An Ocean without Charts

The Wayfarers - Book Six

Jonathan Edward Feinstein

No part of this publication may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Megafilk Press, Jonathan E. Feinstein, 923 Drift Road, Westport, MA 02790

Cover art: View of Ritidian Beach through trees on Guam National Park, a public domain, royalty-free stock photograph by Beauregard Laura, U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service.

Author’s Foreword

Has it really been four years since I released A Continent without Form? I was not intentionally avoiding this series, but other things came up, most of which were family related and my writing time got reduced from five new novels each year to one to three. I was intent on finishing the third and final Maiyim series so something had to get back-burnered and because I chose to write the lighter fare of A Plethora of Deities, I had to put my Wayfarers aside far longer than I had intended.

It would not be fair to say I shelved the series entirely in that time. I did take the time to reformat the Kindle versions of those stories and along the way I reread and made some corrections to the stories (typos only, no need to go back and reread for new content) and that is probably why it does not feel as though I left this for so long.

I almost feel I ought to write a series recap at this point, but I think I covered everything needed in the text itself. Writing this latest book and this series as a whole has been a learning experience for me. Admittedly, every story I have written has been a learning experience, but this one brought me into entirely new territory. I thought I knew quite a bit about the Eighteenth Century but as I wrote and had to look up various details, such as court procedures in Colonial America or colloquialisms that would not seem completely silly and unintelligible to anyone without a degree in historical linguistics.

I also had to revise my own thoughts as to the chronology of the period. It is one thing to know that some things happened in the Eighteenth Century, but it is quite another to get the order right and as to when during that century they happened. Also, along the way I learned that one of the basic reasons the American Revolution took place at all goes back to manner in which the first colonies were founded. It was something I should have known but the whole “Taxation without representation” things is something that gets stressed in school while the truly formative events such as King Philip’s War and the even earlier wars between colonists and the indigenous population (eg The Powhatan Wars, the Pequot War, the Dutch-Indian War and the Beaver Wars) are left largely ignored unless you live in an area that was affected at the time.

Since the world I have devised is not actually the one we live in I could take liberties, and several times I have, but for the most part I have tried not to. I chose a year in the middle of the Eighteenth Century and plotted stories set in a world filled with parallels to the notable events of the time. So far, however, my characters have only been in places analogous to where, in the real world, historically note-worthy events were happening. That was not intentional, or maybe it was. I had ideas for the stories and where I wanted them to happen, but most of the time “big history” was happening somewhere else.

The first exception was back in the third volume; A Nation without Maps when my protagonist, Raff Cawlens, was appointed to preside over a trial analogous to the one that followed the Boston Massacre. The second takes place in this book although I intentionally changed the situation leading up to that event.

Anyway, this story continues the arc that began in A Country without Unity and continued in A Continent without Form. Most of my books are complete stories, but this one of the few exceptions. I dislike stories that go nowhere from the front cover to the back, leaving one wondering if anything happened at all, so I hope I have managed to include enough significant action to make this worth reading and I have told several side stories along the way so even though the main plot continues on beyond this book, I took the time to tell smaller stories along the way. I promise this will all get tied up in the next volume.

Jonathan E. Feinstein
Westport, MA
January 1, 2015

Prologue - Yakrut

Humans frequently called them the “Fair Folk,” or “Wild Men” although their skin colors varied as greatly as humans’ did and they were every bit as civilized as humans were. They called themselves the Kenlienta, or simply the Ken and they lived in the Wild areas between the Stabilities caused by human habitations. The Ken could not tolerate the conditions found in a stability unless they had been trained in the magic of their Elders. Humans on the other hand, could not long survive in the Wild areas between their Stabilities unless they had the trained ability of a Wayfarer.

The Wayfarers were those few humans capable of navigating and conducting others through the Wild, where the laws of nature seemed sometimes chaotic to those who had not studied them deeply, but in truth the Wild and the Stabilities were two sides of the same coin. One could not truly exist without the other and no Ken could live without some trace of stability within them nor could humans live without just a little bit of Wild energy.

However, if a human spent too much time in the Wild without the presence of a Wayfarer he or she would soon sicken and die. The Ken were even more sensitive to conditions inside a human Stability and could even be harmed by the mere touch of a human who could not control the stable field he or she naturally generated.

Consequently, it was rare for a human to be able to enter a Kenlientan city unremarked but Master Samuel Harton walked through the streets of Yakrut, the Ken’s capital city, almost unnoticed. The Kenlienta and humans were not entirely isolated from each other. The Ancient and Honorable Guild of Wayfarers had long maintained a postal service between humans and Ken. Until recently there had been exceedingly few people of either species who had anything to say to the other, but scientific studies of both Wild and Stability had kindled a bond between the scientists of both. Mail was still not a regular service, but there was enough going both ways that Harton was able to carry a Wayfarer’s mail pouch and walk through the streets of the largest and most active Kenlientan city in the world.

He was even able to stop to ask directions without causing more than polite interest. In any other Ken city, the arrival of a messenger might have caused a sensation, but in Yakrut the novelty had worn off years earlier and he was just another Wayfarer doing his job, or so it appeared.

Navigating one’s way through a Ken city was a challenge even for a resident. The Kenlienta’s love for change was a part of their religion and no Kenlien’s day was complete unless they had made at least one change to their home and place of business.

After several wrong turns and detours around various buildings, remodeling projects and even the repaving of one street with green glazed bricks, Master Harton finally found the door he was looking for. A few minutes later he was sitting in a small garden with Elder Suranax.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to find one’s way though a city where even the streets change daily?” Harton asked Suranax once the initial pleasantries had been performed.

“Change is Life, my friend,” Suranax replied with the usual Kenlientan saying that was both a greeting and a religious statement.

“And Life is Change,” Harton replied automatically, “but does it have to change every time I walk around a block? I get the feeling the whole city of Yakrut will try to follow me when I finally leave.”

Suranax chuckled as though Harton had been making a joke. “There is a knack to it,” he admitted, “but mostly you just keep going in the right direction until you get to your destination. Besides it is not as bad if you live here. The changes happen one at a time, usually. And speaking of changes, what is happening in the human world?”

“You heard about the little tussle between Paknilan and Holrany?” Harton asked.

“That was last year,” Suranax nodded. “Are the Paknilanians allowing the Holrans to hold their stolen Stabilities?”

“At the moment they have more pressing issues,” Harton shrugged. “The Paknilans have not been endearing themselves to any of their neighbors over the centuries and when Holran proved them vulnerable, Yug, Zagran and Tinap all started making similar moves. Paknilan has been negotiating at a rate I would scarcely have credited for them even a year ago. Well, they have to, don’t they? The alternative is to risk becoming another Pernatia, caught between nations far more powerful and serving only as a buffer between them.”

“I hear that Pernatia has managed to hold on to her independence, however,” Suranax commented.

“True enough, at least for now,” Harton admitted. “Kharasia decided that once they had secured their eastern provinces from Corisa, that it would be cheaper to support Pernatia’s independence from Holrany than to reoccupy it militarily, but all the real news continues to come out of Verana, of course.”

“Of course?” Suranax asked.

“You know that Varana is a collection of Grundish colonies, right?” Harton verified. “Argumentatively the most fractious bunch the Green Lands or any other Power has ever had to deal with.”

“So I have heard,” Suranax agreed. “We have a research colony of a sort there. You have heard of Skethit?”

“That is where all these new steam engines are coming from,” Harton nodded.

“I understand there are human engineers building their own now too,” Suranax replied.

“Probably,” Harton allowed. “I have been moving around too much to keep up with the latest scientific news. Until they find a way to drive a cart or a ship with one of these engines, I doubt it will have much effect on my life.”

“Do not be so certain,” Suranax laughed. “Such changes affect us all whether we want to acknowledge them or not, but what is happening in the human parts of Verana?”

“Revolution,” Harton replied, “Or at least parts of it have been declared in revolt. Most notably the Colonies of Bournset Bay and Julia, although the colonies in between are likely to go up in flames anytime. Oh, they sent a petition of good fellowship, a so-called ‘Olive Branch’ to Her Majesty. I think they forgot she prefers her olives pickled in brine. She refused to see their representatives at all. According to the news that followed me, she saw the petition as an attempt to dictate how she should rule her colonies. I imagine the colonists would say it was a polite request. Last I heard the United Colonies of Varana… Ha! There’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one. The United Colonies are meeting in what they call their Continental Congress and debating over whether they will declare their own independence.”

“Will they, do you think?”

“Hard to say,” Harton shrugged. “I never did understand the Varanans. They haven’t got a chance if they do, though. The Grundish Army is the strongest and best in the human world. The best the Varanans have are a few veterans of the war with Crace a few years ago and they were mostly just auxiliaries to His Majesty’s Army. Meanwhile, the younger Mister Winn is whipping up the Parliament on behalf of his father the Prime Minister to declare all Varana in rebellion. I am not really sure why, since supposedly they are Her Majesty’s colonies, not those of Parliament, but of course Parliament is made up of politicians and that sort will grab any power they can.”

“You mean like the politicians in your own Guild of Wayfarers’ Council?” Suranax asked slyly.

“It’s the Congress of Wayfarers now,” Harton replied. “Self-proclaimed Guildmaster Cawlens abolished the old Guild Council you know.”

“I was there,” Suranax nodded, “but I understand the Congress of Wayfarers confirmed Raufanax’s standing as Guildmaster.”

“Of course they would,” Harton scoffed. “They’re all his creatures anyway.” It was not a fair characterization. In fact, Raff Cawlens had been careful only to pack his new Congress with honest men and women whose main concern was to serve the Guild to the best of their abilities. Debates in the Congress were frequently more spirited than any in the old Council and also far more complex with far more than two factions arguing over every issue. In fact, the newer Congress’s factions were almost Kenlientan in nature, constantly changing, dependent on the issue at hand, but the Congress was concerned with more than just the Guild of Wayfarers. It considered the world as a whole, bearing in mind even the nations in which it was not allowed to function as a guild. Even the Ken Nation, considered a world apart by most humans, was considered as a part of the whole by the Guild.

“I understand Her Grundish Majesty rules in Salasia now too?” Suranax half asked.

“Not quite,” Harton shook his head, “although she may as well. The Maharajah of Salasia made a big mistake when he tried to annex Makret and the Honorable Salasia Company moved its own private army out of the two trading colonies there and took over the country altogether. That is where I am headed next, in fact. Now that Green Landsmen control the country we are establishing Guild offices in every city.”

“Isn’t there a Wayfarer Caste in Salasia already?” Suranax asked.

“There is,” Harton nodded, “I forget what they call themselves, but they rank just below the born nobility under the old system. Now they can join the Guild or work as independents, but the common people despise them, so if they don’t join us, I doubt they’ll have much to do unless they decide to take up an honest trade. No one is born into the Wayfarer Caste, so in a generation we’ll be the only organized Wayfarers in Salasia.”

“Are you going to visit the moving city too?” Suranax asked.

“Senopolis?”

“I believe that is the name,” Suranax nodded. “We have had to move four Ken settlements out of its way since its reappearance. That’s not your fault or theirs, I know. It just is.”

“I’m not even sure where it is at the moment,” Harton admitted.

“It is crossing western Makret and headed in a southwesterly direction at the moment. It should be in northern Salasia in a few months,” Suranax told him. “I understand scientists of both our peoples estimate it will be turning more westerly after that. I am not sure how they have determined that. It probably has something to do with the flow of the Wild.”

“Probably,” Harton shrugged yet again. “No, I was not planning to go there. There are too many of Cawlens’ friends visiting there every year and I do not care to deal with them. No, my business will be to see that some of my people get master postings in Salasia. Before I leave, I’d like to discuss business with you, Gentax and Durinia. Tomorrow morning, perhaps?”

“I’m so sorry,” Suranax responded, “but Gentax and Durinia are out of town at the moment. We do have to return to our own cities from time to time, you know, but they are not too far away. We could probably have them here in a week.”

“Too long,” Harton shook his head. “I’ll have to come back when I am done in Salasia. Too much depends on getting everything set up in advance.”

“Advance of what?” Suranax asked.

“Tell me,” Harton requested in what seemed a change of subject. “How is your own campaign to discredit Elder Leraxa proceeding?”

“She still has the support of your Guildmaster, Raufanax,” Suranax replied, “and so long as she does she will continue to remain the Chief Elder of the Ken Nation.”

“It’s a shame you cannot just arrange to have her killed,” Harton grumbled. “Anyone can have a ‘little accident,’ you know?”

“Assassination is not our way,” Suranax replied sternly. “It is an abomination to the Divine Family.”

“Well, it wasn’t a serious suggestion,” Harton verbally backed off quickly. “You have to admit that if it were not so reprehensible, it would make the matter easier to resolve.”

“It would,” Suranax admitted as though humoring a guest for the sake of courtesy only, “but I fear nothing that is worth striving for is going to be that easy.”

“Is that a Kenlienta axiom?” Harton asked curiously.

“I thought it was a Grundish one,” Suranax chuckled, “but perhaps I should be asking you about your plans to supplant Raufanax as Guildmaster.”

“My plans proceed,” Harton replied. “That is why I came to meet with you and your colleagues. Timing is everything, you know and I wanted you ready to move at just the right time. You have correctly stated that Elder Leraxa continues to hold her position thanks to the support of Raff Cawlens, but Cawlens’ position becomes increasingly vulnerable the longer he is absent from Taundon and the last I heard he was headed for Lorendo on the other side of the world from here. At this moment he is as far from being able to assist Leraxa as he ever will be.”

“Perhaps,” Suranax allowed, “but all Kenlienta knows he supports Leraxa. His physical location does not matter unless he should prove unwilling to aid her.”

“But if Cawlens loses control of the Guild his support will be worthless,” Harton pointed out.

“Not worthless,” Suranax shook his head. “He will still be Raufanax, the Bringer of Health. I do not believe you truly understand what that means to everyone in the Ken Nation, even me.”

“Oh, I know that had it not been for him, his wife and their friends there might not be a Ken Nation,” Harton denied.

“But you do not understand how that puts us all eternally in his debt, Mister Harton,” Suranax persisted. “I will no more be a party to his death than I would to that of Leraxa.”

“I do not plan to kill him,” Harton smiled. “I plan to discredit him in the Guild. By the time I am done, no one in his own Congress of Wayfarers will have enough faith in him to trust him to order a round of drinks.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Suranax asked.

“If I told you everything I would be here too long,” Harton smiled. “If I did not care about the Guild, it would be easy, of course, but I am trying to gain mastery of the Wayfarers Guild as my father did before me, not destroy it. Some judicious weakening, though, might cause a bit of harm, but nothing that cannot be mended in time, but it will be impossible for Cawlens to continue creditably as Guildmaster. However, even before he falls, he will be far too busy over the coming months to come to Leraxa’s aid.”

“So when he is distracted we can remove Leraxa as Chief Elder,” Suranax interpreted.

“Yes and when she is no longer in charge,” Harton nodded, “Cawlens will lose any vestige of support in the Guild Congress.”

Samuel Harton went on to discuss the highlights of his plan and two hours later, when Suranax was convinced, he left the house and the city of Yakrut itself, continuing on his was to Salasia.

Harton thought he had managed to get in and out of the Ken capital city unnoticed, but while most Kenlienta saw only the blue uniform of a journeyman Wayfarer, one young Ken woman thought there was something wrong with the way he held himself and the way he tried too hard to go unnoticed. She followed him to the house of Suranax and waited while the man spoke to the elder. Then she carefully followed him to the edge of the city and watched as he continued on out of sight. Finally, the young woman headed back into Yakrut and made her way directly to the home of Leraxa, the Chief Elder.

Leraxa might have lived in a palace. Yakrut, the city of which she was the elder, did have a palace, but Leraxa had never been comfortable sleeping there. Instead, she used the palace as a collection of government offices, which it had been as well. She spent her time when the Council of Elders was not in session in a somewhat more modest domicile, no different than any of the Elders of the Council lived in. It was not a small house, but it was nothing like a palace either. It was more to her tastes, however.

Leraxa was just sitting down to tea in her garden when Faisha arrived. “Faisha,” she greeted the younger woman warmly. “How long have you been back in Yakrut?”

“I arrived today, Elder,” Faisha replied, “and…”

“and how are matters in Therin Kal, dear?” Leraxa interrupted her. Among the Ken it was impolite to not first exchange such pleasantries save in situations of dire emergency.

“All is well, Elder,” Faisha replied politely, “and with you?”

“I am well, thank you,” Leraxa smiled, pouring some tea for her young friend. “And how is Elder Sheronax? I enjoyed our games of chess while he represented your village.”

“He is quite healthy, Elder,” Faisha replied, “and happily doing his day-to-day work in Therin Kal.”

“And you wish you were there too,” Leraxa observed.

“I mean no disrespect, Elder,” Faisha denied.

“Of course not, dear,” Leraxa smiled, “but I know you are not entirely comfortable as the representative from Therin Kal.”

“I represent my friends and family with pride,” Faisha replied, “but I am no elder and I am not happy to have to argue with elders.”

“You are very accomplished, Faisha,” Leraxa told her. “You know more than many who are officially elders. You should not let their status intimidate you.”

“Yes, Elder,” Faisha nodded acceptance, “but you know that we who only represent our elders are not taken as seriously as those who speak for themselves.”

“A good point,” Leraxa allowed, “but we do call it the Council of Elders and it would have been unworkable had we kept all elders here while the government is session, which seems to be most of the time these days. I have to admit that Raufanax was right. He warned me that a permanent government would take on a life of its own and that once started could not easily be stopped. Oh, all right, dear, I see you fidgeting. It must be important.”

“Elder, I saw a human enter and leave Yakrut,” Faisha reported.

“A Wayfarer courier, perhaps?” Leraxa suggested.

“He was dressed as such,” Faisha admitted, “but he was not one of the regular ones and he did not go to the Council Hall to deliver his messages.”

“How unusual,” Leraxa murmured. “A private message, maybe?”

“He visited Elder Suranax,” Faisha told her. “He’s one of the elders who…”

“Yes, dear,” Leraxa held up a hand, “I know who my enemies are, although I might have expected more immediate threats. Still, if the Wayfarer is who I suspect he may be, Elder Suranax would be his most obvious ally.”

“Who is he?” Faisha asked.

“To tell you would be an accusation, dear,” Leraxa replied. The Ken were careful about mentioning names in relation to crimes until there was incontrovertible proof. Leraxa privately wondered if it counted as a crime since this particular man’s indiscertions had not been within the Ken Nation. She quickly decided, “I do not yet know enough.” She laughed then. “My friend, the Gyel, would say that was the start of true wisdom. If so, I have arrived there by the long route. But come, dear and let’s enjoy our tea a while longer. There is much to be done and it may be sometime before we can relax like this once again.

Lorendo and Palendo

One

“El Pueblo del Valle del Humo,” Raff Cawlens mused. “I wonder what they call it for short. El Pueblo? Del Valle?” Raff was tall, nearly six feet in height with dark brown hair of medium length for a man that was just starting to show gray at the temples. When on the road as he was now, he allowed his beard to grow and it too was shot through with gray hairs that had not been there just a few years earlier. He was not a handsome man in the way that some are almost pretty, but he had a rugged look to his face that many would consider distinguished and trustworthy even without knowing him.

He had been looking at the Wild land all around them, noting the flow of the wind and the odd way the light glistened off a strange patch of grass that was surrounding a tall cactus. He adjusted a wide-brimmed hat to cut out some of the glare and then turned toward his wife.

“Del Humo would be my guess,” his wife, Emblem L’Oranne Cawlens replied, “or maybe ‘El Humo.’ It’s the only part of the name that distinguishes it. I wonder why it is the Valley of Smoke, though. Volcanic action, maybe?” Emblem Cawlens was slightly shorter than average but with deep red hear and green eyes that flashed with the red of a fire when she was angry. Both Wayfarers were wearing tough canvas shirts and Raff wore a loose pair of trousers and a vest that afforded him some extra pockets. Emblem wore a similar costume except instead of wearing a man’s trousers she wore a split skirt that was unique to women of the Ancient and Honorable Guild of Wayfarers. When standing or even walking normally it looked almost like a normal ankle-length women’s skirt, but actually it was split into two halves with separate skirt for each leg. It allowed her to ride a horse in the same way a man would and not side-saddle as a lady might.

The two master Wayfarers were resting during their trek northward from Palendo City to El Pueblo del Valle del Humo. A casual observer might not realize that they were in a high speed chase, but while they were changing horses in every major settlement on the way to keep them fresh, the people riding those horses did need a break every now and then. While resting, Emblem had made a small pot of coffee. There was a bit of grit to the coffee as she had been forced to brew it in a normal pot and then let the grounds settle before pouring it into cups. The result was far from perfect, but with some honey it would keep them going until dinner time. She would have preferred it with a bit of cream as well, but Raff was perfectly content to drink his brew unadulterated.

“Now that I did look up,” Raff admitted. “The Valley is a sort of bowl-shaped affair with the open end facing the Bright Ocean. The prevailing winds are usually sea breezes from the west but when the Lower Cracian explorers first arrived it was during the dry season when winds come from on land. These dry winds are warm and while they are blowing, any little stray spark can start a fire amid the local vegetation. I guess the valley was pretty full of smoke when they first saw it.”

“First impressions are the most important,” Em remarked.

“Especially when looking for a name to scribble on a map,” Raff laughed. He finished his coffee and chewed on a few grounds for a moment, and then remarked. “We’re still several days from Smokey Valley and we will not get any closer by just sitting here.”

An hour later they arrived in a small town where a crowd of the local populace seemed to be standing around outside the local post office and Guild of Wayfarers hall. “Now what?” Raff asked out loud.

“They don’t look happy,” Em noted.

“And they especially do not look happy about the Guildhall,” Raff agreed. “Maybe you had better do the asking. You speak their language better than I do.”

“Not that much better,” Em admitted. She had been born in Crace, but having grown up in Orseilles, her native tongue was Upper Cracian, a related but entirely different language from what was spoken here.

She did, however, try to politely ask what the matter was, but when one woman pointed and shouted, “Wayfarers!” the rest of the mob turned on them.

Raff sighed and did something called summoning the Wild. Any Wayfarer could use the Wild energy to do any number of things, according to their training, but that was while in the Wild. Inside a human stability, such as this town, only a master had the strength and concentration it took to do it. With only a slight thought, Raff sent the energy back out and gently put the crowd to sleep and allowed them to slump slowly to the ground.

He had done something similar a few months earlier in the city of Pacidelphia only then he had not been as gentle about it. The Governor’s soldiers, in comparison to these townsfolk, had fallen abruptly where they stood. Most had been bruised and several experienced twisted and sprained limbs. At the time they were trying to fire a cannonball down Raff’s throat and he was not disposed toward charity.

“They’ll only be asleep for a few minutes,” Raff told Em. “Let’s find out what’s been going on.”

Inside the local Guild agent explained, “One of the local women, Francesca Ramirez, caught the eye of the last Wayfarer who came through here. He took her with him when he left. She, uh, did not want to go.”

“We do not tolerate that sort of thing in the Guild. What was his name?” Raff demanded.

“Master Paulo Di Meni,” the agent replied. “I have never seen him here before, but then I have only been an agent for the last two years and I am not a Wayfarer myself, you know. I just run the office.”

“I understand, but that’s a new name to me too,” Raff admitted. “When was he here and what did he look like?”

“He left three days ago,” the agent replied. “Look like? Not tall, but broad in the shoulders. Large boned, you might say with greasy black hair and a full beard.”

“Sounds like Sansom Huile to me,” Emblem opined, “and he was here at approximately the right time.”

“Not to mention that there are no known masters in this region with the name he was using,” Raff pointed out. “After all the halls we have had to straighten out, we should know. I want to know a lot more,” he told the agent. “Do you think the townsfolk will calm down enough to talk to us without trying to stick a pitchfork through our guts?”

“A pitchfork?” the agent asked, confused. None of the townsfolk had been so armed.

“Just an expression,” Raff waved that away. “I imagine most of the men and at least some of the women have guns of one sort or another?”

“Of course,” the agent agreed.

“Well, will they talk first and shoot later?” Raff asked, his voice on edge.

“Hmm? Oh yes,” the agent replied. “They were not actually attacking me. Just demanding answers.”

“They were a tad more menacing from where I stood,” Raff told him. “Very well, they should be starting to wake up. Let’s give it a shot.”

Raff and Em went back outside the hall. There was a narrow porch that afforded them some shade in the heat of the afternoon and from there, Raff addressed the crowd, “My name is Raff Cawlens and I am the Guildmaster of the Guild of Wayfarers. It has come to my attention that a Wayfarer was here recently and kidnapped own of your own. The Guild has never countenanced such behavior and we shall not tolerate it now. I promise to personally look into this and will find the woman, Francesca Ramirez and bring her to safety, but I am going to need your help to do so. Who here is ready to help?”

Naturally, all of the townsfolk stepped forward to volunteer. “No,” Raff smiled, “I will not need to form a gang to go after her, but I will need to know more about her and what happened. Why don’t we find a cool place we can sit and discuss this?”

It turned out the only hall large enough for such a gathering was the local church, but while the priest was in sympathy with their needs, he was unwilling to allow a non-religious gathering to take place within the sanctuary. “It is still quite hot, señor,” he pointed out. “We normally enjoy our siesta at this time. Why not wait until the sun sets and we can hold your meeting in the town square. This is where we most normally celebrate a fiesta and the tables from the church basement will be available to sit at.”

“So long as that is acceptable to the people of the town,” Raff replied. It turned out that so long as they had his word that he would rescue their Francesca and since he would be unable to leave until morning, no one had any objections to putting off their conference until dusk.

What neither Raff nor Em had expected was that food and drink would be served during the meeting as well. In fact, save that there were no musicians playing that evening, one might have thought this was a fiesta. However, while there was hope in the people’s faces as they spoke to Raff and Em, there was no rejoicing. That could only come after Francesca Ramirez’s rescue.

As the evening continued, it turned out there were over a dozen witnesses to the abduction. Di Meni had been obnoxiously pursuing her for most of an afternoon and she had been telling him off the entire time.

Francesca, it turned out, was sixteen years old, the daughter of the local tailor. Her mother had died years earlier, but she helped out around her father’s shop and ran errands. It had been while running errands that Di Meni had first noticed her. She had politely declined his first offer, but grew increasingly angry as he persisted. Finally, he had tried to force her physically to get into his wagon and which point she slapped him and tried to run away. She was seen to collapse after two steps and then the man had loaded her on to the back of the wagon and drove off.

“I can track her down,” Raff told them. “It is possible this Di Meni character knows how to blot out a person’s trail, but I doubt he’ll keep it up for more than a day, if he bothers at all. If I might have something that belongs to Francesca, I will know her trail when I see it.”

Her father brought Raff and Em a pair of Francesca’s shoes an hour later and asked if they would do. “Yes,” Raff nodded. “These have strong traces of her innate stability field. With these on hand we should have no trouble recognizing her trail when we find it. In fact, I think I am going to scout around right now and see what I can find.” He handed one of the shoes to Emblem, bowed politely to the people around him and started off toward the northern edge of the small town, while Em continued to ask questions.

Several people looked, at first, as though they were going to follow him, but instead, they stepped to one side or other and made a path for him. A few moments later he was on his own.

Two

It only took ten minutes to reach the edge of the town’s Stability. It reminded Raff of just what it took to make an area habitable by humans. It mostly took a bunch of humans, assuming you had the natural resources, of course. All humans naturally generated a Stability field around them. Why they did and just what this Stability field was, was still being hotly debated by the scientists of the world, but Raff, who frequently worked with many eminent researchers, sided with those who believed that this was something humans did naturally with the small amounts of Wild energy their bodies encountered on a daily basis. On the flip side of the coin was the Wild where the so-called Wild energy flowed through the world naturally.

As Raff stepped beyond the Stability of the small town he turned to look back at it. From the outside, he saw the Stability as a dome that sat in the midst of a sea of the Wild. It looked a little like a soap bubble that had come to rest on a puddle without immediately bursting. The Wild energy pushing at it from every direction colored the wind in every imaginable hue although that was a sight only a person with a Wayfarer’s abilities could see. Looking at the ground he could see the flow of Wild energy beneath him as well. It even pulsed in the sparse natural vegetation of the area.

But the Stability dome resisted the ocean of Wild Energy in the same way a rocky island might resist the sea. So long as there were sufficient people within that Stability, it would be maintained. The interesting thing to Raff was how any one person’s stability aura was not enough to protect them against the Wild. A person who had been exposed to too much Wild Energy would sicken and die in short order. That could happen even to a Wayfarer, although trained Wayfarers knew how to resist those effects indefinitely. That was part of what made them Wayfarers; control of both their stable auras and of the Wild energy around them. The very best Wayfarers could convert Wild energy to stable and back again.

When two people came together, their combined stability aura grew to encompass a volume larger than the sum of the two did individually and once you had a dozen or so people, the Stability they formed, while still rather small, was sufficient to protect them from the effects of the Wild. That was both comforting and dangerous.

Boys the world over liked to play a game at the edge of the Wild. Everyone knew that if you walked out of a town’s stability, you would soon come right back even though you had continued walking in a straight line. This was something else no one had an agreed-on explanation for, but it happened none the less. The boys would have a contest in which, one by one, they would walk out of their Stability and whoever stayed out the longest won.

It was a mostly harmless contest, except that a Wayfarer did not naturally return to his or her Stability. Only one in a hundred or so individuals had that ability, but several times a year any larger Guildhall would have to send a master out to find a hitherto unsuspected child with Wayfarer talent who had managed to get lost in the Wild.

Not all got lost, of course. Those who kept their heads would soon realize that all they had to do was turn around and retrace their own steps and soon they would be back home. Many of them were able, without training, to see where they had been and could follow the natural trail of stable energy a person leaves in his path before it dissipated. There were even some children who just liked to step outside their Stabilities to watch the Wild energy and the sight of the stability dome.

But how and why humans generated a stable aura was still unknown. Most domesticated animals did as well and a herd of cattle or a flock of sheep had to be watched or they might wander away into the Wild. Cats were an exception. They were the only pets kept by both humans and Kenlienta and they did not seem to care whether their home was Wild or stable so long as it was comfortable, with a loving person to keep them fed. Raff realized that they must be natural Wayfarers and wondered why no one had thought to study them. He made a mental note to write to some of his colleagues and then forced himself to get back to business.

Looking downward again, he spotted the path northward to the next town. Paths were mostly built by Wayfarers and were a thread of Stability that had been built and maintained. They served as roads for travelers to follow and glowed with a light only a Wayfarer could see. Most of the time, the trace formed by repeated use by people on foot, on horseback or in wagons were enough to keep a party on track, but sometimes the ground was flat and hard and without a path a party could get lost. Only a master Wayfarer could navigate the Wild without a path.

Raff did not detect a trace of Francesca’s aura along the path, but it had been a few days since she was taken. It might have dissipated into the Wild by now. Also she was unconscious in the back of De Meni’s wagon. It would not be projected as strongly as when she was awake. He continued on for another mile and soon started to notice someone else’s trace beside the path, however. It was faint, but still noticeable. According to the townsfolk, there had been no other travelers in either direction since the abductions, it might be De Meni, but then Raff caught sight of still more different traces and realized what he was looking at.

The outraged people of the town had banded together and stormed into the Wild in an attempt to rescue Francesca. Enough of them together would have been sufficient to keep them from automatically returning to the stability. They had been lucky. Armies had been known to get lost in the Wild. There were tricks to navigating the Wild without a Wayfarer and it is possible that if they spread out along a line, always keeping the next one in sight, they might have had no trouble finding their way back home, so long as the one at the end of the line could still see the town they had left.

It was clever and resourceful, Raff had to admit, but it had also obscured any path he might have had to follow. “Well, it was a long shot anyway,” Raff said out loud to himself. He and Em would have to move up the coast to the next town and ask if Francesca and Di Meni had been seen.

“Did you find anything?” Emblem asked as Raff returned to their room in the local inn.

“Afraid not, just got a bit of exercise is all,” Raff managed to say between yawns.

“You get enough exercise already,” Em laughed, “or you do when you aren’t stuck in Taundon.”

“Hmm, good point,” Raff replied. “I wonder if I can run the Guild from outside of Taundon. Come to think about it, just because I own all the Guild’s assets, there’s no law saying I actually have to be the Guildmaster.”

“So who would you rather see in that position?” Em asked. Then she caught a gleam in his eyes and added, “Oh no! I don’t want the job any more than you do.”

“Kaz, perhaps, in a few years?” Raff asked. Kaz, or Kazani Basan was Raff’s and Em’s adopted son. He had been born on the Southern continent to a tribe of natives who had been mostly killed or sold into slavery by a neighboring tribe. He had survived the massacre and had wandered the width of the continent, causing no small amount of trouble, until Raff and Em had caught up with him. He had proved to be devilishly clever at times and quite intelligent and had grown up in the Green Lands and joined the Guild of Wayfarers. He and another Wayfarer, Chanya Sanai had been working with Raff and Em, but were currently stuck in Palendo, running the guildhall in Palendo City until someone else could be found for the job.

“He would never forgive you,” Em replied.

“True enough,” Raff nodded. Kaz had been stuck behind a desk in Central Guildhall since his elevation to master rank and had hated every minute of it. “But someone has to do the job. There really ought to be someone in the world capable of it without being corrupted by the power and entranced by the personal aggrandizement of the job.”

“There is,” Em agreed. “I’m married to him.”

“Funny,” Raff grumbled.

“I was not trying to be,” she insisted. “Raff, you assumed the title of Guildmaster because somebody had to and no one you could trust wanted the job. Frankly, I am not sure you would have trusted anyone who did want to be Guildmaster. Certainly you would not have allowed, hmmm, what was his name? Michael Roark?”

“Heavens forbid!” Raff exclaimed. “His only competence was in playing politics. He certainly didn’t make it to master rank on his abilities. What ever happened to him? Did we reassign him to the South pole or something?”

“No, he resigned from the Guild when you abolished the Guild Council,” Em replied. “He tried to find work for a while as an independent Wayfarer and I must admit that I was briefly worried that the Winns would hire him for their personal service, but as you say, he was only a journeyman by talent and not really capable of navigating beyond a regular route as a regular courier. If the Winns hired a personal Wayfarer he would have to be a true master and, the masters in the Congress are loyal to you. The ones who controlled the old Council were all too proud to be anyone’s employees, fortunately.

“Indeed,” Raff agreed. “Can you imagine the mayhem if the Prime Minister had his own personal Wayfarer on staff?”

“Every political leader would want one,” Em agreed. “In a sense it would be like the situation in Corisa.”

“It would be worse,” Raff told her. “In Corisa the Wayfarers pretty much are the government. It has been like that for a couple of thousand years or more. I may not like it, but it is a stable system, especially when the emperor has a strong enough personality to keep the government officials in check. Here, it would be much more chaotic and a lot of our politicians would be using their Wayfarers as enforcers and assassins. There was a lot of that after the fall of the Empire of Meni. It’s a major reason why the Guild was formed in the first place. Even Giles Harton understood that, he just wanted to be the one controlling the politicians. So what happened to Roarke? Do you know?”

“Of course,” Em chuckled, “I kept especial track of that one. He moved back to his home in East County and kept doing what he does best. Politics.” She made the word sound not dirty, but like something done only by someone incapable of honest work. “He established residence in a rotten borough for a couple of years then got elected to the House of Commons.”

“That’s not good,” Raff shook his head. “What if he gets elected prime minister one of these days?”

“Not so long as the younger Mister Winn has anything to say about it,” Em told him. “And I did send a note to Her Majesty warning her to keep an eye on him, so I doubt we need to worry about a Lord Michael Roarke. But even if he someday is the Prime Minister, what can he do to us or the Guild? Oh, I suppose it is possible to revoke our charter, but Roarke knows better than to try such a thing. Too many Wayfarers are loyal to the Guild and would not change their allegiance so easily so the Green Lands would be at an immense disadvantage compared to her neighbors. And without Wayfarers, she could not hold on to her colonies. She would no longer be a Power. Also should he try such a thing I suspect Queen Julia would consider such damage to be an act of treason.”

“Do they still mount the heads of traitors on spikes?” Raff wondered.

“I imagine there is nothing in law to stop such a thing,” Em replied. “They still do in Crace and Holrany, but no monarch in Julia’s dynasty has done such a thing.”

“Just as well,” Raff admitted. “There are far prettier sights I would rather see than Roarke’s head on a spike.”

“He is not likely to be a traitor in any case,” Em replied. “He is small-spirited and self-serving, but he stays within the letter of the law always. Even as a guild member his record was in using the rules and laws to his benefit. He did not break those rules. No. He excels at knowing who to flatter and when. Who to do favors for and what to trade for those favors. His election, for example; he moved into a borough with all of four qualified voters and made a few deals. So far as I could tell, he did not even actually pay off any of the voters as some do. Just made himself liked or owed a favor.”

“So an earwig of sorts,” Raff concluded.

“Yes, a flatterer,” Em agreed. “I have no doubt, we will run into him again, but if we still control the Guild he will act as though we are friends, if not, he may affect to not know us at all. Either way, I am not bothered. And now, my dearest, it is late and we should get at least an hour or two of sleep if we are to follow a cold trail.”

Three

“There!” Em pointed at the ground ahead days later. “The path has been cut just as you suspected.”

“That explains the way it’s been behaving,” Raff nodded, “and look to the east, is that a raw pathway?”

“I think so,” Em agreed. “It reminds me a little of the Path of Fire Kaz created when we were following him across the Southern Continent, although it is not as angry or dangerous, yes?”

“It’s not threatening to tie the local plants into knots,” Raff agreed. “Let’s repair the main path then we’ll follow that one.”

“Do you think this Francesca did that?” Em asked.

“If she didn’t, there is still a rogue or at least a newly awakened Wayfarer wreaking havoc across the countryside,” Raff replied even as he started to repair the main path. “I think a lot of people are potential Wayfarers but just never find themselves in a position where their abilities would become apparent. Quite likely there are a lot more than we think. In any case judging by the condition of the break, my guess is that this happened about two days ago, maybe a little more, which is about the time Di Meni’s or Huile’s wagon – I’m sure that was Huile – would have been here at about that time. Besides that ragged path bears a lot of similarity to Francesca’s stability trail.”

“I think so too,” Em replied. “What I can’t tell is if Huile, and I think it is him too, continued onward or if Francesca dragged him along with her. I hope the latter is the case, don’t you?”

“If she did, there is not going to be much of Huile left,” Raff replied, “and there are some questions I want him to answer, but if I’m honest I have to admit that capturing him alive will not be easy and after everything he has done, I will not weep over his fate should he meet it at the hands of one of his victims.”

“I agree,” Em nodded, “but somehow I doubt we have seen the last of that one yet.”

“Probably not,” Raff agreed, “but that is not all bad news. “He should be leading us to Julian D’Alere and he’s the one I really want to get my hands on. There are too many questions and right now he is my only surviving link to the answers.”

“Raff, I know he was one of three rogue master wayfarers who were behind Master Keith’s attempt to destabilize the situation in Varana,” Em replied, “but from what we have learned most of the money that was used came from Governor General Lopez di Ramoz. Are you certain there is more to this than just a Cracian governor trying to twist the situation to Crace’s advantage?”

“I’m running on a hunch,” Raff admitted. “This many rogue masters all acting together is too much to believe that there is not something more.”

“None of them were on the old Guild Council,” Em pointed out, “so there’s no real indication that any of your enemies from then are behind this.”

“Perhaps they are anyway,” Raff replied, “or maybe this lot thinks the Guild Congress would be easy to overthrow, being that is it relatively new. I think it is solid, but would they? And no matter what, their activities are discrediting the Guild in general, making us look bad. Besides knowing he is as near as he supposedly is, I cannot just shrug and go back to Taundon now.” He paused and then said, “There, the path is fixed, let’s follow the other one.”

“Do you want to use the energy to forge a path?” Emblem asked.

“It will allow us to move faster than if we just dissolve it,” Raff decided. “Let’s not deep forge it, though. Out here we probably do not have to worry about interrupting Kenlienta trade routes so if we keep it light it will disappear on its own in a few months.”

“How do you know there are no Ken?” Em asked. “Didn’t Elder Hatterix say there were three Kenlienta cities on this side of the continent?”

“He did, but I believe they are all to the north of Del Humo,” Raff replied as they started on the ragged path before them. “If that’s the case we need only keep this from being a hazard to humans.”

“There are humans other than the Cracian colonists around here,” Em reminded him.

“Ah yes, the Nasano, or whatever they call themselves in this region,” Raff nodded. “Did you happen to look that up?”

“Sorry,” Em apologized. When travelling she was generally more diligent than Raff about researching the local inhabitants of an area they were in and he had grown lazy, relying on her that way.

“Well, no need to worry,” Raff shrugged. “We’ll just keep an eye out for more cut paths just as we did on the Southern Continent.”

Their vigilance on that matter proved unnecessary and early the next morning they found Francesca Ramirez in a small cave, suffering from exposure to the Wild. She turned out to be of average height and with long, nearly black hair that looked as though it had not seen comb or brush in months, but in reality had only been a few days. Her clothing, a loose blouse and an ankle-length skirt, was dirty and the worse for wear, but Em could see it had been well-made and maybe a little better than most of what she had seen others in the area wearing. The woman was pretty and it was no wonder Huile had noticed her. “She may have been forging a path, however clumsily,” Em remarked even as she and Raff created a small temporary area of Stability in the cave, “but she doesn’t know how to protect herself out here.”

“That’s not too surprising,” Raff remarked. “She is a woman after all.”

A dangerous flash of red appeared in Emblem’s eyes as she snapped, “Would you care to explain that, sir?”

Raff laughed and thought about what he had said. “I didn’t mean it the way it must have sounded, but boys like to play on the edges of their Stabilities – that old game, right? Well, for the most part, girls do not. I don’t know if they are just too sensible, take their parents warnings more seriously, in general, are too timid or just do not see the attraction of doing so…”

“Any of that or all, I should think,” Emblem replied, calming visibly. “And I see what you mean. Yes. Girls’ games are not the same as those the boys play. Some are just as stupid, but different. It is possible, this one never left her town until she was abducted, so there would have been no reason to suspect she had the talent and if she was never in the Wild she would never have learned to protect herself either.”

“You were more than a bit Wild-crazed too when I found you,” Raff recalled, “Although you were more dehydrated and starving.”

“Kaz was perfectly healthy,” Em remembered.

“Kaz lived closer to the Wild than either of us when he was a boy,” Raff explained. “The edge of his village was only a few steps away and the people had to work their plantations cooperatively, with most of the village working together to keep the stability with them. As a boy, he naturally learned how to deal with the Wild and actually liked to play there. Some Wayfarers are like that, learning to shield off the effects of the Wild on their own without training. I think it may come more naturally to children than adults. There, this cave will be stable for a week or more, how is Francesca?”

“Who are you?” Francesca asked them weakly, answering Raff’s question for herself.

“We are Wayfarers,” Em explained. “Your town sent us to look for you. I am Emblem, and that is my husband, Raff. How are you feeling?”

“Better,” Francesca admitted. “It felt like I was just draining away.”

“You were,” Em told her, “but I think you should be fine soon. We’ll wait here until you have recovered and we can discuss what you would like to do next.”

“What do you mean?” Francesca asked, but before Em could reply she was snoring gently.

“Let her sleep it off now,” Raff advised. “Maybe I should make a pot of coffee and something to eat.”

“I shall do that,” Em stopped him. “I have eaten your so-called cooking before,” she added with a smile to take the sting out of her words.

“I have never actually poisoned anyone,” Raff protested.

“No, but you use spices in cup measures where anyone else would use a teaspoon,” Em laughed, “and your coffee is frequently strong enough to cut with a knife.”

“I never did get the hang of coffee,” Raff shrugged. “Keeps me awake that way.”

“It would keep a bear awake all winter if the poor thing made the mistake of drinking a cup,” Em shot back. Just then Francesca made a short humming sort of sound and when Em turned to see if she had awakened, the younger woman was still asleep, but with a slight smile on her face.

Francesca awoke two hours later feeling much better. “Can I go home now?” she asked as soon as she had something to eat and drink.

“You may if you like, of course,” Em told her, “but you show potential to be a pretty fair Wayfarer, if you are interested.”

“Wayfarer?” Francesca asked. “That is a man’s job.”

“Do I look like a man?” Em asked pointedly.

“You are a Wayfarer?”

“I am Master Emblem L’Oranne Cawlens,” Em replied calmly. She removed a stiff brush from her pack and started straightening out the young woman’s hair. “My father is the Baron Orseilles in Upper Crace, but when he sent me to marry the heir to the Duchy of Bur, I rebelled. It is a long story and one for another time, but, like you, I had a traumatic experience and my abilities as a Wayfarer came awake. This is a dangerous time for you. If you are as powerful as we think, you could be a danger to those around you. If you were to lose your temper you might also lose control over these now awake abilities in you.

“You do not have to do this,” Em assured her, “but I would like you to at least have some basic training as a Wayfarer. It will both make you safe to be around and possibly supply you with a more than adequate way to make a living.”

“I do not want to travel all over the world,” Francesca shook her head, sending her dark curls shaking back and forth.

“Keep still, dear,” Em chided her gently, “I’m still trying to untangle this mane of yours. You do not need to travel. In fact, it should be possible to station you as the local agent in your own town, once you have been trained. Can you read and write? How about do your sums?”

“I can, yes,” Francesca nodded. “I keep the books for my father.”

“Good,” Em nodded. “That is usually the hardest part. Basic training is usually a month or less and should you decide that you enjoy it, there is always more to learn. For example, sometimes the paths need to be repaired and we think you may have the ability to do so, but that will be up to you, of course. So do we take you straight home or would you like to come to El Pueblo del Valle del Humo with us?”

“I do not want to hurt my friends and family,” Francesca considered. “If it will be such a short time to train me, I will come with you.”

“Basic training doesn’t take long,” Em repeated. “The more advanced stuff can take years, but once you understand the basics you will be able to travel to del Humo by yourself or even to lead a party of travelers there and go back and forth.”

“I do not think I will enjoy that so much,” Francesca replied, “but we shall see.”

Four

They spent the next two days in the cave with Francesca until both Raff and Em were certain she was fully ready to continue on. “But I feel fine,” Fracesca had protested almost immediately.

“We have created a small area of Stability for you in this cave,” Raff explained. “It is as though we were in a town, but you have lost a lot more than you think. Once out in the Wild you need to be able to keep the Stability inside yourself and until you are back to normal that will be difficult or maybe even impossible.”

“You could protect me,” Francesca pointed out. “That is what Wayfarers do.”

“True enough,” Raff agreed, “but I want you to learn how to do that for yourself. It is not hard, but it helps if you are fully stable to start with.”

“And you can use the time to write a letter to send home,” Em suggested. “That way everyone will know you are safe and sound. Your friends and family were very upset, you know.”

“They were?” Francesca asked.

“Well, think about it,” Raff chuckled. “A pretty young woman is kidnapped right in front of you. Wouldn’t it bother you?”

“I guess so,” Francesca nodded. “Maybe I should return home instead.”

“With training you should be able to stop that from happening to anyone else in your town,” Em told her.

“Yes,” Francesca nodded. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

“Ink and a bit of blotting sand as well,” Em nodded.

It had been Raff’s intention to deliver the letter to the nearest Wayfarer office, a small village about two hours to their south and then return to the cave, but Francesca kept changing her mind about what she wanted to say in the letter. Consequently it was not finished until she was nearly ready to leave as well, so instead, they took the note with them and dropped it off with the office, which turned out to only be half an hour ahead on their trail.

Raff offered to get another horse for Francesca to ride on her own, but the young woman was not used to riding on horseback and certainly not comfortable riding one athwart. She did accept one of Em’s split skirts, but Em had the feeling she would eventually make her way home in a wagon.

They arrived on a hillside above El Pueblo del Valle del Humo three days later. It was a clear day with a crisp sea breeze coming off the ocean leaving Francesca to ask why there was no smoke.

“Well there is a little in the air,” Em replied after taking a sniff. “Smells mostly like cooking fires to me.” She went on to explain the history of the city’s name.

Del Humo looked like just another typical colonial town. Like most settled by colonists from Lower Crace, there was a large central plaza surrounded by shops and public buildings. Private dwellings were built beyond the central district so the area was a bit more spread out than the population of the area might suggest. Em knew the town had only been founded a few years earlier, but it was already growing into an important population center and explorers were finding and working to establish still more settlements up the coast.

“The nice thing about these small towns is that we can almost always expect to find the Guild office in the center,” Raff remarked as they rode down a long, straight street.

“Small?” Francesca asked, amazed. “This is the largest city I have ever seen.”

“I don’t mean to belittle you,” Raff replied, “but what places have you seen aside from your home town and the bare handful of villages and trading posts we slipped through on the way here? No, I really don’t mean that as an attack, but if you had been to as many places as I have… heck! Had you been to the places Em and I have been in just the last year, del Humo wouldn’t look like much to you either.”

“However,” Em added, “If you wait and watch, you will see del Humo grow. While this area was explored soon after the conquistadores of Salus, Lower Crace, that is, came to the Western and Lower Continents, Western Lorendo was not settled until a few years ago. I have heard, though, that del Humo was planned as the administrative center of the region. All new colonists will be coming through here and most of them will choose to stay here rather than break new ground. This is going to be a fair-sized city in the next decade or two.”

“But it is already twice the size of Santa Cecilia,” Francesca marveled.

“Is that the name of your hometown?” Raff wondered. “Funny, I never thought to ask. Well yes, it is about twice the size, but compared to Taundon or Carais, it is hardly a dot on the map. This is a town we could ride across in a few minutes. It takes more than a day to travel from one side of Carais or Taundon to the other and that does not count all the satellite Stabilities that circle them over the course of a few years.”

“Satellite Stabilities?” Francesca asked.

“We call the towns and cities we live in in Stabilities,” Raff responded. “There’s not much that is really stable about them, though. They grow and shrink in size with the population – from the edge of a really large city you can watch the edge of the stability done expand and contract each day as though it is breathing all because travelers come and go on their daily business. They also do not stand still. Stabilities float around through the Wild like soap bubbles on the surface of a bath tub. They usually do not move very fast, fortunately, and some just sway back and forth. Others travel in a well-known circuit and the paths of others are either random or just not yet understood. A small part of the job of the Guild of Wayfarers is to keep track of where all the Stabilities are. That way we know where to take people. Here, we have been following a single long path since we found you, but in a more highly populated area, you may see a dozen or more paths going off to various settlements.”

“Why not just place signs at the intersections?” Francesca asked.

“We could, but they might not be there the next time we went looking,” Raff explained, “Paths are anchored to the Stabilities they connect. When one or both move, the path moves a bit too. It doesn’t have to move very far to put the sign in the wrong place. It might even be pointing in the wrong direction. Anyway, I have not answered your question.

“The larger cities frequently have smaller towns, I guess you could call them clients or suburbs,that slowly circle them. Stabilities never actually merge, but most of the time these satellites are so close to the main stability that it does not take any training at all to cross from one to the next. Anyone with even a hint of the ability can travel to the next stability and lead others as well.”

“So Wayfarers are not needed in the big cities,” Francesca concluded.

“Just the opposite,” Em corrected her. “We’re needed so people know how to get to the satellite Stabilities, and sometimes to escort those who really are unable to step into a nearby neighborhood. The route to a satellite that you may have used last week, might take you to another town entirely now or nowhere at all. And there is the local Guildhall. Let’s check in. After several days on the trail I think we could all stand a hot bath.”

An hour later, with Francesca sleeping soundly in her room, Em found Raff seated with the local hall master, Hector Perez y Cajal. The local hall master was a thin man of average height with thinning dark hair and eyes. When Em found them they were drinking tall glasses of beer that she guessed Raff had chilled with a touch of his Wayfaring abilities since the glasses were damp with condensation. “I hope you have enough for everybody,” Em told them tartly as she approached their table.

Both men stood to greet her and Hector signaled for another round of the foaming golden liquid. “We’ve been waiting for you,” Raff told her.

“I can tell,” she replied, indicating the glasses. “Isn’t it amazing how you almost always equate waiting with drinking?”

“I don’t have enough hobbies,” Raff shrugged. “In any case all Wayfarers, regardless of rank, as you know, are required to present reports of their journey on arriving in any town with an administrative Guildhall. Hector and I felt it might be less repetitive and time-consuming if we reported together.”

“And we are doing it in the hall’s dining room?” Em asked as more glasses of beer arrived, courtesy of an apprentice. Raff did the honors and chilled the liquid down to the perfect temperature. “How refreshing.”

“I only use my office for dressing down errant journeymen,” Hector chuckled, “and, of course, handling matters of a sensitive nature. Most journey reports aren’t secret and Guildmaster Cawlens assures me there is nothing in your report that qualifies as such.”

Em raised an eyebrow toward her husband and he smiled his response. There were matters of their journey that were secret, but having been too open about them at previous stops, she knew he would keep them to himself this time around. They gave their report and Em followed Raff’s lead as he explained how they had learned about Francesca’s abduction and how they had rescued her.

