up to something but she said, "Explain what you mean," anyway.

"Send groups that look like families to go trading. You know, men, women, and kids." Caelia spoke fast now so her mother couldn't interrupt with the obvious objections. "I don't mean little children. Kids my age would be better. Don't say we can't carry as much as adults. We're tougher than you think and having kids along would help disguise the mission. Think about it. If you saw families carrying bags and pushing carts near the mountain, you'd think 'they're looking for a new home,' but if you saw the bunch we always send, you'd think 'they're up to something' and get suspicious."

"You actually have a good point, dear, except for the obvious part about you wanting to talk us into letting you go along," replied Binah, but then she thought a moment and added, "Everyone is frightened that the Zafiri's servants will catch our people before they get far enough away from the caverns, but that's only a part of the danger. Most of those who see our trade missions are regular people and some may get desperate enough to sell the information. You're ruse might fool those."

"Of course it will. Who could be suspicious if they saw me along?" Caelia tilted her head, opened her eyes wide, and showed pure innocence and virtue in her face.

"I would."

"But you're my mother. You already know me."

"I have one more point," said Binah. "Carrying trade goods downhill is difficult enough. They're heavy but small. However, on the return trip the wagons will be full of grain, vegetables, and so forth. That's a lot bulkier and children will be less help then."

"After we unload the food where we hide the wagons you can send some big strong men down to take over," Caelia said. "We might as well get some use out of them." Mother and daughter both grinned at the last comment, but Binah became serious.

"What made you think of this, Caelia?"

"I'm smart."

"Yes dear, everyone knows that, but something must have given you the idea for this plan of yours."

Caelia looked in her mother's eyes for a long moment before responding. "When you see things that other people can't, your premonitions I mean, do they come to you in dreams?"

"No, just when I'm awake and they happen suddenly," Binah said. "I don't actually see much, usually just one quick glimpse, but I instantly know what the vision means. Forgive me for being so vague but I can't explain it any better than that."

"I understand, Mom. Three days ago I had a premonition myself and it happened exactly like that. I saw myself outside in bright sunshine and the land around me was nothing at all similar to the area around our gate. The wind was in my face because I was moving swiftly but I can't explain how I was going so fast. I pulled a string I had used as a ribbon out of my hair and spread my arms wide. I was completely happy and I knew I was doing something good, something very important."

Binah paused and took a deep breath. No one would be surprised that the girl had foreseen something – Caelia was her mother's daughter, after all – and Binah had no doubt about the veracity of what she had just heard. She did, however, have a question. "Did you see anyone else outside with you in the vision?"

"No."

"Caelia, in your vision you were safe but you couldn't see if everyone else was. Your plan to take kids along on the trading expedition is obviously all your idea and not part of the premonition. Would you risk putting other kids in danger just because . . . no, I shouldn't say that. I already know you wouldn't."

"It's not a trick just to get me outside, if that's what you mean."

"That isn't what I think. You really believe the entire plan is a good idea, don't you?"

"Yes. It's logical and beneficial, and it would help to keep us all safer."

"You may be right but you'll have to convince everyone using only logic and practical arguments," Binah said. "Do not tell anyone about your premonition. Do you understand?"

"Of course I do. People need to decide what's best for their children based on the facts and not just because I told them I had foreseen something."

"Good. You do understand. It would be different if your vision had shown that all the children would be safe too, but it didn't. People have such confidence in you, Caelia, that they would be unfairly influenced if they knew you had a premonition," said Binah.

"I know. The plan really is a good idea on its own. Think about it, Mom."

"I will." Binah did exactly that although her thoughts were not so much about the advisability of using children as traders. Instead, her mind dwelt on the fact that her daughter was no longer a little girl and what that meant. After just over a minute she stood up and said, "It's time to go back to the meeting. Come with me please, dear."

Caelia's proposal met with immediate rejection. Her father shook his head and said "No, no, no!" when he realized what she was suggesting and the others in the room reacted likewise. Caelia expected this response, however, and she knew that this debate could not possibly be won during just one committee meeting. In the following days, the girl kept the discussion going through sheer willpower. Every citizen of Annâles-Scientia knew that Caelia was both brilliant and remarkably mature for her age, and she proved to be clever, determined, and forceful as well. She even stopped wearing ribbons in her hair and let it fall freely; she thought it made her look older despite the fact that everyone knew her exact birth date. Within a week, Caelia had spoken to everyone in the population and she had convinced most people of the logic of her proposal.

But nobody was ready yet to actually follow her suggestion. The reason was open and obvious. No one wanted to risk their own children in such a way.

"The children who stay at home are in just as much danger as anyone who goes outside," she told them. "If the Yuzoi intercept our trade expedition, you know what will happen. Even if they don't find the way here, they'll keep closer guard and we'll never succeed in bringing enough food back. Your little ones here will starve and die. Taking some of us kids along will reduce the odds of failure by making our people look like innocent families rather than suspicious traders."

"We've never needed to use this trick before," someone argued.

Another countered, "More people are outside watching us than ever before."

By the end of the second week of Caelia's campaign, some people were suggesting a compromise. "What if we sent some fifteens and sixteens?" they asked. "Sturdy ones could carry as much as some adults and take care of themselves pretty well." Naturally, Caelia objected.

"Listen, people," she countered, "Picking sixteen year old boys and girls who look older than they are won't work. The adults who are going are young themselves. Who would believe that a twenty-five or thirty year old couple has a kid who looks eighteen? We need younger looking ones and we don't all have to travel with our own parents."

"Not every adult on the expedition is so young. Dagan and Matrika are forty," someone said, referring to the couple who would lead the expedition.

"Then they're the perfect age to have a thirteen year old daughter," replied Caelia.

To accommodate everyone, the final vote was taken at Meeting Square in the Chamber. A dozen people of all occupations climbed the steps to the platform of Speaker's Dais and waited patiently as they took turns expressing themselves. The concavity in the wall behind the dais reflected voices outward so the speakers could be heard by everyone in the square. People knew how to do the math and calculate the odds. As unpalatable as Caelia's plan might be, it really did increase their chances of safety. When it became obvious that a majority agreed with the girl, everyone made the vote unanimous by acclamation. Afterwards Binah asked five friends to come home with Escol and herself. Before they settled in, Escol turned to his wife.

"Why did you encourage her?" he lamented.

"I didn't encourage her, dear. I just realized the futility of resisting her."

"You did your best, Escol," said Ruadelf, the senior anginear who sat on the Dozent's other side. "You of all people should understand that your daughter isn't really a young girl but a force of nature. And whether you admit it or not, she's right about this stratagem."

Escol really did understand but hearing the words repeated did not make him feel any better. Binah took his hand and looked around. Except for Ruadelf, the other guests were all good working people who had sought shelter with the scholars and anginears. The graying but still powerful Oncle Smyth was acknowledged chief of the artifexers while Fernanda, a thin woman Binah's age, represented a faber association. Dagan and Matrika were agricoles, farmers who worked outside tending the small gardens which provided part of the food needed by the people of Annâles-Scientia. Unlike everyone else, their skin wasn't pale from lack of sunshine. Since the Dozent must remain neutral at all times, Binah usually spoke for the savant-litteratae who had been the original population of the caverns. Even though she came from one of the Honor Families and her husband's family, the Chancelars, had spawned very many genius scholars before Escol and his father, Binah recognized the value of all people. After all, anyone could rise through merit and intelligence or decline due to the lack of those.

"I should go too, to watch over . . .," Escol tried to say but every other voice in the room said, "No!" at once.

"The Dozent must remain with the people at all times," Oncle Smyth insisted. Turning to Binah, he added, "I trust we all were clear about you not going either."

"Very clear," Binah admitted. For a moment, it seemed she would re-start the argument but she caught herself. "Oh, well. In truth, I would only slow her down if something did happen. So would you, husband. She would need to watch over us instead of the other way around," she said but Escol was staring off into space and did not hear. Turning to Dagan and Matrika, she asked, "Are you sure you want to deal with Caelia?"

"It will be a pleasure," replied Matrika. "Besides our son Tabari is going and he enjoys the idea of having a sister."

"I doubt he will by the time you return," Binah said.

"He's a strong boy and he likes living in interesting times," said Dagan. "He'll do fine."

Escol began to stir. "She really is extraordinary," he said to himself, not realizing that everyone else could hear him. The others already knew that, of course, and loved the girl for it. They continued talking among themselves regardless of whether Escol paid any attention or not.
CHAPTER 15

The Boy § 2

The town was small, just like a hundred other such places in rural Westania. Its market street was unpaved but at least the dirt was packed hard enough to keep mud from being a major problem. About half of the booths and stalls were open for business on a pleasant afternoon. The crowd, if such a small aggregation could qualify as one, wandered idly as folks stopped at one place or another to dicker over or just look at things they needed or desired. It wasn't much of a place but many people in the world lived in worse ones.

Raimunde sighed when he saw the boy talking to a girl in front of her family's candle shop. She was pretty with big brown eyes, curly hair, and a coquettish smile. They both saw Raimunde approaching and their conversation stopped.

"What now, Dad?" asked Froilan. A trace of exasperation colored his tone of voice.

"We have work to do at the stables, son."

"Can't I finish it later? I'm busy."

"Come along. I need to have a word with you on the way," his father told him.

Rolling his eyes to express himself, Froilan turned to the girl. "I guess I have to get back to the job now. I'll look for you next time."

Her smile widened. "You really do have a job?"

"I'm the rake-pilot," he said. "You know, I rake it here and pile it there."

"That's not very funny," she said as her smile dimmed, but it didn't disappear entirely.

"I know it's not funny. I'm the one who has to do it," he said, and that was a bit more amusing to her. "Well, goodbye for now." He raised his hand and waved his fingers to her. She did the same in return.

"Oh, wait," she said as they started to leave. Speaking to Raimunde she asked, "Sir, may I ask a question? Is he really seventeen?"

"No. He's fifteen."

"I'll be sixteen next month," Froilan insisted.

"Hah! I knew you weren't older than me," the girl told Froilan. Turning back to Raimunde, she added, "I'll be sixteen soon too."

"And you're very lovely for any age. Or has my son already told you that?" The girl didn't say anything but the way she looked at Froilan answered Raimunde's question. Tugging the boy by the shoulder, Raimunde managed to get him walking in the direction of the stables.

"I'll see you soon," Froilan called out to the girl as he looked back.

"I hope so," she replied.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Raimunde mumbled, "You're going to be the death of me."

"Do you think Margee is prettier than Tissa?" the boy asked. His father already knew that Tissa was the daughter of the man who ran the potter's shop, so Margee must be this new girl.

"They're both older than you."

"Not by much and they believe me when I lie about my age."

"Son, I think we need to repeat that talk we had about puberty."

"Ack! Don't say it again. I remember it all. How I have these new feelings about girls and all that. You act like I'll say something I shouldn't just because some girl smiles at me," the boy replied. Then he slyly added, "Or holds my hand and lets me kiss her."

"What?"

"When the time comes, I mean." Froilan said with a grin.

Raimunde hesitated a moment before saying, "Come off of the main street with me." Froilan followed his father into a quiet alley and both of them looked around to make sure no one could overhear. "Son, I trust you with secrets, but . . ."

"But you don't want me to talk to anyone," interrupted the boy.

"No, that wouldn't work. People would think you're strange if you didn't take some interest in females your own age."

"And everyone thinks I'm fifteen. We should start saying sixteen now."

"Don't try to distract me and don't exaggerate too much," said Raimunde. "Boys, and men too I admit, want to impress girls and women. It would be easy to reveal something secret to one while trying to make her like you."

"Stop, please. If you keep saying this stuff, I'll have to rake up this alley too," Froilan scoffed.

"I'm just saying that you must remember never to slip even when you get excited. The urges will grow stronger for you in the next few years and you're already well advanced beyond most thirteen year old boys. Whatever happens, don't tell the truth."

"How can I tell anyone what's true?" the boy replied. His sarcasm dripped openly. "I don't know any truth because you won't tell me!"

"Quiet! Lower your voice. I do tell you things."

"Sure, tiny bits and pieces here and there. If I told a girl all that I know, it would be a very short conversation. And even if you did tell me everything, any story I made up would be more interesting than my own real life." Then Froilan saw the look on his father's face and added, "Wouldn't it?"

Raimunde paused before responding. "All right, I'll tell you something else. Something more important than what you've heard so far. But not here. Tonight at home after dinner."

Seeing that Raimunde was serious, the boy let his father lead him back to the stables.

When they reached their place of employment, Raimunde headed for a corner where harnesses, bridles, and other leatherwear needed mending and Froilan grabbed a shovel. Certain things had occurred during his absence which required the boy's attention. When he finished with the mess, he leaned the shovel up against a wall and looked around for something else to do. As he did, he saw a stranger talking to Chavel, the owner of the stable. Chavel pointed to Froilan, obviously showing the unknown man who the boy was. Froilan turned away. When he glanced back, he saw both men looking at his father.

Quickly Froilan had an idea. Carrying water was an appropriate task for a stable boy and something he could do without arousing suspicion. A bucket lay beyond where Chavel stood so Froilan walked to it, listening as he passed the men. Picking up the pail, he turned toward the back door and the water trough outside. As he passed near his father, he coughed. The father did not move at first but a minute later Raimunde glanced at Chavel and saw a man wearing a brown hood walking away. Odd that the man was wearing a hood on a nice day, Raimunde thought. Then two regular customers approached Chavel and began to talk. Knowing they would keep the boss occupied, Raimunde went out the back door after the boy.

"What is it?"

"I heard that stranger ask Chavel if you're really my father," Froilan replied.

"How can anyone doubt that? We look so much alike," said Raimunde. The boy just shrugged in reply, letting his silence say all that was needed. "What did this guy look like?"

"I couldn't see much because of his hood. All I know is that he had a big nose and a dark suntan," answered the boy. This time the father stood silent and thoughtful until Froilan said, "He's one of those you told me about, isn't he?"

"Don't say anything, but yes, I think you're right. One of the S, not the Y."

"We have to leave again, don't we?"

"Yes, first thing tomorrow. We should stock up on supplies before we go and get some hair dye for the horse too. Good thing we got that money that a friend left for us last week."

"I'm really going to miss Tissa, Margee, Frieda, and . . ."

"Who's Frieda?"

"I was trying to say 'and all the others' before you interrupted," said Froilan. "Frieda is the brunette who . . ."

"Never mind, I'll skip the details. What am I going to do when you're sixteen, son?"

"Real sixteen or pretend sixteen?" the boy said with a grin.

"Either one," sighed Raimunde. "Well, at least you're cheerful about leaving this time. Let's head east this time. I know a place where we can ford the Feluvial River without being seen and we haven't been in Amicitia in a long time."

"I have a suggestion since we have some money. You've been disguised as a man and posing as my father for five years. Maybe dressing in women's clothing would be a good for a change." Raimunde grimaced but did not dismiss the idea outright and the boy asked, "You're still going to talk tonight, right?"

"Yes. I promised."

The two lived in a small hut behind the stables. The odor was less than desirable but it did have privacy. After their simple meal, they sat in the dark since candles cost money.

"I'm going to tell you a name, son. A family name," Raimunde began.

"Is it our name?" Froilan tried to ask but Raimunde reached out, touched the boy's lips as a signal for silence, and then continued.

"The name is Audric. It's a very old name and a great one. The Audrics have always been an important family but never a large one. There were plenty of collateral relatives, of course, cousins and such, and in-laws from those who married into the family. But none of those people used Audric as a surname. The others all had eminent names of their own, but the core of the Audric family remained small in number."

"What happened?" asked the boy when Raimunde hesitated.

"Something terrible; you already know part of it. No one says the name Audric anymore. Most people think that none of us are left and those who suspect that I'm still alive are the ones we hide from."

"So it is our name."

"Never speak it. If for some reason you hear someone say it, try to listen but don't reveal that you've ever heard it before. Son, you remember that buried chest I told you about, don't you?"

"Of course I do. On the first day of every month you make me repeat the directions on how to find it just to make sure I still have them memorized."

"Well, today isn't the first so you don't have to recite now. You should never . . ."

"Never write anything down. Yes, I know."

"Forgive me for seeming pedantic but I'm telling you something of utmost importance. The chest contains no money or treasure, only a book. A book that tells the history of the Audric line for the last millennium. I wrote the last page myself but there still are many unwritten blank ones to be filled in."

"What does all this mean?" asked the boy.

"The Audrics have always been leaders, son, and never by force or power. People appreciated our family for our wisdom and compassion, and for another reason which is difficult to explain. The leader of every generation of the family has always been able to convince people to follow just by using words. You'll figure this out yourself, and I don't just mean with the girls who flirt with you. Many will follow you because they believe that what you say is right and just. The Audric family's leadership is an important part of the reason why much of the world has been at peace for most of the time over the centuries."

"But now no one speaks the name and we don't have peace," said Froilan.

"You're very perceptive son, but then I always expect great things from you. I don't know exactly when, but you'll need to find the book and read everything in it. You will write the next chapter yourself." The words were spoken with passion and sincerity. "Or if everything goes well, scribes will be hired to write about you."
CHAPTER 16

Euclind § 2

"What next?" mumbled Euclind as he stared out the window. Absent mindedly, his hands shuffled through the pile of letters, scrolls, and carrier-bird messages on the table in front of him.

"What would you like next, sir?" Radbert replied.

"Hmm? Did you say something, Radbert?" Euclind asked.

"I was just asking if you wished for me to do anything else."

"What? Oh. No, I can't think of anything else I need right now. Wait, has any other mail arrived?"

"You have everything that we've received, sir."

"If I get any more correspondence, bring it to me immediately."

"I always do, sir," Radbert assured him. As he turned to leave the room, he added, "Don't forget to eat your lunch. It's on the table beside your papers."

The Wise One of Lucidus corresponded regularly with many long distance friends and his influence spread far beyond the boundaries of his own city. He had traveled widely during his life and he was generous with his advice and knowledge, a fact which was appreciated by many people and not just scholars. As a result he had many friends, including numerous important people, who sent information to Euclind just because they liked him. He also had a network of paid informants all over the Eastern Side – including, some people believed, spies among the enslaved people of Hibbria – and he could rely on being kept up to date on activities in other cities and towns. He knew, for example, that the leading Madrére in the Sistéria had been in Matik until a few days earlier. Then she and the mysterious young Sistére with her had disappeared from sight. Euclind also heard that Sarkonian mercenaries were watching the Eastway Road between Matik and Torae, and he had no difficulty deducing what those two facts meant.

Euclind further realized that his efforts to aid Hadwin and the people of Anglio had been of limited success so far. His warnings had stirred some activity but not enough. If Anglio was attacked openly by the forces which were gathering around it, help would be slow in coming. Torae would send some of its warriors but would keep the best of its forces home to guard their own city, and Aidano, the Mayórę of Iteneris, was already vacillating. He expressed concern and made vague promises of support but kept talking about the need to protect his own people. Even the news from Hinterland was distressing. A small but vocal group of hotheads was urging residents to 'fight back against the hu-men intrusions,' 'protect our heritage,' and 'take back our land.'

"Take back?" Euclind mumbled to himself, but there was no point in trying to correct the historical inaccuracies being spread by persons who would not listen to him even if they could hear his voice.

Patron Edric of Matik had not yet responded to the message delivered by his nephew, meaning his wife had not yet reacted to it, so Euclind took a further step. He sent a blunt message directly to Patroness Gildea urging her to act.

"Will you wait until the minions of the Zafiri are trampling through Outer Matik to take action, or is it better to stop them while they are still distant from your city?" he had written her. "My fervent hope is that a quick show of support will deter an attack on Anglio, but if it does not then even stronger steps must be taken. I abhor violence and it pains me to recommend even a display of force, but other members of the Concordia besides Anglio will fall if the Great Cities do not move quickly. If the situation deteriorates much further, all of Matik's Civil Guard along with those of Riviarre, Niazport, and elsewhere else will be needed in the east."

Every leader East of the Sea knew Euclind's reputation and understood he was no alarmist. His intelligence-gathering network was well known and if anyone had both the information and ability to analyze the current situation, it was him. Whether they liked it or not, reluctant people everywhere knew they should pay attention to him.

"Watch the Eastway Road and don't let Anglio become isolated," he told them all.

Fortunately, not every bit of news that Euclind received was as worrisome as the situation in Anglio. Among other things he received was a report from one of his correspondents who lived far away across the Sea. When the first Žhìnian diplomatic ships from the distant West had arrived some years earlier, Euclind had made the long trek to Niazport to meet the new ambassadors. He knew something about the contacts between East and West during bygone times from his study of history, and during his earlier years he had once obtained an extraordinary document written in the Žhìnian language. That text still remained in his personal archives, and his years-long effort to decipher it had given him some familiarity with Žhìnian, at least in its written form.

This knowledge had proved invaluable. Only one Žhìnian diplomat, a scholar named Yanshuo Jia, had any comprehension of Eastern common speech. Together he and Euclind were able to translate enough words to make communication between sides possible, and while doing so they became close friends who exchanged a great deal of information during the following years. Yanshuo even used Žhìnian diplomatic ships to forward letters from Euclind to other scholars back in the West, and although it took months for replies to return, the leader of Lucidus regularly received correspondence from a score of his Western peers.

The lengthy letter he had just received, in fact, was from the Master Scholar of a prestigious dàxue, the equivalent of an Eastern universitas, and it answered some of his questions about the young protégé of an old friend of his. Euclind had good relations with members of the Sistéria, and his reputation for keeping secrets was impeccable; as a result, he heard things which were known to very few others. Stories about an amazing young girl found on a lovely but destitute island on the fringe of the Eastern Side caught his attention, and he put a lot of effort into learning more – including asking questions about her possible lineage back in Žhìn.

No Žhìnians knew the name Graice, of course (the word was Kêltikæn after all), but now Euclind finally learned something about a ship named the Nínjìng, a Žhìnian word meaning peace. The vessel had sailed secretly a quarter-century earlier on some undisclosed mission and had never returned. The loss of two very important people aboard, a husband and wife, was so stunning that the fact was kept secret from the Žhìnian people.

Even now, no one in Žhìn could say where the Nínjìng had been lost or whether a baby had been born onboard during the fateful voyage, but Euclind now knew enough pieces to put the puzzle together. It was a very intriguing puzzle indeed.
CHAPTER 17

Men in Gray

The room was lit only by the red light coming from some sort of flameless lantern. Two men sat waiting when the door opened and a third entered. All three looked similar with the same pale skin, black hair, beards, and thin lips although the new arrival seemed younger than the others. Black bands circled the sleeves of the two who waited, showing their status as Overlords; other than that, the gray garments of all three were identical.

