From JTPYO - King of the Land of the Dead [3] / a devil's work (excerpt: the streghi)

 I just started working on this part because I have been working on JTPYO - King of the Waste [3] / the trap for a LONG TIME and I just wanted to do something different for a while. 

In case you just got here, JTPYO is four novels: King of the Waste, King of the Fishers, King of the Heights, and King of the Land of the Dead. 

04 04 2025 ♀/ 04 08 2025 

All of this is copyrighted material and that means you're going to ask me if you can reprint or use any of it. To date, no one has – and no one has my permission to use it, therefore.

WARNING: Please don't read if you're offended by:

* Naughty language, blasphemy, sacrilege, etc.

* Insensitive and uninhibited references to disabilities and/or differences

* Recreational drug use and alcohol abuse

* Paganism and unconventional beliefs/practices

* Homosexuality

* References to the supernatural

* People praying and saying "praise God" and so on

* References to slavery and slavery-related subjects

* Expressions of misogyny, "homophobia," and so forth

Also, do not read any of this stuff – any of "JTPYO" – to children or allow them to read it. It's not for kids. Come on, you know that! If you've let your children read this at any point in the past, you're already having problems. (Actually, no one should read it, but that's another topic for another day.)

Anyway, yeah: Back to teh children. Tell the other parents before it's too late. Form a support group; you could call it "nax-alt" or something like that, i.e., a wholesome alternative for kids (and retarded adults) who have become a nuisance because they're constantly trying to act out scenes from my stories.

If you have made use of any of my writing – especially including past chapters, etc., from "JTPYO" that have been published in this blog – you should let me know ASAP by contacting me by email: rscribes@gmail.com. I'm not necessarily indemnifying you, but we should talk.

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19 February 2025 / 17 March 2025 / 4 April 2025

JTPYO – King of the Land of the Dead [3] / a devil's work (excerpt: the streghi)

Copyright © 2025 by Kristi A. Wilson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Which is me.

Brief synopsis: The Children of God are encamped in the province of Jaraniesca, in the north and east of Cela. The sorcerer Joliel enlists Naxosos's help in freeing an imprisoned creature called a streghi. Naxosos is at first agreeable and enthusiastic, then only agreeable, and then full of doubts. However, there may be severe repercussions to the tribe if nothing is done, so in spite of his misgivings, he continues with the project. 

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"Sire? The archmage will speak with you." It was Andiamo saying this – perhaps he had repeated it a few times – and Naxosos was warm and sheltered in bed, in the Goddess-on-Earth's tent.

Thais sat up. "How did you get in here?" She didn't sound quite herself, but she'd had a trying day and told him, before they'd fallen to sleep, that she meant to rest for a good many hours and that nothing short of an armed attack against the camp would be sufficient to rouse her.

Naxosos at first turned away and pulled the coverlet over his head, but knew it was no use so let it fall again. "Andiamo," he said, sitting up. "Why didn't you get one of the girls to let us know you were outside?"

He noticed the silence then, and the dark. No lamps were set. No one spoke or stirred, inside or immediately outside the tent.

A girl stood behind Bashdi Andiamo: A glance told Naxosos she was half-conscious, on her feet but wavering; she has hard to see because of the dark. No one else was up, or so it seemed: not just the Goddess's tent, but the camp without was eerily still.

That the tent was dark and quiet was in itself irregular, but not unheard-of; there was however an alarming lack of any activity or sound just outside.

"Oh, for pity's sake," Naxosos griped, though he was at the same time inordinately excited. (Will he really?!)

"Andiamo," Thais demanded again, "who let you in here?"

"I'm sorry, Goddess," the youth replied. Before he could say anything else, Thais spoke sharply to the girl: "Pranett! What is wrong with you? Are you drunk?!"

In fact she deserves praise for being as alert as she is, was Naxosos's thought, and he said to Thais as he pulled his breeches on, "She's enchanted, my dear." (If we're lucky, it's only an enchantment…) "Joliel wants to see me about something, don't fault them. You know how he is." His belt and scrip were close to hand, and his boots. (Where is my shirt?)

"Andiamo," Thais said, "Where is your brother? Where is Kozvit?"

"He's in Lumdi's tent, Goddess." Andiamo then seemed to shake himself and in a mildly apologetic tone said, "I'm all right, we're all right, Goddess. The sorcerer, ah, the archmage, cast a, a shade of silence, but I'm unaffected. He said you wouldn't be." (This last sounded a bit vague, perhaps purposefully so.)

He did pick the right moment, didn't he? People were resting up for the migration, which would begin any day now. Late-coming refugees had all been given money, food, and clothing, and turned back into the town, where they would winter-lodge with fishers.

He had not seen this for himself, but by report the road was all but deserted.

"Perhaps he lied," Naxosos remarked to Bashdi Andiamo, continuing to grope around for his shirt, finally finding it, but it was another span of moments before he managed to turn the garment right-side-out (it had sleeves down past the wrist, useful in the sometimes chilly weather, but a nuisance to get straight) and pull it on.

Andiamo chuckled briefly and said nothing; Naxosos then said (in as offhanded a tone as he could manage): "Do you by chance know of the Szera's location?" and the youth answered readily "No, Sire! He doesn't stay in one tent long. He's probably in the camp, though. He may be near the north gate."

"Oh, gods…" Thais said in a faint, despairing wail. "Oh, why can't he stop?" (Naxosos knew she was talking about Joliel, although he had not been aware of the sorcerer being within a mile of the camp in days. They were preparing for the move-out, that was why – everything had been in chaos.)

"Andiamo," he said as he laced his boots. (I've got to get out of here before there's an alarm!)

"Yes, Sire?"

"Where is Lumdi?!" Thais cried.

Yes, something's wrong; she is enchanted or… Then, with anger: That devil! What justifies this?! (It had to be something of note and not just a stunt or prank: The sorcerer had already shown his dedication to keeping Naxosos alive in spite of their argument, so that either of them would be killed was, had to be, very low-probability. And: One thing the visit to the Emperor's palace had impressed upon him, moreover, was that Joliel was not, in spite of rumors, offering him for sale. Not yet, anyway.)

The tribe, with a good many Pavrani refugees in tow, would depart this highland refuge within the next handful of days: Some would take a meandering and slow way north, but most would go south, following Naxosos and his immediate cohort.

Naxosos stood and, now that all he had to do was put on his cloak and secure his weapon, got a look at the young woman Pranett: Blinking stuporously, dark hair tumbled, with only her shimmy on (and it wasn't the warmest night), weaving as though at the point of collapse.

Thais, not much better, sat with covers bunched around her, seeming not quite herself.

For the southward-bound, the agreed-upon device was that they would wait until the light snows to begin the migration: The herdsmen would take animals down in groups as though driving them onto the lower pastures or to market, but most of these would stay on the road. Departing Children of God would travel out using the animals as cover, and in small companies continue on the coast road, most of them. Some might take to ship if they could afford it, but in any case the idea was that muster would be somewhere in the south of Pavrain, near the bank of the first great tributary, Uflio-Sina-et.

"There needs to be a light going in here!" he said. "Where are the other girls? I do not hear or see anyone!"

The total of numbers going south was over five thousand; many of them were unbaptized but all had expressed at least a token of desire to become so. (Korsis Zarodi had said in summation a couple of days prior, "So, it's not a pilgrimage: It's an army! We're an invading force!" and Naemas had said, "And once we teach them all to dance and sing, it'll be a moneymaking force!")

The youth responded to Naxosos's question:"There was no one here but Pranett and I had to awaken her."

"Fucking Joliel!" he muttered.

Some would go into town and stay there, with assistance from local fishers, as the weather grew worse, to leave in little groups and join the migration as they willed or could manage.

The townspeople were cooperative, including many Celans who didn't see a lot of point to the war in Satria and who had – gradually and without fanfare – turned against the Empire, with a majority of these sympathetic to the Children of God. (Money made things easier, of course.)

It was in any case a fatiguing, watchful, anxious time, although Naxosos recalled now that this evening's dinner and afterwards had been extraordinarily pleasant.

Dinner. There was a sort of blank there, he realized now, and yet a few tiny details seemed etched into his memory as though they were the most wonderful and somehow significant and important things he had ever witnessed or known.

Hm…

Andiamo, meanwhile, answered Thais: "Lumdi is well, Goddess, please believe me, no one is in any danger and they are well, they are sound asleep, Rhatial is sleeping, my brother sleeps peacefully at the tent door with his spear beside him, I saw them all with my own eyes not more than a couple of minutes ago."

"Andi: Do you know where the Second is?" Naxosos then asked the youth, who replied, "I do not: The last week or so she hasn't been in the expected place – sorry, Sire."

"Oh, that's all right, I was just wondering." He doesn't know where some of them are, hm. While it wasn't Bashdi Andiamo's responsibility to report the locations of anyone except the Possessed, it was unusual for him to not know all the gossip by the close of the day.

He's enchanted, too.