“Does the name Paulo di Meni mean anything to you?” Raff asked Hector.

“No,” Hector replied, easily taking a sip of the freshly arrived beer. “Should it?”

“How about Sansom Huile?” Raff pressed.

“I have heard of him,” Hector nodded. “He’s been mentioned two or three times in the regular reports that arrive here. I had not heard he was anywhere in Lorendo, however. From what I understand he generally works out of Selomania although recently he has been in Maceno and Palendo.”

“I know that,” Raff replied cooly. “I’m probably the one who wrote the reports that mentioned him. We’ve been chasing him all over this side of the world and when last heard from he was headed this way. We think he’s the one who kidnapped Francesca Ramirez.”

“Stupid thing to do when he knows he is being followed,” Hector commented. “He does know, doesn’t he?”

“If he doesn’t, he would be the most stupid man alive,” Em laughed harshly.

“He is not stupid,” Raff put in. “He is a treacherous little snake of a man and devilishly clever when it comes to manipulating people, but he is not stupid. However, having a spark of intelligence does not preclude him from being a fool and he is that as well. He has been causing the Guild, and me personally, a lot of trouble and I intend to put a stop to that. But he hasn’t been here?”

“Not that I know, and I should,” Hector replied.

“Could we possibly have arrived here ahead of him?” Em asked.

“That is possible,” Hector admitted, “but I would not count on such a thing. Since he knows you are looking for him, I would not expect him to check into the hall as though he were a normal Wayfarer. We do not place our halls on the edges of Stabilities, you know and we are especially not Customs Houses, so there is nothing to prevent him from simply not coming to this hall and announcing himself. Del Humo is not a large city, but it is large enough that a stranger’s entry might go unremarked.”

“True, but why abduct a young woman from a town along the way?” Raff wondered. “Oh, I know the usual answers, but as we agreed, he knows we are looking for him. If he’s wants a women there are prostitutes in almost every town. There was no need to take one of the respectable girls with him.”

“Maybe that was not what he was after?” Em suggested. “He knows we are looking for him and we were fairly certain he was traveling alone. If one traveling Wayfarer was suddenly a couple, even people who were trying to help us might have been fooled.”

“That may be it,” Hector shrugged, “but he would still have been better off with a prostitute. Flash a gold coin or two and most would follow you across the ocean happily.”

“Like I said,” Raff put in, “Huile is a clever little worm at times, but he has shown himself to be a fool often enough as well. It is also possible that he came up with that idea, if that is what he was thinking at all, on the fly. Either way, he did what he did. Why he did it probably no longer matters, it just adds to the crimes he will pay for eventually.”

Emblem noticed that Raff was deliberately not mentioning Julian d’Alere, the rogue master Wayfarer that Huile answered to. Huile has been a nuisance and occasionally a menace, but it was d’Alere, one of three rogue masters who had been backing Charles Keith, or Carlos Castellano as he had been named at birth, and the treacherous activities in New Farington that had nearly killed Kazani Basan and Chanya Sanai. He was also the only one of the three who was still alive and therefore the only one who might reveal to Raff who else might have been involved and what their ultimate goals had been.

As he had discussed with Em, maybe all they had in mind was making themselves rich by acting on behalf of Crace in the Green Lands’ colonies in Varana, but such activities were also undermining the Wayfarers’ Guild and his own prestige within it. For his position and prestige in and of itself, he cared not a whit, but the Guild had always been his life and that of his family. His grandfather had been Guildmaster Blase Cawlens, who had reorganized the Council and thereby made the Guild the powerful organization it was today. His parents had both been Wayfarers, albeit powerful journeymen, not masters. Even his two brothers and his sister were strong wayfarers in their own rights although Raff was currently the only one of master rank in the family. In a very real way, the Guild was Raff’s family and he defended it as he would family, against all enemies great and small.

“He may have entered using another name,” Raff suggested to Hector. “Has anyone else arrived recently from the south?”

“Guildmaster,” Hector replied, “no one has arrived from the south in two weeks. We have had a few parties come and go from the north, but not the south.”

“Is there that much activity to the north?” Em asked.

“There are a few small villages,” Hector replied. “Most are trading posts with the natives – don’t call them Nasano. They don’t like that.”

“For the same reason I would not like to be called a Cracian,” Raff nodded. “It is not necessarily a bad thing, but it is not who or what I am.”

“Yes,” Hector nodded agreement. “There are quite a few tribes up that way, the Yumok are the closest. There are also a few farming towns, but most of the travelers in that direction are explorers looking for new areas for settlements.”

“The area is practically empty,” Em noted. “Surely, they do not have to search all that far.”

“For a small village with a few farmsteads?” Hector shrugged, “No. There is ample land around here for that, but these men are looking to found new cities, so they are looking for good harbors, rich land and, above all, location. Finding gold would not bother them either, but so far, the pieces you might come across were brought in from elsewhere.”

“Just as well, I suppose,” Raff sighed. “I was in Carondelet a few months ago when some prospectors showed up with a couple bags of gold dust. The whole town was in a tizzy demanding the Guild show them where it came from. Most of them didn’t have the slightest notion of how to mine for gold and from what I can tell, the two prospectors just got lucky one day while trapping for furs.”

“They were not lucky at all,” Em disagreed. “They both wound up dead for all their trouble.”

“Did they kill each other?” Hector asked, “or…” he let the alternatives hang.

“Hard to tell,” Raff replied, “and we did not stick around for the investigation. The local constabulary had the matter well in hand and wasn’t asking for help. Just as well as the man we were trying to find had just left town himself.”

“Huile again?” Hector asked.

“No, but he was involved,” Raff shrugged.

“Ah, then it must have been this d’Ace character those reports mentioned,” Hector concluded.

“Heh! I suppose I must be getting too suspicious in my old age,” Raff laughed. “Yes, that’s the wight I’m really looking for. I take it there has been no sign of him either. He left Palendo City well ahead of us.”

“I am afraid not,” Hector shook his head. “At least he did not enter del Humo under that name. You are, of course, free to go through all the hall records. I shall be most happy to assist or, if you would rather, I will leave you to look where you will. I realize that we have just met, Guildmaster, and therefore there is no reason you have to trust me, but please believe that I will not take offense should you want to work without my assistance.”

“Thank you, Hector,” Raff nodded. “To start with I think Em and I will look for ourselves and when I prove you to be an honest and honorable man I shall owe you an apology. Perhaps I shall call on you later, but for now if you could lead us to your records, I would be obliged.”

“But first I plan to send a similar query back down the line to Palendo City,” Em decided. Unless they have been very lucky, both Kaz and Chanya are still there keeping the local hall in operation. If Huile and, uh, d’Ace have been spotted elsewhere, they may have heard.”

Five

“Running a Guildhall is worse than working a desk in Taundon,” Master Kazani Basan complained. Kaz was one of the youngest and most powerful masters in the Guild of Wayfarers. Growing up in the Green Lands his dark skin had set him apart from the other boys and girls his age, especially at the private school Raff and Em had sent him to. Also he was slightly shorter than average for a Green Landsman although tall for a man of the tribe he had been born to, but learning to cope with the snobbery and taunts had sharpened his mastery of Wayfaring. Within the Guild, however, he had found that no one really cared what color his skin was nor how short he was since Wayfarers came in all shapes and sizes. What counted there were your abilities and in the Guild, Kaz was among the best.

“Kaz,” Master Chanya Sanai responded critically, “that is normally a good thing. A well-run Guildhall is supposed to be a model of routine and efficiency.” Like Kaz, Chanya, had been born on the Southern Continent and her skin color was, if anything, even darker than Kaz’s. However, she had also grown up in the Green Lands colony of Rhonesia, nearly three thousand miles away from Kaz’s home village, and had not traveled to the Green Lands themselves until she was recruited by the Wayfarer’s Guild and sent to Dunbridge University.

She was a slim woman and took pains to straighten her normally curly hair in conformity with Grundish fashions, although her tastes in clothing was varied. Right now, whereas Kaz right now was dressed as a Grundish gentleman might, Chanya had adopted the more exotic styles of the local women in Palendo City where extreme frills on blouses, skirts and dresses were the norm. Most recently she had taken to wearing blouses with very loose sleeves because her arm was still in a splint having broken it several weeks earlier.

“Did you read that out of some official Guild manual?” Kaz asked skeptically.

“I may have,” she admitted, “but that does not make it any less true. If running this hall were exciting I think we would be doing something very wrong. Besides, it is only until another master is sent to take permanent office here.”

“I wish he were here now,” Kaz shot back. “I prefer more interesting work. I’m not cut out for paper-pushing. At least in Taundon there was something to do in the evenings. Palendo City is in the middle of bloody nowhere.”

“It has been quiet,” Chanya admitted, “but I think there’s supposed to be a fiesta next week. That should be fun.”

“Perhaps,” Kaz nodded.

Chanya knew what the real problem was. She and Kaz had originally come to this side of the world ahead of Raff and Em. When they showed up, it had been supposedly just to give Kaz a little necessary backup. Now they had gone ahead to Lorendo leaving Kaz and Chanya behind. Chanya understood that someone had to be left here and was honored that the Guildmaster had considered her capable of running this hall, however temporarily. Kaz just ached to be at the heart of the action with his adoptive parents.

At first there was a lot to do. The Guildhall had been in quite a state following the battle with the former hall master and new floor boards and walls had to be installed. But there was a large labor pool in the city and repairs were accomplished far faster than Chanya might have guessed. Since then it have just been a matter of assigning work to appropriate Wayfarers.

The office door opened and the journeyman who had been working at the front desk downstairs stepped in. “Excuse me, Masters,” he started, “But Governor General Lopez di Ramoz requests some of your time.”

“And he thinks we can just drop everything and go rushing off to his palace, does he?” Kaz asked sourly.

“I thought you were bored,” Chanya laughed.

“Not that bored,” Kaz shook his head and turned back toward the journeyman.

“No, sir,” the journeyman replied at last. “He came here and is waiting at your pleasure downstairs.”

“Might be important,” Chanya commented to Kaz. “Might be interesting.”

“Are you trying to be funny?” he shot back.

“Trying and succeeding,” Chanya countered and told the journeyman, “Please escort His Excelency up here.”

“Yes, ma’am!” the journeyman replied and quickly left the office.

“Now what does he want?” Kaz wondered. The Governor General had been the man who supplied the money that eventually funded Keith’s plan in Southern Varana. He had also been a friend of Master Juan del Canzone, who had also been using the pseudonym Juan Vasco and was a confederate of D’Alere and Gaston Omez. Di Ramoz’s defense had been that it was del Canzone who presented the plan to him as something that had been approved by the Guild. The problem was that they only had the word of the Governor General. Del Canzone had died before Raff could get any important details from him.

“I suppose we are about to find out,” Chanya replied. “Now try to be polite, even if you refuse his request. I am certain you must have had etiquette classes back in that fancy high school of yours.”

“I did,” Kaz admitted, “but somehow what I learned rarely comes up.”

“Then should I give you enough time to put on your best Sarahnie loincloth and to sharpen your hunting spear?” Chanya laughed. “I mean if you are planning to war…”

“The Sarahnie were not a warrior tribe,” Kaz sighed. “We were primarily farmers and did a bit of hunting for meat.” There was sadness in his voice and Chanya realized she had crossed a line.

“I’m sorry, Kaz,” she apologized immediately. “I did not mean to hurt you by bringing that up.”

Kaz flashed her a thin smile. “No. It’s all right. It does not hurt so much anymore, but I do miss my family. Your point, however, is correct. Just because I was not born to a civilized people does not mean I have to act like a barbarian. Ah, Governor General,” he rose to greet the man as he came through the office door. “Please come in.”

“Thank you, Master Basan,” di Ramoz replied. “You have redecorated the office.”

“Rebuilt it nearly from scratch, I am afraid,” Kaz shrugged as he polite shook hands with the man. “When my father gets angry, fragile things like buildings and mountains sometimes suffer the consequences.”

“I do believe I caught of hint of that when I met him,” the governor general smiled. He sat and Chanya offered him a cup of coffee. “Thank you, Master Sanai. This is most appreciated.”

“So what can the Guild of Wayfarers do for you today, Governor?” Chanya asked.

“I need to move two battalion of soldiers south to the District of Tanemala,” di Ramoz replied.

“Why?” Kaz asked bluntly.

The governor general looked as though he had been slapped. “I deserve that,” he admitted, “after my association with Master del Canzone, but this is not a matter of questionable international meddling. This is to directly protect the people of Palendo. There has been an uprising of the indigenes to the south. Have you heard of the Fayano?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Kaz admitted. “I thought the indigenous people of Palendo were the Nasano.”

“The Nasano live around Palendo City,” the governor general explained, “and their territory ranges from the Bright Ocean to the Gulf of Palendo, more or less.”

“More or less?” Kaz asked.

“There are a few exceptions,” di Ramoz sighed. “You do understand that the original Nasano were those natives who lived on the Southern Islands, correct? Well, the conquistadores tended to call any native Nasano, and that is a general name for native in both the Western and Lower Continents, yes? The Nasano the first explorers found and contacted died out, mostly from the Small Pox, but the name continued in use. The Conquest of Palendo killed off thousands of indigenes and, sadly, I suppose, destroyed their tribal identities. The survivors accepted the name Nasano, began to form a new tribe and accepted the teachings of Menism.”

“Sounds familiar,” Kaz admitted. “We covered some of that in history class although my teachers had a distinctly Grundish viewpoint.”

“The differences are only over whether the Conquest and its aftermath were justified. In Crace we are taught the conquistadores were doing the work of God. I don’t know if anyone still believes that, but that is the way it is taught.”

“In the Green Lands we see our own colonial expansion as a natural progression,” Kaz admitted, “but somehow the native people of the lands we colonize tend to get ignored in those particular classes, unless they got angry enough to go to war with us. But you say they are not all Nasano?”

“Are we not all taught that nobody is perfect?” di Ramoz replied, with a slight smile. “The Conquest was as far from perfection as a human endeavor is likely to come short of complete disaster and it was not as complete as the history books would imply. There were a few scattered villages of natives who retained their original tribal identity. They were probably allowed to live in peace because they surrendered without violence and gave up their heathen gods for Menism. Most survivors were transported as the history books call the process. They were split up, frequently families, when they survived at all, were torn apart, and moved all over Palendo into new villages.”

“Did those villages exist before they were moved there?” Chanya asked.

“My teachers never said,” di Ramoz admitted, “but I suspect many did not. It was not our proudest moment. In any case, that only applies tangentially to what is happening in Tanemala. The Fayano were a client tribe of the Nasano Empire centered here in Palendo City, by the time the Nasano were beaten, the rest of the empire just fell apart and the more draconian pacification measures were not seen as necessary. Until now I would have thought that was just as well, now, however…” he paused as though looking for a way to go on.

“What has happened?” Chanya prompted him.

“The Fayano are in revolt,” di Ramoz replied. “They have been raiding the Lorendan towns in Tanemala.”

“The Guild specializes in peace negotiations,” Kaz pointed out, “even after hostilities have broken out.”

“I fear it was too late for that even before the first report arrived on my desk,” di Ramoz replied. “The Fayano are not just killing colonists, they are sacrificing them to their gods. They have formally declared war on us, which in their old religion means thousands of blood sacrifices.”

“Blood sacrifices?” Chanya echoes.

“They raiding colonial towns and took as many people captive as they could,” di Lopez explained. “Then they dragged those captives to the top of a pyramid, cut their hearts out and while those hearts were still beating, they dropped them into a sacred fire. According to my reports, they have sacrificed over one thousand colonists, most of them women and children.”

“I thought the old religion had been eradicated in the Conquest two centuries ago,” Chanya remarked.

“There are native villages, isolated in the deep jungle, that no Cracian has ever seen,” di Ramoz replied. “I understand they are small villages, probably meant as ceremonial centers only and the pyramids are nothing like the ones here in the center of the city. If they had been, the conquistadores would have seen them and had them pulled down.”

“They did not pull down the ones here,” Kaz pointed out.

“They destroyed the temples that were at the tops,” the governor general replied. “There is another large ceremonial center to the north of here that has large temple pyramids too, but it had been abandoned before the Conquest, so those old pyramids were allowed to stand as well. Everywhere else, they were torn down, but either they were not all found or else the Fayano have started rebuilding the temples – both, I would guess. We did think all the natives had converted to Menism, but perhaps not, or maybe they have simply resurrected their old gods in order to go to war with us. Either way there is no negotiating with them. Too many innocents have died and the colonists would never accept it. Furthermore, the Fayano will not negotiate now that war is declared. It is not their way. A war for them is to extinction, theirs or ours.”

“They cannot surrender?” Kaz asked.

“Only after their leaders have been captured and executed,” di Ramoz replied. “The people of this land do not see war in the same way people of the Northern Continent do. You and I see war as a limited thing. We fight for glory, for money, for our God and country, but our wars have specific goals.”

“So does theirs,” Kaz pointed out. “Their goal is freedom and independence.”

“And the death of all Cracians,” di Ramoz added, “and I do not mean just Cracians in Palendo. Their war is on Crace and all her colonies. If we were to leave Palendo, not that we would, they would eventually follow us to Maceno and Lorendo, Selomania… and to Carais herself if they could.”

“They couldn’t, of course,” Chanya replied.

“Not now, but if left alone they would remain at war with Crace even if it took centuries to complete the war,” the governor general told her. “Well, I seriously doubt His Majesty would allow that to happen and as his governor general it is my duty to see that this revolt is squashed as soon as possible and with as little life lost as possible.”

“Cracian life, of course,” Chanya replied.

“Fayano life too, if it can be managed,” di Ramoz replied, “but that does not seem likely, does it? In any case, the army cannot move without the Guild and I shall need a sufficient number of Wayfarers to escort the troops down to Tanemala.”

“All right,” Kaz nodded. “Tell me more about how your army is organized.”

Six

“You’re crazy!” Chanya told Kaz heatedly. “You are the Guildhall master for Palendo City, you cannot go escorting the army south to Tanemala.”

“Chanya, I can’t go assign one of the journeymen to guide such a large force, especially into hostile territory. In a battle a journeyman wouldn’t be able to protect himself. This is a job for a master.”

“You idiot!” Chanya nearly screamed at him. “That’s too much for any one Wayfarer, even you. You will take Master Paco, he just arrived last night, and you will take at least two journeymen from the pool. You’ll need them, especially if parts of the army get cut off from the rest. You could use more if we had them to spare, but we don’t.”

“But you agree I have to do this?” Kaz asked.

“I don’t have to be happy about it,” she grumbled, “and I’m not, but one of us has to stay in the hall – hold down the fort and all that. If we had more masters in town at the moment I would demand you send them too. There should be at least five Wayfarers for an army this size; six for a force with this one’s organization, but we don’t have the talent.”

“Speaking as someone who has spent far too much of his time shuffling records in Central Guildhall,” Kaz replied, “I can assure you the recommended numbers are highly inflated. You know the Guild generally discourages warfare. That is part of how we do it. By making our rates high enough to give even kings and emperors cause to consider whether the price is too high. Really, it only takes one Wayfarer to guide any size contingent of people. An army is its own stability, remember?”

“And armies have gotten lost in the Wild when they have tried to navigate without a Wayfarer or when their Wayfarer died en route,” Chanya countered. “That is why multiple Wayfarers are needed for an army, and as you pointed out yourself, parts of an army can get split off from the main battle.”

“That happens all the time,” Kaz told her. “It is one of the many dangers of warfare. It is true that the more Wayfarers you have the better chance you have of finding isolated platoons and lost battalions and you can do it more rapidly as well with more looking at once, but except in an ambush, a Wayfarer does not go into battle. He points the way and stands back. Fighting is only in our contract when ambushed. Some officers think we are cowardly because of that, but those who truly know us, respect us for our neutrality.”

Kaz and his party of Wayfarers reported an hour before dawn the next morning to where the army had mustered on the southern edge of Palendo City. “One thing I really like about you Wayfarers,” General de Brigada Antonio Vega remarked on meeting them, “is that you are always on time. I never need to hold up a march because my guide decided to sleep in.”

Before replying, Kaz took a quick glance at the general. He was dressed in a freshly pressed deep blue uniform and looked as though he had been awake for two hours, just to get dressed before breaking his fast, which, Kaz decided, he probably had.

“It probably comes from having to catch ships, General,” Kaz smiled. “The tide won’t wait for anyone, a lesson we frequently have to drill into our charges, so naturally we understand what it is to keep to a schedule.”

“Just so,” General Vega nodded. “I have a few lieutenants who could stand to learn that lesson. Everyone is up today, though and getting one last meal before the march. If you and your men are hungry, the mess is open to you too, of course.”

“We ate at the Guildhall,” Kaz admitted, “although a cup of coffee if you have some would be appreciated.”

“We have both coffee and cocoa,” Vega nodded. “Both are local crops now, although coffee has only been grown in Palenda for about twenty years. I find the brew from it is quite different from that I have had in Crace.”

“Like any other crop,” Kaz shrugged, “I imagine there are differences due to location, weather, soil conditions. I’ve had the local coffees from the Southern Continent and from here and the Lower Continent. Both are good if brewed properly. Did you know that all the coffee trees on this continent came from a single parent seed?”

“No,” Vega shook his head and he led the way toward where food was being served. “Tell me about that.”

“Well, as I heard it and as you likely know, coffee originated from a relatively small region on the western side of the Southern Continent. When people first discovered it, they planted the trees intentionally and soon the entire region was producing coffee. Eventually the Dixans purchased some seedlings and started growing their own coffee in their colonies in New Dix off the coast of the Eastern Continent.”

“The Dixans are master merchants, are they not?” General Vega remarked. He grabbed a pair of rough mugs and handed one to Kaz. The other Wayfarers helped themselves. “They know the value of a cash crop.”

“True enough,” Kaz nodded, “but interestingly it was the mayor of Wolterdam who presented a single coffee seedling to His Cracian Majesty for his botanical garden, oh, I guess it was a little over sixty years ago. Several years later a young naval officer managed to obtain a seedling from that tree and transported it, in spite of rough weather, a saboteur’s attempt to kill the seedling and even an attack by pirates to the Southern Islands. Since then millions of trees have been bred from that single seedling.”

“Which in turn,” Vega added as he poured coffee for Kaz and then himself, “all came from that one tree of His Majesty. So this is truly a regal drink.”

“Your health, General,” Kaz toasted him with the coffee.

“And yours, Master Basan,” Vega returned. He took a sip of his coffee and grimaced a bit, “though perhaps this particular batch has been on the fire a little too long.”

“It will keep us awake at least,” Kaz laughed.

“Or else we would have nightmares remembering the flavor,” Vega replied.

“I’ve had worse and it is probably too late to start a fresh batch if we expect to move out at dawn,” Kaz replied and took another sip. It was true he had tasted worse coffee, but not much worse. However, he smiled and finished the cup. For an initial contact with the man with whom he would be working, it had gone well, better, in fact than he might have expected. The man might have been the sort to be on edge just before going into action, whether from a secret fear or just wanting to get on with it already, but this general seemed to understand that a person must learn to enjoy the good moments while they lasted and seemed easy-going at least for now. How he behaved as they got closer to the time of battle might reveal more, but Kaz’s main job was to get this man and his army to the battle.

As they continued to sip at the over-brewed coffee, General Vega introduced them to his other top officers, a coronel and four commandantes, and as he did, Kaz considered how to assign his Wayfarers. “General,” he began, “I only have four Wayfarers so I cannot station one with each of your top officers and their, uh battalions? Is that the term?”

“That is the Grundish pronunciation, Master Basan,” General Vega nodded, “but it is close enough to Cracian that no one would misunderstand, and yes, this brigade we are leading southward consists of four battalions. I would have preferred more, of course, any good general would, but this is all the governor general and I felt we could afford to pull away from the rest of the colony. A native rebellion like this could easily spread and if too many of us go south, the north would be vulnerable.

“As for your Wayfarers,” Vega continued, “If you think it is wise to spread them out, why not station one with each battalion? Coronel Reyes and I will be over-seeing them all and will stand with one or another as any actual battle commences. To tell the truth, we are hoping that our numbers will be seen as enough to keep any real fighting to a minimum, although I would not hold up any hope of that happening. When the Fayano fight at all it is to the death.”

“So I have been told,” Kaz nodded. “Well, I believe that will be the best way to start and we can shift our Wayfarers around as well should that prove the better tactic later on.”

The journey southward proved to be quite pleasant. The weather was warm, but nor oppressively hot and the few rain showers in the late afternoons seemed more refreshing than bothersome. Kaz wondered about that. It had certainly not matched his experience with the weather in Palendo so far, but he decided that even here there had to be nice days occasionally, then he laughed at himself. His boyhood in the jungles of Teltoa had more than acquainted him with weather in a rain forest. Worrying about the rain during the wet season was one of the more useless things he could have done. When had he become so “civilized?”

All remained quiet for the first week of their journey until, just a day from their destination, they were ambushed while making their way through a tight mountain pass. The first sign of trouble was detected by Coronel Reyes. “This feels wrong to me, Master Basan.”

“Wrong?” Kaz asked, looking around. “In what way?” He could see the Wild energy flowing with the wind and the clouds overheard were glistening in the iridescent way they only could when viewed from within the Wild.

“I cannot put it into words,” Reyes admitted, “but…” And then Kaz spotted it. A small stability dome hidden within the trees just above them on their right side. At the same time Reyes gasp a gasp of pain and when Kaz looked back there was an arrow sticking out of the coronel’s chest. After that, there was no time to think as arrows and gunfire rained down on the trapped Palendan army.

Behind him Kaz heard General Vega shouting orders and all around men scrambled to obey. The activity snapped Kaz into action as well and he jumped to the ground even as he fired off a force thrust toward the stability dome he had spotted. A force thrust was the bread and butter of a Wayfarer’s arsenal. When performed correctly it literally shot Wild energy into a target, forcing out any trace of stability. It was lethal when it hit directly. Then Kaz noticed several other small Stabilities, clusters of humans, on both sides of the valley and he realized the Fayano had planned their ambush well.

“Master Basan!” one of the journeymen, Gomez Viejo, called to him. “What do we do?”

“For now?” Kaz replied. “Stay alive. Do you know how to do a force thrust?”

“Of course,” Gomez nodded. “Not in a Stability, of course, but out here, nothing to it.”

“You might be surprised,” Kaz told him. “We have more than enough men here for a fair-sized town. Doing tricks will be as difficult as it is in the city. What about illusions?”

“Oh sure,” Gomez laughed. “That I can do in the city. What sort of illusion?”

“Anything that will confuse the Fayano,” Kaz advised. “Simulated invisibility is always useful, and making some of the soldiers appear to be elsewhere works well too. Any idea where Paco and Juan are?” Just then five Fayano warriors came screaming at them from out of the trees. They were waving obsidian-bladed war clubs and had the glazed eyes of someone who had been drugged to the gills. Kaz decided they probably were drugged, but he cast a wide force thrust at them, Then fell to the ground dead in just an instant. “Why are we standing out in the open?” he asked scathingly to himself. “Come on!” he led the way to where the Palendan soldiers had regrouped to form a defensive line.

“Wayfarers, over here!” General Vega shouted. Kaz saw him and ran to his side. “Where are your fellows?” he asked Kaz while musket shots fired out in all directions.

“Proabably back down the line a mile or so. We had to string the army out quite a ways to get through this pass, you know.”

“Don’t remind me,” Vega grumbled. “I’ve sent orders back down the line to bring the men up to this position. Our one stroke of luck is that they did not wait until we were halfway through the pass and instead attacked the head of our line. We would have been split in two and probably isolated from each other.”

“With a master Wayfarer in each half of the army,” Kaz pointed out, “but you are right. I’m no soldier, but even I can see this is better. What do we do now?”

“Keep your head down,” Vega advised. “I know you Wayfarers are not allowed to fight.”

“That’s not quite accurate, sir,” Kaz pointed out. “My responsibility is to see you and your men safely to your base in Tanemala. We will not do more than guide you to the battlefield after that, but we are bound to defend against any attacks on you until we reach that destination.”

Before the general could respond a large mass of burning brush flew at them as though it had been flung by a catapult. Kaz reached out with his mind and pushed it slightly upward and then directed it toward one of the Stabilities on the opposite side of the valley from which it had come. Overhead they heard the screams of pain when it hit.

“Then again,” Kaz remarked. “I have a few ideas of my own. General, these Fayano cannot be here without their own Wayfarers to guide them. My guess is that they would be their local priests or some such. That’s who just lobbed that fireball at us. I suggest that you and your men fight a conventional battle while I and my Wayfarers handle their priests.”

Vega nodded and the afternoon wore on with various feints and charges from and toward the enemy. Eventually all four Wayfarers found themselves near the front of the battle which while not their usual position in times of war put them where they were most needed. “There, there and there!” Gomez pointed at where he thought the local priests were situated. “There’s just something different about the way the Stabilities look there.”

“More pointed,” Master Paco agreed as he and Kaz shot a series of force thrusts in the indicated directions.

“I think we got one of them,” Kaz commented, “but force thrusts get less effective the further you are from a target and they are fairly easy to block when you know they are coming. I blocked several near the start of the battle, but they may not have been very effective in any case. What’s that?” he asked as the ground began to shake and a loud rumble seemed to come up from out of the Earth.

“Earthquake!” someone shouted from behind them.

“It’s not natural,” Master Paco noted, “not completely.” He did something and when Kaz observed he saw Paco was manipulating the Wild energy in the ground beneath them. Blocking an attempt to open the earth beneath their feet. “There’s a natural fault down there, but…”

“I see it,” Kaz agreed. “Keep blocking them for now, I have an idea. Gomez, find General Vega and tell him we need an orderly retreat. Then come back here and report on his reaction.”

While they waited Kaz assisted Master Paco which became essential when other enemy Wayfarers started adding their power to the one who was attempting the earthquake. A few minutes later the earthquake slacked off. “I believe they have given up,” Paco commented.

“Or are regrouping for another attack,” Kaz replied. “Keep up the vigilance. Any sign of Gomez?”

“I see him coming,” Juan reported.

Just then the signal to retreat was sounding all over the valley. “Well, apparently, General Vega actually listens to suggestions,” Kaz noted. “Remind me to buy him a drink. Paco, keep up what you are doing, I expect our friends upslope to try again as we back up, but we’ll be retreating with the rest of the army.”

“What are you planning?” Paco asked as they started moving back from the front.

“Oh just a little tit for tat, you might say. I thought I’d give them their earthquake right back at them.” Kaz smiled, then he caught an unnatural movement of Wild energy. “See? I told you they would try again. We have to block it until we’re all out of danger.”

Armies do not move quickly if they are to stay in order and the retreat seemed painfully slow as men moved back, while others covered them. Once behind the new lines, the soldiers would take up new positions and the men in front of them would retreat in kind. They traded places like that while the Wayfarers fended off as many arrows and musket balls as they could for the next half an hour until Kaz decided they had moved back far enough. The he reached out with his mind and followed the fault back up the valley. It was not ideally placed for what he wanted to do and then he realized there was a better way.

Reaching high up in the mountains’ sides, however he found just what he needed with much less energy expended. He directed the wild energy between the strata of the rocks that made up the mountains and loosed up huge slabs of stone, causing a pair of massive landslides that crashed their ways down the mountain sides and into the valley.

“That’s, uh, very impressive,” Master Paco admitted, “but aren’t we downhill from about a thousand thousand tons of moving rock?”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Kaz admitted sheepishly. “Oh well, I guess those Fayano priests had a good idea to begin with.” He reached out again and the ground began to shake in earnest as Kaz forced the fault to open up in the same manner the Fayano had attempted earlier and failed. The fault yawned open, but Kaz realized it would not be enough to stop the entirety of the double landslide. “Paco, I need you to feed me as much power as you can muster,” Kaz told him. He reached downward with everything he had and used the Wild energy, not as a Wayfarer normally might but in a method the Kenlienta called magic.

As Kaz had once learned years earlier from a Kenlientan girl named Faisha, all objects had the potential to move in any direction. Most objects stayed still because the forces that were pushing them in one direction rather than another were countered by other forces were pushing back, keeping everything in balance. Ken elders and even those merely in training had a trick by which counter forces could be temporarily nullified. As it had been explained to Kaz, all you had to do to make the objects move in the direction you wanted was to remove the countering force.

In Therin Kal, Faisha had taught Kaz how to clear snow away, merely by causing snowflakes to miss one another. At the time it seemed like he was doing the impossible, but later, after several classes in Physics he began to understand why it worked at all. Now, he essentially did the same thing with the stone of the valley floor, except instead of pushing it to the sides, he mounded it up in front of him.

The sound of breaking and moving stone was horrendous, but while the ground trembled from the on-rushing landslide headed their way, there was no vibration added to the tumult as Kaz’s vast pile of stone rose up. The rumble of the landslide grew closer and then crashed into the shield of stone. The crash was deafening and Kaz feared he might not have done enough as the whole area shook, knocking nearly everyone to their feet and a cloud of dust and pebbles sailed over head.

Finally, the rumbling stopped and the only noises were the groans and other sounds of men getting to the feet and the shower of pebbles. Then the dust started to settle, but before more than a few men could breathe it in, Kaz used one more burst of Wild energy and pushed it off to one side.

“One more thing,” Kaz told them as he concentrated once more on the pile of stone, using Kenlienta magic to move it out of their way. Beyond that Kaz caught sight of the debris field of the landslide, shortly before losing consciousness.

Seven

Kaz woke up in a dark, stuffy room and, to his surprise, on a real bed. He tried to sit up, but did so too quickly and a wave of dizziness advised him to lie back down again. It took two more tries before he could sit up on the bed. In the dim light that seeped in through the shuttered window, he saw his pack on the floor and his clothes draped neatly over the seat of a simple chair. There was also a simple table beside the bed, but there was nothing on it. He was hungry, but even more than that, he was thirsty beyond words.

Kaz had just decided to try getting to his feet when the door to his room opened and a short middle-aged woman came in, carrying a tray with a ceramic pitcher and a cup on it. “You shouldn’t be up, señor,” she told him worriedly.

“Why not?” Kaz wondered. “I feel like I’ve been asleep for a week.”

“You were brought here a day and a half ago, señor,” she informed him.

“And where is here?” Kaz asked as she poured some liquid into the cup.

“Rio Verde, señor,” she replied.

“In Tanemala?” he asked. She nodded. “Oh yeah, I think we were half a day away. So I slept over two days. No wonder I’m so hungry and thirsty. What’s this?” he asked as she handed him the cup. He took a sip and discovered it was nothing more than water. He drank it down and she refilled the cup. After he had finished that one he asked, “Is there anything to eat around here and am I in an inn or is this your home?”

“A tavern, señor,” she replied, “and I will get you something. Some broth, perhaps.”

“I’d prefer something a bit more filling,” he told her.

“Your stomach is empty,” she replied. “We must fill it gently at first.”

“Maybe,” Kaz replied. “Better yet I should come to the main room. Hey, if this is a tavern, why is it so quiet?”

“It is just a hour before dawn, señor,” she replied. “Most of the world is asleep.”

Kaz decide not to correct her notion of geography and instead replied, “Yeah, okay. But I’d like something a bit more filling than broth.” She gave him the universal look that most women did when a man was being a fool, but said nothing as she left the room. “I know that look,” Kaz chuckled to himself and he poured a third cup of water. “Chanya gives it to me all the time.” He drank the water and then decided to see if his legs were still working properly.

His first step from his bed nearly sent him to the floor, but he regained his balance and after a few minutes of hanging on to the side of the bed while he supported himself he found that he could walk without supports so long as he was careful. He got dressed quickly and then, finally left the room. The hallway outside only had a single oil lamp burning to show him the way, but to his surprise, the tap room of the tavern was on the same level, which was just as well. He had been dreading trying to make his way down a flight of stairs.

The woman brought him a bowl of some sort of spicy stew. He thought the meat in it was turkey and the sauce was red. A few spoonsful later he decided that he probably should have started with the broth. His stomach was doing flip-flops but he managed to keep the food down and just ate more slowly than he would have liked at this point. He was still nursing his bowl of stew when Master Paco found him an hour later.

“Master Basan!” Paco greeted him cheerfully, “We were wondering when you would wake up. General Vega was worried.”

“Just don’t tell Chanya what happened,” Kaz requested. “She’ll never let me live it down.”

“Um, too late, I think,” Paco replied. “I had to send a report back to Palendo City and the army medic did not know what was wrong with you. He thought it was exhaustion.”

“It was, sort of,” Kaz explained. “That’s what happens when you try to do too much with Wayfaring.” Then he remembered exactly what he had been doing and added, “or magic. You feel just fine while you’re doing it, but when its over you suddenly realize you used a lot more of your own life energy than is good for you. It is entirely possible to kill yourself that way unless there is another Wayfarer or Ken Elder nearby to infuse you with a bit of the energy that gives us life.”

“I didn’t know that,” Paco admitted, “but then I know nothing of Ken magic.”

“Well, I got lucky then,” Kaz admitted. “It certainly could have been a lot worse and I’ll recover from this at least. I expect Chanya is going to kill me when I get back to Palendo City. So how goes the war with the Fayano?”

“I think we saw most of it there in that pass,” Paco replied. From what we could tell, those landslides of yours killed over half of their army and took out their war leader as well as all the priests who were there. There have been a few incidents here and there and a skirmish or two, but without a war leader the Fayano are surrendering town by town as the army arrives. It will probably take another month or two to completely clean the area up and I suspect the army will stay around here longer than that, but the journeymen who were stationed here in Tanemala should be up to the task. I’m glad to see you awake though. There’s a party of merchants looking for passage back to Palendo City and I knew you would want to be the first out of here.”

“I appreciate that,” Kaz replied. “How about you?”

“I’ve offered to escort a party out to the coast and from there I figure there is always someone headed north, although you never know. A few times I have had to help someone get to western Maceno, though that is usually by sea so it’s an easy assignment.”

“Well, don’t get lost down there,” Kaz chuckled. “You’re needed in Palendo. Me, I think I need another day to recuperate though. Will those merchants wait?”

“They’ve been stuck here since the war broke out,” Paco informed him. “What’s another day or two?”

“Good point,” Kaz nodded. “I’ll see General Vega later today and make sure he’s happy with the service. He’d better be, it sounds like I fought his war for him. That sure wasn’t in the contract. Then I had better get back to Palendo City before Chanya storms down here herself to drag me back by the ears.”

Paco look at him sharply and then laughed. “Looks to me like she’s done that a time or two already.”

“Heh!” Kaz laughed. “No, not her. My mother though. Have you met her? Emblem Cawlens?”

“Ah, the one with fiery red hair,” Paco smiled. “The Guildmaster’s wife. I have met her, yes, but happily she was not trying to correct my behavior or my ears might stick out as much as yours, no?”

“Assuming she left them attached,” Kaz laughed. “Well, I think I’m ready for some more of this stew, how about you?”

“My belly is not as strong as yours it, I fear,” Paco told him. “I prefer something with a little less fire to break my fast. Have you tried the pan de maiz? No? You must! I’ll get some.”

Kaz’s trip back to Palendo City was uneventful and to his great relief, he managed to catch up to the packet containing Paco’s report of the south-bound mission. That was the one weakness of the Guild courier system. Mail and other parcels traveled with Wayfarers headed in the right direction, but sometimes they had to sit a while waiting for someone headed to their destination. Kaz thought there ought to be a way to make the system more reliable and he resolved to think about it. In the meantime, he was perfectly happy that this once it had worked out in his favor.

The document was sealed, as was mandated by Guild regulations, so Kaz could not change it, but this way at least he would be arriving in Palendo City at the same time he did and Chanya would see that he was well before reading of his foolishness during the battle. As it turned out, however, Chanya never read the report.

“Kaz!” she called out even as he stepped through the front door of the Palendo City Guild hall. “We’ve been waiting on your return.”

“And here I am,” Kaz replied with a theatrical bow.

“And about time,” Chanya replied tartly. “Come into the office and meet our replacement.”

Kaz followed her to find a Corisan looking woman sitting at the desk, taking notes on a series of reports. She was not tall, being several inches shorter than Kaz and she kept her straight black hair tied back. Epicathic folds made her eyes look slanted and she wore a pair of iron-rimmed eyeglasses with small round lenses. Her glasses were what caught Kaz’s attention. While such devices to enhance vision were common enough in Taundon and the Northern Continent, but he had seen very few pairs here in the west where they were far more expensive, being that nearly all had been imported from mainland Crace and the Green Lands.

“Are you Corisan?” Kaz asked before Chanya had a chance to introduce them.

“I am a Wayfarer, sir,” she responded firmly.

“Fair enough,” Kaz nodded. “I guess what I meant was…”

“I know what you meant,” she stopped him, “and I am perhaps too sensitive when that question is voiced. I apologize.”

“No, if anyone is owed an apology it is you,” Kaz replied. “I’m sorry. I visited Corisa some years ago when I was a child. The High King, Mu Feng, is a friend of mine.”

“How unusual,” the woman replied. “I doubt His Divine Imperial Majesty would even deign to look on this dishonored one.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Kaz chuckled. “Mu Feng is a humble and self-effacing man. I didn’t even know he was the king when we first met. If you ever spent any time in the markets of Ranyang you might even have seen him. He likes to slip out of the palace in common clothing and go shopping as anyone might.”

“I have never been in Ranyang,” she replied. “I was born in a small village in Zhenchi Province near the northeastern border of Makret. My name is Fang Hua, by the way and I assume you are the famous Kazani Bassan.”

“I am, but I think you give me too much credit,” Kaz replied.

“I do not,” Hua replied, “but perhaps those who speak of you do.” She smiled and added, “you know how Wayfarers love to gossip. Anyway, word came down the line that this hall needed a new master and Master Bato in Rio Rojo sent me to fill in on a probationary basis.”

“Well, I am certainly glad to see you,” Kaz smiled. “Chanya and I have been stuck here for five weeks since Raff and Em Cawlens left us here with orders to follow along as soon as possible. I suppose I should give you my report, right?”

“That does seem the usual way, but as I am still being briefed on this job, I suppose that will be part of the briefing,” Hua replied. “Oh I recognize the look in your eyes all too well. You want to know what a nice girl like me is doing in a place like this. Right?”

“Well I didn’t want to be rude again,” Kaz admitted, but I would be interested in knowing know a Corisan…”

“You mean a Corisan woman?” Hua asked pointedly.

“How a Corisan of any gender,” Kax disagreed, “came to be here. The male Wayfarers are all inducted into the priestly order.”

“And the few women who are caught with the talent are murdered,” Hua finished the thought. She sighed and continued, “When I discovered my power, I was ten years old. My father wanted to turn me into the priests immediately. Girl children are of no value in Corisan society and having the abilities of a Wayfarer made me a witch in all men’s eyes. My mother somehow talked him out of it the first time it came up and I tried to behave as though I was an ordinary girl. Inside a stability that is not usually too hard, but as you know, in times of stress one might use the power without thinking about it.

“I was discovered one day about a month after my mother managed to keep my father from giving me up for destruction,” Hua went on. “There was a man painting his house and the ladder fell out from under him. I reached out with my mind and caught him. I didn’t do it very well and he broke his leg. I was blamed for that, of course, and my secret was known to the whole village. Mother took me that night and we ran away. She had grown up in another village and knew that someone with the abilities could see and follow a path. She did not realize that it took training and neither did I, but somehow we managed to get over the border and into Makret. Female Wayfarers are not actually illegal there, just not highly thought of and the Gyel is not as blind to the value of a female Wayfarer as some of his predecessors. We were told that we were welcome to stay in Makret but as women without relatives our prospects were slight.

“But we were given a chance to be taken further south into Salasia where there was a Wayfarer’s Guildhall in Taarank. Our party was attacked by bandits on the way to Taarank and Mother died, but I made it safely and was made a ward of the Guild. I showed some promise and was eventually shipped off for schooling in Carais, Crace. Since graduating, I have been moving around between various Cracian settlements here and on the Northern and Southern continents.”

“I know how that is,” Chanya laughed. “My schooling was in the Green Lands and most of the time I find myself going back and forth between there and Varana. If they were keeping me in Grundish colonies, you might think they would send me to the Southern Continent too sometimes. I was born and raised there and yet I have only been home twice since graduation.”

“The Guild does not seem to think that way even for masters,” Hua replied. “It is probably because so many of the so-called masters of the halls are really only journeyman-class Wayfarers and cannot work more than a regular route themselves. They forget that true masters by ability are more flexible that way. Still, after all this moving around for the last few years, I think it will be nice to just sit still for a change.”

“You’re welcome to it,” Kaz told her. “I was stuck in Central Guildhall during most of my apprenticeship and the entire time I was a journeyman except for a few trips with Raff and Em. Now that I’m out of there I hope I can stay on the road.”

“You won’t though, Kaz,” Chanya told him. “You’re being groomed for leadership. You may be Guildmaster one day.”

“Oh God, I hope not!” Kaz swore. “I want to be a freelancer like Raff and Em and travel all over the world.”

“And yet they now run the Guild, do they not?” Hua countered. “I think Chanya here is correct, you will be expected to lead one day. Perhaps not the whole Guild , but a major hall at least or perhaps it is time to reorganize the Guild and establish regional Guild-masters.”

“We have those now,” Kaz pointed out.

“No,” Hua disagreed. “You have the senior masters in each nation’s capital expecting reports from the other halls which then get sent on to Taundon. What I have in mind is to establish still larger regions, maybe whole continents with a regional Guildmaster.”

“And still more but smaller versions of Central Guildhall?” Kaz asked. “We’ll all be bogged down in paperwork until we die under it.”

“No, not regional guildhalls, just regional guildmasters, going from hall to hall and making sure it all runs. Guildmaster Cawlens was right to make sure that all masters get out of their halls at least once a year. I think we need more master-class Wayfarers out in the Wild and I think this idea might encourage that.”

“You should suggest it formally,” Kaz told her.

“I am working on it,” Hua nodded, “but until now I have been almost constantly on the move. It is difficult to write such a proposal under such circumstances. Perhaps now I will find the time.”

“Running a Guildhall takes up even more time than guiding travelers,” Chanya warned her. “If you want to make the proposal, you have to make the time to write it, otherwise all your waking hours will be spent running this hall.”

“Sounds horrible when you put it that way,” Hua smiled.

“No, just a different sort of work,” Chanya told her. “Now we’ll spend another two days bringing you up to speed and by then you’ll have more training than we had. After that we need to rejoin Raff and Emblem.

Eight

Raff and Emblem sat on a large blanket near the edge of a wide ridge overlooking del Humo from the northwest, enjoying what under another circumstance might be called a picnic lunch. A non-Wayfarer might not credit it, but they were both working hard even though they just seemed to be walking around. However, the choice and placement of a new settlement was an important matter to consider and while one could just establish one anywhere you chose to gather enough people, the best practice was to survey an area for a number of factors. The ability of the local soil to grow the expected crops was important as was geographical location and the availability of potable water, but while Raff and Em were taking note of all that, they were also studying the flow of Wild energy in the area and testing its effects on sample Stabilities they created.

“Well, if they build up on this ridge,” Raff commented, “I think the stability will stay still and not move at all. From a Wild point of view this is as “level” as a site can get.” Level, in Wayfarer terms, meant that a stability would stay in the place it was created unless acted on by an outside force. As the main portion of del Humo grew that might change and smaller nearby settlements would start to move in full or partial orbit around it, but there was a chance del Humo would never grow into a big city of that sort and there really was no way to predict whether the city would grow, although if the original city plan was adhered to then Raff could make some educated guesses.

“Level it may be from a Wild standpoint,” Em remarked, “but settlers will be doing a lot of leveling of the other sort to make sure their floors do not slope, and I do not like the look at that.” She pointed to her left.

Raff followed her gaze and realize that something had been bothering him about this site as well. “Looks like an old landslide,” he opined, “or maybe a mudslide from a rainy season sometime in the last few years.”

“That is what I was thinking,” Em agreed with an empahtic nod, “and look a little further along the ridge. See that notch? Doesn’t it seem a bit sharper than the other features around here?”

“Earthquake damage?” Raff wondered. “We know the area is fairly active. There have been several small tremors since we arrived, but if we refused to let people settle where a quake was possible there would hardly be any cities at all. We exist in a living world that frequently wakes up cranky.”

“Sounds a bit like you, dear,” Em smiled.

“We have our points of commonality,” he shrugged. “Look over there,” he pointed behind her. “It’s another old slide, I think. Much older than the one you spotted or we might have noticed when we walked over it. That might actually be two old slides, one mostly on top of the other, though the only way to know for certain would be to dig into it like a geologist and we haven’t the time for that.”

“It doesn’t look like it happens every year, though,” Em commented, “maybe once in a decade, once in a generation, maybe. Settlers would want to look into retaining walls to reinforce formations that seem unstable and maybe plant vegetation with stronger root systems.”

“Not sure about the plants,” Raff replied. “This land is very arid most of the year. If these slides are caused by rainfall, most plants that could act as a deterrent won’t survive the dry season and they would have to be planted outside the Stability so we could not rely on locals keeping them watered. Walls are a good idea and some potential slides might be diverted. If it is due to earthquakes the walls might help or not, depending on how strong the quake is, I think. To tell the truth I’ve never lived in an area with a lot of tremors. Visiting such areas does not really count.”

“This whole coast is prone to quakes,” Em replied, “and it doesn’t seem to have stopped anyone so far. I am told that volcanos are plentiful to the north and west, but then there are many to the south as well and many people live near such hazards on other continents as well. We can note our concerns, but our main job is to make sure a new settlement will not move around too much. I must admit, though, that I like that area below us much better. There is a broad, although level shelf of land. It will be easier to farm and to build on.”

“Downhill from the slides?” Raff asked.

“Looks to me like all the traces of such events go to either side of that area,” Em observed. “It might just mean it is due to be next, of course, but I have a good feeling about it. It is a bit lower in altitude by maybe two hundred feet and if the plants are any indication, I think there is more moisture in the soil. It probably runs down slope to there.”

“All right,” Raff nodded. “We can finish up here, since this was the primary site we were asked to survey, then tomorrow morning we can take a look down there. If nothing else it is on our way back to del Humo.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon on the same ridge and finally decided that the water table was too deep. “I’ve seen deeper wells, but no one would thank us for this site if it turns out one less than half a mile away and a couple hundred feet down slope had a higher water table.”

“We still have two hours before sunset,” Em pointed out. “Let’s move down slope and make camp on the other site tonight.”

With two hours to spare, they could have actually just gone back to town, but Emblem knew Raff was always at his most relaxed while in the Wild, so after they had their tent set up, she let him collect wood for a fire while she prepared dinner which was really just pulling out more of what they had eaten earlier.

Later they sat by the fire, enjoying a rare moment when not only were they alone, but had nothing else to do but cuddle and chat. “I wonder why fire doesn’t behave differently in the Wild,” Em remarked after a while.

“The energy released in fire is mostly neither stable nor Wild,” Raff replied. “Why should it behave differently?”

“Neither stable nor Wild?” Em asked.

“Sure, not all energy is one or the other. Most of the energy released in a fire, according to what I learned back in school is heat. Light is another form of neutral energy, at least according to some theories. Others claim light is made up of extremely small particles. I’m no expert on that, of course, so I generally just listen politely,” Raff admitted.

“You have generally been more interested than I in all types of scientific research,” Em admitted. “My interests center on the whys and hows of Wayfaring.”

“I know, dear,” Raff smiled gently, “but as I have told you, I think it all connects in one way or another even if sometimes we cannot see the connections. Our studies into Wayfaring and other forms of Wild energy manipulation are a specialty, but there is no reason not to at least be aware of other scientific fields and it is a good idea to be at least conversant in the basics of each one. So much of what you and I have contributed with Rojer Harkermor has been interdisciplinary in nature. Rojer is primarily a physicist, but Wayfaring has aspects other than simple energy and force vectors. Of course, that is another reason why we attend scientific conferences like The Shape of the World. It’s the best way to hear what others are doing.”

“I agree,” Em admitted, “but I just cannot get interested in so much of the minutiae of those other disciplines. It’s fine for you, but I would be just as happy reading a good history or a work of fiction.”

“You’re like Kaz that way,” Raff nodded. “He’s always loved a good story. I think that’s why he studies so much history when he has the chance.”

“I thought he was interested in the physical aspects of Wayfaring,” Em commented.

“That too,” Raff chuckled. “Once we convinced him that learning was a good thing, he’s shown a lot of interest in almost everything. I wonder what he’s doing right now.”

“By now?” Em laughed. “If he is not on his way with Chanya to meet us here, he is likely to be banging his head on his desk in boredom and frustration.”

“Unless, no that wouldn’t fit,” Raff shook his head.

“Unless what?”

“No, nothing to worry about,” Raff replied, but when Emblem stiffened in his arms he went on. “I was just thinking that we have found neither d’Alere nor Huile. Maybe they went back to Palendo City.”

“I hope not,” Em shuddered. “We’re looking for those two, but Kaz and Chanya think they are long gone.”

“I would not count on that,” Raff shook his head. “Kaz is likely to have his eyes open, besides I seriously doubt either Huile or d’Alere would risk running into us on the way.”