"Sit down, Aztok," said one of the waiting men. "Our brother Rezma and I want to hear about your inspection trip. We desire an impartial report, which is why we asked one of our unaligned brethren to make this trip." By unaligned, he referred to the fact that Aztok remained independent and not allied with the supporters of any of the three Overlords of the Triad, Zulla, Rezma, and Zetak.

"What do you wish to know, High Komrada?" Aztok asked the two of those three who were present and he looked around and noticed who was missing but made no comment. If Komraden Zulla, Overlord of the first triskaidek, chose to be absent then a question by someone of Aztok's standing was inappropriate.

"No need for titles and honorifics. All Zafiri Komrada are equal," said the one named Rezma without regard for the falseness of the statement. "Is the Hibbrian foreman causing trouble?"

"Not trouble, but he wants to give more food to those natives who labor. To make them stronger in our service, he says. He has already increased the ration to the maximum allowed within his authority."

"Impertinent bastard," mumbled Zetak.

"Yes, but he may have a point," replied Aztok. "The komminerons you sent to be construction-masters complain about the quality of the workforce. They blame the Hibbrian, of course."

"They always blame someone else. Even though they're commoners, they're still Zafiri and should be more assertive," Zetak said. "Aztok, are you saying we should allow this Hibbrian to have his way?"

"Absolutely not. His wishes are irrelevant, but it may benefit us to keep the laborers fit for work until the construction is complete. After that, we can decide if there is any benefit in allowing them to live longer. I refer only to those adults able to labor, of course, and not the useless old ones and children. The Hibbrian says those will not survive the coming winter anyway, which is convenient."

"Not totally, I think. We should keep the children alive for a time," replied Rezma. "And don't look at me that way, Zetak. I have not lost my mind and become soft; I think only of their value to us. The natives are oddly sentimental about their offspring. I suggest you have your Yuzoi captain round them up and hold them hostage. Make it clear we will stop feeding them if their parents do not perform to our satisfaction."

"Actually, that's a good idea. I'll send the order," agreed Zetak.

"Speaking of our Yuzoi, does the captain report any difficulty in controlling the natives?" Rezma asked Aztok.

"No, they're still the same docile weaklings as always," Aztok replied. "But there is one more problem with the Hibbrian. He reports that the crops previously grown by the natives are better suited to the weather at that altitude and thus produce a larger harvest than the new varieties. I suppose that's true, but he came close to implying that someone made a mistake when seeds for the spring planting were shipped."

"Then he must be executed!" snapped Zetak.

"Naturally, but I suggest not immediately," Aztok said. "I told him to report further with answers to the problem. We should let him determine the details about what crops to plant and where to grow them before we replace him. After all, that's what Hibbrians are for."

"Sensible," commented Rezma. "Squeeze out every last drop of usefulness before disposing of him."

"I was thinking of the future," said Aztok. "None of the food grown there will ever be good enough for us, but it will be sufficient for those who we will send to finish colonizing the area."

"Ah yes, our émigrés will need to eat when the time comes. I agree with this suggestion also," said Zetak.

"Is there anything else you wish to know?" Aztok asked.

"Yes, how did the sauriers perform?"

"With mixed success. When they run, they're faster than any creature in the world but stamina is another matter. Three died on the return trip. The trip took less time than usual but it's still a long journey. I'll report the details to the breeding technicians, of course, as soon as I visit the Succor for replenishment. Is it true that something faster than sauriers is . . ."

"Don't discuss it yet," said Rezma. "Things coming from the Nameless should be awaited patiently."

"I understand," Aztok said. "May I ask how our other plans have developed while I was gone?"

"You may, and the answer is mostly positive," answered Rezma. "A squad of our hybrid-creatures is en route to the destination for our opening ploy, and enough of the breedings have matured sufficiently for use so we're moving them into place. On the other hand, Zulla's Yuzoi are still training the new levies from the steppes so the army is behind schedule."

"That Yuzoi general will suffer greatly if he fails us," said Zetak with a snarl. Zulla's prestige would be diminished as well, but Zetak said nothing of that. Not out loud. "Even so, the enemy will never expect us to strike first so far west. By the time the city-dwellers raise enough forces to overcome brother Rezma's creatures and open the highway, Anglio will have fallen and Iteneris will be under siege."

"Excellent," Aztok replied. Having nothing else to say, he rose and left the room.

After Aztok left, Rezma watched Zetak's eyes closely for signs of resentment but the other Komraden kept his feelings hidden. Rezma devised a stratagem and remarked, "I disagreed with Zulla that sending an unaligned brother to inspect progress in Abbelôn was necessary. Especially one of Aztok's strength. One of your thanes could have done the job since the building project is within your province of responsibility."

For a brief instant, Zetak's control of his temper slipped and Rezma identified the Komraden's anger against Zulla. Strengthening the status of Aztok was a threat to the third Overlord of the Triad, not the first or second, and that meant Zetak. Regaining his composure, Zetak said, "I understand our first brother's reasons and it's best for us to cooperate always. It's ironic, however, that High Komraden Zulla was unable to attend and hear Aztok's report."

Rezma showed the faint trace of a smirking smile, perfectly calculated to let Zetak know he agreed the joke was on Zulla but not so much as to indicate any happiness that one of his fellow Overlords was angry at the other. Having discovered what he wanted to know, Rezma changed the subject. "This Hibbrian Aztok mentioned must be courageous to have said such a thing to one of us."

"All the more reason to get rid of him," said Zetak. "But Zulla's absence is more important. What do you make of it?" This time, Rezma's smile was internal and his face remained passive.

"He's cleaning up a mess – his own mess. You knew that one of his thanes scheduled an empowerment ritual this morning?"

"Yes, Nerez said his son was ready."

"Nerez was wrong. The ritual failed. The boy was euthanized, of course."

"But Nerez wasn't just any thane. He's Zulla's own get and he would have been next in line for a position on the triskaidek," Zetak pointed out.

"You state the obvious, Komraden. Failure of the ritual proves Nerez must be purged but the sign of weakness reflects poorly on Zulla as well."

Zetak pondered for a long moment before deciding what to say next. The implications were serious. What if Urzon, the second rank in Zulla's triskaidek, chose this moment to challenge for leadership? Zulla had been instrumental in planning their operation. His removal at this point began would be detrimental to their chances of success in the coming war, but a purge would create an opportunity for Zetak to further his own ambitions. He decided to risk a brief comment and was careful about his choice of words.

"My brother Komraden, I am the junior member of the Triad, merely the Overlord of our third band of thirteen, and I would never criticize our senior brother."

"As I said, all Komrada are equal. If two members of the Triad cannot speak openly in private, what would become of us?"

A complex and dangerous thought, Zetak thought to himself. Cautiously, he said, "The value of having three triskaideks in the Triad is that two will always be able to work together if needed in a time of difficulty."

"I agree."

They said nothing else out loud but sat and watched each other for several minutes. Whatever communication passed between them during the silence could not have been discerned by any observer.
CHAPTER 18

People in Rags

Daisy wailed and Myron protested as strongly as he could when their daughters were grabbed, but the Yuzoi who dragged the girls away were big and strong. All of the children, not just theirs, were being taken. The distraught parents followed to an area enclosed by a new high fence. The little ones were shoved in and the gate locked behind them. Cries of despair and moans of pain came from both sides of the fence. The chief Hibbrian stood with his head down as if embarrassed. Then the Yuzoi captain barked something and the Hibbrian translated.

"Your children will be kept here until work on the building is finished. So long as you work hard and satisfactory progress is made, the children will be fed. If you don't work hard enough, however, we . . . I mean, the Yuzoi will stop feeding your little ones. Do you understand?"

The weeping, the sobs, the anguish meant nothing to the Yuzoi. Yes, the people understood the bitter truth.
CHAPTER 19

Gildea § 2

Euclind's letter to the Patroness had its intended effect. "Show of force?" Gildea said to herself as she read it. "It'll take more than just a show. As I've said, old man Eudoxio, you're smart but soft. Fortunately, one of us has prepared to be smart and strong." Euclind could not hear her words, of course, but the attendant sitting on a stool nearby did and the young woman rose as Gildea turned to her.

"Fetch one of my personal messengers," the Patroness told the attendant. "Make it that tall one. I like him best." When the tall handsome young man arrived, Gildea gave him instructions.

"Go to Adne and find Master-Smith Hefaistu at his forge. Tell him I inquire about his health and then return to give me his exact answer. Say only this one thing and write nothing down. Return as fast as you can. I want you here before night."

"Yes, Patroness," the man replied with a smile.

Like the Riviarre and Niazport, Matik had first organized an army a century earlier due to the turmoil in the east and all. More recently, the death of Adálar, the last High Protector in Pàçia, made the need to recruit and train soldiers imperative; and most of the swords, spears, and shields used by this army, the Civil Guard, came from one place. Not exactly a city in the traditional sense although big enough to be one, Adne was built around the great forges supervised by Master-Smith Hefaistu and was located so that the prevailing winds blew smoke and fumes across the River towards Corager rather than over Matik. After all, no stenches could be allowed to bother the north-side of the city, and the south-side was too unruly to be a suitable location for a foundry of this type.

Adne was downstream from Matik. Riding in a racing scull propelled by expert oarsmen, the messenger reached his destination in two hours. Hefaistu was a big man with small scars from burning sparks scattered over his face and arms. When the messenger reached him, Hefaistu smiled and answered.

"Excellent? That was what he said?" Gildea asked the messenger upon his return.

"Yes Patroness, just the one word."

"Good. Superb, in fact. You may leave now but don't go far. I want to talk to you later."

"At your pleasure, Patroness," the man said with a sly smile.

He's getting impertinent, Gildea thought to herself as he left the room. I need to find another soon.

Contrary to his instructions, the messenger did write an account of the day's events but it was not given to the Patroness or anyone else in Matik. Sent secretly, it reached Riviarre and was brought to the attention of Premier Ermine.

"So Gildea thinks her little plan is still a secret," the ruler of Riviarre smirked. "Won't she be surprised when she finds out that Matik isn't the only city ready to face the storm!"

But he was wrong; she was not surprised because she already knew and later the Patroness received her own report from her spy in Riviarre. The tall handsome messenger disappeared.
CHAPTER 20

Rafe and Belo § 3

"I wish I still had my cloak," Belo said. "I could do a lot more in te daytime if I did."

"We're doin' okay. We got this far, didn't we?" Rafe replied.

"Yes, we did. See, I told you no one would try to stop us from crossing te highway. It was easier tan crossing te River. You didn't have to steal a boat to row across." They were reclining in the shade of an embankment overgrown with bushes and vines. Belo had taken the extra precaution of spreading Rafe's jacket over some branches above him so he was safe from sunburn during their daytime rest stop.

"Dose man-guys sure made a crap-load of noise about it," Rafe replied.

"Tat was just te dogs. Men keep dogs because tey bark, and tey definitely caught your scent. You knew tey would."

"You'd think they'd be friendlier to a lupun," grumbled Rafe. "You know, perfessional curtsey and all. Some of them man-guys saw me and started yellin' too."

"So? No one tried to stop you," Belo said. In reply, Rafe flexed his muscles and curled his lips to show off his teeth. Belo responded, "I know what you mean by tat gesture, but I don't tink tey avoided you just because you're so intimidating. Men know lupuns have legal rights; the High Protector made it so long ago. You can leave Hinterland and cross te eeessin road if you want to." Like Rafe, Belo used certain sounds of his own rather than speaking offensive man-words. His friend understood them and any grouchy humans who overheard wouldn't get peeped off at him since they didn't know what eeessin meant.

"You think they saw ya flyin' over?"

"Probably not but so what if tey did? Kiropterans are just as much citizens as anyone."

"Citti . . . citisshensss of what?"

"Hmm. Good question, but what I meant is tat we're both legal," Belo replied.

"Well, ain't we special?" Rafe said as he twirled one finger-claw in his sarcastic manner. Belo couldn't stop himself from eeking a chuckle but then he noticed that Rafe started to scratch himself and squirm around. That meant the big guy wanted to say something awkward.

"What is it, Rafe?"

"I shouldn't ask. It's a personal question," Rafe answered.

"Go ahead."

"Ya might get mad at me."

"You're worried tat I might get angry at you?"

"I know ya could sneak when I'm sleepin' and stick your needles in," Rafe said as he gestured with two fingers against his neck.

"We've been friends for a very long time, Rafe. I would never sedate you."

"I wouldn't rip your head off either but sometimes ya act like I might."

"Well . . . ."

"Hey!" Rafe interrupted in a mock-harsh tone. "Did ya mean somethin' insultin' when you said I worried?" Belo wanted to explain that he had just asked a question, not stated that Rafe worried, but the little guy couldn't get a word in. "Do ya think worryin' means the same as bein' afraid? Should I get mad at ya now?" The big guy tried to maintain an intimidating glare to finish the joke but he couldn't contain his amusement at his own clever (by lupun standards, that is) words and "Heh, heh, heh," burst out. Belo chuckled along. Kiropterans may seem more knowledgeable when they speak, but their senses of humor are truthfully no higher than lupuns'.

"All right, ask your question," Belo said but Rafe took a few more moments of squirming and scratching before he got to the point.

"Do ya feel bad about chasin' after dat affafinanced girl back home?"

"Affianced," Belo corrected him.

"Dat's what I said. Affinanced. Well, do ya?"

"Of course I do, and she wasn't a girl but an adult kiropteran lady."

"With a financee who was kind of a big shot in town, just like her old dad Takiss was," Rafe pointed out.

"You mean fiancé but you're right, and I did get caught in a compromising position."

"Ya were nekkid in her bedroom."

Belo sighed. "Te correct word is naked."

"I like how I say it."

"Tis really is awkward to talk about, Rafe, but I want you to hear it all," Belo said. "I was indeed undressed in her bedroom as you indicated. She still had on a chiffon night dress but I was sure she'd take it off until Takiss and tat fiancé of hers broke in."

"And a bunch of other guys with 'em, right?"

"Yes. Tey had quite a squad of supporters along, a real who's-who of kiropteran un-friendlies. Funny how tey just happened to be in te hallway outside her room. I had to fly out te window while I was still, well, disrobed." Belo paused in thought for a moment before continuing. "I had a lot of time by myself back in tat cave and I want to tell you some tings which occurred to me. Can we be completely serious now?"

"I'll be amazin' serious," Rafe assured him.

"Back when it happened, I believed Dallia really cared about me and I had feelings for her too. You know, I told you about it," said Belo. Rafe nodded in confirmation. "It's obvious now tat she didn't care at all. In fact, I believe she was working for Takiss to set me up. Let me tell you exactly what happened tat night. I had undressed and was attempting to persuade her to take off her night dress when all of a sudden she cries out, 'Oh, Belo!' like ladies sometimes do at a certain moment. Only she was very loud and I hadn't touched her yet. Not tat way, anyhow. So te door flies open and all tose guys came crashing in and started shouting some very negative words at me. Te timing was too perfect. It was te exact moment when I was completely compromised but before I had actually done . . . well, you know what I mean. My dignity was destroyed and yet her virtue was still intact."

"Ya call dat virtue?" said Rafe. "Her sayin' your name was da signal, wasn't it?"

"Oh, yes. It's very clear. It didn't occur to me at te time only because I was so confused about what was happening."

"Couldn't help bein' confused. Ya weren't thinkin' with your head," Rafe said sympathetically. When he saw Belo's face, he added, "Don't worry, I ain't makin' a pun because I'm still being amazin' serious. Nice, too. I'm just sayin' it's hard . . . I mean difficult for a guy to change directions suddenly, so to speak. Look, I know her old dad didn't like ya even before you started sniffin' his precious little princess, but why did they go to all that trouble?"

"Kiropterans don't sniff te way lupuns do."

"Nobody sniffs like a lupun but ya know what I mean."

"Yes I do, and you've asked te important question. Why did tey do it?" said Belo. "After much consideration, it seems clear tat someone wanted an opportunity to hurt or even kill me. Or else to drive me away from home, which is what happened."

"Drove ya away and hurt ya too. It was runhh impolite of them to shoot dat crossbow when ya were flyin' away."

"Fortunately my wing is much better now, tanks to you. But before we talk about why tey wanted to get rid of me, I want to ask you a question about tat same night."

"Ummf," said Rafe meaning okay.

"Why did tose two lupun guys pick a fight witt you?"

"They were stupid. Dumb to think dat only two of 'em could take me."

"Right, which helps me get to my point. You've fought a lot of times witt two at a time, wrestling matches and all sort of contests, and you never lost. Tey must've known you'd pound tem even if tey jumped you from behind. So why take such punishment? And do you tink it was coincidence tat a whole posse of lupun sentries came around te corner at tat exact moment?"

"Yeah, jusht when I had knocked 'em down but hadn't brrroken their bonesss yet." Rafe's pronunciation was slipping as he grew angry. "They even had a judge with them, dat nashty old growler Grarren, and he shtarted yellin' I wush guilty right away. Where'd he come from?"

"My friend, you were set up just as I was and some very shifty persons from te lupun community were involved."

Rafe growled and said, "Ya think it was because of those frurruff rumors they spread about me?" Frurruff was a substitute for a particularly objectionable man word.

"About you having ursine blood? Nobody witt any sense could possibly believe tat."

"Mama never shlept with no bear!"

"Of course not. She's a very nice lupun lady. Besides, bears can't interbreed witt anyone. Tey're just animals."

"They sshouldn't everrr have said that."

"I agree. Persons can be cruel sometimes," said Belo. "Your mama was quite tall for a lady and as I recall her parents were big too, even if tey weren't your size. I'm sure you come from a long line of ancestors who were extra large and strong." In truth, Rafe's parents and grandparents were no larger than average lupuns, but Belo was being polite and it seemed like the right thing to say. "Tat's why you're te toughest guy in all of lupunmanity, not because of what any rumors say. Besides, I have an idea about why tey wanted us to go."

"Errf?"

"Do you remember te guys who've been speaking up about hu-mens in council meetings? Complaining about how many live around Hinterland now and saying we shouldn't cooperate witt tem?"

"I know who ya mean. Troublemakers who ain't nice like us."

"Well, Dallia's dad and te rest who attacked me were guys like tat. So is Grarren, and I'm guessing so were te rest of te lupuns who helped him set you up."

"Yeah, now that ya mention it," Rafe snarled (an impressive facial expression on a lupun) and the long growl that followed communicated substantial anger. Belo knew none of it was aimed at him, however, and didn't worry. "You and me always said it was stupid to cause trouble with the hu-mens, just like most folks believe."

"Yes, most of our people certainly feel tat way but not everyone. You and I sometimes were a little more vocal about our opinions so we attracted attention," Belo explained. "We're adult males in our prime years, Rafe. Maybe we weren't popular enough to get elected since we do rub some people te wrong way. After all, you're an imposing guy and lupuns don't like being frightened. Te ones who have some reason to be scared, I mean. You know I don't mean you. I, on the other hand, sometimes get carried away witt my witticisms and folks may tink I'm sarcastic. Some say I'm a bit of a know-it-all."

"You're a smart ass."

"You put it so succinctly, Rafe."

"I don't mind ya bein' dat way. I prefer asses to be smart."

"Please allow me to make my point wittout any more crude summaries of my personality," Belo said. "We may never have gotten elected, but if trouble had come a lot of folks would've looked to us for leadership."

"And we would've said stay calm and everybody should just get along."

"Yes, tat's what I mean. Te lupuns and kiropterans who want conflict witt hu-mens arranged to get us out of town so we couldn't rally people against tem. Almost everyone agreed witt us but most folks are easier to push around tan we are."

"Damn . . . I mean runhh! Ya mean we got run off because of politics?"

"I'm afraid so. Disgusting, isn't it?"

"It's worse than disgustin'! Those assholie bastards threw rocks at me when I was leavin'!"

"Good ting lupuns aren't very good at trowing tings," Belo commented. "Except for you, of course."

"Good thing your guys ain't so good shootin' crossbows, too."

"True," Belo sighed. "And now we're stuck out here until we figure out how to get home and take our rightful places back."

"It ain't so bad like this. Huntin' your own food is more fun than goin' to the corral and buyin' it. But you're right about goin' home. We ain't gonna find our kind of girls out here."

"Ladies, you mean. Yes, it is difficult to lack female companionship. Even if Dallia had a deceitful black heart, she was very shapely indeed. And it was ssso close," Belo moaned.

Rafe never gave any thought to what made one kiropteran lady better looking than another but he understood his friend's distress. In a gesture of sympathy not usually performed by lupuns, he reached out a big paw and patted Belo's shoulder gently. Then he thought of a more cheerful subject to discuss.

"I'm glad we got across the road before dawn. It's nice here," he told Belo. "There's lots of deer spoor around and some other fine tasty scents too. Should find even more as we go north and get farther away from the man-road. I told ya we could find a nice hidey-hole up in the hills."

"Deer," Belo said wistfully. "Tat's a good animal to hunt. For you and me bote. Of course, when I finish feeding on one, it's still alive so I could tap it again te next time. When you hunt, te creature is always dead."

"Yep. Deer tend to get dead when I break their necks and rip their heads off."

"You know, someone who had an aversion to blood might get an upset stomach listening to you."

"Good thing I got you to talk to," said Rafe. "Belo, do ya think it's funny dat we got run off from home because we're the nice ones? Not funny heh-heh, the other kind."

"I know what you mean, and it's bitterly ironic, isn't it?"

"We just said everybody ought to be peaceful with de neighbors and dat gets us in politics trouble. It just ain't fair," Rafe complained. "Oh, well. Ya ready to sleep now?"

"Yes, tat would be good. Good day, Rafe."

"Um, yeah. Good day," Rafe replied as he circled around and scratched out a big enough place on the ground for his body. He finally settled in but continued to fidget for a while. After a minute, he spoke again. "Belo, I've had the itchies on my back since about midnight."

"Te itchies? Have you sniffed someting again?" asked Belo with some alarm.

"No, not dat. Wind's blowin' the wrong way. Can't sniff nothin' from behind and dat's bad. The itch dat makes me think somethin' is followin' us is different, and it's buggin' da crap outa me. We gotta keep movin'."

"You're making me nervous, Rafe."

"You nervous about me?" Rafe mumbled as he laid his head down. "What's the world comin' to?"
CHAPTER 21

Caelia § 3

Tabari, the son of Dagan and Matrika, insisted on comparing birthdays with Caelia and since they had nothing else to do while they sat and waited for the meeting to begin, she humored him.