If this was any of Joliel's doing, he broke at least one of his oaths to the Goddess-on-Earth.

It's not going to be just a little run and back and it has to be me. Despite his misgivings he was all at once wide awake.

He saw Thais still sitting with the coverlet clasped to her breast, giving no indication she had heard their exchange, or had paid any attention to Andiamo's response to her question. In fact, the Goddess-on-Earth looked much like a person desperately trying to recall some vital bit of information: he felt pity for her and the girl Pranett, and resentment toward Joliel. He doesn't have to do this.

Resentment was good, though: It lessened his yearning and the bothersome wanting-to-know.

(Wherever could Nirith be?)

"Is everyone in the camp drugged, or enchanted, or whatever it is?" he inquired of Andiamo. In his mind, meanwhile, the tedious litany began anew: All I asked him to do was pray with me…

"No, Sire."

Looking all around now, and listening: There was a great silence that extended into the greater encampment outside the Goddess's complex. That he wasn't more alarmed he found disconcerting.

The warriors were all awake – if they were anywhere within a mile of him, he could always feel it, if he chose. They were awake but, strangely, none of them was near.

It was surpassingly odd, but fell just short of being an alarm.

Joliel could walk in silence and invisibility if he wished, and had a facility for drugging people, although that was officially forbidden to him. He seldom tried any of his tricks on Thais's warriors, though Naxosos had seen that he would drug them, if it suited his purpose.

Considering these things made his hackles rise.

"They're not doped, they're just not seeing or hearing him and whoever else is in the shade," Andiamo said now, having perceived the direction of his thought. Then: "At least no one is doped that I know of!" With a wan smile: "They're sleeping in the shade!" (In camp-talk, that meant people slept under a warding of silence, naturally sleeping, but very deeply, because the ward blocked the outside noise and kept others from having to hear one's noise. Naxosos doubted this was entirely the case, of course, for a shade of silence was not supposed to put people to sleep, but only enhance sleep or assist with privacy.)

Naxosos remembered now that he had thought during dinner that something was a little off.

"Is it a, is it possessed?" He said also to the girl Pranett, "Young lady, please seat yourself on the couch next to your mistress, if you will," and she did so, though she remained scattered and seemed almost not to hear him. Now if she collapses, she will not be hurt…

"No," Andiamo said. "There's no one possessed anywhere within miles, nor an Undead. He said –" The youth hesitated.

"Thais?" Naxosos said and she answered "Yes, darling?" although she was, like Pranett, half in a dream, an unfocused stare upon her face.

Andiamo said, "He said he wants for you to see something. He says meet him outside the tents at the south, the Cloud Doorway."

"Thais," Naxosos said, "just lie down and you, Pranett, you will sit and watch over her, since we don't know where the Second is, and I will have Andiamo here guard the tent, and you get some rest, darling, do you hear me? It's nothing, I'm sure – you know as well as I that his enchantments are annulled at any threat of harm to your person, or mine!" With a short laugh: "Maybe he just wants for me to sing for him!" I'm babbling.

"Oh, Naxo!" she said, rocking back and forth: "Don't go!"

"It'll get worse if I don't, you know it will, and you have no business going anywhere at the moment – you know you are not yourself, let this young lady watch over you, and Andiamo guard the tent. I won't be long: you don't have to worry about me wanting to spend more time with him than necessary!" It'll be more than seeing.

Then: If there's something he needs or wants from me, why get so bent about me just saying that I want him to pray? He could have pretended! Unbidden there came memories, both remote and recent, of converts to be baptized telling the priest that they had prayed when they hadn't (and then Naimejo's voice starting in at a low, intimidating grumble with his infamous lecture about how lies are like cracks in a foundation).

Was the sorcerer so fearful of his gods that he dared not feign worship of another for even a couple of minutes? It was a most disquieting notion.

"Thais, you're not lying down!" He sat beside her and kissed her shoulder. "I'll at least find one of the fighters and make sure the camp is safe before I come back here." (She made no response and indeed, seemed not to have noticed the gesture.)

He'd had opportunities, since returning to the Children of God, to discuss the entity encountered at Shoela-hari in the dream-world, a creature – or a region – of extraordinarily strange and frightening energy that Szera Zeracx had jocularly referred to as "the festering boil on the world's behind" and claimed some familiarity with, though they had not yet had further speech about it. He had spoken of it with some of the priests, and, memorably, a few adventurers and treasure-hunters: Those unaware of his intention to seek the throne of Arigne advised him to avoid Shoela-hari: One said, "It's Corruption's Breath, every man who's thought to plunder a grave in Kheoran over the last thousand years has known it! And its hive is the Place of Lions!" – and the tribe's priests had blanched, though none would argue against his plan.

Thais wouldn't follow, he knew – not any time soon, anyway – and so he rose again and got his cloak fastened. He thought of asking the girl Pranett to set a lamp but then observed she had already fallen to sleep, and was lying sprawled across the corner of the bed, snoring faintly. Motioning to Andiamo, he said, "There's a shawl at the end of the couch, there – why don't you cover her with it?" This the other quickly did, and Naxosos added in a jocular tone, "That's enough! She doesn't need any more tucking!" which made the youth laugh. (Throughout, the Goddess-on-Earth sat crosslegged upon the bed clasping at her bedding, with her bare back and arms, and her pale hair shining in the dark. Her face was uncharacteristically blank and her expression absent – she stared into the air before her as though trying hard to remember something, her lips moving slightly. There had better be a justification for this, or he's in trouble…)

Tolalo had begun to nod and say "Mm-hm, mm-hm," before Naxosos had got a few sentences into his recounting of the dream and the entity, and called what Naxosos had seen "a doorway" and had added "– Although it's alive – yes, alive – in a manner I would have a hard time describing." As with Szera Zeracx, they had not yet had an opportunity to discuss it further: Talk about dreaming, visions, or supernatural encounters at dinner or meeting was forbidden here in the great camp, for there were too many new people and many unbaptized.

"Andi, have you your weapon?" Naxosos asked the youth, who grunted in the affirmative. They left the tent.

A suspended lantern glowed in the misty, cool air just outside. There were benches and a little awning for whoever was on duty, and some game-pieces lay on a table but no one was there – he saw no one lying asleep, either. It was as though the usual crowd, present day and night wherever the Goddess-on-Earth set her tent, had vanished. A single torch burned, and that just barely.

And there was no one around. Turning all about, he saw a flicker of fires under trees to the north and heard animal noises, although these were more muted than usual. Someone was up, but this part of the camp was deathly quiet.

These discoveries left him annoyed, though not terribly surprised: The Goddess's complex was always, in theory anyway, the safest part of the encampment.

Naxosos went on, leaving Andiamo at the tent door.

The complex in this camp had been here for a time so the undergrowth was all flattened, boughs and lathes and planks set to keep people's feet out of the mud (the time of storms was coming and it rained almost every day with the shepherds reporting snow). The cluster of tents was separated from the rest of the camp by a head-high barrier of brush and deadfall.

Regardless, there was supposed to be a watch over the main tent at all hours.

How did he get them to leave their posts like that?

He saw a few more torches, but again there was no guard, or anyone. Why does he DO these things?

Once outside the Goddess's complex, he began to jog. The misty air was pleasant. He stayed off the boards and to the side of the path so as not to make any noise.

The south entryway to the camp – the Cloud Doorway it was called – was perhaps a jog of five minutes. The night was quite dark; it was easy to keep to the path, however, as the tents were almost all of light-colored material. He started toward this gate now, amazed at how absolutely deserted the scene was.

In truth he was tired of routine and of having to display largess towards the quarrelsome, disruptive Pavrani refugees (who were at least for the moment, however, being wonderfully peaceful, praise God, as they were resting up for the migration) and at some point in the next few days he and his cohort were going to leave this fair, friendly place with a very hard road and an even harder goal ahead of them. It was not often he was able to go about the encampment (or anywhere) without people trailing in his wake, or waiting somewhere up the road in ambush.

Here and there a torch burned, he saw, or a campfire smoldered, but – at least on the way out – no one was on watch. Anywhere. He would have to say something when this was over to make sure it didn't happen again.

The expectation that he would at any moment see someone, or be hailed, was unpleasant, but the unfolding spectacle of a deserted camp was even more distressing.

Three "roads" – really just well-established foot-trails – intersected just south of the camp's guarded perimeter: One went down, down, down into the forested sink, where most of the families were camped, the other crossing the height, the "King's Rest," where his tent and the tents of his cohort, the Goddess's complex and the priests' tents all were: If one continued on this trail it turned, eventually, into a long, rocky highway heading north into the distant mountains and further, if explorers' maps were to be believed, and the tales of wandering priests.

The third road snaked around and around a number of hillsides, and up and down through pastures and bogs and stands of many different kinds of trees, into the town of Jaraniesca.

This intersection lay just beyond the Cloud Doorway, manned and guarded at all hours – or it was supposed to be.

"See something"…! Yes, I wager we shall.