“I do not truly know this d’Alere,” Em decided, “but we have encountered Huile too often. He likes to set up the traps. He does not want to actually be there when you trip them, though. He would come back later to pick up the pieces.”

“I wish I knew where those two are, though,” Raff commented. “Either or both might have been in one of the towns between here and Santa Cecilia, just watching us pass through. After that it would have been safe to go back anywhere they desired.”

“I do not think that is the case,” Em told him. “d’Alere came this way for a reason. Del Humo is not quite a dead end, but until you get to Maska, over a thousand miles to the north and west, there are only a few small settlements and however many native villages there are in these parts. It is strange that we did not come across native paths on the way here.”

“The natives between here and Palendo City were either absorbed into the Cracian colonies, as second-class citizens to be sure, but absorbed, or else they were driven away,” Raff pointed out. “To the north of here, I believe the natives are doing well and trading at those posts we heard about the other day. Oh, and did you know that Kharaskva has a settlement between here and Maska?”

“I did,” Em nodded. “It is almost one thousand miles from here, though. You weren’t planning to stop in up there for a visit, were you?”

“Planning, no,” Raff denied, “but for all we know that may be where d’Alere is headed.”

“Why would he go there?” Em asked.

“Why did he go to Carondelet?” Raff countered.

“That was regular Guild business,” Em pointed out. “He left before learning that Keith had failed in New Farrington. He was just going about his normal business. Until he returned to New Carais, he had no idea we were following him.”

“And since then he has led us on a merry chase,” Raff grumbled. “I doubt either of his former confederates, Canadella and Canzone were particularly happy to find him and his toady on their doorsteps. That might even be why he kept moving. They didn’t want him anywhere around.”

“Yes, but look what happened to those two when they tried to stand their ground,” Em pointed out.

“They were hall masters,” Raff replied, “d’Alere ought to be a Freelancer except he has never managed to pay off his indentures to the Guild.”

“That’s unusual,” Em noted. “Nearly all masters manage to pay off their debts by the time they are his age.”

“He had too many fines on his ledger,” Raff pointed out. “If he had not had friends in high places he would have been drummed out long ago. I’ve already sent recommendations back to Pauls in Taundon to start going through the records and look for similar cases. We don’t want people like d’Alere in the Guild.”

“How many more could there be?” Em replied. “Too many and the Guild would be in total disrepute.”

“Even one is too many,” Raff replied. “In my report, I formally declared d’Alere to be banned from all Guildhalls and that his rank stripped and any remaining funds to be confiscated, although that last is probably only to the tune of whatever he has not yet collected, but aside from the halls in Palendo and Lorendo, no one will know of that yet. The report should be arriving in Taundon any time now, but it could take months, no, years before the word gets to every hall.”

“Did you ban Huile as well?” Em asked.

“I over-looked that one, unfortunately,” Raff sighed, “but we can rectify that when we get back to del Humo. D’Alere still worries me more than Huile, though. Huile is just a toady following his master, but d’Alere seems to know what he is doing. There is nowhere to go from here. No side path branches, no inland settlements yet, but there has to be a reason he came to Lorendo. Either there is something he needs here or he is going to meet someone.”

“Or he could just be leading us into a series of traps,” Em pointed out. “We got taken unawares by Canzone and Canadella. And that barroom brawl you got caught up in in Puerto Puzo.”

“That was Huile’s work,” Raff corrected her. “Sure he was working on d’Alere’s behalf, but there was no way he could have planned for Kaz and me to be in that place at that time. He just took advantage of the situation. For that matter how certain are we that d’Alere actually came this way?”

“Canadella’s records clearly showed the assignment bringing him to del Humo,” Em replied. “I doubt that was faked. Canadella expected to kill us.”

“But did d’Alere do as he was told?” Raff asked and answered for himself, “Oh, he probably did, but unless he turns up by the time Kaz and Chanya catch up to us, we’ll have to give up the chase and return to Taundon. “We did not expect to be gone for more than two or three months, you may recall.”

“For now, we have promised to survey this site,” Em reminded him. “Let’s get some sleep and in the morning we can have a look around on this plateau. I doubt it will take all day to evaluate it.”

Em turned out to be correct. In the morning they very quickly discovered that not only was the water table higher in this location, but the area featured two seasonal streams that while dry in the summer season had obviously been full the preceding spring. The soil seemed richer, although Em carefully prepared several samples to take back into town for further study and they spotted plenty of deer, rabbits and other game as they walked around the area. Finally, Raff checked for the levelness of a stability.

He concentrated and formed a small dome enclosing a stable area about an acre in size and then placed several markers just outside its perimeter. Then he and Em sat back to watch it. And hour later he decided, “Not bad. It hasn’t moved more than an inch as seen from the outside and actually it only swayed a bit. If there is a prevailing direction of drift, I cannot see it. Good. I think this should be our recommended site. Glad you spotted it dear. I doubt I would have noticed.”

“What about those land or mudslides?” Em reminded him.

“I think that is a danger anywhere around here in the wet season,” Raff told her. “And this spot seems less affected than some. We’ll put that in the report as well, though. In the end it will be up to the settlers where they want to live. All we can do is make recommendations.”

“Did you see the paths?” Em asked.

“I was too busy watching the Stability,” Raff remarked. “Did you say ‘paths,’ as in more than one?”

“Yes, there is a standard Guild-style path just along the edge of the plateau and there is a different sort of path, I think it is a native-created one coming in from the northeast. I know we had noticed a lack of indigenous pathways, but I guess this is the beginning of where the indigenes travel. It’s a good place for a settlement. The people will be able to trade with both del Humo and the natives.”

“Even better,” Raff nodded. “Let’s go back and make our recommendations.”

Raff and Em mounted their horses and started back to the local Guildhall. They had just entered del Humo when four rough-looking men appeared on their right and started running toward them, guns and clubs in hand. Raff quickly knocked them out even as he and Em heard the whistles of approaching constables. That was the last sight or sound they were aware of for a while.

Nine

For a change, Raff recovered faster than Em did. He recognized the room he was in as the one in which he had been assigned in the del Humo Guildhall. “What hit me?” he groaned out loud and silently decided it must have been a poorly delivered force-thrust. Someone had tried to kill him and Em. Merely falling from the horse might have been fatal, though he appeared to have suffered nothing more than a set of bruises although when he sat up, his right leg hurt much more than it had while he was still on his back.

He worried about what may have happened to Emblem, but almost immediately realized, without even having to look, that she was still sleeping in the bed beside him. He turned painfully to look at her and saw she had managed to collect a black eye but that no one had seen fit to splint any broken bones, so she was probably as intact as he was. He also checked her Wild energy levels. She had a bit more Wild within her than was normal, but he could see she was naturally achieving her own balance with it. She would recover naturally so he decided to let her sleep and that his first priority was to see if he could walk on the painful leg.

Standing on his left leg, he carefully tried his weight, just a little at first and then more, on his right. It was not comfortable, and he was going to limp for a few days, but he could move under his own power. He noted that no one had undressed him, but while he knew he needed to get cleaned up, he was more interested in knowing what had happened, so he limped and stumbled out of his room.

The leg hurt too much to get very far so, when he spotted a young apprentice in the hallway, he told the boy, “Find me a cane or something like it, lad.”

“Yes, Guildmaster,” the apprentice nodded and rushed off.

Getting downstairs to where the hallmaster kept his office was a challenge, but keeping his hands gripped on the rails on either side of the narrow staircase, Raff managed to get to the bottom without falling. There was a table just a few steps from the foot of the stairs, however and Raff decided that was as far as he was going to get for a while, so he sat down and called for both breakfast and Master Perez y Cajal, in that order.

“Sir,” the apprentice Raff had met upstairs told him, “The Hallmaster is not in at the moment, but I found a cane for you.”

“Thank you, uh…”

“Pietro, sir,” the apprentice supplied his name.

“Pietro,” Raff nodded. “Thank you. Any idea of where he is?”

“No sir,” Pietro shook his head. “He was very upset when you and Master L’Oranne Cawlens were brought back and he left the hall at dawn. Sir?”

Raff was suspicious. This would hardly be the first time a supposedly loyal hallmaster had back-stabbed him, but he noticed the apprentice was waiting for him. “Yes, Pietro?”

“The cane, sir. Is it the right size?” Pietro asked. “My father uses one and I know that exact length is important.”

“It is,” Raff agreed, then remembered his convalescence in Semlari. He had been forced to use a cane there as well. He got back to his feet and tried the implement out and decided, “It could be about an inch shorter, but I can manage.”

“No, sir,” Pietro told him, reaching for the cane. “I will have it shortened immediately. It will only take a few minutes,” Raff let him have the cane and then settled back as his breakfast arrived. He was just finishing it when Pietro returned with both the cane and Hector Perez y Cajal.

“I know what you’re thinking, Raff,” Hector said by way of greeting.

Raff’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly. He had never mastered the one eyebrow thing that Em did so well, but he was suspicious of everyone and after his experiences in San Jorge and Palendo City he was suspicious of any hall master he had never met previously. “Do you?” he asked.

“You are thinking that I set you up,” Hector replied. “You suspect I had those men watching for you so they could attack and kill you on your return.”

“And so you could use them as a distraction while you shot a force thrust at our backs,” Raff finished the thought.

“My friend,” Hector shook his head. “I am not that good. I have never been able to summon the Wild inside a Stability, not even to make a Wayfarer’s lamp.” A Wayfarer’s lamp was a handy trick and in the Wild almost any Wayfarer could cause a small patch of light to appear at will. It was considerably more difficult inside a Stability and only an accomplished Wayfarer, usually one of master rank, could achieve such a thing. Raff forced himself to remember that most of the masters running halls were journeymen by talent only, but for each journeyman who could run a hall, a master was freed up to do the sort of work they were most needed for in the Wild.

“Someone is that good, although they were probably too far away to be effective,” Raff replied. Then he realized why Hector could not have had him and Emblem ambushed. “Then again, why are we still alive?”

“There were a pair of constables patrolling just a half a block away at the time of the incident,” Hector explained. “You may have been too busy to notice them.”

“Definitely whoever attacked us was,” Raff shrugged and then recalled, “Oh yes, I think I remember hearing the whistles. So they brought us here?”

“They carried you back to their post,” Hector replied. “I went out with several apprentices to retrieve you. One of the boys is pretty good at infusing stability back into people, but it turned out he was not needed. From the way it looked, you were doing that for yourself, so we brought you and your wife back here and put you in bed.”

“How long was I out?” Raff asked.

“Only overnight,” Hector replied. “Certainly not long enough for concern.”

“I want to revisit the site where we were attacked,” Raff told him. “I want to see if our assailant left a trail I can follow.”

“Good idea,” Emblem told him as she came down the stairs assisted by Francesca Ramirez.

“You’re looking a little shaky, this morning,” Raff observed.

“I’m a little stiff,” she admitted. “I’ll loosen up after a mile or two. At least I don’t have to use a cane.”

“I seem to have twisted my ankle,” Raff told her. “I know. I ought to stop doing that.”

“Not a bad idea,” Em nodded, “although I do not recall you actually twisting your ankle in the past. What is that you are eating?”

“Hmm?” Raff looked down at his plate and realized he had eaten his breakfast without actually paying attention to what it was or even when it had arrived. “Breakfast.”

“Only because it is your first meal of the day,” she smirked. “If it was not a filet of old boot,” she told a nearby apprentice, “please bring me a plate of the same and a cup of tea if you do not mind.”

“I’ll get that for you,” Francesca volunteered immediately.

“You appear to have picked up another protégée, Em,” Raff observed.

“Another?” Em asked.

“First Chanya and now Francesca,” Raff amplified.

“I doubt we shall be here long enough for her to be considered a protégée,” Em replied. “I am the closest thing she has to an old friend in the hall. We are the only women here, so until she gets to know the men, I am sort of like a blanket a young child might carry for comfort. I will see to it that she gets to know the others before we must leave.”

“Like I said,” Raff nodded, “a protégée. No doubt you will keep in contact by post as well.”

“Perhaps,” Em nodded. “Now what do you hope to find when we return to the scene of our ambush?”

Raff answered that question less than an hour later. “That trail,” he pointed. “See how more distinct it is?”

“A Wayfarer’s trail, I should think,” Em replied.

“I see it as well,” Francesca told them. She had insisted on accompanying Emblem on the premise that the great lady was not entirely healthy and might need her assistance. Raff had managed to accept that with a straight face.

“You see it?” Raff half-asked. “That’s very good.”

“Thank you,” Francesca nodded, “but why do you think it is the trail of a Wayfarer?”

“All humans leave a trail of stability in their wake,” Em explained. “It is normally a very faint trail that disappears in a few hours. Perhaps it will last a day or so and a Wayfarer of potentially master rank can see and follow such trails. To an extent, they are like the paths we followed to come to del Humo, except that those paths were intentionally created by master Wayfarers and much more stable energy was put into them so that they will last. In time, if such paths are unused, even those will dissipate, but normal usage of a path will usually be enough to maintain them.

“Inside a stability, paths dissolve even faster,” Em continued. “Stable energy just tends to even out, I suppose, but Wayfarers usually have a stronger aura than non-Wayfarers so the paths they leave tend to stand out more. Now, like I said, a good wayfarer can erase his path, merely by encouraging the stable energy to dissipate as he goes, but that takes conscious thought and we do not normally bother. It looks like whoever left this trail did not bother as well.”

“And he was in a hurry,” Raff commented, adding, “With experience, you can tell how fast a person was moving. In this case the spot he ambushed us from is more distinct than the trail that leads from it.”

“Not by much,” Francesca observed. “I think I can see them both getting dimmer as we watch.”

“Maybe you can,” Raff agreed, “but these will still be around for a few hours yet. But you can see that the trail leading away is lighter? Well, if you had seen enough such trails you could tell the one who left this one was running away.”

“Are the slightly brighter spots where his feet came down?” Francesca asked.

“Yes,” Raff nodded. “If he had been walking, the path would barely waver at all by now, but when running the feet landed further apart where they touched the ground compared to the trail he left on his way to this spot.”

“How do you know it was not the other way around?” she persisted. “Could he have run here and then walked away?”

“That is where experience comes in again,” Raff told her. “I have a knack for being able to almost feel which direction someone went in. He definitely went that way and was running when he did.”

“How do you know it was a man and not a woman?” Francesca asked. “Is that different too?”

“I’m making an educated guess,” Raff admitted. “There are relatively few female Wayfarers, not because any fewer women than men have the ability, but because most are never trained, so more often than not if you are looking for a Wayfarer he will be a man. I suppose it could have been a woman, but so far as I know there have been no female Wayfarers involved with the people we are trying to find. Well, the trail is not getting any warmer. Let’s see where this one goes.”

“Wait,” Francesca stopped him. “I see other strong trails over there.”

Raff looked in the direction she was pointing and chuckled, “Those two are ours. Here, let’s step across the street and I’ll show you.” Raff led the way and then instructed Francesca, “Compare my aura to this trail. Now compare Em’s to the other one.”

“I see,” Francesca nodded. “They look alike, don’t they? Is this how you found me?”

“It is, yes,” Raff nodded. “That’s why we had your shoes with us. It turned out that we did not actually need to carry them with us, but they gave us something to look back at in case your trail got obscured by someone else’s.”

“I see,” Francesca nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Raff asked.

“You could have just said it’s a master thing and moved on to follow the trail of your attacker,” Francesca explained. “I would have accepted that, of course, but instead you took the time to explain what you were looking for and even showed me a little of how to do it.”

“Francesca,” Raff replied, “Em and I believe you have a lot of potential as a Wayfarer. At the very least you have expressed an interest in being the local agent for your home town, but I think you’ll find that the more you learn about being a Wayfarer, the more you will want to learn. You can still be a hall master if that is what you want, but if you can follow a trail in a stability, you can probably also learn to create new paths in the Wild. There are more people coming to this part of the world every year and we are going to need more paths and definitely need more local masters to build and maintain them. I suspect you will be out on the road as much as you are at home, but even if you never leave your home village again, what you learn about following a trail is going to come in handy in so many ways. Just wait and see.”

They continued to discuss the uses for that aspect of Wayfaring as they followed the trail of the man who had attacked Raff and Em. The trail itself ran off in a straight line for nearly a quarter of a mile after taking the very first turn. By then even Francesca could see that the man had stopped running after the first few blocks and said as much.

“Actually,” Em corrected her, “he stopped running as soon as he took that first turn. Running would have called attention to himself, so he was merely walking briskly as anyone might do. I have often thought I could see emotions in a trail as well. That is more difficult but some Wayfarers have the abilities to read a person’s emotions and can tell when a person is telling the truth.”

“You can do that?” Francesca asked in awe.

“It is not always as useful as you might think,” Em shrugged it off. “People fool themselves in a thousand little ways. There are some who lie so constantly they don’t know what the truth is themselves. If a person believes his own lies, it looks like the truth. That is why truth-telling is not admissible as evidence in court.”

“But how does it work?” Francesca asked.

“There are constant and subtle changes to a person’s aura as they think, act, eat, speak and so on,” Em told her. “If one has the ability to see those changes, they can learn to interpret them.”

“Em, here is one of the best,” Raff told Francesca. “I can’t do it to save my life, but then I generally do not need to. There are other ways to tell you’re being lied to. When someone tells you something you know isn’t so, it is pretty obvious. When they can’t look you in the eyes, they are either shy beyond words or more likely don’t believe what they are saying themselves. As you get to know people, you figure out whether you can trust them and what they tell you. I make mistakes that way too, but nothing is perfect.”

“Em,” Raff went on, “do you see something in this trail we need to know about?”

“I do not think it is all that useful,” Em replied. “I might even be fooling myself, especially on a trail that is not fresh. However, it seems to me that at first the man who left this trail was nervous, not quite frightened but certainly uncomfortable with his situation.”

“I could have guessed that,” Raff laughed. “He nearly got caught by the local police. He probably could have fought them off – we could, after all – but there were witnesses as well. I recall at least a dozen people going about their business as we rode back into town. He might have gotten away from the constables, but there were too many people who would have been able to recognize him if he did. As he got farther and farther away from the scene his confidence came back to him, right? By this point of the trail, he was probably thinking coolly again, feeling safe and planning what to do next. See, the trail ends here. He decided he might be followed and took steps to erase the signs of his passage.”

“So that’s it then?” Francesca asked.

“Hardly!” Em told her. “This just makes it harder, but he can’t keep erasing his trail forever. Anything that breaks his concentration will work to our benefit. The odds are, however, he changed direction, if not here exactly then fairly shortly after he moved away. Let’s spread out. I’ll go across the street, Francesca come with me. Raff you stay on this side.”

“Right,” Raff nodded. “I doubt he back-tracked on this side of the street. He would have cancelled out his trail earlier, but he might have turned around over there. This looks like a mostly residential neighborhood, but check the shops and look around the back doors in case he tried going out someone’s back door. We’ll spiral out from here until we find his trail again.

They spent the next hour moving slowly away from the spot where the trail had ended. It was Francesca who spotted the first trace of the assailant’s trail after that. It was just a step long, but enough for Raff to go on. Fifteen minutes later they found the trail once more coming out of an inn in the harbor district. The trail was side-by-side with another one that was too familiar to Raff and Em. “Whoever it is, he and Huile are together.”

“Imagine my lack of surprise,” Raff growled. “I’m willing to bet the one who attacked us was d’Alere then.”

They continued to follow the dual trail down to one of the docks where d’Alere’s trail, if it was his, appeared to climb up into the air and then head out to sea. Huile’s trail headed back into town, but Raff’s attention was on the other trail and his eyes followed it seaward.

“That ship,” Raff pointed to the west, “nearly at the horizon. Damn! Let’s get back to the Guildhall and find out where she is headed.”

“And when the next ship is going that way as well,” Em replied. “At least we know it wasn’t Hiule, but maybe we ought to follow his trail first. I’m tired of that little snake.”

“You’re right,” Raff agreed, “and this trail isn’t more than two hours old. It is probably younger, in fact.” A few minutes later, however they realized the trail was headed directly for the central plaza and the Guildhall itself. They hurried forward and were nearly taken by surprise as they ran through the hall’s front door. The shot of a rifle thundered at them, but Raff had not been entirely unprepared. He reached out with the available wisps of Wild energy and pushed the bullet up and away. Then he turned to see Huile casting a force thrust at the three of them.

“You!” Francesca screamed as she stepped in front of Raff and Em, blocking their own abilities to fight back. To everyone’s surprise, however, Francesca “caught” the Wild energy of Huile’s thrust and molded it into a brilliant sphere of what looked like ball lightning which she threw right back at the startled Sansom Huile. The snapping and crackling ball flew from Francesca’s fingertips and blew straight through Huile’s body, leaving it a lifeless and charred hulk before it hit the floor.

The ball lightning continued on toward the far wall, but Raff reached out with his mind and quickly extinguished it before it could do more than badly char the wood and plaster. “Well,” he remarked far more lightly than he felt, “that was different.”

“Guildmaster!” one of the apprentices called weakly from Hector’s office. It was then that Raff and Em realized there was no one else in the front room of the hall. “Help, please!”

All three rushed into the hallmaster’s office to find hector lying on the floor with a pool of blood forming around his head. The apprentice who had gotten their attention was also bleeding and his shirt had a large red stain soaking down from his shoulder where there was a dark hold in his shirt. “That man,” he told them as Em rushed to look at Hector, “he just came in and shot at Master Perez.”

“Looks like he hit you instead,” Raff observed. “Was he that bad a shot.”

“I, uh,” the apprentice winced at a flash of pain. “I…”

“He stepped in front of the gun to save Master Perez,” Francesca figured it out. “You are a brave man,” she told him, a wry smile on her face, “and very stupid too. Sit down and let’s see how bad it is. Looks like you’re about to faint anyway.” The apprentice nodded, sat down and then he did faint. “Men!” Francesca sighed and started removing the young man’s shirt for a better look at his shoulder. “At least he sat down first.”

“How is he?” Raff asked. He meant about Hector, but Francesca answered first.

“Very lucky,” she replied. “It is really just a deep gouge under his upper arm.”

“Hector is breathing,” Em gave Raff the report he wanted. “I’m worried about a concussion, though, it looks like he was struck on the head.”

“Huile probably hit him after he used up his one shot,” Raff replied.

“Why didn’t he use the sort of attack he did on us instead?” Francesca asked as she looked around for something to clean the apprentice’s wound with. She found a towel on a counter and a pitcher of water on the hallmaster’s desk and returned to the apprentice’s side.

“Not everyone can do that sort of thing on a moment’s notice,” Raff replied, retrieving the pitcher and handing it to Em. “It would have been faster to just hit him with the gun at that point. Em’s going to need half of that rag. He reached for bloodied towel and tried to tear it in half. It was too strong to just tear by hand, but he used a bit of Wild energy and it was cut cleanly. He handed half back to Francesca and considered that what he had just done could have been done offensively. He had never tried such a narrow force thrust against an opponent, but decided he would rather never have to try. Even so, he filed it away in his mind as he gave Em the other half of the towel.

The Way to Rathan Jar

One

“I do not know if he chose his moment well,” Hector told Raff the next morning, “or if he just got lucky, but he came in when only Fellipe and I were in the hall.” Hector had experienced a rough evening but Em’s healing skills combined with that of a local physician pulled him through. Now he was alert and unwilling to just spend the whole day in bed as had been recommended.

“Any idea of why he even came here?” Raff wondered. “We only arrived when we did because we were following his trail back up from the harbor.” He went on to explain what they had seen and done.

“He came, I think, to destroy the passenger list from the ship that had just sailed,” Hector replied, “or so I believe since it is that report that is missing.”

“What is the name of that ship?” Raff asked, “and do you recall the list of passengers at all?”

“Easy, my friend,” Hector told him, calmly. “I read the report and have the talent of seeing words. The information is not lost. The ship is the Rachel, a vessel of Dixan registry. She is bound for Hillena by way of the Friendship Islands on the far side of the Bright Ocean.”

“And was Julian d’Alere on board?” Raff asked.

“The only paying passenger that was reported was a Michel Roue,” Hector replied, “although he had supposedly arrived from Palendo City at roughly the time your d’Alere should have, he was seen entering del Humo from the north. Now that I think about it, there was a party of travelers a few weeks ago who were left at a small village a few days from here when their Wayfarer claimed to have received an emergency summons taking him elsewhere. They arrived a week later than they should have when the next party came through. If this Roue is d’Alere he might have left them there and then circled del Humo to arrive from the opposite direction.

“Whoever he is,” Hector continued, “he never checked in at the hall and I had too many other matters on my mind to chase him down.”

“We all do,” Raff replied, “and I don’t blame you. We do not guard the borders like a customs service and ask for travelers’ passports. Individuals who have the talent frequently make their own ways along our paths. Since very few of them can find more than one or two towns it has never been an issue and we do not make the natives check in when they come to trade either.”

“The colonial government does,” Hector replied.

“We are not the colonial government,” Raff replied.

“They would like to hold us responsible for tracking anyone travelling between Stabilities,” Hector told him.

“I’m sure they would,” Raff laughed, “but that’s not what we do. We send copies of our journey reports so they see we are not smuggling people or goods, but it is up to them to check cargos and passports if they care to collect taxes and other fees. If they want to, let them set up customs booths at the edges of towns or at the end of wharves. We won’t protest. It’s their prerogative to do so.”

“Some of our more enterprising Wayfarers might object to having to declare their own personal cargos,” Hector pointed out.

“They are required to anyway,” Raff replied. “The Guild does not countenance smuggling on the part of its members. So, when is the next ship due to leave for Hillena?”

Hector laughed sourly, “Had you asked me two weeks ago I would have said I hadn’t heard of any ships leaving for Hillena or any other place on that side of the bright Ocean. The usual trade route runs around the extremity of the Southern Continent. The ships that come here hug the coast and if they plan to go back to Crace, they cross the Dark Ocean.”

“So what was this one doing here?” Raff asked.

“There’s always someone trying to find a new way to make money,” Hector shrugged. “The owner of this one thought there might be a market for maize and potatoes in Hillena.”

“Maize and potatoes?” Raff asked. “Really?”

“Some coffee too, the captain told me,” Hector replied, “but I’m, not sure why. They grow coffee much closer to Hillena than Palendo, but he was only able to unload half of his cargo here, so. It’s pretty good coffee, really. You’re drinking it now.”

“I’ve had worse,” Raff nodded, “but the Rachel can’t be the first ship to cross the Bright Ocean from here.”

“From del Humo?” Hector considered. “It is only the second in the ten years I’ve been here. I understand there are one or two others a year who make the crossing from some of the more southern ports, but if you want to get to Hillena, you’ll probably get there faster going in the other direction.”

“By the time I get there, d’Alere will have been and gone,” Raff shook his head, “assuming he doesn’t get off the ship somewhere along the way. The Bright Ocean is, what? Nine thousand miles wide?”

“Almost ten thousand to Hillena from here,” Hector replied.

“Even better,” Raff replied, “or worse, I suppose. No ship can make that crossing without stopping for water and food.”

“There is always rain water,” Hector pointed out, “and they can put out a few lines for fish, but yes, most ships stop in some of the islands along the way. Trade again.”

“But no one makes the trip regularly?” Raff asked.

“You’re the Guildmaster,” Hector answered. “You tell me.”

“Of course not,” Raff grimaced. “If it were a regular route we would know it and I would have seen it in the reports by now. Who is the Wayfarer on board?”

“Michel Roue,” Hector replied, “or Julian d’Alere if you are correct about him.”

“You don’t think he’s d’Alere?” Raff asked. “How many damned rogues do we have running around?”

“One less than we did yesterday,” Hector replied. “You are probably correct, though. D’Alere was headed this way and Roue is definitely the one who tried to kill you. Other than d’Alere who could have been waiting for you?”

“I’m not without enemies,” Raff admitted, “but I think d’Alere was the only one around here. So Rachel’s Wayfarer?”

“She doesn’t have one,” Hector replied, “not a Guildsman anyway. I understand her first mate has enough of the talent to get them in and out of Stabilities. Frankly, she has a large enough crew to manage that anyway, but the first mate can also navigate in the Wild and all the officers know how to use a sextant in any case.”

“I guess you’re right,” Raff admitted. “With the invention of the sextant, a large enough ship doesn’t really need a Wayfarer on board. I suppose the old quadrants could have done the trick too.”

“No a quadrant is not quite accurate enough to do it safely,” Hector disagreed. “Even just using a sextant is a risky thing if you get caught in a long series of cloudy nights and days. A ship without a Wayfarer can find herself sailing in circles.”

“And most ships still carry at least a journeyman in their crew,” Raff pointed out. “Believe me, I’m not worried about the Guild losing business that way. Frankly we’re always a little short-handed as it is, but if there aren’t any other ships headed west from here…”

“…or anywhere on this coast,” Hector added.

“…or anywhere on this coast,” Raff echoed, “I’m afraid d’Alere is going to get away for now. No helping that, but it bothers me. I’ve been chasing him a long time and it just seems too pat that he would have a ship to escape what should have been a dead end path.”

“Do you think he arranged to have the Rachel waiting for him here?” Hector asked.

“I think someone may have,” Raff told him.

“Who?”

“I don’t know,” Raff shrugged. “That’s the main reason I was chasing d’Alere.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Hector asked. “Will you return to Palendo?”

“Probably,” Raff replied, “but by now my son and his partner should be on their way here. We could cross each other between here and there. It will be best to wait until they catch up and I think you can use a bit of help around here for another day or two, right?”

While they had planned to stay in del Humo until Kaz and Chanya arrived, Raff’s and Em’s plans were changed abruptly a few days later when a call for help arrived at the Guildhall in the hands a journeyman who had been doing a circuit of the small settlements to the north of the city.

“I ran into a Ken waiting beside the path between Palos and Santa Isadora,” he reported to Hector and Raff. “I didn’t even know there were Kenlientan cities on the Northern Continent.”

“There are a few Ken settlements to the north of here,” Hector replied. “They aren’t as large as the ones elsewhere but from what I hear, they haven’t been colonizing this part of the world as long as we have.”

“There’s also a scientific station on the east coast in Varana,” Raff told them. “They call it Skethit and have been developing the new steam engines you may have heard about.”

“They call this one Rathan Jar,” the journeyman replied.

“The Edge of the Sea,” Raff translated. “I always like Kenlientan names. What seems to be their problem?”

“They have asked for a master Wayfarer,” the journeyman replied, “but the man I met seemed unwilling to go into details.”

“That usually means a crime has been committed,” Raff commented. “The mentioning of names or even details that might implicate someone is considered an accusation and they are careful not to accuse someone of a crime until it is fully proven.”

“It must make investigations particularly difficult,” Hector opined.

“It does lead to some fairly indirect lines of questioning,” Raff shrugged. “If they are asking for a Wayfarer, though, it must be a very big problem. I’ll look into it.”

“Are you sure?” Hector asked. “Your son ought to be here any day now.”

“Then he and Chanya can wait for my return for a change,” Raff chuckled.

“I’m coming with you,” Em decided when he told her about the Ken request.

“I thought you were helping Francesca fit in here,” Raff remarked.

“She’s ready to stand on her own, I think,” Em replied. “She might not think so, but she is none the less. So what’s going in in Rathan Jar?”

“I haven’t the foggiest,” Raff admitted, “but you know when the Kenlienta ask I feel obliged to help.”

“One of these days you are going to have to tell me why,” Em replied, “but I do know.”

“It’s no big mystery,” Raff told her. “It’s just the way I was brought up. Remember I’m from a long line of Wayfarers and my grandfather always told me that while the Kenlienta rarely ask for help, when they do it is a Wayfarer’s responsibility to respond. The Guild Charter says the same thing when you get past the legalistic language in it. I just take that a little more seriously than most do.”

“Somehow I thought there was some incredible tale of how a Kenlientan elder found you sick somewhere in the Wild and nursed you back to health,” Em commented.

“After this many years you’ve heard all my stories several times including the ones you were a part of,” Raff told her.

“So we leave first thing in the morning,” Em decided. “I’d better leave a note for Kaz and Chanya just in case Hector has been called away when they get here.”

Two

Raff and Em started northward just after breakfast the next morning but had only the haziest notion of where there were going. “Anywhere else in the world we could find a road to travel on,” Raff complained. “Not here though.”

“There are only three Ken settlements on this whole side of the continent,” Em reminded him, “and the other two are hundreds of miles away. Road building between them would be time consuming and, for now, a waste of resources. I imagine they have a few worn paths, or maybe a few boats that go up and down the coast.”

“Relatively few Kenlienta are sailors,” Raff pointed out. “They prefer to travel overland.”

“The Ken did not walk from the Eastern Continent to Rathan Jar,” Em pointed out, “and the people of Skethit didn’t walk there either.”

“I guess you’re right,” Raff admitted. “I just don’t think of Kenlienta as sailors. I’ve never even seen a Ken ship, have you?”

“No,” Em shook her head. “They do not have more than a handful or two in the world. I imagine that the few Ken who are willing to go to sea find themselves in demand.”

“I suppose they would be,” Raff agreed, “but the Ken also haven’t had anything to do with the humans around here.”

“Why would they?” Em countered. “Except for Wayfarers they have very little contact with us anywhere else.”

“But at least we can ask the nearest Guildhall where to find them when we need to,” Raff pointed out. “The agent in the last town didn’t even know what a Kenlien was.”

“He was just the local postmaster,” Em reminded him, “and I doubt he’s ever had to worry about making a delivery to Rathan Jar.”

“I guess so,” Raff nodded, “but according to that journeyman, we should be near Rathan Jar by now. Well, I see a town up ahead – it must be Martes - and the sun will be setting in another hour or so. Time to call it a day anyway.”

The town was just another small settlement and trading post, virtually indistinguishable from the last two towns they had passed through. It featured one small inn with only a pair of guest rooms. The owner made a point of mentioning that this was the first time he had managed to rent both rooms at the same time. “My other room is being used by a Wayfarer too,” he told Raff. “Maybe you know him too?”

“Probably not yet,” Raff replied. “My wife and I are out of our usual territory. Still, maybe he knows where Rathan Jar is. Do you know where he is at the moment?”

“Oh, he and your local agent went out of town this morning to go fishing,” the inn-keeper replied. “With a little luck we might have fresh salmon for dinner or else it’s mutton stew again.”

“Some evenings I’m happy not to go hungry,” Raff replied. “It’s nearly sunset, though, shouldn’t they be back by now?”

“It won’t be dark for another hour,” came the unconcerned reply.

Raff was drinking a slightly flat beer when the two fishermen arrived half an hour later and presented two large salmon to the inn-keeper. Spotting Raff as a new-comer the local agent came over and introduced himself, but was unable to tell Raff where Rathan Jar was, although he had heard there was a Kenlientan village in the general vicinity.

The journeyman overheard the conversation and came over to offer his assistance, “I know where Rathan Jar is,” he told Raff and then introduced himself, “Peter van Ry.” Peter was a tall man of roughly the same age as Raff. His medium-length hair was a dirty blond with some silver starting to show

“Raff Cawlens,” Raff traded names as they shook hands.

“Guildmaster?” Peter was startled. “What are you doing in Lorendo of all places?”

“I could ask the same of you,” Raff replied. “There aren’t many Dixans traveling regular routes in this part of the world.”

“One of the reasons I became a practicing Wayfarer was to see the world,” Peter shrugged. “I’ll never be a master, but I can follow a path anywhere, so every few years I transfer to another part of the world. I hear we recently gained open access to Salasia. Might try that next.”

“So you aren’t interested in being a hall master?” Raff asked.

“Not really,” Peter replied, “Maybe when I am older. Right now there’s just too much to see. So you didn’t answer my question, Guildmaster.”

“No, I didn’t,” Raff agreed. He might have left it there, but decided to admit to part of what had been happening. “Have you ever encountered a Wayfarer calling himself Pierre d’Ace?”

“Can’t say I have, sir,” Peter shook his head, taking a sip of the local beer. “Nothing like the stuff from home, is it?”

“It is unique,” Raff agreed, “How about Julian d’Alere? Or Michel Roue?”

“Roue?” Peter asked. “I didn’t know he was a Wayfarer. Independent?”

“You know him?” Raff pressed.

“Met him once a few weeks ago,” Peter replied. “He joined a small party I was conducting to del Humo. Wait. Are you saying this Roue is the same man as d’Ace and d’Alere?”

“You put that together quickly,” Raff noted. “Yes, I think they are all the same. What did this Roue look like?”

“Tall and thin, with wavy dark brown hair,” Peter recalled. “Fancies himself a ladies’ man though for the life of me I can’t see why and neither could any of the local girls. I thought it was just my imagination, but he seemed like he was up to something. Then again, everyone keeps their secrets so I didn’t pry. Might have been different if I caught him doing something illegal, but at the time I just figured it was a case in which two people just did not get along.”

“As to that last, I couldn’t really say,” Raff told him, “but he does sound like the man I’ve been following since I learned about him in New Farrington.”

“Three thousand miles?” whistled Peter. “That’s a long chase!”

“Longer,” Raff told him. “It was hardly along a straight line.”

“I suppose it wasn’t. We don’t have any paths going from here to Varana, do we? But that doesn’t bring you to Rathan Jar, does it? Or I hope not, at least.”

“I don’t think so,” Raff shook his head. “When last seen, he was aboard a ship headed for Hillena.”

“How do you plan to follow him now then?” Peter asked.

“I don’t,” Raff replied. “I sent a report back to Taundon that he is to be stripped of his Guild rank and detained pending the judgment of the Congress of Wayfarers, but we may never actually find him now. Actually, I don’t know what’s happening in Rathan Jar. The Ken were particularly closed-mouth about it.”

“A crime investigation then,” Peter concluded.

“You’ve had some experience with the Ken?” Raff asked.

“A few times,” Peter replied. “I can control my aura well enough to suit them and ran a courier route on the Southern Continent a few years ago. I got to several Ken towns and cities.”

“Tamag Methin?” Raff asked, mentioning one of the largest Kenlientan cities.

“Wish I had,” Peter sighed. “Elder Nienta tells me it is really something to see.”

“Oh you’ve met Nienta, have you?” Raff chuckled. “She’s a good friend, both to the Guild and to me personally.”

“Well, you are the Raufanax,” Peter laughed, “the bringer of health. I imagine all Ken are your friends.”

“Not all of them,” Raff replied, “but I guess most have at least heard of me.”

“I doubt there is a Kenlien who has not heard of the human who saved them from the Great Plague,” Peter countered. “Well, I had my day off here. Tomorrow morning I’ll show you how to find Rathan Jar.”

Three

Raff and Em had both gone to bed early that evening since the trip to Rathan Jar from Martes promised to be a long trek across truly Wild territory with neither paths nor Ken roads to ease their way there. Sometime past midnight, however, Em woke up as a low rumble filled their room and a pitcher on the night stand rattled. “Raff, wake up!” she urged her husband.

“Huh?” he asked sleepily. “Why?” He started to roll back overm but she stopped him.

“I think it’s an earthquake,” she told him as she got swiftly to her feet and grabbed a dressing gown. “Raff! We have to get out of the inn.”

“Earthquake?” he asked, coming fully awake. “Right!” he too got up and grabbed his shirt and trousers as they both ran for the door. “I think we ought to get out of the inn.”

“Good idea,” Em agreed as though it had been his idea in the first place. The rumbling grew louder and the pitcher fell off the night stand and shattered against the vibrating floor boards.

They were out on the street with others from the inn as well as various neighbors when Raff remembered something they had forgotten. “My boots!”

“Too late,” Em told him, grabbing his arm to stop him from re-entering the building.

Just then a building in the nearby central plaza came crashing down. As if that was some sort of signal, two more collapsed a moment later followed by another in the next few seconds even as the tremor was starting to subside. The ground stopped shaking, but just then another alarm split the night.

“Fire,” Peter told Raff and pointed down the street where flames were starting to come out of one of the windows.

“Is there an open water supply here?” Raff asked. “A stream would do.”

“This is the dry season,” Peter replied. “Most of the water is in the wells. The wells are fairly deep and the townsfolk use pumps to bring it up. ”

“That might do,” Raff replied, “let’s see if we can find one we can dismantle.”

“Huh?” Peter asked.

“Come on,” Raff told him. “You’ll see soon enough.”

“You’re forgetting your boots again, Raff,” Em told him. Raff turned toward her and saw she was holding his boots in her hands and realized that while he and Peter had been talking she had returned to their room. He put them on his feet and then led Peter toward the burning building where the men and women of the small town were already forming a bucket brigade.

There had been a fire that threatened to destroy the city of Manrich the last time Raff and Em had visited. The city had boasted a number of public parks with scenic ponds, which Raff and Em had been able to lift water from to help douse the worse of the blazes. Martes, a much smaller settlement, had been built along a pair of crossed streets with the same small central plaza all colonial towns that people from Salus, or Lower Crace, used as a basic design. The inn was on the south end of the town, but the fire had started in a building that faced the plaza and now that fire was threatening to spread to still others.

The buckets were being filled from three different nearby wells, but no one would allow Raff and Peter to remove the pump so that Raff could use the water from within. Then he realized that he did not need to remove the pump so long as the man pumping the handle did not stop. Summoning the Wild energy all around him, Raff used it to direct the water coming out of the nearest pump as a stream into the open window of the burning building. The pumper stopped in surprised and Raff ordered, “Keep pumping! As fast and as hard as you can. Get buckets to the other lines. You’ll need them there.”

Two men grasped the pump handle and started bring up the water as fast as they could while Raff redirected it toward the fire. A few minutes later a second stream joined his and Raff saw that Em was doing the same thing at one of the other pumps. Even this way, their progress was slow and the fire started spreading to the next building in the town square. Emblem, noticing that before Raff did, sent her stream to extinguish the newer blaze before it do more than char the side of that building.

They continued sending water into the fire for the rest of the night. Several times they thought they had extinguished it, but the wood of the building was so hot it dried out rapidly and ignited again each time they stopped to rest or inspect their progress. Raff mused that if he had the water resources he had in Manrich, this fire would have been a small problem, but there he was not dependent on the muscle power of others to keep the water flowing. The pumpers took turns and by the time the sky began to lighten in the east, the fire appeared to be completely out.

Once the fire had been handled, Raff became aware that others had been attempting to rescue people who had been unable to escape buildings before they had collapsed in the quake. Those rescue attempts continued for the next few hours, but because most had made it safely into the streets only a few had been trapped. One elderly woman had been killed in the initial quake and a young man was crushed when another building fell in during an aftershock later that morning. However, most people escaped with no more than a few bruises and burns and by evening all the townsfolk had been accounted for.

“We’ll stay a few more days,” Raff told Peter on their way back to the inn. The people here will need our help rebuilding or at least clearing away the rubble and burying their dead. Also Em is pretty good at healing and she’s helping the local physician. Come to think about it, the town is lucky to have a doctor. A lot of small ones like this do not.”

“Martes is a lucky town, or so the folk here have always said,” Peter told him, “especially on Tuesdays.”

“Excuse me?” Raff asked. “I wouldn’t exactly call this a lucky Tuesday and why on Tuesdays?”

“Martes is the Lower Cracian word for Tuesday,” Peter reminded Raff, “and according to the locals this town was founded on a Tuesday, hence the name. And considering how bad this could have been, yes, they were lucky. Lucky to have a pair of master wayfarers who could stop a fire before it destroyed the whole town. Lucky so many of them managed to safety. Lucky they are able to help each other. Tragedies happen to us all from time to time, but we are lucky when we manage to come through them.”

“You’re right,” Raff decided. “If it weren’t for our troubles, how could we appreciate the good times? Sometimes, though, I think it might be nice to give it a try.”

“Highly over-rated,” Peter laughed, “Trust me. Have you ever met one of the Cracian royal family?”

“Once or twice,” Raff admitted, “and my wife was born noble.”

“Then perhaps you know what I mean,” Peter replied. “There you have several generations of people who have had everything done for them. They have been spared every unpleasant activity it was possible to shield them from. As a result, I don’t think any of them have truly ever grown up. They get petulant if dinner is a few minutes late and they honestly have no concept of starvation. They also have no idea of what life is like for the people of Crace, but that’s no surprise, seeing as they have been isolated from their subjects for generations. In contrast, the King of Dix frequently strolls through the markets of his capital city and talks to his people. Better still, he listens to them.”

“Not even Julia of the Green Lands does that,” Raff admitted, “and while she started out making a lot of talk about caring for her subjects, she seems to be making a lot of mistakes in Varana,”

“It’s isolation again,” Peter replied knowingly. “She sees the people of the Green Lands, but has no real understanding of the people of her colonies. She will have trouble there before long.”

“She already does,” Raff informed him. “Last I heard, the colonies were declared in rebellion even though the colonies themselves had not yet agreed on that point. There is a strong movement in parts of Varana in favor of independence from the Green Lands.”

“Glad to not be there right now, then,” Peter told him. “The army of the Green Lands may be the mightiest in the world. The colonists don’t have a chance against them.”

“That depends on how much of the army and navy Her Majesty commits to suppressing the rebellion and also how committed the colonists are to independence. Last time I was there the people were fairly divided on the subject with more either neutral or against the separationist cause, but each new incident brings more in favor of independence,” Raff commented. “It can go either way.”

“Hola!” someone shouted from ahead of them. “Peter! Is that you?”

“Alonso?” Peter asked. “When did you get in? Raff, Alonso is another journeyman who works out of del Humo.”

“I’ve only been here a few minutes,” Alonso admitted after the introductions had been performed. “I brought in a party of traders who had been making the circuit of the northern posts. We nearly got killed last night, but it doesn’t look like Martes did much better.” There was another mild tremor just then, but it was little more than a growl

“Considering the damage, it could have been worse,” Raff told him. “What happened to the north?”

“Landslide,” Alonso reported. “It’s about ten miles north of here and we had to leave the wagons behind. My party was not very happy about that, but I promised we would go back for them if the path could be cleared.”

“I guess I know what I am going to do tomorrow then,” Raff replied.

Raff, Peter and Alonso rode north the next morning and soon arrived at the sight of a landslide. “This is new,” Alonso told them. “It’s not as wide a slide as the one that stopped us. It wasn’t here yesterday.”

“It probably happened during that aftershock last night,” Peter decided. “Raff how do you want to handle this? That ground is too unstable to just reforge the path over it, isn’t it?”

“The Kenlienta have a trick I’ve relied on frequently enough,” Raff replied. “Keep an eye up-slope for me, though. As I move this away, more may come tumbling down.”

Using the Ken method of clearing away rubble, he managed to clear it all away within an hour. As he predicted there were a few small slides set off by his actions, but the Wayfarers were never in danger and once the path was cleared, they moved on. A few miles later they found the slide that had stopped Alonso’s party. “You certainly did not exaggerate this,” Raff admitted as he looked across nearly a quarter of a mile of ruined landscape. “Okay, same drill as last time, I think.”

“Wait,” Alonso stopped him. “Let me cross to the other side. It just occurred to me that I do not know what condition the path is in north of here. If you will hold on to my horse, I can walk on ahead and make sure it is cleared up to the next post while you clear this up.”

“Good idea,” Peter agreed. “One pair of eyes is all we need to watch the slope above.”

This time Raff continued to work for hours, stopping occasionally whenever Peter interrupted him with, “You were looking a bit stretched.”

“I probably was,” Raff admitted the second time. “Both advanced Wayfaring and Ken magic take a lot out of you if you aren’t careful. You don’t feel the drain until you are done, but by then you could be dead. Ask Em. I frequently wear myself out doing things like this.”

“Doesn’t she try to stop you when you do?” Peter asked.

“It has never occurred to either of us,” Raff admitted wryly. “Instead she just adds to my suffering afterward in the hope I’ll learn my lesson, but I think your way is better.” He drank water and ate lightly during his breaks and gradually got the path clear, but about half way through the afternoon, there was what turned out to be the last aftershock. But it caused the loose dirt and rocks upslope to come tumbling down all over again. I think we need a new strategy,” Raff told Peter.

“I have seen people build restraining walls to prevent slides like this,” Peter suggested.

“That is not a bad idea,” Raff admitted, “but this is a very long stretch to prop up. It’s going to take a while, if I can do it at all.”

As he had worked so far, he had used the Kenlientan technique that cause opposing forces to miss one another. This time, he reversed the process and enhanced the tendency for the boulders, pebbles and dust to push against one another, but after a few minutes, Raff realized that that was not going to work. When he stopped they would return to their normal potential. He paused to consider the situation once more.

He briefly experimented with fusing the rocks together, which he found was fun, but it used a lot of energy and it would exhaust him dangerously before he could finished the job, so he returned to his original method of letting the land continue sliding downslope until everything further uphill was stable. As it was slipping and sliding past, however, he directed the smaller gravel to stay behind and then filled the gaps between pebbles with stone dust as the last of the larger stones moved by, Raff wondered idly if he could have used some to form a wall on either side of the improved pathway. He supposed he had just built a short road and it was only about one hundred yards long, but he did the same thing several more times until the entire pathway had been cleared and replaced with a smooth, firm and level surface.”

“Nice, but it won’t drain well,” Peter commented dryly. “It needs to be a bit lower on the sides.”

“And I need to adjust the path itself,” Raff added. “It’s about a foot below the current surface. “I think I can do both at once as I walk back along the new path. But give me a few minutes to rest first. That was not as easy as it looked.”

“It did not look easy to me,” Peter shook his head. “I couldn’t do what you did, but I did see how you were manipulating the Wild to do it. How you kept all that in mind was incredible. Take your time and I’ll go pitch the tent for us.”

“Pitch the tent?” Raff asked.

“It will be dark in half an hour,” Peter replied. “You weren’t planning to travel back to Martes tonight, were you?”

“I was,” Raff admitted, “but you brought a tent with you?”

“No but Alonso’s merchants did,” Peter replied. “I’ll just hitch up the horses to the wagons and drive one across. Good thing Alonso made sure we brought dray horses and not ones for riding.”

“All right,” Raff nodded. “When I’m ready I’ll ride the second wagon across. I hope Alonso gets back soon though.”

“I’ll see about having a hot meal ready when he does.”

Alonso returned just as the sun was setting with a bottle of wine in hand and the report that the path was clear to the north. “There was only minor damage in Pinos Altos and the folks there did not think it was much of a tremor,” he told Raff and Peter.

“That’s a mercy,” Peter nodded, “though it may have been worse to the south.”

They sat around a fire for a couple hours, mostly discussing news from all parts of the world or “talking shop” in the manner of all Wayfarers.

“I very much liked your road here,” Alonso told Raff. “Is it possible to build such roads in the Wild elsewhere?”

“The Ken do all the time,” Raff replied, “and they pave them with cut stones, not packed gravel. The problem is our paths will not stay where the roads we can build will be. You know how Stabilities float around slowly through the Wild. The paths we build move accordingly so no matter how carefully we plan them, eventually the roads will not be on the paths.”

“Wouldn’t that mean a path might eventually intersect a mountain or a lake?” Alonso asked.

“It has been known to happen,” Raff admitted, “but mostly on seldom-used paths. The ones we frequent are maintained as we go. Master Wayfarers work on the paths, keeping or putting them in place when the terrain cannot support an alternative route. Even journeymen like you two do that just by travelling on a path, but out here there’s not enough traffic and the paths get away from us sometimes. Generally that means we have to make sure a master gets out this way to reforge a path or else one way is abandoned for another. I think this one is good for a decade or so, but that’s just a guess, most Stabilities don’t move so fast that you can tell by just looking. You generally need weeks of observation and I doubt anyone has done that here.”

“I was taught that paths helped to hold Stabilities together,” Peter commented.

“They do, but there are limits,” Raff replied. “Paths are flexible and can be stretched, but they can break too, that’s another reason we have to maintain them. Ease the tension when they get stretched or pull up the slack when they are too loose. Like I said, masters do that as a matter of course as they travel and back when I was a working freelancer, I only had to make such adjustments every once in a while. At least around here we probably do not have to worry about some young Kenlientan magician cutting one of the paths.”

“That happens?” Peter asked.

“Once,” Raff replied, “and the kid probably killed himself in the effort. Never did find out for sure how it happened though. Em and I were headed to the Ken city, Tamag Methin on the South Continent. By the time we found that path it was causing all sorts of problems. If you think of a path as a sort of woven belt, it was coming undone with uncontrolled energy whipping back and forth everywhere. If we hadn’t found it in time that would have whiplashed back on the two towns it connected and no one really knows how much damage that would have caused. Fortunately we did arrive in time, but it was pretty scary even so and it nearly got away from us a few times. I might not have been able to do it on my own, in fact.”

“Was that the so-called Path of Fire about twelve years ago?” Peter asked.

“No,” Raff shook his head. “That was something else although it happened at the same time. Sometimes when a potentially powerful wayfarer, one who has not been trained most of the time, experiences a particularly traumatic experience, his or her power wakes up in the angriest ways. You’ve met my wife. As the daughter of a Cracian lord she never even suspected she might be a wayfarer until he betrothed her to the heir to the Duchy of Bur. She was as headstrong as she still is and the Duke’s son liked to beat women. One day he made the mistake of doing so too close to the Wild and she summoned a unicorn.”