"Aha!" he exclaimed when she told him hers. "You're only six months older than me. You make it sound like you're a whole year older, but you're thirteen and three months and I'm twelve and nine months and that only makes half of a year's difference."

"I know how calendars work, Tabari. Do you actually have a point you're trying to make?"

"If we're only six months apart, you can't possibly be my older sister," Tabari said. "It takes longer than that for a baby to come out after the parents do it." The grin on his face made it seem like he thought he was saying something dirty.

"I also know how long a baby stays in the womb. Has it occurred to you that we're only pretending to be siblings?" Before he could answer she added, "Siblings means brothers and sisters." The boy's face clouded. Caelia's implication that she needed to define words for him insulted the boy.

"You know everything – according to you – but you're not the only one who understands a lot of words, Caelia. Next you'll say you're smarter than anyone," Tabari complained. Technically Caelia did know she was, but the sense of tact and diplomacy she had learned from her mother would never allow her say such a rude thing out loud.

"You shouldn't be upset, Tabari," Caelia said. "It really doesn't matter who plays what role. Some of us, like me, have parents who can't go on the trip so we have to pretend to be somebody else's children."

"If it doesn't matter, then why can't I be the older brother?"

Caelia sighed. "Because I'm taller than you."

"No you're not."

Rather than argue, Caelia stood up and said, "Want to compare?" Tabari looked the other way and kept his seat. As she sat back down Caelia thought to herself, why are boys always so fragile? Using her calm tone she said, "I like the idea of you being my brother, and I know I'm only a little bit older even if people who don't know us guess wrong."

Caelia glanced around at the others who also sat in the meeting area, her co-journeyers on the trade expedition scheduled to leave the next morning. Being Caelia, she had automatically taken a seat in the first row. Tabari sat next to her either because he felt entitled to be in front since his parents were the leaders (the answer he would have given if asked) or because he was following Caelia (the answer he would not have given but was still true). The final selection had been made; sixty-eight adults and twenty-five kids would make the trip. Every group in Annâles-Scientia was represented, including the savant-litteratae since Caelia was along. Feeling was strong throughout the population that going outside was a risk to be shared by everyone in turn regardless of their occupation, so finding enough volunteers was never a problem. Eight of the kids were sturdy sixteen year old boys of the type Caelia had complained about earlier. These were paired with younger men in the belief they would appear to be brothers rather than children. The others were either with their parents or posing as another couple's child like Caelia.

Prior to the implementation of Caelia's plan, two members of each expedition were always assigned to each wagon, meaning sixty-eight adults would have driven thirty-four wagons. No attention had been paid to appearance before so some wagons were driven by two men, by two women, or by obviously mismatched pairs. As Caelia had pointed out, none of them had looked like plausible family units. This time thirty wagons were operated by actual couples with youngsters interspersed among them. Eight more were each ridden by single men accompanied by a 'younger brother.'

When Dagan and Matrika arrived and walked to the front of the group, Caelia saw Macon Peder, an artifexer, among the people with them. One of the artifexers always spoke to the departing groups to demonstrate the products which would be taken as trade goods. The expedition would break into smaller groups once they moved away from the mountains, so every member needed to be able to recite the uses and values of each item to prospective customers. Most products were familiar but the artifexers always managed to devise a few surprises and Macon had one of those with him.

When Dagan and Matrika stepped aside, Macon began by demonstrating the new product before describing it. He preferred doing over talking, he always said. As he held it up, people saw that it consisted of two metal cylinders about a quarter-cubit in length which were stacked one atop the other with a hand-grip attached below. The lower cylinder was fatter and had the plunger of a small hand-pump protruding from the rear. The upper had an opening at the front from which the sharp end of a metal dart extended. Holding it in his right hand, Macon used his left to push the plunger in and out for several strokes. He pointed the gadget at a block of wood on the floor beside him and his forefinger pulled back what was obviously a triggering lever. A noise somewhere between a pop and a puff was accompanied by a thump as the dart dug its head into the wood.

"We call it an air-darter," Macon told everyone. He looked as pleased as if some great triumph had just been achieved. "You can trade them to villagers to be used for hunting birds or killing vermin."

"Aren't bows and arrows a lot cheaper?" someone asked.

"Um . . . I think . . .," Macon stammered. Like most artifexers, he spent all his time making things rather than considering the intricacies of market demand. Fortunately, Matrika came to his rescue.

"A few folks will buy something more expensive just because it's new and different," she explained. "More important, demonstrating Macon's little gadgets should attract attention and get people to look at our other goods too. We always carry a few items like that." Macon wasn't quite certain whether her words 'little gadgets' were insulting or not and for a moment didn't remember that he had more goods to display. Matrika gave him a small nudge to get him started. When Macon finished, Matrika turned to the next speaker and said, "Myla, would you give us some advice about money now?"

Myla was a teacher who had made a study about the vagaries of monetary usage in the outside world. She spoke at length explaining why coins from any Great City were preferable to those from smaller ones such as Anstrella or Torae, except for the silver argents minted in Lucidus which were desirable anywhere, and why Westanian coinage was less reliable than most. She told them how many Anstrellan pence were in a shilling and what number of dimes made up one Matik pecunia, and then she concluded with advice on detecting forgeries before yielding the floor back to Matrika and Dagan.

"I know you've all rehearsed your stories and know what to say when people outside ask questions," Matrika said to everyone. "But I'm still going to repeat the highlights. If someone asks where you're from, be vague but don't sound evasive. Tell them our home is on the bank of the Fallal River south of the mountains but still far from Lucidus, and the reason we travel all the way to wherever you are at the time is that it's unprofitable and risky to cross the Fallal to the east. People will understand that and won't question why we only trade to the south and west of where we say we live. If pressed, say the name of our town is Alteria and the reason no one has heard of it is because it's small and distant."

"We remember all this and the rest of the story too," someone said from the middle of the group.

Matrika smiled and said, "All right. Then I'll let Dagan have the last word."

"We'll all meet here before dawn and leave as soon as we have enough light to see," Dagan reminded them. "Wear the clothes which were distributed rather than your regular outfits and pay attention to sunburn. Wear your hats and long sleeves until you've had a chance to get some tan. Get some rest tonight and remember leaving through the outer gate is different from taking the inner one."

Caelia had been through the inner gate often enough, although only for a few minutes at a time with small groups. She knew what fir trees looked like and about the difference between moss and lichen. She could also identify three types of wildflowers – indigo bells, bleeding hearts, and white trillium. Although she had never left home via the outer gate, she assumed that similar plants grew there. But she knew what Dagan meant about differences in the two exits. On the inside of the mountains, there was a considerable drop from the gate to the level of the High Plateau of Pàçia. Outside, however, the downhill slope was much longer since the plains below in that direction were lower than the plateau. As soon as the meeting ended, Caelia took Dagan's advice and went home to rest.
CHAPTER 22

The Boy § 3

In the dream, the boy was eight and old enough to understand more than the adults realized. Yes, he was bewildered as he stood at the center of their frantic activity, but he had overheard some things in the last month. Secret messages and riders on the road. Dangerous men with a strange sounding name. His aunt arriving unexpectedly to have whispered conversations with his grandparents before departing in a rush. The sadness in all of their eyes whenever they looked at him lately.

In the day of the dream, his aunt had dashed in with the worst message of all. His grandparents cried in anguish when they heard but they rushed to pack things. His grandmother ran to the kitchen to stuff food into a saddle bag while his grandfather did the same in the bedroom with the boy's clothes.

"This is all we have," said the grandmother and the grandfather told them, "This is all that will fit in the bag."

"We have to hurry which means going on horseback," said his aunt. "We can't carry any more. You packed the other bag as I asked?"

"Yes," said grandfather as he handed over a small satchel.

"Does he have to leave right now?" begged grandmother as she gasped for breath between sobs.

"Yes, he does," said grandfather as he looked one more time at the paper the aunt had brought. His face was grim and his lips clinched.

"Burn that now," the aunt said and he tossed it into the stove.

The grandmother fell to her knees and pulled the boy to her. He hugged her tight and leaned his head on the top of hers. Grandfather knelt and wrapped his arms around of both of them.

"I just wish we had more time with you, sweet boy," said grandmother and grandfather said, "It's too soon, too soon." She said, "We'll love you forever," to the boy and grandfather added, "Yes, we'll love you always." The boy was as brave as he possibly could be but his throat choked and tears blurred his vision. His grandparents squeezed him as long as they could but they knew the truth. As painful as it was, they understood the necessity and did not cling when the aunt took the boy's hand and led him outside to where the great horse stamped with excitement. The grandparents followed and stood holding on to each other as the aunt strapped on the saddle bags and mounted. When she reached down and pulled the boy up behind her, they moaned.

"Will we see him again?" cried grandmother.

"If fate allows," his aunt called back as she spurred the horse. As they dashed away, the boy found his voice.

"I love you," he shouted. They shouted back and waved. His eyes remained fixed on their faces until they disappeared from view.

He never saw them again.

***

When he awoke, it took Telemaco a moment to remember where he was. Their cabin had once been the abode of some forester, but when he and Meranda had arrived, it was just a roosting place for birds and a cozy home for small woodland creatures. Former tenants still returned often to chatter, squawk, and otherwise express displeasure regarding their unjust eviction. The boy sat up in his blankets and saw that Meranda was already awake on the other side of the room.

"Good morning, Mother," he said to her.

"Good morning, Tel. You dreamed again, didn't you?" she said as she came closer. She always knew when he did.

"Yes, but it was something I already remembered this time. It was about the day we left Gram . . . , when we left Naomi and Theo's home, I mean."

"You don't think of them as Grammi and Pappi anymore?" asked Meranda as she sidestepped the main issue.

"Those are baby names."

"You started calling them that when you were a baby, in fact. Before . . . before anything happened."

"Naomi and Theo aren't their real names, are they?" he said and she shook her head. "Tell me now. I'll keep it a secret like everything else."

Meranda's head hung down, and her sadness was visible. "They were Evando and Melisa Feoras."

"They weren't really my grandparents either," he said as a statement rather than a question.

"No, but their family and ours have been together for generations. They loved you as much as any blood-kin could. It's right for you to think of them as grandparents, especially since you can't remember your true ones. You should honor them always."

"I will. They'll always be my grandparents in my heart. And I know you're my aunt in truth."

"Your mother's sister, as you've always known," she said. Then Telemaco's face clouded and he spoke.

"It's been five years since we left home. Why haven't we gone back to see them?" he asked but the boy knew the answer before he finished the question. He softly said, "They're dead."

"Probably within a day after our departure," Meranda told him.

"Was it the Yuzoi?"

"Yes, they were the cause even if the Yuzoi didn't strike the deathblows personally."

"I hate them," he said bitterly.

"The Yuzoi are only the servants of their masters."

"Then I hate their masters more," he said. Meranda looked in his eyes for a long moment before replying.

"This is the time when I should tell you that hatred is an evil thing. It poisons the one who hates more than it hurts those who are hated. Our family has believed this forever, Tel, and these words are true. Yes, I should convince you that hatred is wrong but that would be hypocritical of me," she said, but when she saw his eyes she added, "Perhaps you'll be better than I am when you're grown. No, I shouldn't say perhaps. You will be a better person."

She waited for the boy to say something but he did not speak. The expression on his face, however, said 'tell me more now' as clearly as words could have.

"All right, my son, if I may still call you that; I've pretended to be your father for so long and now your mother, it seems like the right thing to say. Your parents were killed the day the Zafiri and their mercenaries attacked our home, the most peaceful place in the world. My father, your grandfather, was also slain. My mother had passed away two years before that awful day but my older brother, his wife, and their three children were killed then. So were my aunt and uncle along with all of their families. You father's kin suffered equally. Melisa and Evando were the ones who saved you and brought you to me. We've fled from the Yuzoi and the other servants of the Zafiri ever since." The boy wanted to hear more but Meranda changed the subject. "I want you to memorize the names of some more of my friends today. The last message we received said we've lost two more."

"The Yuzoi found them?"

"In one case, yes; it's always been dangerous to help us. But Sennora Emerick was old and the message said she died peacefully in her sleep. The names I'll give you today are the last on the list so now you'll know how to contact all of them. You already know how they leave money and messages for us at our secret places. Remember, no one knows about you, only me. I've kept your existence a secret from everyone including my friends since the beginning."

"I know but why?"

"Messages might be intercepted or people may talk under extreme circumstances. The fewer who know the secret the better, and I'm the only one left who does," Meranda explained. Sadness showed in her eyes as she continued, "This will hurt you to hear but you should listen anyway. I'm certain that Grammi and Pappi took their own lives before the Yuzoi found them. It's what they always planned to do if capture seemed imminent. They feared revealing too much when they were tortured." Tears of sorrow welled in the boy's eyes but none fell down his cheeks.

"You mean they died to protect me."

"Yes," the woman replied. "The time will come when we tell my friends about you – no, I should say our friends and not just mine. For now, avoid going near any of them for their own protection, but in a crisis any of them would give their own lives to defend us."

The boy's face was fierce and intense but he only nodded in reply.

"There's something else, son. How many times have I told you that one day you'll need to do something you dislike doing?" the woman asked.

"Very many and you used stronger words than dislike most of the time. You've nagged me constantly that if you say something is urgent, then I must do what whatever it is even though I hate the idea. I always remember your words."

"Yes, you do. I'm sorry for the way I've held things back over the years. It's not just that I wanted to wait until you were older . . . well, it's hard for me to get words out sometimes," she said. Her voice was soft and her eyes unfocused. "I'll talk as much as I can now."

"Good."

"But it really is difficult is for me to speak about our family. Just in case I fail to tell you all you need to know, I've written everything in a letter to you." She reached into a pocket stitched into her skirt and handed him a flat leather wallet. "Keep this safe. You'll need to read it if something happens before I finish telling you all the facts. After that, we must dig up the hidden chest so you can read the book inside. I don't know when that will happen. You may have to do it by yourself."

"You'll go with me," the boy said but he could see that wasn't what she wanted to hear. "I'll find it myself if I have to. I promise."

"Now promise me you'll do whatever I say without hesitation," she pleaded. "I won't order you against your will unless it's truly necessary. Please promise, son."

He paused only slightly. "I promise."

"Come to the table now, please," she said. "I need to show you something. It's part of the secret." He saw a sack of flour and an enameled wooden box on the table. He wasn't surprised when she sprinkled flour across the top of the table. She often used a finger or stick to draw in dust or ashes, anything that could be brushed away quickly. "In the directions to find the book, do you remember the reference to the blue stone with this carved on its side?" she said as she drew Æ in the flour. "And a metal plate embossed with this symbol?" she added as she showed him Ŧ.

"Of course I do. It's 'seventy-eight chains north' from the rock and 'fourteen chains west' of the plate, and I know the rest of the sequence too."

"Good," she said as she wiped away the flour. "This is the chain." She opened the box and lifted a bright silvery length of metal links which were braided together in a complex pattern. When stretched out, it was almost as long as Meranda's arm and as thick as her little finger. An oval amulet dangled from one end. He stared at it until she spoke again. "I used this as a measuring tool when I buried the book. Keep this with you always now. You must not wear the chain around your neck – there are rules – but I've got a bag you can carry it in. It's flat enough to hide under your shirt."

"This is too shiny to be silver," the boy said as he looked down and fingered the chain.

"You're right. That metal is much stronger and won't tarnish. I'll tell you about its origin later and also about the inscription on the amulet. The chain is very old and valuable, but its only purpose is to carry the amulet which is even older and more important. The symbols engraved on it are the Emblem of a High Duty." Then Meranda pulled a small leather pouch from the wooden box. "This bag holds another amulet on a necklace but it's not for you to wear. In fact, it doesn't belong to any one person but to all the people. Keep it safe until we find the right person to wear it." Telemaco was staring at the chain but now he looked up to take the bag from her. Looking inside it, he saw that while the necklace was smaller than the chain, the two amulets were identical except for the difference in the symbols etched on them –   on the one with the chain and   on the other.

"I understand. This necklace is important too. Is it what I think . . .?"

"Yes, I'm sure you've guessed who wore it last. But let's talk of something else for a moment," she said as she tried to smile and lighten the conversation. "Tomorrow afternoon we'll ride into Peotta. That gelding we bought for you rides well, doesn't he?"

"Sure, but he'll never match Honora."

"What horse could? Listen, after we check to see if we have any deliveries at our nearest secret drop-off, we'll get a good meal someplace in Peotta and listen for whatever news we can pick up." She wanted to say more but she could see he was concentrating so hard on something else that he wouldn't have heard her. When he finally looked up, she met his gaze.

"Explain something you said about our friends," he demanded. "I understand why people can be so loyal to you that they're willing to die defending you. But no one knows about me and you said us. Why would they die for us?"

"Because they know who I am . . . and who you will be."
CHAPTER 23

Graice and Holder § 5

Graice was disoriented for a moment until her eyes focused and she realized she was still in the tent. Light from the campfire shining on the tents walls enabled her to see Holder lying next to her while Madrére Sybille sat on her other side. Graice's head was dizzy and she did not try to sit up right away.

"What . . .? What happened?" Graice asked Sybille.

"You broke contact, Graice. You let go of his hand."

"But . . . no. I wouldn't do that."

"That doesn't matter now. Did you find a memory?"

"Yes, but just one small fragment," Graice replied. Her dizziness decreased and she sat up slowly. Looking down at Holder, she said to Sybille, "Let me tell you what I saw while he's still sleeping." When Graice finished, the Madrére pondered what she had heard.

"Obviously the young woman is someone important to Holder. Are you certain he didn't think of her name?"

"Of course I am. Do you think I'd forget something like that?"

"No, but identifying her might reveal who he is. Determining where he was at the time would also be helpful. You say the wall was made of white stone?"

"Yes." Graice's voice was testy but Sybille recognized that it was only due to the Sistére's frustration and made no comment. Graice clearly felt that she had failed.

"Was it chalkstone or something else?" Sybille asked.

"I don't know. He didn't think about the wall at all, or anything else. Only her."

"Even though you didn't see the woman's face, you seem certain that she was beautiful."

"If you saw exactly what I did, you'd agree. Besides, Holder knew about her beauty. That part was easy to tell."

"Does it seem significant that contact was lost just as she turned toward him? You would have seen her face a moment later."

"What? No. Why would that be significant?"

"Never mind." Sybille decided not to mention the fact that Graice had pulled her hand away at that exact moment.

"Madrére, I wasn't able to make any link. All I did was observe those few seconds. He won't remember this when he wakes."

"You can describe it to him to see if that helps trigger something."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea." Graice seemed to tire as she spoke. "It would be painful for him to hear about someone he can't remember."

"He'll insist on you telling him, I'm certain, but there's nothing you can do tonight. You've had a great strain. Let me help you to our tent so you can lie down."

"Oh, I told Holder that Ignacio and I would take turns standing guard tonight. I need to ask Ignacio to take the first shift." Graice's eyes blinked as she struggled to keep them open.

"I'll tell him," Sybille said as she helped Graice to her feet.

"He should wake me when it's my turn." Graice's voice was soft and her Aura showed her exhaustion.

"Don't worry. I'll tell Ignacio what to do," Sybille assured her.

When Holder awoke, he was alone in the tent. He didn't expect to find Graice – he knew she wouldn't stay in a tent with a man any longer than necessary – but he wondered where Ignacio was. As he went outside Holder was surprised to see the predawn light glowing in the eastern sky. He had slept through the night. He looked around and saw Ignacio with a blanket around his shoulders sitting slumped by the cold remnants of the campfire. It appeared to Holder that Ignacio had managed to fall asleep without lying down again. Moving closer, Holder touched Ignatio's shoulder, causing him to open his eyes with a start.

"Why are you here instead of sleeping in the tent, friend?" Holder asked.

The older man sat up straighter and said, "I'm on guard. Madrére Sybille stayed up the first half of the night and I the second. She said it was important to Sistére Graice for one of us to stay awake."

"You and Sybille stood guard, not you and Graice?"

"Yes. The Madrére said Sistére Graice needed to rest all night because of the stress she was under last evening."

When he heard that, Holder looked pensive for a long moment before speaking. "Well, I'm up now. You should go in the tent and lie down. You have time to get an hour's sleep."

"Thank you," Ignacio said as he rose unsteadily to his feet. "Wait, the Madrére told me to wake her when you got up. I'll do that first." He walked to the second tent and said something softly through the canvas. A moment later, he nodded his head and came back to where Holder stood. "She'll be out in a moment. Good night, Holder."

"Good night." As Ignacio entered their tent, Holder picked up some sticks of wood and stacked them so he could rekindle the camp fire. Sybille would not appreciate the early morning chill. As the wood started burning, Sybille emerged from the tent. She wore a different dress than before, one that was clean and not badly wrinkled. Holder realized she must have just put it on in the tent. He waited for her to sit on a buffoe skin which lay beside the fire before sitting himself.

"Good morning, Holder," she said. Her face was puffy and her hair tangled.

"Good morning, Mother."

"I must look frightful."

"I assumed you intended to look that way," Holder said causing her to glare at him for a moment.

"Are you being funny?"

"Apparently not, if you have to ask. I'll try to be cleverer next time."

"You're a bold man, Holder," she said. "Few people attempt to joke with me."

"Because of your intimidating frightful appearance, no doubt." His smile was slight but his Aura sparkled with humor. "Graice said she could occasionally read certain things about me if I didn't object."

"And you don't object to me seeing that you're indeed attempting to be amusing."

Then Holder's expression grew serious. "Why are you up so early, ma'am?"

"Meaning why am I awake and Graice isn't?"

"Meaning why aren't you both still asleep. Ignacio said Graice was under a strain last night."

"So were you, Holder. Do you remember anything?"

"No. I went to sleep and then I woke up. Whatever Graice tried to do didn't work."

"It wasn't a complete failure. In fact, she achieved one thing of importance," Sybille said. "She was able to see a small fragment of one of your memories. It was only a few seconds long but it proves you still have recollections. We were worried that the injury to your head might have destroyed brain tissue and caused you to lose everything."

"Are you saying I have memories but just can't recall them?"

"It may not seem reasonable but that's the case. Graice said she was she was unable to find a link that would connect your memory to your conscious mind. That's the way she describes it. I admit that my understanding of what she does is incomplete."

"If she finds this link, as you call it, will I be able to remember everything?"

"That's what Graice hopes but success is far from certain," explained Sybille. "Holder, she told me what she saw and I suggested she tell you today. However, Graice thinks that hearing a description of a scene which you can't remember might be harmful to you."

"Is this why you wanted to talk to me first? To tell me this?"

"After hearing what Graice described, I believe you'll want to hear it regardless of whether it pains you. If that's correct, I'll tell you. It will be easier for me than Graice."