A few of the tents he passed glowed, showing wakeful occupants; here and there were heard voices, but for the most part an unsettling somnolence lay over the camp. The sounds of animals were lessened also: The "shade of silence" would account for that part of it, but not for people being absent from their posts.

It was that kind of night: Cool and invigorating, with just enough light to see the ground and rocks, when, pleasantly tired from a day's efforts, one argues and jokes with friends over a good dinner and, after a drink or two of wine, retires before lights-out, snuggling into one's blankets to whisper and kiss and maybe a few other things with a favorite person, finally to fall into one's dreams like a heavy stone tumbling slowly, slowly from a height to plunge into a deep…dark…soundless…pool.

With a shock that slowed his steps: I'm enchanted, too!

Or drugged – yes, some of the sparkling nature of the evening's dinner and company now seemed to have been a little too sparkling and none of the warriors had been present, he remembered, and he now remembered that it had seemed a little off to him, that not a one of them had been there, but the crystalline mountain air and the pure, deep-blue onset of twilight, and the hushed sounds of the camp getting ready for the night, were stuck in his mind as though there had been some extraordinary happening attached to it all, but there hadn't.

Not yet, anyway.

Joliel was definitely breaking an oath, several oaths. (Why…?!)

Something Andiamo had said now returned: He didn't know where Nirith was. Naxosos realized then he had not seen the woman for at least a day, probably two days or more, now that he thought about it. Naemas had not remarked on this – Korsis had said nothing, nor had Szera Zeracx, or Thais, or anyone else at all. (Most of the women were over wanting to be around the Szera all the time and had gone back to their usual routines; Naxosos doubted that's where she was.)

There was the Cloud Doorway and, true to his expectation, there was no guard upon it even though it was supposed to be watched, by at least four armed men, at every hour of the day.

The Doorway, so-called, was really more of an idea of a door, as the camp had no tower, wall, or gate here, but merely a few torches set during the dark hours to help the camp guards identify those who approached. There were pickets to tether animals and a couple of watering-troughs. There were tables and benches.

But tonight, no people and no animals, except for a few insects lethargically chirping.

Generally the area was well-lit and populated but again there was no one. Some of the torches had gone out in the mist that was increasing to drizzle; wisps of smoke hung white in the air. Again, it was as though everyone had disappeared.

I will NOT call out! If he's not here, I'll simply…

As soon as this thought passed his mind, he saw the other standing in the middle limb of the crossing, the path that went into Jaraniesca town, where the roadway, broad enough for carts and somewhat rutted, was shadowed in tall pines. The watery light, what there was of it, shifted about like patterned gauze in a breeze.

Against these wan, slowly-dancing shafts of light and shadow the sorcerer's black raiment stood out plainly, and his white face with its weedy black beard, heavy black brows, and black button eyes also was easy to see. (The scene was unnaturally quiet and dreamlike. He thought of Thais's cry: Oh, why can't he stop? and the hair on his neck rose yet again. "See something…")

"Where are the guards who are supposed to be here, Joliel?" he demanded. (Of course, because absolutely no one else was present, he had to drive down an urge to run up to the other and treat him in a most friendly way. And perhaps a little later ask him many, many questions.) "Almost the whole camp is missing! Did you –"

"They're all right," the other answered. "I told the boy, I told Andi what to say to Thais when she starts coming around – that should be in about half an hour. She'll take care of any problems." With a little laugh: "The fighters are on the alert tonight. You'll see why, whether you come with me or not. That's why you want to come."

"A, a half – a half hour!?" Naxosos fumed. "So, we're actually going to go somewhere? That figures! There'll be people looking for me before we get back! Why –"

"Oh, stop. You're not listening! Andi knows what to say when she wakes up. She won't raise an alarm."

"You're supposed to serve her, Joliel!"

"She is not needed here! Andi will settle her. Not everyone in the camp is affected." With a snort: "You're the only one who can put that many people to sleep at once!"

He is…he's making an effort to be sincere and sober without being suspiciously so!

Naxosos waited for the other to say something, anything, else, but Joliel remained silent. "You sent for me," he said finally. "Thais and her attendant seem enchanted and there's a notable absence of activity. I saw no one walking through camp – I just walked right out and no one accosted me. No guard is set; Nirith is nowhere to be seen and Andi doesn't know where she is. You said you wanted to see me, to show me something. I hope what we're going to see justifies what you did, or you may have to face an inquest." Joliel started to speak, but Naxosos interrupted: "I told you after Bourskina that I won't be tricked by you anymore! I have the authority to punish you and since you've decided to turn on me for no real discernable reason, I don't have as much of a problem with that as I used to!" Especially after we went to see the Emperor, he thought, though he dared not say it.

The other answered, ignoring Naxosos's threat, "Yes, I feel you must see this. It will be to your great benefit, and mine, although I will not mislead you: Some may die."

He still sees in me a pirate, Naxosos thought with sadness and amusement. "I'm not that keen on risking my life, if that's what you're asking." Then: "We're not just going to look at something, are we?"

The sorcerer moved closer by a few steps. The wind stirred now and they were showered by a flurry of cold droplets. "We have to go into Jaraniesca town. We will pass the warriors on the road – I do not want them involved in this – it's a wager that they're aware of this thing but they should not interfere unless you draw their attention."

"Mm-hm." (Not "we" – "you.")

"As you're already aware, there are no refugees on the road, so we don't have to worry about that."

"Yes." (Now it's "we" again.)

"If we run it's an hour or less. The path might get slick if it rains but I won't let you fall. What do you say?" There was scorn in the archmage's voice and a smile; of course he could cover the miles between the camp and the town, running, in the less time than it would a man on a fresh horse to cover the same distance – or in even less time than that, were he to travel "between worlds."

"Do I have any choice?" Naxosos said with a weak laugh.

"Hm," the other replied, and then, amazingly, took some moments to think it over. "Hm…I would say…I would say, yes, you do have a choice. I'm not going to force you: I can't. But if you refuse you will find, to your eventual chagrin, your choice was a poor one." After another moment: "It will reinforce my suspicion that you are an even bigger fool than we had imagined."

"What is clear is that this will benefit you to the degree that you will bother to be nice to me, give me information, and bargain with me. But it's not clear how any of this will benefit me. I am leaving camp with only you for an escort. Surely, we know the way into town and it is an easy run. But what will we find? Are we indeed risking our lives? Why can't you describe what –"

Joliel interrupted. "You will be in little to no danger but human lives may be lost, I'm not going to lie. Your presence may ensure that as few humans die as possible."

Ah!

Joliel had known of Naxosos's encounter with the elthir-evo, so-called, without Naxosos having to tell him of it: Of course, there had been only a fragment of conversation before they had fallen out, finally and, it seemed, forever, after Naxosos had asked the other to pray with him upon the height of Jehnehannu.

Again the wind gusted, bringing more spray from the boughs overhead.

"If it's such a big deal, why can't I know what it is? Why just hints and so on? It seems you really need me for something. So why can't you tell me what our mission is, therefore?"

The sorcerer hesitated a long time before replying. "If I tell you what it is that you will see, you won't go," he said, finally. "But you should. And, as I said: You'll regret it if you don't."

Naxosos knew he was going to go with Joliel this time and believed, further, it was a matter of some importance to the tribe at large, and he was moreover so intrigued that he would hardly be able to force himself not to go, but he lingered anyway, pretending to think it over, and then remembered his device of keeping the image of mending fishing nets foremost in his mind: After Travowil, he had started using this to keep the other out of his thoughts.

"I could use a run," he said, "now that you mention it. But I promised Thais that I won't go into town." Mending fishing nets for hours in the sun, with the cries of seabirds overhead. Mending nets. The voices of women gossiping and singing as they mend fishing nets. Mending nets. Mending nets. (At this, he was amused to see Joliel grimace, though the other continued speaking soberly enough.)

"In fact," the sorcerer Joliel said, "the place in question is not inside the town wall. But if we go around the houses instead of through them, it may well be sunrise until we return; it will add an hour." To Naxosos's unspoken question: "The time is now an hour until midnight. I propose that we run down to the town, pass through it to the wharf district –"

"I'll have to show my face at the gate and I may be seen along the way. Aren't there wanted posters for me in the town? Someone may know about the phony sulindars, Joliel! Have you even considered that?!" (This drew a snicker from the other.)

"I was thinking of casting this same shade to get us through town, but…now that you mention it…"

"Why will we go through the wharf district? I will not assist you in any type of robbery or game!"

"Shut up, fool! It's not that. You'll see. Listen!"

"Speak clearly, then!"

"I don't want to waste my energies just to keep us hidden as we pass through city blocks; I may need to cast a shade to get us back here. And…" Here was a significant silence and when the sorcerer continued speaking, his words were measured: "And I may have to do other things. I may not be able to do all the things I need to do without…"

Without my help.