“What happened?” Alonso asked when Raff paused.

“A maiden in distress,” Raff countered, “with the man at fault right there? You can figure it out, I’m sure. The damned fool is lucky to have survived the goring. From what I hear Bur would have been better off if he hadn’t. Even King Charles of Crace despises the man.”

“His Majesty is a bad one to cross,” Alonso commented. “I am surprised Duke Henri is still the duke.”

“Bur has an odd history and her own standing army,” Raff replied. “It goes back a few centuries to when it was a buffer state between Holrany and Crace. Naturally the Burrinian army is small compared to that of Crace, but no monarch wants a war in his own lands so Duke Henri has some latitude as to how far he might go, even in opposing his king. But you were asking about the Path of Fire.

“That was caused by another newly awakened Wayfarer,” Raff went on, “my son, in fact. It is probably the most extreme case of violent awakening and even the Kenlienta were inconvenienced and upset by the path until we understood why it had come to be and, of course, eradicated it. That was a very long adventure and perhaps a tale for another evening. Let’s get some sleep or we’ll be up talking all night, hmm?”

There was the sound of a few rocks rolling down the slope from above and all three Wayfarers turned toward it. “Guess I didn’t get all the stones settled,” Raff chuckled after a moment. “Well I’m sure there won’t be many of those left.”

“Look!” Alonso pointed up hill. There, silhouetted in the moon-lightened sky stood a tall man-like figure. It looked muscular and with longer arms than a human and as it began to move away in a lumbering walk they thought the figure was covered with long hair.

“Sasquatch,” Peter breathed.

“Gesundheit, as the Holrans might say,” Raff replied lightly.

“That’s what the local natives call such creatures,” Peter explained. “I never thought I might see one. I was not sure until now they even existed. The word means ‘wild man’ I think and they are rarely seen this far south, or so I’ve been told.”

“Are they dangerous to travelers?” Raff asked.

“There are stories about some incidents,” Peter replied, “but I think that’s all they are. Stories. Probably used to keep children from misbehaving. Mostly I’ve heard that they try to avoid people and especially Stabilities.”

“Hmm,” Raff considered. “Perhaps I will increase the size of our little stability for the night then, just in case.” He did so and then bid the others a good night. He had expected to actually still be up for hours after the sighting, but was actually fast asleep just a few minutes later.

Rathan Jar

One

“And there it is,” Peter proclaimed to Raff and Em two days later as they stood on a hill over-looking the Kenlientan city.

Unlike the human settlements in Lorendo, Rathan Jar truly deserved the title of “city,” even if it was a small city. Del Humo and its area of Stability covered only a little over one thousand acres, but Rathan Jar was several times the size of del Humo and with a population that dwarfed the human city. None of their buildings were over two or three stories tall, but while some were faced with wooden shingles, adobe was common in the residential areas and the public buildings were in the process of being faced with textured concrete. It was a technique Raff had not seen used in modern buildings although there had been a fashion for it in the ancient world at several times in human lands and many of those buildings still stood.

Even from here, they could see the unusual city plan, with semi-circular streets radiating out from a hub situated on the side of a river that emptied a few miles downstream into a wide bay. Connecting the arcing streets was a series of evenly spaced spoke streets, making the whole layout look like a wheel that had been cut in half.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go into town with you and see if there’s any mail to collect,” Peter told them. “There usually isn’t, but when there is, they appreciate the service, and to tell the truth, they have a way of preparing the local crabs I’m particularly partial to.”

“That’s fine by me,” Raff agreed. “After your guidance, far be it from me to deprive you of a favorite meal. The use of concrete in their downtown area, though. Isn’t that a little permanent for the Ken? Though I must say I like the use of colored glass for the windows. I wonder if the panes can be changed quickly for new patterns each day.”

“Last time I was here,” Peter chuckled, “everything was deep blue stucco. It had a very uniform look to it, but it was to honor a Ken holy day of some sort. I wasn’t able to understand which one though. Frankly, I think they were having me on, some of the explanations were a bit inconsistent.”

“Ah! I know the holiday,” Em nodded. “It is not unlike our Celebration of the New Year in which it is customary to practice harmless japes and jokes. Of course they were having you on and you should feel honored that they included you in their celebration.”

“Oh, I do,” Peter agreed, “I just didn’t know which holiday it was or how to help celebrate, but it sounds like I fit right in even if I didn’t know it at the time. Anyway, what really surprises me is how little damage there appears to be to the buildings of the city. I would have expected as much or more as we saw in Martes.”

“We can ask when we find Elder Farelax,” Raff told him.

“My first question will be where the baths are,” Em told him. “I suggest you do the same.”

“I have to admit I’m more curious about how bad the quake was here,” Raff replied.

Elder Farelax smiled when he heard the question and replied, “We have a lot of experience with earthquakes. The cities of the Ken Nation have frequently been built in areas of great activity and over the centuries we have learned to build structures that can resist small and sometimes even medium strength quakes. There was some damage from this latest tremor and I fear we did lose some twelve of our citizens, but as you know, we also embrace change.”

Farelax was tall, even for a Kenlien, standing at seven and a half feet tall. And while age was no prerequisite for the title of elder within Kenlientan society, his hair and long beard were snow white. He also wore a traditional elder’s robe of a sort that few Ken elders wore any longer save for ceremonial purposes, or sitting in an active session of the Council of Elders. The body of his robe was mustard yellow, the arms and the hem shaded to bright scarlet. All Ken elders carried a living plant kept alive by their magic as a mark of their rank. Farelax had a living staff crafted from the branch of a fig tree. It was unusually straight for such a branch, but Raff knew Elders commonly shaped their staves with magic. The top end of the staff had several small branches with leaves on them, although the end of one branch was adorned with a small, still ripening fig. It was difficult, Raff knew, to get a living staff to fruit and frequently it meant other trees of the same sort needed to be available for cross pollination. It was also possible the elder had more than one staff that he kept close by during the flowering season.

Farelax also had a pair of pet cats, one of whom, a common gray tabby, took an instant liking to Raff and crawled into his lap and started purring.

“Change is Life,” Raff replied as he stroked the cat’s fur. It was a common Kenlientan greeting, benediction and philosophy.

“And Life is Change,” Farelax completed the formula. “We are constantly changing our homes and business buildings anyway and consequently know how to build and rebuild with a speed that sometimes astonishes our human cousins. Outwardly, most of the damage has been erased. Inwardly, some of us will mourn our losses for some time to come, but as I said, our losses were minimal compared to what might have happened. We grieve with our neighbors who have been hurt, but celebrate with those who came through unharmed.”

“Just as we do,” Peter commented more to himself than anyone else. He beckoned to the other cat, a slim gray shorthair type. The cat looked at him inquiringly, but did not approach.

“Just so,” Farelax nodded with a smile. “But please dine with me tonight and after dinner, Raufanax, we can discuss the matter that brought you here.”

“I am here to lend whatever aid and support I can, of course, honored elder,” Raff replied.

“And I’m just here in case anyone here wants to send mail by Wayfarer,” Peter added, betraying just a bit of discomfort. “I should probably check that and then…”

“And then you will join us,” Farelax told him. “We have not met before Peter van Ry, but I have heard of you. Our local postmaster speaks well of you and it would honor me if you will join us this evening.”

“The honor is mine, Elder,” Peter replied courteously, visibly more at ease now. He turned and headed off to take care of his business in town.

“That was nice of you,” Raff told Farelax.

Farelax shugged, “It cost me nothing really and I meant what I said. Our postmaster does speak highly of him and I have wanted to meet him for a while now, but somehow our paths have never crossed and I can tell that you trust him. Besides, while what we have to discuss is a matter of some delicacy, it is known to everyone in Tamag Methin.”

“Very well,” Raff nodded. “Then I should probably clean up before dinner.”

“Ah, so Raufanax does listen to Emblem of the fiery hair,” Farelax chuckled.

“I have learned that she only becomes more insistent if I try to ignore her,” Raff laughed, “and the simple fact is, she’s right. I do need a bath.”

Farelax appeared to be in no hurry to get down to business, but Raff would have been surprised if he had, Instead the elder asked about news from the rest of the world and the Wayfarers brought him up to date. “Oh, we also met an elder named Hatterix a while ago. Do you know him?”

“I do indeed,” Farelax nodded. “He is a distant cousin, in fact. He decided to travel across the Western Continent. So he actually did it?”

“By now perhaps,” Raff replied, “We met him on the banks of the River Selo. A bit over halfway across the continent from here and gave him and his party a ride across. It’s a very large river and miles across at the point we found him. They were trying to decide whether to build a raft or a boat or try walking upstream. The river can be treacherous especially to a novice boater and walking to where they could cross on foot might have added a thousand miles or more to his trip. He seemed to be doing well in spite of that, however, and it sounded as though he was making friends with the native people all across the continent. I asked him for a copy of his memoirs if he ever got around to writing them. The information will be invaluable to everyone, I think, and interesting to me and probably others.”

“So you think he may have completed his journey by now?” Farelax asked.

“Anything may have happened,” Raff shrugged, “but he was just entering the western frontier of Varana and so would be closer to civilization in case of trouble. Certainly, he has no trouble fending off the effects of Stabilities. He actually offered me his hand to shake before knowing who I was or if I could control my own aura.”

“I discussed that with him before he left,” Farelax admitted. “We realized that he would be probably meeting humans who had never heard of the Ken Nation and who might take offense if we refused to clasp hands or touch in other ways that showed friendly intent. He stayed here an extra two months practicing to be able to do that handshake trick without much effort.”

“The local natives do not clasp hands in meeting,” Peter told him, “but they do place their hands on each other’s shoulders if they are friends. I have heard there are other gestures used further inland.”

“The custom of clasping right hands,” Emblem told them, “originally was to show that both people were unarmed. It is practiced in one form or other in most parts of the world, but not by the natives of the Western or Lower Continents, although they are learning of it through contact and use it when in a colony. In their own settlements they expect us to respect their customs, of course.”

“As is only proper,” Farelax nodded. “Well, since he made it over halfway across by the time you met him, I imagine he figured all that out for himself by the time he got there.”

“He had a lot of interesting stories to tell,” Raff replied, “but only a few involved being in danger and then it was mostly with Wild creatures he was unfamiliar with. He was nearly trampled by a vast herd of strange and shaggy bull-like creatures, for example. The indigenous people who were hunting them called them tatonka although he learned other names for the beasts from other tribes along the way. Most of the time, his journey was only threatened by a lack of a balanced diet. Unfamiliar plants are not a good thing to experiment with while hiking across a continent, but even there his contact with the natives helped out, once he was able to make his needs known.

“We gave him approximate directions to Skethit, which was where he was trying to go from there,” Raff concluded.

“Yes,” Farelax nodded. “His goal was to walk from here to Skethit and then sail the Dark Ocean back to the Northern Continent. From there he will go to Yakrut and eventually back to his hometown in what you call Makret. If he does, he will have circled the entire world and done as much of it on foot as possible.”

“A first for Kenlienta and humans,” Em commented. “Our ships circle the globe but even our Wayfarers do not walk everywhere if we can ride.”

Farelax chuckled. “I asked Hatterix what he wanted to do after that and he thought it might be interesting to fly around the world on a hippogryph.”

“Are you sure he’s an elder?” Raff laughed. “I generally expect a little more, uh gravity from one of that rank.”

“He does seem a bit,” Farelax paused with a slight smile before continuing, “uh, flighty, doesn’t he?” Raff wanted to groan at the pun, but managed to keep a straight face even though neither Em nor Peter even tried. “I assure you he can be serious in serious situations, but Hatterix is what you might call an ‘elder at large.’ It is rare for someone to be an elder without even a town or village to be the elder of, but some of us become so learned in the arts that the title is bestowed on us rather than waiting for a vacancy. My cousin is one of those rare individuals. And he takes the ‘at large’ part very seriously. So seriously that he thinks of the entire Ken nation, the entire world really, as his territory. He travels not only to see this territory, but to learn and teach along the way. Perhaps he will settle down to a single town or region in time, or maybe he will continue to travel. Either way, I expect his contributions to the Ken will be monumental.

“However, while I have enjoyed discussing Hatterix and his journey, my own problems are far more close to home,” Farelax told them. “When a Kenlien is considered to have allegedly transgressed against our laws, it is the duty of an elder to conduct a trial in which his or her guilt or innocence can be established. However, in this case the accused is my sister’s son, a young man named Tranelex. Because of our relationship, I must recuse myself from acting as the judge and while we do have other elders in the city, out of respect for me, none of them will hear the case. Consequently we decided to request a master Wayfarer to act as my proxy.”

“It did not need to be a master,” Raff told him. “It is not unheard of for an experienced journeyman like Peter here to sit in judgment and it is only by sheer coincidence I happened to be in the area, but since the man Em and I are following took ship and escaped us and we are waiting for my son to rejoin us, we are more than happy to help out.”

“As glad as I am to accept,” Farelax replied, “if the person you seek sailed away, why can you not board the next available ship to follow him?”

“He’s crossing the Bright Ocean,” Raff replied, “and there are no regular voyages that way from this coast. It could be a year or more.”

“Not from here,” Farelax told him. “We have regular voyages from here to the mainland and back via our own ships.”

“You do?” Raff asked. “I thought very few Kenlienta sailed.”

“That is true,” Farelax nodded, “but those who do, make their lives at sea. How else do you think the people of my city got here? Or those of the two cities to our north? We certainly did not walk.”

“I guess I did not think it through,” Raff admitted. “When is the next ship setting sail?”

“Whenever you are ready,” Farelax told him. “One of the regular ships is down at the docks right now. I will talk to the captain, but I am sure he will be more than happy to wait until your business is done here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t even consider running off before then anyway,” Raff assured him, “and we need to wait for my son and his partner to catch up to us anyway. Peter, I’ll have to ask you to carry a message to del Humo fo rme.” Peter nodded his willingness. “Thank you,” Raff told him and then turned back to Farelax. “Elder, you have just eased my mind on that count. So it is your nephew who is the accused and as I recall Kenlientan society is matrilineal so he is your heir, is that correct?”

“That is so, Raufanax,” Farelax agreed.

“So what crimes is he on trial for?” Raff asked.

“Have you ever been present for a Kenlientan trial, Raufanax?” Farelax seemed to change the subject.

“No, can’t say that I have,” Raff replied. “I know that to speak the name of a Kenlien in association with a crime is considered a strong accusation, but I understand your nephew has already been accused.”

“He has,” Farelax nodded, “but I think it is more important for you to understand the nature of our trials especially as they differ from those in the Green Lands or Crace.” Raff nodded so Farelax went on. “Our trials begin with the judge’s investigation. Many humans have thought our way was needlessly repetitious, since no one is accused until the evidence is strong enough, but when possible the judge of such a case remains aloof from the primary investigations so as to be unbiased at the start of the trial.

“You will begin by interviewing the witnesses and considering the evidence for yourself,” Farelax continued. “It is possible that from your fair and neutral viewpoint there will be no need for a trial.”

“That does not sound very likely,” Raff opined.

“It does not happen very often,” Farelax admitted. “I have only encountered one such case, in fact, but it is a possibility. You will evaluate the testimony and the evidence before it is made known to the public.”

“All right,” Raff nodded, “but shouldn’t I at least know the charges? For that matter are you one of the witnesses?”

“Yes and yes,” Farelax nodded, “but I had thought you might prefer to start after a good night’s sleep.”

“This will give me something to think about while I sleep,” Raff told him.

Farelax considered that. “There have been a series of thefts in one neighborhood of Rathan Jar. Each one is minor by itself, but we have no legal differentiation between major and minor thefts in the singular. We consider the sum of all related acts and when put together this is a major crime. As for the actual things that were stolen I will allow you to learn from the victims. My testimony is about Tranelax himself. I am what you might call a character witness.”

“Okay,” Raff nodded. “So what sort of kid is he? As he is your direct heir, I suppose you are going to tell me he is a fine and upstanding member of the community.”

“If only I could,” Farelax sighed. “Tranelax was a troubled child. His father was killed by a wild cat while out hunting. Tranelax was just one year old at the time and his mother never chose to remarry.”

“I wasn’t aware the Ken did much hunting,” Raff admitted. “Isn’t your economy largely agrarian in nature?”

“Like civilized humans, we grow our own food,” Farelax agreed, “but there are those who still hunt for the same reasons some humans do. Sport, recreation, a chance to just get away for a while or just something different to eat, each person’s reasons vary, of course. Some just do it for the companionship of their peers, but yes, some of us still hunt.”

“Reasonable,” Raff nodded. “So Tranelax’s father died while he was still an infant and I imagine you were too busy to be a strong father figure to him?”

“And too far away most of the time,” Farelax replied. “I have been in Rathan Jar since it was founded some twenty-one years ago. Tranelax and his mother did not join me until five years ago.”

“Ah,” Raff nodded. “When you said his father had been killed by a wild cat I thought perhaps it was one of the cougars native to this continent.”

“No,” Farelax shook his head. “It was a tiger. My family originally comes from what humans call Southern Corisa. In any case, Tranelax grew up without a father and while he has never admitted it, I believe he was bullied by some of his age mates. When he and his mother joined me here, he had trouble fitting in and had a tendency to keep to himself at first and then fell in with a pair of other troublemakers. Those two have since left the city. One managed to turn himself around and, sadly, the other is in a special settlement on the Southern Continent for those with mental afflictions.”

“An asylum?” Peter asked.

“No,” Raff replied before Farelax could. “Many Kenlientan settlements are specialized. Skethit, for example is a scientific colony where they have been developing steam engines of sufficient efficiency as to make them usable in modern industry. They also have whole towns devoted to the cure of various illnesses including those of the mind. I believe I know of the one you mentioned, Elder. I was called to investigate a pair of murders in the city of Sotz Marnas some years ago. It had been thought at first that the crimes had been committed by a human, a natural Wayfarer who never joined the Guild, but I eventually discovered it was one of his neighbors who was at fault. Rather than standing for a formal trial, the man was sent to the Southern Continent for healing. It was hoped that he would eventually be cured of his madness. He was a gifted sculptor.”

“Yes,” Faralax nodded. “There is only one such place where we engage in that sort of healing.”

“Sounds remarkably enlightened,” Peter commented. “Is this where all your convicted criminals go?”

“Not at all,” Farelax shook his head. “A twisted soul is not necessarily a mental incapacity. We only send those who it is felt can be cured. Others must make restitution with interest.”

“There are some crimes for which one can never make restitution,” Em remarked.

“True,” Farelax agreed. “Fortunately, theft is not one of them, but if convicted, Tranelax will spend a decade or more making up for those thefts and will have to give up his chosen career.”

“Which is?” Raff asked.

“In the last two years,” Farelax replied, “Tranelax has been well-behaved and was accepted for training as a magician which is the first step toward becoming an elder. His teachers tell me he has a lot of potential and that since he began his training his behavior has been above reproach.”

“But he was known to steal things when he was younger?” Raff asked.

“How did you guess that?” Farelax asked.

“Why else would he be suspected of a series of minor thefts now?” Raff countered.

“A good point,” Farelax agreed, “although I had thought I was being sufficiently circumspect. His former crimes, long since forgiven ought not to be considered in this trial.”

“But others, I am sure would have mentioned them in time when I asked why Tranelax was suspected this time,” Raff pointed out. “That is, unless he was actually seen stealing something?”

“Nothing so cut and dried,” Farelax replied. “If he had been caught in the act, I doubt we would have had trouble finding an elder willing to sit in judgment. It is the uncertainty and fear of making a life-harming mistake that led us to call for your aid.”

“I see,” Raff nodded, “so what links him to the crimes?”

“As you will learn as you interview all the witnesses, he was seen in the vicinity at the times of the preponderance of the crimes,” Farelax responded. “Not all of them, of course, but…”

“What sorts of thefts are we talking about?” Em asked.

“That is not for me to say,” Farelax replied. “It would be hearsay.”

“Let’s talk about his history, then,” Em countered. “What was he caught stealing as a youth, keeping in mind that these earlier thefts are not to be considered proof of guilt now, of course.”

Farelax was silent for a long time, decided what and how much he could fairly talk about. “Little things; candy, a small toy, a pocket knife. Please understand it was not the nature of the thefts that concerned us so much as the fact that they were committed in the first place. Any child can earn what he wants simply enough by running a few errands, but poor Tranelax did not seem to understand that when he first arrived in Rathan Jar. After a couple of years, however, he began to behave better and made restitution for his previous behavior. After a year, our local elders agreed he had improved enough that he should be given a chance at magical training and he has been considered a model of the perfect student since then.”

“Until now, possibly,” Raff commented. “I assume I will be allowed to talk to him directly.”

“Of course,” Farelax replied. “What sort of trial would it be if the accused did not have the right to defend himself?”

“There have been such instances in history,” Raff told him, “but happily I will not be asked for a death sentence this time.”

“Not for mere theft certainly!” Farelax sounded shocked at the notion.

“In many human nations is it not unusual for a convicted thief to be maimed or even killed,” Raff replied, “depending on the amount of the theft and whether it is a repeat offense. It is thought by some to be sufficient deterrent against such crimes.”

“And yet people still steal?” Farelax asked pointedly.

“I have never held by that notion,” Raff admitted. “If one is starving, the theft of food is a matter of survival. It would be better to help them find a way to pay for their food than to punish them by cutting off their hand or nose or burning a brand on them to mark the crime.”

“Barbaric!” Farelax was shocked.

“I agree,” Raff told him, “but it happens. I prefer your way of seeing it as modifiable behavior, but unlike most humans, I have spent a fair amount of time among the Ken and have had a chance to consider your ways against those of my own kind. This is not to say that I think the Ken way is always better, but in a case like this, yes. I think it will be important to learn what possible motive Tranelax had for allegedly committing these thefts.”

“I cannot imagine any such motive,” Farelax told him.

“Perhaps he had none,” Raff replied. “That would be true if he did not steal any of the missing items. It would also be true if he were pathologically driven to steal. I have heard of cases in which people steal just because they feel like it. It is a sickness such as that town on the Southern Continent tries to cure. I will have to find out the truth of the matter. I suppose we will start to learn that truth in the morning.”

Two

Peter was obviously tempted to stick around and help Raff and Em in their investigation, but his sense of duty prevailed and he left Rathan Jar the next morning with notes from both Raff and Em to Kaz and Chanya to be delivered in del Humo. Raff thanked him for all his assistance so far and over a final breakfast together offered, “Any time you would like to head up a hall, you let me know. I think you definitely have the leadership skills for the job.”

“I prefer to travel,” Peter shook off the offer, “but thank you.”

“Well, keep it in mind anyway,” Raff told him. “Say, have you heard about Senopolis?”

“The moving city on the Eastern Continent?” Peter asked. “I should say so. I’ve been wondering how I could wangle a mission there.”

“They have a small hall there,” Raff told him, “and even if you do not want to be in charge I know they could use a man of your talents there. I could recommend you to that posting.”

“Tempting,” Peter considered. “All right, that could be fun and would show me parts of the world I have never seen.”

“And even if you decide to settle down, the city keeps moving for you,” Raff pointed out.

“A good point,” Peter nodded. “When do I start?”

“I’ll write a note instructing the Congress of Wayfarers to post you there,” Raff told him. “You can deliver it yourself in Taundon and from there you’ll make your way more or less eastward to Senopolis.”

“Thank you, Guildmaster,” Peter told him.

“No, Peter. Thank you!”

Once Peter had left Rathan Jar, Raff and Em got down to business. Farelax presented them with a list of witnesses on which Raff noticed Tranelax was at the bottom. “Are we to interview them in this order?” Raff asked.

“It is customary to interview the defendant last,” Farelax replied, “but as the judge you may do it in any order you choose.

“Hmm,” Raff considered. “I think I would normally want to start with Tranelax with the understanding that I would likely come back to him if any of the other witnesses gave conflicting evidence, but I have no trouble leaving him for last at least for now. I may change my mind as we go along.”

“That is reasonable,” Farelax assured him. “I have skipped ahead on the list several times when it seemed appropriate. I will warn you that regardless of how repetitive it might seem, you will be expected to interview everyone.”

“Well, sure,” Raff agreed. “Even one witness testifying to something the others disagree on could be crucial. I take it, however, that now that Tranelax is actually accused I do not need to use circumlocutions to refer to him?”

“You may speak directly,” Farelax nodded, “at least in those cases in which the witnesses saw him or someone they think may have been him. Some may use his name and others may not depending on their beliefs. I generally refer to a defendant in the same manner a witness does during the investigative stage. In cases in which the witnesses will only be those who were stolen from, they will only be able to give you a list of what was taken.”

“Were any of the stolen items recovered?” Em asked.

“Nearly everything,” Farelax replied, “except for a few coins.”

“Interesting,” Em considered. “I would have thought that Tranelax, or anyone clever enough to be considered a promising magician, could have found a way to keep such items from being found, Were they found on Tranelax’s person or property?”

“I believe that is something I should leave for other witnesses to reveal for you,” Farelax replied. “After you have spoken to others it will be more appropriate to discuss that with me.”

“You have piqued my curiosity, Elder,” Raff replied, “but for now I shall do this your way. I see we do have a list of the stolen items, though. Let’s see. Silverware- two spoons and a fork… seriously? An open bucket of paint. A bowl of candy. Was that with or without the bowl? Just the candy? A hammer, five saw blades, a slice of pie… Oh and there are the coins you mentioned, all small copper pieces. The list goes on in the same vein. Farelax, I’m surprised anyone reported these, except maybe the coins, though I thought the Ken economy was based on barter.”

“We have uses for the metals,” Farelax explained, “and copper coins do have an inherent value. I believe these coins were Cracian.”

“And not very valuable at least in Crace,” Em remarked. “Are they worth much here.”

“As much as an ounce or two of copper,” Farelax replied. “I believe you are missing the point. It is not the value of each theft, but the total value of all the stolen items that makes this a serious crime by our laws.”

“I would be more concerned about the sanity of the person committing so many small crimes,” Em replied. “The only pattern I can detect so far is that there was a rash of petty and likely meaningless thefts. This is not the act of a healthy mind, I think.”

“Our scientists have identified uncontrolled theft of this sort as a mental disorder,” Farelax told them, “although they are not in agreement as to possible causes and treatments. From what I have read Human scientists have not yet chosen to make such a study of the behavior of people. If Tranelax is found guilty, I fear he will spend much of the rest of his life in a medical settlement.”

“It’s possible someone should,” Em told him, “but whether it is Tranelax or someone else, we do not know yet.”

“Does Tranelax have any known enemies?” Raff asked, “or rivals, perhaps? Someone who would benefit in some way if he were no longer in Rathan Jar?”

“I cannot say,” Farelax replied, “but as judge that is for you to decide.” It was only sometime later that Raff realized the extent to which Farelax had evaded answering that question.

They spent the next week walking around the same neighborhood, interviewing various victims of the thefts and other witnesses and slowly began to piece the story together. A typical conversation went as follows;

“According to this, a bowl of candy was taken from your house, Miss Meliana,” Raff began.

“Yes, Honored Raufanax,” Meliana responded nervously.

“Tell me how that happened, please,” Raff requested.

“Well, I was planning to have some friends over for a game of Tawin that afternoon,” Meliana began.

“Tawin?” Raff interrupted.

“It’s a game played with cards, “she responded. “The cards are a human invention. I would have thought you knew of them.”

“It is probably something like Whist, Raff,” Emblem told him. “Does the nature of the game matter?”

“No, of course not,” Raff decided. “I was just curious. All right, so you put the candy in a bowl?”

“Well, I couldn’t very well just throw it across the table,” Meliana laughed.

“Depending on the nature of the candy,” Raff pointed out, “I suppose you might have placed it on a dish, but again that doesn’t matter. When did you discover it was missing?”

“Well, I went to the shop up the street to buy some tea,” Meliana replied. “When I came home the bowl was empty. I refilled it, naturally, but…”

“Is there any chance that you only thought you had filled the bowl?” Raff asked. “I think it would have been easy to bring the bowl out and then get distracted by some of your other preparations.”

“Oh that would be just like me, wouldn’t it, Honored Raufanax?” Meliana laughed nervously, “but no. I distinctly recall having enough for two bowls full when I started setting up and I used the last of the candy when I refilled it.”

“Fair enough,” Raff nodded. “Why did you report the missing candy? Was the loss that distressing to you?”

“Well, not as such, Honored Raufanax,” Meliana denied, “although it does bother me that someone would enter my home uninvited and take something.”

“Yes, the invasion of your privacy is far more important than the loss of candy,” Raff agreed. “Any idea of who did it and why?”

“Well, I know who has been accused,” Meliana admitted, “but I have never met the young man socially and to my knowledge I did not see him in the vicinity that day.”

“And yet is there reason to think he just walked in your front door that day?” Raff pressed.

“Oh, he did not come in through the door, I don’t think,” Meliana replied, “although he may have left that way. I found the window to my kitchen wide open when I got home. I never leave it open like that and there was very little wind that day so I doubt it blew open. I think whoever it was came in that way.”

“Did they do anything other than take the candy?” Raff asked. “Did they break anything or empty out drawers, make a mess?”

“Not at all,” Meliana shook her head. “In fact had it not been for the open window and the candy I would never have known someone had been here at all.”

“And the candy was returned to you?” Em asked.

“Well, it was found somewhere nearby, I am told,” Meliana responded, “but I did not want it back. I mean, who knows what had happened to it. Besides, it’s only candy. I doubt my guests had more than a few pieces while they were here.”

When they spoke to the gentleman from whom a bucket of paint had been stolen, the whole thing made even less sense. “I was painting my house that day like you do. It was the fashion that week to use a lot of red. I had just painted the walls the day before and decided that I didn’t like all that red and thought that making the trim a cheerful yellow might be nice for a few days. So I bought a gallon of paint and poured some into a bucket and then realized I would need a ladder to reach the gutters and the peak of the roof and all. Well you can see that, can’t you?” he pointed at his house which did have a steeply peaked roof. Most of the buildings in town, Raff had noticed, had only slightly peaked roofs and even flat ones. He decided that this man had probably lived in more northern locations where snow was an issue before moving here, or that maybe he just liked a steep roof. Raff also decided it was irrelevant to his investigation and pushed on.

“And when did you discover the loss of the paint?” Raff asked.

“I returned with my ladder, see?” the man told him, “and placed it against the house. Then when I looked around for the bucket it was nowhere in sight, although the brush that had been in it was lying on the grass. I thought some of the neighbor children were having me on, so I just went and filled another bucket. Would not even have reported it had it not been for the other things that had turned up missing, right?”

Of the witnesses who placed Tranelax at or near the scenes of the various crimes, none of them actually saw him take anything or act suspiciously in any way. “Sure I saw him walk past here at about that time,” was the common answer, “but I saw him around most days. There was nothing unusual about that time.”

Raff and Em tried to put a chart together linking Tranelax’s appearances with the various incidents and came up with just barely a thirty percent correlation. Even then, the number was only that high if one considered his being in the neighborhood of the crime within an hour of the event. “Even walking at a normal pace he could have been several miles away by the time of the actual crime,” Raff pointed out. “It’s time we spoke to Tranelax himself.”

“I did not do any of those things,” Tranelax protested when interviewed. The young Kenlien as tall and slim as most of his species were. He had deep brown hair and eyes, but while he had fair skin, it was obvious he spent much of his time during the day outside, for his face and arms were well-tanned by the sun.

“I am disposed to believe you on most counts, young man,” Raff told him, “but as the judge I need to make my decision based on the evidence. Let’s see if we can establish reasonable alibis for you.”

“Alibis?” Tranelax asked.

“It is a Grundish word,” Raff explained. “I am not sure if there is an equivalent in Kenlienta. I mean let’s see if we can prove definitively that you were somewhere else at the times these crimes were committed.”

“I don’t think that can be done,” Tranelax admitted. “I walk around the city a lot. I mean I just go walking, and not to anywhere in particular. I heard there were human scholars on the Northern Continent who do that to think things out and tried it for myself whenever I am troubled or confused or just have a problem. It works sometimes and at the least it allows me to sleep well afterward.”

“Are you troubled or confused a lot?” Raff asked.

“I’m afraid so, Honored Raufanax,” Tranelax admitted. “Did anyone tell you about the trouble I used to get into when I was young?”

“Elder Farelax mentioned it,” Raff admitted, “but he also stressed that you have been remarkably well-behaved these past few years especially since you started to train as a magician.”

Tranelax smiled a little. “Yes, I enjoy that, and I have two good friends that I study with. Some of the times that I am accused to stealing I was on my way to see, uh, one of them. Is that what you meant by ‘alibies?’”

“That could be a valid alibi if you were with them the entire time the crime is thought to have been committed,” Raff nodded. “But what confuses or troubles you now? I would have thought you had managed to put your past behind you and moved on.”

“Honored Raufanax,” Tranelax admitted, “the more I improve as a person, the more I am aware of how bad a person I have been. While I have been forgiven for my past by others, I am not sure I can ever forgive myself, sir. That bothers me a lot because I want to feel I have made good on past debts and even if those I wronged in the past are satisfied, I am not entirely certain that I am. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think so,” Raff nodded. “In some ways you have incurred debts you can never truly repay in your own mind.”

“Yes!” Tranelax exclaimed. “That is it exactly.”

“It is possible you are being too hard on yourself,” Raff told him, “if others have forgiven you, I think you have the right to forgive yourself.”

“Do I?” Tranelax asked uncertainly.

“Obviously that is for you to decide,” Raff told him, “but among some humans we like to say that it is best to pay such a debt forward. Rather than attempting to give further restitution to those who are already satisfied, you should, instead, help others who need it. You can help other young and troubled people for example. Show them how to make good on such debts, help them get started anew.”

“That is an odd way to settle such a debt, isn’t it?” Tranelax asked. “I mean it is a good thing to do in any case, but how does that help the people I have wronged?”

“They have already accepted your restitution, right? Well, they cannot demand more from you,” Raff assured him, “However, I think you will find they will take some pleasure in knowing that while you were a troublemaker once, you will have become an upstanding member of your community and will point to you as an example to others. And rather than doing restitution to individuals, you will be doing it to your city and the entire Ken Nation.”

“But after all this no one will ever trust me again,” Tranelax sighed. “It’s not fair. I have behaved, I really have. Otherwise…”

“Otherwise what?” Raff asked him.

“Never mind,” Tranelax shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, I think. Look can you tell me I won’t be sent away?”

“I honestly do not know,” Raff admitted. “I’m the judge, but I am not the jury. Technically I could just dismiss the case, but that would satisfy no one, not even you, I think. I can see this is going to have to go to trial where, hopefully you will be found not guilty by a jury of your peers, but you know, there isn’t a chance of a death sentence and you still have the rest of your life ahead of you. It is never too late to make good.

“Now there is something I would like from you,” Raff told him.

“Anything,” Tranelax told him fervently.

Raff smiled and replied, “Just a list of your friends. I need some character witnesses who can tell me what you are like and how you normally behave. Someone who might have seen you during even one of the crimes might be nice too.”

Three

Tranelax, it turned out, did not have many friends, or at least it seemed he could only think of two others who might have a good word for him and they were both his fellow magic students, a young man named Haslex and a woman named Riala. Raff and Em tried looking for Haslex first, but when he was not at home or in class, they decided to talk to Riala.

Riala was a serious young woman of the same age as Tranelax. She had long black hair which she kept tied back in a ponytail which exposed her slightly pointed ears. The smooth brown skin of her face was flawless and while the shape of her face seemed slightly elongated by human standards, it was considered the aesthetic ideal among the Ken.

“Yes, I know Tranelax,” she admitted easily. “We have been in classes together since he started training.”

“But not since you started training?” Em asked.

“I was chosen when I was five years old,” Riala replied. “Tranelax was not admitted until two years ago. I do not mean to sound snobbish about that,” she quickly tried to explain. “Tranelax can be sweet and he has been very serious about learning the science of magic.”

“I usually hear it being referred to as the holy art,” Raff replied.

“It is that as well, Honored Raufanax,” Riala replied, “but those of my generation are pursuing the more scientific aspects of the discipline. We are concerned with results that are duplicable and that can be quantified.”

“I am usually just glad when I can get it to work,” Raff chuckled.

“Your accomplishments are great, sir,” Riala assured him respectfully. “I have heard it said there is no one more adept at human Wayfaring than you.”

“I am not so sure of that,” Raff replied. “It is arguable that I am the most powerful Wayfarer, but the most adept? That I do not know. There are many techniques I am only vaguely conversant at. Healing for example. Emblem is far better at it than I am.”

“Emblem L’Oranne Cawlens is as well known in the Ken Nation as is Raufanax,” Riala pointed out, “but you should never downplay your own abilities. You might start to believe yourself.” It was a sententious thing to say and had the sound of something that had been drilled into her from the age of five along with her magical training.

“It is important to know your limits,” Raff countered. “To go beyond them is frequently deadly.”

“But you must never underestimate what those limits are, Raufanax,” Riala smiled.

“I prefer not to fence with aphorisms,” Raff chuckled. “Their points are frequently hard to see but can be all the more deadly for it.”

Riala looked puzzled for a moment and then started laughing. “I must remember that one, Honored Raufanax,” she told him after catching her breath. “The elders frequently catch me at a lost for the appropriate saying. I had thought you were testing me similarly.”

“No,” Raff shook his head. “I believe it is better to be able to think your way out of a situation than to just remember someone else’s advice.”

“Then that was not an aphorism among humans?” Riala asked.

“I just made it up,” Raff admitted.

She considered that. “Thank you, Honored Raufanax,” she told him at last. “I will remember this lesson always.”

Raff nodded, but brought them back to the reason for this interview, “I assume you also know Haslex?”

“Of course,” Riala nodded, sounding somewhat less pleased with the change of subject. “That one. I know Tranelax has a bad reputation and frankly when he first came to this city I did not like him. He did not take anything seriously. He was a child in mind and acted like a boy. He asked me to marry him three years ago and I laughed in his face. Haslex did too and I did not take him any more seriously than I did Tranelax. If you’re going to be an elder you need to put aside childish behavior. You understand that, Raufanax, I am sure. After I turned them both down they changed in their behaviors around me. Tranelax became more serious about, well everything. He did his best to behave respectfully and to make right those things he had done in his youth that he was ashamed of. A year later he requested to be trained in magic and the city’s elders gave their probationary approval.

“Haslex put on a show of turning himself around too and he managed to get a similar probation, but I think it is just a show on his part,” Riala continued. “He may have the elders fooled, but Haslex is still a child. That’s all.”

“Has he continued to ask you to marry him?” Em asked.

“He has,” Riala confirmed, “but I cannot imagine ever agreeing to such a thing. Tranelex, perhaps in a few years. At least he respects my desire to learn over getting involved romantically. Haslex has no such respect for me. I think he sees me as a potential conquest. I am not a prize to be won!”

“So he continues to, uh, pester you,” Raff concluded.

“Pester?” Riala echoed. “Yes, a good word for it. Tranelax, though, he is different.”

“He doesn’t want to marry you?” Raff asked.

“He does,” Riala confirmed. “He has said so repeatedly, but he also understands that I am not yet ready. We study together a lot. Sometimes we have dinner together too. He is a pretty good cook. Did you know that?”

“It’s news to me,” Raff admitted. “So can you account for Tranelax’s whereabouts for any of the times on this list?” He handed her several pieces of paper.

She studied them carefully but shook her head. “Not with any certainty, I’m afraid. I wish I were one of those people who kept a diary. Any of these times might have been while we were studying, but I just do not know. I can say I do not believe that Tranelax would steal even such unimportant things, though. He works too hard and takes magic too seriously to stoop to this. I don’t suppose that helps much, though.”

“A good character witness never hurts,” Raff told her. “Do you think this Haslex would have a good word for him too?”

“He ought to,” Riala told him. “They spend enough time together and have been friends since before either of them started magical training. I honestly do not know what Tranelax sees in Haslex, but I suppose I cannot expect to like all his friends, can I?”

“Friendships are harder to quantify than magic,” Raff shrugged.

Raff and Em spent the next two days walking over the routes that Tranelax claimed to have used while walking while keeping the site of the various crimes in mind. Tranelax had not varied his route by much, according to his own admission. Either he walked down to the harbor or up into the hills and if he had taken a different route it was normally only by following a parallel way a block or two to one side. He generally walked at night starting around dusk, but before folks had gone to bed and sometimes had stopped to chat with people or just watch the birds flying overhead or children at play, but was always out for at least an hour and rarely more than two and a half. He had been doing that for the entire three years since he had started working on his personal reformation and the people along his route had gotten to know the sight of him very well indeed.

“Couldn’t quite tell the time by his passing,” an elderly man confided in Raff, “but it was never a surprise to see him walking by.”

However, all this walking for Raff was marking time until he could find Haslex, the last person on his list of witnesses. So far as He or Em could tell, Haslex had not actually left town, but he was never anywhere he was supposed to be. Elder Farelax was concerned by this as not only was Haslex on his nephew’s character witness list, but all witnesses, including Haslex, had been ordered by the Court of Rathan Jar to make themselves available to Raff. There was no good excuse why Haslex should try to avoid his interview.

They finally found Haslex in the basement of the local equivalent of a high school. “We have had a hard time tracking you down,” Raff told him by way of greeting. Haslex looked as though he was about to bolt out the back way, but as he glanced behind himself, he saw Em blocking his path and he remained seated.

“I’ve been busy,” Haslex replied evasively. “I am not just a student, I am also an assistant teacher here in the school.”

“So are Riala and Tranelax,” Raff countered, “or so I understand, and yet they had time to talk to us.”

Haslex grunted softly at that and turned back to a book on the table in front of him as though it were more important than anything Raff had to talk about. Raff was not feeling particularly patient and knew that Kenlienta tended to get gruff when a plan started falling apart. Many humans did too, of course, but Raff was strongly reminded of a Kenlien in Sotz Marnas named Oronoxis. That particular Kenlien had murdered two of his neighbors, a human woman and her child and had tried to pin the blame on her husband, but Raff had witnessed similar behavior from someone who took his Chess game too seriously as well. He wondered what plan of Haslex’s he had managed to foil by finding him.

Raff started out asking Haslex about Tranelax and the Kenlien gave only a lukewarm testament to his friend. “Doesn’t sound like you like him much,” Raff observed after Haslex’s last bit of faint praise.

“We have not been on entirely cordial terms of late,” Haslex admitted.

“Really?” Raff asked. “And yet Tranelax obviously trusted you well enough to list you as a character witness.”

“He’s hoping I can get him out of trouble again,” Haslex replied carelessly.

“Oh? What sort of trouble have you gotten him out of in the past?” Raff asked.

“I thought past behavior could not be used as evidence in the currently investigated crimes,” Haslex countered.

“This is not yet a formal trial,” Raff pointed out, “and this does qualify in the nature of a character reference. When was the last time you got him out of a fix?”

“A fix?” Haslex asked, askance to the term.

“I’m sure you can figure out what I mean from context,” Raff told him impatiently.

“I do it all the time,” Haslex told him brusquely. “He can’t do a spell, I have to be the one to show him how. He misses a lesson, I show him my notes.”

“Funny,” Raff replied, “but according to both Riala and your teachers, he hasn’t missed a class in two years.”

“Yeah, all right,” Haslex surrendered, “but he really does need coaching when it come to magic.”

“And a good friend should be willing to give him that coaching, I should think,” Em commented from behind Haslex. In response, Haslex turned back to his book, rudely ignoring both Wayfarers. Raff reached out with his mind and abruptly snapped the book shut on the table where it stood for a moment on its spine before falling over to one side.

“Do I have your attention now, kid?” Raff asked, emphasizing the word “kid.”

“Yes, sir,” Haslex replied with a note of respect in his voice. It was a sudden turn-around, but was exactly the response Raff wanted. “The truth is that I saw Tranelax near several of the crime scenes only minutes before those things were stolen and I didn’t want to incriminate Tranelax.”

“So you figured it was better to besmirch his reputation as a magician and potential elder?” Raff asked. “Not very good thinking. That sort of testimony is likely to convict your friend in spite of a lack of solid evidence. Did you see him take any of those objects?”

“Well, no, but he could have been there when it happened,” Haslex told him. “What else am I to think and after the stuff he used to do. You know he used to steal stuff when he was a kid, right.”

“I have been told he was troubled as a child,” Raff admitted, trying to remember if theft had been listed among Tranelax’s indiscretions. “I have also been told that he has worked to make restitution with interest. Fairly admirable, I should think.”

“He was forced to do that,” Haslex replied. “It was that or an asylum town.”

“And yet he chose restitution and according to other witnesses has behaved well ever since,” Raff countered.

Haslex looked surprised at first, “You’re not supposed to argue with a witness, you know.”

“That’s news to me, kid,” Raff told him. “My job is to learn as much about the case as possible so I can preside over the trial fairly.

“Look!” Haslex told him worriedly, “I’m just trying to be a friend and not incriminate Tranelax, but that fact is I saw him in those places and at those times.”

“All of them?” Raff asked skeptically.

“Not all of them, but several times and I know he was out of his apartment during all the crimes,” Haslex replied. “I know that because I live right next to him. I know whenever he goes out and you know where all the stolen items were found, don’t you?”

“Where?” Raff asked. That was one of the many details that Farelax had declined to speak of.

“They were in his study carrel at the city library,” Haslex informed them.

A short time later, Em told Raff, “I do not trust this Haslex.”

“Were you truth-telling?” Raff asked. Truth-telling was a special ability that some Wayfarers could be trained to use and they could tell when someone was saying something they knew was false, It was not admissible evidence in a court but it could still useful in an investigation.

“You know that trick doesn’t work with Kenlienta,” Em replied. “They have no discernable aura of Stability, therefore nothing I can examine.”

“I forget that sometimes,” Raff admitted. “The major differences between Ken and human are cultural. Within their cultural context, there is very little difference in behavior between Ken and humans. People are people when you get right down to it and I sometimes have to remind myself there are some important physiological differences. I have to admit though that there was something I did not like about Haslex too.”

“His story was inconsistent,” Em pointed out. “When we did not accept the first one he came up with another.”

“Yes,” Raff agreed, “but if he really was trying to avoid implicating his friend, then it made a certain amount of sense.”

“Is he really Tranelax’s friend, though?” Em asked pointedly. “For someone trying to protect a friend he was remarkably accusatory once he started talking.”

“That’s consistent with the Ken way,” Raff told her. “They will try to avoid talking about unpleasant subjects, but once you get them to start they are open and honest.”

“Perhaps, but for a friend and one who admitted to not seeing Tranelax actually stealing anything, he sure did his best to make Tranelax look guilty,” Em retorted.

“Well, the stolen items were in Tranelax’s study carrel,” Raff shrugged. “That is a compelling bit of evidence and I think we should take a look at the carrel next.”

“I find it peculiar that the one man who is supposedly Tranelax’s best friend was the only one to tell us that, however,” Em replied, “but yes, let’s go have a look.”

The study carrel of Tranelax was a small cubby set against a west-facing window on the upper floor of one of the few buildings in Rathan Jar that boasted three stories. “Of course,” Raff chuckled as they had entered the building, earning a frown from the librarian, “a library always contains more stories than any other building in town.” Emblem just rolled her eyes, refusing to show any other outward sign to her husband’s joke although there were a few children nearby who giggled.

“Nice view from up here,” Raff remarked. “I wonder how Tranelax ever manages to get any work done. Then again, I wonder how I get any work done in the Guildmaster’s office.”

“For the most part,” Em pointed out, “you don’t. You relax in that office, but when you have real work to do you go down into the basement where the archives are.”

“I’m less likely to be disturbed down there,” Raff told her.

“Naturally,” she agreed. “No one but the archivist knows you are down there.”

“Except you, dear,” Raff added.

“It’s amazing how few of those men ask me where you are,” Em replied.

“At least half the masters are confirmed bachelors,” Raff pointed out. “I doubt they would even think of asking you and as for the rest… Well, Dear you do have a reputation.”

“I have never been less than cordial within Central Guildhall,” Emblem pointed out.

“It must be that red hair of yours then,” Raff chuckled. “You know there are those who think it is a mark of your temper.”

“My fiery temper has nothing to do with the color of my hair,” Em told him, “but the simple fact is when you’re at work, I just do not tell them where you are. It is amazing how much information can be conveyed with a vacant stare and a shrug. Besides, I know how important your work is and if you sat in your office it would never be accomplished, even if you stayed there around the clock. The Guildhall never sleeps and there would always be someone who absolutely had to have the Guildmaster’s ear.”

“I suppose I could just lock the door,” Raff shrugged.

“You have always had an open door policy, dear,” Em reminded him. “If you are in, anyone may see you. I think you have the right of it to work in the archives. That is unless you want a more private office.”

“No,” Raff shook his head. “One office in Central Guildhall is already too many. My private office is at home, but I must say I like these carrels.”

“They are a bit small to accommodate everything that passes your desk,” Em pointed out.

“I suspect that if my desk were an acre in area,” Raff replied, “the paperwork would still cover every square inch. That sort of thing tends to expand to fill the space allotted to it. But this has everything someone really needs. Two shelves for books over the small desk and a lockable drawer for notes. Surely all the stolen items would never have fit in there. It would hold a fair amount of file folders and notebooks, but that was an impressive list of thefts we went through.”

“Let us open the drawer,” Em suggested. “If it is empty, perhaps your estimate is mistaken.”

“We’ll have to ask just where the items were found in either case,” Raff remarked as he reached for the drawer. It was locked, but it took only a mere whisp of Wild energy, properly applied to make the tumblers slide and unlock it. He opened the drawer to find it stuffed with notebooks that, on inspection, were crammed with hand-written scribbles on magical theory, history, physics, chemistry and biology.

“Is this the standard curriculum in the Ken Nation?” Em wondered.

“Excuse me?” a teen-aged boy, his voice just cracking into maturity. “Honored Raufanax? Lady Emblem? I heard you were in Rathan Jar, but did not expect to meet you. I am Willinix.”

“May I help you, Willinix?” Raff offered.

“I thought, perhaps to help you, sir,” Willinix told him. “You see, I was studying here the day they found those things that were stolen. Does that make me a witness?”

“In a sense,” Raff replied. “I am not sure you would be needed in court since we have more direct witnesses to call on, but I would appreciate hearing about what you saw.”

“Okay,” Willinix nodded. “I was working in my carrel over there.” He pointed at a similar carrel in southwest corner, roughly ten yards away. “Actually, I was just painting a design on the wall beneath the book shelf. You know, Change is Life.”

“And Life is Change,” Raff completed the ritual.

“Does the library allow that?” Em asked interestedly.

“Well, we have to get approval from the Elder Librarian or her staff,” Willinix replied, “and they only allow changes like that about once a month. I mean we are supposed to be studying up here, and they never let us carve in the wood, although some people have brought in carved desktops and seats that they place on top of the official surfaces. But my design was based on the geometry problems I have been working with this year so it was allowed. Most people just bring in different pictures or other decorations to change things up. When I’m desperate for a quick change I sometimes just move the books around. I know lots of others who do. It’s not like this is my home, but I think of it in the same way a man might think of his office, so a little change each day makes it feel right.”

“So you were here when someone found the missing items,” Raff got him back on subject.

“Right,” Willinix nodded. “At first I thought some class had just gotten out, but the bells had not rung.”

“Bells?” Em asked.

“On class days, they ring a bell at the start and finish of each class period,” Willinix explained. “Class times in all the schools are the same and since my school is only a few minutes away I can come here during free periods to study. Since there is a quarter hour between classes, I have plenty of time to get back before the start of class, well, unless I need to check a book out, but usually if I do, I just leave it here in my carrel and pick it up later.

“Anyway, when I looked out of the clock tower,” Wilinix continued, “the one on top of City Hall, it was still over a quarter of an hour away. So I stopped painting for a bit to see what was happening.”

“And what happened?” Raff prompted him.

“One of the other students,” Willinix replied, “older than me, I think he is in the advanced studies section, but his carrel is that one just next to this, was leading several elders up here. There were a whole bunch of things under the bench. They were out in plain view, really. Anyone could have seen them. I would have if I walked past here, but I usually come up the other way. They also opened up the drawer like you did and found a printed list of the items and where they had come from. Isn’t that a bit stupid?”

“What do you mean, Willinix?” Raff asked

“I mean, Honored Raufanax,” Willinix responded, “If I had stolen those things… Well, for one thing I wouldn’t have brought them here and left them out in the open like that and I certainly would not have kept a list where it could be found right nearby, or at all,” he added after a moment.

“Some people like to keep track of things like that,” Raff explained. “If they are stealing for the thrill of it, it is sort of like keeping a diary or a journal of one’s personal triumphs. It is not a very smart thing to do, but to steal like that is not the sign of healthy mind in the first place and perhaps he thought it was a safe place to keep such a list.”

“On top of all his other notebooks?” Willinix asked. “I saw them find it. Except for the fact they had to open the lock by magic, it was hardly hidden at all. You know how easy it is. Even I can do it. I forget my key all the time and open my drawer that way. The lock is just there to denote the drawer as private and people respect that. The books on our shelves are available to anyone who needs them when we aren’t here. That’s why they are on the shelves. We have to check them out from the front desk so the librarians will know where they are should anyone come looking.”