"Tell me now," he insisted.

Holder listened intently as Sybille repeated Graice's description. He stared at her face until she finished, and then he leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees. He lowered his head to look at the ground rather than at her.

"You don't recognize the young woman from this description, do you?" Sybille asked.

"No," he said sadly.

"Before letting Graice continue, consider the possibility that your memories may be too sad to bear."

"I don't care," he snapped but then Holder raised his head to see Sybille's face. "You're worried about Graice rather than me, aren't you?"

"I'm concerned about both of you. She's trying to do something no one else has ever attempted. Many things could go wrong and injure both of you."

"I don't want anything to hurt Graice but I can't be injured any more than I already am." Suddenly Holder relaxed control over his expression and Sybille saw intense frustration, pain, and sorrow on his face. He changed back to his usual stoic expression but Sybille knew that he had chosen to show her his real feelings. He told her, "Graice said that she and I have something in common because neither of us knows where we were born or who our parents are, but we're not the same. She has a normal recollection of her own life and I have twenty-four years lost from mine. No, it's not the same."

"You were twenty-four when . . . ?"

"When I woke up to find Dimas tending to my wounds, yes. He told me how old I was."

"You look younger than you are."

"Do I seem younger to you?"

"No. Just the opposite," she said. "Holder, whether or not I agree with Graice's methods is irrelevant. She'll do whatever she wants and I know she wants to help you. Besides, even I agree that determining your identity is worth taking a risk." Then she looked around and saw the light brightening in the east. "The sun will be above the horizon in a few minutes."

"You can go back to sleep if you want to, ma'am," he told her. "We don't have to leave at the exact crack of dawn and I can load the wagon quietly."

"I would prefer to stay up with you. But I'm tired so don't expect me to be much help loading."

"Ma'am, I would be embarrassed if you so much as offered to help."

Sybille saw the twinkle of amusement return to his face. She wondered how he could switch from humor to seriousness and back again so quickly. He was, after all, just a man. But then he became solemn once more.

"Do you have a guess about who I am?" he asked.

"I never guess and I don't have enough information to analyze the situation with any accuracy."

"Madrére Sybille, I've decided that we shouldn't keep secrets from each other. You may ask anything you want about me and you should tell me everything you learn about my identity."

"I'll do the best I can, Holder," Sybille said as she looked in his eyes.

"That's not what I said." He frowned as he spoke.

"I know and I'm sorry, but I have my reasons for not promising more." With that, she started to rise but then stopped to ask something else. "Did your friend Dimas ever tell you what day it was when you woke up in Catai twelve years ago?"

"The twenty-ninth of Vernal Month; I remember because he used that day as my birthday from then on. Why?"

"I was just wondering," Sybille assured him. To herself she speculated: how far could a man Dimas' age move an unconscious man Holder's size in fourteen days? All the way to Catai? She thought yes, if he had a little help.

When Graice emerged she wore a new dress as well, one in a subdued mixture of dark yellow and tan. She had also taken her hair down from its bun so that the long thick braid hung down her back. When everything was ready, she and Sybille climbed into their cramped space in the wagon and the Madrére recounted her conversation with Holder for Graice. When she concluded, she asked, "Are you upset with me for talking to him before you awoke?"

"It doesn't matter, Mother. I'm sure you had your reasons and you always do what you want to."

"Me?" Sybille smiled wanly. "I do think it was for the best. Recounting scenes taken from his own memory is different from telling him our speculation about his identity."

"I'm not arguing with you about that. You declined to promise Holder that you'll keep no secrets from him?"

"Correct."

"I'm convinced you have some conjecture about his identity. Will you tell him?"

"I told him I never make guesses," Sybille replied.

"Will you tell me what you think?"

"I don't think anything, Graice. If I guess at the truth about Holder, I might believe he is more important than I could have imagined, and having that speculation in our minds would be a mistake," Sybille insisted. "Whether you believe that part or not, think about something else. If we say something prematurely and we're wrong, he'll be distracted by the false information and your ability to find the truth would be diminished."

After a moment, Graice said, "Yes, I believe you're right. I won't say anything to him about his name and I'll make sure no one else does either. But I will guess about what you're thinking now."

"I don't see the point . . ."

"Maybe I don't have a point but let me continue. I believe you gleaned more from his brief dream that you're letting on. You asked specifically about the white stone wall."

"Many places have white walls."

"Not so many and almost all of them are made of chalkstone. I'm sorry I couldn't tell what type of stone this wall was. All I can do is replay memories and if he didn't pay attention to something at the time, he won't recollect it now. The decorative sculpture on the wall was artfully done, for example, but he didn't notice it then so I don't know what scene was carved there now."

"I understand," said Sybille. "In his memory, you can't make him look at something he didn't see at the time no matter how curious you are about it."

"Yes, but he was aware of one spot on the wall where her elbow rested as she looked at the scenery. Even though she was in a city looking outward, it was nothing similar to the type of wall built for protection; not a thick structure at all, just something like the exterior of a building." Graice recognized that this description meant something to Sybille and said, "Madrére, you've said before that you met a few people during your travels who were resistant to your abilities."

"Yes, I said that."

"Were those people all in the same family?"

"Not just one family, no. But they were all members of a small group of interrelated families."

"Did everyone in those families have this immunity?"

"No, just a few."

"And did all of these people live in the same place?"

Sybille paused before answering, "Yes." Graice stared into Sybille's eyes for even longer before replying.

"I've heard that Abbelôn has delicate white walls which turn golden in the light of sunset."

"I don't know if those walls still reflect light like they did before, Graice."

The side road wasn't smooth like the highways had been but they still made reasonable time. For some reason Holder was in a more talkative mood and he chatted with Ignacio telling anecdotes about his late friend Dimas and their adventures with the caravans. At one point Ignacio turned to Holder and asked, "Would you like for me to give you a haircut when we stop?"

"Why?"

"Well, it is a bit long and rather ragged."

"I don't want it too short."

"I can trim it evenly and still leave it as long as you like," Ignacio said. "With that and some nice clothes, all the ladies would notice you."

"Is that a good thing?"

"I wouldn't know. They never paid much attention to me even when I was young."

"When we reach Lucidus, will Mother Sægesse pay me whatever wages have accrued?" Holder asked and Ignacio seemed alarmed.

"Yes, but I know she wants you to stay with us after we leave Lucidus."

"And I will, but I need to buy something and I didn't have any money to spend before we left Matik."

"Some clothes, I'm guessing. And it's all right to call her Madrére Sybille while we're out here with no one around."

"That town that I mentioned isn't far ahead so I'll keep saying Mother for now," Holder replied. "Now that you mention it, new clothes might also be a good idea, but I meant something else. I need a bottle of walawa extract."

"Walawa?"

"Yes. Mother Sægesse will tell you about it when you repeat this conversation to her."

"I . . . uh . . ."

"Don't be timid, Ignacio. I expect you to report all you hear to your employer."

"She's much more than an employer, Holder. She really is a dear friend."

"That's even more reason why you should tell her everything. Besides, I'm not keeping secrets any longer," Holder said. "If I recall correctly, we'll see that town around the next bend in the road. We'll seem less suspicious if we drive through it rather than around. Would you tell the ladies we'll be there soon?"

Ignacio stuck his head under the wagon cover and pulled it out a moment later. "They ask if we can buy some fresh food in town, just for a little variety from the dried stuff."

"We'll see."

"I should apologize again for the fact that all three of us are such novices," said Ignacio.

"Don't be sorry. And don't ask what word caravanners use instead of novice. As I said, it's rather impolite. I don't want Mother Sægesse to turn me into a lizard or some such thing."

"She really can't do that, you know. Neither can Daughter Elysia," Ignacio assured Holder.

"So I've been told but still it makes no sense to irritate a powerful woman."

Ignacio chuckled and said, "I do know something about that."

Very little was for sale in the town's market place, but Holder stopped the wagon long enough for Ignacio to buy four small loaves of bread and two withered apples at a little shop. "These were the only apples which didn't have wormholes," he explained to Holder when he returned. "Nothing else seemed palatable."

"You should give the apples to the ladies."

"I will unless they insist on cutting them in half to share with us."

"I won't take food away from either of them," said Holder. "They can have my share of the bread, too. I'm fine eating tack."

"They definitely will not accept that, friend, and neither would I. I bought four individual loaves for a reason," replied Ignacio. Then he sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could lie to the Madrére. It would be a lot easier if I said we had four apples so she wouldn't insist on cutting these in half."

"Remember not to irritate her."

"Believe me, I won't forget that," said Ignacio. As soon as the town was out of sight, Holder stopped the wagon so Ignacio could distribute his purchases. Sybille reacted exactly as expected and demanded that the food be divided in exactly equal shares.

"Please don't, Madrére," Ignacio said. "Holder and I both would rather let you have the apples."

"Oh, let the men have their little game, Mother," Graice said with a soft laugh. "I'm sure it amuses them to pretend they can take care of us."

"Thank you, Daughter," Ignacio said to Graice. Turning to Sybille, he said, "Holder wants to buy a bottle of walawa extract when we reach Lucidus. He said you would know what that is."

"Humpf. Does he think I use it? Obviously I don't," Sybille said as she patted her hair. "Walawa is a cosmetic potion. Wealthy older women use it to keep their hair dark rather than turning gray."

"Hmm. He wasn't very receptive to the idea of me giving him a haircut either," said Ignacio. "He told me he didn't want it too short."

"Interesting."

"I'm sure he intends to tell us something," added Graice. "Otherwise he wouldn't have said anything to Ignacio."

"I believe you're correct," Sybille said. "Well, you should get back to the bench, Ignacio, so we can start moving again."

"Yes ma'am."

The road narrowed as they continued eastward and it had more potholes and rough spots as well. By the time they stopped to camp for the night, the women and Ignacio were tired of being bounced up and down. Before Holder had a chance to pitch the tents, Graice and Sybille approached him and got straight to the point.

"Why do you want walawa extract, Holder?" Sybille asked.

"I haven't had any in a while and if I don't drink some soon I'll have to shave my head," he answered. "Dimas told me that many times. Would the two of you look at my hair and tell me if seems different? The only mirror I owned was broken a month ago and I can't see it myself."

Graice started to offer him the loan of her mirror but Sybille spoke first. "Yes, we'll do that, Holder. Show us."

He bent forward from the waist so they could see the top of his head and used his fingers to part the hair down the middle. Both women leaned closer to observe.

"It's a lighter shade underneath," Sybille said. "Don't you think so, Graice?"

"Yes, definitely."

"Then I really do need to do something when we reach Lucidus. I'll also wait until then to take Ignacio up on his offer of a haircut," Holder said as he stood up straight.

"He's really quite good at such things," Sybille assured him.

Turning to Graice, Holder asked. "Will you try to help me again tonight?"

"Yes, I will."

"Thank you. If you discover who I really am, perhaps I won't need to worry about my hair anymore," Holder said. As an afterthought he added, "About posting a guard tonight . . ."

"We'll all take turns," Sybille insisted. "And don't argue."

Holder sighed but said, "All right, until we get into the hills anyway. Wild animals roam there, including wolven and some bears, and dealing with them is my job. Well, we should finish setting up camp and cook dinner now." He noticed that Graice was looking at him.

"What color is your hair when you don't darken it?" she asked.

"I really don't know. I always trusted Dimas' advice and I've kept it this way for as long as I remember."

The women looked at each other and nodded. Then Sybille glanced around and said, "Holder, please erect the privacy screen over by the stream. Graice and I will wash ourselves as best we can."

"In the morning, Madrére," Graice responded. "I'll be busy tonight."

Graice carried her flask and cup as she followed Holder into the tent. He stretched out and she poured elixir into the cup.

"Madrére Sybille will come in and sit with us after we start," she told him as she handed him the cup. He swallowed the liquid first and then spoke.

"She doesn't have to wait outside," Holder said as he started yawning. "Especially not if . . . I fall . . . as fast as last . . ." His eyes closed before he finished the sentence. Sybille entered and Graice lay down and took his hand.

***

They stood facing each other, he with his hands on her shoulders and she with hers on his chest. She was nearly as tall as he was and her bright hair was put up in an intricate style around her head. She wore a long silk-weave dress in pale green, the wedding color in most of the northland. Her smile was wide and joyous, and even though he could not see his own face, he knew his was the same. Finally they realized the music had been playing for some time and laughed. Turning toward the sound of the music, they clasped hands and stepped onto the walkway of polished white paving stones.

They soon reached their destination, a wide and spacious courtyard. It too was paved but the flat stones weren't visible because of the people packed onto every inch of space. Despite the size of the courtyard, the crowd had overflowed and many were forced onto the grass around it. The people stood facing the dais at the opposite end but when the couple approached from behind, necks twisted and heads turned until every eye was focused on the young pair.

As the couple came close, they saw no aisle through the crowd but smiling people began moving to let them pass. Their progress through the gathering was slow, however, because no one wanted to move far from the couple. Every man within arm's length, and many who weren't, reached out to clasp his shoulder or pat his back. Women did the same with the bride while young children tried to touch her hand. The crowd held members of every class of society from small-hold farmers to scholars. The edges of the throng were lined with delegates from provinces and lesser cities throughout the Eastern Side, each wearing the colors of his or her own homeland. The center, however, was packed with fellow countrymen, the people who smiled so widely and gazed so fondly at the passing couple.

Most of the truly important among the high-and-mighty visitors had managed to arrange places near the front, but even here the traditions of the homeland held firm. The Patron and Patroness of Matik wore extravagant robes and the dazzling Title Jewels yet they stood between a young schoolgirl and a carpenter, and the faces of the commoners outshined every jewel on the lord and lady. The eldest son of the Premier and Premiera of Riviarre had made the long journey, and a high ranking delegation from Niazport had traveled even farther for the occasion. Nearby an older woman wearing a pale blue robe was surrounded by three younger ones in white.

Finally the couple reached the steps of the dais and ascended to where their beaming families waited. The bride's father stepped forward and spoke the ceremonial first words. The couple turned to face each other and began pledging their promises.

***

"Well, now we know he's married," Graice said when she opened her eyes. Sybille studied the young Sistére's face closely. Was Graice showing a trace of disappointment?

"It's too soon to wake him, Graice," Sybille said after they had moved to their own tent. "You can tell me what happened now."

Graice described exactly what she'd seen and then said, "At least this contact lasted longer than the first. I didn't make a link but I've got a better idea of where to look next time. And when I said her eyes were blue I didn't mean the exact shade as his. Hers are lighter but still it's significant that . . ."

"Don't jump to conclusions. People with blue eyes live all over the northland, Graice, from Nordenio across Amicitia and even into Sarkonia. And you know about Kêltikæ and the other Isles too."

"If you say so, Madrére. But it's interesting that you failed to mention the one place I was thinking about."

"I just said don't jump, Graice. It could be someplace else."

"The white paving stones were hard and polished. Chalkstone is porous, isn't it?" Graice said instead.

"Yes."

"Then it wasn't chalkstone that I saw."

"Albivite, perhaps?"

"I don't know. Unfortunately, I'm not an expert on masonry. I'm certain it wasn't chalkstone but I can't say exactly what it was," replied Graice. "Also there was a building behind the dais on the courtyard but he paid no attention to it. I did recognize Patroness Gildea and Patron Edric, Ermine Ragnér from Riviarre, and relatives of Regis Augustin from Niazport as well. They looked younger than they do now and Ermine wasn't Premier yet so this happened before his father died. Holder didn't look closely enough at the Madrére and Sistéres who were there for me to identify them. The Madrére wasn't you, was she?"

"No. I would recognize Holder's face if I'd been there."

"We could find out which Madrére did attend. It was a very big occasion involving extremely important people."

"Unfortunately we don't have time to send a message back to Avont House to get an answer," Sybille said. "Graice, it's customary for people to say their names while taking marriage vows."

"What? Oh! How could I have missed that?" Graice said in alarm. "I didn't break contact again, did I?"

"You didn't let go of his hand this time."

"I'm glad but I still didn't hear any names. These connections are tricky and can be lost for any number of reasons. It's also possible that Holder could shut down a memory if it became too painful."

"That's obviously not what happened on this occasion," commented Sybille.

"No, he was very happy. Madrére, if we ever meet his wife I'll recognize her instantly. She's young and beautiful and every curve of her face shows clearly in his mind. Are you certain you've never seen Holder before?"

"First, you're guessing again about where this scene occurred."

"It's the same guess I made before, Madrére, not a new one."

"Well, try to control your imagination anyway. Admittedly I didn't help matters by putting the thought of albivite in your head – and yes, I admit such walls could only mean one possible place. Second, contrary to what you might think, I didn't meet everyone of importance when I was in Abbelôn. Certainly not everyone in all of Pàçia," Sybille said. "And third, my last visit was seven years before the fall. He would have been – what? – seventeen at the time."

"Your reaction is interesting again, Madrére. I just asked if you've seen him before." Graice said nothing else but a great many other things went through her mind. Sybille could not hide the fact – not from Graice – that she did indeed have a strong guess about Holder's identity, and the Madrére was mentally berating herself for not having seen it before leaving Matik.

During the morning, they passed through two small and un-prosperous villages. Afterwards when Holder called back to the women to say they had left behind the last populated spots before the Fallal Valley, Graice asked him, "May I switch places with Ignacio and sit up front for a while?"

"If it's all right with him," Holder replied. Ignacio nodded his consent and Holder pulled the waybeasts to a stop. As Ignacio climbed down from the bench and Graice emerged from the rear of the wagon, Holder called out, "Mother Sægesse may take a turn later if she likes. Ignacio assures me she won't transform me into a reptile so I should be safe."

"I think Ignacio's sense of humor is starting to rub off on you, Holder," Graice said as she approached the bench.

"Is that good?"

"It's excellent," Ignacio called out. "You're becoming droll and subtly witty."

"Is that how you describe it?" Holder replied. "I would use different words except Graice wouldn't approve."

Graice smiled at him when she took her seat and he returned the smile for a moment. But then his face saddened and she knew why.

"Try not to be too disappointed because you can't recall the events I saw in your memory, Holder," Graice said.

"Can you imagine how it feels to know you're married and not remember your wife?"

"No, I can't. I'll be quiet if you prefer, but would it bother you too much if I asked about some of the details that I saw?"

"Go ahead. I said no secrets."

"Well for one thing, it seemed to me that your bride's father officiated at the ceremony."

"Of course he did. My father-in-law was . . .was . . .," he tried to say but then his face contorted in frustration. "I almost remembered something! Why can't I get it straight in my head?"

"Don't get upset, Holder. Something good just happened. Let me explain. I thought I hadn't found the link I mentioned but I must have touched a small tendril of it, at least. Otherwise you wouldn't have come so close to remembering as you just did. If you get too upset now, it will hamper your progress."

"Okay. I think I understand."

"I need to explain something now about why Madrére Sybille would not promise to tell you everything we know," said Graice. "She and I have done some speculating about your identity but there's no certainty to our guesswork. If we tell you our guess and it turns out to be wrong, it will confuse you and make it harder to get to the truth."

He thought for a moment and said, "I think I understand that, too. Do what you believe is best."

As Holder spoke, Graice's fingers touched a small lump under the collar of her dress and for the second time he noticed that she wore something hidden around her neck. He remembered her story about what she had worn as a newborn on the beach of Kêltikæ but didn't ask about it. After all, he had a little charm of his own tucked under his shirt.

When they stopped for the sixth night, Holder told Graice, "We're making about as much progress as I expected. This road – if you can call it a road now – deteriorates even more ahead so we'll move slowly for the next few days, but then we'll speed up on the other side of the hills. It'll take another eight days or so to reach it, but the Fallal Valley is flat and level, and before long we'll intersect a road to Lucidus. It won't be a highway but most roads leading to Lucidus are decent."

"Don't worry, Holder," she replied. "Who knows what would have happened if you hadn't brought us this way. You haven't seen that Sarkonian rider again, have you?"

"No, nothing suspicious at all since that first day. Graice, will we be able to try again tonight? Another dream, I mean."

"Neither of us should push too fast. It really is stressful for both of us."

"I'm sorry. I don't want to do something that's hard for you," Holder said. "It's just that I shouldn't take the elixir tomorrow night or the next few after that. We'll reach the edge of the hills tomorrow and be in the middle of them the following days. I'll need to stay alert each night."

"Well, if we'll take several nights off afterwards, then another session tonight should be possible."

***

He stood beside a bed and gazed down at the beautiful woman lying on it. She seemed tired and her long hair was damp, but her brilliant eyes and warm smile dazzled as brightly as ever. His eyes followed hers as she glanced down to where a newborn lay in the crook of her arm. The child's eyes were closed in sleep and both parents looked back at each other and held their gaze for long moments. He knelt beside the bed and brought his head level with hers.

Somewhere behind him, cheerful voices called out saying, 'Let us see the baby, too!' He didn't speak or turn towards the voices. He merely held up his hand to signal wait, have patience! The voices continued chattering merrily but they stayed outside the door. He leaned to kiss her gently, and their lips touched for an eternity in their minds although it seemed only a moment to those who watched. Then he stretched across her to kiss the baby.

The voices became insistent now as people burst through the door and surrounded the bed – happy people with big smiles and soft words saying 'the baby is flawless,' and 'you've done so well,' and 'we're all so delighted.' He knew every face but did not look at any of them. He didn't care about the others. His eyes only saw his beautiful wife and perfect child, and the world seemed a wonderful place.

***

"Still no names?" Sybille asked Graice afterward.

"No, just the two faces, mother and child. He knew everyone there but he didn't even glance at them, so why should he think of their names?"

"Because it would be helpful to us now," Sybille said wryly. "But you're right and you should take the advice you gave him. Don't get frustrated because progress is slow. Besides, you've helped narrow the time line."

"How so?"

"He was twenty-four when he lost his memory and they already had a baby before then. They must have married quite young."

"Hmm. I believe you recall a couple who married at that age," Graice remarked. "Madrére, you remember those times much better than I do. After all, twelve years ago I was still studying my lessons in School, and the event in this piece of his memory occurred before then. Whereas you . . ."

"Whereas I was old and didn't have to study history because I was part of it. Is that what you mean?"

"Yes, but I would word it politely. Not many young people could draw such distinguished guests to their wedding. There could not possibly have been many ceremonies of that magnitude anywhere East of the Sea during that time, and I'm sure you kept track of such events."

"I understand what you're getting at, Graice," said Sybille. "And yes, I believe that my speculation – ours, I mean – is accurate. But it's still too early to tell him."

"Holder will want to start looking for his wife and child as soon as possible."