When Joliel spoke again it was with an air of resolution: "So, you're right: We'll keep to the outskirts of town." After a lengthy pause, while he stared at Naxosos: "Are you ready? Do you have your scrip? A weapon?"

"In fact, I have everything I need except food or money for a month-long journey, including my fake identity papers!"

"Very well, let's –"

"Joliel."

"Yes?"

"Why not get one of the warriors to assist you? It seems one of them would –"

"This is something I'll need to explain later, although once you see, no explanation will be needed. We must run in silence. I won't let you fall but still you should take care! You know the Celans employ magicians, too – yes?"

With a shiver: "Oh, I remember."

"They're nothing, really, to worry about, unless we start to attract attention."

After another moment of consideration: "This isn't just so we can be intimate, is it? Because…"

"Not today! My goals are as stated and none of this involves intimacy. Some other time, maybe!" With a rude laugh: "I told you I wasn't done fucking you yet. Hold your peace."

"I was simply asking!"

The other waved his hand. "There is no fault."

He's definitely not just showing off, Naxosos considered. He needs me for something that he can't or won't do with anyone else. Then: Nothing "really" to worry about – what a scoundrel!

The voice came, unbidden: You know how to kill it.

Yes, I do.

After a silence: "Can you tell me where Nirith is? Is she involved in this?"

"You may not see her, but yes: She is involved." Here the sorcerer grinned boldly with all his teeth.

"Let's not waste time, then," Naxosos (sovereign of the Children of God) said to Joliel (archmage of the Children of God) at the crossroad outside the great encampment in Jaraniesca province, a far corner in the north and west of Cela.

With an unreadable smile, the other turned and proceeded down the limb of the trail that tended south, toward the town; he walked quickly for about twenty yards and turned again to look back at Naxosos, who began to trot after him.

With magic Sight he could see everything well enough. The sorcerer picked up his pace and Naxosos was aware that he would have to follow quickly.

When we get a chance to talk, I'm going have to tell him to stop bothering the women.

He ran, following the robed figure sailing over the uneven path ahead like the inky shadow of a great bird.

The night was fine and his boots were new.

***

Town-light had grown marked and Joliel stopped their progress and, motioning to Naxosos, turned and ascended a side-trail through tall spindly pines and tangles of bushes to a crag of pale-gray stone, bare except for patches of moss, weathered to roundness.

Jutting over a deep, broad river valley and with a stupendous view, the prominence served no useful purpose except as a place, if one stayed among the trees and scrub, to get out of the wind, or to shit: To go anywhere except back the way one came on this path would result in a nasty and possibly fatal plunge.

"We're about two miles from the shore," the archmage whispered – somewhat unnecessarily, as Naxosos knew this part of the trip well.

At this vantage there was only a glimpse of the far Channel; a ridge concealed the harbor from view. Open water was a faint, metallic line to the south, seen between shoulders and peaks when clouds allowed.

With his white hand Joliel pointed, saying, "There is the Temple of Vranaps," and Naxosos saw the building complex across the valley through maybe a quarter of a mile of vaporous air, lit by guttering torches, wedged into the side of a hill dense with trees. It was much harder to see during the daytime.

The sky was heavy with purple-black, slowly-moving clouds like clusters of ripe ja-hali fruit, a yellowish sickle moon dropping beneath them, about to disappear behind the western hilltops. A few barely-twinkling stars were visible. Columns of pale mist inched in courtly procession along the river far below. Usually the river was easy to see from this spot, even at night, but tonight only little bits of it were showing.

"Why do we stop?" Naxosos inquired. (Most of their road was downhill and they had been running in cool vapor alternating with drizzle – it had been as refreshing, almost, as a bath and oil and he was scarcely breathing.) "I doubt if that poor old temple is what you wanted me to see!"

"Shh!" the sorcerer griped. "Don't talk! Listen and feel! Give it a good couple of minutes."

The spoor of the Goddess's six fighters and their horses was all over the area; as Naxosos stood sniffing and listening, however, he detected a suggestion that at least one of the fighters had recently come through and might be somewhere on the road ahead.

"Merelioides is near. Is it him?"

"Yes," Joliel responded in an uncharacteristically prompt manner. "I thought he might try to prevent us from doing this."

After a moment of shock: "If you want to fight Red, you're going to have to do that yourself, Joliel! If that's the plan I'm going to turn around right now and –"

"Quiet!"

Lowering his voice: "I am not going to argue a case for you to disobey the Goddess! Never! I would –"

"The towheads will know – there's no way they can't," the other drawled. "Thais will know, that's why I – ah, never mind. It's not a concern. Merelioides isn't going to try to stop me, he knows better: He may try to stop you, though. But –"

"And like I said, I will not fight with him or interfere with his work in the least way! I'm not crazy! Joliel, I –"

Turning to him with a frightful intensity, the other snarled: "Listen!"

Naxosos quieted, held his cloak tightly bunched about his neck and shoulders – because it was flapping – and stood listening.

They had started turning northbound refugees back a few days ago and now the roads were deserted of traffic compared to how they had been. Holds in the valley were viewable by their smoldering fires and tree-cleared fields, but these were distant; the valley residents did not place much value on roads going up and down, as the shepherds and herdsman would always make a better way than one devised on their behalf, and a different way every season, whether it was better or not.

The sounds of nighttime birds and insects were abundant now that the road was empty of refugees, but, listening hard, he heard, finally, what the sorcerer wanted for him to hear.

A memory rushed in: Chaeneth, in his dream, recounting the destruction of Vlaitor Rostini's home including its great library and unkempt, venerable, beloved olive-trees, and his stores of food, and how poor Vlaitor had wept and stormed and screamed at the loss of his home and the kidnapping of his slave-women.

This sound was subterranean, far-off, but harsh and penetrating, full of loss and despair and bitter ire, each cry dying away into guttural sobs of complete hopelessness. It was a man-sound, though could not be from a normal man: It was too loud and prolonged, too relentless. A normal man, regardless of his dedication or how high he was, would have screamed his lungs ragged by now – he thought: and just at that moment, as he listened, he heard whatever was making the sound pause to take a breath, then with renewed energy hurl its anguish into the night and earth, and both trembled with it.

Yet to regular hearing the howls were faintly if at all audible: Whatever was making this noise was likely underground.

A traveler, hearing unenhanced, might get a feeling of strangeness along this part of the road, especially in this particular spot and, if he were to stop and listen closely, he might hear it. His riding-animal might show uneasiness and he might wonder about it – but then he would simply hurry onward, taking little note of the sound, if he did hear it, except to listen for a minute in an attempt to determine which side of the river gorge it was on, and whether it was drawing any closer.

A possessed man might make sounds like this, but…

As Naxosos took an instant to consider whether Andiamo might have somehow been tricked or coerced into lying to him, Joliel said immediately, "No, it's not a Possessed." Grinning broadly he said, "This is an indication that Nirith has done her work. She has done this of her own free will. She will gain in power and knowledge thereby." With a slight sarcastic bow: "As will our beneficent King Naxosos. Will you still follow?" Before Naxosos could speak, he said, "I think that may be why Merelioides waits for us somewhere between here and the town wall. To interfere with this may not be his intent."

"Are we to encounter this, whatever it is, then? I'm thinking this is something do do with your people. But – all right, when I saw the elthir-evo, its speech was pleasant and easy. I cannot imagine it making a noise like that. It was very sly and slick." Like you.

"Yes," Joliel agreed, "that's how they are."

He commented further: "And you – if it was something like you, it would not waste its breath crying. It would have escaped and killed everyone in the temple, and been out by now!" Here they both laughed briefly, which made Naxosos's heart leap a little bit.

But then the other spoke, resuming a businesslike tone: "It's only a little like me. If you decide to continue, you'll see. Do you want to follow? I cannot force you to go on, nor may I trick you."

"I –"

"You won't change into something like me – the Szera lies to you! It will not change you appreciably, although Thais will know, I'm sure. Nirith and Merelioides will know, certainly. Lumdi will know. The news will probably get out sooner or later, but that won't matter – it will be long over by then."

After a lengthy silence: "I suppose I am intrigued enough to keep going and I know that you are not trying to get me killed; however –"

"No, I'm definitely not," the other said.

"However, whatever this thing is, it's pretty upset."

Joliel interrupted his speech and said, "I will tell you this: The creature, we call it streghi, used to be a man a long time ago, perhaps a very long time ago. It is a man who was untimely changed in 'the bargain,' as the elthir calls it: He had, maybe, sought the elthir – some people do – in a quest for prolonged life, and to his everlasting misfortune, he found it. And you also know about that. He could have been a prisoner changed by a captive elthir or another streghi, or he could have been lying injured on a battlefield – there were streghi used in wars but long ago. Any road, it is illegal throughout the Empire to trade in these creatures, or to hunt them except for any reason than to kill them, and yet that is what the Governor – Ploighan, you have been told of him –"

"Yes." (By the sound, not only was the creature madly howling and screaming, it was battering and shaking something like a door, or a –)

"Ploighan bought the streghi from someone and it's being kept in the Temple Vranaps."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere." (It was in a heavy container of some sort, that tottered from the streghi's efforts to free itself.)