“That makes sense,” Raff agreed. “It does seem just a little too pat, as though someone just wanted Tranelax to look bad. Tell me please, Willinix, who was it who led the elders here?”

“I don’t really know him well, sir,” Willinix replied. “I mean…”

“I am not asking you for an accusation, Willinix,” Raff told him. “There is no proof that the person who brought the elders here was the same who left the stolen goods here, is there?”

“I guess not, sir,” Willinix replied uncertainly. “Well, I don’t really know his name. I see him here a lot, but I see everyone who has a carrel on this floor several times a week. Why else would we ask for a carrel if we are not going to use it, right? But I am sure Elder Farelax can tell you who it was. He was the elder in charge of that investigation.”

“All right, Willinix,” Raff nodded. “I’ll ask Elder Farelax about that. Thank you for your help. I might need you in court after all, so just in case, how can I contact you?”

Four

Willinix wrote down his home address for Raff just as a bell sounded and he had to rush back to class, leaving Raff and Em in his wake. “Chatty little fellow, isn’t he?” Raff observed.

“I think he was more than a little nervous about meeting you, dear,” Em told him. “I think it is time we went back to Elder Farelax though. Now that we have seen everything and spoken to everyone on the list he gave us and more, I believe he ought to be a little more forthcoming, don’t you?”

“I should hope so,” Raff agreed. “I understand why he did not want to talk about how everything was found in this carrel, and from a Kenlientan standpoint it makes sense, but we know now so it should be an open subject.”

Elder Farelax was not a happy man to have to admit it, but he told them, “Yes, nearly everything that was stolen was found under the bench in Tranelax’s carrel, and we found a list of all the crimes with the dates and times as well as an accounting as to what was taken in his locked drawer.”

“Where it was right out in the open as soon as you opened the drawer,” Raff added. “Something anyone could have found or placed there for that matter.”

“Anyone with a key,” Farelax agreed conditionally.

“Anyone with even a little basic training in magic,” Raff disagreed. “Those locks only work against honest men and women.”

“Raufanax!” Farelax admonished him. “I am certain you know that only the most reputable young people who come with the highest recommendations are allowed to be trained in the art of magic. We never allow any but the most trustworthy to be so trained.”

“What about Tranelax?” Raff asked. “His record must have spoken against him.”

“We watched him very closely for a year until we were certain he had truly reformed,” Farelax replied stiffly. “Just as in this trial, I recused myself from that decision. Now I am sorry I did.”

“Your nephew takes his reformation very seriously,” Raff told him. “He is worried he has not done enough, in fact. I am fairly certain he is not guilty in this case. The problem is that’s just a gut feeling on my part and there is very little hard evidence to support that. The discovery of the stolen items in his carrel was too transparently staged. Think about it. They were practically out in the open and I want to see that list. Is it even in Tranelax’s handwriting?”

“It was neatly printed in plain letters,” Farelax admitted. “It could have been done by anyone.”

“And does Tranelax commonly print out his notes?” Raff asked. “I saw his notebooks and, frankly, I think your pet cat has to have better handwriting. Tell me, who was the advanced student that led you to Tranelax’s study carrel?”

“Are you accusing him?” Farelax asked.

“Not immediately, but as judge and investigator I am required to learn everything about this case I can. I understand Ken sensitivities concerned with the naming of names in a criminal context, but I will be damned, sir, if I will be forced to convict an innocent man.”

“You are allowed to resign as judge, of course,” Farelax told him.

“Oh it’s not going to be that easy,” Raff shook his head. “I agreed on this commission and I will fill it if it kills me, but I must have full disclosure. All this hiding the evidence from the judge nonsense is going to stop. Now who found that stuff in the carrel?”

Farelax was silent for a few minutes occasionally looking at Raff and Em and finding himself unable to meet them eye-to-eye. Finally, he replied, “His name is Borlix.”

It was not the name Raff had been expecting and he realized this was going to be even more complex than he thought at first. “And?” he prompted the elder.

“He is one of our top students,” Farelax replied.

“He was not one of Tranelax’s character references,” Raff observed. “Did they get along?”

“They may not really know each other,” Farelax replied. “Borlix is four years older than Tranelax and is specializing in geological studies. He is frequently out of the city and, in fact, was not in town during any of the crimes.”

“All right, but I plan to interview him as well,” Raff told the elder.

“That would be difficult,” Farelax admitted. “He is on his way to the Lower Continent just now to study volcanic activity there in comparison to what he has observed to the north of here. We do not expect him back until next year.”

“I really wanted to speak with him,” Raff replied, “but if you say he was not here at the time, perhaps his discovery was serendipitous. From the description, it sounded like anyone might have found the items in that carrel and that is just my point. Why steal all that and then just leave it out in the open with a note that lists what it all is? I don’t accept that was something Tranelax did.”

“Perhaps,” Farelax told him, “but that is what we shall learn in the trial.”

The trial was not exactly like any Raff had ever run in the past. He was acquainted with the Presecutor making his opening statement, followed by the Defender, but in a Kenlientan trial the Judge then conducted the third portion of the trial, simultaneously attacking both the prosecutor’s and defendant’s cases in a fair and unbiased manner. As the judge, it was his prerogative as to the exact form of trial and it turned out there were several variants to choose from.

After studying the various forms, Raff decided that the one best suited to this case would be the “Closed Forum” one in which Prosecutor, Defense, Judge and Jury all acted as a committee of the whole in order to study all aspects of the case. Any of them could summon witnesses and ask questions and all parties were sworn to secrecy with one hand on the Book of Mysteries, also called the Karnabash, a religious text that was curiously venerated both by the Ken and the Church of Meni, although the human church did not allow any but its priests to study it. In this way, names could be discussed in contexts that might not be allowed in a more public venue.

Since the prosecutor was to present his case first, the initial witnesses were the victims. Tranelax’s defender wanted to stipulate what turned out to be three days of repetitive testimony. “We all know what was stolen and when,” she said on Tranelax’s behalf. “We are willing to agree that all these items were, indeed stolen and that in most cases, the additional crimes of breaking and entering into the homes of the victims was committed. Our point of difference is over who committed those crimes, not that they did, in fact, take place.”

“Your honor,” the prosecutor spoke up, “it is important to go over these details to firmly establish the chronology and magnitude of the crimes so that our esteemed jury can deliberate fairly with an understanding of all the facts.”

It was a thin argument to Raff, but most of the jury agreed, so he allowed the long string of victims to testify formally and Em, as administrative assistant to the judge, started charting all they said in court. Her first intention had been to ensure that testimony agreed with pre-trial evidential statements, but as she worked, it became apparent that everyone was going to need a graphic representation of the times and locations that were involved.

After going through the victims, the prosecutor suggested the court tour the area to get an idea of the area and the relative proximity between the various sites. Raff agreed with that even though he and Em had gone over it all in detail previously. They spent an entire afternoon walking through the neighborhood, but when the prosecutor tried to take them to see Tranelax’s study carrel, the defender objected and Raff sustained the objection. “The recovery of the stolen goods and their location has not yet been established in court,” Raff told them. “Furthermore I seriously doubt the jury needs to see the top floor of the library in order to reach a fair verdict. It is enough, I think, that they know it is nearly a quarter of a mile away from the nearest of the crime scenes and if you like, you may point it out as we return to the courthouse.”

“The library is just across the street from the courthouse, your honor,” the prosecutor argued.

“All the easier for you then,” Raff shot back.

“I will then propose a trip there after the evidence has been presented then,” the prosecutor told him cooly.

“You are free to propose anything you like within reason,” Raff told him, “but I have been there already and it is nothing more than a normal study carrel for frequent users of the library. Any evidence has been removed from it so there is no value to this case in spending any time there.”

The next day, the prosecutor attempted to show how Tranelax had the opportunity to commit the crimes in question and began questioning a long string of witnesses who had seen him during his evening walks. As Em added these sightings to her chart they did, indeed, show that Tranelax had been seen in the vicinities of over one third of the crimes during the times those crimes were thought to have been committed. The others were uncertain as there was no one on the prosecutor’s witness list who had seen him on those evenings. That is, until the prosecutor called Haslex to testify.

“Objection!” the defender jumped to her feet. “Haslex is a defense witness.”

“Anyone is allowed to call on any established witness at any time in the trial,” the prosecutor argued.

“This is true,” Raff agreed, “but it is unusual in my experience, at least.”

“Your honor, if Haslex’s willing testimony contradicts anything he has told the defense, we may be forced to file charges against him as a disruptive influence on the case,” the defender announced. “Haslex has agreed to testify as a positive character witness and we were unaware of any other information he might have shared with the prosecution.”

“He did, however, express his knowledge of Tranelax’s whereabouts during the crimes to me,” Raff replied and then turned to Haslex. “Young man, you may well be found in contempt of this court if it turns out you willfully withheld information from the defender and could be guilty of perjury if your testimony as a defense character witness is at odds with what you are about to testify, or indeed if it turns out you are not a positive character witness as you have claimed to be to the defender. Do you understand me fully and completely?”

“I do, your honor,” Haslex replied calmly. His face was a study in seriousness, but Raff remembered Riala’s description of the young man and kept that in mind as Haslex proceeded to list all the times Tranelax was out of his apartment during the crimes. By the time he was done, three days later, there was not a single crime on the prosecutor’s list in which the whereabouts of Tranelax was definitively known to be at home during the entire window of opportunity needed to establish his innocence.

With that, the prosecutor rested and it was time for the defender to start her case. It had originally been her intention to start out with character testimony from Haslex. As Tranelax’s best friend it should have been a strong statement as to Tranelax’s moral rectitude and unlikelihood as a thief, but his testimony for the prosecutor had changed her mind. So far he had done his best to prove Tranelax guilty and only an incompetent defense attorney would call him back now.

Instead she moved on to the rest of her list. Tranelax had neighbors who were willing to speak for him, and classmates. She ran through them all, knowing that her case had been severely weakened by the defection of Haslex, until she got to Riala’s testimony.

“I did not think much of Tranelax on first sight,” she admitted under oath. “He had a reputation as a troublemaker and he did not really take anything seriously. That was a little over three years ago. Then he discovered a love for magic. To be a magician you cannot just want to do tricks, you have to truly love the subject because once you start studying it, the only way you can advance is to do the most boring and repetitive things in order to master even the simplest tricks.

“And it cannot be faked,” she went on. “You can only drive yourself so far without truly loving the discipline, because that is just what it is, a discipline. You have to sacrifice a lot of what other people call fun in order to study and learn. If you don’t love it, it does not matter how good you could be, you’ll never be able to learn enough to do more than the basics.

“When I first met Tranelax, I seriously doubted he would even learn the basics unless he decided he might be able to play practical jokes with what he knew,” Riala told the court. “I am happy to say I was wrong. Tranelax proved himself to be an excellent student. He put aside his childish behavior and grew into a most admirable man. He shows respect to all and spends most of his free time studying. I know because at least one or two hours of that study time each day was with me.”

“Was he with you during the commission of any of those crimes, Riala?” the defender asked.

“I am sorry I cannot say for certain,” Riala admitted. “Most of the time was during the day when we might meet in the library although we have spent a few evenings together, I just cannot say with any real certainty that he was with me when those things were stolen.”

The defender did have one bomb to drop, however, and she did so then. “Riala, you say you met with Tranelax in the library?”

“Yes, that is true,” Riala agreed “We met there most afternoons during lunch and sometimes later and earlier.”

“So you must know where his study carrel is?”

“Of course,” Riala nodded. “The carrels are small, but the benches in them are just wide enough for two people to sit at if they do not mind bumping into each other once in a while. When we had joint projects or were just studying for the same exams we frequently got together in one of our carrels.”

“When you were in Tranelax’s carrel, did you ever see any of the stolen items?” the defender asked.

“No,” Riala shook her head emphatically. “And I can say with a certainty that none of them were there an hour before they were found.”

“How do you know that?” the defender asked.

“I was looking for a book that morning that, when I asked about it at the librarian’s desk, turned out to be in Tranelax’s carrel. Tranelax was in class at the time, so rather than taking the book back to my carrel, I just used his.”

“Is that allowed?” the defending lawyer asked, more out of curiosity than any relevance and to her surprise the prosecutor failed to object.

“Anyone can use a carrel if the person assigned to it is not in,” Riala replied. “It’s courteous to get up and find another if the person whose carrel it is comes back, but I knew Tranelax was in class because I know his schedule. He was in class the next period when the items were found there too, so he couldn’t have put those things there to be found.”

“Objection!” the prosecutor jumped up far too late. “If she was not in the carrel at the time, she cannot know who put them there,”

“I was in the same classroom with Tranelax,” Riala replied. “I do not know who put those things there, but it cannot have been Tranelax.”

“Your Honor,” the Defense piped up, “I wish to enter the following documents into the record at this time. They are the class attendance logs for that week for the classes Tranelax attended. In them the court will note that Tranelax never missed a class during that period. Indeed, as his teachers have already testified, he never missed any classes.”

When the prosecuting attorney got his chance at Riala, he made a mistake. “Young lady,” he began condescendingly, “Don’t you think it is possible all those stolen items were in the carrel when you were there, but you were just too absorbed in your studies to notice?”

“Sir,” Riala returned crisply, “Under your direction, two elders have already testified that the number of stolen items left in the carrel were so plentiful that they spilled out from under the bench and on to the floor under the desk. I would have had to step on them to use the carrel.” It was asking her to speculate, but the Defense chose to let it go without contest as she did with the next ill-considered question.

“Then who do you think left them there?”

“Someone who wanted the crimes attributed to Tranelax, obviously,” Riala replied.

“Objection,” the prosecutor finally realized what he had done. “The witness is speculating.”

“You asked her to,” Raff pointed out and then sighed, “The jury is instructed to not consider the prosecutor’s last two questions.” (Now that they had been asked and answered, Raff knew the jury would draw the same conclusions on their own. “Mister Prosecutor, do you have any acceptable questions for this witness?”

“Miss Riala,” he tried again, saw her calm and determined face and decided to go ahead. “It is said that first impressions are most important. Your first impression of Tranelax was that he was a rowdy, and troublemaker, is that not true?”

“He was at that time,” Riala agreed, “but not now.”

“I’ve also heard that people do not really change.”

“One hears a lot of things,” Riala told him in the same manner an elder might. “One should not believe everything one is told without first verifying the veracity of it for him or herself.”

“And how do you know Tranelax has truly changed then?” the prosecutor pressed, “How do you know he has just not acted better in your presence these last three years?”

“Objection!” the defender piped up.

“I would like to answer that one,” Riala told Raff.

“The question is about what you know and how you know it,” Raff decided. “Mister Prosecutor, are you establishing Student Riala as an expert witness?”

“An expert into her own thoughts,” the prosecutor replied. “Yes.”

“On your head be it,” Raff shrugged. “Go ahead, Riala.”

“It was not all an act,” Riala maintained. “It may have been at first, but no one who was just acting could have kept it up, and certainly no amount of pretending would have made him a magician. That took real work and dedication. It would have shown in his grades and it would have come out in his personality. No, Tranelax may have been a child when I first met him, but most children grow up in time, and so did he.”

“And I suppose he is now the best in your class?” the prosecutor asked.

“No,” Riala shook her head and added without any sign of conceit, “I am.”

“So he’s the second best in class?” the prosecutor pressed.

“His grade average is third highest in the school at this moment,” Riala admitted, “but considering that he had a later start than most students, even being in the same class is an accomplishment. He should be years behind our class, but he worked hard and proved he deserved to be with us.”

“So he is third in your class,” the prosecutor noted. “Out of how many?”

“Three,” Riala admitted, “but…”

“That is all, Miss Riala,” the prosecutor finally scored a point, “Thank you.”

“Don’t get up yet,” Raff told her a moment later. “I have a question.”

“Objection!” the prosecutor turned on him.

“I chose the closed forum form of trial, Mister Prosecutor,” Raff told him. “I have the right to ask questions.”

“You have not so far,” the prosecutor pointed out lamely.

“I haven’t had questions so far,” Raff replied. “This time I do.”

“It could be prejudicial to the case,” the prosecutor persisted.

“You don’t even know my question,” Raff pointed out. “Besides as the judge I am entitled to ask for clarification from any witness regardless of the trial format. I am just free to ask any questions I desire in this one. Sit down, Mister Prosecutor. Now, Miss Riala, I believe you also said that Tranelax had the third highest average in your school, not just your class. Is that, in fact, the case?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” Riala admitted. “The three members of my class also have the three highest averages in the school.”

“Thank you,” Raff replied. He looked over at the jury, but none of them had any questions. So far none of them had done anything but take notes and ask a witness to repeat him or herself.

With the character witnesses out of the way, the defender’s case was near its end, but she chose to have Tranelax testify on his own behalf. The young man spoke well for himself and seemed far more self-confident than he had when Raff had interviewed him. Even the prosecutor was unable to rattle him with a series of rapid fire questions which once forced Raff to step in and instruct the prosecutor, “Either allow the witness to answer your question before moving on to the next or else save the monologue for your closing statements.” The prosecutor objected, so Raff continued, “I do not tolerate theatrics in my court, sir. The purpose of this or any other trial is to establish the facts, not earn you an award as best actor.” It was something he had, in fact, said several times in one form or another to both attorneys.

Finally, it was Raff’s turn to call in witnesses. That felt strange to him since in most cases a judge was supposed to moderate a case, not conduct it, but he decided that there had been insufficient discussion about how the stolen items had been found and he called Willinix to the stand and had the lad repeat what he had told Raff about how Borlix had led the elders to the carrel. The Prosecution tried to use Willinix’s testimony to prove the items had been there longer than Riala had claimed, but Willinix explained that he had come to his carrel from another direction and that he has not really paid much attention to others in the area as he worked on his painting. The Defense then used Willinix to establish that there had been others in the area during that period.

“Oh yes,” Willinix nodded. “There’s always someone working on the top floor, but we all try to stay quiet and not disturb the others. That’s why I noticed the elders coming. They were not trying to be quiet. They were quite loud, in fact.”

Raff then recalled Elder Farelax to the stand to explain how Borlix had come to get him and the other elders. “I was meeting with the others in the library that morning,” Farelax explained. It was time to review the budget so we were in the main conference room on the first floor. Borlix entered and explained that he had found a number of suspicious objects in a carrel upstairs. I was dismissive at first, but the news of the thefts had be all around town and he thought that these might be the stolen items, which they did turn out to be.”

“It would have been nice if we could have asked Borlix himself about how he stumbled across them,” Raff commented. “Why was he allowed to leave Rathan Jar?”

“I did not think he would be needed for the trial,” Farelax replied. “He only found the items and reported that find.”

“This is a closed forum and all within are sworn to secrecy,” Raff reminded everyone in the courtroom, “so I can say this without it being taken as an accusation. How could you be so certain that it was not Borlix himself who put those stolen goods in Tranelax’s carrel and then came running to show them to you?”

“Why would he do that?” Farelax asked.

“Has anyone thought to ascertain his whereabouts during the crimes?” Raff countered. “For that matter, perhaps Borlix is completely innocent, but maybe whoever did put them there just found Borlix and commented something like, ‘Did you see all the junk in Tranelax’s carrel? What’s that all about?’”

“That’s groundless speculation,” Farelax objected.

“Not entirely,” Raff shook his head, “but we aren’t likely to know for certain now, are we?”

As predicted, no one on the jury had witnesses called to testify and the two attorneys went into their closing arguments. The prosecutor emphasized Tranelax’s past behavior and the fact that he could have had the opportunity to commit the crimes while the defender argued that that opportunity is not proof of guilt. And that the only thing connecting Tranelax to the crime spree was the fact that the stolen items were found in his study carrel but could not have been put there by him. She further went on to point out that in the previous three years his behavior had been unimpeachable as per the testimony of several witnesses and that the prosecution had never even attempted to prove that Tranelax had a motive.

Raff, in his turn, spent two hours instructing the jury and then sent them off to deliberate. They continued to deliberate for three days, but when court finally came back into session, their verdict was that Tranelax was “Emphatically Cleared” of all charges, which under Kenlientan law was a stronger verdict than merely “Not Guilty.” It meant that they had no doubt whatsoever that the charges had been groundless rather than simply unproven. Had the verdict been “Not Guilty,” the Prosecutor could have filed an appeal, Raff learned later, but “Emphatically Cleared,” meant there was no allowance for the case to be reopened.

Five

“Honored Raufanax,” Edler Farelax awakened him late that night, “I am afraid we have another problem.”

With the trial over, Raff and Em had returned to the house of Farelax to start preparing for their trip across the Bright Ocean. They were still waiting for Kaz and Chanya to catch up to them, but Raff intended to rush them immediately on board and allow them to relax only once they were on their way at sea.

Raff lifted his head from the pillow and was about to speak, but Emblem beat him to it, “How may we be of service, Honored Farelax?” she asked sleepily.

“I have ordered coffee for you,” Farelax replied rather than directly answering her question. “It should be here by the time you are dressed.”

“Sounds serious,” Raff admitted after Farelax had left the room.

“Of course it is serious,” Em told him. “Last night, Farelax was on top of the world. His nephew and heir was cleared of all charges and his own judgment in allowing Tranelax to train as a magician was vindicated.”

“I liked Tranelax’s reaction better,” Raff smiled. “He just went home to get some sleep. He has been looking pretty haggard. Well, at least now he can put all that behind him. I have a good feeling about that kid.”

“Yes, but what could possibly have happened now?” Em countered.

When they got downstairs, Tranelax was sitting at a table with his uncle. To Tranelax’s credit he allowed Raff and Em to get a few sips of coffee before blurting out, “Haslex has kidnapped Riala!”

“What?” Raff demanded.

“That is what we believe in any case,” Farelax replied. “Last evening a man matching Haslex’s description was seen taking Riala from her home and placing her in the back of a wagon. When asked, he told one of her neighbors that she was ill and that he was taking her to a healer.”

“Why would Haslex do that?” Raff asked.

“Riala’s the most beautiful girl in town,” Tranelax told him as though it should have been obvious. “She’s why I realized I needed to stop being such a child. That’s when I started studying seriously. Haslex and I both courted her, but she just wants to be a magician and eventually an elder and does not want to settle down yet. I accepted that, but Haslex never did. He went on and on about it and would not leave her alone. She finally told him off about a year ago.”

“You mean shortly before all those thefts started?” Raff asked pointedly. “I did not like the look of that kid from the moment we met and I think it is time to put Ken sensitivity about declaring guilt aside. This case is a bit too blatant. If it was Haslex, let’s go ahead and say so.”

“Suits me,” Tranelax nodded although Farelax looked uncomfortable at the prospect. “He left his apartment shortly after I got home and someone who looks just like him was seen driving a wagon out of town with Riala stretched out in the back.”

“And you two want me to track him down and bring him and Riala back?” Raff asked, taking a big gulp of his coffee.

“I have heard it said that a Master Wayfarer can find anyone and anything,” Farelax replied.

“The talent is greatly exaggerated,” Raff replied. “I can follow any trial left by a human and most domesticated animals, except cats, simply because those those animals leave an aural trail in their wake.”

“Cats don’t?” Tranelax asked.

“Your uncle wouldn’t have a pair of cats as pets if they did,” Raff replied. “Animals who have an aura of stability cannot tolerate the Wild for long and while I suppose an Elder could set up an environment suitable for one or two, it would require careful maintenance and equal care to make sure they did not harm guests unable to protect themselves. As it happens, cats are the only pet animal I know of kept by both humans and Ken. They don’t seem to notice any difference between the Wild and a Stability.”

“I have read articles claiming they are two states of the same thing,” Tranelax commented.

“The theory is rapidly gaining adherents,” Raff admitted, “but I think we need to worry about Haslex and Riala just now. I can also follow some objects if they have had a close association with a human or some other factor that increases its inherent energy above the background level.

“A bullet from a musket or rifle, for example,” Raff went on. “Gunpowder releases a small, but intense amount of Wild energy that will leave a trail as the bullet flies. Sometimes that trail can be followed. That wagon, however, is probably not leaving an easy trail to follow, but I have some experience as a tracker using non-Wayfaring and non-magical techniques, so maybe. What sorts of creatures will be drawing it.”

“Horses,” Farelax replied. When Raff looked surprised he explained. “Like our human cousins, we have domesticated horses from their wild relatives, or perhaps I should say semi-wild? The colonists of Palendo and Lorendo have horses and some of them occasionally escape into the Wild. They are the rare beasts able to tolerate both Wild and Stability, like cats. Not all horses can, of course, but we have managed to catch and tame a few for our own usage and it was easier to do than importing the more common beasts of burden from across the Bright Ocean. We do have a few hippogryphs, gryphons and such here, but once we found we could use the available horses, we stopped importing them.”

“Horses,” Raff mused. “No stability aura in your horses though?”

“None I have been able to detect,” Farelax admitted. Just then one of his cats, the tabby, jumped up on the breakfast table. He picked her up and placed her back down on the floor. “I am sorry,” he apologized. “I have never been able to train little Faia from doing that.”

“Could you put her back on the table for a minute,” Raff requested. “I’ve never had a cat, or a dog or any other pet, so have never taken the time to really study one.”

Farelax shrugged and picked the gray tabby back up and put her on the table. She started purring loudly at the attention. When she noticed Raff staring at her, she padded quickly over to him and licked his cheek.

Raff laughed and picked up the cat in his hands and placed her on his lap, stroking her fur gently, still looking closely at her. “All creatures, even Kenlienta, have some small amount of stability in them, even as all creatures, even humans must have some Wild energy as well. It is part of what makes us all alive,” Raff told the others although he was really just thinking out loud.

“This is interesting,” Raff remarked, “This cat does not leave a Stability trail, as I suspected, but if you look carefully you can see a trace of stable energy that runs through it like blood in its veins. Actually I think the energy is flowing with its blood, I’m willing to bet it is mixed in some way with the Wild energy. I should write a paper on this, but for now I’m more interested in what that means for tracking Haslex’s wagon,”

“But how can you do that if it doesn’t leave a trail?” Tranelax asked. “And besides that is a cat. Haslex hates cats. He won’t have one with him.”

“One more count against him then,” Raff shrugged “but if you have learned to observe such things by now, you will see that Faia here contains more stable energy than the average Kenlien. If you can see it, she sort of shines just a little more brightly than you do. I’m willing to bet your horses are the same. They are descended from beasts that can exist in both the Wild and in Stabilities. They ought to contain more Stability than a Kenlien. I’ll check that with some of your other horses, but that will give me something to look for out there, along with hoof prints and wagon tracks.”

“I’m coming with you, Raff,” Emblem told him. “I know what you are like when you’re following a trail and you’ll need someone to watch your back, or just wake you up if a wayward tree tries to fall on you.”

Raff smiled. He knew he could get too focused on such a mission and fail to notice the little things, like volcanic eruptions. He had not actually planned to leave Em behind, but looking back it might have sounded like that was what he had in mind. “All right lets load up some food in our packs, stuff we can eat while on the move. Also, are your horses trained to the saddle?”

“Some are,” Farelax admitted. “Perhaps you would prefer to fly on the hippogryph though?”

“I have never flown on one solo,” Raff admitted. “I do not know the commands necessary to do so. Also, I think they might move too fast for me to track Haslex the way I need to. I’m going to have to travel paths a wagon can follow and when there are forks in the path, as I assume there must be, I shall need to stop and figure out which way he went. If the ground is hard, I might have to go a fair distance both ways along such a path before I pick up a trace of his passing.”

“Another reason two of you are needed?” Farelax asked.

“No, we do not want to get split up if we can help it,” Raff shook his head. “Maybe if we had more of us, but… no.”

“I would send Kenlienta to assist you,” Farelax told him, “but I do not believe anyone in Rathan Jar hunts for the sport of it the way they do in the two northern cities.”

“Less of us to get in each other’s way then,” Raff told him.

Six

“Raff!” Em shouted suddenly and pointed upward.

Raff spun around and followed where she had been pointing off to their right and up the very steep slope. They were riding through a tight mountain pass and there were several boulders rolling and bouncing downhill toward them. It was a clumsy attack. Two of the stones struck intervening trees. There were a pair of loud cracking sounds and one of the trees was uprooted and joined the general fall of debris. Raff drew in the Wild energy. Then he gave everything coming at them a slight push upward and everything went well over their heads, crashing against the cliff to their left. That did not actually stop the rubble from rolling back down that side of the pass, but now it was moving slower and would pass behind them.

“That was too neat to be a random rock fall,” Raff grumbled, looking carefully up hill.

He and Em had left Rathan Jar within an hour of being woken up by Elder Farelax. Since then, they had spent the last two weeks following Haslex as he led them on a winding course that went vaguely northward, but also further inland into a steep mountainous region.

The land here was magnificent, nearly as rugged as what they had experienced in Makret, but with far fewer people. Every once in a while they had crossed the thin pathways of the indigenous people who were known by the generic name of Nasano although that was not what they called themselves. They spotted small domes of Stabilities twice, but because they were chasing Haslex, neither Raff nor Em were tempted to stop in and get to know the natives.

“It’s about time we caught up,” Raff noted, still looking up to where the rocks had fallen from. He could see a trail narrowing trail of destruction as his eyes traced up nearly five hundred feet.

“I don’t see Haslex up there,” Em replied.

“I didn’t expect to see him,” Raff admitted, “but I did hope to spot the horses up there. Looks like he found a ridge to work from. He must have left the wagon somewhere nearby and climbed up. Oh hell,” he swore without much emotion as he spotted movement from several places along the ridge. Half a second later, the sound reached him; the blasts rolled into each other, but both Raff and Em were more concerned with the mountain side that was rumbling down toward them.

“Run!” Em shouted over the roar and they both spurred their horses into motion.

As they galloped up into the pass, Raff summoned the Wild energy to deflect the thousands of tons of stone. It was a task for a giant and as powerful as Raff was, as much power as he could summon, it was not nearly enough. The horses raced on and cleared most of the big stones, but a smaller one, roughly a foot across, smashed into the right rear leg of Em’s horse.

The horse screamed its pain and fell to the ground, throwing Em from its back. Raff saw Em hit the ground and wheeled around to go to her aid. When she did not instantly try to get back to her feet, he jumped down from his own horse and used all his mastery of Wayfaring and Kenlientan magic to shield her. The ground shook and trees crashed all around them, but somehow Raff managed to keep anything from actually hitting either of them until everything stopped moving around them. Em was unconscious, but Raff had little time to tend her. He removed his coat and, bundled up, placed it under her head like a pillow and the stood up to inspect the area.

Both horses were dead, crushed under the rocks and there and a scar of bare rock above him on the mountainside. High up on the slope. Above the freshly cracked stone, he finally spotted the figure of Haslex, making his way confidently along what was left of the ridge.

Raff took control of the Wild energy all around him and molded it into a large ball of white-hot fire and shot it out at Haslex. It shot outward but then most of it reflected back at him and he barely managed to shield himself in time. “Damned energy mirror,” Raff chided himself. “I forgot that was a Ken trick.”

He had never fought a Kenlien before. Until now, many of the tricks that had worked so well against other Wayfarers he had borrowed from what he had learned from his studies in magic. The energy mirror had been one of his own favorite tricks. It instantly reflected any Wild energy back at the one who had cast it. It was also something he had meant to study in more detail, along with a dozen other fascinating techniques of both magic and Wayfaring. He shoved that out of mind and considered what to try next.

While searching for Haslex’s current location, he heard another rumble of a landslide, this time from the western side of the valley and turned to see a cloud of dust rising up over the rubble headed down slope at him. “Is that the only trick he knows?” Raff wondered. This time he did not try to redirect or deflect any of it. Instead, he latched into the energy of the slide itself and turned it back on itself. Using the reverse of the Kenlientan technique to clear snow, he forced every bit of the fall to grind up against itself, forcing it to a halt. It was an unnatural position for all that mass and it would just fall again if he let it go, but this time he had another idea.

Most of the debris downslope he could let go without danger and he let as much go as he could, but then redirected the kinetic energy into the section above him and threw a hundred tons of rock across the valley and up on to the ridge where he had last seen Haslex.

There was a flash of lightning and, at first, Raff thought Haslex had done that, but looking upward he saw a line of black clouds moving down from the northwest. The clap of thunder arrived just as two more bolts of lightning streaked across the sky. He considered using it to his advantage, but the storm was still too far away. Instead, he glanced up at the damaged ridge to the east and had a sudden revelation. He was using the wrong weapons. Summoning all his concentration, he sent a wave of Stability toward the ridge. It would affect the rogue Ken magician in the same way a force thrust would a human. It might kill him, but Raff suspected Haslex had already left the area. As heavy drops of rain began to fall, Raff knew his first priority was to see to Em’s safety.

She was groaning and trying to sit up and Raff’s first thought was to tell her to lie back down, but they were in a horrible position with the on-coming storm. “Slowly,” he cautioned her. I’ll get our stuff. The horse that Em had been riding was buried under tons of debris. Raff was not even sure where its body was now. His own former mount was only half buried and he quickly rolled the stones from on top of it and salvaged his packs. “Good thing I was carrying the tent,” he muttered to himself before noticing the poles had been broken into unusable bits. He could use a tree branch, he decided and went back to help Emblem to her feet.

“Dizzy,” Em complained.

Raff put an arm around her back to keep her steady. “We don’t have to go too far,” he assured her and together they walked a few hundred yard up the pass and then he let her sit down under the shielding limbs of a thick pine tree. Next, with the rain coming down in torrents, he cut a pair of branches to act as tent poles, set up the thin shelter and helped Em into it. “Damn!” he swore, “I left my coat behind.”

“Raff,” Em protested, “don’t go out in that now!”

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he promised. “Put on something dry and try to get comfortable.” Back out in the storm he ran to recover his coat. The cold rain soaked him through and through, but the bundled up coat was still mostly dry and he slipped his arms back in the sleeves.

Raff was headed back to the tent when he decided, instead, to check out Haslex’s last known position. The cliff was sheer where the landfall had taken place, but was merely a steep incline beyond that where trees and grass still grew out of the soil. With the help of a Wayfarers’ lamp, he soon made his way up to the ridge. He had thought he might find Haslex’s body up there, but decided that he would really prefer to bring him in alive so he might stand the same sort of trial Tranelax had to. The driving rain was washing out any foot prints that might have been up there, but when he had followed the ridge after half a mile, he found an indigenous Wayfarer’s path that meandered back and forth along a a switch-back route up the side of the mountain and then back down again. Haslex might not be comfortable too close to the slight Stability of a path, but he was probably good enough to resist the effects to take such an unexpected route.

As Raff followed the path he noticed the locals did not put as much energy into their pathways, but that seemed to make them more flexible and more likely to follow the lay of the land as it changed. Then, Raff got very lucky and found a set of fresh wagon wheel ruts in the softened earth several hundred yards down the other side of the slope. Satisfied he had found where Haslex had gone, he turned around and rushed back to see how Emblem was doing.

“Where have you been?” Em asked sleepily as he entered the tent. She quickly changed that to, “Raff you’re all wet! Change out of those clothes before you get into the bedding with me!”

Raff chuckled, “Glad to hear you’re feeling better.” The tent was small, so he stepped back out into the rain to disrobe. He had not noticed when the downpour had slackened off into a soaking drizzle, but it meant he did not drip as much when he got back into the tent. He tossed the wet stuff into the back corner, and climbed in with his wife.

“So where were you?” Em repeated. Raff told her. “You idiot! Haslex could have been up there waiting for you.”

“He would have been the idiot if he had,” Raff told her. “He has to ambush us, take us by surprise. Even the most accomplished Ken elder would have trouble in a fair fight with a master Wayfarer, especially one who knows a little of their magic. When it comes to the delicate and the creative acts, their magic is simply incredible, but in a fight, we have more and better weapons. Their best is the force thrust and then the energy mirror, but if we’re on guard we can counter them. They have only the most tenuous defense against… well, I don’t have a name for it, but we can thrust stable energy in the same way we can Wild.”

“I suppose we can,” Em agreed, “But wouldn’t an energy mirror just reflect it back?”

“To an extent,” Raff replied, “but the energy mirror is a construct of the Wild and stable energy erodes it rapidly. The amount reflected back at us should not be sufficient to harm.”

“Should?” Em asked sharply. “You don’t know for certain! Raff, pure Stability will snuff out your life as quickly as a force thrust.”

“It’s not hard to resist though, and only their most learned elders could create a Stability in the first place,” Raff shrugged.

“You don’t know that for certain though,” Em told him.

“I admit I have not yet tried it,” Raff told her. “Well, I’ll be careful.” He reached over to hug Em, but as he started to draw her to him she gasped in pain. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my ankle,” she admitted. “It might be a sprain, but I think I just twisted it badly. We’ll see how it is in the morning.”

“You had better stay here when I go looking for Haslex then,” Raff told her.

“It might be nothing,” Em replied stubbornly.

“We’ll see.”

Seven

Em was unable to walk without assistance the next morning although with a pair of make-shift crutches she was able to move clumsily around the campsite. “You’re right,” she sighed at last. “My ankle really is better, but not good enough to keep up with you, dear. Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Raff replied automatically.

“Liar,” Em fired back without much heat.

“Well, I will be this time,” he promised. Em shot him a look that told him she did not believe him for a moment.

Raff walked up the valley they were in and found the path that switched back its way up the mountain. He could have just climbed as he had in the previous night’s storm, but he decided that Haslex might have chosen to double back on his trail and if he had done that, he could do it again and Raff did not want the rogue Kenlien coming up from behind.

However, there was no sign that Haslex had driven his wagon into the valley so Raff went up slope and then back down again until he found the wagon ruts and then continued on. For the next three days, he tracked Haslex relentlessly as the Kenlien continued northward with his wagon. Tracks were hard to find at times and on the second day, Raff would have lost the trail completely had he not encountered a party of hunters from one of the local human tribes.

“White skin,” one of the indigenes hailed Raff in passable Cracian. He was leading a party of five men, four of whom were carrying the carcasses of two deer lashed to sturdy poles.

“Good morning,” Raff replied, holding his right hand up in greeting.

“It is dangerous to hunt alone,” the spokesman continued.

“Especially when hunting one of the Ken,” Raff agreed.

“The ones with no aura,” the tribesman translated. “Our kinsmen to the north trade with them sometimes.” He pulled a finely crafted steel knife from a carved ivory and brass sheath on his belt. “They make many fine tools and weapons.”

“They do, indeed,” Raff agreed. “Have you seen one of them riding in a wagon?”

“We saw him just an hour ago,” the man replied. “Share a meal with us and we shall tell you all you wish to know.”

Raff understood that as much of a hurry as he was in, he would have to “break bread” with these men and thus be considered a friend before they would say more. He consoled himself that he was catching up as he replied, “It would be my honor. I do not have much to add to your feast save some water and some dried meat.”

“No need,” the man replied and gestured toward his fellows, “the hunt has been successful. I am called Liwanu. In the language of your people it means ‘Growling bear.’” He smiled slightly and shrugged.

“I am Raff Cawlens,” Raff replied. “As to what it means, well, Someone once told me that Raff meant ‘Wolf council,’ but then some would tell you it means ‘rabble.’”

“Perhaps both are true,” Liwanu told him as the others began to build a fire and butcher part of the deer they had been carrying.. “I see that you are a medicine man, like me. I believe your word is Wayfarer?”

“That’s correct,” Raff nodded, not bothering to correct the man’s notion that he was Cracian. It did not matter so long as they had a common language. “How else could I make my way in the Wild?”

“It is said the White Men have mighty magic,” Liwanu replied. “It is possible, I suppose that with such magic even one who is not a Wayfarer could learn?”

“Not as far as I know,” Raff replied. “Probably just as well. That would make my life even more complicated than it is now.”

Liwanu laughed easily, “And mine as well. Here, you look thirsty, we have a drink my woman makes from the bark of a tree, that I do not have your word for.” He offered a leather skin filled with some liquid and Raff took a careful sip. The liquid was bitter, but no more so than coffee and it had a healthy spiciness to it.

“Very nice,” he told Liwanu. “I think my wife would want the recipe, but we probably do not have the right sorts of trees at home.”

Food was soon ready and as they ate, Liwanu told Raff what he really wanted to know. “We saw this Haslex or someone who matches your description of him an hour’s walk to the north of here. He paid us no mind, not even to wave in greeting. I thought it odd. His people usually stop to trade.”

“Most of the Ken who travel like that are in business,” Raff explained. “This one has broken their laws and has kidnapped a woman. He is trying to run away with her.”

“I saw someone lying down in the back of the wagon,” Liwanu replied. “She might have been a woman. I thought she was sleeping or sick, but the People without Auras rarely allow us near their sick ones.”

“Our auras can harm them if we are not careful,” Raff replied, “but most of them I consider friends.”

“I understand they are powerful friends,” Liwanu nodded. “You must be a great man to be able to consider them so.”

“Just a man, like any other,” Raff replied modestly.

“I think you belittle yourself, Man Who Councils the Wolves,” Liwanu told him sternly, and then offered, “We would assist you in your hunt if you like.”

“I appreciate the offer, Growling Bear,” Raff told him trading translated name for translated name, “but I would not endanger my new friends. By pointing me in the right direction you have done more for me than you know. How may I repay this debt?”

“There is no debt,” Liwanu shook his head. “This is the least we can do for a friend.”

Raff stayed with them until the meal was over and then, with repeated thanks, he continued on the trail. Having had a chance to rest he found he could jog for a while. It was early the next morning when he spotted the wagon over a quarter of a mile away below him in a valley. The wagon was not moving and it looked like either it was parked on a steep incline or had lost a wheel. Raff rushed forward, and keeping his mind on defense.

It was difficult to maintain an effective energy mirror while running, but it was fortunate he could do it at all when a force thrust suddenly slammed at him from behind. Raff rolled to one side and behind a tree as he tried to spot where the attack had come from. At first he saw nothing unusual. Haslex could have been hiding behind any number of trees and rocks behind and above him, but when the Kenlien tried to set the tree Raff was behind on fire, Raff spotted him about two hundred feet upslope and to the left.

Haslex had planned his ambush well. He had many trees and boulders to hide behind up there. In comparison, Raff only had a few trees to hide his position and of all of them, only the one he was using was wide enough to totally hide him from the view of Haslex’s vantage point. Raff sent off several waves of Stability toward Haslex but aiming was difficult while dodging and deflecting Haslex’s desperate attacks. Raff decided he might have underestimated the young Kenlien’s magical abilities as Haslex fired off mixed salvos of force thrusts, fireballs and even flying rocks. Such a way of fighting was tiring for both combatants and while they could trade shots for a while, they also needed to rest. To make the battle all the more difficult for Raff, he could not move around without exposing himself, while Haslex had a broad area to work from and still have visual shelter from Raff.

They fought that way for over three hours during which Raff’s best tree was destroyed and he was forced to become a moving target. He used some Wild energy to dig a hole in the ground with a small hill in front of it, but it was a desperation move and Haslex bombarded him with fireballs and boulders as Raff, rather than fighting back, increased the hole into a walled trench in which he planned to move around while fighting back.

This time, however, when the bombardment stopped he heard a familiar voice call out. “Okay, Raff! I got him.”

“Kaz?” Raff called back. “What are you doing here?”

“Obeying orders, of course!” Kaz laughed. “You told me to follow along as soon as I could. Sorry about the delay.”

“I meant for you to follow me to Rathan Jar, not here, but I appreciate the help none the less.”

“You’re welcome,” Kaz chuckled. “I don’t suppose you could help me carry this guy down there, could you?”

“He’s still alive?” Raff called back.

“I sure hope so,” Kaz replied. “He’s still breathing anyway.”

“Good,” Raff shouted. “On my way!”

“So what did this guy do?” Kaz asked once Raff had joined him. “You usually get along well with the Ken.”

“Didn’t anyone back in Rathan Jar tell you?” Raff asked in return. “Hmm, should we make a stretcher for him?”

“I wasn’t in Rathan Jar long enough for anyone to give me the whole story,” Kaz admitted. “They told me you were chasing a kidnapper and his victim, so Chanya and I rushed off after you. Nice of them to give us a pair of horses. What happened to yours? Oh, and speaking of horses we can just tie this guy on the back of mine. We’ll have to carry him down by hand, though.”

“The horses Em and I rode off on got killed when Haslex here ambushed us. I’ll tell you the whole story later, but first his victim, Riala, is probably downhill in a broken down wagon,” Raff told him, then notices that Haslex had a blackened eye. “He looks a bit worse for the wear. Was that you?”

“I saw him trying to kill you and thought a good punch would feel better,” Kaz admitted. “I was wrong, though. Nearly broke my hand.”

“Next time just knock him out with a touch of the Wild,” Raff advised and then used his own advice. “There, that should hold him for a few hours.” They carried him down and as Kaz had suggested and tied him across the back of the horse and then led the horse to where the wagon had been left.

“Will you look at that?” Raff commented exasperatedly. “He hobbled his own wagon. There’s nothing wrong with this wheel, he just removed it and left the wagon looking like the wheel had broken.” He climbed up on the tilted bed of the wagon and checked Riala. “Oh good. She’s still breathing too, I think Haslex was keeping her unconscious the same way we are with him.” Raff and Kaz pulled Riala out of the wagon and laid her out on the ground and then Raff reversed the spell Haslex had used on her and the Ken woman opened her eyes.

It took several tries, but eventually she croaked, “Water.” Raff opened his one water skin and allowed her to drink. At first he only let her have a few sips even though she tried to drink greedily.

“Careful there,” Raff advised. “I don’t want you to choke,” but as soon as she demonstrated enough self-control, he allowed her to drain the skin.

“I’ll bet he didn’t feed her either,” Kaz remarked. “I wonder if he even realized this could have killed her.”

“The spell he used slows down the subject’s life processes,” Raff explained, “as though she was hibernating, but it’s not perfect. How’re you doing, Riala?”

“Raufanax?” Riala asked, her voice still raspy. “Could use more water or some hot tea if you have it.”

“I have some in my pack,” Kaz told her, “Good thing you want tea, I left the coffee with Chanya.”

“Where is Chanya anyway?” Raff asked.

“I left her with Em,” Kaz replied. “Em told me which way you went. I later got better directions from your friend, Growling Bear. Since when do you have a council of wolves?”

“Sounds like a good a description of the Guild Congress, doesn’t it?” Raff asked. “Besides, I didn’t make that up. Riala, how are you feeling?”

“Awake, but very stiff,” Riala told him, “and I’m starving. What have you got to eat?”

“Nothing you should put in a completely empty stomach, I’m afraid,” Raff noted. “Let me see what I can find in the wagon. Haslex must have been eating something.”

“Haslex!” Riala shouted hoarsely. She sprang unsteadily to her feet and then spotted Haslex on the back of Kaz’s horse. Raff saw she was about to cast a powerful spell and he intervened by pulling the Wild energy away from her, carefully leaving enough so that she would not lose consciousness.

“Whoa!” he shouted. “They want him back in Rathan Jar more or less in one piece, or at least recognizable.”

Riala, turned on Raff, looking demonically angry for just a moment and then seemed to shrink in on herself. She fell to the ground and curled up for a few minutes. By the time she came back to herself Kaz had her tea ready. She took a sip and apologized, “I am sorry, Raufanax. I have not lost control like that since I was a child. I have shamed myself.”

“Given what he did to you,” Raff told her, “I completely understand your reaction. In some cases I might even have helped, but I doubt you want his death on your conscience. He’s not worth that.”

Riala nodded and went back to sipping the tea. By the time she had finished that, Raff had found some bread, cheese and sausage in the wagon. He warned her to eat only a little at first and make sure she could keep it down and to his surprise, she did. Meanwhile he and Kaz repaired the wagon and with two hours of light left before dusk, they started back to where they had left Emblem.

The Way to Moana Pai’aina

One

Haslex’s guilt concerning the thefts that had been wrongly attributed to Tranelax might have been debatable, but in the matter of Riala’s kidnapping it was so clear that even the normally careful elders did not hesitate to say what he had done.

“I will preside over this trial,” Farelax told Raff and Em the night after their return to Rathan Jar. “This is not a matter of whether he is guilty or not, but as to what the penalty will be. At the very least his mind will be stripped of all memories of how to use magic although he will remember that he was once a promising student who proved himself unworthy.”

“I was not aware that magic could do that without wiping out his entire mind.” Raff remarked.

“It is a very advanced technique and quite dangerous,” Farelax told him.

“It seems to me,” Em onserved, “That in cases where memories are causing extreme anguish, such a technique could be used to heal.”

“In time,” Farelax told her, “it may be used that way, but for now it is too dangerous. Nearly one quarter of the subjects it is used on are killed and that is too cruel a cure for any but the most violently insane. Besides our healers do not agree on whether memories have an effect on mental health or whether it is perhaps the other way around. Still others argue that one has little to do with the other. Perhaps it can be used to heal, but it must be a safer process first. Kenlienta and Human healers have in common the dictum that they must not harm their patients.

“How is Riala doing?” Farelax changed the subject.

“Your nephew is waiting on her hand and foot, it seems,” Em replied. “Actually, she was well on her way to recovery by the time we got back to the city, but you wouldn’t know it by his reaction. I think she’s enjoying the attention.”

“Tranelax is quite smitten with her,” Farelax smiled. “I cannot blame him for that, although it turns out that was what caused all the problems in the first place, you know. Both he and Haslex fell in love with Riala, but she turned them both down. Tranelax took it in a mature manner, understanding that she wanted to complete her training before having a serious relationship. He also understood that his reputation was against him and that he had to reform if he was to ever have a chance with her. Haslex, though, did not react well to the rejection and when Riala remained friendly with both of them, thought it was just a matter of discrediting Tranelax. All those thefts and then placing the stolen objects in Tranelax’s study carrel was because Haslex believed Riala would love him if only Tranelax were out of the way. It’s very sad.”

There was a knock on the door, but beforfe Farelax could get out of his seat, the door burst open and a Kenlientan woman rushed into the room, “Respected Elder!” she gasped, nearly out of breath from having run to the elder’s home. “Fire.”

“Fire?” Farelax asked.

“At the constabulary,” she explained, still panting for breath. “It was Haslex.”

“Did he escape?” Raff asked.

“No, honored Raufanax,” the woman told him.

“He committed suicide,” Farelax explained. “It was not unexpected. A Ken whose conviction of such a major crime is allowed to take his own life rather than face trial. It is the ultimate act of contrition, although most do not usually burn down whole buildings and threaten other lives in the process. We had better go to the scene of the fire if we wish to learn more.”

Rathan Jar had an organized fire brigade and they were busily pumping water on the blaze. “It’s under control, elder,” the captain of the fire fighters reported when he and the Wayfarers arrived. “It will burn for a few more hours, I fear, but the neighboring buildings are out of danger.”

“That is good news at least,” Farelax nodded. “Who was the officer on duty this evening. I would like his report.”

They found the man a few minutes later. “It was unexpected, Elder Farelax,” the chief constable told him. “I have never seen anything like it. Haslex had been quietly lying in his cell. I had my two best men keeping an eye on him in case he tried to use magic to escape. That’s a danger when you deal with a rogue magician, as you know, but he never made a move. He did not so much as draw in the energy to keep himself a bit warm until… Well, he started laughing like a mad man. That’s all, just laughing. And then without warning he drew in a massive amount of energy and before we could stop him, he burst into flame. He died instantly, but he also set everything around him on fire as well. My men were badly burned, but we got them to the hospital. They are in critical condition right now.”

“So Haslex was truly mad,” Farelax sighed. He turned to Raff and Em, “I believe I said that suicide is not uncommon in a case of obvious guilt, but this I could never have expected.”

“It does not sound like remorse,” Emblem opined. “More like one last desperate attempt at revenge. We can be thankful he did not think of doing this at his trial.”

Farelax shuddered, “That would have been horrendous. All the elders would have been in attendance as would everyone he might have wanted revenge on. Let’s be thankful his madness did not lead him down that road.”

None of them slept that night but in the morning, Elder Farelax reminded Raff that he had a ship to catch. “Naturally, Captain Elder Tennix will wait as long as you need, but now that your business is concluded here…”

“There is no need to keep him waiting,” Raff finished the thought. “Do you know when the next high tide is?”

“At two hours and some minutes past Noon,” Farelax replied instantly.

“That was fast,” Raff smiled. “I expected you would have to consult a chart.”

“My city is on the coast,” Farelax responded with a smile. “I try to keep track of the tides. Will you have time to pack?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Raff replied. “Em never lets me completely unpack unless we’re back in Taundon.”

“Then I will send word ahead to Biralatan to expect you,” Farelax told him.

Two

Biralatan was the first Ken ship Raff had ever seen and was as unlike a human ship as it was possible to be and still remain afloat. All elders had a living plant in their keeping that was the badge of their rank and office, but Captain Tennix’s plant was the ship herself.

The construction of a Kenlientan ship was a long and exacting process in which first a large tree was opened up into something that looked like a long dugout canoe. This critical piece was the keel of the ship and its largest branches were shaped into ribs, but there were never enough of those and the trunks and branches of other trees were grafted on where they were needed. Then one, by one, other pieces were grafted in and shaped as the planks and other parts to form the masts, decks, strakes, thwarts and other parts that humans just built out of normal lumber. The entire ship was built with live materials and the crew spent nearly as much time keeping it alive as they did sailing.