"Think about what he might discover if that type of search is successful. He should recover his memory first."

Graice's eyes opened wide and she said, "Oh. You're right."

"Don't worry. We'll know who he is soon enough. If Holder is who we think, our friend in Lucidus will identify him."

"But if he still can't remember his former life on his own, what difference will knowing his name make?" Graice said.

"That's my point. I'm glad you realize it."

Graice and Sybille both waited in the tent until Holder began to stir. As soon as his eyes opened, he sat up. Neither woman spoke but he knew the question. He closed his eyes and concentrated deeply. Sadly he said, "No. I still don't remember anything. Tell me what happened, Graice."

She recited the details and concluded, "It was a very emotional moment for you, Holder, seeing your wife holding the baby in its blanket so soon after childbirth."

"I don't know . . . ," Holder said as he lowered his head. "The green and white blanket was . . . a . . . a gift . . . ? From who . . .? Why can't I remember anything?"

"You just did," Sybille said, and his head snapped up to face her.

"What?"

Looking at Graice, Sybille asked, "Was the blanket green and white?"

"Yes. It had stripes of both colors."

Turning back to Holder, Sybille said, "She never mentioned the colors when she described it to you."
CHAPTER 24

Two Men by the Highway

Although the Eastway Road ran in a straight line, the Great River did not. From Anglio, the Grandis Fluve flowed southwest between Ostenland and Hibbria and then made an arc so that it ran northwestward as it approached Torae. There the River went around a bend and headed west to Matik. When the highway left Anglio, however, it ran due west, crossed the Fallal River at Iteneris and then the Great one at the Torae bend, and thus arrived at Matik on the south side of the River.

The area between Torae and Iteneris was not as densely populated as the Matik-to-Torae segment, but villages and small towns still dotted the landscape in plenty of places along the Eastway Road. One such hamlet, a small unpretentious place named Tock, lay beside the highway just south of the Veridis Hills. Some residents owned small shops beside the road which sold the customary goods to travelers and one citizen was the proprietor of an inexpensive eatery. Many others farmed the fields which lay behind their houses.

One night the café owner, an unimpressive man named Tellmon, stayed at work until after dark because a carriage-load of men headed for Iteneris had arrived late demanding dinner and offering to pay extra. When they finished, Tellmon suggested that he find lodging for the men. The village had no inn but local people, including Tellmon, often made a little extra money by renting bedrooms. The travelers, however, were in such an inexplicable rush that they hung lanterns from the carriage and continued their journey in the dark. While Tellmon was walking home afterwards, he passed a neighbor's house and saw his friend Zake sitting with a lamp on the front porch.

"Hello, Tellmon," Zake called out. "Come up and sit for a while. I got a new keg of home-brew."

"Thanks. I'd like that." Tellmon walked to the porch and accepted the chair and the cup his neighbor offered. They began to chat and the conversation soon turned to the unusual event of the previous night. "I was talkin' to Nehlan," Tellmon said, referring to another neighbor. "And he said some kind of critter came around last night. That's what set off all the dogs."

"You should'a talked to me sooner. I saw the thing when I came out to see what all the barkin' was about."

"Well what was it?"

"A lupun," Zake replied.

"What? They ain't supposed to be here. Rippers got no business crossing the River, let alone gettin' this far north of Hinterland."

"I know."

"Then why din't you do sumthin?" Tellmon demanded.

"Do what?"

"Chased it off to start with."

"Din't have to," said Zake. "He was movin' pretty fast goin' north."

"If you'd've got some of us together, we could've arrested it."

"Didn't do nuttin wrong. Just crossed the highway and kept going."

"But . . ."

"Don't 'but' me, Tellmon. You know the edict. You cain't grab 'em 'less they do sumthin wrong. Not any of them types. Gotta treat 'em like people."

"Well, damn. Edict's hunderds of years old. No reason to pay 'tention to it now."

"You remember where it come from," Zake said. "Ever' power this side of the Sea's been treatin' it like hard law so long they ain't gonna change just because of what happened."

"Ain't right, I tell ya. Damn rippers should stay in their own place."

"Not arguin' wid ya bout that."

"If we got us a posse, we could still chase it now," insisted Tellmon.

"Din't you hear what I jus' said? Besides, how'd we catch a lupun after he got a head start like this?"

"We could ride horses."

"Ride plow-horses? Even if we stayed on without sattles, horse won't get close to no lupun." As Zake spoke, his three dogs crept out from under the porch and peeked around the corner of the house. One growled nervously and then all three began barking wildly.

"Damn. Not another'n," Tellmon complained as the two men got up to see what the ruckus was about. Zake's bean field lay behind the house and on the other side of it stood a thick tangle of brush and trees. Something heavy was shaking the trees and rattling the ground.

What crashed out into the dim light of the star-dazzle was no lupun, however. Neither man had ever seen anything like it. In fact, neither would be able to accurately describe it later. Big – no, huge. Many legs, bent up and then down. The body sat up high. And four more just like it followed. The unknown and un-nameable things reached Zake's barn and began smashing it with forelegs that ended in sharp pointed claws rather than feet. Soon the barn was a wreck of shattered lumber. Two of the things walked onto the highway and stood facing menacingly in opposite directions. Two more began carrying rubble from the barn to make a barrier across the road and the last one crossed the highway and kept going north. When the two which were building the barrier finished dismantling the remnants of the barn, they turned toward the house.

Zake and Tellmon ran faster than they possibly could in the opposite direction. Neither noticed that the dogs had stopped barking and had a long lead on the men.
CHAPTER 25

Euclind § 3

When he heard the news, Euclind took no satisfaction from the fact he had warned everyone ahead of time. The blockade of the Eastway Road was a very serious matter and Euclind had never been someone who said I-told-you-so anyway. At least his warning had spurred the Mayórę of Torae to send a squad of mounted soldiers to patrol the highway eastward to Iteneris. Half way there, the men encountered travelers who were fleeing in fear back to Torae. Then they discovered the reason for the panic. The road was blocked by a barricade and four indescribable metal-clad monstrosities.

Euclind suffered a moment of intense concern for the citizens of Lucidus. If the Zafiri captured Anglio, Iteneris would fall next and then Lucidus would be in serious danger. Lucidians were adept at many things but made poor warriors. Euclind loved his people for that very reason but the city could not defend itself for long if attacked. He had another concern as well. Although Madrére Sybille had sent him no message for fear it might be intercepted, when she left Matik he had deduced her destination and was expecting her. He worried about her safety but believed she may have taken another route rather than the Eastway Road. After all, he would have heard something if she had stayed on the highway so he hoped she had found a safe detour around the trouble. Euclind dispatched scout riders to the edge of the Veridis Hills, telling them, "Watch for travelers coming from the direction of the High Road and help any that you find, especially if you meet any women."

Post-riders earned every bit of their pay over the next few days and very many mice in Lucidus died at the hands of boys to provide rewards for kestrels. When the news reached Matik, Patroness Gildea used the same bird to send a reply to Lucidus.

"Tell the good Mayóręs of Anglio and Iteneris that the mother-city Matik marches to their rescue," she wrote. "We are prepared to force open the road whatever the cost and will stand over our brothers to protect them from evil." Euclind gagged when he read it.

"She ought to let one of her scribes compose her letters for her," he said to himself. "Her language is both pompous and insincere. And she might be more convincing if she actually knew the names of Mayóręs Hadwin and Aidano."

A soft knock on the wall beside the open door preceded Radbert's entry with another letter, this time from Premier Ermine in Riviarre. It was virtually identical to Gildea's. Euclind already knew about both of their secret weapons foundries and shook his head sadly.

"I do worry, Radbert," he said while the man was still actually in the room. "We must defend ourselves but at what cost? If every leader becomes as eager for violence as Gildea and Ermine, what will become of the people?"

"I'm sure I don't know, sir. It seems like the world is going to hell since the High Protector died. I wish we had another one."

Euclind's head perked up at the man's words, but all he said in reply was, "So do I, Radbert." Sensing that his employer would say no more in explanation, the man returned to other duties.
CHAPTER 26

Caelia § 4

Goodbyes went better than Caelia expected. Although her mother surprised Caelia by shedding a tear, Escol kept his composure and only hugged her three times. Many people came to see off friends and family members and each one of them also said goodbye to Caelia. "Be careful, darling," one woman told her. "You're important to all of us."

Leaving the cavern afterwards proved to be slightly anticlimactic but as the group trekked down the mountain, Caelia's excitement began to build. She was actually outside and proving she could do anything a mere adult could. The hike was more arduous than she had expected but tired muscles did not lessen her fortitude. The trail down the mountainside was narrow and camouflaged. Stairways made the hike easier in steep places but these were so well hidden that frequently it was difficult to tell which stones were part of the stairs and which were just loose rocks. Everyone wore a backpack and groups of men carefully lowered carts with good brakes down the slope; thus the manufactured products of Annâles-Scientia were carried on the first leg toward the outside world.

Due to the overriding need for secrecy combined with the exertion necessary to get down the mountain, the artifexers, anginears, and tekniks in the Chamber produced only small but valuable trade items. Most were made of metal but component parts of ceramic and carved wood were common and their appeal to customers came not from size but from exceptional workmanship and ingenuity. The loads contained many tools – never large hammers or saws but very precise implements which craftsmen would want for their most meticulous work. Caelia's pack, for example, contained kits of fine carving knives rolled into the pockets of strips of leather. Others carried scales which were always accurate. Honest shopkeepers, and there were many in towns and small cities, bought these scales to weigh merchandise so customers would be assured of a fair deal. People throughout the northland recognized the trademark stamp   as a sign of quality. In the markets of the Great Cities, however, such marks were often forgeries. Always the traders took a few clever inventions which were used to attract attention. Macon's air-darters were only the latest gadgets in that category.

At the end of a long day, the group reached the first stop on their journey – the cave at the foot of the mountain where the wagons were hidden. Once inside, Matrika told Caelia and Tabari to get a kettle from one of the wagons. Cooking gear, tents, blankets, and other such things were kept stored in the wagons rather than carried up and down again and again. The last expedition had also left sealed urns filled with rice, dried beans, and ground maize. Soon fires were built and simple dinners prepared. Messengers were sent to contact the trustworthy local shepherds who watched over the oxen between expeditions.

The next day, everything was assembled and ready. Wagons were divided into groups of three or four and Dagan called everyone together.

"Large trains of wagons traveling together would be out of place this far north and that would make us conspicuous," he told them. "That's why we need to leave here in small groups. Each band will depart separately and you all have your own directions to follow. The routes are slightly different but we won't be all that far apart. We'll reach the by-pass road on the second day." He referred to a road than ran east-west through the area between the mountains and the Hartgan Forest. Although not a highway, it was a well-built thoroughfare notwithstanding the fact that few people used it anymore. Everyone in the group knew how meticulous Dagan and Matrika were and patiently listened even though the route had been outlined many times earlier.

"Those of you who will take the road should remember to not get bunched together," said Matrika as she continued the briefing. "Some of us will head southwest until we reach the edge of the forest before turning west. Our first destination is a town named Catai which you already know about. When we rendezvous in Catai, we'll begin our trading. Once we've made enough coin, we'll continue on to the Feluvial Valley to buy our food."

Each member of the expedition nodded. They had their maps and knew where to go. Wagons started rolling.
CHAPTER 27

The Boy § 4

The boy rode a spotted gelding, a horse of only average potential, but the woman was astride a fine looking mare. Its chestnut color seemed odd as patches of plain brown showed here and there, but the dye completely covered the horse's true silver color.

"I think I'll call you Eagon next. It's a fine sounding name," the woman said as they reached the top of a rise in the countryside. They could see the entire panorama of the town of Peotta spread out ahead of them. As panoramas go, it was rather small and unimpressive.

"It's a better name than Telemaco," the boy said in agreement.

"I'll be Shaynira for a while. Meranda doesn't please me all that much," she told him. Then she asked, "Do you ever get confused with all the name changes?"

"I won't if you'll tell me exactly when to stop being Telemaco and start being Eagon."

She laughed at his reply and said, "Right now." When they reached one of their secret places outside Peotta, they found that a message did indeed await them – and a bundle along with it. Shaynira's face turned grave as she read the letter. When she handed it to the boy, he became equally solemn.

"Can this be right? Are they actually following us that close?" he asked.

"The friend who sent this is very knowledgeable and completely trustworthy. It's just me that they're chasing but if they find me they'll see you. I'm sorry, but we must . . ."

"I know. Let's go."

When they reached the cabin, both moved rapidly. Shaynira laid the bundle they had just received on the table and both changed into worn riding-breeches and tunics. The pants had leather patches covering the seats and seemed designed for longer trips than just going to town.

"So much for women's clothes," the aunt muttered as she cinched her belt. All of their possessions and a bag of food were quickly placed in saddlebags or wrapped into bedrolls, and the boy noticed that the woman put some things which she usually carried – including their money – in his bags instead. She then turned to their newest gift from secret friends. It was wrapped in a long roll of leather. She undid the rawhide strips which bound it and revealed a sword in a scabbard. Then she grabbed the hilt and pulled it out. They both stared at it. The long blade was made of burnished steel with sharp edges. Shaynira lifted it and said, "Most people wouldn't believe a woman could wield this."

"Most people only know ordinary women," said the boy and his aunt smiled.

"In the good years folks called me fortes femina, the brave woman," she told him. "It wasn't a real title and Duty, not like the one given your mother, just a name people used for me. But I enjoyed hearing it. I really did. Now it's time for me to prove they were right."

"What insignia is that on the hilt?"

"The trademark of some arms maker in one of the Great Cities, probably Matik. I fear we have lost more friends to obtain this." She slid the sword back in its sheath and turned to the boy. Her smile was gone as she looked deeply into his eyes. "There are no swords back in our homeland. Weapons have always been an abomination to our line, and I'm sure most of my friends disagreed with those who bought this for me. It's a sad and bitter day for us to come to this but you must survive at all costs."

She had repeated that last part often over the years and the boy asked for no further explanation this time. The woman rolled the weapon back in its leather wrapping and said, "Best to keep this hidden until we get away from the populated area. We'll head for the Veridis Hills."

"The Hartgan Forest would be a better choice, I think," replied the boy. "Plenty of places to hide there and we won't risk being seen crossing the highway. We're halfway between the two, so it's the same distance either way."

"You're right, the forest it is. Grab your gear and come on." She led him outside to where the horses waited and said, "Put your bags on Honora today."

"Are you sure?" he asked suspiciously.

"Yes. You'll ride her. And if you have to ask why, son, I'll be disappointed in you."

The trail wound uphill through the trees towards the crest of a ridge above and was barely wide enough for them to ride abreast. The aunt now wore the sword strapped to her belt. Although the great mare which the boy rode remained strong, the woman had slowed to a walk to rest the gelding which was tiring after a long day. They took advantage of the slower pace to talk and the woman had just told him something.

"But if they mean the same thing as Prinkeps Defendêre, why not use the common words?" the boy asked.

"Everyone does now but the title is very old and should be respected. Since the troubled days after the end of Anziên times, the Counciliem of the Wise has selected one person of each generation of the Audric family to perform the Duty of Prinkeps Defendêre. Either men or women could be chosen and each was picked for merit. No one ever just inherited the position. Are you getting all of this?"

"I can memorize as fast as you can talk."

"Yes, I know you're remarkable. Our book lists the names of everyone who served as Prinkeps Defendêre for the last thousand years. There are other records before then but I don't know where those are anymore."

"You said once that my mother had a title," the boy said. "What was it?"

"I said title and Duty. A title is just the name of a position. Fulfilling the Duty is the important part."

"I understand," replied the boy. "Will you tell me about it now?"

"Ah, yes. This is a remarkable story although only someone old enough to remember the time can truly appreciate its significance. The High Duty of Benevola is so important that its title has remained unchanged since the beginning and we still use the same word now as then," she replied. "Only a woman could serve as the Benevola and she was chosen not by any council or elders, but by the people themselves. Every person in the land had a say in the choice and they could select a woman from any Honor Family, not just the Audrics. For as long as anyone could remember, the Benevola had always been someone of middle years or older. The previous one had been your grandmother, my boy. Your father's mother, I mean, not the mother of my sister and me. When she retired, the people of our homeland did something that had never happened before.

"They chose a young woman of nineteen to be the Benevola. Your mother. No one from any previous generation had ever been given so much responsibility so young. I told you everyone loved her – and not for her beauty. People saw what was in her heart and mind. Folks knew of her compassion and kindness, and her strength, beginning when she was just a little girl. I'm not exaggerating. My sister was truly extraordinary."

The boy saw his aunt's eyes focus on something far distant. "What exactly was the Duty of the Benevola?" he asked.

"She cared for the people and spoke for them – and I mean for everyone, especially those who were poor and weak. The Benevola went among them every day, something your mother had started doing when she was a child. Every Benevola made sure people had enough to eat and that healers saw to those who were ill. Often she traveled to other lands on missions of mercy, so it wasn't just our homeland which benefited. Whenever the Honor Families held a council of any sort, the Benevola always stood up for the needs of the common people – and none of the high-and-mighty of any city ever talked back to a Benevola, I can tell you!" She paused for a moment and glanced around before saying, "Look, the trees are thinning out. I can see a bald spot on the ridge ahead."

"We'll be able to see a long way when we get there," he commented. Turning to the woman, he saw a tear on her cheek. Leaning across the gap between their horses, he put his hand on her arm and said, "You can stop talking for a while."

"But I shouldn't. I want to tell you as much as I can and not make you rely on just reading the letter I gave you," she exclaimed but the tremble in her lip kept her from saying more right then.

"It must be painful for you to think of all this," the boy said but he really wanted to hear more so he prompted her. "Your brother was older than you, wasn't he?"

"Oh, yes. Adélmo was the strong, solid, good boy who always did the right thing. He was much too serious, not like me. My brother was the firstborn and my little sister the beloved one. I was the odd child in the middle. The tomboy, they called me. Always riding and playing games, or getting lost on purpose. I was full of pranks and many of them weren't funny. Well, not to anyone except me, that is. Some folks called me worse names than tomboy when I broke things or rode my colt through a garden." Her smile reappeared for the first time in days. "Remember when I told you I was beautiful back then?"

"Yes."

"It was true! Many boys wanted to chase me but I played too rough and they ran from me instead. I chased them mercilessly when I was a girl, and later I chased them for a different reason. Especially one young man." Her smile faded and she sighed. Even at his young age, the boy recognized the tone of love lost long ago. They had now reached the clearing at the top of the ridge. Struggling to keep speaking, his aunt continued. "Your parents married very young, you know, not too long after your mother became Benevola. And I admit that your father was a wonderful man even though I wished I had gotten married before them. He too was admired and respected by everyone. If only they'd lived, the world would be a much better place."

The boy saw tears welling again and prodded her once more by asking, "Did my father also have a Duty?"

"Yes, the third of the three High Duties. His appointment was as impressive as your mother's considering he was so young as well. My father named him to be the Kustos Folkę et Arcanûs, which means . . ."

She stopped in mid sentence as she turned her head to look back. The boy's head snapped around to follow her gaze. Behind them, still distant but obviously on the same trail as they were, rose a cloud of dust. The aunt reached and slapped the boy's horse on its rump.

"Ride now! And don't slow down for me!" she cried.
CHAPTER 28

Rafe & Belo § 4

"Wake up, Belo! Quick, quick!" Rafe shouted as he shook his friend roughly.

"What?" mumbled the high pitched voice from under the cover of Rafe's jacket.

"We gotta get goin'. Come on. Fast, fast!"

"What time is it?" Belo asked as he yawned.

"Three hours to sundown. Quit sittin' and get movin'. Climb up on my back."

"But why?" complained Belo, but when he saw Rafe raise his nose and inhale he cried, "Oh, dear!" and scrambled up to the big guy's shoulders. Rafe started running as soon as Belo got a grip.

"Breeze is from da south now. Caught a sniff," Rafe said in explanation of his hurry.

"Do you smell te same ting behind us you did before?"

"Yeah. What the harr can it be?"

"How te hesss would I know?

"Da runhh scent got so loud it woke me up, Belo. How'd dat frurruffin thing catch up so fast?"

"Don't know," admitted Belo. He decided not to say anything else when he realized how fast Rafe was running. The big guy would need all of his breath to maintain this pace.

When the sun was almost down to the horizon, Rafe finally slowed. Like any lupun, he could keep trotting along for days, but he had been sprinting for three hours and even the big guy needed a moment to rest.

"Stop for a second and let me get off. I'll fly now," Belo said but when he hopped to the ground he started walking instead. "I want to talk for a minute first."

"About . . . what?" Rafe asked with a gasping breath in between the words. Belo really did want to talk, but he also knew that getting his friend to slow down to a kiropteran's walking pace would be a tactful way of letting Rafe catch his breath.

"About tat ting behind us. I'm tinking I should fly back and get a look at it."

"Dangrrrrrus," replied Rafe. Belo knew he meant dangerous.

"I'm not going to get close to it, just fly overhead. Te sun's far enough down tat I won't get sunburned. Te more we know about it te better."

"Ya got to be amazin' careful. Ya hear?"

"I promise I will," Belo assured him. "How far away is it?"

"Can't tell for sure. Depends on how big it is. If it's little then it's real close but I don't think it's little."

"Hmm. Well, wish me luck. Keep moving nortt and I'll catch up to you when I get back."

"Good idea."

Rafe covered a lot of distance – he was well into the Veridis Hills by this point – and was beginning to worry when he finally heard Belo's eek-eek-eeks above him. The lupun had been around kiropterans all his life and recognized the panic in his friend's signals. As Rafe stepped out from under the branches of a tree to wave and shout to Belo, the big guy also caught a whiff of singed skin. Belo descended quickly and nearly collapsed when he reached the ground.

"What happened?" Rafe cried.

"Te eeessin ting shot someting at me and ten spit fire!"

"What'ya mean?"

"When I got close, I heard a bang noise and someting whistled trough te air close to me. Someting like a crossbow bolt but going so fast I couldn't see it. Ten tis ball of flame belched out at me."

"You burnt bad?"

"Not so bad I can't fly but I've got some blisters."

"And no eyebrows," said Rafe. "Get up on my back again. I'm goin' to run now."

"Tank you," Belo said as he climbed up. "I'm really not hurt badly but I'm shaking like a leaf."

"Well, what was it? What kinda nasty-nasty somethin' did you see?" Rafe demanded as he started moving. "What, what, what?"

