Though the city sprawled over a large rocky area in both directions beyond sight, it was far from an actual nation or even a city-state, more like a chaotic growth of trade operations and other businesses with residents needed to support them. Langinied had spawned long ago from the needs of whatever ships came up the coast from the Suman Empire before making the difficult run across to what the sages called the Farlands. Added to this, some caravans braved what he learned were called the Broken Lands. A wild, uncivilized territory spanned the continent from this eastern coast to nearly the edge of the Numan Lands on the western side.

Chane stayed in Langinied, watching the ship as much as he could, until it left port on the fifth dusk. He never saw the dog again. Without its lead he was left adrift, once more questioning his actions. He had sworn to Wynn that he would never reenter her life—but he eventually set out for Calm Seatt on his own.

The journey across land made the sea voyage seem short.

Little along the way came to bother an undead. At times he lingered in places past dusk, trying to decipher more of Welstiel's writings. Or he paged through the varied texts taken from the healer-monks' monastery. Every ink mark made with quill, no matter what it said, reminded him of Wynn… sitting in a room by the light of her cold lamp, perhaps doing likewise with the ancient texts she had recovered.

Chane hunted wildlife along the way to sustain himself, though it fed him poorly compared to longer-lived humans. Among wolves, wild dogs, bears, and a ranging mountain lion, which he gave a wide berth, only once did he ever see anything on two legs.

It was neither human nor elf.

He emerged early one night from the tarp used to protect himself from the sun, and felt something watching him.

Wynn didn't blame herself, but she knew she had to be part of the reason he'd traveled here. Even after all this time, she found her feelings toward him were conflicted. She just stood breathing for a few moments, rereading his brief note.

Of course she would go—if only to find out why he had come all this way and broken his promise to leave her alone. And she had to know of his involvement in the deaths and thefts, and what he'd been doing in Master a'Seatt's scriptorium, holding that folio.

Wynn looked up as two apprentices walked out the main doors and headed across to the southside barracks, where her own room was located. She couldn't get out the front gate, and she still needed a few things before she faced Chane.

She waited long enough for the pair to reach their own quarters, then hurried inside and upstairs. Reaching her room, she closed the door and leaned against it. Reading the note again, she remembered the first time Chane had come to the guild in Bela—the handsome young scholar. And then the night he'd appeared in Apudâlsat's dank forest, and she watched in horror as Magiere cleaved his head from his neck. And last, atop the Pock Peaks inside Li'kän's library, his features taut and rigid as he promised…

I will not follow you anymore. You will not see me again.

Those words had brought pain—and relief. His reappearance rekindled both.

Wynn took the crystal from her cold lamp and pocketed it before opening her small trunk to retrieve a warm cloak. Climbing to her feet, she spotted something else.

The staff leaned in a corner, the sun crystal atop it covered in the protective leather sheath.

Under Domin il'Sänke's tutelage, she had tried to ignite it only once. The best she got from it was a soft glimmer, and that had cost her. When it winked out, she felt as if she'd been hauling some heavy burden for ten leagues without water. And the next day she had been so tired that she could barely get up to eat.

Magic, even artificed permanently into an object, was no wonder to idly enact with quaint words and a flourish of fancy gestures. It was dangerous, taxing, and costly. She knew as much from the plague of her mantic sight. But still, even a glimmer of light with the nature of the sun might be enough if Chane could no longer be trusted.

She stared at the staff for a long moment of indecision, then grabbed it and headed out. In the outer passage she paused in frustration.

How could she get out of the keep, let alone unseen? There was only one possibility, and it was risky. Sighing, she headed for the stairs and out to the courtyard.

She tried to keep the staff close, wrapping the folds of her cloak around it, and hoped she didn't run into il'Sänke. He always seemed to know too much about what she was thinking. When she entered the main building, she took the long way around to avoid passing near the common hall. She reached the keep's back at another entrance into the library and peered carefully around the archway's side.

No one was in sight among the nearest tables or tall bookcases, but that might not hold once the evening meal ended. She hurried for the central stairs up to the top floor.

She'd spent little time in this building since her return. It was well organized and a welcome place for study and research. But it didn't hold the wealth of knowledge to be found in the archives. Generations of sages would enjoy the wide library's open design, with windows allowing in natural light during the day, so unlike the excavated catacombs below the guild. Premin Sykion constantly sought to improve it.

Long rows of oak shelves, attached stoutly to the ceiling, stretched out before Wynn. Specially designed cold lamps were mounted in the stone walls on small iron bases shaped like the bottoms of oil lanterns. Within those bases, t kthold he guild metaologers replenished treated fluids that generated a low heat. This fed the lamps' crystals, so there would always be light here.

Wynn heard soft voices several shelves off and headed quickly to the library's back wall. She reached the nearest window and peered out the finest panes the dwarves could make.

The new library was constructed behind the main keep at the back of the inner bailey. It filled the space all the way to the bailey wall. Wynn could see that the drop down to the wall's top would be easy, but the rest of her plan might prove more difficult.

She tucked the staff under one arm and propped the window open as quietly as she could. Climbing upon the sill, she clung to the window's frame for an instant before she hopped outward. Her knees buckled as she dropped atop the bailey wall's walkway; it was a little farther down than it looked. With one backward glance, she hurried along the old battlements.

Wynn rounded the eastern tower and headed onward, taking the chipped and faded stone steps below the southern tower into the orchard of barelimbed maple trees. She crept through the barren gardens toward the bailey gate before the gatehouse tunnel.

In getting this far, she'd successfully bypassed the closed outer portcullis. All that remained was to open the bailey gate. None of her peers or superiors would be outside, so she should be able to slip away without being seen. Slowly she crept to the edge of the nearest barbican framing the gate and peered out.

"Ah, no," she whispered.

Two of the Shyldfälches stood just outside the portcullis. She hadn't heard of Rodian placing guards to watch over the guild, and she backed into hiding. Chane was waiting, but she had no idea how to get out unseen. Ghassan il'Sänke stepped to the library's window and watched as Wynn sped off along the wall. His grip tightened on the sill when he saw the staff in her hand. He shook his head and waited until she rounded the wall's turn beyond the eastern tower.