"I became aware of it shortly after we all arrived here. I have never been here before but the place has a reputation. The thing was to be transferred to a new owner, in Viragos probably, in Kheoran certainly, but this was delayed as Ploighan was afraid to attract attention. Because we were here! Now the weather is getting bad for sailing. He has to get rid of the creature soon or he will have to watch over it during the storms and cold."

"If he's doing something illegal, why doesn't someone, a local person, just tell on him? Then they'll get another governor and –"

"Oh, you are a fool!" the sorcerer griped. "Ploighan is corrupt and that's why he puts up with the Children of God being here in the first place! If he's replaced with someone honest –"

"I get what you're saying. All right: Never mind."

"Listen," Joliel said, his tone bordering on urgency, "Nirith compromised one of the magicians who is supposed to keep a watch over the streghi and administer drugs if needed. It's been kept drugged and under magical compulsion so as not to cause a disturbance for close to a year now; Nirith made sure, within the last few hours, that the streghi would not get its scheduled dose of sedative. She knew they were getting ready to crate it for transport and she convinced it, the creature, to pretend to be drugged until after it was secured into the crate, and then to start pitching a fit."

I suppose I shouldn't laugh, Naxosos considered, although he wanted to.

"So that's what we're listening to," Joliel said. "It's in the crate and it's going to make as much noise, and try to get out, as much as it can. It's not in very good condition; they have not fed it for months."

"It sounds pretty lively to me."

"Nirith has made friends with it and she fed it."

"I see."

"The idea was that, once crated, the creature would begin to scream and yell, like it's currently doing, and to try to get out; they will not be able to take it to the wharf and it will cause them great frustration. Nirith will then approach them – and one of them knowing he's in a world of trouble if someone finds he shirked his duty, so he's not going to say anything about knowing her – and she will claim to have an enchantment to pacify it until it is securely on the boat."

"That girl!" Naxosos laughed. "I was wondering what she was up to!"

"She's taking a terrible risk, but she said to me about a week ago, when the council decided we would begin the move-out; she said, 'I must free him, I will never forgive myself if I let this happen!'"

"But won't someone know who she is? I'm sure at least a few people in the town are familiar with the Second: not just her reputation, but her face and figure, her style of dress, the beads in her hair, and so on!"

"Nirith is skilled at changing her appearance; you know that, you have seen it. Anyway: She assures me the streghi is quite committed to escaping captivity – and it likes her, and it will cooperate with her: Come what may, it will not kill her. Saying also, however, be certain that if it were to escape without any knowledge of assistance being nearby, it would most likely – no, most certainly – go berserk and start killing its tormentors instead of trying to get away, and whoever might try to help it might be killed, and then the streghi would itself be killed." With a sigh: "So that is why we are here: If not for that factor, we could easily effect the streghi's release from a safe distance; Nirith would probably just do that, would have done it herself without delay, once she'd made certain of at least one of its keepers."

"I understand."

"I would rather gain the streghi's goodwill, if you see what I mean – if it simply gets loose and manages to get away from the soldiers and magicians guarding it, it may get as far as the camp and it would cause a problem, because it is starving and we have a number of small children now, do we not? And sheep and cattle. So I want to, as you would say, befriend the streghi, as Nirith has done, as I intend to do."

"You and Nirith will befriend it. Again, I have to ask: What do you need me for? Am I to offer it a place to sleep? A meal?"

The other looked at him for such a long time, gusts stirring his black robe and black hair, that Naxosos in a pique considered telling him just to go on alone.

Finally Joliel said, "So, listen, here is the entire thing: Assuming we arrive before the cart does, we'll hide somewhere near the loading dock. Without a doubt there will be an armed detail watching over the streghi so we will have to stay under cover. They were waiting for dark to put him on the ship but now he's causing a delay. If this works like it's supposed to, Nirith will offer her solution and the crate with its contents will be on the pier some time just past midnight. We will try to arrive and find a place of concealment before they get there and, as I'm sure you realize, we must remain under a ward of silence and shutter any sorcery, including Sight and Hearing."

"And…?" He's never talked this fast for this long that I can remember. That the other seemed to be trying to sell him something was both strangely exhilarating and yet dire.

"The streghi will pretend to be immobilized from Nirith's enchantment. We will wait until the ship starts to approach and then it will suddenly spring to life and start trying to break out of the crate again, and causing a fuss. This will be a severe impediment to the entire operation and the safety in particular of Ploighan Groettna, who could be – will most likely be – caught conducting an illegal operation with a capital result possible; he will lose a few of his employees, maybe, and the streghi may come after him and make him suffer before it kills him. The ship will probably start to head back out to sea rather than risk the streghi getting on board – they would not be part of the caper if they were not experienced. Yes, you'll see them leave the harbor at an amazing speed, I would wager – they will use the oars. Anyway, with this going on, Nirith and I will enact a spell of torsion to help the streghi break free from the crate."

"And what will I do?"

"You will allow it to drink from you." Quickly, Joliel added, "Ah, using the chalice, of course! The one I always use! You're a king and not just any king, but a king of the line of Arigne! A rarity over ages of time! After being with the Szera, and conversing with the Redoubt, you doubtless understand that part!"

At first Naxosos was stunned speechless and could do nothing but open his mouth, then close it again. Finally he said, angrily, "What about you? Isn't your blood any good?"

"Yes, I was planning on helping; Nirith has allowed it to drink. If one's blood is given without coercion or trickery, there is a lifelong, infrangible attachment. The streghi can be a most valuable ally – and you are very inept, you see: You really need all the help you can get!"

Naxosos started to speak but again the sorcerer interrupted: "That is how I became Garisha-vidov's master! You've met him! Is he not marvelous?!"

After a moment, when Naxosos didn't say anything, Joliel giggled and said, "The expression on your face! 'Well, I'm not going to get a kiss from him tonight, am I?' – that is what it's saying! You are indeed a very stupid person, Naxo! And so blind!" Leaning in closely, the other poked him in the chest with a long, spidery, white finger. "You'll consider this better, and remember it longer, than any kiss, I'll wager! And you will say so before the sun comes up!"

Sourly: "I'm not in a betting mood right now." After a pause: "And the night isn't getting any younger. Let's go."

With a childlike gasp of delight: "Are you indeed serious?"

"Let's just go!" Naxosos turned and took a step, but the other grasped his arm.

"Truly, I didn't expect you would do this! Nirith told me that she was almost sure you would refuse!"

"Let go of me!"

"I will kiss you, if you like!"

Shaking Joliel's hand away, Naxosos growled "Some other time! Let's go!"

This he will do, and ask me to do, but he will not pray with me – or even pretend to simply to gain my greater affection!

And: What is he afraid of? What in the name of everything holy does HE fear?!

And: If he has broken oaths to the Goddess, he is not afraid even of her…

And so they left the prominence and threaded their way carefully back through trees and bushes until they were on the path again, and continued on toward Jaraniesca town.

As they ran, Naxosos spent some time in wondering whether Joliel would ever reveal this thing that made him fear – for, he recalled, the other had not feared even to die merely so that Naxosos would have a chance to say goodbye to the maiden Raikha who he had loved (let's face it, he was crazy about her, too) and who had died untimely. Clearly, the archmage considered death a trifle: for Naxosos, the experience had temporarily robbed him of all courage, manliness, and reserve, and, for a short time, his senses.

I did die, though.

That you did.

On the other side of the valley, torches on the Temple Vranaps – easy enough to see with its white stone dome and pillars, though low enough to the ground that, if not for its lighting, might have been the lid to a cistern or well – flickered dully in the increasing gloom, set against a steep hillside shaggy and black with many trees.

Soon the sky would be almost completely dark, as the moon was about to set.

And who was there when you returned to life, to make sure you really had returned?

Nirith, the Second.

Now that Naxosos had heard the streghi's furious, hopeless cries, he could not stop hearing them.

Don't be afraid. I'm coming.

***

Before they had got to the first turning of their road, the streghi's lament seemed to stop. The sorcerer now ran at Naxosos's elbow, for the way had indeed grown slick with drizzly rain and the moon had set: a dull yellow glow was left, silhouetting the westernmost hills. The Temple of Vranaps was behind them and the town of Jaraniesca lay large, bright with lantern-light and smoky with torches, directly ahead.

They were required to run without magic Sight or Hearing, so the going was a bit slower, for Naxosos anyway.

They had passed a couple of small crofts lying close to the trail: one was seen to have a lantern shining from its open door. "Keep going," the sorcerer had hissed. Naxosos had run on, skin crawling, trying not to make any sort of sound.

The spoor of the fighter Merelioides (but not of his horse) was present all along their way, but he didn't see this one anywhere; he couldn't ask Joliel about it as they were keeping silence.