"I don't know where to begin. It's big, Rafe, and I mean huge! Twice as tall as you and tree times as long. Looks kind of like a giant spider except it's got six legs instead of eight," said Belo, who was a stickler for details. "Te body sits up high because te legs are so long. It walked on four of te legs and waived te otter two around. Tose two in front have claws. Not regular claws but some kind of pincher-tings, like scissor blades maybe."

"Strange, strange, strange," mumbled Rafe.

"Even stranger tan I've said so far. Rafe, te whole ting is covered in metal! Not hide, not fur, not even a shell like a turtle. Just hard metal."

"Must be wearin' some kinda metal suit."

"Maybe, but I tink te metal was really its skin."

"Metal skin and not just a suit? Uurrrrgh. How can dat be?" The growl wasn't actually part of the question, just Rafe verbalizing his concern.

"I don't know but I remembered what you said tat first time you smelled it. Half animal smell and half man-stink was how you described it."

"And somethin' metallic I said. I did, I did."

"Yes, and you were right about everyting."

"Course I was. Why'd ya have to say I'm right when I'm always right?"

"Yes, I know you are. I was just making an observation," Belo replied. "Rafe, te worst smell of all came when it spewed out tat ball of flame. Even I could tell it wasn't a natural smell. Notting at all like burning wood."

"Yeah, I know," Rafe said as he sniffed. "Breeze's been catchin' up from behind while you're talkin' so I smell what ya mean. Real obb-nocks-sshuss."

"Yes, obnoxious is definitely te right word. Maybe I should fly ahead and scout a bit since te wind's on our backs. What do you tink?"

"Don't worry 'bout it. It's gonna shift in a minute so I can sniff what's in front."

"Good. I really could use anotter minute to compose myself before flying." Belo had no reason to question his friend's judgment about a coming change in wind direction. All lupuns were good at interpreting subtle clues about weather and Rafe was a grand master among his kind. Soon enough, the wind was in Rafe's face as he carried Belo along. When the big guy stopped, the little one tensed.

"What is it? Why did you stop?" Belo asked.

"Hu-mens in front of us. Four of 'em. Two man-guys and two man-ladies, and four of their beasties. You know, them wagon-pullers," Rafe explained. He took a deep breath and continued, "One of da guys is pretty big but da other'n ain't, and there's an old man-lady and a young one. Belo, da young one must be somethin' special. I ain't ever sniffed a hu-man that smelt just like her."

"Hmmm. Did you say four of tose animals tey call waybeasts?"

"Yeah," Rafe replied, and both of their stomachs growled in unison. They had not eaten since the night before. "Don't you worry, Belo. I ain't stealin' a beastie from hu-mens. Wouldn't be nice at all."

"I know," his friend sighed. "But we still have to decide what to do." They remained silent for a full minute as they contemplated.

"If we snuck around 'em, we'd get past without them knowin' we was here," said Rafe.

"Yes, we could. But you know what tat would mean."

"Yeah, dat thing followin' us would run all over 'em."

"Yes, it would," Belo agreed. "Which would give us time to get away."

"But we ain't goin' to do dat. We're goin' to go warn the hu-mens, ain't we?"

"It's te only nice ting to do."

"Well, runhh it all to harr," Rafe grumbled. "Why does bein' the nice guys always cause us so much trouble?"
CHAPTER 29

Graice and Holder § 6

Although progress was slow, the seventh and eighth days of their journey were uneventful. So was the ninth until evening. They were in the heart of the Veridis Hills and camped for the night in a pleasant little valley sheltered by the surrounding hills. As usual, Holder did most of the work of unloading and pitching the tents. Then while Ignacio prepared food, Holder attended to the waybeasts. He tied their tethers to stakes pounded into the ground near the tents.

"Is it necessary to keep them so close?" Sybille asked as they ate dinner. "They aren't the most enjoyable companions."

"I'm sorry, but it is," Holder told her. "We may encounter wild animals and I need to protect our waybeasts from being eaten."

"Eaten by the wolven and bears you mentioned?" Graice asked.

"And cats too," Ignacio said excitedly before Holder could reply. "He told me about it the first day we were riding on the wagon. But don't worry; he's killed all of those types of creatures before."

"When I was night-guard on caravans, predators sometimes came after horses or waybeasts," Holder explained further. "Usually I managed to frighten them away instead of killing any."

"When you needed to, how exactly did you kill them?" Sybille asked suspiciously.

"I have weapons."

"Where are they?"

"Under the front bench of the wagon," Holder said. "When I first came to Matik, I left them at the caravanserai and then moved them to the wagon later." Ignacio listened closely and knew that Holder told the truth, just not all of it. He had omitted the time in the middle when his bundle from the caravanserai had been in the guest room at the Way-House. Ignacio also realized that Sybille and Graice would recognize that omission, and they did.

Sybille's face darkened in anger but Graice put her hand on the Madrére's forearm to get her attention. When Sybille looked at the Sistére, Graice signaled 'don't say it'. The younger woman's Aura conveyed such strength and gentle calmness that no man other than Holder could possibly have remained angry about anything.

'That won't work on me', Sybille signaled back.

'Then be rational. He didn't know the rules and we need him now.'

Sybille immediately recognized the wisdom of Graice's advice. There was no point in chastising Holder for violating a rule he did not know existed. She smiled instead and said, "Thank you for being prepared, Holder. Do whatever is necessary to protect us, please."

"I'll go get my things from the wagon. Tonight, Ignacio will stay awake for the first two hours and then I'll stand guard for the rest."

"I want to help too," Graice said.

"We'll see," Holder replied as he turned to walk to the wagon. Ignacio scurried along as well and Sybille read his Aura as he left.

"Ignacio wants to stay away from me, which means he knew something about these weapons," Sybille said to Graice when the men were out of earshot.

"I'm sure he only found out after the fact. Ignacio might not be as important to the world as we think Holder is but he's still a good man worthy of our love."

"You're right, of course. Still he should have told me when he learned about it," said Sybille. "Oh well. I must be getting soft in my old age. I don't see any point in punishing Ignacio either." The Madrére smiled. She was in a good mood, completely calm with no anger at . . .

Suddenly Sybille's head snapped around to look at Graice. She stared at the Sistére's beatific face for a long moment as she thought about the implications of what had just happened.

"I never would have believed that any effect could possibly work on me, not even yours, Graice."

"Don't worry," said Graice, and Sybille didn't.

An hour after the others went to sleep, Ignacio felt lonely and nervous. Holder had told him to keep the fire burning and Ignacio had thrown more logs on it than Holder meant for him to do. The older man kept looking sideways to the ground where his friend lay asleep. If Ignacio leaned to one side he could touch the tall man, but he still needed constant reassurance that Holder had not somehow disappeared.

Suddenly Ignacio heard a noise in the distance, an eerie howling sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. The waybeasts stirred nearby. A second howl arose and this one was much closer to the campsite. Simultaneously, Ignacio reached to shake Holder and the waybeasts exploded into a panicked clatter of braying and honking. Holder sprang to his feet.

"What set them off?" he asked.

"Howling noises."

"Can you imitate the sound?" Holder asked and Ignacio did so. "Well friend, now you know what wolven sound like." Whatever Ignacio tried to say in reply was drowned out by the din of the waybeasts. Holder leaned closer and shouted. "Please fetch the bag of numbing herb from the wagon. It'll be better to keep the waybeasts quiet."

Ignacio moved at a speed unusual for a man his age and as he ran Sybille and Graice, both wrapped in blankets, stepped out of their tent. The Madrére tried to get his attention but he grabbed the numbing herb and ran it to Holder before returning to her.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"The waybeasts are frightened by wolven."

"Real wolven?" Graice asked.

"Yes, I heard them. Holder is going to silence our animals so perhaps you'll hear them too." One by one, the waybeasts quieted and the three people heard howls coming from four or five different directions. A particularly loud howl caused Sybille and Ignacio to flinch. He said, "That's closer than before."

Holder was standing beside the now-silent waybeasts staring out towards the sound. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted in his loudest voice, "These beasts are mine and you shall not eat them! Come closer and I will kill you! Do you want to leave your pups starving back in their den? Run away now and live!"

All of the howling stopped and Holder walked back to the others. Just as he reached them, the nearest wolve sounded off again.

"It's farther away now," Ignacio said.

"And the tone seems different too; higher pitched this time," said Graice.

"You don't think they understand what you said, do you Holder?" the Madrére asked.

"Not the words, no," he replied. "But they do understand the tone of voice. That's how the pack members communicate with each other. They spread out when hunting and when one finds something, it calls out in a certain tone to tell all of them to come. The rest of the pack reply so each knows where the others are and they're clever about their approach. If I hadn't interrupted, they would have surrounded the camp before attacking."

The wolve cried out again and Ignacio said, "It's even farther away this time."

"The change in tone that Graice noticed is significant too," Holder replied. "First the wolven told his partners there were tasty waybeasts here and now he's saying there's a big bad man to be afraid of."

"Fascinating," Graice said.

"Well, I'm going back to sleep. Wake me when it's my turn to stand guard," Holder said.

"Wait," Ignacio pleaded. "How can we keep them away?"

"Keep the fire burning and make noise," Holder instructed. When Ignacio reached for more wood to pile on the fire, Holder added, "The fire is plenty bright right now, friend. Save the wood for later in the night, please. As for the noise, I suggest you sing songs rather than shouting. I don't think your voices will keep me awake that way." With that, he lay down and left the others to stare at him.

The next day was strenuous, especially for Holder and the waybeasts. The trail wound its way up and down hills and passage was not easy. The landscape was wooded and tree roots added even more bumps in the path besides the ruts and rocks. They kept struggling on despite the obstacles, however, and found another camping site before sundown, this one beside a stream larger than any they'd crossed so far. Holder climbed down from the wagon and walked to its bank to look across. Graice followed and Sybille decided to join her. The two women halted a step behind the man.

"How deep is the water in the middle?" Graice asked and Holder turned to face them.

"The only way to know for sure is to walk out into it. I'll do that if you don't mind."

"Why would we mind? Go ahead," Graice told him and an awkward look came over his face.

"I only have two pairs of pants and the other is very dirty."

"I know," replied Graice. "It's not surprising they got soiled considering everything you've done in the last few days." Holder opened his mouth to speak but closed it again before saying anything.

"Pay attention, Graice," Sybille snapped at her. "He wants to take his pants off so they won't get wet when he wades in."

Graice covered her mouth and laughed. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I didn't realize that."

'Because you've become a frivolous youngling' Sybille signaled without speaking. To Holder she said, "Will it be sufficient for us to turn our backs or would you prefer for us to leave the area?"

"I trust you to look the other way."

They did and after a moment they heard the splash from Holder's feet entering the water. As he walked away, Sybille whispered something.

"Do not turn your head to peek at his bare legs, Graice."

"I would never do such a thing," Graice insisted, "Even though he's handsome enough to look at."

"Graice, listen to yourself. You're like a young schoolgirl getting a crush on the first man you see. You weren't this way before you met him."

"So you think my attention to him is of the improper kind, do you? I told you at the beginning that he was an intriguing and remarkable individual who should be studied, and you agreed. My interest is in helping him, and I'll remind you that you now believe he's someone important. Besides, even if I do develop an affectionate interest in him at some point in the future, so what? Lots of Sistéres become affiliated with men during their lives. How else would we have children? Many green-sashes and some blues get married and even you have two children, Madrére."

"I'm aware of that and all of those relationships, including my own, have been conducted properly with full attention to all relevant canons. Those rules are very strict, as you know. Graice, have you forgotten that this man is married?"

"No, I haven't," Graice said sadly. Sybille read that the sorrow in her voice was not regret that Holder loved another but something else. "Madrére, I have a bad feeling about his wife."

"What? Did you see something in his memory that you haven't told me?"

"No, not that. It's just a feeling."

"You're remembering the fate of the family of the man we believe he is, as much of it as is known anyway, but if he survived against all the odds perhaps she did too."

"This feeling I have seems more like your descriptions of the premonitions you get. It's something painful and personal, and I don't know what made me think of it." Before Graice could say anything else, however, they heard the sound of Holder stepping out of the water. They waited until he told them his pants were back on before turning around.

"Well, how deep is it?" Graice asked.

"This high on me," he said as he held his hand to indicate a spot just below his hip. "We may get some water in the bed of the wagon when we cross tomorrow. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll get to work with the tents."

Graice watched Holder as he walked away and Sybille started to say something. Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, however, and the Madrére turned to see a little girl watching from the shadows of some nearby trees. The child was six and had long black hair. She turned her back to Sybille and then disappeared into the air. The woman shook her head as if trying to shake cobwebs from her mind.

"What's the matter, Madrére?" Graice asked.

"Did you just show me something?"

"What do you mean?" Graice replied and Sybille concentrated carefully on reading the Sistére's Aura. No, the Madrére thought to herself, Graice was not the source of that little image and I'm definitely not having a vision. She could tell that from her own sensation and people don't foresee visions about the past anyway.

"It's nothing," she said. Sybille realized the figure she had seen came from within her own memory. Graice had been six the first time Sybille saw her, and it required no genius to interpret the symbolism of little Graice turning her back.

The shadows deepened around them as they finished dinner but enough light remained in the sky so that Holder could see the tops of the surrounding hills as he watched all around. While he was looking at the ridge on the southern side of their campsite, he stood up and said, "We have company."

"Where?" Sybille asked.

"You can see him silhouetted against the sky on the hillcrest," Holder replied as he pointed.

"I see him," said Graice. It took him a minute of focusing but Ignacio finally located the person also.

"My eyesight isn't as good as it used to be," admitted Sybille.

"He's being cautious. He wants to make sure we see him before he comes closer," Holder explained. "That's the polite thing to do."

"What should we do?" Sybille asked.

"Be courteous." The guy on the hill turned his face to one side so that the length of his snout and shape of his ears could be seen, as least to Holder and Graice's eyes. "He's letting us see he's a lupun before he starts down the hill. Look, he has a friend flying in a circle above him."

"Is that a sanguinan?" Graice asked.

"They prefer the name kiropteran; and be sure to pronounce lupun correctly, Ignacio."

"I will," the man promised.

"Is it odd that the two of them are together?" Graice asked.

"Not if they were in Hinterland. The real question is why they are here." Using his loudest voice again, Holder then shouted, "Come down and join us, friends."

"Won't the lupun frighten the waybeasts like the wolven did last night?" Ignacio asked nervously.

"No. Lupuns are persons and not animals," Holder replied.

"Persons who would like to eat waybeasts."

"Perhaps you should let the ladies and I do the talking, Ignacio." The lupun was sprinting downhill but the kiropteran flew faster and beat him to the campsite. When the little guy landed, Holder said, "Be welcome, friend, my name is . . . ."

"Sorry, so sorry! No time to talk! You must flee!"

"Why do you say that?" said Sybille as she stepped forward.

"Someting terrible is coming! Get out of te way fast!" squeaked the kiropteran. Then the lupun arrived and called out in his deep rumbling voice.

"Gotta run! Hurry, hurry! Da monster is comin' right behind us!"

"A monster? What are you talking about?" demanded Sybille.

"A big ting witt metal skin shaped like a giant spider!" the kiropteran said. "Except it has six legs instead of eight."

"Da runhh thing hurt Belo, too," said the lupun. "Look, look. Got blisters and burnt his eyebrows off."

"Spit fire at me, it did, when I flew over te eeessin ting!"

"Please slow down," Sybille said. "It's difficult to understand when you talk so fast." More than just the speed of their words was involved. The rapid switching from the high pitched voice to the low one was hard on the ears.

"Ma'am, would you mind if I spoke to our new friends?" Holder interjected. "I've been to Hinterland before."

"Go right ahead."

"Gentlepersons, my name is Holder and I presume you are Belo?" he said as he looked at the kiropteran.

"Yess, and he iss Rafe."

"It's nice to meet you," Holder assured them.

"Yeah, yeah, sure. Amazin' nice to meet ya but we ain't got time to get all talkity now. We gotta run!" insisted Rafe.

Holder had never seen a lupun so big before or a scorched kiropteran either. He quickly evaluated the situation. These two kinds of person were not prone to panic and yet both individuals obviously had been rattled by something. Even the big lupun, who seemed unlikely to be afraid of anything, was nervous.

"We should take them seriously," he said to Sybille and then turned to the two friends. "Would you mind explaining things a little more clearly to us?"

"We came to warn you about da nasty thing that's followin' us," said Rafe. "We're too nice to just sneak around ya and let dat monster thingie run all over man-guys and man-ladies."

"Perhaps I can explain a little more," offered Belo. "We've been moving nortt for several days and tis ting has been following us since before we crossed te big man-highway. No matter how fast Rafe runs or how much I fly, we can't get away."

"And now it's comin' right behind us," Rafe added.

"Tat's right. I tink it must not sleep at all. I flew over it to get a look and it shot someting trough te air at me and ten belched out flame. It's truly an awful ting," Belo said. "But like Rafe said, tere's no time to talk about it. Either believe us or don't but decide now."

"Yeah," agreed Rafe. "We've been amazin' nice to warn ya but we ain't gonna stand here and let da frurruffin' monster catch us too."

"I believe you," Holder replied before they could move to leave. "How long do we have?"

"Don't know 'zactly but it ain't gonna be long," Rafe answered.

"It'll take time to load the wagon and re-harness the waybeasts," said Holder.

"I don't tink you'll make it but I'll fly back and spy on te ting." With a whooshing downbeat of his wings, Belo was airborne.

"Brave little guy. Already got burnded once," Rafe said about his friend. "Don't never say anythin' bad about him."

"I won't," Holder assured him. "Ladies and Ignacio, get in the wagon but be ready to run into the woods for cover if necessary. We can't take time to load the wagon, but if we get away from here perhaps this thing will pass by without damaging our stuff."

"Holder, are sure about this?" Sybille demanded.

"Trust me and get moving!" snapped Holder. To Rafe he said, "Will you help me with the waybeasts?"

Rafe scratched himself behind the ear and looked back up the hill before deciding. "Oh, what da harr. I guess I'm just double-amazin' nice," he said as he followed Holder. They got the beasts harnessed but only a second before they heard Belo's warning eek-eek overhead.

"It's on te otter side of te hill!" he shouted without landing. "Run now!" As if to prove his point, a burst of flame and smoke flashed over the hillcrest from the other side. Holder considered the speed of a wagon drawn by waybeasts and concluded there was no way to outrun whatever was coming.

"Everyone get out of the wagon and hide in the trees!" he shouted. The waybeasts were thrashing in anxiety and Holder barely managed to hold them still until Graice, Sybille, and Ignacio got out.

"What are you going to do, Holder?" Graice cried.

"I'll hold it off as long as I can," he said as he reached for his weapons. Graice tried to say something else but Sybille took her arm and pulled hard while Ignacio pushed the Sistére from behind. Together they forced Graice towards the trees.

And then it was in sight, perched menacingly on the hillcrest above them. The waybeasts went wild and rushed away as fast as they could, dragging the empty wagon with them. A second later, a belch of flame spewed forward from the monster and made the details easy to see. It was very large indeed and had some sort of metal covering just as Belo had told them, but its appendages seemed to be four legs and two arms rather than just six legs. To Graice, who had grown up on the seashore, it resembled a crab more than a spider, especially the pincers on the front limbs. When it started downhill, Holder stuck his stabbing spear point-down under his belt, nocked an arrow in his bow, and hurried forward. Rafe stood and watched in amazement until Belo landed beside him.

"Why aren't you running, Rafe? Let's go!"

"Damn it all to hell!" Rafe was so excited he forgot to use his usual lupun euphemisms instead of the real words. "Why'd he hafta be one of da good hu-mens instead of a bad 'un, Belo? Now I gotta help him." As Rafe ran after Holder, Belo took flight.

"Well, so do I now," he said to himself.

Halfway down, the monster sprayed flame again and Holder got a better look at it. The fire came from a short pipe extending from the front. As soon as it came in range, Holder fired an arrow only to see it bounce off the metal side. Then Holder remembered a charging bear he had once slain by shooting through its open mouth as it roared toward him. He drew his bow for a second shot and adjusted his aim. His second arrow missed the tube's opening but the third one flew right into the mouth. An odd gurgling sound was followed by more flame, only this time the fire poured straight down to the ground instead of spraying up into the air – just as if someone had set fire to a bucket of oil and then tipped it over. More and more burning liquid gushed out until the thing had to back up to get its head and front limbs out of the fire. When the leaking stopped, the metal creature stepped sideways and walked around the blaze.

Not certain what to do next, Holder drew his stabbing spear and started backing up. He moved away from the trees where the others were hidden and stepped toward the small river. As Holder hoped, the monster came after him. Then he heard a bang and gravel kicked up when a projectile moving too fast to see hit the ground beside him. Something with wings flew through the air in front of the thing and then turned and streaked past it again. Holder heard Belo's voice squealing, "Look at me, look at me!" A clanging noise made Holder realize that the kiropteran had dropped a stone but it did no damage. Belo circled over the stream on Holder's left side and the crab-thing chased after the little guy until it reached the edge of the water.

While their opponent was looking up at Belo, Rafe burst out of the shadows behind it with a rock in each hand. He ran close and threw both stones at a hind leg. Loud clangs rang out as rock hit metal but the only result was to attract the monster's attention toward Rafe instead of his friend. Rafe retreated mumbling, "Need a bigger rock," as the crab-spider-monster thing turned around and made another sharp banging noise. Holder was relieved to see the lupun duck behind a boulder. The thing stopped and seemed to be staring into the shadows to find Rafe. As it stood there waving its arms, Holder got a good look in the light of the burning hillside. The legs were made up of three jointed sections each and the lowest of the joints were at shoulder level to Holder. Deciding that the tip of his spear would fit into the seam of the joint, Holder ran forward while the metal thing was still facing toward Rafe's hiding spot. It heard him coming and started to turn but not in time. Holder ran right up to it and thrust his spear into the gap between the metal sections of the front walking leg on its right side.

A blinding flash, a loud noise, and an unnatural burning smell were accompanied instantly by a stinging pain running throughout the length of Holder's right arm. He staggered backward as his arm went numb and would not move. His stabbing spear remained jabbed into the thing's leg while sparks poured out around it. In the woods where she lay watching, Graice tried to stand up only to have Sybille and Ignacio force her back down.

"He's hurt! I have to go help!" Graice insisted.

"Holder told us all to hide here, including you," Sybille replied.

"Please Sistére, listen to what he said to us," Ignacio pleaded. "He knows a lot more about these things than we do."