Leaves sprouted from the ends of the masts, booms and various other locations that were at the ends of what were once branches and Raff found apples and peaches ripening from the rails that enclosed the poop deck. “It must be a monumental task keeping her alive in sea water,” Raff noted after having met the captain.

“I have a special spell that allows the roots to filter out the salt,” Tennix informed him. Tennix was a powerfully built man for a Kenlien and had the dark brown skin and straight black hair common among his kind that lived on the Southern Continent. He wore more colorful clothing than any Kenlien Kaz or Chanya had encountered, although unlike the formal robes most elders wore, his tunic and trousers were made of sturdy cloth. He also wore several gold chains around his neck and a single thick ring in his right ear. “It needs to be renewed every morning, of course, but the Biralatan is worth it.”

“I’m afraid I do not know that word,” Kaz admitted. “What does Biralatan mean?”

“To tell the truth, I made it up,” Tennix admitted. “It is a composite of two other words in Old Kenlienta, ‘Bir’ mean beauty and ‘latan,’ is one of the words for forest, so together she is the ‘Beauty of the Forest.’”

“I like that,” Chanya smiled. “I was not aware that the Ken made up name words like that.”

“It is not commonly done,” Tennix told her, “but as we built her I knew she needed a name that was hers and hers alone.”

“You built her yourself?” Chaya asked.

“I and my crew at the time,” Tennix told her. “Most of them still sail with me today and may all their lives, at least as long as they stay at sea. I will sail her so long as I live and when I retire or die, she will go with me.”

“Couldn’t a new captain sail her?” Kaz asked.

“Many would wish they could, my friend,” Tennix told him, “and it would do my heart good to know she would outlive me, but that is not the way it works. We are bound to each other, she and I. No other can tend her for long. She might out live me a month, mayhap as long as a year, but only I can keep her healthy and strong. And to tell the truth if she were to die before me, say in a storm or grind against a reef, I don’t know that I would have the will to continue life without her. Biralatan is my love and my life.”

“That’s beautiful,” Chanya sighed. Tennix gave her a charming smile in reponse.

“So how fast can she cross the Bright Ocean?” Raff asked. He thought he was sounding merely curious, but Tennix saw through that.

“We are bound for Sentuk in what you call Corisa,” Tennix replied. “and I know you need passage to Hillena. True?”

“The man I am chasing is headed there,” Raf admitted.

“I cannot say just how long it will take to make the crossing, Honored Raufanax,” Tennix finally told him. No ship can cross this ocean without stopping every now and then. Besides, we trade with some of the humans who live on the islands along the way. I have a cargo bound for Haliki on Moana Pai’ainu, which I believe your people of the Green Lands call the Friendship Islands.”

“Oh,” Raff nodded, suddenly smiling. “The ship d’Alere – that’s his name, Julian d’Alere – is on had a port of call somewhere in the Friendship Islands too. It’s too much, I think to hope he will still be there, but we can at least confirm that he continued on aboard the Rachel. For all we know, he might have gotten on board some other ship headed back to Palendo.”

“Did Huile go with him?” Kaz asked.

“I guess no one told you,” Raff observed. “Huile is dead. He was killed by a woman he tried to kidnap. It turned out she was a potential Wayfarer with a natural knack for magic as well. I would have thought you might have heard about that in del Humo.”

“We were in as much of a hurry to catch up to you when we got to del Humo as we were on arriving in Rathan Jar,” Kaz explained. “By then it was probably old news.

“It might have been at that,” Raff remarked. “Well, Captain, we are here and ready to leave as soon as you are.”

“Honored Raufanax,” Tennix laughed, “You have been too distracted to notice, but we slipped our hawsers shortly after your arrival. We are already in the middle of the harbor and even now my crew is climbing the rigging in preparation of setting the sails.”

Raff smiled and replied, “Then I suppose I should leave you to your work, sir.”

“Thank you,” Tennix acknowledged with a nod of his head. “You will join me at my table tonight?”

“My honor, sir,” Raff replied. As he and the others made their way to their cabins, Raff asked Kaz, “So what’s been going on in the world this past month or two? Em and I have been too busy and out of touch to hear much.”

“The only thing anyone was talking about in Palendo City when I left was the situation in Varana,” Kaz replied. “Most of the talk was over how long it would take Queen Julia’s army to put down the rebellion.”

“What rebellion?” Raff asked.

“Oh you missed that? Mister Baker and his fellows in the Congress published a Declaration of Secession,” Kaz told him.

“That’s going to set the colonies against each other,” Raff predicted. “I mean Bournset Bay and Cobbsland are all in favor, but the southern colonies…

“Apparently they agreed unanimously,” Kaz replied.

“I’d love to hear how they managed that,” Raff replied in wonder. “Did Messrs Baker and Aimes make some sort of deal, do you think?”

“It’s a possibility,” Kaz told him. “Of course, after the Army occupied Pacidelphia, the people of the Colony of Julia were no longer all that anxious to remain loyal subjects of Her Majesty.”

“When did that happen?” Raff asked.

“Shortly after we left,” Kaz replied. “It may even have been our fault. I remember the Navy was not happy about being told when they could or could not sail.”

“And they took it out on the colonists?” Raff concluded, a touch of anger in his voice.

“If they tried taking it out on the Guild, we’d take away all their toys,” Kaz replied, “and they know it. We can’t take all the blame though. Bournset, Cobbsland and Newland were already in active rebellion and the city of Bonford had been occupied, mostly as a move to keep the rebellion confined, but that just inclined the rest of Charlesia to side with the rebels. The colonies of Gontare and New Rossey were in sympathy and New Ebor was split on the subject. When Farring joined the protest over how the matter was being handled in the north, I think that’s what really tipped the scales, but our interdiction of Julia and the subsequent ejection of their royal governor by the colonists might have contributed.”

“It certainly put them in rebellion,” Raff admitted, “at least technically, but the fault was with Governor Spence, not the colonists.”

“You forget about the Posses Commitati running about in backwoods Julia,” Kaz told him. “We never got beyond the borders of Pacidelphia, but the people outside that city couldn’t care less who the queen is and so long if they are left alone wouldn’t care if they were a colony or a sovereign nation. The thing is, they aren’t being left alone. Even though they have been declared outlaws, they are still killing and harassing royal tax collectors and doing a fair amount of damage against Her Majesty’s army when they dare to try to keep the peace. The posses know their swamps and mountains far better than the army does. They know where to hide and where to set up ambuscades. The army really doesn’t have much experience beyond the flat country of the coast there.

“In any case,” Kaz continued, "I wouldn’t feel too guilty about the interdiction and its consequences. It only revealed the anti-royalist sentiment there, it did not create the situation.”

“I think it may have fueled the fires of rebellion, though,” Raff told him. “And if they are anti-royalist, why are they still calling themselves ‘Julia?’”

“Maybe it’s not anti-royalist, then,” Kaz shrugged. “Maybe their gripe is against the Parliament. Mister Winn and his father were never friends of the colonies. It’s also possible the interdiction and the ejection of Governor Spence had no effect on Varana’s decision to declare independence. This is something that’s been coming for a long time. It probably started that winter night in Lonport when Lieutenant Mifflin gave his men the order to open fire.”

“No, that was just another symptom,” Raff shook his head. “Those soldiers were being placed in the homes of suspect colonists as an ill-thought out means of keeping them in line. Building a fort with their own barracks is not so expensive, after all. It’s done almost everywhere else. It started when the colonists were sent to Varana to succeed or die with no support from king and country. The Green Lands had nothing to lose if they failed except the cost of transportation when they started shipping convicts over as indentured labor. Even then, it was cheaper than keeping them in prison, and the Green Lands had a new economic boost when the colonies succeeded.

“The mistake,” Raff went on, “was that if Parliament and His Majesty wanted them to be dependent on, or at least grateful to their motherland, they should have realized that they had to give the colonists something to be grateful for. The main governmental use of the colonies was to have a place for malcontents to go. Military support for the colonists during King Oliver’s War was non-existant for all intents and purposes. The Colonists won only because they outlasted the natives fighting under King Oliver.

“After that, the Colony of New Denmouth was absorbed into Bournset Bay. The colonies north of Charlesia were devastated by the two year war, but the survivors then knew they could defend themselves and fairly brutally too. The problem for the Green Lands, though was that the revenue flow from the colonies dried up and that meant the Green Land’s economy went into decline as well. That was when His Majesty, I think that was Richard IV, Reginard III’s grandfather – he’s the one that went a little, uh, funny at the end – decided that he would extract revenues from the colonies either by trade or taxation and since there was too little trade while the colonies were rebuilding and repopulating, he decided to send his tax collectors, backed up by the Royal Army and Navy.”

“But not in the southern colonies,” Kaz pointed out.

“King Oliver’s War did not extend beyond Charlesia,” Raff replied. “So the tax collectors did not have to go there at first until Bournset, New Hosin and Newland complained they were being unfairly discriminated against, so the easy way to fix that, at least when you’re greedy is to start taxing everyone evenly.

“That was unpopular everywhere,” Raff continued with a laugh. “Had I been around I could have told them it would be. No one likes taxes unless the money goes into their own pockets. That is why I think politicians should never be compensated for their service. Well, that stopped a few years later when Reginard II began to serve as Regent for his father. Bonnie Prince Reggie made lot of friends in Varana by repealing the taxation, of course that only made it worse a generation later when Parliament decided that the war with Crace had been too expensive and that merely capturing Meldan was not enough to pay for the expense so they started taxing Varana again.”

“That didn’t go over any better than it did the first time,” Kaz pointed out.

“Perhaps not,” Raff shrugged, “but Reggie III’s parliament was more insistent than Richard’s had been. I think some of them must have made money on the side as stage magicians, or maybe just sidewalk scam artists.”

“Okay,” Kaz admitted at last, “You lost me there.”

“I mean they started playing a massive shell game with the colonies of Varana,” Raff replied. “Any time the colonists protested one tax, they would repeal it only to replace it with another. Frequently, the new tax was more onerous than the last and it did not fool anyone. They probably would have done better to just impose the first tax and let people get used to it. However, it was too late by then. Varana has had to be self-reliant since its foundation, a lesson the colonists learned during King Oliver’s War and a few other small wars with the native Varanans our history books generally overlook when intervention by His Majesty’s army and navy was too little and far too late. Any attempt to suddenly manage them as a possession and resource of the Crown is a path to tragedy. Even if the combined military of the Green Lands pacified Varana, and I expect them to do just that, a lot of very good men and women are going to die on both sides. Damn!”

“What?” Kaz asked.

“I could damp that all down with a few orders but I am as far from anywhere I can do so from as I can possibly be,” Raff replied.

“We can’t really stop a war, you know,” Kaz replied. “Oh I know we don’t make it easy to go to war, but you and I both know ships do not really need Wayfarers on board and neither does an army. There are enough people in any to keep them from automatically returning to their home Stability and anyone can learn to navigate by the sun and stars. It’s just that most non-Wayfarers do not know how. Refusing to escort too many war parties will just encourage them to learn.”

“You’re right,” Raff nodded. “We do not take sides, but the fact they depend on us means they have to pick their fights carefully.” He looked around and realized the ship was fully under sail now. “Captain Tennix was right, I haven’t been paying attention. I never even heard the commands to set the sails.”

“They weren’t given verbally,” Kaz told him. “I don’t know if all Ken ships are run this way, but Captain Tennix gives his commands silently with signals. Some are by hand, but he flashed a few lights at one point. It’s an amazing system he has and I could swear his sailors pay more attention to him because they have to watch.”

“I don’t see that working on a human ship in any country,” Raff remarked.

“Me neither,” Kaz agreed, “but it works for them. You know it’s cooler out here on the water. I think I’ll go find a jacket to wear.”

Moana Pai’aina

One

“Watching the whales again?” Kaz asked Chanya as he joined her near the bow of the ship. The gunwale strakes of Biralatan had been grafted in from many branches of brilliant pink azaleas that bloomed three times from spring through summer and they had come into bloom during the voyage from Rathan Jar, making that part of the ship Chanya’s favorite place to spend in good weather. She had spent most of the days since they had started to bloom there frequently watching a pod of gray whales that had been following them for over a week and, before that, a pod of dolphins that had cavorted alongside the ship.

“No, we lost the whales the day before yesterday,” Chanya replied. “I’m watching the big white bird up there.”

Kaz followed her gaze. The bird was only mostly white and had very wide black-tipped wings that Kaz estimated at least ten feet across. “That is a large bird, isn’t it? Does it ever flap those wings?”

“Not much,” Chanya replied. “Captain Tinnix tells me it is called an albatross and that it can fly thousands of miles without landing.”

“Out here it would have to,” Kaz laughed. “It seems to be going the same way we are. Does it live in Moana Pai’aina, do you think?”

“They nest on many remote islands in the Bright Ocean,” Chanya told him. “I don’t know if Moana Pai’aina hosts nesting colonies, but it seems likely.”

“Maybe that means we’re almost there,” Kaz remarked.

“They fly thousands of miles without landing,” Chanya repeated.

“Oh, yeah,” Kaz responded with a trace of embarrassment. “So seeing one is no indication of nearby land.”

“Not in the least,” Chanya smiled, “but seeing which way it is flying might be an indication of which direction land is.”

“Maybe, unless they like to just wander around the sky,” Kaz shrugged.

“If it makes you feel better, the captain says we should make land today,” Chanya told him. “Do you know anything about Moana Pai’aina?”

“Not a lot,” Kaz admitted. “We didn’t leave from a town with a Guild library and I had no idea we’d be coming here although you have to admit this is an amazing trip. I don’t think any Wayfarer has ever sailed on a Ken ship before.”

“Probably not,” Chanya agreed. “Except for irregular postal runs, none of us get to Kenlientan settlements very often.”

“Not counting the Yakrut run,” Kaz told her. “With all those elders and their proxies in that city it made a lot of sense to make sure mail came and went at least once a week and, until Raff instituted that run, the office in Gaharenar didn’t have a lot to do but keep track of where they were in relation to the rest of the world and as much as Stabilities move about, it was not something they had to spend much time on.

“Anyway, I’ve been asking the crew,” Kaz told her, “but all they seem to be able to tell me is that the climate of Moana Pai’aina, which shows up on Grundish maps as the Friendship Islands, is ideal and that the natives are friendly so long as you don’t break any of their kapu.”

“What are their kapu?” Chanya asked. “Are there many?”

“It certainly sounds like there are,” Kaz replied. “It might just be the Ken viewpoint though. Courtesy among them is the key to good relations, but they aren’t worried about which fork you use with the fish or what wine to serve with it. The Pai’ainans sound like they have a whole system of what you can and cannot do and when. Admittedly a lot of it seems to be related to their nobility. For example they have a tradition of riding the breaking waves on large wooden boards.”

“How curious,” Chanya remarked.

“It could be fun,” Kaz told her. “I like to swim and I suppose you end up swimming a lot if you fall off the board. Did I mention they stand on them?”

“No, you left that part out,” Chanya responded. “Sounds difficult and dangerous, and wet. Why would they stand on a board in the water?”

“They ride on the board in a standing position,” Kaz corrected her. “It’s sort of like one of those circus performers that stand on the back of their horses.”

“And they do this as entertainment?” Chanya asked.

“I understand it has some religious significance,” Kaz replied.

“Oh, well that makes a lot more sense,” Chanya laughed.

“Laughing at a religious act is probably kapu,” Kaz replied with mock solemnity, “and speaking of kapu, which is why I brought up the thing with the boards, they do not just ride them, there are a whole lot of rules regarding them. One’s rank within their Pai’ainan society determines the size of the board one might use and it’s death to any commoner who rides their board across the path of a noble.”

“Okay, no board riding for me,” Chanya decided. “It’s safer all around that way.”

“As visitors we may have a certain amount of latitude,” Kaz replied. “The Ken tell me they have never had any trouble there. Oh and there’s usually a big feast on the beach with lots of local foods including some sort of paste made from a local root that tastes like the stuff they stick wallpaper up with.”

“Sounds delightful,” Chanya opined. “Tell me why we’re going there again.”

Kaz nearly started to remind her about Julian d’Alere and the fact that Biralatan was the only ship going in the vaguely right direction and then realized she was joking. He flashed her a slight smile and turned to study the large bird overhead.

“Land ho!” a Kenlien shouted from on top of the larger of two masts. Kaz squinted toward the west and saw nothing buy a cloudy smudge on the horizon.

“Looks like all the other clouds I’ve seen out here,” he told Chanya.

“The sailors have more experience with such things,” Chanya replied. “I assume they can tell one cloud from another.

“You think they can see their house from up there?” Kaz asked.

“Let’s tell Raff and Em the world is about to stop moving,” Chanya suggested.

“Excuse me?” Kaz asked, taken aback by the turn of phrase. “I don’t think they’re…”

“Not that,” Chanya laughed. “I mean we’ll have solid land underfoot for a change.”

“I understand Moana Pai’aina is a collection of volcanic islands,” Kaz remarked. “The land might not be all that solid and unmoving.”

“If it were that active no one would want to live there,” Chanya pointed out.

“They’re in the middle of the largest ocean in the world,” Kaz argued. “Where would they go and how would they get there?”

They found out an hour later when a flotilla of long canoes with outriders, filled with smiling natives, came out to meet them. Several men and women from the canoes came aboard the Kenlientan ship and draped wreaths of brilliant flowers around the necks of every on board. Kaz, at first, was amazed that the Ken allowed humans to board and to touch them, but then he realized that the ones who had climbed up the network ladders were all Wayfarers, or at least people with the ability and sufficient training to pull their auras in so as not to harm their Kenlientan visitors.

The Pai’ainans seemed similarly surprised that there were humans on board Biralatan, but they smiled and greeted them in a pidgin of Kenlienta and their own language, welcoming them to their lands. Two of them, a man and a woman stayed on board Biralatan as the canoes escorted her into the harbor where they spotted a human ship of Grundish design.

“That’s not the Rachel,” Raff noted.

“No,” the Pai’ainan man, who introduced himself as Haku, shook his head, “Her name is Ahspahrashun.”

Raff considered that and then realized Haku had spoken the name from memory and he translated. “Oh! You mean the HMS Aspiration. That’s James Carter’s ship. He’s here?”

“Yes, Captain Carter is an honored guest of Moana Pai’aina,” Haku nodded. “Do you know him?”

“We have never actually met, but I have heard of him,” Raff replied. “It is possible he has also heard of me.”

“I believe it is customary among your people for someone to provide a formal introduction,” Haku’s wife, Lokapele, commented in passable Grundish.

“Well, a gentleman is allowed to introduce himself to another gentleman if need be,” Raff replied.

“No,” she shook her head, “there is no need. We shall be happy to introduce you.”

“Well, thank you then,” Raff agreed. “You speak Grundish very well, by the way.”

“Mahalo,” Lokapele responded, “but I am still learning.”

“While I am here I should be learning your language, though,” Raff replied. “This is your home and we should speak your language if possible. Does Mahalo mean ‘Thank you?’”

“It does, but it is also a blessing,” Lokapele replied. ”We use it to give thanks but it literally translates into something like, ‘May you be in the breath of the Divine’ if I understand your words closely enough. We never use it without truly meaning it for that reason. You were greeted with the word ‘Aloha.’ I have had trouble explaining this to some of the men on Captain Carter’s ship, but while we use it to say hello and goodbye it truly expresses peace and compassion, affection and mercy. Aloha is a way of life for us and one literal meaning is ‘sharing life in joy.’ It can take a lifetime to truly express ‘Aloha.’ And it is difficult to explain to those not born to it, but if you like when we have time I shall be happy to try.”

“And I think we should all be happy to learn whatever you wish to share,” Raff told her.

Two

Captain James Carter and two of his officers were waiting for the people from Biralatan as the ship’s boats landed along with their canoe escorts. He greeted the Kenlienta courteously and knew enough not to offer to clasp hands with them. It was not that Kenlienta did not shake hands as humans did, but only an elder could adequately protect him or herself from a human’s innate Stability aura.

“Oh, so you’re the famous Raff Cawlens,” Carter remarked on being introduced. “I must say I would never have expected to find the Guildmaster of the Wayfarers in Moana Pai-aina. Don’t they have you shackled to a desk or something like that.”

“They tried,” Raff chuckled, “but I know how to pick the locks.”

“Really?” Carter laughed. “They teach that in the Guild?”

“I learned it at Dunbridge,” Raff shot back with a twinkle in his eyes.

Carter laughed, “Is that why so many of your classmates ended up in politics?”

“The jails are full,” Raff replied.

“I suppose we could transport them to Sarlron,” Carter remarked.

“Don’t let me stop you,” Raff chuckled. “I’m not sure the other transportees would forgive you though.”

“It would damage the property values,” Carter admitted, “and who knows what mischief they might get up to among the natives.”

“Hmm, hadn’t thought of that,” Raff admitted. “They must have politicians of their own. Everyone does.”

“Good Heavens!” Carter gasped in mock horror. “What if they breed?”

“Good point,” Raff replied. “Send them to Crace instead. It’s a cheaper trip.”

“Several wars notwithstanding, I really don’t dislike the Cracians that much,” Carter laughed.

“Agreed,” Raff nodded, “but it wouldn’t cost as much. Just tell them the Compte de Carais is hosting a ball and when they try to come home, don’t let them back in.”

“That might work!” Carter laughed, clapping Raff on the back. “I must say that if I realized the Guild was run by someone like you, maybe I wouldn’t have joined the Navy.”

“I’m a recent aberration,” Raff admitted, “and I didn’t want the job.”

“Obviously, if you would travel to the other side of the world just to get out of Taundon,” Carter remarked. “Seriously though, what are you doing here?”

“On my way to Hillena actually,” Raff replied.

“By way of the Friendship Islands?” Carter asked, “and on board a Ken ship? I didn’t even know they had ships.”

“Just a few,” Raff admitted.

“And that one looks like a floating herb garden,” Carter observed.

“I think they used some rosemary and thyme in the galley,” Raff remarked. “The whole thing is a living tree. Have you ever met a Ken elder?”

“I can’t say I have,” Carter admitted.

“The mark of an elder is that they hold or wear a living plant everywhere they go,” Raff explained. “Most commonly it is a staff of living wood, but Elder Nienta on the Southern Continent wears an orchid and Elder Nearlina in Skethit wears a flowering wreath. It is common for an elder’s honor guards to carry staves too, but they are not usually alive.”

“What does their Grand Chief Elder use?” Carter asked.

“Leraxa?” Raff asked, “Her title is High Elder and like Nienta she wears an orchid, although hers is a different sort. More of a spray of small yellow flowers where Nienta’s has larger flowers and they are lavender in color or they were the last time I saw them. An elder may change their badge of office or keep several of them so long as they always have one at hand. I believe Leraxa sometimes uses a staff or maybe she just allows her spokespeople to carry them to show they speak for her. I have only been in Yakrut once and Leraxa visited Taundon once, so it is not like I have met her frequently.”

“She was in Taundon?” Carter asked. “I have been missing all the excitement it seems.”

“An accomplished elder may enter a Stability safely,” Raff explained, “but it is a strain and they only do so if necessary. Several master Wayfarers and I did what we could to ease her visit and it was good practice for when a Ken artist came to redesign the hall our Congress of Wayfarers meets in.”

“Seriously?” Carter asked. “You’re not just spinning tales now?”

“I don’t have that sort of imagination,” Raff replied, “and the world is too full of wonders to have to invent new ones, I’ve found. So I hear you’re on your way to find the Northwest Passage.”

“Tried that already,” Carter admitted ruefully. “Too much ice up there on the first try. The ocean north of the Western Continent was frozen solid, though the natives told us it does open up sometimes in the heat of summer, so we plan to go back for another try soon. The locals here are friendly enough, but I can’t speak more than a few words of their language and we left Ponui on his home island about a thousand miles from here.”

“Ponui?” Kaz asked, speaking up for the first time since being introduced to Captain Carter.

“A native man who journeyed with me to the Green Lands on my last trip here,” Carter admitted. “He was quite the hit in the high society of Taundon and I dare say he enjoyed himself more than I did. I would have been happy with a decent pint of bitter or a shot of good Hosinland whisky in a corner tavern instead of all the fancy wines and brandies they insisted on serving. The company would have been more refreshing as well.”

“I know the feeling,” Raff and Kaz sighed in unison. “But, Kaz,” Raff continued. “You must have at least heard of Ponui. He was everywhere in Taundon at one point or other, even in Central Guildhall. We made him an honorary Guildmember. Only fitting since he is a Wayfarer of fair talent.”

“More than I have,” Carter admitted. “That’s the real reason I joined the Navy. I could have been a mediocre Wayfarer or have a chance at being a fair captain. The Navy had more opportunities for advancement.”

“Is that why you brought him with you?” Kaz asked, “to act as your Wayfarer.”

“Not really,” Carter replied, “although it was nice to have someone else around with the talent. He wanted to go and see the country and I knew he would be a curiosity to the nobles who pay the Navy’s bills. With him there, I had a better chance to have a new expedition funded. It’s more interesting than military duty in Meldan.”

“By now you would have been stationed in Varana,” Raff told him. “The colonies there are in rebellion.”

“Really? I saw that coming,” Carter nodded. “Ever since that so-called ‘Rum-punch’ affair in Lonport it was just a matter of time.”

“They stepped back from war several times after that,” Raff pointed out.

“Perhaps, but you say they are fighting now?” Carter countered.

“They’ve been fighting off and on since the Battle of Covenant, almost two years ago,” Kaz told him, “Their recent Declaration of Secession just made it official.”

“Two years, you say?” Carter asked. “I’ve been away longer than that. I really have been out of touch. That reminds me I really ought to introduce my ship’s Wayfarer, but he seems to be off again. Damn the man! I would have been at the Northwest Passage a year earlier if not for him, but every port of call he disappeared for a few days at least. Once he was gone for weeks and always with the same excuse; secret Guild business.”

“Secret Guild Business?” Raff echoed. “I’m not aware of any business the Guild has here, secret or otherwise, but we all have to do courier duty from time to time. Who was assigned to the Aspiration anyway?”

“Master Josiah Whitters,” Carter replied and instantly noticed the frozen expression on both Raff’s and Kaz’s faces.

“Whitters, you say?” Raff asked in studied, neutral tones.

“I wondered what happened to him,” Kaz added. “He been on the missing list since before I started in Central Guildhall.”

“He was a colleague of Giles Harton,” Raff put in. “He resigned from the Guild when I replaced Harton as the Guildmaster. What’s he doing assigned to your ship?”

“I asked the Guild Office in Haristol for a Wayfarer on board,” Carter explained. “I thought it might help to have someone fully trained if we were breaking a new trail. I’m better than your average sailor, but I can’t forge a pathway. Anyway, he volunteered.”

“Master Llewellyn, probably didn’t know he had resigned from the Guild,” Kaz told Raff. “She runs a good hall, but we didn’t exactly circulate a list of those who had quit after ousting Harton and his cronies, did we?”

“No,” Raff shook his head. “I was trying not to alienate the average Guild member who is just doing his or her job and could not care less what the Council or Congress is doing. Sounds like an oversight now, but we were supposed to be keeping tabs on those who left.”

“Most resigned to early retirement and you may recall Samuel Harton accepted a posting to Eastern Kharasia,” Kaz told him. “Although he came back for his father’s funeral and then disappeared. Oh heck…”

“What?” Carter asked.

“That was about the same time we lost track of Whitters,” Kaz admitted. “What are those two up to?”

“I’m wondering if it’s related to d’Alere’s activities,” Raff commented.

“How could it be?” Kaz asked.

“Who is d’Alere?” Carter asked.

“I’m sorry, James,” Raff told him. “That’s no worry of yours, but we’ve been chasing d’Alere for a number of crimes committed as a Guild member both within the Guild and against the public at large for a long time now. I cannot go into details. In any case, it would be an amazing coincidence if Whitters and d’Alere were allies on this. How could they know to meet up in Moana Pai’aina of all places.”

“Are there any other Northern Continent ships here right now?” Kaz asked Carter suddenly.

“Funny you should mention that,” Carter told him. “There’s a Cracian ship named Rachel moored at Lani’aina,” the royal island. That’s the next island to the west of here. I was there until a few days ago, paying my respects to the king and his family. The Rachel is trying to get permission to trade here, but between us and the Ken, the king thinks there are enough outsiders trading here already. Still, given the philosophy of Aloha, they will probably be given permission this once since they are here and they do have goods the Kenlienta do not. Good thing for the Green Lands that we got here before Rachel though.”

“And Whitters is on Lani’aina?” Raff asked.

“I did not say that,” Carter replied, “but you guessed that right enough.”

“James,” Raff asked him, “do you think it would be appropriate for me to pay a social call on His Majesty?”

“I believe it is expected,” Carter remarked. “This is not the Green Lands, Raff, where Her Royal Majesty doesn’t have the time to greet every possible visitor to Taundon. Out here any visitor is new and unusual and to be welcomed directly by King Kaha’i. The Royal family, especially the king, is so tied up in kapu and ceremonies that they can barely move for fear of bringing bad luck to the islands. Fortunately, the spirit of Aloha means they must set an example of welcome to visitors. You would insult them by not paying a visit and while you are probably not going to ever return here, your Kenlientan friends will and so, possibly might I. I am sure I speak for the Ken as well as myself when I ask you not to make our lives more difficult by snubbing King Kaha’i.”

“I hadn’t realized I was required to pay a visit,” Raff replied, “and I certainly have no intention of trying to avoid that, and if Whitters is on the royal island – Lani’aina is it? – then I intend to find out what he is doing there, especially since Julian d’Alere is on the island with him.”

“Be very careful,” Carter warned. “Those kapu I mentioned. The Pai’aians take them very seriously. Break one and they might try to kill us all. That is why we have guides, you know.”

“Is it?” Kaz asked. “I had wondered.”

“It thought it was just a gracious welcoming thing,” Raff remarked.

“It is,” Carter told him. “They don’t want to have to kill their guests. That is also why you were guided to this island. A ship can drop anchor almost anywhere, but if a bunch of smiling natives come out to greet you, you tend to follow them in. However, you can’t just go to the royal island, no matter how important it is to get there. You have to be invited, but don’t worry, the moment that floating forest was spotted, someone ran off to tell the king. You’ll be able to go there in a day or two.”

“But will Whitters still be there in a day or two?” Raff asked.

“If not there then back here unless he plans to swim home,” Carter remarked.

Raff thought that Whitters might have to be swimming home anyway, but kept that to himself.

Three

“I thought the Rachel was here at Lani’aina,” Raff commented as their flotilla of canoes approached the island of the king. It was an impressive formation with over twenty of the long outrigger craft. The natives were wearing wreaths of colorful flowers and chanting as they paddles across the gap between the islands. As they chanted they would beat out rhythms on the gunwales of the canoes with their paddles between strokes

“It’s a big island, Raff,” Carter told him. “Only half the size of the one we just came from but still about forty-five miles across and there’s a lot of land in the way if she’s moored on the other side of the island.”

“It didn’t look that big on the map,” Raff commented.

“Until I got here it wasn’t even accurately placed on any of my charts,” Carter replied. “I understand, though, the Ken have been trading here for nearly a century.”

“Apparently,” Raff replied. “They haven’t made a secret of it. That’s why we had heard of the Friendship Islands. The Ken brought back their descriptions of this and some other island groups and we, in our arrogance, renamed them to suit ourselves.”

“But somehow they never told us exactly where these islands were,” Carter pointed out. “They didn’t share that information, I had to search this place out for myself.”

“Did you try asking the Ken where Moana Pai’aina was?” Emblem cut in.

“No, my lady,” Carter shook his head. “I must admit I did not. Until Raff here mentioned it, I was unaware that the option was open to me. I had heard of the Kenlienta, of course, but everyone knows they live apart from us as though in a different world. Most people think they want nothing to do with the human world.”

“They are very interested in the human world, actually, James,” Em told him. “For one thing they realized long before we did that there is a balance between the Wild and our Stabilities and that balance is crucial to both our ways of life. They also welcome contact between our species, in spite of the difficulties involved in getting us all together.”

“Perhaps my next voyage should be to a Kenlienta city then,” Carter remarked.

“Most of them are inland,” Raff remarked, “but not all. However, while it might be a voyage of discovery for you, it would be along paths that many have traveled before you and I do believe you like to be first.”

“You don’t see a lot of parades given in honor of the second guy to do something,” Carter shrugged, “not that I care much for parades. I just like seeing parts of the world no one else has seen.”

“Me too,” Raff replied, “but generally I’m content to walk or ride my way there.”

King Kaha’i was not really the sovereign of all Moana Pai’aina, but he was the only high chieftain of more than one of the major islands in the chain and even the other chiefs respected him by sending small gifts that some might consider tribute. Em was not particularly impressed by the royal village as they approached it. “I think the settlement we’ve been at the last two days was larger.”

“It was,” Chanya agreed, “but it was not the home of a king.”

“My father was only a baron, dear,” Em replied, “but his estate was larger than that whole village and more people lived there.”

“Em,” Kaz cut in, “far be it from me to disagree, but I have noticed that the Pai’ainans live in fairly small villages. They are larger than the one I grew up in, but still fairly small. Look about, though, and you will see a dozen or more nearby domes of Stability. If you put them together it’s a fair number of people.”

“I suppose,” Em considered. “I had not thought of a settlement as a collection of Stabilities. Different lands, different ways of life. By now you would think I might remember that.”

“You didn’t grow up in a village so small we had to grow our crops in the Wild,” Kaz pointed out. “I imagine these people do the same and fishing is by necessity done in the Wild as well. Trust me on this Em, humans who do not live in cities know how to use the Wild to their advantage even when they have no skill at Wayfaring.”

“We all have our little prejudices, Kaz,” Chanya told him.

“Right now I’m more concerned with the proper etiquette on meeting the king,” Kaz told her.

“We’ve been coached and Haku and Lokupele are in one of the other canoes,” Chanya told him. Their job is to make sure we don’t inadvertently break any kapu. It doesn’t sound like we would in any case so long as we do not attempt to touch the king or any member of his family.”

“I’ve heard he has two little girls,” Kaz replied. “What if they are given to spontaneous hugs?”

“The royals may initiate that sort of thing, but I am sure the princesses have been brought up not to in public,” Chanya replied.

“Why not? The daughter of my chief growing up used to hug visitors all the time,” Kaz pointed out. “It was considered friendly and endearing.”

“Among the Sarahnie,” Chanya countered, “of course. Among the Sanai, we were less demonstrative. Probably, that was the Grundish influence, but maybe not. In any case, I would not worry about it and look to Haku or Lokupele for cues as to when and what to eat.”

If Kaz had expected to find King Kaha’i waiting for them on the beach or even in the village they landed near he was disappointed although there was a royal palace there if you thought of a hut with woven grass walls and a thatched roof of palm fronds as a palace. It was considerably larger than any other dwelling in the village, but compared to the palaces and castles of the Northern Continent it was not much, but then Kaz forced himself to look at it with the eyes of the young boy he had been in Teltoa. The palace was large. It was much larger than his chief’s and shaman’s homes together and then some. Quite a few people could live inside that structure comfortably. However, the king was not at home, at least not in this one.

“He lives here when he goes surfing,” Carter explained before Raff could ask.

“It’s okay, but it’s not beachfront property,” Raff remarked lightly.

“If our king lived on the beach then no one could ever surf there,” Haku explained.

“You couldn’t?” Kaz asked.

“To cross the path of the high chief is forbidden,” Haku explained, “and if he lived at the beach, anyone on his or her board might accidentally cross his path at any moment.”

“Does that only apply on the sea?” Kaz asked.

“No, not at all,” Haku shook his head. “Land or sea it does not matter.”

“But if he comes here sometimes,” Kaz persisted, “how do we know we might not be crossing his path just walking about.”

“But he is not here,” Haku replied.

Kaz demonstrated his own wisdom and maturity by not persisting from that point onward, but privately he had to wonder what difference that made. He eventually decided that much like an aural trail of stability left by a human, the King’s path must have some sort of time limit. Had the disciplines of sociology and anthropology been invented, and if Kaz had taken classes in them he might have thought of this as an accommodation. Taken to the extreme the only way to ensure no one ever crossed the king’s path was to never allow the king to move. However, by only obeying that custom when he was present, the people could relax when he was elsewhere. Kaz could easily imagine certain pathways being reserved for the king and his family, perhaps an entire half of the village, when he was in residence here.

“So where is he in residence today?” Raff asked.

“In Hale ali’i,” Haku smiled, pointing upward toward a tall bluff overlooking the village.

“It means the house of the chief,” Carter translated. “The Pai’ainans have a caste system similar to that in Salasia. The Ali’i is the caste of the chiefs.”

“Are you Ali’i?” Chanya asked Lokupele.

“No, I am Kahuna,” Lokupele replied. “We are the professional class, those who do things that are in high regard in our society. The commoners are Maka’ainana; it is they who fish and farm and also practice the lesser crafts.”

“So it’s off to Hale ali’i now,” Chanya concluded.

“We will not enter the Hale ali’i, Chanya Sanai,” Lokupele told her. “Women and children may not enter the house of the chief.”

“So why did Em and I come here at all?” Chanya asked.

“To meet the High Chief, of course,” Lokupele replied. “He is most interested in meeting women from your land.”

“That sounds ominous,” Chanya commented, keeping her voice as neutral as she could.

“Hmm?” Lokupele asked and then realize what Chanya had alluded to. “Oh no. That would not be allowed. You are not a member of any caste, your rank in our society would technically be the same as a captive of war, except as honored foreigners we treat you as kahuna by courtesy.”

The only way to the house of the chief was to walk up a long winding path for the next two hours during which they had to stop several times while Haku or Lokupele explained the significance of the site or of a holy place that was nearby. Raff and Em compared the stylistic differences between the Wayfarer paths they had forged and the one they were following now.

“This path may have the most interesting pattern I have ever encountered,” Raff pointed out. “It also looks like the Wayfarer who forged it was dancing.”

“I think he or she was walking in a beat pattern,” Em disagreed. “Sort of like three steps forward and then one step backward with pauses to walk in a tight circle and so forth.”

“How can you tell that?” Haku asked, giving them a look of awe mixed with wonder.

“It’s in the pattern of how the energies of the path were woven,” Kaz told him. “I suppose it could have been built like that without the fancy walking pattern with the twists and… hmm, it looks like the Wayfarer was using hand gestures to sort of write a message into the weave.”

“It is a sign,” Lokupele responded. “It is the representation of ‘Aloha.’ You can see it? And see how it was made?”

Chanya glanced at the path where they had paused and tried moving her hands in imitation to what she detected, “No, that’s not quite right,” she told herself out loud and tried again.

“Like this,” Lokupele told her and demonstrated, “but you are so close. We use these gestures in ceremonial dances. That you can not only see the path but be able to see how it was made, though. Only our highest kahuna can do that. Only they can make these paths.”

That’s part of what we do for a living,” Raff told her. “In our lands we are organized as the Ancient and Honorable Guild of Wayfarers. We forge the paths and guide others along them. At least that’s our most basic function.”

“You are high kahuna,” Lokupele nearly gasped and made a quick hand gesture that they learned later was a sign of deep respect.

“In our own lands, perhaps,” Em told her. “I do not understand your system well enough to reply, but here we have no official status. Remember?”

Both Lokupele and Haku were uncertain about that and Raff suddenly realized that while they were Wayfarers too, they were the Pai’ainan equivalents of journeymen. Perhaps they had the potential to be masters or not, but in their society there were techniques or secrets of Wayfaring they were not privy to. Within the Guild there were no secret techniques of that sort. If a Wayfarer wanted to learn how to do something and they had the ability, there was always someone around to train them. Even if they were not capable of forging a path, there was value in having journeymen who understood the theory. Raff wondered how frequently the caste system of Moana Pai’aina kept potential Wayfarers from achieving their potential, but decided he was being too chauvinistic in favor of the Guild’s system. The Pai’ainans had a system that worked for them and they seemed content with it.

Emblem’s thoughts went in another direction, however. If Haku and Lokupele were journeyman-class Wayfarers, how isolated from their society were the masters who were “High Kahuna.” Certainly the High Chief was isolated, both physically and culturally in much the same way Queen Julia of the Green Lands or King Charles XII of Crace were, but what about their top Wayfarers? Were they a priestly caste like those of Salasia? Did they hold themselves aloof from the common folk of Moana Pai-aina? She did not know how to ask such a question politely so decided to just keep her eyes and ears open.

They finally reached the top of the path where it led into a small Stability of the same sort of woven grass huts they had seen elsewhere in the islands, although these appeared to have been built on a slightly grander scale and in the center stood the largest grass hut of all that stood on a raised bed of stone and they all understood that this was Hale ali’i, the house of the chief.

Having been told that women were not allowed to enter, no one in the party was surprised when Haku instructed them to halt where they were at the edge of a courtyard. They only waited a minute before a tall and imposing man wearing an impressive helmet and an even more impressive cloak of red and yellow featherwork. King Kaha’i was a powerfully built man who obviously did not spend his days doing nothing but sitting on a throne. Unlike the monarchs of the Northern Continent, this was a man who went into battle with his army and kept himself in top physical shape for that eventuality.

At first, Kaha’i looked bored and Raff could understand why. If he had only recently been trotted out to meet the people from on board the Rachel and the HMS Asperance, another bunch of foreigners, especially from a Kenlientan ship was hardly a novelty by now. After a moment the high chief’s face cracked into a broad grin and he laughed, “James Carter, my old friend! Back again so soon?”

“I wanted to help introduce my new friends here from the Green Lands,” Carter replied in passable Pai’ainan. “This is Master Raff Cawlens, the chief of our Guild of Wayfarers and his wife Master Emblem L’Oranne Cawlens. His son Master Kazani Basan and, uh,” he faltered a bit and then continued, “Master Chanya Sanai who is…uh…”

“What?” Chanya asked Carter sweetly.

“Are you two together?” Carter asked her in Grundish, wig-wagging his finger back and forth between her and Kaz.

“Depends on the occasion,” Chanya shot back.

King Kaha’i might not have understood the words of their interchange, but he caught the general gist and laughed, “And she is welcome here too. Aloha!”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Raff replied with a bow, he had not been coached in what term of address to use, but apparently Kaha’i had heard it before from Carter and his men at least and accepted it as his due with a polite nod of acknowledgement.

“Come, Raff Cawlens and James Carter,” the high chief gestured to the two men and indicated his house. “Let us discuss matters of importance and then tonight we shall celebrate your arrival.” And then as almost an afterthought, he added, “and your son, Raff Cawlens? Yes, he may join us too.”

“Good of him,” Kaz muttered so softly that only Chanya could hear him, but with a smile carefully in place.

“Be nice,” Chanya warned him in exactly the same manner.

Four

“So what did you and the king talk about?” Emblem asked Raff later as they sat together under an open-walled pavilion with a thatch of palm fronds on the roof. It was raining lightly, which they were assured would end before the afternoon was out.

“He was interested in how many others might be coming here from the Northern Continent,” Raff shrugged. “I got the impression that while he was happy for the trade opportunities he would like to have exclusive access to Northern Continent traders. It would give him a competitive edge against his fellow high chiefs of the various other islands.

“He also wanted to know how many other Northern Kingdom nations might be coming here for much the same reason. He might be the most powerful chief in Moana Pai’aina at the moment, but he recognizes that we have superior weapons and ships and if some of his fellow chiefs get ahold of them and he does not… well, you can see how that went. The Ken have him convinced that they rarely use weapons except for hunting and by and large that is true. They do have weapons, but I know they will not sell them and I did nothing to abuse him of his belief they have none.

“So, yeah, he was mostly interested in what we could do for him,” Raff went on. “I made no promises, but wished him well. In turn, I got to ask about Whitters, d’Alere and the Rachel in general.”

“And what did you learn?” Em asked.

“They were here just three days ago,” Raff replied, “and neither of them made a particularly great impression. I gather they were trying to get him to buy a pig in a poke but he distinctly heard the pig go ‘meow.’”

“A pig that goes meow?” Em asked, awash to the expression.

“All these years in the Green Lands and you’ve failed to hear that one?” Raff laughed gently. “Oh all, right. You already know that not everyone is honest, right? Well there is an old trick in which a person goes to market, supposedly to sell a piglet which, in order to keep the little squealer from getting loose, he puts in a bag, another word for poke.”

“I know what a poke is,” Em informed him.

“Right,” Raff nodded. “Okay, it’s a common enough practice. Well some slick talkers can get you to buy that pig without actually opening the bag to take a look at it. And if they are that good, there doesn’t have to be a pig in the bag.”

“So, instead they put a stray cat in the poke,” Em concluded.

“Or a dog,” Raff added. “Of course a savvy buyer will insist on checking the animal for himself which is where the saying, ‘Let the cat out of the bag’ comes from, although I suppose it could come from the defrauded customer opening the bag later too.”

“So what sort of cat were they trying to sell to King Kha’i?” Em asked.

“He was not really certain,” Raff admitted. “He had already given the captain of the Rachel one-time permission to trade on his islands. He only agreed to meet with them because Whitters came here with James. If anything, though, I would guess that he resented being treated like an ignorant savage and they came in with promises of magic and wonders the like of which he could not imagine.”

“Being from a rare culture that is actually in contact with the Kenlienta,” Em remarked, “I doubt he has trouble imagining what magic can do. But what did they want in return?”

“Us, I think,” Raff replied. “We got very lucky, I think, when James decided to accompany us into the meeting with the king. He likes James and apparently the Asperance initially showed up during a propitious season on his first visit and the people think he was sent here by one of their gods, so when he came with us, it was like the light of Heaven was shining down on us. Anyway, Whitters and d’Alere got worried when Biralatan arrived and probably panicked when they heard that there were humans sailing with the Ken.”

“Well, if any one human would be on board a Ken sailing ship, dear, it would be you,” Em replied, “and d’Alere knows you are chasing him.”

“Right,” Raff agreed. “I was hoping I could catch him by surprise and I had no idea that Whitters had even left the Green Lands, but if they were not working together before they certainly are now. I still don’t know how they could have arranged to meet here.”

“I do not think they did, dear,” Em replied. “Serendipity is a strange goddess, you know and she likes to meddle without prejudice. In this case, the coincidence was in their favor. Next time, perhaps she will work for us instead.”

“Is that my good Menite wife talking about pagan goddesses now?” Raff chuckled.

“I assure you that even the High Priest would agree with me,” Em replied, adding, “Some of the teaching priestesses, though would rap my knuckles with a yardstick for saying things like that, however.”

“Doesn’t surprise me in the least,” Raff nodded, “What I do not know is where those two went after they left here. The only good news is that King Kaha’i gave them their walking papers. He told them he knew nothing of humans who traveled with Kenlienta, told them they were talking nonsense and that they were wasting his time. Apparently d’Alere stared getting angry, but Whitters shut him up before he could do something incredibly stupid. I do not think d’Alere realized that the king is a Wayfarer.”

“He is?” Em asked.

“He is,” Raff confirmed, “and a fairly powerful one too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a truth-teller too which may be why he took such an instant dislike to Whitters and d’Alere and why he trusts James. The natives say their chiefs rule through the use of something called mana. It may be that mana is what we call Wayfaring.”

“And how does he like you?” Em asked.

“I think we got along well enough,” Raff admitted. “I did not go in to make any deals and told him quite truthfully I was just passing through on my way to Hillena. When he asked why I was going there, I told him I was chasing a criminal and that it was my duty to bring him to justice. I gathered it matched up in a distorted sort of way with something d’Alere had told him. Anyway, that was when he told us about the audience he had granted to those two.

“James was pretty incensed his ship’s Wayfarer was playing games like that, but then you already know he has been increasingly annoyed with Whitters.”

“Yes,” Em nodded. “All those mysterious delays on the way. I have been thinking about that. We know he was a confederate of Giles Harton and Samuel Harton never returned to duty after his father’s funeral. Technically, he’s a rogue in that he abandoned his assigned post without officially retiring.”

“It wasn’t exactly a reward to send him into Eastern Kharasia,” Raff pointed out.

“It was not supposed to be,” Em replied. “It was a chance to prove himself loyal to the Guild. We certainly did not trust him in a major hall especially after his faction’s dealing with those three Ken elders.”

“Suranax, Durinia and Gentax,” Raff supplied the names. “Neither I nor the Guild hold any animosity toward them, you know.”

“Of course not,” Em nodded. “But we supported Leraxa’s government and not their attempt to take it over.”

“No,” Raff disagreed, “We supported a government that had been legally constituted over a disruptive coup of dubious legality. Before that, I did not really care about Leraxa and her well-being one way or the other.”

“She snubbed you during the Ken Council of Elders that established her new government,” Em recalled.

“Actually, while I admit that hurt, I forgave that almost immediately,” Raff replied. “What really irked was how she summoned us to her following that Council as though we were her vassals. However, as I said, she built her government legally, but she also knew I was not in agreement that a permanent Council would be good for the Ken Nation. She kept me out of Yakrut until she could consolidate her power. After that, I was not in any mood to be gracious about her apologies. It wasn’t really until I was forced to assume Guild leadership that I completely forgave her. Sometimes there are just things we have to do.”

“Getting back to Whitters,” Em reminded him. “What is he really doing here? Why did he sail with Captain Carter?”

“I don’t know,” Raff admitted, “but I am certain it had something to do with all those times James had to wait for him. He must have boarded the Asperance so he would have a legitimate excuse to visit the Guild’s more remote outposts.”

“Where we also sent those colleagues of Grandmaster Harton who did not leave the Guild outright,” Em pointed out. “They are plotting something. It is hard to believe that Whitters planned to meet with d’Alere, but we know that d’Alere was also plotting against the Guild and its current organization. If they were not allied before, they have obviously formed some sort of alliance now. Find one and perhaps we can find out what the other is up to.”

“Em,” Raff said suddenly. “What are we doing here? If Giles Harton’s faction is working against us we should be in Taundon. Instead, we are on a wild goose hunt halfway across the world.”

“You know as well as I do, that we got here one step at a time,” Em reminded him, “but we do not have to continue the chase. We could sail back to the Green lands with James Carter via the Northwest Passage.”

“If there is a Northwest Passage,” Raff pointed out. “Explorers have been looking for over two and a half centuries ever since the High Priest in Naisa divided the world between Crace and Pangam. No one follows that dictum any longer, but for a while the chance of there being a Northwest Passage to the Bright Ocean was the only hope the Green Lands and Dix had of getting to the East without violating the High Priest’s command.

“James’ expedition is the latest attempt to find it,” Raff went on, “but he tells me that while he got beyond seventy degrees north latitude, there was no such passage such as previous explorers have claimed to have sighted. All he saw were icebergs, which is why he returned here. He’s going to try again at midsummer in the hopes that the ice will have melted sufficiently for a passage north of Maska to have cleared. I suppose I could clear the ice well enough for him.”

“Are you so determined to kill yourself from over-exertion?” Em asked him. Normally her eyes would have flashed with fire when asking such a question, but now she merely looked sad.

“Well, I’d have you, Kaz and Chanya to back me up,” Raff pointed out, “but my point is that even if I clear all the ice in the world, but it won’t help if there is no such passage. We don’t know there is a sea over the North Pole and according to some scientists you can’t freeze sea water.”

“That is nonsense!” Em flashed back at him. “We have both seen the sea frozen on the north coast Voland.”

“They say that is not pure sea water,” Raff pointed out. “It has been diluted by the fresh water of land-bound glaciers falling into the sea.”

“A lovely story,” Em scoffed, “but has anyone of them actually tried freezing sea water? I doubt it. Maybe it just freezes at a lower temperature.”

“Maybe,” Raff shrugged, “but it may never get that cold naturally.”

“How cold?” Em countered. “Raff Cawlens, you are the one with the interest in science. You just dragged me into your fascination with the exploration of our natural world, but I will be damnéd if I have not learned something of the methode scientifique in all our years together. Do not just accept the statements of others when you can prove it through repeatable experimentation. That is what you taught both Kaz and me, is it not?”

“It is,” Raff laughed, “and now that you mention it, I don’t think anyone has thought to test that hypothesis, which is odd since we can do it as easily as I chill my beer. Hmm, we need an accurate thermometer and some way to measure salinity just in case it turns out we are extracting the salt at the same time we are freezing the water.”

“We might be at that, but is not salt water more boyant than fresh?” Em asked. “A boat will float higher in the sea than it does in a river or a lake. Someone must have measured that at least.”

“Good point,” Raff nodded. “Well we can play around with that in our spare time on the next leg of our trip, I suppose, but meanwhile I was saying that while clearing out the ice from a passage is one thing, what if there is no passage? What if the Western Continent is connected to the Eastern along their norther bounderies?”

“Then you will have learned that much at least,” Em replied practically, but then she finally saw the implication Raff was getting at, “and our return to Taundon would be delayed even longer, wouldn’t it?”

“It would,” Raff nodded, “it’s a gamble either way and if we do not know what both Whitters and d’Alere are doing we really do not have enough information by which to make an informed decision. Maybe I’ll just flip a coin.”