Naxosos was not sure what he would do if Red asked him to return to the camp: In mild desperation, he reviewed his last dozen or so interactions with the giant, which was anything but heartening as thereby it became all too plain that he owed Thais's brother a good many favors.

But…I'm the King!

At that instant the sorcerer plucked at his arm and made a gesture for them to stop. The road was quite broad here, with some ruts, obviously heavily traveled, and currently muddy enough that a carriage might become stuck; they had been running on the margin for half a mile.

No lighting or watch was set – he had been informed of a tacit agreement between the landholders in the area, on both sides of the river in fact, and the Celan governorship, that if they felt the roads needed to be patrolled, the landholders would supply the men. Probably why they chose this spot for us to camp, he reflected.

For some weeks now the Six had been watching over the paths on this side of the river, and the landowners and shepherds had shown their gratitude, in fact, by bringing the camp food and other supplies, and had even brought students to study with the priests to the point that a large tent for classes with an attendant smaller enclosure for sleeping had been pitched. (And in their turn, the richer students brought silver and gold, and the poor ones more food, tenting, building supplies, and sumptuously woven-and-dyed cloth, for which the district was famous.)

During their time here, Naxosos had been as far as the town wall, currently less than a mile from where they stood. This part of the district was scattered with fisher dwellings, the low, long buildings lightless, dead silent, abandoned in appearance, the closest one about fifty yards from the road. There was the odor of tenancy by fisher-folk (charcoal and smoke, shit-pits and dog-pens, fish guts and vegetable rot, and that smell of nets soaked in brine, slime, and blood, hanging to dry on a line) but no one was about, and no nets hanging out, likely because fishing was good despite impending turbulent weather: Everyone was at the shore.

Naxosos took this as an indicator of luck, in terms of what the sorcerer was planning.

But seeing all the structures downhill and ahead of them, a house-full settlement with a lighted gate, a wall, and guard-towers made his knees trembly in a way running six miles in the dark had not. It was still and quiet now, but within an hour or it would begin to stir: Bells would be rung and horns sounded, vendors would yell, animals would bellow; shops and kitchens would stoke their fires.

They are our friends!

Not all of them. Be glad you stood by your promise.

"Breathe!" the other hissed into his ear. "Catch your breath now!"

Naxosos took this advice and waited for Joliel to say something else, which he did after a few moments. The road and few trees around them were still, still and silent, though there was a constant noise of the rain that wasn't heavy enough to make its own sound except as it collected, dripping off the rocks and branches. The fisher-lodges lay in a haphazard jumble on mostly open, grassy hillside: Though it was from here a good long walk to the shore, there was in suitable weather an excellent view of the harbor and Channel beyond, and the river below – Kazikah, it was called by the locals, though on most maps it went by its Celan name, Aghlam-an – teemed with fish at almost every time of the year.

Joliel said, "Merelioides is here, he is watching us to see which turning of the road we will take. Don't look around! Don't talk! Listen!"

Miserably, Naxosos nodded. How will I ever be able to run back to my bed after this? Damn this asshole, this "druid" or whatever it is called! "Better than a kiss" – watching your just punishment will be better than anything!

The sorcerer went on: "We need to hustle if we are to arrive at the pier before the streghi and its guard! They're on the road now! We must run quickly and quietly – without any magic at all, without any sound! until we arrive, and we must conceal ourselves so that we have a good view of the proceedings! Nod to show me you understand!"

Naxosos nodded.

"I know the area so I can probably find us a good spot to hide when we get there, but if there's any sort of disturbance –"

Naxosos began to remonstrate, but the other squeezed his arm so tightly that all he could do was gasp.

"No! You will not pant, wheeze, cough, sneeze, groan, or say a fucking thing!"

A nod.

"If Merelioides appears, don't take any notice of him – I doubt he's going to talk to us, I think he intends to trail along behind; he is waiting for you, or me, or both of us, to do something wrong."

Naxosos sighed, and nodded.

"If Merelioides is with us, we don't need to worry that much, but of course you should be ready to defend yourself."

A nod.

"That is an excellent sign, but it also signals we'll probably face a foe!"

A nod.

"That goes for Nirith – if you recognize her by any token, do not show it in any way, unless you have the all-clear or I tell you to!"

A nod.

Now the sorcerer leaned in close and his grip on Naxosos's arm tightened painfully. "Ploighan engages in illegal activity, and he will doubtless go down for it, one way or another! Nod to show you understand!"

A nod.

"However, it doesn't matter how much of a criminal he is, because any of the local constabulary will kill us on sight, regardless! The streghi is currently Ploighan's property, the ship is contracted to him, the men guarding the streghi are hired by him, and we are stealing from them! Also, we will damage their cage. The pier may also take damage. That's all the sheriff and his deputies are going to care about, and they will shoot at us!"

Now Naxosos did speak up. "You assured me we would be relatively safe."

"I did not! I said I would look out for you! And you came this far voluntarily, I would even say eagerly! As though we were just going to a tavern or something! You cannot front with me, Naxosos! And when you saw the town walls you were scared! You are afraid of the town, just like you always are! I took this into consideration at the last instant. That's why we are going around Jaraniesca instead of through it! But we have to make haste."

Naxosos began to speak, but the sorcerer pinched him and went on in a hurried manner. "If you were going but to drive a cart to market on a nice day with an armed escort, and everyone in the town was breathless to see you with the ships all blowing their horns in the harbor, I would still remind you that you could get killed! Because that's how stupid you are, Naxo!"

"I understand what you're saying, Joliel. Let's go on."

There was a sense of wafting, a breeze and a scent, and a shadow, and Joliel released his arm so rapidly it was a shock (with an immediate stinging, needle-like return of sensation), and the warrior Merelioides was there blocking out what light there was; he was cloaked and he didn't rattle, but from his contours the giant was hauling quite a bit of gear including a shield. Joliel began to speak, but Merelioides grabbed his arm – in much the same manner as the sorcerer had been been gripping Naxosos's arm only a second before – and motioned.

Suddenly tractable and without another glance or word, the sorcerer sighed and made a little jump, animal-like, onto the warrior's back and settled himself like a cape made of black rags upon his shoulders.

Merelioides then turned an inscrutable look upon Naxosos, who couldn't think of anything to say. Finally the other said, in a normal speaking tone: "There is no danger if he goes back to the encampment – these lodges are empty and the road is empty and will be so until daybreak; he has plenty of time and knows the way."

"I –" Naxosos began but the other then said brusquely, "Follow, or don't!" whereupon he turned and strode with great speed down toward the crossroad and the town.

After a few seconds, Naxosos followed at a quick jog.

The warriors could walk faster than many people could run, and silently, if they wanted to: in spite of his size and the heaviness of his equipage, the giant man was nearly lost to hearing after he had gone only a few yards, and then at twenty yards – just a few strides for him – he was almost lost to sight as well, for he blended remarkably with the landscape. A man sitting up at night might see him passing, but at second glance (What the devil WAS that?!) he would already be dozens of yards along.

The fighters, he knew, disliked going into a settlement as much or perhaps even more than he did, but they were always ready for anything and could accomplish almost anything, in spite of their limitations.

However: Joliel was probably breaking an oath, and if he lived, he would be punished. Red was helping; Nirith also, if the sorcerer was to be believed. Why were they risking so much? Why had they drugged or enchanted the Goddess-on-Earth and part of the camp, if she wouldn't particularly mind?

He remembered the streghi's cries. Soon they would begin again – if they didn't hurry, they wouldn't be able to help Nirith, who was there by herself.

He ran.

***

The detour, through a mile or so of fishing- and trade-district west of the town wall, was perhaps as nerve-wracking as going through the town would have been – Naxosos found himself thinking repeatedly during the three-mile trek to the shore where, turning west, they would travel a bit further to an isolated, seemingly deserted cluster of wharves and warehouses.

At least he hadn't had to stop and talk to anyone – not yet, anyway.

It would be a long road back, however, after they had accomplished whatever it was they were going to accomplish. The camp would most probably be in an uproar. There would be people out looking for him, even into the town. That wouldn't be good. And, of course, the townspeople might see them.

If they got a chance to return. He didn't even want to think, not yet anyway, about what might happen if their business took longer than an hour.

If it worked out the way Joliel wanted for it to – he considered, remembering the last time – he might be useless for anything for some hours, maybe more than a day. At least Red was there.

It was in any case much too late to go back. If he knew anyone's heart, he knew Nirith's – she could not leave any creature in distress and could feel a wrong from leagues away (even as she performed the sacrifice, or took game, and splashed the blood around).

The shore district was not empty: Every other doorway or window on the unevenly-cobbled, wet, street was lighted, and here and there were sounds of people sitting up drinking, talking, dicing.

The houses were set on great pillars of wood with plank walls and thatched roofs and screenless windows, their heavy shutters fixed back; a were few of stone and a some of mortared blocks. No building was close to the water's edge and there were numerous walkways and cart-paths, some elaborately leveled and paved, that led from Jaraniesca's low cliffs to the edge of the bay.