Graice allowed them to hold her down but her tensed muscles did not relax. When she looked back up, she saw that the metal creature was stumbling about while Holder was now standing uneasily by the bank of the stream. It tried to step towards him but its damaged leg twitched and jerked spasmodically. Instead of moving forward, it spun in a quarter turn to the right and then hopped on three legs to turn back to face the man. As Holder backed up, it staggered along the edge of the water after him. Seeing something move behind the thing, Holder picked up a rock and threw it left-handed. Simultaneously, Belo dropped a second rock from the sky. The stones did no damage but the crab-like thing failed to notice Rafe running at it from behind holding a large and very heavy chunk of a boulder over his head. While still moving at full speed, the lupun slammed the big stone against the knee joint of the thing's left rear leg and this time the stone did a considerable amount of damage. The metal dented badly and the joint bent at an ungainly angle.

The monstrous thing tried to lunge at Holder but its still-smoking damaged foreleg caused it to lurch to the right again and stumble into the stream. When it tried to back up, the bashed-in rear leg could get no traction and the thing slipped farther into the water. Then both damaged legs collapsed and the thing fell. Before it was completely down, Graice was running to Holder. When the crab-creature's body hit the water, steam began to hiss and rise around it. Sparks flashed from several places and the thing moved no more.

The numbness in Holder's arm gave way to pain. He tried to understand what had happened but his head was spinning and his vision was fading. Then he realized Graice was pressed against his side and just before his mind went blank he tried to warn her.

"Get behind . . . the wall," he mumbled. His voice was soft but the tone seemed urgent.

"What wall?" she asked.

"Get . . . um . . . don't . . .," he murmured, but he couldn't form a coherent thought until he heard Graice's voice.

"What color is the wall, Holder? Can you see it? What color?"

"White," he whispered. "Just like her dress." Then his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground.
CHAPTER 30

Graice and Holder § 7

When he woke, Holder was still lying on the cold ground but someone had tucked one blanket under him and laid another over him. The campfire had burned low but no clouds blocked the star-dazzle so he could see Ignacio drowsing at his right side. The stars also showed Holder that it was middle-night. Sitting up carefully and using his left arm for support, Holder realized that someone had taken off his shirt. Clutching his hand to his neck, he called out, "Where is it?"

Ignacio snapped into full alertness and said, "Where's what?"

"The thing I had around my neck."

"You mean this?" Ignacio said as he handed Holder a leather thong with a thin pendant made of carved wood, the kind of thing some men kept as a good luck charm. It was a finger-length long and one of the flat sides was embossed with the image of a bird. Ignacio asked, "What type of bird is that?"

"A golden lark, the peace bird," Holder replied as he tied the thong around his neck. "Dimas made this for me; he was good at that sort of thing."

"I've never seen one before," Ignacio commented.

"I always wear it under my shirt. It's a private thing that I keep hidden."

"Actually I meant I never saw a peace bird before they all flew away," Ignacio said. "Madrére Sybille says they were common in Pàçia before the fall but I never went with her all the way to Abbelôn. I understand that people thought it was a good omen when the birds perched on the walls."

"Interesting story, but can I change the subject long enough to get my shirt back?"

"Not the one you were wearing, I'm afraid. The sleeve was still smoldering when we took it off of you but I dug out one of your spares," Ignacio said as he reached behind himself and picked up the other shirt. "We didn't try to put it on you earlier because you kept groaning when we moved your arm. How does it feel now?"

"I can move it," Holder said as he proved his point by raising the arm. "But it feels like someone is sticking a thousand needles into it. I can manage the shirt now, anyway." Ignacio handed it to him and Holder put it on and then asked, "Where's Graice?"

"She and the Madrére are finally asleep in the tent. I suggest we not disturb them yet."

"I agree; let them rest."

Ignacio hesitated then said, "Um, maybe I shouldn't tell you this, Holder, but I think you should know. There was some, uh, tension between the two of them when they examined you. Examined your injury, I mean."

"What made them tense?"

"Well, they did look at you closely, from the waist up that is, and found no visible injury other than those blisters on your wrist. Both are skilled in the healing arts. That aroma you smell is from the ointment they put on your arm and shoulder."

"Ignacio, you're a good friend but you're beating around the bush."

"Um, well I guess I am. Let me be blunt. When that metal monster crashed into the water, all three of us ran to where you fell. Graice got a head start and she runs faster than me so she reached you first and helped you as you collapsed. By the time I arrived, she had already unbuttoned your shirt and pulled it open across your chest. I made her let me finish getting it off, but Sybille saw what had happened and said some words to the Sistére about, um, propriety. When they went to the tent later, they had more conversation which I deliberately avoided hearing."

"Propriety? I don't understand."

"Please don't repeat this, but I think the Madrére is wrong and Graice did nothing improper," Ignacio said. "We were all very worried about you being hurt – where would we be without you, after all – and it was reasonable that Graice should hurry to examine the injury. What difference would it have made if I'd undone the buttons first? They both touched you during the healing."

"I don't know what to say."

"I don't either except that lately Madrére Sybille seems concerned whenever Graice is near you. I have no idea why. Maybe whatever you said to Sistére Graice before you passed out set off the Madrére's temper this time."

"I don't remember saying anything." Holder said but then he shook his head and thought, or do I? "Well, I'm glad that you three didn't try to move me to the tent. I'm too heavy for you to carry."

"Our friend Rafe offered to help. He's as big and strong as you are but both ladies said it would be better not to move you while you were unconscious."

"I presume he and Belo have continued their journey," remarked Holder. "They seemed in a hurry and this is prime traveling time for them."

"They haven't left at all. They're on guard protecting us right now," Ignacio told him.

Holder frowned and asked, "Did Graice do something to make them change their minds?"

"What? Oh, you mean her, ah, ability," Ignacio responded. "No, she didn't. They volunteered willingly. Now little Belo is flying somewhere up in the darkness and Rafe is lurking in the woods keeping an eye out for anything that might come. Wait, is lurking an acceptable word to use about a lupun?"

"Yes, but it's always a good idea to ask about words to use when speaking to a lupun. Never say that one is hiding, for example. 'Lurking' means a lupun is waiting around and being menacing, which they don't mind, but 'hiding' implies some question about their courage. Why would someone hide unless he was afraid, you see?"

"I do see," Ignacio said. "Belo told me that lupuns can be sensitive about any perceived slights. I've talked to both of them while you were sleeping, Holder, and they're very interesting guys."

Holder held a hand against one ear and shook his head. "Do you hear something?"

"Just the splashing of the stream; nothing else."

"My ears are ringing. I hope this doesn't last," Holder said. Then he looked up and Ignacio flinched when they heard Belo's voice from overhead.

"I'm glad we're interesting to you, friend Ignacio," Belo said as he fluttered down to land. "I'm sorry to you, friend Holder. Tat ringing in your ears was me calling to Rafe to say you were awake. He's coming too."

"I didn't hear a thing," said Ignacio.

"Hu-mens can't hear my highest voice but Rafe can. You've seen what big ears he has."

"I got byoo-tee-full ears but they're not as amazin' as my nose," Rafe's voice rumbled from behind Ignacio. The man twitched nervously again and wondered how someone that big could move so quietly.

"It's true," Belo confirmed. "All lupuns are great sniffers but Rafe is te best of tem all. He scented you from half a league away and knew right ten tat you were two man-guys, one big and one not, and two man-ladies, one old and one young. Oh, he smelled your wagon-beasts too, but tat part was easy for him."

"Remarkable," Ignacio commented.

"I ain't so proud of it. I missed somethin' till I got closer," said Rafe. "Was simple to sniff how special your little young man-lady is, but I couldn't tell how good Holder smelt at first." The man looked surprised so Rafe continued. "Didn't mean you smelt nice. No man-guys ever smell nice. Sometimes man-ladies do but not guys. I'm just sayin' you smell like you're good. You know, one of the good guys."

"Thank you," Holder replied. "But what do you mean about . . ."

"Rafe is referring to Miss Elysia," Ignacio interrupted to remind his friend to use their false names and then he asked Rafe, "Why did you say she's special?"

"Never smelt a hu-man like her before, guy or lady. Smells nice and good but that ain't all. Don't know how ta 'splain it, but she ain't just dif'ernt, she's real you-neek," Rafe said and then he looked at Belo. "Did I pernounce that word right?"

"Yes, unique. You did very well and I agree tat's te right word to describe her."

"Ain't easy to talk 'cause my mouth ain't shaped like a hu-man's," Rafe told the men. "Just like Belo tryin' to say 'tthhh' wiff his needles in the way. Ya know, the sheafs." Holder understood him but Ignacio looked confused.

"Yes," said Belo. "Te sheats tat hold our needle-teett are right behind a kiropteran's incisors. Tat keeps us from getting our tongues in te right spot to pronounce what Rafe said."

"Kiropterans use their needle-teeth to inject a sedative into their prey before they feed," Holder explained to Ignacio.

"I must admit that conversing with you gentlepersons is very educational," Ignacio said sincerely. He was becoming familiar with their speech and realized they both meant the word 'sheaths.' "I've never traveled to Hinterland or said more than 'hello, how are you' to persons of your kind so I really don't know the right things to say sometimes."

"If Ignacio says anything wrong, it's just due to his lack of knowledge. I'm sure he means no offence," Holder said

"Tat's perfectly clear," Belo reassured them.

"Yeah, and I been so amazin' nice lately that I got used to bein' this way," added Rafe.

"He likes to say tat word," Belo explained. "But he truly is very nice."

"Amazin' nice," Rafe insisted.

"Holder, Rafe was kind enough to run back and retrieve our wagon after Belo spotted it from the air," Ignacio told him. Holder looked across the campfire and noticed for the first time that the wagon was parked and the waybeasts had been unhitched and tethered.

"Your beasts ran into a small canyon, and when tey could go no fartter tey couldn't figure out how to turn te wagon around," said Belo.

"Just too stubborn is really it. Beasties just didn't wanta turn," Rafe replied in defense of the waybeasts' intelligence.

"Well, thank you both again," said Ignacio, and he turned to Holder. "When Rafe came back leading the waybeasts, they were better behaved than they are with you, Holder. I know you told me earlier that the animals wouldn't be afraid of him but I guess I forgot that in all the excitement and I was surprised."

"Well, now you know. I'm sure wild animals flee when he's hunting but domesticated livestock won't run away just because he's a lupun." Holder said.

"Yeah, that last part's jus' a miff," said Rafe.

"Yes, purely a mitt," Belo concurred. When he saw Ignacio's confusion, he added, "You know, an old story tat's not really true."

"You mean a myth?"

"That's what I said," Rafe grumbled.

"Me too," said Belo.

"Did Mother Sægesse talk to you two while I was unconscious?" asked Holder.

"No, not really," Belo said as he looked up to avoid making eye contact with the men. "She was very busy tending to you, Holder, and didn't have a chance to speak witt us."

"Then she got all grumpy-like. Didn't want her grouchy at us so we stayed back," Rafe said more bluntly. "Wasn't real polite to the special man-lady."

"Tat's none of our business, Rafe."

"Cain't help hearin' things, can I? But don't worry guys. I won't say nothin' to nobody."

"She'll probably want to talk in the morning," Holder said to them. "Will you stay?"

"We have no place better to go and don't need to hurry now tat te ting over tere can't chase us anymore," replied Belo.

"You may have gotten an incorrect impression of Mother Sægesse tonight," Ignacio assured them. "She really is an extremely good person and very wise as well."

"You really married to her, uh, man-friend?" Rafe asked. He did fine with Holder's name but wasn't ready to tackle the pronunciation of Ignacio yet.

"Um, yes," the man replied hesitantly. Rafe sniffed him and then turned to Belo.

"He ain't doin' any better wiff his lady than we been doin' lately," said Rafe. Ignacio blushed and Holder suppressed a smile.

"Be polite, Rafe," Belo insisted.

"What? I ain't?"

Belo sighed. "Tere's someting more important we need to ask our friends. Tis is a bit awkward gentle-mens, but Rafe and I haven't eaten since yesterday." Although Ignacio didn't notice, Holder saw both of their necks tense and twitch as they struggled to avoid looking sideways toward the waybeasts.

"We'd go huntin' for ourselves but that thing scared away ev'ry animal around here," Rafe explained.

"Where are my manners?" Ignacio exclaimed. "We have food. What would you like? There's a lot of hardbread and some very nice dried fruit . . . what?" The last word came when he saw the looks on their faces.

"Let me help," offered Holder. "Rafe, you won't like the flavor but we do have a supply of dried meat. Please fetch him a large portion of jerky please, Ignacio."

"Certainly," the older man said as he stood and went to get it.

"I'm sorry, Rafe, but we need our waybeasts. It may seem unfair but I believe Belo can take what he needs without hurting them."

"Yes, I can," responded Belo. "I'll take a small amount from each and tey'll never know it."

"Life jus' ain't fair," Rafe complained but there was no bitterness in him.

"Will your sedative leave them groggy in the morning?" Holder asked Belo.

"No, I'll be careful."

"Then go feed now while the ladies are asleep," said Holder and Belo scurried away. Before Ignacio got back with the jerky, Rafe's nose caught the scent and his face distorted into an expression that no human could possibly copy.

"Salt?" he cried out in disgust. "You dried out perfeckly good meat and put salt on it?" Lowering his voice, he grumbled, "No 'ffence to you guys, but hu-mens are jus' crazy."

Just before the sun rose, Holder shook Ignacio and asked him to awaken Sybille and Graice. When the ladies emerged from their tent minutes later, Holder told them, "We should leave as soon as possible to get away from this place. If you want to talk to Rafe and Belo first, you should to do it before the sun comes all the way up. The kiropteran doesn't have a cape with him."

"I understand," Sybille said, seeing the two friends waiting on the edge of the campsite. "Graice, I think you should come and hear this too."

"I'll be there in a moment, and if you want to keep our identities secret remember to call me Elysia, Mother."

"Don't be long," said Sybille. She stared at Graice a moment before walking to where Rafe and Belo stood. Holder couldn't interpret the look on Graice's face but then she turned to him and her usual warm smile returned.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked him.

"Yes, I am. My arm still hurts and tingles a little but I can move it normally now. It's much better than last night so whatever you did to relieve me worked."

"I doubt that we helped. To be truthful, neither the Madrére nor I know exactly how you were injured so any recovery is due to your own strength." Graice paused a moment before continuing. "Holder, you were pretty groggy after what happened, almost delirious in fact."

"Yes, it's a good thing you came to help so quickly."

"So you do remember me being there last night? I mean, you knew it was me and not someone else?"

"Sure. Everything else seems fuzzy but I knew you were there beside me. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Holder, do you remember telling me to get behind a wall last night? You said the wall was white, just like her dress."

"I . . . uh," he tried to say but Graice stopped him.

"Never mind, I shouldn't have asked so soon. We'll talk about it later." Try as she might, Graice couldn't stop her eyes from glancing towards Sybille and their new friends and she caught the Madrére staring back at her. Holder noticed.

"Rafe and Belo really are interesting persons," he said with a neutral look on his face. "Ignacio spoke with them for a long time during the night."

"Meaning I should go over to Sybille and them now?" She gazed at him but learned nothing at all from his expression.

"Meaning I think they have something important to say."

"All right," she said as her smile returned halfway. She reached out and touched Holder's forearm lightly before walking away. When she reached Sybille, Graice said, "You can stop watching Holder and me now and concentrate on the conversation." Belo and Rafe were both looking up at some apparently fascinating thing in the tree branches above and seemed to hear nothing. Because their faces were turned up, or perhaps for another reason, they couldn't see a little girl glaring at the Madrére from the shadows. Sybille glanced just in time to see the girl frown harshly and disappear.

Graice had paid little attention to Rafe and Belo the night before so she observed them more closely now. As she had seen when Rafe first appeared, his snout and pointed ears made him identifiable from a distance. Up close, Graice was now impressed with his big sharp teeth and noticed strands of dark gray hair peeking out from his collar and cuffs. He had a lot of short facial hair but it looked softer (furrier, perhaps) than a man's beard. While Rafe was as big as Holder, Belo was smaller than Graice. The teeth in his little mouth were sharp triangles and his nose was just a slash for his nostrils. His ears, however, were large forward-facing flaps mounted on the top of his head.

The lupun's brown shirt and pants were much like those any workingman might wear except for being cut to fit his shape. His chest was narrower in width than Holder's but deeper from front to back. The legs had thicker thighs and narrower calves than a man's, and they bent forward at the knee rather than being straight when he stood erect. Belo's black clothes had once been dressier than his friend's, but now they were wrinkled after their long travel and scorched by his encounter with the flame-throwing monster. His pants were tailored for his short legs and instead of a shirt he wore a vest which allowed his arms and wings freedom of movement. Neither wore shoes, of course.

Sybille let them tell their story about why they had left Hinterland without interrupting them but when they finished it was obvious they had left something out – some awkward personal details, no doubt. Graice signaled to Sybille 'it's nothing important, don't ask more'. The Madrére frowned and flashed back 'I can read very well, youngling, so I already realize that' before turning back to Rafe and Belo.

"The description of your 'politics trouble' back home concerns me," she told them. "No good citizens of any kind should ever be forced to leave just because they want to remain peaceful."

"Jus' ain't fair," grumbled Rafe.

"Not fair at all," agreed Belo.

"I know someone who should hear what you've told me and it's likely that he can help you," said Sybille. "Are you willing to travel with us to Lucidus?"

"But tat's a man-city," Belo objected.

"With walls and buildin's. A guy could get all trapped and feelin' bad in that kinda place, see?" said Rafe. Both guys scuffed their feet and looked down and Rafe scratched himself on the ribs and hip.

"Yes, I understand. You'll probably be uncomfortable around so many men and women, but Euclind Eudoxio often has visitors from Hinterland so you won't be as out of place as you expect," Sybille assured them.

"We've heard of tat name," Belo told Sybille. To Rafe, he added, "Maybe we should go meet tis guy."

"But how we gonna get there?" Rafe asked Sybille. "I can run all day but Belo's gotta get under shelter in a few minutes."

"We'll ask Holder. Traveling is his department."

"Yeah, uh, sounds nice but we gotta think about eatin' too. Me and Belo need to find a place in the hills where the huntin's good. Ain't gonna eat none of that yucky-yucky spoilded meat again. No, no, no."

"He doesn't like salt," Belo explained.

"Holder may have an idea about food as well; he's very resourceful," said Graice, and she called him over.

When he learned the situation, Holder said, "You'll probably be able to find game when we leave here but after we leave the hills, few hunting opportunities will exist. There are a lot of farms in the Fallal Valley, however, and I'm sure someone will have a pig or a few chickens they could spare." At first Graice though he meant they should steal animals (a suggestion which would have offended both guys, although Rafe might have stolen if he got hungry enough, and Belo could feed from livestock without anyone knowing) but the Sistére was mistaken.

Sheepishly, Rafe said, "We had ta run away quick. Didn't have time ta grab our money."

Belo finished the thought, "So we can't buy dinner like we would back home."

Graice had an amusing thought about the two of them walking up to a farmhouse after dark with money in hand. She said, "I think we can afford to pay for a few meals. Don't you agree, Mother?"

As Holder and the others loaded the wagon, Graice pulled Sybille to one side and spoke softly to her. "I need to tell you what Holder said after he was injured."

"I thought I heard him speak to you. Why didn't you tell me about it last night?"

"Because you were so . . . oh, never mind. Keep your voice down so our friends can't hear and just listen." Graice's tone was harsher than Sybille expected. The Madrére didn't speak but she did nod her head and Graice described what had happened.

"Well, it's no surprise he mentioned a white wall," Sybille said when the Sistére finished. "Was he delirious?"

"He knew he was talking to me and not someone else."

"So when he said dress, he probably meant your white robe and just misspoke."

"Then why did he say 'her' dress?" Graice replied. "No, he was speaking to me but he was seeing someone else in his mind – a woman in a white dress standing before the walls of Abbelôn. This means he's remembered something, a small fragment anyway, without my help, and now I have a clue about what to look for the next time I induce a dream for him. That needs to happen when we reach Lucidus." Sybille wanted to ask more but she saw Ignacio approaching with their breakfast.

By noon, Holder had coaxed Rafe to sit on the wagon bench next to Ignacio rather than continuing to walk alongside. Despite the tight squeeze and the jostling of the wagon, both the lupun and Ignacio had managed to fall asleep. Holder smiled when he glanced at them and saw the older man's head resting on Rafe's shoulder.

No one had gotten enough sleep during the night but Graice was still awake inside the wagon. She reclined while listening to Sybille's rather un-ladylike snores and watching Belo as he hung upside down. The kiropteran had climbed the wooden frame which supported the canvas cover and grasped one of the crossbars with his feet. With his wings wrapped around him to cover his head and arms, he swayed like a pendulum with the wagon's movement. Fortunately for Belo as well as everyone else, the wagon wheels were hitting fewer bumps and ruts than before. The path smoothed as they went downhill until it resembled an actual road again – just a back-country lane to be sure, but Holder was still able to prod the waybeasts into increasing their speed.

Even so, they camped for four more nights before the trail wound its way between the last of the tree-covered hills and the wagon emerged onto the level grassland of the Fallal Valley late on their fifteenth day of travel. Belo sat in the back of the wagon talking to the women while Rafe had returned to jogging along beside it.

"We'll stop for the night soon and we should reach Lucidus in three or four days," Holder told them all but suddenly four horsemen appeared in the distance. As they came closer, Holder climbed down and stood in front of the wagon. Unlike Rafe who inhaled deeply, Ignacio held his breath until Holder turned back and gave an 'okay' signal. Rafe seemed equally content with the scent from the riders. When the men reached the wagon, the leader introduced himself.

"My name is Walerian and these men are Beredei, Wicasa, and Filon. We're scouts from Lucidus. Our Mayórę sent us to help travelers coming out of the hills. By any chance are there women with you?"

Holder hesitated to answer but Sybille's voice came from inside the wagon. "Yes, two of us. We're coming out to talk to you."

"We also have a kiropteran friend inside who would prefer to wait until the sun is lower before exposing himself," Holder said as they waited.

"You mean a sanguinan? And a lupun too," Walerian said as he glanced at Rafe. "Our Mayórę, the Wise One, will welcome a chance to speak to both of them. I hear he has some news of Hinterland." Before Rafe could ask anything, however, Sybille and Graice stepped from behind the wagon. Walerian responded as soon as he saw them. Turning to one of his men, he said, "Filon, go fetch the carriage," and the rider galloped away. To Sybille and Graice he said, "We have special orders concerning women of your description. We'll get you to Lucidus much faster than this wagon possibly could."
CHAPTER 31

Caelia § 5

Hard times make hard people, as the old saying goes, and bad times make bad people. Folks who lived in the cisalpine area of Amicitia had seen times both hard and bad ever since the fall of Abbelôn. Not nearly as cruel as the fate of those who lived across the mountains, certainly not, but harsh enough. For more than a decade, few travelers had come north of the Veridis Hills or east of the forest, and none at all came far enough to see where the High Road entered Amity Pass through the mountain range. Villages and towns which had once prospered along the route became impoverished and many people in the region moved away to the west or south. Most who stayed in their old homes remained decent citizens but a few proved the veracity of the old saying.