Five

The feast, which the Pai’ainans called an aha’aina, that evening surpassed anything they had seen in Moana Pai’aina so far. The meal consisted of a plethora of Pai’ainan foods including a whole roast pig, salmon, poi, many local fruits and a chicken dish that had been made with coconut milk and taro.

The Wayfarers had been taken aback when, for their first meal on Moana Pai’aina, men and women ate separately and expected their visitors to honor the religious restriction that commanded it. By now, however, they had grown accustomed to the practice and while Raff and Em had always enjoyed dining together, since there were times when that was the only opportunity they had to just sit and catch up with each other, they knew that it was always best to adopt the customs of one’s hosts.

To keep the men and women apart during this festival, the food was arranged in two completely isolated areas. However, once they had eaten the people mingled in a central courtyard where drums were being played to provide accompaniment to the men and women who were dancing and chanting in the story-telling dance they called the hula.

“I prefer this form of dance,” Carter mentioned to Raff, “over those I have seen in the more southerly and westerly islands of the Bright Ocean. This is much more graceful and pleasant to watch. Some of them look more like athletic contests.”

“Must be something to see though,” Raff commented.

“It is,” Carter admitted. “I probably ought to write down my memoirs when I get back to the Green Lands. I’ve been told there are a lot of people who would want to read them. At the time I wondered whether there were all that many people who could read, but it never stopped historians and novelists.”

“Literacy has been on the rise over the last few centuries,” Raff pointed out. “If it wasn’t, no one would be trying the spread the news via broadsides.”

“I had not considered that,” Carter admitted, “and I really have been meaning to retire. I tried to do that before this voyage, but the admiralty thought I should be the one to bring Ponui home and then since I was out here they assigned me to finding that blasted Northwest Passage. I suspect that some of the admiralty just do not like me.”

“Sounds familiar,” Raff admitted. “I got the job of serving as the judge for the Lonsport Massacre Trial because the Grandmaster of the Wayfarers and his council wanted a reason to be able to drum me out of the Guild. My son Kaz got a similarly sticky assignment last year because some of the old masters I had given a chance in the reorganized Guild tried to make me look bad by forcing Kaz into a no-win situation.”

“You’re right, that does sound familiar,” Carter nodded. “Is that why you’re not in Taundon? I thought you were still the Guildmaster.”

“I am,” Raff told him, “but in a round about way, that is why I am here. Kaz got stuck arbitrating an agreement over fishing rights on the Grand Banks.”

“Better him than me!” Carter exclaimed. “Not even the Devil is silver-tongued enough to get an agreement on that issue.”

“Then Kaz did the Devil one better,” Raff laughed, “although he did not realize it at the time. He wrote back to me to ask my advice and then made himself scarce in backwoods Varana, telling the delegates they could either wait for his return or come to an agreement on their own. I managed to clear away the work that was keeping me locked up in Taundon and figured I could take two or three months to help out in Varana, but by the time I got there it turned out Kaz had given the delegates all the impetus they had needed to come to an agreement.

“Of course, by then other problems had come up,” Raff went on.

“In Varana they always do,” Carter pointed out.

“Well, some of those problems were typically Varanan,” Raff laughed, “but they led Kaz and Chanya to stumble into one that eventually led us to this Julian d’Alere who, along with several other master Wayfarers, were attempting to destabilize the situation in Varana.”

“They were wasting their time on that one,” Carter laughed. “Varana’s situation has not been stable in a generation or two.”

“Perhaps,” Raff shrugged. “I think that is one of those cases in which everyone is to blame. I’ve been among the Ken for a while but I understand that in lands where the Guild operates, Varana is practically the only topic of conversation lately.”

“All right,” Carter nodded. “I understand that since this d’Alere wight was causing so much trouble that you decided to chase him down, but how did you end up on a Kenlientan ship?”

“We all went looking for him as well as his confederates,” Raff explained, “I got the impression none of them liked me very much. Anyway, d’Alere somehow has managed to stay a few steps ahead of me and I thought he had finally gotten beyond my immediate reach when he boarded the Rachel. There were no ships in Lorendo or Palendo planning on crossing the Bright Ocean and when a Ken elder requested help, I responded. While there may not have been a human ship available to continue the chase in, the Kenlienta like me and Biralatan’s captain was willing to take us with him.”

“Last time I was home it seemed like everyone thought I had the most interesting life-story in the world, Raff,” Carter commented. “But you make me seem boring in comparison.”

“Lucky you,” Raff replied. “How soon can I go chasing after my wayward Wayfarers?”

“King Kaha’i would be insulted if you left before this celebration was over,” Carter pointed out, “but you can leave at first light if that suits you, right after paying farewell respects to him.”

“He won’t take it amiss that I’m running off so soon?” Raff asked.

“To tell you the truth, he has been entertaining us foreigners so much lately,” Carter chuckled, “that he is probably tired of us. He’s not the only high chief in Moana Pai’ainu, but he would like to be and all these festivals are getting in his way.”

“I’m surprised he has been so friendly then,” Raff remarked.

“Well, he sure as hell does not want us dealing with any of his fellow chiefs,” Carter laughed. “On my first stop through here I met some of the others. They’re all friendly as long as they think you might be their ally if they go to war. Kaha’i is far-sighted enough to realize that Aspirance and Rachel are just the first of many Northern Continent ships who will be coming here. He also realizes that the allies he really wants are the people who send us here.”

“You make it sound like this whole archipelago is ready to go up in flames the moment someone sells one of the chiefs a few rifles,” Raff noted.

“Only in their Season of War,” Carter told him. “Each month of the year is dedicated to one of their gods. Each month is a season. I first found these islands during the Season dedicated to Lono, god of the east and of learning and intellect and a bunch of other stuff. I originally approached the islands from the east so they associated me with Lono. You arrived during the Season of Hina, a goddess of healing. The list goes on and I don’t pretend to know all about them.”

“And when is the War Season?” Raff asked.

“That depends on which chief you are talking to,” Carter shrugged. “None of their gods are particularly saintly or evil so far as I can tell. They’re people, just larger than life. In fact if you ask the Pai’ainans, they’ll tell you that most of the gods and goddesses were actual people who lived among them in the past.”

“So not unlike the pantheon of the Tasan Empire?” Raff asked.

“Different attributes,” Carter told him, “but yes, that is pretty much the case. Do you mind if I accompany you tomorrow morning?”

“When I catch up to d’Alere it is not going to be pretty,” Raff warned him, “or particularly safe either.”

“I’ve been in the Navy nearly all my adult life, Raff,” Carter pointed out. “Most of the time it did not involve sailing around the world and adding new coastlines to the map, you know.”

“Perhaps, but this will be fighting with Wayfaring techniques,” Raff pointed out. “Have you ever done that? Can you defend yourself against a force thrust?”

“I don’t even know what a force thrust is,” Carter admitted. “But I know how to load and fire a musket.”

“I can stop a musket ball,” Raff replied.

“Only if you see it coming,” Carter pointed out.

“There is that,” Raff agreed. “I did it once, but you can trust me on this; you really do not want to see a musket ball as closely as I did. Next time I’ll just duck, though I have to admit it scared the willies out of the guy who tried to shoot me.”

“I’m sure it did,” Carter laughed. Just then a scream could be heard from the area where the women were allowed to eat. “What the hell?”

Together Raff and Carter racved toward the area only to be intercepted by Em and Chanya. “You stay out here,” Chanya told them. “Don’t want to break the taboo, right?”

“What’s a taboo?” Raff asked, but neither Chanya nor Em stayed to explain. Carter did, however.

“It’s a word from another part of the Bright Ocean,” he told them. “It’s pretty much the same concept as what the Pai’ainans call kapu. That which is taboo or kapu is forbidden, and she is right. We must not break the kapu.”

However, they did not have long to wait and a few minutes later Kaha’i ordered that all eating stop. Then he and his men, lesser chiefs and kahunas, charged into the women’s area with Raff, Kaz and Carter close behind. “What has happened?” the King demanded.

“Great Chief!” one of the women explained, fear and anguish in her voice, “There were two men. Men with white skin.”

“Your people, James Carter?” Kaha’i asked.

“All my sailors are back on my ship, Great Chief,” Carter replied. “He might have been from the Rachel.”

“Or it might have been Whitters and d’Alere,” Raff replied. “In which case tracking them down is my responsilibity.”

“Yours, Raff Cawlens?” Kaha’i asked.

“They are both members of my Guild, Your Majesty,” Raff replied, “or they were. If this crime was committed by them I will not rest until they have been made to pay.”

“The penalty for this crime is to be sacrificed to Pele during her season,” Kaha’i replied.”

“If they did this and there is enough of them left to satisfy your goddess,” Raff replied, “she will be welcome to them.”

“Raff,” Em cut in, “we do not know that either d’Alere or Whitters was involved.”

“If not them, then somone from the Rachel,” Raff replied. “Either way, I want to help.”

“You have one day, Raff Cawlens,” the king told him. “After that, all people who are not Pai’ainan will be banned from Lani’aina. I know you are my friend, but my land has been defiled and must be purified.”

“One day,” Raff nodded. “Where is the Rachel?”

“About thirty miles away,” Carter told him.

“No time to waste then,” Raff remarked. “Where did this happen?”

“Over here,” Em told him, “There is a distinct set of traces leading away. I think you’re right about it being Whitters, d’Alere or both involved.”

“We’ll find out,” Raff told her.

“I’m coming with you,” Carter told them as he attached a cutlass to his belt.

“Actually, I was hoping you would sail Aspirance around to where the Rachel is,” Raff replied. “We may have to give chase.”

“Already took care of that,” Carter replied. “I sent word back with Haku.”

“Won’t your ship need you to find its way through the Wild?” Raff asked. “Whitters isn’t there to guide them.”

“If they stay in sight of land, they don’t really need me,” Carter replied, “but that was why I sent Haku. He’s a kahuna Wayfarer. I thought you knew that.”

“I did,” Raff nodded, “but it slipped my mind and I wasn’t sure you would allow a native to guide your ship.”

“Mister Guthry commands in my absence,” Carter told him. “Haku will just be the Wayfarer, like on any normal ship.”

“Good point,” Raff admitted. “I’m glad I didn’t drink much of the local beer tonight.”

“I’m sorry I had as much as I did,” Carter admitted.

“You don’t have to come with us,” Raff told him.

“The hell you say!” Carter told him. “I’m not drunk, just over-fed.”

“Suit yourself, James,” Raff told him, turning study the trail the kidnappers had left. “Hmm, we’re definitely dealing with at least one Wayfarer,” he said a few minutes later after they had started folling the trail.

“How can you tell?” Carter asked. “I can’t even see the trail you’re following.”

“Do you see the forged path?” Raff asked.

“Yes,” Carter nodded, “The Pai’ainans build theirs differently from the ones I knew in the Green Lands. We put ours down the middle of a pathway, but they put a pair of thin lines of stability along the edges.”

“This is unique in my experience,” Raff admitted.

“Not so much,” Carter told him. “It seems to be the style all over the Bright Ocean.”

“The people of Moana Pai’aina had to get here somehow,” Raff remarked. “I imagine they went from island to island and as they went their kahuna Wayfarers brought the techniques they learned with them.”

“Good Lord, man!” Carter swore. “You’ve seen their canoes. Can you really imagine paddling those things all across this ocean?”

“Do you think they swam?” Raff countered. “Those canoes are large, the outriggers make them fairly stable on the water and maybe they had some simple sails as well on the ones that made the crossings.”

“And what would they have done for food and water?” Carter asked.

“They could have fished,” Kaz put in, “and their Wayfarers might have desalinated the water.”

“That last is a pretty advanced technique that takes a lot of fine control,” Chanya told him. “I’m not saying the local Wayfarers couldn’t have done it, but I’ve been keeping my eyes open and there are a lot of easier techniques they do not know.”

“They could carry fresh water and there would be rain water as well,” Kaz told her.

“Do you have any idea how much water they would have had to carry?” Carter asked them.

“Not so much that they couldn’t make the voyage,” Kaz replied. “It’s like Raff was saying. They got here and they didn’t just sprout out of the ground. Even their own legends say they came from other islands.”

“But to get here in a canoe when you don’t even know where you’re going?” Carter countered. “What are the odds?”

“I don’t know,” Kaz shrugged, “but they are here, so at least some made it.”

“All right,” Carter gave in, “but how are you so certain a Wayfarer was involved?”

“Because the trail we’re following isn’t there,” Raff replied.

“That makes no sense,” Carter told him.

“Any human leaves a faint trail of stability wherever he goes,” Raff told him. “It’s sort of like a path, but nowhere as deep and with a lot less energy behind it. A well-used path only needs to be forged once and rarely need maintenance, because our natural stability trails reinforce it as we travel along. Well, in this case there is no trail because someone intentionally eradicated it, but whoever did it was obviously rushed or maybe he’s just clumsy because what we do have is blank trail without even the normal background Wild energy sloshing about.

“It’s a good thing the local Wayfarers build paths the way they do,” Raff went on, “Because if they did it our way, this clumsy work might have obliterated the path as well. That’s if we were lucky, of course. If we were not lucky we’d get caught up in the energy backlash and that could be fatal.”

“Do you think they were trying to do something like that?” Kaz asked.

“That’s a possibility,” Raff considered, “but I doubt it. I don’t really know how good d’Alere is, though we know he’s a master, but Whitters knows better. He would see the way the path was created and know this trail obliteration would leave the path intact. However, he may be in such a hurry that he can’t take the time to do the job right.”

“So we should hurry too,” Carter told him.

“This is hurrying,” Raff told him. “Those men are carrying a woman who is either unconscious and therefore dead weight or else is awake and struggling. Either way we have an advantage. Let’s keep moving.”

Six

“There!” Emblem pointed ahead. They had been following the trail, such as it was, for nearly eight hours. After the first hour, the attempt to eradicate the aural trail had become increasingly spotty until Raff was certain they were after two different Wayfarers and a struggling Pai’ainan princess although at times she may have been unconscious.

Carter looked toward where she had pointed and groaned. “We can’t go in there,” he told them. “It’s kapu. See these markers on the side of the path? They are a warning that we are approaching a heiaus. It’s a sacred place. None but the chiefs and priests may enter.”

“If we don’t follow the trail, we’re likely to lose it” Raff pointed out.

“Look, that was one of the first things Ponui warned me about on any of these islands,” Carter told him. “It’s death to profane a holy place.”

“I’m not planning a human sacrifice in there,” Raff pointed out.

“That wouldn’t profane some of these places. These islanders sacrifice people several times a year. They are usually either criminals or war captives, but even still, they do sacrifice people to their gods, some of them anyway.”

“How large are these sacred sites?” Raff asked.

“They vary,” Carter explained. “It depends on what they are used for or why they are scared.”

“Maybe we can go around the actual site,” Raff decided. Just then they heard a woman crying just up ahead. Emblem and Chanya rushed forward in spite of Carter’s cautions. They enetered a clearing surrounded by feather-adorned huts in the middle of which a Pai’ainan woman lay curled up and weeping.

Carter looked around as Emblem and Chanya helped the woman up. The huts were simple pavilions without walls, but there were hundreds of feathers hanging down from the edges of the roofs and then he noticed how similar they were to those the woman was wearing. Feathers in these islands were a badge of the royalty; only a chief and his family could wear them. “This is not good,” he worried out loud. “Where are we?” he almost demanded of the princess.

“Captain Carter!” Emblem admonished him. “This woman has been beaten and worse I think. The least you can do is to not abuse her verbally as well.”

“I apologize,” Carter told her immediately, “but this place…”

“It is the place of kings,” King Kaha’i’s sister replied. “This is where my brother and our father before him were made High Chiefs.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Carter shook his head. “Foreigners are not allowed here.”

“Nor women,” the princess replied.

“They’ll kill us all now,” Carter shook his head.

“They should not,” the princess told him. “I was forced here and this place was already spoiled. Your presence cannot profane it still more.”

“Who brought you here?” Raff asked her gently.

“Two men with light skins like yours,” the princess responded, “and wearing too much clothing, like you.”

“Em, I need you to help the princess home,” Raff decided. “Kaz, Chanya, you should go with her. I’m going to continue on.”

“Not by yourself, you aren’t,” Kaz told him rebelliously.

“I’ll be with him,” Carter told Kaz.

“Against possibly two master Wayfarers?” Kaz countered. “You need me too.”

“Chanya and I can get the princess back home safely enough,” Em assured him.

“I am sure my brother will not kill you when he learns of how you saved me,” the princess told her.

“Delightful,” Emblem muttered in Cracian, and then switched back to her small Pai’ainan vocabulary. “Come on, let’s get you home. We only have half a day left.”

“Half a day?” the pricess asked.

“We’ll explain on the way,” Chanya assured her. “Good luck…” she started to add to the men, but they had already left the heiaus, “I guess they are in a hurry.”

Raff, Kaz and Carter raced down the pathway, away from the Place of Kings, but fifteen minutes later they discovered the men they were chasing had split up at a fork in the pathway. “You go left and I go right?” Kaz suggested.

“I don’t like splitting up the team even more than we have already,” Raff told him tensely.

“I don’t like the possibility of having one of those guys double back and ambush us from behind,” Kaz shot back.

Raff thought about that and finally conceded. “Be careful, Kaz. “You know these guys play nasty.”

“And Castenada was a stroll in the park?” Kaz shot back. “You want answers out of these guys and we’re going to get them.”

“Don’t risk your own life to get them,” Raff told his son.

“You too,” Kaz replied. “Try to remember we haven’t slept all night.”

“I doubt they have either,” Carter put in.

“Let’s go,” Raff told them both and led Carter up the left fork of the path while Kaz headed downhill on the right.

“Can you tell who we’re following?” Carter asked a few minutes later.

“I didn’t know who we were following in the first place,” Raff replied. “I’m fairly certain we’re following Wayfarers, but for all I know they may not be Guild members. I don’t know who is in the crew of Rachel. I also don’t know if d’Alere was acting as her Wayfarer or was just a passenger.”

“Would a legitimate Guildsman attempt to kidnap the princess?” Carter asked.

“Until I caught on to them,” Raff replied, “Whitters and d’Alere were both still putatively legitimate. Even now I have only declared d’Alere a rogue officially and he’s been keeping ahead of that notice. As for Whitters, I didn’t know he was involved before I got here, and I do not have a Guildhall here from which to deseminate his dismissal.”

“That’s it?” Carter asked. “Just a dismissal? The man is a mutineer from my point of view. Flogging is the least I would do to him.”

“Dismissal is the official action in a case like this,” Raff replied stiffly. “If he surrenders peacefully, that is all I can do. Of course, he has committed crimes here in Moana Pai’aina and I’ll do nothing to shield him from the consequences.”

“And when he does not surrender?” Carter asked.

“He’ll wish all I could do was flog him.”

It was three hours later they heard the drums. “I don’t like the sound of that,” Raff commented.

“The natives aren’t dancing to that beat,” Carter replied as still more drums from various directions began to be heard.

“James Carter!” a voice to their right shouted. “Raff Cawlens!” The voice spoke with a Pai’ainan accent.

“Here!” Raff replied, drawing a sheath of Wild energy around them as a shield.

“I am Manuka,” the man responded. “High Chief Kaha’i sent me.” The man who stepped forward was tall and powerfully built with long, curly black hair and wore a kilt-like skirt of colorful kapa cloth with pattersn of gold, brown and red printed on it.

“You are kahuna?” Raff asked, suspecting the answer.

“I am high-kahuna,” Manuka replied. “Like you.”

“The princess…’ Raff started.

“Princess Naniahiahi is home and safe,” Manuka told him, “but the people are upset over the way the heiaus of the chiefs was defiled. The chief wants me to assure your safety. That is an interesting way to use mana,” Manuka indicated the sheaf of Wild energy Raff still around himself and Carter.

“Sorry,” Raff apologized. “It’s a mostly defensive move, but it keeps the energy near at hand if you need it.”

“You are strong in mana, Raff Cawlens,” Manuka observed.

“Maybe, but the ones we are after are strong too,” Raff replied.

They continued following the aural trail but after another hundred yards it disappeared again. “Whoever it is started thinking again,” Raff commented just as a force thrust hit the shield he still had not dropped. “Where?” he asked, mostly to himself.

“Ahead to the left,” Manuka replied. He waved his hands in a mystical seeming way and the underbrush suddenly bent over to the ground, exposing the figure of a man in a Grundish style waistcoat and trousers with a white-trimmed tricorn hat.”

“Whitters,” Carter growled as the rogue Wayfarer tried another force thrust.

Raff borrowed the trick he had seen Francesca use and “caught” the Wild energy of the thrust and added it it that from his shield and shot it back at Josiah Whitters as a large wave of fire.

Whitters, in turn, threw himself to the ground and let Raff’s attack pass over head, but that was not Raff’s only offensive maneuver and he reached down into the earth to open up a fissure directly under Whitters. Had there been a pre-existing crack in the bedroack at that location it probably would have been the end of the fight, but the process of ripping open the sudden hole was slow enough to give Whitters a chance to roll aside and get back to his feet.

As he did, however, Carter drew a knife from his belt and threw it hard. A moment later, the blade was sticking deep into Whitter’s shoulder. Whitters screamed in pain, but he was not merely a master Wayfarer by rank, he had earned that rank long ago via his abilities. Even through the pain, he reacted with a Wild energy thrust that cut off the tops of dozens of trees which fell on and around Raff, Carter and Manuka. It was Manuka who managed to block the falling limbs and trees as they came crashing down. No one suffered more than a few bruises by all the crashing vegetation, but in the confusion, Whitters managed to get away again.

Carter got to his feet first and helped Raff and Manuka to their feet. “I want that knife back,” Carter told them. “It was a gift from Admiral Markham.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for it,” Raff promised, “If we can’t find it, I’ll buy you a new one. Come on!”

They chased after Whitters and Manuka commented, “I shall be honored to give you a knife as well, James Carter. The man we follow is losing much blood thanks to you. He is getting weaker.”

“How can you tell?” Carter asked between trying to catch his breath.

“His trail is starting to fade,” Manuka replied. He suddenly ducked down and without missing a step picked up Carter’s knife and handed it to him. Carter grunted his thanks and they ran on.

The earth began to shake and more trees threatened to come toppling over, but Raff was ready for that sort of move and countered it easily. When a Wayfarer uses the Wild there is an instant of complete vulnerability and it was in that instant that Whitters attempted anotner force thrust, but Manuka blocked him that time and shot a ball of fire back at Whitters who, for his part, parried the attack. However, Manuka had not expected to get Whitters directly that way so he was satisfied when his fire set the vegetation around Whitters ablaze. While it was nothing any master Wayfarer could not extinguish easily, it did block the rogue’s obvious escape path.

“Stay here,” Raff told them both. He concentrated for a moment and suddenly there was an image of him standing next to himself.

“Nice trick,” Carter smirked.

“That’s nothing,” Raff replied and instantly disappeared. “Cover me.” A moment later they could see a slight outline as Raff moved away through the tropical forest and soon lost sight of him.

Raff did his best to walk silently, but it was a trick he had never really mastered and when his foot came down on a small branch, it cracked. A shockwave of Wild energy and sound came at Raff, knocking him down on his back, despite an attempt to shield himself against it. By the time he got back up, Whitters was nowhere in sight.

Once more, all three men chased the rogue master Wayfarer as he ran down a curving path and then up a smaller path bordered with poles that had been decorated with colorful feathers. Suddenly they were in a clearing the edge of which had been marked off with black basalt posts. In the center was a carved basalt altar with channels along the sides, leaving no doubt it was meant for sacrifices. Two kahuna priests had been standing by the altar, but when Whitters threw a fireball at them, they ran screaming from the heiaus.

“Whitters!” Raff shouted at him. “Give it up. We have you now.”

“Not a chance, Cawlens.” Whitter growled. He was not looking good, blood from his wound was soaking through his clothing and Raff was fairly certain the hoarseness in his voice was not normal. “Even you cannot defend yourself against this!”

Whitters sent a blast of light, sound and Wild energy at Raff, but this time Raff defended himself, Carter and Manuka with a Kenlientan energy mirror. The blast hit the surface of his mirror and was instantly reflected back at the man who had thrown it at them. Whitters disappeared inside an egg-shaped construct of blazingly white Wild energy.

It was all over in a moment. The egg faded and the metal bits of his clothing, buttons and buckles along with a long knife and a handful of coins clattered to the ground where Master Josiah Whitters had been standing.

Seven

“I really was hoping to take him alive,” Raff commented, shaking his head.

“I have seen some incredible things,” Carter told him, “but that…”

“That was a horrible act of sacrilege,” Manuka told them. “This is one of our holiest places. It will take a year or more to resanctify it with the blood of war captives and criminals.”

“You don’t have enough criminals and captives, do you?” Raff saw the problem. “This might be a good time to re-evaluate your religious practices.”

“I might if it were given to me to be able talk to the gods,” Manuka replied, “but that cannot be done until this place is renewed. There will be war and much death on all sides. Moana Pai’aina may burn for this. You must go now.”

“Where is the Rachel anchored?” Carter asked.

“This way,” Manuka told him and led the way. A few minutes later they heard the drums again. “That is a war rhythm,” he informed Raff and Carter.

“For the profanation of the heiaus?” Raff asked.

“Perhaps,” Manuka grunted.

A few minutes later they came to the top of a cliff from which they had a clear view of the sea to the northwest and from there they could see the Rachel under full sail and near the horizon. There was another ship at anchor, however with several boats coming ashore. “Nice to see the Asperance made it here,” Carter commented.

“Do you think we can catch Rachel?” Raff asked.

“I doubt it,” Carter replied. “She’s a fast little ship. Faster than mine, though if she were in range I could sink her with a single volley.”

The drums stopped suddenly and Manuka informed them, “We had better get you to your ship.”

“Why?” Raff asked.

“I told you that was a war rhythm the drums were playing,” Manuka replied as though that said it all but Raff was still in the dark.

“When the drums stopped the war began, Raff,” Carter told him, “and I think we’re the enemy.”

“You are not,” Manuka assured him, “but the people may not be able to tell you from those who are. They will see your light skin only.”

“And we all look alike to you, right?” Raff asked. “Yeah, I get it. What about my wife?”

“She is safe with High Chief Kaha’i,” Manuka informed him. He will allow no harm to one who rescued his sister. She is the mother of the next chief.”

“Matrilineal descent?” Raff asked.

“I do not understand,” Manuka admitted, continuing to lead the way toward the beach.

“I mean that the heirs of a man are the children of his sister,” Raff explained. “Is that correct?”

“That is our way, yes,” Manuka agreed. “It is different in the Green Lands?”

“A man’s sons are his heirs among us,” Raff explained.

“How do you know the children of his wife are his?” Manuka asked, reminding Raff that in many non-civilized societies there was no clear connection between sexual activity and children.

“It is our belief,” Raff replied rather than going into a discussion of the birds and the bees with a man who, while intelligent, might not accept his explanation. Even if he could be convinced, this was not the time to stop and converse on any subject save getting them all to safety.

A few minutes later they ran directly into a party of a dozen men armed with spears. They screamed a challenge and charged directly at Raff and Carter. Raff drew a wisp of Wild energy and used it to knock them all out. “Did you kill them, Raff Cawlens?” Maunka asked, sounding worried.

“No, just knocked them out,” Raff replied. “They’ll wake up in an hour or so, stiff and bruised and likely with bad headaches, but they’ll live.”

“Good,” Manuka replied. “We do not want blood debts against your people on top of everything else.”

“Going to be hard to avoid if they keep attacking,” Carter replied, indicating the cutlass he had draw from its sheath on his belt.

“Let’s keep going,” Raff suggested.

They arrived on the beach where Carter’s men from three of the ship’s boats were consulting with Kaz who had been waiting for them there. “Back to the ship, men!” Carter called from the tree line as he and Raff started dashing toward the boats. They heard a scream of war cries behind them and a moment later Carter fell to the sand with a spear sticking out of his back.

Raff turned and knocked out as many of their attackers as he could, but there were too many and they were coming from too many directions. Carter’s men raised muskets to their shoulders and started firing, driving the Pai’ainans back long enough to recover Carter and help Raff on board one of the boats.

“How is he?” Raff asked across the water to the boat where Carter was. The bosun looked back and just shook his head. “Damn!” Raff swore softly.

The Way to Hillena

One

“D’Alere got away again,” Kaz told Raff once they were all aboard HMS Asperance.

“I thought as much,” Raff replied. “We got Whitters though, but we lost a good man in Captain Carter.”

“Yes, I am sorry about that,” Kaz told him. “I know you and he were instant friends.”

“We had a lot in common,” Raff replied. “Where are Em and Chanya?”

“Back at the chief’s village, I think,” Kaz replied. “I spoke with Carter’s second in command, Captain MacKay. With both Carter and Whitters dead he knows he needs a Wayfarer if he ever wants to get home again. He’s agreed to go back to get Em and Chanya.”

“The real question is where do we go after that?” Captain MacKay added as he approached the two Wayfarers.

“That depends,” Raff replied. “Are you still committed to finding the Northwest Passage?”

“Do you know for certain it exists?” MacKay asked.

“No,” Raff shook his head, “and to my knowledge neither does anyone else otherwise you probably would have found it already.”

“That was my thinking as well, sir,” MacKay responded, “but while Captain Carter was in command our orders from the Admiralty still stood. I believe the loss of both the captain and Mister Whitters can be called extenuating circumstances.”

“And as the senior Wayfarer on board and as Guildmaster, I have the power to countermand those orders, Captain,” Raff replied. “I will tell the Admirals that on your behalf, sir.”

“Thank you sir,” MacKay nodded, looking relieved. “I think the men just want to go home in any case, so to where shall we set course?”

“I’m still chasing the Rachel to Hillena,” Raff replied. “Now, more than ever, I need to get my hands on Julian d’Alere.”

“Who, sir?” MacKay asked.

“A rogue Wayfarer on board Rachel,” Kaz explained, “but first please bring us back to the other side of the island.” Raff nodded his agreement.

“Aye aye, sir,” Mackay replied. “Oh and what about Captain Carter?”

“I believe burial at sea is customary,” Raff replied after some thought. “We can have the ceremony once we’re well away from Moana Pai’aina.”

“Aye aye,” MacKay repeated and then started giving orders to the crew.

Once they were underway once more, MacKay came back to Raff. “Sir, our ship’s log does not have a course in it directly between Moana Pai’aina and Hillena. I’m afraid we shall have to go by way of either Sarlron or Wasee. Wasee is closer, of course, but our log does not include a direct course from there either.”

“We don’t need to follow a logged course,” Raff told him. “Just sail to the proper latitude and then strike directly west.”

“We could do that, of course sir,” MacKay replied respectfully, but Raff could see the prospect worried him.

“Captain MacKay,” Raff told him. “I am a master Wayfarer, the Guildmaster in fact. Are you saying I can’t navigate you safely through the wild?”

“Well, of course not, sir,” Mackay told him, still displaying concern, “but the men; they’ve never sailed without the log.”

“They’ll be sailing by the log, Captain,” Raff told him. “It’s just that I’ll be writing it as we go. This is not some willy nilly course I’ll be setting and at sea we do not really need landmarks along the way. What is really the problem?”

“Sir, have you ever sailed the Bright Ocean before?” MacKay asked.

“No,” Raff admitted, “but I’ve sailed all the other seas. Ocean is ocean.”

“Yes, sir,” MacKay nodded. “It’s not the ocean I am worried about. It’s the islands.”

“Do you know what Moana Pai’aina means, Captain?” Raff asked. “It means ‘The land that rises up out of the sea.’ In a sense all islands are lands that rise up out of the sea.”

“I am more concerned about the people who live on those islands, sir,” MacKay told him. “These Pai’ainans are friendly compared to some out here in this ocean and a lot of that depends on when you show up and which direction you approach from. We did not come here directly from Sarlron either. We stopped several times because that was the route we knew. We only set a new course when it became necessary. Also, many of my men have suffered scurvy before. We need fresh food from the islands along the way and fresh water too.”

“I can provide the fresh water,” Raff assured him. “As for fresh food, don’t you fish?”

“But the scurvy,” MacKay protested.

“You have problems with scurvy because the men insist on surviving on dried meat,” Raff told him. “Fish from the sea will help there and we can stop on islands if we need to and if the natives are friendly.”

“And if they attack?” MacKay pressed.

“You’ll have four master wayfarers on board,” Raff pointed out, effectively closing the argument, but MacKay had another worry.

“And after we reach Hillena, sir?” the acting captain asked. “Will you guide us the rest of the way back to the Green Lands?”

“There’s a Guildhall in Magagandang,” Raff informed him, adding, “I hope I pronounced that correctly. If we are not available from that point onward, you can request another Wayfarer there.”

King Kaha’i did not see the Wayfarers off, nor did he send any gifts in farewell. “I’d say he is much too busy calming his people down to be worried about courtesies to us,” Emblem told him.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Raff told her.

“Chanya and I were never in any danger,” she assured him.

“Yes you were,” Raff disagreed. “You just didn’t know it.”

“Perhaps, but we were never threatened and the Pai’ainans made certain we were kept out of harm’s way,” Em replied calmly.

They sailed southwestward from Lani’aina and the next morning, with no land in sight, Raff conducted the funeral for Captain James Carter. It was not the first time he had performed religious rites for a traveler on the Way and not even the first time he had to conduct a funeral, but he had rarely had to do so for one he considered a good friend.

“I met Captain James Horatio Carter just a few days ago,” Raff began his eulogy after leading the crew through a collection of psalms, hymns and other prayers they had all known since childhood, “and yet it felt like he had been a friend all my life. Here was a man who could hobnob with the cream of society and yet never forgot his common roots. He apprenticed as a merchant seaman as a youth, but over time he advanced until he had command of his own ship. Soon after, however he joined the Navy of the Green Lands in order to serve during the Meldan War during which he served with honor but also, due to his native abilities as a Wayfarer, showed a genius for cartography and delivered to the Admiraly charts of hitherto unknown accuracy of the coast of Meldan.

“His charts earned him a series of assignments to explore and map the Bright Ocean and again he serve not only His and Her Majesty’s Navy well, but amassed a store of knowledge about this ocean of incalculable worth. On his first voyage he also accepted a commission from the Royal Astronomical Society to observe and record an eclipse of the Sun.

“Who else, then could have been chosen to lead this expedition to find the Northwest passage. He may not have found the postulated shortcut back to the Green Lands, but I have seen his maps of Maska and they are, once more, a work of cartographical genius showing a finely detailed coastline.

“James Carter,” Raff continued, “lived and died a man of action. He had an easy smile and a respect for those around him and it was my honor to know him for however brief a moment.”

He paused and then called on others to testify on Carter’s behalf. Finally, he led them through another hymn and then recited the “Blessing over the Dead” before consigning Carter to the waters of the ocean he knew better than any other man alive.

Two

“Chanya and I went through Whitters’ cabin,” Kaz told Raff after the funeral. He and Chanya had decided it was as good a time as any to report on their search. “We may have missed a lot on the first look, but we did find his personal journal.”

“Assuming his entries don’t read, ‘Dear Diary, Today I saw a sea-unicorn…’ it may be useful, though it is hard to believe he would have been keeping notes anyone could read.”

“He used a sort of code,” Kaz reported, “although it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out some of it. For example, he referred to d’Alere as d’Ace and we’ve all heard that name before.”

“Sure,” Raff responded, “d’Ace was the name d’Alere used in association with Castenada’s attempt to disrupt Varana. Not exactly a code. What did he say about d’Alere?”

“Well, you can read it for yourself,” Kaz replied, “and I’m sure you will, but we were right in that they had not expected to meet on Haliki.”

“Haliki?” Raff asked. “Sounds familiar, but…”

“That’s the name of the first Pai’ainan island we landed on,” Kaz informed him. “It means ‘Thunder.’ In fact, that’s the name by which Whitters referred to the island rather than using the native word. However, while it was a chance meeting, they did know each other and Whitters gave d’Alere a job to do in the east.”

“But Rachel is headed westward,” Raff pointed out.

“To the Eastern Continent,” Kaz translated, “where after a number of stops he is to rendezvous with someone refered to as the ‘Brave Stag,’ although usually he shortens that to ‘Brave.’”

“And who is this Brave one?” Raff asked.

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” Kaz admitted. He looked at Chanya but she merely shrugged. “While all his locations and contacts are disguised with code words, we can figure out where he was by comparing them to the the log book of Asperance. Then, once we know where he was we should have an idea of which Wayfarers he met with.”

“If he met with Wayfarers,” Raff replied.

“Raff, I think we made a big mistake when we scattered the Wayfarers you felt were still loyal to Grandmaster Harton all across the world,” Kaz told him. “It placed them far enough away that we couldn’t keep track of everything they did.”

“It also kept them from being able to meet on a regular basis,” Raff replied, “Keeping them all in Taundon or even in small clumps here and there would have given them license to plot and scheme to their hearts’ content.”

“From what I can see in that journal we did not slow them down by much,” Kaz replied. “You do recall our services include getting messages as well as people from one place to another, right?”

“I couldn’t very well put them in gaol,” Raff replied. “They had not actually committed any crimes.”

“Sure they did,” Kaz laughed. “They broke nearly all the Guild rules between them. Some of those infractions broke the Queen’s laws as well. We just did not want to spend the next three decades with all the trials and appeals that would have covered them all. It was easier to just pack them off or let them resign and that was an oversight too. From what I can tell from the journal, the retired masters have been acting as couriers for the ones who stayed in the Guild. Oh, I did figure out who one of Whitters’ contacts were. You remember Michael Roarke?”

“He was a student of mine about the time you were born,” Raff replied. “I believe my evaluation of him was somewhat lacking. I pointed out that by talent he could never advance beyond journeyman, but it turned out he had a talent for politics and weaseled his way up to the Grand Council. I thought he grabbed the parliamentary seat of a rotten borough in the Green Lands.”

“Yes, he did,” Kaz nodded, “but shortly before I was assigned to the fishing talks in Varana, he reactivated his Guild membership and wangled an assignment to a Guildhall in one of the new penal colonies on the eastern coast there. Whitters refers to him as the ‘Ruler of Sarlron’.”

“Excuse me?” Raff shot back. “I must be getting too old to hear correctly. In what way is that pissant a ruler?”

“It’s in his name,” Kaz told him. “The name Roarke means ‘famous ruler.’ I suspect Whitters was similarly unimaginative in all the names he used.”

“What did he call himself?” Raff asked. “Is that in the journal too?”

“No, but we found some letters to him too,” Kaz replied. “Apparently he was called ‘White.’ It makes a certain amount of sense since Whitters is an occupationally based name meaning ‘one who makes white leather.’ It’s a variant of Whittier, or at least I think that’s what he and his colleagues thought. It can also mean ‘one who babbles on incessantly.’”

“That sounds more like him,” Raff laughed.

“I thought you didn’t really know him,” Kaz commented.

“I didn’t,” Raff admitted, “He was elevated to the Grand Council after I was removed. He was my so-called replacement, I think, but I meant that from the fact that he seems to have written everything down.”

“It’s in code,” Kaz reminded him. “We may not figure it all out until it’s too late and we do not know that all code names are translations of their surnames. Yours isn’t. You are referred to as ‘The Rabble,’ when you are referred to at all.”

“I think I preferred Wolf Council,” Raff laughed.

“What?” Chanya asked.

“Oh, just thinking of a conversation I had back in Lorendo,” Raff replied. “I was trading names and their meanings with a native there. Where did you learn about names and their meanings, Kaz? Was that something they taught you in preparatory school?”

“Ha!” Kaz laughed sourly. “I don’t think they taught me anything, at least nothing worthwhile, but some of the kids there made the mistake of making fun of my name, so I looked up what theirs meant. It turned out their names weren’t quite as exaultant as they thought. After that, I was just curious and spent hours just looking up names and their meanings. Cawlens, by the way, just means you had an ancestor named Collin or some variant on that name. It’s possible he might have been noble.”

“Not very likely,” Raff laughed. “I come from a long line of tradesmen.”

“Perhaps, but Wayfarer, Traveller and Tripper are all common surnames of families founded by Wayfarers, whether they are currently in the Guild these days or not,” Kaz replied. “The Collin in your family line might have been a Wayfarer or some other tradesman, but it’s more likely he was clan chieftain or something like that.”

“What he was is not as important as what I am now though,” Raff remarked. “Well, let’s make this journal and anything else you found in his cabin a study for the rest of this trip. Maybe we can figure out what Whitters and d’Alere are up to.”

“I especially want to know who the Brave is,” Kaz added. “It sounds like he’s the one in charge.”

“You cannot equate that with a surname?” Raff asked.

“No one knows everything, Raff,” Kaz replied, “and this was just a casual hobby. I’m surprised I remembered even this much of it.”

“You don’t forget much of what you read,” Raff observed. “I’ve noticed that in you.”

“It did help me learn as much as I did after growing up in the jungle,” Kaz admitted, “but unused information fades over time. You’re right about one thing, though, I think all four of us need to go over Whitter’s notes. Between us, we may be able to find out what we need to. And the sooner we can dump his other belongings, the sooner Chanya and I will have some room to breathe in there. That is our cabin now, you know.”

“Did you want to trade?” Raff offered. “The one Em and I are in is normally for the the first mate and is a bit larger. And I can go through Whitters’ belongings in my spare time.”

“No need,” Kaz told him, “Just go over them enough to know what we can dump and what we should hold on to. Does he have family, by the way?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Raff replied.

“He had a fair amount of money and jewelry with him,” Kaz replied. “I don’t know how much if any was honestly come by, but assuming it was truly his, I suppose it ought to go to his heirs, if any.”

“I agree,” Raff nodded. “We’ll pack up all his belongings and send them back to Taundon. If he has family, they are welcome to them. Tell you what, though. Let me wake up Em and we’ll all go over that cabin right now.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon and evening searching the cabin but all they managed to do was to packup Whitters’ personal effects until Raff thought to check under the drawer of the small desk that had been built into the cabin. “I almost didn’t think to check here,” he admitted as he pulled the drawer out, “it’s just too cliché. I swear every writer of adventure stories uses it.” When the drawer was out, he raised it up and looked underneath. There was nothing unusual there. “And I guess my first instinct was right.”

“Let’s check the drawers on the dresser,” Em suggested although that search turned up dry as well.

“One last place to check, I think,” Chanya added. “The desk is built into the cabin, but the dresser is just inside a niche built up against the bulkhead.” She pulled the now-empty dresser out with ease to find a pair of long pistols attached to the back together with a leather pouch that contained wadding, lead balls to use as projectiles and a small powder horn. The pistols had footlong steel barrels set into highly a highly polished one-piece stock that ran from nearly the muzzle all the way back to the curved grip which ended with a brass cap that match a few simple onamentations.

“Nice guns,” Raff remarked, inspecting one. “Flintlocks, I see, and pretty much the latest design. I wonder where he picked them up. They look Varanan in design.”

“Varanan guns are popular in some circles,” Kaz pointed out, “and if he bought them in Haristol before Asperance left there, they were probably right off the ship that brought them in. Not sure why he felt the need for a pair of guns though. They aren’t fancy enough for most men who would duel with them and as a Wayfarer he has more reliable weapons.”

“Anyone can use a surprise on their side,” Chanya pointed out, “and he might have had some mischief in mind that he did not want traced back to a Wayfarer.”

“I think we’ll hold on to these for a bit,” Raff decided. “I can see they are loaded, so I’ll start by disarming them and making sure they are cleaned and oiled.”

“Don’t fire them to empty the barrels,” Kaz warned.

“Why not?” Raff asked.

“Just for safety’s sake,” Kaz told him. “They might be rigged to explode. I don’t trust Whitters and as I said, he didn’t need a pistol to be deadly or to defend himself in a hurry. Even if he had a good reason to have these, he wasn’t worried about having them in a hurry.”

“It would be a nasty surprise should anyone try to rob his cabin,” Raff admitted. “All right. I’ll take your advice. It’s getting late now, though. Let’s all get something to eat from the galley and we can work some more on this tomorrow.”

Three

A great storm blew up a week later and tossed HMS Asperance about as though it were a child’s toy in a bath. Chanya had broken her arm in Palendo, had healed up from that wound, but continued to be nervous about injuring herself like that. After nearly falling out of the small bunk she was sharing with Kaz, she not only insisted on sleeping on the inside, up against the bulkhead, but had Kaz fashion a strap that would hold her on the bed. Kaz had laughed at her, but did as she asked. Ironically, in the process, the ship rolled hard to starboard throwing him across the cabin and badly bruising his shoulder.

Throughout the storm, Raff tried to to decipher Whitters’ journal but had to admit that even had they been becalmed he would have trouble comparing the code names with known Wayfarers. “I’ve been out of the field too long,” he told Emblem. “I just don’t know who is in the local halls anymore.”

“I do not recall that you ever knew the halls of the Eastern Continent or of the western Bright Ocean all that well,” Em replied.

“There is that,” Raff admitted. The only times I have travelled on the Eastern Continent were that trip on behalf of Kharasia and before that during the Great Plague, and then I was mostly among the Ken, only stopping in Guildhalls long enough to pick up more serum. In the East, that meant I was mostly working out of Gaharenar and eastern Kharasia and even then I was relaying between Kenlientan cities where you and the others were dropping off supplies.

“However,” Raff went on, “I did know nearly everyone on the Northern Continent and all the hall masters on the Southern and Western Continents as well as most on the Lower.”

“We were both better traveled than most Wayfarers,” Em agreed, “but we had to sacrifice that in order to restructure the Guild.”

“I know that,” Raff replied, “but it means I have lost track of what’s going on outside of Central Guildhall. Kaz was right, we shouldn’t have scattered those old Council masters quite so far as we did.”

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, dear?” Em asked archly. The ship rocked hard just then with her bow high, sending the journal and several pages of notes flying out of Raff’s hands. “Ooops!” Em exclaimed as she caught herself on the side of their bunk. Raff, however, used a bit of Wild energy to steady his chair and somehow managed to stay in his seat.

“Enough of that,” he decided, collecting the journal and loose papers back together. “Let’s put this away for now. I’ll try cleaning one of those pistols.”

“I thought you did that already,” Em replied.

“No,” Raff shook his head. “I thought the journal was a more immediate concern. It was, but with the ship rocking back and forth like this, disassembling a firearm is going to be… well, I need to make sure I don’t lose any of the parts.”

“Here,” Em told him. There was an oil lamp that hung over the table Raff was trying to work on. As the ship rocked back and forth, the lamp appeared to swing, but in reality it was staying fairly steady while the entire ship moved around it. She had found a small brass tray in the cabin closet soon after moving in but had not realized its significance until now. The tray had four light and evenly spaced chains attached to its rim and each chain ended with a brass hook. Now Em retrieved the tray and hooked it to the base of the swinging lamp. “That should give you a place to put all the small parts,” she remarked.

“If it doesn’t hit me in the head,” Raff replied with a half-hearted chuckle.

“Learn to duck, dear,” Em advised.

“Right.” Raff put the journal and the notes back in the desk drawer and pulled out one of the pistols. Once more, he admired the workmanship of the gun. It was a simple-appearing piece compare to the ornately decorated guns he had seen and handled on the Northern Continent. However, all the carving and fancy brasswork on the stock of a gun has nothing to do with its effectiveness as a weapon and Raff found the feel of this gun in his hand and the balance of the piece suited his aesthetic sensibilities. Plain it might seem at first, but the polish on the wood stock was not easily achived. He sighted down the barrel for a moment and then decided that doing so with a loaded weapon was perhaps not the safest thing to do on the ship even if there was no powder in the flash pan.

Most men would have to dismantle the piece to unload it at this point, but Raff had the advantage of being a Wayfarer and merely concentrated for a moment and eased the load out through the muzzle and on to the table in front of him. Two wadded balls fell out in front of him and he gasped. “I owe Kaz an apology,” Raff remarked to Em, “or at least a thank you. This one was double loaded. It could have exploded in my face.”

“Not very likely, dear,” Em disagreed. “Soldiers frequently double or triple load their muskets. In the heat of battle one might not notice a misfire, after all and could well just load up again. The guns do not explode very often in such cases.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

“When I was a girl,” Em explained, “I used to listen to my father and his guardsmen talking about such things. Some even loaded multiple balls before a battle in the hope of scoring extra damage at the outset. The stories about double-loaded pistols exploding are probably just that; stories. They might be based on what happened when a canon is spiked. Canons have a much more powerful load for their construction.”

“So you think Whitters double loaded for extra damage?” Raff asked.

“Possibly,” Em replied, “but that seriously reduces the accuracy of the shot especially with this sort of gun. He might also have believed the exploding gun stories and intentionally left these as Kaz suggested.”

“Interesting,” Raff admitted. “I suppose I should have known that, but aside from an occasional hunting invitation I do not have as much acquaintance with firearms as some do.”

“You have never needed to,” Em pointed out, “but you do know how to clean one, right?”

“Of course,” Raff chuckled. “That was part of the ritual both before and after hunting. You clean and load your gun before going out and then when done you clean it again before putting it away. It is both practical for gun maintenance and a social occasion for the hunters to engage in after coming back.”

“I would have thought the servants would be expected to do that,” Em remarked. “That is the way it is done among Cracian notables.”

“In the Green Lands one takes care of his own firearms regardless of station,” Raff replied. “How else can you be certain it has been done correctly?”

Raff disassembled the pistol, putting the small parts into the swinging tray. Then he carefully cleaned everything, commenting, “Whitters didn’t have the slightest notion of how to take care of his guns. There was a good chance that when he pulled the trigger the lock would have just stayed where it was.” When he was finished he reassembled and tested the mechanism. The flintlock moved and sparked perfectly so he put the gun away and started in on the second one. When he was finished he put it away next to the first.

“The ship doesn’t seem to be rocking as much now,” he observed.

“It’s still a bit rough out there,” Em told him, “but I think we’re past the worst of the storm.”

“Good,” Raff nodded. “Maybe tonight I can get some real sleep.”

In the morning, the acting captain of Asperance presented Raff with an entirely new problem. “Sir, we lost some of our rigging in the storm.” Raff looked upward as though expecting to lose a mast at any moment. “The Masts are fine, sir,” MacKay assured him, “our stays are strong, but the smaller lines, well, we aren’t used to so much sailing in the tropics and I fear we may have developed a bit of rot.”

“What do you propose, captain?” Raff asked.

“We need to trade for some of the local rope,” MacKay replied.

“Is the native rope of sufficient quality?’ Raff asked.

“If it doesn’t rot away in all this heat and damp,” MacKay replied, “it has got to be better.”

“I meant would it be strong enough for use on board ship,” Raff clarified.

“Definitely. Have you seen everything they make with their ropes and cords? If anything they know more about that than we do. Wayfarer, just because these people have no cities, do not think of them as ignorant. They may be savages, but they are not stupid.”

“Of course,” Raff nodded, “I never thought they were. I just was not aware their ropes could do the jobs you have in mind.”

“My main concern is that we have enough to trade for the lines we need to replace,” MacKay replied.

“Fine then,” Raff shrugged. “Let’s find an island with friendly natives.”

“That’s the problem,” MacKay told him. “We got swept a little south, and we have not completely explored this region yet.”

“So we don’t know the people here,” Raff nodded. “I suppose language will be a problem?”

“That’s the least of it,” MacKay laughed. “You don’t need to know the language to make a trade though it does help and they may know some of our words and if not ours then something in Cracian or Dixish. They might even have had some contact with Nillon, not that anyone on board knows any Nillonese.”

“I know a few words,” Raff informed him, “and Em knows more. Come to think about it, Kaz has been in contact with Doctor Naga. He’s living in Menino these days and visits Taundon from time to time, but he is from Nillon, so it’s probable Kaz has learned a bit too. Well, let’s just pull into the next island we find and make a deal.”

They sailed another day before sighting land and when they did, it turned out to be an atoll with several habitable islands situated around a central lagoon. “I only see two Stability domes,” Kaz reported to Captain MacKay, “but there may be other settlements that are either too small or too far away to spot. The bigger one is on the island to the north. I’d say that’s the island to approach.”

“That’s good enough for me,” the captain. “I just hope these islanders are as friendly as the ones in Moana Pai’aina.”

“I hope they’re friendlier than that,” Kaz replied. “We did not exactly get hugs and kisses on our departure, did we?”

“Not our fault,” MacKay replied, “and not their’s either, I think. I don’t miss that wight, Whitters, especially now and I owe that other Wayfarer a sword through the ribs, d’Alere is it? That’s the real reason I’m taking you all to Hillena. If I had my druthers it would be back to Sarlron, where there are Grundish colonists to deal with.”

“Looks like they’ve seen us too,” Kaz noted. “The big Stability just got suddenly smaller and a new one is coming toward us. I suspect we’ll see a flotilla of boats or canoes in a minute or so.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” MacKay decided. “The other islands we’ve stopped at waited for us to strike our sails before coming out to meet us. How else would they know we intended to stop?”

“Maybe these people are just anxious to meet us?” Kaz suggested.

“I’m ordering the crew to battle stations,” Mackay decided. “It doesn’t hurt to be ready for trouble. I suggest you tell the Guildmaster he’s needed up here.”