Tonight the thoroughfares were blessedly without traffic; Naxosos was glad of this, but it made him wonder: Perhaps local citizenry – certainly not of the stripe who would quail at a little weather – were collectively able to sense the ill and, collectively, had decided that this was a night to be under a roof, in the company of others.

The run was mostly downhill and not tiring and the air cool, though the reek of smoke and other various odors intensified through the houses, pens, and shops.

He managed to keep the warrior in view: Merelioides, with the archmage clinging to his shoulders throughout, didn't keep to a straight path, but stayed where the road was most uneven and shadows deepest, making much better time than even a mounted rider would have.

The giant paused every so often to glance back and make sure of Naxosos before hurrying on. It was a trick to stay up with him without breaking into a dead run that, given the many puddles, would likely have alerted someone.

As they neared the shore, dogs emerged from beneath porches and out of dark alleyways to challenge them, some dashing into the road, barking and whining; the animals' threats seemed curiously half-hearted, however, and they were one and all uninterested in pursuit.

And here I run straight toward what not even a pack of dogs will approach!

Of course, the sorcerer was with them: Every animal avoided Joliel. Even friendly, tame animals among the herd would balk and hiss at him; the camel Derecho, familiar with the sorcerer over long years, still would bare its teeth; the war-horses would tolerate him being near – a little – but if they were at liberty to do as they pleased, they stayed away from him.

In any case, they were not pursued and there was no outcry; Naxosos ran, however, with every nerve jangling, hood held close about his face, expecting at each second to be hailed – or, even worse, for the streghi to begin its howling and crate-rattling again, this time nearby.

They had gone beyond the tenanted dwellings, now among warehouses. Darkness made it hard to keep Red in sight and his anxiety increased

A woman stepped out from between two warehouses and spoke his name in a low voice: So great was his shock, he stumbled and nearly fell.

He thought it at first to be Joliel disguised, then realized it was Nirith, substantially changed in appearance, and more: even her smell was different.

"Naxosos!" she repeated. "Sshh! Listen!"

"Where is Red?!"

"No, they're all right! Let them go on. Listen!"

Once he got a closer look at her, Naxosos was amazed: They were in the profound shadow of a gigantic, clearly empty stores-house; there was almost no light in the sky, and her form was cloaked, with only her face and hands visible, but before him stood a weathered, bent fisher woman with straight, gray-streaked black hair. Her features were small and so nondescript, with a pale oval for a face, lashless black eyes quite close together, hardly any eyebrows, smudge of a nose, and thin line for a mouth, that Naxosos marveled at the sight and wondered how he had known it was her.

"Thank you, Lord, for helping us!" Nirith said. With a giggle: "I lost money to the archmage tonight! He said he knew you would come! I thought you wouldn't dare leave the camp, finding so many people missing!"

The Second was now easily identifiable due to the customarily jolly, almost careless manner in which she confronted most situations, including extreme danger. All at once, he felt much more sure of himself and willing to go on. That Nirith would go out of her way, even at risk to her life, to help a luck-forsaken creature as this streghi was…well, of course: What else would she have done?

He wanted to ask her what had happened to Thais, and whether whatever it had been, a drug or a spell, had been similarly administered to him, but decided to leave the topic for another time.

"I should have stayed, in fact," he replied evenly, having regained some composure. "I'm regretting that more every second, my dear: believe me!"

"You can go back," she said now, lowering her voice; then preemptively: "No! Even now, if you turn and run for all you're worth, you'll make it back to the fisher-lodges before you are tired!"

At this Naxosos had to laugh.

"But I think you should stay in this spot until Rel- until Joliel, or Merelioides, gives the all-clear!" she went on.

"I can't see the pier! Isn't it still like a stadium off?"

"You shouldn't risk letting the streghi see you until you know it will not try to attack."

"Attack?!" Naxosos sputtered.

"Lower your voice!" the Second hissed.

"Joliel told me that if it gets loose it will kill everyone in sight!"

"Let me give you the information you need and stop interrupting, my dearest Lord!"

"Hurry, if you will."

"The streghi – his name is Yrinyi, and he is quite old, but he is very strong – means to break out of the crate one way or the other, with or without our help. We will be able to fend him off if he comes after us, and probably kill him, but we won't have to…ah, at least I won't have to, ah…fight him."

"I understand, my dear girl," Naxosos replied with a short laugh. "Do by all means continue!"

"But we do not want for anyone to have to fight and we do not expect it; we are simply planning for the worst. If there are dead bodies that will cause problems with the village, of course."

"Right."

"That is why Red is coming along, I think, in case there's a mess that needs cleaning."

At this, Naxosos chuckled.

"He, the streghi, is most likely to go after those who imprisoned and mistreated him – and I have made sure to a great degree that he will not injure me or any of my company. But he's not in a great state of mind – he has been driven to the brink of insanity."

"Yes, I heard his cries. Believe me, Nirith, I am going to do whatever I can to help – no worries there. This is a little out of my range of experience, though, I'll admit." (The more they talked, the better he felt. Too bad, he thought, they couldn't just abandon the project and make a leisurely time of it getting back to the camp!)

"Oh, Naxosos, you are so much braver than you will ever believe! And you have more experience than you think! But let me finish telling you: The streghi appreciates us and so far, so good, but there's a slight chance – there will be ten or more armed men on the scene, not including Red. In any case, we would rather him not see you right away. We would rather that no one see you!"

"I get it."

"They have not fed him."

"That is what Joliel told me."

"Even a rat or bird, he was not allowed to have!" Then, with a little wail: "The way he has been treated! But anyway. If we don't help him, or kill him, we risk having him in the camp – Joliel probably explained that. I have already let him drink and so he is much stronger than they think he is, but I wanted Joliel to help us so I asked him, for as you know –"

"We're moving out," Naxosos finished for her, repressing a shudder of distaste and fear.

"Don't worry!" Nirith answered brightly, "it won't be today!"

"How can Thais not know about this?"

"She does know! But not the entire thing!"

With a sigh: "Oh, goodness. So this governor, Governor –"

"Ploighan Groettna," she said.

"He's been sort of waiting for the refugees to clear out, then."

"Yes! But listen!"

He nodded for her to go on.

"Yes, he saw the road was clearing – and the storms are coming. He wanted to get rid of the streghi back in the summer, but there was too much traffic in the bay! Oh, but listen now, Lord: I was part of the company with the crate and I went ahead of them – a few minutes ago – to make sure the dock was clear and the ship awaited our arrival." This was followed by a saucy smile.

Smiling: "Of course you did!"

With an intense stare: "Oh, Naxosos, you are a great Lord!"

"I don't know about that, but it's nice to hear."

"So they are waiting for me," she went on, "to return and say that there is no one around, so they can port the container the rest of the way to the dock. There are five men dragging it on a cart, and five men watching! They could not get a team of oxen to go near it! I saw them try, and the animals started making noise before they were within fifty yards! It was funny! And they have crossbows."

"Those are slow," Naxosos commented.

"They are," the Second agreed, then continued: "And there are five magicians, three of whom are under the age of thirty and not very experienced! Now, we have to make sure there are no lawmen around, because –"

"Yes, I know that part. I'm actually more worried about them getting into our operation than the, than Yrinyi getting loose." (Her aspect, manner, and odors were so changed that even now that he was certain he knew her, he was still not certain exactly how.)

"Yes! But here is an important thing: Yrinyi means to escape, and if he gets out of the container on board the ship, he will be able to swim all the way back here – no matter how many leagues – and he will find his captors and kill them all, and the Governor, and as you know there are many Children of God who will be on the road then and there will be some of us in the town. He, the streghi, likely will not touch a one of these, but it will cause a persecution! And it could be weeks from now! And think: What if he were to escape once he gets to Kheoran? For that is where they mean to send him!"

"Ah!" Naxosos exclaimed, and pulled at his beard. (It wasn't purely the injustice of it all, then – it represented a possible long-term threat to the tribe.)

The woman nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Now you see!"

"Now you listen, Nirith: I appreciate your advice but to tell you the truth, I would rather try to keep up with Red. I will not feel the least bit secure standing in this gloomy, stinky, mouse-ridden place waiting to see what will happen!"

"I was afraid you would say that!"

"Ha! And yet however afraid you may be, my dear, believe that I'm at least ten times more afraid than you!" In spite of her appearance, he was inordinately compelled to chuck her under her chin, although he didn't.

"Listen, Naxo, this is very important: When you hear the streghi start to make noise – you have heard it, yes?"

"Yes."

"When he starts to make noise, things will go very quickly after that; you will have to be ready for Joliel to summon you; it seems the villagers will not want to come see what's going on, no matter how much noise there is, but one never knows."

"I understand." I'm going to kill him.

"I have to go!" she said.

"I would kiss you if I wasn't sure it would cause some sort of upset to our plans."

With a giggle: "Oh, Naxosos! But you're right. Anyway, wouldn't you rather kiss me when I look like myself again?"