Three such men concealed themselves under the branches of a tree on the northern edge of the forest and stared outward. One had an ugly scar disfiguring the left side of his face while a second was tall and thin. The third was younger than the others, perhaps only twenty or twenty-one. The question of whether or not they might have lived respectable lives during better times was debatable. After years with little money, these three were ready to steal from anyone they met. As they watched, a group of four ox-drawn wagons approached from the northeast.

"That's the second bunch of wagons we've seen today," the one with the scarred face said to his partners. "Wonder where they're going?"

"Doesn't matter," snapped the tall one. "Only thing that counts is whether they got something worth taking."

"Don't look like there's much in those wagons," replied scar-face.

"They got to have something. We should go find out what."

"There's four men altogether on those wagons and only three of us. Four women and two kids too."

"You afraid of a fight? Did you forget we got swords and spears?" the tall one replied. What he called spears were just poles with crudely made hammered-iron points attached, and the edges of the swords, which had originally been chopping tools, were worn and pitted.

"I'm just saying it's a lot of trouble for maybe nothing," answered scar-face defensively.

The young bandit, who had remained silent so far, spoke up. "We can always take their women if they don't have anything better. We can sell them."

"I ain't having nothing to do with those Yuzoi bastards again," insisted the scarred one as he rubbed his cheek.

"Don't have to," the tall one assured him. "I know Sarkonians who'll buy them, and they won't tell their bosses what they got either, let alone where they got them." Scar-face wanted to say something else but the young one cut him off.

"What are we waiting on, damn it? Let's get the horses."

Earlier in the day, Caelia had conversed with Matrika about a variety of subjects. The girl understood how a compass worked, for example, and knew they were traveling west. Now that the afternoon was getting late, however, the girl just sat in the back of the wagon and gazed around. Days of riding behind the slow-plodding oxen still had not left her bored. The landscape of the mountains and foothills had fascinated her, and even the gently rolling land she saw now was interesting simply because it was new to her. The expanse of grassland interspersed with patches of brush might seem monotonous to other people but not to Caelia.

Occasionally she would look up at the cloudless sky and Tabari would immediately nag her again about avoiding sunburn. Her wide-brimmed hat was annoying, although not so much as Tabari's constant watching, but she knew that wearing it was doubly important for her. Dagan and Matrika both had darker hair than average. Matrika's was nearly black, in fact, and her skin looked tan even without sunshine so pretending to be their daughter required keeping her hair hidden, especially since sunlight made it look brighter than it did in the light of the caverns. Caelia didn't much like the loose-fitting dress she wore either. It may have been the style worn in the countryside of northern Amicitia but it was impractical compared to her usual tunic and pants. Still, she understood the necessity of blending in and did not complain, not even about wearing long sleeves in the afternoon heat.

The weather was dry and the oxen kicked up considerable dust as they plodded along. Each team stirred up progressively more of the dry dirt so that the people riding in the last wagon suffered the worst of it, and Dagan did what he could to equalize the discomfort. Periodically, the wagons changed position in line so everyone had a turn up front. At present, Dagan was in the wagon at the rear along with his wife, son, and Caelia. Tomas and his wife Mena, both tekniks, drove the lead wagon followed by Franco and Lindella, fabers who weren't officially married but considered themselves a couple anyway. Anginears Reikard and Brunelda were third in line.

Their bags of merchandize and camping gear took up only part of the space in the wagon, which was made to bring back bulkier loads than they took away, so Caelia had room to get comfortable. She leaned against the tailgate and stretched her legs out in front of her. Tabari sat cross-legged in the middle of the wagon bed and tried not to get caught staring at her. The fact that her skirt was hemmed just below the knees had not escaped his attention, and when Caelia saw him glancing at her lower legs she snapped her fingers. He looked up and she pointed at his eyes and her knees and then shook her finger in a gesture that obviously meant no. Then she nodded towards the backs of his parents who sat on the front bench of the wagon. The boy understood her meaning clearly; she was threatening to tell his mother and father. Alarmed, Tabari shook his head rapidly with a pleading expression on his face.

Although she didn't turn around, Matrika heard the finger snap and something about the ensuing silence aroused her maternal instincts. Without looking back, she asked, "Is everything all right back there?"

"Oh, yes," Caelia assured her. "Tabari and I are just enjoying looking at the scenery." The way she said the word scenery made the boy blush. Speaking to Tabari, Caelia said, "You're lucky you get to go out to the gardens all the time, brother. I wish I could stay outside as much as you do." This time she stressed the word brother.

"You two do make a good brother-sister team even if you don't look that much alike," commented Matrika as she turned in her seat so she could see the two kids. Relieved that Caelia had not explained what she meant by scenery, Tabari spoke up.

"I like having Caelia as my sister," he said to his mother while watching the girl.

The smile Caelia gave him was genuine in one sense of that word. While her lips curled up, her eyes flashed a genuinely serious expression to Tabari. Having made her point, she turned to observe the trees on the left side of the wagon again. She had watched with interest as the wagons drew closer to the forest and now they were riding parallel to the edge of the woods. When the little convoy stopped for the evening later, she wanted to enter the forest on foot for a better view.

Matrika saw where the girl was looking and asked, "What's the difference between these trees and the ones around our gates, Caelia?"

"Several things. These aren't quite as tall but their branches spread out much wider. The trunks of firs are straighter than most of these but the diameters of both seem similar in size. Most of all, these have broad leaves instead of needles." From her studies, Caelia knew a great deal about things she had never actually seen before.

"Is there a word used to classify this . . .?" Matrika started to ask.

"Deciduous," Caelia answered before the question was finished. "These leaves will fall off before winter and grow again in the spring, unlike evergreen needles."

"Very good," commended Matrika which made Tabari bristle.

"I knew that too," he insisted, even though he didn't.

"He really does know," Caelia said. "You should've asked him first." Tabari didn't know how to respond. Her first comment seemed supportive but the second part contained hidden sarcasm. What would he have done if his mother had asked him first? The girl continued talking to Matrika. "I didn't know you were a teacher."

"I'm not but your father asked me to make sure you observe and learn as much about the world as you can."

"It figures he'd say that. Dad's sweet but he's got his head in a fog if he thinks I wouldn't pay attention out here."

"Your mother knew you would."

Then the girl heard noise behind them and turned around.

"Look out!" she cried. Dashing toward them were animals that Caelia knew about but had never seen – three horses with men riding on their backs.

By the time the bandits had retrieved and mounted their horses, they were almost too late. When they emerged from the cover of the forest, the wagons were already well ahead of them. The horses were faster than oxen, of course, but the people onboard the last wagon saw them coming and had time to halt and prepare while the bandits approached. The bandits saw the man in the wagon pull the reins as he shouted something to the other drivers. Then he and his woman jumped down from the bench and pulled long wooden staves from the side of the wagon. From the way the two held the staves, it seemed that they knew how to defend themselves. Not recognizing Pàçians, the outlaws didn't know that Dagan and Matrika would do nothing more than poke and prod to keep the men away. Two kids were in the back of the wagon, and the boy picked up some odd looking thing and held it in his right hand while he pumped his left fist back and forth rapidly.

With their home-made spears leveled, the tall bandit and his scar-faced partner charged at Dagan and Matrika – or at least as far as their horses would take them. Having been bred and trained to pull plows rather than carry rag-tag brigands, the animals stopped short before their riders closed within a spear-length of their targets. Both men waved the spears as menacingly as they could and shouted, "Give us everything you've got!"

Then they realized the girl was standing in the bed of the wagon and staring at them. A wave of doubt and confusion washed over them. What were they doing? Why did they feel guilty?

Suddenly, an odd popping-puffing noise came from the wagon and the tall bandit screamed in pain as a dart penetrated his thigh. The scarred one looked and saw the boy fumbling to put another dart into the gadget he held. The outlaw urged his reluctant horse closer and tried to reach the kid with his spear. Tabari did not have time to pump up the air-darter again so he threw it. It hit the horse on the shoulder causing the animal to buck and back away. As his mount moved, scar-face saw six people from the wagons in front running back to help their fellows. More importantly, he looked back at the girl. He realized he didn't want to hurt her. He didn't want to hurt anyone but he couldn't understand why not. After a moment, he found his voice.

"This is no good! Let's get out of here!" the bandit shouted and he spurred his horse to leave.

"Damn it, we got to get something!" screamed the tall one as he clutched the shaft protruding from his leg, but his horse turned to run away also.

The third bandit had managed to stay unnoticed as he circled to the other side of the wagon. No one, including Caelia, saw him uncoil his rope until he threw a loop over the girl from behind. He jerked the rope and pulled Caelia over the side of the wagon. She hit the ground hard enough to stun her and she was only vaguely aware of being pulled up and thrown face down across the horse. Voices calling "Stop! Stop!" and "Caelia!" diminished behind her as the horse ran.

Dagan and Matrika ran after the girl but they were soon passed by the younger Tomas and Franco. "We can run faster than you," Tomas cried. "We'll chase them until you catch up."

It was dark when Caelia woke. She lay still and listened to the bandits argue among themselves around a campfire. The one hit by the air-darter was groaning and demanding another drink from a jug.

"Give me some more whiskey," he shouted. "It still hurts."

"Quit whining," snapped a younger voice. "It wasn't even a real arrow that hit you, just some kid's toy."

"Didn't you see how deep it went in?" demanded the first voice. "I need something more for the pain, I tell you."

"Ah, here. Take the damn jug and get so drunk you pass out," said a third voice. "I'm tired of hearing you complain."

"Go ahead, you old fool," said the younger voice. "I'm tired of your noise too." A scuffling noise was followed by a cork popping and gurgling sounds, and then several minutes of silence ensued.

Caelia decided to open her eyelids just enough to get a peek around her. She was lying on her side with one of the men sitting between her and the campfire but nothing else was visible without turning her head, something she wasn't ready to do. Her wrists were bound with leather strips and one end of a rope was tied around her ankle. The other end was held by the bandit she could see. Caelia had seen two of their faces earlier but didn't recognize this one. Obviously, he must be the one who had snuck up from behind. The wounded man and the scar-faced bandit were somewhere on the other side of the fire. As she closed her eyes again, the man nearest her spoke and she recognized the younger voice.

"You were no help today. You ran as soon as you could."

"I didn't run," the scarred man said defensively. "There was nothing we could do."

"I did something. Now I'm going to sell the girl and keep the money. You and your drunken partner don't deserve a share."

"He's not my partner, and . . .," but whatever else the man meant to say never came out. After a long silent moment of palpable tension, Caelia heard the man across the fire stand up and say, "I don't have to listen to your insults. I'm leaving."

"Fine with me."

The girl listened carefully and realized that the man really was leaving. He took one of the horses and rode away. Caelia comprehended the situation clearly. One brigand was gone and another was drunk, leaving only one to evade. Admittedly, he held the rope which bound her ankle but all she had to do was stay awake longer than him! Staying awake wasn't so easy, however. Caelia was still dizzy from her fall, and despite her tension, a feeling of lassitude spread as the adrenaline which had rushed through her body earlier wore off. She closed her eyes (just so her captor wouldn't see she was awake, she thought to herself) and after what seemed like only a few moments she opened them to see early morning light.

She held her breath until she recognized that the young bandit was asleep. Loud snores came from across the campfire so Caelia also knew that the other remaining bandit was still drunk. Focusing on her immediate problem, she peeked enough to see her captor laying on his side with his back to her and she noticed that the rope was draped over his body with the end out of her sight. Creeping as softly as she could, she moved toward him to get the rope loose. She crawled closer and gently pulled it away from him. Suddenly he yawned and mumbled something. When she saw his eyes blinking open, Caelia's mind focused on only one fervent thought: 'Stay asleep – stay asleep!'

Had anyone seen what happened next, they would have noticed just a girl standing beside a reclining man. Only a Sistére or Madrére could have perceived Caelia's flaring Aura or measured the girl's strength as the man's eyes closed. The outlaw stopped stirring and lay still. His breathing changed to something different from either the sonorous respiration of sleep or the normal inhalations of someone awake. So soft did his breathing become that she had to watch his chest closely to make certain he was alive. Grabbing at the rope, she snatched it up as best she could so it wouldn't drag behind her and ran away from him.

An hour after dawn, Tomas and Franco found the bandits' camping place. They found two men lying on the ground, but the third bandit and Caelia were nowhere in sight.

"This guy is the one Tabari shot with the darter," Franco said as he looked the man over. "He's stinking drunk."

"This one is completely unconscious, not just asleep," Tomas said about the other man. "I don't see any wounds, but the missing bandit must have knocked this guy out somehow and taken Caelia away. How are we going to tell Dagan and Matrika she's gone?"

"How are we going to tell Escol and Binah? And everyone else back home, for that matter."

Despondent, they began shouting, "Caelia! Where are you?" but they heard no reply.

When the sun came up Caelia moved faster and eventually she lost track of how long she had run and had no idea where she was. She heard voices in the distance and feared that other villains had arrived to chase her; when she heard them again, she was certain of it. She couldn't make out what they were saying but it could not be anything good so she ran faster.

Finally, fatigue and an urgent need to relieve herself forced her to stop. Then she crawled under some dense bushes and tried to get her bindings loose. She managed to slide the rope over her foot and off the ankle but gnawing at the leather strips around her wrists did not free her hands. Unwilling to remain defenseless, she looked around until she found a stout stick the right length to be swung with a two-handed grip. More gnawing loosened the straps just enough to allow some circulation to her hands. They began to tingle and then to sting painfully but soon she was able to hold and swing her new club.

Suddenly she heard hoof beats and her heart pounded. Lying flat, she peered out from under the bottom of the bushes and saw the lower legs of a horse coming closer. The animal stopped in front of Caelia and turned to face her hiding place. Then its rider dismounted. She could see his legs but not his body.

Refusing to be captured lying down, Caelia stood up and pushed forward through the bushes.
CHAPTER 32

The Boy § 5

The boy looked back through the dimming twilight to see that his aunt was ten lengths behind now. His horse still ran strong, but her gelding was failing and struggled to keep moving. The gelding's end would come soon but it had a good heart and did its best to follow the powerful mare. The woman's eyes met his and some wordless message passed between them. Don't wait for me, she had said earlier, but she hadn't finished talking. Something else had to be said and he knew what it was.

His aunt raised an arm to point ahead of them and he turned to face forward. The trail approached the edge of a canyon and he could hear the roar of rushing water from below. He saw what the woman meant. A narrow bridge crossed the chasm, a span only wide enough for one to pass at a time. Moments later, the hooves of his horse pounded thunderously over the plank flooring of the bridge and he reined the mare in on the other side. When his aunt reached the bridge, however, her horse's feet made different sounds as the poor animal stumbled and staggered across. The beast gasped for breath as the woman stopped by the boy's side.

"They're not far behind," she said.

"Could you tell how many are following?"

"Seven or eight Sarkonians and one Yuzoi, I think. But don't interrupt. There isn't much time and I want you to hear the true names of you and your parents from me and not just from the letter I gave you." Despite her words, she hesitated a moment as she looked at him. "Let me hug you once last time, nephew, if that's possible on horseback." It was awkward but they managed to get some portions of their arms around each other without falling from their saddles.

"Listen," she said and she whispered into his ear. Releasing the hug, they both sat upright again. When he heard the words she had spoken, he felt like he had known everything all along. Memories of his mother saying his name in dreams were now clear in his mind and at last he understood who his parents had been.

"And your name, my aunt?" he asked.

"I am Andéra. Please remember me."

"I will always."

"Keep our names secret for a while longer. For now, call yourself whatever you must from necessity but you will speak your name loudly one day and everyone will recognize you. I'm certain of it. Now hear me; I can only say this once."

He nodded and she continued quickly.

"Great things would be expected from any scion of your parents' family lines, but you were special from the beginning. You can't take credit for that, nephew, it came with your birth. That's something everyone knew then. Anyone who saw your tiny face believed truly that you would be worthy of your inheritance and that you would be just as good as we imagined. Are you understanding what I'm saying, dear boy?"

He nodded his head to answer. His aunt looked back the way they had come and listened carefully.

"I think I hear something," she said and she dismounted and drew her sword. As she stepped onto the bridge, she told him, "It's time for you to do what you promised, my love. I know your heart tells you to stay by my side but your mind knows why you must go."

"I understand." His voice was tight now but he spoke clearly. His heart pounded and he could almost hear the blood rushing through his veins. Tension and worry showed on his face but he was not forlorn or fearful. He really did understand now.

"I can hold them here for a while. Even on foot I can cause them plenty of trouble," his aunt said as she looked across the narrow bridge. Then she turned back to the boy. "I can't tell you where to go anymore but the Hartgan Forest is due north from here. I don't think you should stay on the trail much longer. Look for a place where you can go cross-country. After that, remember what I've taught you and make your own decisions. Everything we have that might help you is in the saddlebags."

Suddenly they heard hoof beats and rattling noises and the boy gasped. His aunt's voice was louder and filled with emotion when she spoke this time.

"In a few minutes you will be the last heir of our family and you have already been chosen. You must survive and become who you were meant to be. The fate of the world depends on it! Go NOW!"

"I love you," he said as he turned and spurred the horse. He raced away without looking back. He leaned forward in the saddle as the horse reached its full stride and spoke into the mare's ear.

"Run, Glori! Run and never stop!"

*****

The Story continues in:

Return of the High Protector: Part II of The High Duties of Pàçia

And concludes in Part III:

And the Young Shall Lead You Home

Link to all:

https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/bobcraton

Reviews of Part II from customers:

Vanna Smythe rated it

Shelves: fantasy

I read the first part of this series late last year, and picked up the second book as soon as I had some free time. It was great to spend time with Gracie and Holder, and the rest again. All I can say is: "Awesome!" The first book does a great job of laying the scene, and this book, the sequel, is much more fast paced. I enjoyed learning how all the different point of view characters (all of whom are extremely well characterized, and really come off the page and seem like real people) come together to pursue the common goal. I won't give that away, since I hate spoilers.

Apart from the great characterization and the complicated plot, which will keep you guessing and make it hard to put the book down, the fantasy world Bob Craton created is vividly and beautifully rendered. I could really picture all the scenes, places, ... which to me is very important. None of the descriptions drag either, which is equally important. I was very impressed by the author's ability to find that perfect balance when describing something and not overdoing it.

In conclusion, let me just say that Part 2 of The High Duties of Pacia series kept me reading well past my reasonable bedtime, but it was all worth it! The second book in a trilogy is usually not as enjoyable to read as the first and third, which is not the case with this book at all. If anything, this book is even more action-packed and more tightly written than Book 1. This is, however, not a fantasy series that you can read out of order.

As for me, I'm getting the final book now, since I can't wait to learn how the story ends.

**Review by:** Richard Dodds:             
A brilliant book that expertly creates a rich fantasy world. Unputdownable.

Review by: M Mancey on May 29, 2013 :             
The mystery and intrigue continues as the story delves deeper into the secrets of an old and advanced civilization. A darker force emerges, spelling a greater threat, with a magic dark and twisted but compelling. The various cities come under attack as it rises. My favorite characters Gracie and Holder, and the boy and the girl are on the road surrounded by peril and heading for distant destinations.

The book is hard to put down with so much at stake. Every chapter is full of intrigue and action even as war brews. It continues in a rich, gripping and complex tale with multiple characters and told from several view points. The amount of thought and planning by the writer becomes even more apparent. I particularly admire how the author very subtly creates a beautiful and thought-provoking legacy of a people long past.

I wouldn't give too much away but there is also an element of satisfaction where the long lost are reunited and a few of the old mysteries are solved. Even so, it ends in a cliff hanger as as the evil Zafiri responsible for the demise of the former civilization seek to wreak more destruction. I look forward to the next book where hopefully these wonderful and gifted people, who were so wronged, can have their legacy restored.

5.0 out of 5 stars **Excellent Story**

By: Supernatural65 Format:Kindle Edition

The thrilling sequel to Journey to light kept me entertained to all hours of the night. I honestly thought it was better than the first one. I had been rather vague with my review of the first book because I needed to read more of the story to get a better picture. The second book captured my attention with an amazing storyline, and an impressively written plot.

This series has a beautifully rendered plot that really holds a readers attention; although the plot was extremely complicated I still enjoyed it. Great plot, excellent dialogue, and the story obviously had a lot of thought put into it.

The second book left me dying to read the third book: And the Young Shall Lead You Home. I would suggest that anyone looking for a good read should read this series.

Also by this author:

Jesika's Angel

A Princess of Faë

Both available on Smashwords

* * *

Note Regarding Language in the World of Pàçia:

Although the Anziên era of history ended 3,500 years ago, a handful of words from the language of that time remain in use. In this text, actual words from the Anziên language are written in italics for clarity, although names derived from such words are not. Avoid misinterpreting words just because they have similar spellings. The word Anziên itself is very different from the generic common word 'ancient.' (An accurate translation of ancient would be úralt, which just means very old.) The Anziên word 'effect' is also not the same as the current word with the same spelling. Similarly, the second part of the name Annâles-Scientia means 'all knowledge' and not just 'science.'

Geographical Note

The Concordia Comitas is a loose (very loose) coalition created by treaty among the cities in the land East of the Sea. It is an agreement not an organization. The terms provide for friendship, mutual support, and fair trade.

The Urbs-Magnia or Great Cities are Matik, Riviarre, and Niazport. With huge populations, these three dominate the entire land both politically and commercially.

Urbs-Ordinâre: Dozens of these smaller cities are scattered across the land along with hundreds of towns and thousands of villages. Abbelôn, although similar in size to these modest cities, has never been thought of as one of the Ordinâre.

Regions: These (Amicitia, Hinterland, Corager, Westania, etc.) are merely geographical areas shown on a map, not countries. The only governments are those of the cities and towns, or local counties, which in theory abide by the terms of the Concordia Comitas. Kêltikæ, the beautiful but poverty-stricken island off the coast of Westania, is considered a small region of its own.

Žhìn is a far distant land West of the Sea. For many centuries, the people of Žhìn were completely separated and out of touch with those East of the Sea. A route across the Sea was discovered by Žhìnian sailors only twelve years before the story begins.