Kaz nodded and a few minutes later all four Wayfarers were up on the poop deck of Asperance in time to see over two dozen very long outrigger canoes heading toward them. Across the water they could hear the sounds of chanting, drums and the beat of paddles.

“That does not sound like happy, welcoming music to me,” Chanya opined.

“These people are likely to have different aesthetic values from yours,” Raff told her. “They might well consider this beautiful.”

“I doubt it,” Chanya shot back. “I may not have been to as many places as you have, Raff, but between various tribes on the Southern Continent, the nations of the Northern Continent and every place I have been since I earned my mastery I have experienced a wide variety of music. This sounds like something only an army can appreciate.”

“That’s why we’re up here,” Kaz reminded her. “Captain MacKay is worried about them. They are coming at us at a pretty good clip, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Raff agreed, “but that’s no indication of intent. Let’s wait and see.”

The long canoes came up to the ship and encircled her as though guiding her back to the nearer island. The people in the boats smiled and looked happy to see them, but it was Emblem who first spotted the problem. “They’re lying,” she told the other flatly. “They’re smiling and waving, but their auras tell a different story.”

“You’re the truth-teller,” Raff admitted. “I’ve never had the talent.”

“Em’s right,” Chanya added. “The people in those boats are all men and can you see their teeth?”

“Huh! They’re all pointed like a carnivore’s,” Raff noted.

“There was a tribe a few days south of where I lived that did that too,” Chanya replied. They were cannibals. I think this bunch is too.”

“I can’t say they want to eat us,” Emblem added, “and while they may be glad to see us, their intentions are plainly hostile.”

“Good point,” Raff admitted and turned toward MacKay. “Captain?”

“I heard what you were saying,” the captain confirmed, “and I agree. I think we’ll give these islands a miss. We don’t need new lines all that much.”

“They are likely to attack when we change course,” Kaz pointed out. “The odds are they have a Wayfarer or shaman or two among them. I know you like to let the other guy attack first, Raff, but maybe this time we should just put them all to sleep and keep sailing. They’ll wake up in an hour or two with no harm done.”

“I don’t like leaving live cannibals behind,” MacKay told him, “and those little boats are no match for our canons.”

“Are you proposing genocide, Captain,” Kaz countered. “If they are cannibals there are probably religious reasons for it. There are very few gustatory canibals in the world – those who claim to do it because they like the taste of human flesh - and most who tell you they are only do so for the intimidation value. To wipe the practice out you’ll either need a shipload of missionaries or else kill the whole tribe. Either way I’d prefer to leave that sort of work to others.”

MacKay considered that. “We’ve already lost too many men on this trip. Captain Carter was just the latest. Yes, if you can get us away from here without a loss of life, do it.”

It took longer to to make the decision than it did to accomplish it. All four Wayfarers worked together and knocked out nearly all the islanders. In one canoe, however, one man started to howl as the song and battle rhythms from the others were suddenly silenced. “I think we gave that one a headache,” Chanya noted.

“He’ll get over it,” Kaz remarked, but a moment later a flash of lightning blinded them for an instant.

“You’re getting a bit too confident, Kaz,” Emblem admonished him. “You too, Chanya. It is a good thing Raff and I kept our guards up. Kaz, I believe you were the one who pointed out they would have a Wayfarer too.”

Kaz was abashed. “You’re right, Em. I need to grow up.”

“No,” Em smiled, “You just need to stop playing when it is time to work.”

While they are talking, Raff continued to attempt to knock the other Wayfarer out, but he had to admit, “For one so isolated from the mainstream, this guy is pretty good. I wonder if we could recruit him.”

“Raff, are you crazier than Kaz?” Em demanded.

“I have more experience at it,” Raff admitted. “Captain, mind if I borrow one of the ship’s boats?”

“Your wife is right, Guildmaster,” MacKay told him. “You are crazy, but how long do we have before the others wake up?”

“As long as I want,” Raff told him. “You keep sailing, though. I can catch up to you.”

“Take the launch, then, if you must,” MacKay told him.

“The jolly boat would be enough,” Raff replied.

“The launch has a mast and a sail,” MacKay told him. If you plan to catch up to us, that will make it easier. I know you Wayfarers can make yourselves move like the wind when it suits you, but this way you can use the wind to do so.

“It will be better if I come with you,” Kaz told Raff.

“No, you stay on board,” Raff told him, “but I’ll take Chanya with me.”

“What?” Kaz asked in astonishment. “Why?”

“Why not?” Raff countered. Kaz was about to argue, but instead he glanced at Em, who merely smiled tightly and nodded.

“Why is he really taking Chanya with him?” Kaz asked Em after the boat had been lowered into the sea. “Why not you?”

“Perhaps he just thinks he has been ignoring her lately and wants to make up for it,” Em replied calmly. “Or perhaps he wants her to have more first contact experience.”

“Why not me then?” Kaz wondered.

“Chanya has more field experience,” Em pointed out.

“That’s hardly my fault,” Kaz argued. “I think he took her because she is less likely to argue with him.”

“Perhaps,” Em replied. “If you truly wish to know, try asking Chanya when they come back.”

“Chanya?” Kaz asked. “Why not ask Raff directly?”

“Because Chanya is going to be wonderring the same things you are,” Em replied, “and she will want to talk, I think.”

Chanya may have had questions, but she kept them to herself as she vigilantly kept a shield of Wild energy all around the launch. The islander Wayfarer was still upset and tried several attacks, but she was able to parry them all, including a particularly sneaky one that attempted to swamp then with a sudden wave that Raff had to help quell.

Finally, they were close enough to speak without shouting themselves hoarse and the native ceased his attacks as Raff raised his open right hand in both greeting and truce. “I don’t suppose you speak Grundish?” he asked calmly. The native looked puzzled, so Raff tried Cracian, and then Dixish. Finally he tried Kenlientan. Each time the native shook his head.

“Do you understand this?” the islander asked in a language that sounded like a mix of Corisan and Nillonese. To Raff’s ear, the pronunciations seemed wrong and he suspected many words would have different meanings and connotations.

“A little,” Raff thought he said. The native nodded and suggested a similar word that meant what Raff intended. “All right,” Raff nodded and introduced himself.

“My name is Tangaloa,” the islander replied.

“You’re pretty good, Tangaloa,” Raff replied. Tangaloa helped him rephrase that until it meant what he wanted it to. “You must have had a good teacher.”

“Our Taula is a man of much power,” Tangaloa replied proudly, incidentally correcting Raff’s implication the teacher was no longer alive, “like you, I think.”

“I know a few tricks,” Raff replied modestly.

“Yes, you are much like the Taula,” Tangaloa nodded approvingly. “Why are you here? You know we are warriors?”

“I figured that out, yes,” Raff nodded, “but I was impressed with your ability so I stopped to…”

“To speak?” Tangaloa asked. “With me?” he seemed both honored and amused.

“There are not many who can do what you do,” Raff replied, “and I suspect you are training to be the next Taula?” He was not sure if the word was a title or a proper name or both, but in his mind he thought of it as “Shaman” or “Witch Doctor.”

“That is my destiny if I am found worthy,” Tangoloa replied with dignity.

Raff nodded. “You need to know, then, that more men will be sailing here in ships like the one that brought me here. They will have weapons that shoot further and harder than your bows – many times harder and further. Some of them could destroy a boat, maybe several in a single shot.” It took a long time and many repetitions and corrections to get that across.

“We will fight to the death,” Tangaloa replied.

“You might,” Raff replied. “They will also have men like me. We call ourselves Wayfarers.”

“Wayfarers,” Tangalopa repeated the unfamiliar word. “Like Taula?”

“Yes,” Radd nodded. “However, you will not need to fight and they will not be here to fight you unless you fight first.”

“Then why are they coming?” Tangaloa asked.

“To trade,” Raff replied. “They hope you have things they want and that they have things that you want. You understand that, I am sure?”

“Of course,” Tangaloa nodded.

“Others may come who want to tell you about their religion,” Raff went on. Tangaloa snorted at that and Raff laughed as well. “Well, they’ll try. Maybe you’ll like what they say and maybe not. I just thought you should know.” He paused a moment then went on, “because you’ll make a terrible first impression if you try to eat those people.”

It should have been a forceful statement, but between having to repeat and correct himself it lost some of its impact. When Tangaloa finally understood he replied, “Long pig is not my favorite meal.” Raff had never heard the term before, but he caught the gist.

He laughed and replied, “You probably have to be careful who you eat, especially when you don’t know where he has been.” For a wonder, Tangaloa understood what he meant on the first try.

They spoke for another hour and Raff explained about the Guild of Wayfarers. Finally, Raff decided it was time to leave, but as he began to make his farewells, Tangaloa told him, “I still do not really understand why you stopped to talk to me.”

“Because you show a lot of promise, Tangaloa,” Raff replied, “and I am always looking for people like you.”

Four

Raff and Chanya caught up to Asperance just as the sun’s distorted-looking disk touched the horizon and sent off a bright green flash that could only be seen if one were to choose that moment to look at it. To Kaz’s great disappointment, however, Chanya was too tired to answer any of his questions.

“Kaz,” Chanya begged off, “Raff had me do most of the Wayfaring chores that allowed us to catch up.”

“Really?” Kaz asked. “Normally he likes to do everything himself.”

“Not this time,” Chanya told him.

“But, why…” Kaz began.

“Kaz,” Chanya responded. “I’m too tired.”

“Oh, all right,” he gave up. However, while he pestered her with questions for the next few days, he still failed to gain any understanding as to why Raff had chosen her to accompany him. By the time they found the deserted island, he had stopped thinking about it, though.

The island was a solitary basaltic formation out of sight of any other land and had a single volcanic mountain rising above its sandy beach. The volcano, however did not seem active and, still in need of rope to replace the rotting lines on Asperance, the ship approached the island with caution. There was no trace of a Stability anywhere on the island, but they did find over one hundred woven grass huts together in what should have been a moderate settlement.

“It looks like the whole town just decided to get up and leave,” Kaz remarked to Raff as they walked around.

“It could be,” Raff agreed. “It’s possible that they decided the place was cursed, or maybe their local chief got the notion of moving somewhere else. It’s hard to say, but I think the decision was because of the volcano. Can you smell the brimstone in the air?”

“It’s not strong,” Kaz pointed out. “Just a whiff, really. The volcano is active? It doesn’t look like it.”

“The smell could have been a lot stronger when they left,” Raff told him, “and yes, I think the volcano is active. They don’t always spew out lava and ash, you know. Sometime they just emit various gases and many of those are poisonous. I have heard of whole towns that were killed when a volcanic vent spewed something highly toxic one night. The people were found in their beds as though they were still sleeping.”

“Well, this lot seems to have not had time to pack their bags,” Kaz noted, “but they didn’t get caught sleeping. Or maybe they’re just hiding out in the bush?”

“We would see the Stability dome they caused,” Raff pointed out.

“Unless they are Kenlienta,” Kaz told him.

“What would Kenlienta be doing out here and living in such primitive conditions?” Raff argued.

“Maybe they were shipwrecked?” Kaz suggested uncertainly.

“That would explain their being here,” Raff agreed, “but this doesn’t look like a Ken village to me. The houses are too alike. They not only use the same construction techniques, but even the weave pattern on the walls is the same.”

“Sure, but what did they look like last week?” Kaz asked.

“No,” Raff shook his head. “I’ve never seen such uniformity in a Kenlientan settlement. It would take an entirely different culture, a different religion for them to build something like this. Life is Change.”

“And Change is Life,” Kaz responded automatically, “and this would be one heck of a change. Castaway sailors might decide that it was time to make the ultimate change or else stop changing until they returned to civilization.”

“Kaz, you, out of everyone I know, should understand how complex a so-called simple grass hut is to build.”

“I do,” Kaz nodded, “But I have no trouble imagining Kenlienta experimenting with the materials at hand. With their eagerness to embrace change I think they would figure out how to build something like these fairly quickly, especially if they had visited Moana Pai’aina or some of the other inhabited islands in the Bright Ocean.”

“Copying the technique I can agree with,” Raff told him, “but they would have been constantly reweaving the patterns in the walls or changing the shapes of the huts and so forth.”

“Well, okay,” Kaz shrugged. “Of course it’s possible someone rescued the whole town just a few days ago.”

“I have trouble believing Ken sailors who had seen the outrigger canoes of the Pai’ainans and other islanders of this ocean wouldn’t have tried to rescue themselves in similar vessels,” Raff replied. “No, this was never a Ken village.”

They returned to the ship with Captain MacKay and the other sailors who had come ashore in the Asperance’s launch and jolly boat a short time later. “They had some rope here,” MacKay told Raff, “but none of the pieces were long enough to suit us.”

“Too bad,” Raff replied.

“Indeed,” MacKay agreed, “And there was something different about it. I think they must have treated the fibers somehow to make them more resistant to rot.”

“Maybe they just used different plants,” Raff suggested.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so,” the captain replied. “I saw some pieces that while old, were in better shape than the poles they were holding together. “Well, if these people knew how to do it, maybe they have cousins in the region who know too.”

Two days later, the captain found just what he was looking for. Once more, the ship approached a small archipelago and as she sailed around the islands, a flotilla of eight canoes came out to greet them. This time the smiling natives included women and children and MacKay and his crew relaxed and got down to trying to find a common language. They spoke one similar to the pidgin that Raff had hacked out with Tangaloa and so it fell to Raff to negotiate. The people had plenty of rope and the materials to make it from, but were not interested in gold or silver. They admitted the metals were pretty to look at, but not hard enough to be of any use, but in the end, MacKay traded half the cast iron pots and pans from his galley for nearly one thousand yards of golden yellow colored cord of various weights that could be used to replace the failing lines and sheets of Asperance.

Sailors started replacing the lines in worst condition immediately and after a few days, MacKay felt confident enough that they could leave the rest of the purchased rope in reserve. As the Pai’ainans had, the natives shared food with their visitors during their stay and unlike the people of Moana Pai’aina, they sent boats out as an honor guard when Asperance weighed anchor once more and set sail.

“This place definitely bears revisiting,” MacKay told the Wayfarers once they were on their way. “Friendly natives with a commodity we find valuable and who are easy to trade with. Also they are in a good location for ships crossing the Bright Ocean from Hillena.”

“I found it interesting they had no Wayfarer among them,” Raff commented. “I think they must have at one time or other or they would never have made it here and some of the children may have had some talent along those lines. There were no obvious masters among them, but with training even a journeyman can be a valuable community asset. I think I’ll see about posting some wayfarers to visit these islands to teach such children if they can.”

“Do you think that is a such a good idea?” MacKay asked. “I wouldn’t sell them guns for fear they might eventually use them against us. Teaching them how to use Wild energy could be worse.”

“I think the potential risk is worth the definite reward,” Raff replied. “It is something they can use to improve their lives and if we treat them as friends I think they will treat us accordingly. The problem, I have found is that some traders will try to cheat them, offering trinkets for things they consider valuable. That works once or twice, but eventually they will realize what happened and resent it.”

“Do you think we cheated them?” MacKay asked.

“Not at all!” Raff laughed. “If anything they got the better of the bargain.”

A week later they finally arrived in Magagandang on Hillena.

Hillena

One

The name, Magagandang, might have meant “Beautiful” in the local language, but the port town failed to live up to its name. Two centuries earlier the first Cracian explorers discovered Hillena while making an attempt to circumnavigate the globe. Many of them were killed here and the rest were lucky to escape with their lives because several crewmen were greedy and got caught trying to steal holy relics from one of the native temples. However, Cracians had returned since then and had established colonial trading posts. Those trading posts grew rapidly and now Cracians controlled the entire Hillenan archipelago.

Magagandang was a dirty, smelly town where the gutters were open sewers and which rarely had a chance to drain and dry out before the next daily downpour. Kaz decided that whoever had built the town’s streets had no idea of how drainage worked. There were reaking puddles everywhere, many of which had grass and other vegetation growing in them. “I think when we find the Guildhall we should ask for a room at the back,” Kaz remarked. He might have grown up in a small and primitive village, but his people had a definite sense of cleanliness. The Lower Cracians who colonized Hillena and so other colonies, he had learned, seemed to think that the worse something smelled, the better it would work to keep disease at bay.

“The further from the street, the better,” Chanya agreed.

“That might depend on who the neighbors are and where they keep their garbage,” Raff replied. “I hope we got accurate directions to the hall, though.”

“I hope we got here ahead of d’Alere for a change,” Kaz added, “but I doubt we’re going to be that lucky.”

The Guildhall in Magagandang was a larger affair than expected although Raff was gratified to see quite a few natives employed as Guildmembers here and remarked on it.

“Yes,” the journeyman in charge replied. He was a tall man in his late twenties or early thirties. He wore his hair long, but neatly cropped and sported a large, bushy mustache more in style among Meninan gentlemen than in his native Lower Crace. His hair was still jet black, but the beginnings of wrinkles about his eyes suggested it would not be long before a few gray hairs would start to appear at his temples. “There are about one hundred different tribes on Hillena, but many of their young Suisparendos like working with us and this way we rarely have to ask for help from Central Guildhall.”

“And it helps to let the locals know the Guild is here for them as well as the Cracian colonists,” Raff added and finally introduced himself with his hand outstretched in greeting, “Raff Cawlens, by the way. My wife, Master Emblem Cawlens, son Master Kazani Basan and Master Chanya Sanai.”

“Guildmaster!” the journeyman gasped. “An honor to serve you, sir. I am Pablo Ramone di Omez.”

“Omez?” Raff asked suspiciously.

“It’s a very common family name,” Pablo replied with a shrug.

“I suppose it is,” Raff admitted. “Well, we’ll be needing two rooms for the remainder of our visit.”

“Of course, Guildmaster,” Pablo nodded. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Raff nodded, “but I’ll need to look at the hall records in the morning. Is the hall master in?”

“No, sir,” Pablo shook his head. “Master d’Angelo is out of town on business. This hall is the central one for all the Hillenan islands, you see, and he is frequently out of the hall. This time he said there was a matter he was needed to handle in the south.”

“This can’t wait for him,” Raff grumbled, “but it can wait until we settle in. It’s late now, but I’ll need you as a witness when I inspect the records first thing before breakfast.”

“Of course, Guildmaster,” Pablo nodded.

“Go easy on him,” Em advised Raff once they were alone in their room. “He’s just a man doing his job as best he can and that of the hallmaster as well. This hall may not be understaffed, but I suspect most of the people here are still apprentices and the master shouldn’t be out of the hall frequently.”

“A master is required to maintain the paths, Em,” Raff pointed out. “He has to get out of the hall sometimes.”

“If the area is that active, the use of the paths will maintain them well enough, I should think,” Em shot back, “and he cannot be the only Wayfarer of master rank in Hillena.”

“It’s the old balancing act between talent and availability, Em,” Raff told her. “Well, we’re getting nothing accomplished in our room. It really is quite late. Let’s get some sleep.”

The next morning, Pablo saw Raff and Em coming down the stairs and quickly assigned an apprentice to sit at the front desk before hurrying to meet the Guildmaster and his wife. “I got the key to Master d’Angelo’s office while you were upstairs,” he informed them.

“Thank you,” Raff replied. “Please lead the way.”

Machel d’Angelo was apparently the sort to collect local works of art and his office was filled with small sacred statues that might have come from Hillenan temples and tiles with ideograms that looked Corisan, but which Raff realized would have been meaningless to a Corisan scribe. The office was, however, tastefully decorated with an oversized desk.

“This desk is larger than the one I have back in Taundon,” Raff remarked. “Okay, I’m going to need the records of the hall for the last few weeks. I am looking for a specific man who should have arrived on board a Cracian ship named Rachel.”

“The Rachel just left the port a day ago,” Pablo informed them. “She’s headed back to Lorendo.”

“She got here well ahead of us, then?” Raff asked.

“She was only in port for five days,” Pablo replied. “Do you want me to get you the records? I did all the paperwork on Rachel.”

“Maybe not,” Raff replied. “We’re looking for a man named Julian d’Alere, though he sometimes uses the name d’Ace.”

“Master Julian d’Alere,” Pablo nodded. “Yes, he was here for a day and then accepted an assignment to escort a party to the Pangamese trading post on Nillon.”

Raff looked at Em and remarked, “Good thing we haven’t unpacked.” To Pablo he said, “Have our bags sent back to Asperance immediately.”

“I cannot, sir,” Pablo shook his head.

“Why not?” Raff demanded.

“The captain of Asperance was here last night and requested a Wayfarer to guide his ship back to Haristol,” Pablo replied. “Harold Bruce, a journeyman who had made his way here with various parties was due to head back westward, so I saw no reason not to give him the job. They left on the evening tide. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Pablo,” Emblem assured the man. “There was no way you could have known who we were looking for nor that we had hoped to commandeer Asperance to continue our chase in.”

“I told him he could request a wayfarer here,” Raff admitted. “I just did not expect him to do so immediately. So, when is the next ship to Nillon?”

“We don’t have a regular schedule to and from Nillon,” Pablo explained. “The Nillonese have very strict limits on how many foreigners are allowed in their land and equally strict arrangements on where they can go and who they can see.”

“So I have heard,” Raff replied, “but we are going there if we have to swim all the way.”

“Of course, Guildmaster,” Pablo nodded. “I will find a vessel willing to take you there, but it might take a day or two.”

“All right,” Raff nodded. “How long has Master d’Angelo been gone and when do you expect him to return?”

“He left the day after Rachel docked, sir,” Pablo replied, “but did not say when he expected to return.”

“Is he really the only master in all of Hillena?” Raff asked.

“We don’t get many master Wayfarers here, sir,” Pablo replied, “although there are several journeymen who could probably earn master status if we had a review committee show up once in a while. I’d like to think I am one of them. I know how to repair a path and do many of the routine maintenance chores a master is expected to.”

“Why haven’t you been sent back for review then?” Em asked, but Raff cut her off with a question of his own.

“How long have you been here?” he asked Pablo.

“Ten years, sir,” Pablo replied.

“And in all that time not a single master who could review the statuses of the guildsmen here came here?” Raff asked unbelievingly.

“It takes three masters to confirm a promotion, sir,” Pablo reminded him.

“They don’t all have to be here at the same time,” Raff replied. “I think your Master d’Angelo may like being the only one of his rank in the region a little too much. Something else to fix on our return to Taundon. I want reviewers in every corner of the global map on an annual basis at least. There is never any good reason to hold someone back from their rightful rank in the Guild.”

“Maybe while we are here we can get a start on that?” Em suggested.

“I hope we are not stuck here long enough, but I will send notices to Taundon and the next nearest Guild office, I think that would be in Salasia…”

“Sarlron is closer, sir,” Pablo informed him.

“It’s a newer office and with even fewer personel,” Raff replied. “The hall in Taarank will have masters to send, especially now that the Royal Salasian Company has placed a puppet on the throne of that land. We’ve been sending in more Wayfarers to push the Guild agenda.”

“I imagine they are having trouble with the native Wayfarer caste,” Pablo commented. “I ran into some of those people on my way here.”

“They’re an arrogant lot,” Raff replied, “but they have kept so much to themselves that they do not know a lot of what even our journeymen do. We have been recruiting some of their numbers into the Guild. The rest can do what they like, of course, but the Guild is more popular with nearly everyone else in that country. Or at least that is what is getting reported to me. I may get to see for myself depending on the best route home is when this is over. All right, why don’t you bring in everything you have on d’Alere.”

“Such as?” Pablo asked. “Master d’Angelo didn’t actually write up orders for him, just made a note that he was to escort a group to Toreidaazu Pureisu in Nillon.”

“Toreidaazu Pureisu?” Raff echoed. “The Traders’ Place? Not an imaginative name.”

“There are other names the Nillonese have for that trading post,” Pablo smirked, “but they are not as polite. They do not think much of our notions of cleanliness.”

“If the Trader’s Place is anything like Magagandang,” Raff replied, “I cannot say I blame them. Even the worst sections of Taundon don’t stink like this city does.”

“It’s pretty bad,” Pablo admitted easily. “Part of the problem is that the natives believe one should clean up their own messes and the colonists don’t want to get their hands dirty. Consequently, no one actually cleans up anything. I’ve been to Toreidaazu Pureisu and it’s nothing as bad as this city, but the Nillonese are very particular about such things. All food must be fresh, for example. They consider good aged meat as spoiled.”

“I tend to agree with them on that,” Em commented, but she let Pablo fetch the records they wanted. “I don’t like the fact this hall is keeping insufficient records,” she told Raff after the journeyman had left the room. “It makes me wonder what else Master d’Angelo is not reporting.”

“A lot of these remote hall masters do a lot of skimming and retire quite rich,” Raff pointed out. We don’t have the time or resources to ferret them all out, but the practice is frowned on. I’ll order a full audit of this hall. I don’t think our auditors are going to like me much though. I’ve already ordered audits for our most remote halls.”

“It will keep them in business for years to come,” Emblem agreed. “I think I should see about having some breakfast brought in. It sounds like we’re going to be here all day. Should I tell Kaz and Chanya to join us?”

“For breakfast?” Raff asked. “Sure, and after that I think I’ll have them help Pablo find us a ship to Nillon.”

Two

“What the hell do you mean d’Alere sent a package back to Taundon but you do not know to whom?” Raff demanded of Pablo six hours later.

“I did not record it, sir,” Pablo responded stiffly.

“Who did then?” Raff wanted to know.

“Master d’Angelo did, sir,” Pablo pointed out, “just as it says there in the record. He always said that so long as a parcel was labeled correctly there was no need to worry about who it was supposed to go to.”

“He was lying,” Raff growled. “Labels fall off. Labels can get smudged or marked over. A parcel might be late to arrive, but the only way to ensure it gets to its destination eventually is to keep records at the hall that accepted it in the first place. Damn it! Knowing who it went to could have allowed me to skip going to Nillon.”

“I thought you were intent on bringing this Master d’Alere to justice,” Pablo commented uncertainly.

“Only because he is connected to a greater conspiracy,” Raff explained. “He has superiors and I need to know who and where they are. If I knew that I’d go after them and just put out a notice that the toadies like d’Alere are to be imprisoned and sent to answer for their crimes. This is ridiculous. I want you to send out a summons to d’Angelo. He is to report back to this hall and stand before me without delay.”

“What about the ship to Nillon?” Emblem asked. “It leaves in two days.”

“I had forgotten about that,” Raff admitted, “but it can’t be helped. Kaz and Chanya can chase down d’Alere. They’re more than capable and it’s about time I stopped treating them as untrained apprentices.”

“Since when have you been doing that?” Emblem countered. “You left them in charge of the hall in Palendo City and as I recall you let Chanya do all the work on the way back from that island of cannibals.”

“I was seeing if she was as good as I hoped,” Raff explained.

“Then why did you take her rather than Kaz or me?” Em asked.

“Again,” Raff replied, “I wanted to make sure she was as good as I hoped, but also I wanted her to have some negotiation experience. She’ll be in charge of a Guildhall someday and probably not too far in the future. I plan to cancel her indentures to the Guild as soon as we get back to Taundon. Kaz’s too. They have both performed above and beyond and in situations we never expect our people to have to. In any case once she is a freelancer she will have the options as to where she wants to work and when. I don’t expect her to take an extended vacation, although she would be welcome to one, but I did think she should get a look at the sorts of things we sometimes have to do in unique situations.”

“I have to admit that attempting to recruit a cannibal into the Guild is a unique situation,” Em chuckled.

“Better an honest cannibal than some of Giles Harton’s cronies,” Raff retorted. “At least I would know what to expect from the cannibal. Besides, I doubt he would be going out of his way to eat human flesh if he did not need to. I could be wrong, but we’ve had a few other natives of the Bright Ocean in the Green Lands. They tend to adapt to our culture pretty quickly. Anyway, I wanted to see how she responded, how she maintained a protective shield and so forth. Chanya did very well, by the way.”

Raff and Em spent the rest of the day and early evening goijg though the hall’s journals back several years, frequently sending Kaz, Chanya and Pablo off for one reson or another and at the end it was Kaz who summed up the situation, “We’re not likely to learn anything else until Master d’Angelo shows up and accounts for himself. I think Chanya and I ought to get some rest if we’re going to Nillon tomorrow afternoon.”

Raff and Em bid them a good night and soon decided to get some rest as well. The hall was amazingly quiet as they left the office and Em remarked on that.

“It’s late,” Pablo pointed out “and we are generally up before the sun.”

“Makes sense,” Emblem nodded. “Well, good night.”

The hall remained quiet for another two hours, but when a loud noise rocked the entire hall, everyone was up. Raff bolted out of bed with Emblem close behind him and he stormed out to find what had happened.

“Felt like an earthquake,” one of the apprentices opined. “We get them here all the time.”

“Earthquakes usually last longer,” another told him. “They tend to rumble even if they sometimes come in short sharp shocks. This felt more like an explosion.”

“Check all the rooms!” Raff ordered, naturally taking command in the situation. “Pablo!” he spotted the journeyman who had been left in charge. “Take two or three men with you and see what you can from outside this building. I know we have neighbors and maybe whatever that was happened to them. Go!”

A few minutes later Em screamed out from the room Kaz had been sharing with Chanya, “Raff!”

Raff arrived mere seconds later to find Em cradling Kaz’s head on her lap. “What happened?” he asked urgently.

“I don’t know,” Em told him, “but Chaya’s been taken.”

She pointed at a trail of blood drops leading toward the bedroom window. Raff looked with his Wayfarer’s sense, looking for an aural trail and saw tthree such trails headed out the window. Looking around, he saw that whoever had attacked Kaz and Chanya had come in through the room’s door. He stepped to the window and looked out. He noted that all three trails had stepped out onto the flat roof of the neighboring building.

“You take care of Kaz,” he told Em.

“Of course,” Em nodded. “He’s had a bad knock on the head but I arrived in time to minimize the effects of concussion. Get Chanya!”

Raff exited via the window and found the trail crossed the next two roofs before entering the building on the far corner of the block. The building was the shop of a local merchant who gave an outraged cry and came at him with a machete. Raff used a whisp of Wild energy to knock the man out and then gently lowered him to the floor to the screams of his wife. “Sorry,” Raff told her in Cracian. “He’ll be fine.” It did nothing to reassure her and making a mental note to make reparations, he ran out the door, still hot on the trail.

The trail changed in such a way that from experience, Raff realized Chanya and her abductors had boarded a carriage or a wagon and ridden off at high speed. Hoping to be able to catch up, he ran back to the Guildhall and borrowed a horse from the small stable next to the offices and then rode back to where the trail was.

For the next hour he followed the triple aural trail as it weaved seemingly aimlessly through the city of Magadangang and then suddenly the trail stopped. “Should have realized I was dealing with another Wayfarer,” Raff berated himself out loud. “Well it takes more than an erased trail to stop me.”

He continued on to the end of the block and then started riding outward from there in a spiral pattern. He was rewarded half an hour later when he picked up the trail again which now ran straight toward the harbor area. A few minutes later he was outside a warehouse just across the street from the docks looking at the trail where it had gone through a wide doorway.

The door was locked and for a moment, Raff considered just using Wild energy to dissolve it into dust, but instead he decided to slip in through the building’s office door. As he expected, that door was also locked and this time he used the Wild to pick the lock and open the door.

Stepping inside, he stopped to listen, but heard no sounds coming from the warehouse area, so protected by his usual Wild energy shield, carefully opened the inside door and stepped silently into the warehouse The interior of the warehouse was not a single open area, but a grid of hallways leading to various-sized store rooms some of which were open and some had locking doors. He walked down the hallway and soon found a rough wagon just inside the large door it had driven through.

From here, Raff found the trails from half a dozen people, some of whom must have been waiting here for the wagon. He took two steps deeper into the building when a force thrust hit him from behind. It was absorbed by his shield and he turned to face his attacker with several force thrusts of his own.

There was a man in native dress standing in a doorway for just a moment and then the doorway frame dissolved under Raff’s attack and the ceiling fell in on the man. There was gunfire from a trio of rifles just then, but two bullets missed him completely and the third was deflected as it hit Raff’s energy shield so that it only grazed his left arm. Then he saw the three men charging at him, all waving machetes over their heads.

Raff tried to knock them out, but his attempt had no effect and he could see someone was shielding them. Instead, he mustered as much of the Wild as he could and sent a force thrust at all three men. A force thrust could knock out and, almost as easily, kill its victim, but when prolonged as Raff was using it now the effect could be far more devastating. When he looked a minute later all three men had been reduced to dust along with the wall behind them.

Beyond that erstwhile wall were two more men and, on the floor behind them, Raff saw Chanya. He did not bother to ask question or demand surrender. Now he just fought. One man stepped back further into the room they were in, but the other, another native Hillenan, dressed in a traditional loincloth with a headdress of golden grass and bright red feathers, armbands made of ivory-colored seashells and a necklace that Raff guessed were some sort of carnivore’s teeth, stood to fight him.

The native was also glowing a deep green and Raff was impressed. Being able to summon sufficient Wild energy at a sufficient intensity to glow inside a Stability was the mark of a true master Wayfarer. In truth, it was a show-offish thing to do, but could be useful for intimidation purposes. For a moment, Raff was tempted to glow as well and then shelved the idea. It was a waste of time and energy when you were really fighting. Raff decided this man must be one of the suisporendos of the region who had not joined the Guild.

The suisporendos were a combination of Wayfarer and warrior priest. In some ways, Raff had learned, they were similar in nature to the Wayfarers of Corisa who had adapted the use of Wild energy into their style of fighting, Lu Ke. Raff had picked up a few of the tricks of Lu Ke during a visit to Corisa some years earlier although he hardly considered himself a master of that fighting style. He preferred his own Grundish style of fisticuffs if he actually had to strike a blow, but the use of parries and other sorts of redirections of someone else’s force had been a revelation to him.

The suisporendo threw a punch and a piece of the deep green aura around him flew at Raff. In turn, Raff did not waste any energy with useless gestures and instead caught the green pulse in his own shield and got a nasty surprise when he felt it cancel out the defensive properties of the shield.

The suisporendo continued to “throw” the green energy at Raff and soon he found himself encased in a deep green sheath of energy that he had no control over. The suisporendo grinned nastily and started toward him, drawing a machete from his belt. Raff cast about for some energy to use and discovered that the only source the suisporendo had failed to cut him off from was direcly below his feet. He hastily drew as much Wild energy up and dissolved the floor beneath him.

Raff dropped three feet to the packed earth below the stone and concrete warehouse floor just as the suisporendo swung the sharp broad blade in his hand. As the blade pierced the green sheath it popped like a child’s balloon and Raff struck back with a force thrust.

The suisporendo, however, used his machete, in some way Raff was unable to follow to “cut” through the torrent of Wild energy and divert the thrust to either side of himself. However, Raff was able to use the distraction to jump back out of the floor, swinging his feet hard against the ankles of the suisporendo, knocking him to the floor and allowing Raff to get back to his feet and draw back the available Wild energy around him.

The suisporendo was an accomplished fighter and had rolled away from Raff and prepared for his next attack, but this time Raff made the first move and pulled all the Wild energy away from his opponent, leaving it out of his reach. However the suisporendo still had his machete and charged at Raff, swinging the blade at his head.

Raff ducked under the blade as it slashed just above his head, but at the same time he slammed his right fist into the man’s solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. After that it was a simple matter to knock him out with a mild force thrust.

Reaching down, Raff decided to take the machete, just in case the man revived sooner than expected. It was not as though the suisporendo was not dangerous enough as a Wayfarer, but since he seemed to depend on the slashing blade, Raff decided it would help to keep him cut off from it. Finally he ran to Chanya’s side.

“You missed d’Angelo,” she told him in a barely audible voice.

“That was the hallmaster?” Raff demanded.

“From what I could tell,” she replied, seeming to recover as she spoke, “He never actually left Magagandang at all and has been waiting for us to get here. I was taken as bait to lead you here.”

“He’s an idiot,” Raff told her. “His best chance to kill me was when I was asleep. Had he just broken into my room he might have succeeded. I’ve got to track him down now, but first we should get you back to the hall.”

“I’m feeling better,” Chanya told him. “They only knocked me out several times. I learned what I did by pretending I was still out, but they caught on fast so I didn’t learn much.”

“I think you learned just enough,” Raff told her. “Let’s get back to the hall.”

Just then a force thrust sizzled just above them and knock out a supporting wall. Chanya gestured toward the ceiling so that while it sagged, it stopped falling. “Raff, go get him. I’m well enough to make my way back on my own.”

Raff heard the sound of retreating footsteps deep in the warehouse and nodded. The chase led him to the building’s second floor and then just as he was descending back down again the stairs gave out from under his feet. He grabbed on to the rough rail and it slowed his descent enough that he was merely rattled a bit when he hit the floor.

Master D’Angelo, however, did not stay in the warehouse long enough to follow up on Raff’s temporary distraction and bolted out into the street. Raff thought that was a foolish move on d’Angelo’s part. Raff knew he had been completely vulnerable in the moment he was falling and made a mental note not to make the same mistake.

Once outside, Raff discovered that d’Angelo had stolen his horse, but he could hear the clatter of shod hooves just a block away. He took a deep breath and started running after the rogue Wayfarer. However, he did not have to go too far. Master D’Angelo was headed directly for his Guildhall, only seven blocks from the warehouse.

D’Angelo arrived at the Guildhall and raised an alarm the moment he stepped through the doors. “We’re under attack!” he screamed to the journeymen and apprentices who were still up following the earlier disturbance. “Rogue Wayfarer,” he added. “Defend the hall without mercy!”

“Do tell?” Emblem L’Oranne Cawlens asked calmly as she stepped into the room from the hallmaster’s office.

D’Angelo wasted no time and fired off a force thrust at Em. She had been expecting the move and had her defenses raised, but Pablo Ramone di Omez stepped in front of her and blocked d’Angelo’s attack with a shield of his own. Pablo’s shield was weak and could not completely protect him from the hallmaster’s force thrust, but as he fell unconscious to the floor, Emblem’s eyes blazed red and she shot white-hot fire at d’Angelo. The hallmaster was able to keep the fire from reaching him, but not the heat and he fell to the floor, his clothing and skin chared black. He twitched a few times and then, just as Raff ran into the hall, puffing and panting, d’Angelo died.

Three

“This is happening far too often,” Raff told Em a short time later as she bandaged his left arm. Raff had been so intensely concentrating on everything else that he had not really noticed the gash the bullet had left nor that his shirt sleeve was soaked through with blood. “Why are so many enemies in charge of our Guildhalls?”

“Perhaps we were too lenient when we dispursed Harton’s loyalists,” Em suggested. It was hardly the first time they had this conversation. “We thought that by separating them they would have little opportunity to hatch a plot against our new Guild organization.”

“The problem is we should have kept them close at hand and under constant observation,” Raff replied with a nod. “I know. How is Kaz?”

“You should have asked that first,” Em admonished her husband. “He will be well. I had a doctor brought here for him. They are upstairs right now, but Kaz is almost as poor a patient as you are. He wanted to follow you, you know.”

“He is my son, after all,” Raff chuckled. “Oh, I should go find Chanya.”

“I’m here,” she told him from the door. He noted she was still wearing her nightgown and then realized that except for having automatically grabbed a pair of trousers as he had gotten out of bed, he was not dressed any more appropriately.

“I shouldn’t have let you wander around town like that,” Raff remarked.

“I was safe enough,” Chanya chuckled. “No one wants to go near an obviously crazy lady.”

“I would not count on that, dear,” Em told her, “but you do have other ways to defend yourself.”

“Kaz?” Chanya asked.

“Upstairs,” Em replied, “Arguing with the doctor. He’ll be wearing a bandage on his head for a few days, but I think he’ll be fine.”

Chanya nodded and excused herself to get dressed. “I’ll ask the kitchen staff to serve breakfast early, I think,” she added.

Raff looked around. “Another hall in disarray. We certainly are shaking the Guild up again, but not the way I would like.” There was a groan just then and Pablo opened his eyes.

“Am I dead yet?” he asked groggily.

“No,” Raff laughed at the man, “not yet, but you might wish you were in a week or two.”

“Why?” Pablo asked suspiciously.

“Because you’re the new hallmaster in Magagandang,” Raff told him. “And I think it’s about time. You’re certainly more than just a journeyman and you have more than proven your loyalty to the Guild.”

“But Master d’Angelo,” Pablo protested.

“You missed that,” Raff told him. “We had his body removed while you were sleeping, Are you ready to get off the floor now?”

“I suppose it does nothing to bolster the Guild’s dignity for a hallmaster to sleep on the floor, does it?” Pablo asked.

“It can’t be doing anything for your comfort either,” Raff replied, assisting the younger man to his feet. “Looks like our trip to Nillon will be delayed by a day or two, though.”

“I will ask the captain to wait for you, but why not leave today?” Pablo asked.

“Because it would hardly be fair to just throw you into the job,” Raff replied, “even if you have been doing it de facto for a while now. But also now I want your help in going through d’Angelo’s private records.”

“He does not have any, sir,” Pablo replied. “He frequently said that one should never write anything down. That way you can’t get caught.”

“And we both saw how well that worked for him,” Em noted. “Raff, I think Pablo is correct, we should leave this afternoon. It’s our only reasonable chance to catch up to d’Alere in Nillon. He certainly is not likely to wait there for us and we still need to find out just who is behind him.”

“Unless Master d’Angelo broke his own rule and kept something in writing,” Pablo told her. “You should go to Nillon, but I will go through everything in this office. I have always suspected Master d’Angelo had a hidden vault in here. He frequently had papers that I only saw once. If I can find where those papers are, maybe I can learn what you need to know.”

“We may not be coming back this way,” Raff pointed out.

“I hope you will,” Pablo replied, “but if not I will forward what I find to you. I understand the Wayfarers’ Guild specializes is sending messages anywhere,” he added with a grin.

Epilogue - Yakrut

“It took them long enough,” Chief Elder Leraxa commented and she painted an ivy vine across the back of a chair. “I have seen this coming for two years.”

“I don’t understand, Elder,” Faisha admitted. The two women were sitting in Leraxa’s modest personal home in the middle of Yakrut. As the chief elder of the Ken nation she could have lived in the Elder’s House, a veritable palace in the center of the city across a street from the Hall of Elders where the Council met. However, she preferred the somewhat smaller affair she had lived in all her adult life even before she had been selected as the Elder of Yakrut.

“I mean that my opponants have finally managed to gain a sufficient number of colleagues to force a vote of ‘No Confidence’ against me,” Leraxa explained.

“When did they do that?” Faisha asked. “As my elder’s representative from Therin Kal, I should think I would have noticed had such a vote been proposed in regular session.”

“Apparently they invoked the emergency clause early this morning and held a session without either of us,” Leraxa told her. “Fortunately, even in an emergency they cannot vote out a Chief Elder without a full day’s warning, but Suranax, Durinia and Gentax have managed to schedule not one but four such votes for the next two days.”

“We have weathered such votes before,” Faisha assured Leraxa. When the younger woman had first arrived in Yakrut from Therin Kal to serve as the proxy for her village’s elder, it had been Leraxa who had first shown her hospitality and guidance and Faisha had never forgotten and felt that she owed the elder a debt. Faisha had acted not only as a representative on the Council of Elders, but as Leraxa’s adjutant within their political faction.

“Yes,” Leraxa agreed, “but the Council was on our side in the past. I have been watching the numbers and I fear that we, well not we… I have been losing popularity gradually since my investiture, but these past few years have been the worst. We have had crop failures on the Southern Continent and an earthquake in the southeast, followed by that tsunami on the Southern Ocean. The worst calamity has to have been the floating city.”

“Senopolis?” Faisha asked. “It does not actually float, you know. I’ve seen it.”

“Have you, dear?” Leraxa asked.

“Yes,” Faisha nodded. “Don’t you remember? It was last year when we had to move those two cities – Hannasit in South Western Corisa and Gera Sethit in Northern Salasia.”

“Gera Sethit can hardly be called a city,” Leraxa pointed out. “Your own Therin Kal is a larger settlement.”

“Perhaps,” Faisha nodded, “but I went there to help organize the evacuation when it turned out they were directly in Senopolis’ path.’

“Oh yes,” Leraxa nodded. “I do recall that. I sent you, didn’t I?”

“I volunteered and practically demanded you send me,” Faisha laughed. “Well, I cannot blame you for not remembering. As I recall you were entertaining the Elders from the Southern Continents that week. Elders Nienta and Saltaxis are nice enough, but I do recall that their colleagues were asking for a lot of concessions.”

“Considering the problems with their crops,” Leraxa told her, “their concerns were quite valid, but yes I was busy working out a way to aid them.” She turned back to the chair she was working on and continued to paint. “So Senopolis does not actually float?”

“If it did we probably would not have to evacuate Ken cities in its way,” Faisha pointed out. “But it does move fast enough to actually see its progress. I went inside the Stability to talk to the local Wayfarers.”

“Did you?” Leraxa asked. “You’ve come a long way with your studies haven’t you?”

“I’d like to think so,” Faisha replied modestly. “I can certainly withstand the effects of a Stability for a day or so, at least so long as I stay awake. So I went inside. I met a colleague of Raufanax there.”

“Of course you did,” Leraxa smiled, “You went to talk to the Wayfarers.”

“Not them,” Faisha shook her head. “This was Doctor Harkermor, one of the scientists who presented a paper at “The Shape of the World.” He collaborated with Raufanax on that paper and continues to work with him on some projects. It was a delight to actually meet him. I’ve read all the proceedings of that conference.”

“Have you now?” Leraxa marveled. “Do you have your own copy?”

“No, but the Library of Yakrut does,” Faisha pointed out. “Wait, why are you letting me get so far off the subject. That’s not like you.”

“Oh, my dear,” Leraxa sighed, “it is for the same reason I am painting this design on my chair; because it may be a long time before I have the chance to do so again.”

“What?” Faisha asked. “But, of course we will. We shall get past these votes and bring the government back in line.”

“No, not this time,” Leraxa sighed again. “Raufanax warned me about this. A weak government is the servant of the people, but a strong government can, in time, turn that situation around. Raff said that if we kept our Council in permanent session it would eventually get away from us. I did not believe him, of course, but at the time the new Council had just been established and no one was challenging my authority.”

“Perhaps there should be a limit to how long anyone could be the Chief Elder,” Faisha suggested. “That way if the wrong person gets into office it is only temporary.”

“It is too late to attempt to put that into law,” Leraxa replied.

“But we could use the same emergency clause to push that vote ahead of the others,” Faisha pointed out. “The way I see it, all three want to be Chief Elder, but only one can. While they fight among themselves, we can slip in someone friendly to our faction and its goals.”

“You’re becoming quite the politician, dear,” Leraxa smiled. “I do believe you might be better suited to be Chief Elder than I.”

“Never!” Faisha shook her head emphatically, but then something Leraxa had said registered in her head. “You said this was the last chance you would have a chance to decorate your home for a while. Even if ousted as Chief Elder this is still your home.”

“Yes, but I will not be here, dear,” Leraxa told her. “Did you know that Wayfarer Master Samuel Harton is back in Yakrut?”

“I didn’t,” Faisha admitted.

“He brought a supposed colleague with him,” Leraxa went on. “That person who accompanied him was a professional assassin.”

“Was?”

“He tried to shoot me with a human-built flintlock pistol,” Leraxa explained. “He missed, obviously, and then tried again with a knife. He may have been good at his work, but had never tried to kill a Ken elder. I got a few answers out of him before he died.” Faisha just stared at her mentor, so Leraxa continued. “Oh, I didn’t have to torture him. After I paralyzed him, he was so scared he just blurted out everything he thought I wanted to know.”

“Did the Three hire him?” Faisha asked.

“No,” Leraxa shook her head, “we can relax they have not become completely depraved, just greedy for power. Assassination was the idea of Master Harton, but the Three knew about it. My guess is that they have convinced themselves that this is purely a crime belonging to Harton.”

“If they knew about it, they are parties to the attempted murder as well,” Faisha replied. “Our law is clear on that.”

“They have plausible deniability, dear,” Leraxa told her. “We only have my word that the assassin confessed before I killed him. I should not have done that, of course, but I was annoyed.”

“Annoyed?” Faisha asked with a smirk. “Remind me not to make you truly upset.”

“Well, what’s done is done,” Leraxa replied. “The strange thing is that I have shown remarkable patience with personal insults for years now, but having my life threatened… We all have our limits, I suppose. In any case, I can see it is no longer safe for me in Yakrut. This evening the Council will meet and vote against me and even if they do not do so tonight, they will tomorrow or the next day.”

“So you will not be Chief Elder,” Faisha argued, “but you are still the Elder of Yakrut and a member of the Council. You can stand for re-election.”

“In time, perhaps,” Leraxa shrugged, “although I think Raufanax was also right when he advised me to act only as a moderator of the Council, rather than its leading voice. Besides you have not seen the other proposals on the agenda yet. Here.” She handed over a stack of papers and allowed Faisha to read through them while she went back to her painting.

“This is horrible!” Faisha replied at last. “They are proposing that the title of Chief Elder be invested equally between them and that they will administer the Ken Nation in three parts independently of each other.”

“Indeed,” Leraxa nodded, “Did you get to the proposal for extending the rights and priviledges of elders yet?”

“I did,” Faisha confirmed. “Elders should lead by example, not the force of law and should certainly not have the absolute power over their people as these bills would have. The elders won’t accept this! Uh… will they?”

“I believe there are sufficient elders on the Council who, feeling the frustrations inherent in simply providing guidance, would like to be able to just order their people around. We are, none of us, perfect, and such power is tempting even to the most virtuous,” Leraxa admitted.

“But in dividing the nation,” Faisha protested, “They will be making three separate nations just when we must be united. The problems we have suffered of late – those odd mixtures of Stable and Wild, the effect of human pollution on the Wild and our pollution on the Stabilities – if we are three, not one, which of the three will the Guild of Wafarers side with should we request their impartial assistance?”

“All good questions,” Leraxa acknowledged, “and ones I have had in mind for some time now, but it is going to take a leader more respected within our nation than I to sort all this out and keep us united. If I stay in Yakrut the divisions will get deeper, I fear, assuming I manage to survive Master Harton’s next threat. There!” she finished painting the back of the chair and started cleaning the brush. Then she changed her mind and just tossed it into the nearby fireplace. The paint and thinner flared up momentarily. “On my return I shall begin again with a new brush,” she decided. “That is nicely symbolic, don’t you think?”

She turned back to the fireplace and, using Kenlientan magic. Casually extinguished the fire. “Well, let’s go, dear.”

“Go?” Faisha asked. “Where to?”

“I have messages I need for you to deliver,” Leraxa told her. “We still have some powerful allies although most of them do not personally sit on the Council, sending their most promising students, like you, to act as proxies.” Leraxa picked up several envelopes and gestured for Faisha to follow her up a flight of stairs and on to a flat porch situated on the roof of her house. “I put this in years ago when we started having troubles with the three,” she told Faisha. “I believe our human cousins would call it a ‘widow’s walk,’ but I have another use in mind. I do not believe you know this spell. It is a calling.”

Leraxa demonstrated the spell, a complex weaving of the Wild energy which took a quarter of an hour to cast and sent whisps of the Wild out in all directions. “It should not be long now,” Leraxa commented. There was a loaded pack waiting for her in on corner of the roof. She picked it up and slung it over her back.

“Who or what did you just summon?” Faisha asked.

“You saw how I did it?” Leraxa countered.

“I did,” Faisha nodded. “You not only called but gave your reasons why.”

“Exactly,” Leraxa agreed. “It is important to make sure that it is a plea for help, not a command.”

“But who did you call?” Faisha asked.

“You’ll see soon,” Leraxa replied. She gave the envelopes to Faisha, “Now deliver these to Nienta and Saltaxis on the Southern Continent. On the Northern Continent you should see Elder Daltennis and go to Elder Gentaxis in the Green Lands and see him last as he may ask you to bring word to Coraxis in Marnas Nokit. When finished, wait for me in Therin Kal.”

“If you do not get there first,” Faisha replied. “That is a long way to walk.”

“Please take my hippogryph,” Leraxa told her. “Her name is Garaisha, by the way. She will need someone to care for her anyway. Don’t worry about riding her too hard. She will let you know when she is tired. She is an intelligent beast and a loyal one. You shall see. Fly her well.”

The screeching sound of an eagle, many times intensified could be heard to the northeast and when they turned to look they could see a very large bird approaching. It was predominantly bright red, but with a golden yellow patch on its breast and under its wings. The tips of those wings and it’s very long tail, however were the deep carbon shade of lampblack. Leraxa sent a shortened version of the spell she had cast to guide the tremendous bird to her roof.

“A phoenix!” Faisha gasped.

“No,” Leraxa corrected her adjutant. “The Phoenix. She is the only one of her kind. There are other firebirds in the world that some call phoenix, but they are all pale shades compared to the queen.”

“But where are you going?” Faisha asked as the Phoenix settled to the roof with deceptive gentleness.

“To find Raufanax,” Leraxa replied, climbing deftly on to the broad neck of the Phoenix. “He is out there somewhere, although I know not where. Once more, I must humbly request his aide. Once more, only he can save the Ken Nation.”