"You are still you, no matter how you look, and I would kiss you, why not? I suppose you should go. I will creep closer until I can just see the pier, and I'll run if things get crazy."

"Don't take it lightly, Naxosos! Things could go very, very wrong! The Celan magicians are not play-actors, they are not little boys, although one of their apprentices is quite new to the job! Thank our God, who makes a way for us!"

"Indeed; praise God!"

She stared at him a moment longer, then without word or sound, vanished. (She was almost as good at that as Joliel.)

It hadn't been more than a week ago, Naxosos now considered and now remembered quite well, that Tolalo had asked him to sit for a discussion of the weaknesses of Celan sorcerers and descriptions of some of their usual tricks.

He now, finally, remembered to shutter all mind-speech and dampen his thoughts; he wasn't even mending nets anymore, but just proceeding in a direction without a single idea, nor any desire whatsoever, in his mind.

For a long count of thirty he waited, and continued on, slowly this time, and meanderingly, with a somewhat staggering gait, like a drunk who, having lost his way, now risks getting caught by the tide.

***

The first thing he could see from between the rows of long, empty stores-barns – besides more stores-barns, there must have been fifty of them in the immediate area, to all appearances empty – was the ash-colored water of Jaraniesca Bay under a sullen sky.

About a quarter of a mile out bobbed a lightless slave-galley at half-anchor and up-oars, sails down and no flag set. As Joliel had described, they were prepared for flight.

There were no other boats anywhere within a mile of this part of the shore but only a handful of ship-lights back in the direction of the town, and no craft underway that he could discern.

The bay was like the streets, virtually empty of traffic – and one did receive an impression that it wasn't usually this way. Looking as far to the west as he could manage with normal sight, he could just see the lighthouses at the far end of the bay.

Puffs of mist rode languorously upon the air and seemed to be increasing. Daybreak might bring a troublesome fog.

Empty warehouses, no boats, no sign of anyone around. A large ship with no stripe or flag. No watch set. No lights in the dead of a moonless night. Typical Celan jiggery-pokery!

Naxosos allowed random thoughts to pass through his mind: He couldn't zig and zag so much as to be noticed, nor walk in a straight, purposeful line, nor think except in little bursts – but this was, on the other hand, something he had learned from teachers and spent time practicing.

Viragos was full of Celans and their presence was quite strong, although their rule was not as complete as they wished. He had when a citizen there known of their potential for brutality but had never, until his last few years with the tribe, witnessed it: Even their galley-slaves that he had seen at the docks in his youth seemed well-kept and more or less pleased with their lot in life. (Chaeneth and Vlaitor's other two slave-women had recounted being raised in the Celan slave-pens, where they had always been treated with great gentleness and yet firmness, having never been chastised except for mild scoldings – though they had seen others beaten, who had broken dishes or rules.)

The image of Chaeneth was too much, causing emotions – he looked out into the bay and let the grayness, the silence, the weak sloshing sounds of the water subdue him and the nothingness absorb him.

He had seen the Celan governor over Viragos province a number of times – Darschas Hraeno, a little, fast-moving, fast-talking, brown-skinned man who had taken a Kheorani surname, and looked and behaved more like a wine-seller than a government official – but always at a distance.

If Nirith was their advance scout, there would be no problems. Merelioides was here, and Joliel.

Then, in a burst of despair: It's too late to go back, anyway! She knew that! She was just trying to excuse my weakness, as usual…

Other Celans he would see on the street or at the docks. Their guardsmen would every so often patrol the Aringene quarter, though it seemed only a token, to remind everyone of their presence – his mother had said it was so they could collect bribe-money. They had to his eye always seemed to have an easy command over themselves and their surroundings, though they were hardly popular. (He found that he somewhat liked the sight of them, in fact, now that he had seen more of them, as most were no taller than he, or only a bit taller. He had seen very few Celans tall enough to look Thais in the eye.)

Someone was walking beside him now. He knew not to turn his head, and he just kept going because it was the angel.

I'm really in trouble.

Yes, you are. But you won't have to leave your friends today.

A dark, small person, barely to his shoulder. The sorcerer Joliel was only a bit taller. He, the angel, was clothed in a fisher's hood and cape and ragged tunic, breeches showing tatters to the thigh, and barefoot.

(Don't look at him. Don't think about him.)

There had been a fellow in the neighborhood in Viragos, who, without notice, crier, or sign, made little pretense at being anything but a Celan tax-assessor, magistrate, or something like it. The man's office – that kept a lamp burning morning, noon, and night – was within view of the larger kitchen window of their apartment. He had seen the guy a few times, who had the appearance and manner of a middle-aged, weather-beaten, shaved-headed, scarred Celan veteran who still wore his colors but not his gear. As with all other suspected Celan tax-assessors, people tended to act like he wasn't there and he passed everywhere he went unremarked and alone. Naxosos had felt the man's eye upon him once or twice before he had left Viragos but had thought nothing about it; that he was a tax-man explained everything. At the time.

The last time he had seen the angel had been when he had decided to leave the Children of God in Aslel Aheyah. It had turned the pages in the guild-clerk's map-book to show him Waresh-Ghlia and whispered to him.

It was strange he would remember the Celan now; the first time he had seen him up close, he recalled, had been the first time he had tried to go to general prayers at the Temple – in which attempt his mother and her friends in town had been successful with their influence among the other ladies of the quarter, for the Gorardeno Nathaniel's visits to the home were so infrequent as to have aroused comment about whether Naxosos was really one of the Gorardeno's children. (His mother had explained to him multiple times, in great detail, before he had gone to the Temple, what he was supposed to say again and again if anyone were to ask; it had all been quite dizzying at the time and very confusing, since Naxosos had been to general prayers at the local chapel at least once a week for years without anyone remarking on it. That he had known of.)

The closer he walked to the water's edge, the less able he was to see the slave-ship. There was a soupy feeling to the sand and when he looked out into the bay, it had the appearance of a low hill, with the ship barely seen just beyond its crest: The tide was advancing.

He had never been familiar with any Celan, however, until having met Korsis Zarodi. ("Darschi," Korsis had said of Viragos's Governor Darschas, who he apparently knew and had roomed and partied with a couple of times, "is a great guy! He loves money! You can always trust a guy who loves money that much!")

Now he knew Korsis's father and older brother – they were honest, well-spoken men, but like all the other Celans with whom he had become familiar over the last few years, they were at the same time unpleasantly sophisticated and sly, and ruthlessly competitive to a degree that puzzled Naxosos, whenever he chanced to think on it.

He had probably, he now believed, been kept apart from the local politics of his home town, and from politics in general, because it would have attracted too much attention. As usual, the idea made him angry at first, though sadness and rue were as always right behind.

You're thinking aloud!

With random, quiet thoughts, therefore, he advanced another few feet to see listless wavelets breaking against a beach littered with boulders, some of them tremendous, gray open water beyond.

I can be seen! He felt that Joliel, at least, was seeing him, and probably Red, too. That was nothing and he was mending nets…

Not being able to use magic Sight required him to advance most slowly. There weren't just a lot of large rocks everywhere, there were a great many smaller ones, too, that could be nearly buried in sand and still turn one's ankle.

The night and surroundings were very dark; however, the water was a disconcerting, uniform pale gray that, by its contrast, improved visibility.

Without thinking (too much) he continued forward, holding his cloak carefully about him to keep it from flapping. The many large boulders were excellent cover.

In another twenty paces he wasn't between buildings and was able to view, downhill and about fifty yards west of him, a long piece of shore. This went on for perhaps a mile, then plunged into the inky shadow of the ridge to the west, where it was lost.

The pier, black, solid, fashioned of big square blocks set on square stone piles, rose a few feet above the rocky beach and extended into the bay a few dozen yards.

The tide was out; Naxosos could see that at a very high tide, this particular structure would scarcely be visible above incoming swell and might in fact pose a hazard to any craft trying to land unaware.

There were other reasons fishers would avoid this otherwise likely stretch of beach, such as the many great rocks strewn about that, now that he had a good view, looked like they may deliberately have been placed to prevent landings.

He was certain that Joliel and Red must be somewhere near: now that he knew Nirith was present, he was that much more certain that so far nothing had gone wrong.

Wet gusts blew through – the rain had let up, but everything was very drippy. The long, hollow buildings seemed about to collapse in upon themselves from damp, disuse, decay. The smell was bad, although he could, when the wind gusted, get the faintest whiff of the sorcerer Joliel somewhere ahead; he could not smell Red at all, but that was expected.

Silvery-gray mist crept from the Kazikah's broad and lazy delta: This lay on the other side of the ridge, but there was plenty of mist that had spent most of the evening hours making its way slowly down from the height, now to spread by slow degrees over the beach and water.

Would they be done with tonight's business and on their way back to the camp before the sun started to come up? Nirith had said it would be quick.

He heard the cart, and felt the soggy earth grumbling at the approach of something heavy, long minutes before he spotted it.

(end of excerpt)

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