Chedd had been engaging in fake paddling for the better part of an hour and was glad of the distraction. "She's a beaut," he whispered with appreciation. "Look. On the island. You can see her nest."

Effie glanced at Waker's back, checking that this hushed conversation didn't offend him. He had to be able to hear it—they were only separated by a distance of seven feet—but perhaps because they were keeping their voices extra low he'd decided to tolerate it. The back of his head, decorated with the palely beautiful moonstone clasp, held steady and did not move.

"How do you know it's a she?" she whispered, gaze following the line of Chedd's pudgy finger to the eagle's nest.

Chedd shrugged. "Just do."

Effie shrugged back. The eagle had what looked to be a green pickerel in its hooked talons. The fish wriggled wildly as the eagle flew toward her nest. Once she was overland, she released her grip and let the fish plummet toward the beach.

Chedd turned his neck to look at Effie and they both executed a collected shoulder-scrunching wince at the moment the pickerel hit the rocks. "Eew," Chedd sighed with feeling.

"Double eew," Effie agreed, watching as the eagle swooped down to retrieve the smashed fish.

"Uh-oh. Trouble coming."

"Ssh," Effie hissed. In his excitement Chedd had forgotten to lower his voice. Waker had to have heard that, but a quick glance at the back of the Grayman's head told Effie nothing.

Color crept up Chedd's neck. "Sorry," he muttered. "I forgot."

Finally Effie understood what Chedd had meant by trouble coming. As she looked on, a pair of ravens broke through the trees and swept in toward the kill. The eagle saw them coming straight for her, plucked out a piece of the pickerel's belly, gobbled it down and sprang into flight. She was nearly twice the size of the ravens, but Effie guessed she was a smart bird who knew when she was outnumbered. The ravens, night— black creatures with oily wings, fell upon the fish carcass and started cawing and squawking and battling each other for the best pieces.

"What happened to females first?" Effie whispered, fascinated.

Chedd corrected her in a voice so low it took her a moment to understand him. "They're both female too."

"How do you know that?" she demanded.

Again Chedd shrugged. "Dunno. Just do."

Effie fell silent, thinking. She looked at the back of Chedd's chubby neck and then out toward the island and the ravens. Outt of habit she reached for her lore. The stone was wind-cooled and heavy. It told her nothing. Waker's father steered the boat toward the shore, taking advantage of the deepening channel. The shoreline was still heavily wooded, but the land was beginning to rise and rocky draws and undercuts lined the bank.

"Chedd," Effie said after a while, leaning forward so she could whisper in his ear. "How did you know about the ravens before they broke the trees?"

"Didn't know," he replied, defensive.

He was a bad liar and Effie wasn't about to let him get away with it. "You did know, because you said trouble was coming when there was nothing there."

Chedd shrugged expressively, his shoulders moving upward in three separate stages.

"Has anyone ever said anything bad about you?" Effie persisted. "Like you might be…" She lowered her voice to its absolute minimum. "Chanted."

Chedd nearly jumped off his seat. He shook his head so vigorously he rocked the boat. "No. No. No. I'm training for the hammer," he said, as if this automatically disqualified him from suspicion. He thought for a moment and then added, "My da's a hammerman too."

Effie frowned. She could tell by the set of his shoulders that Chedd had entered what Mog Willey called "the clamdown." Once someone had entered the clamdown the only thing to do was leave them alone. They would open up only in their own good time.

Light goldened as the sun moved to the west. The wind died and the chop left the water. Effie couldn't see anything but water and trees. Pines and hardwoods warred for space along the shore. Over time her legs had grown stiff and she raised them a little bit to get the blood pumping. The chains were wet and dripping; there was always an inch of water in the boat. As she watched the chains swing between her feet she thought of Chedd and Waker and Waker's father. Something was lying at the far edge of her memory and she was trying to make it roll toward her. Of course as soon as she tried it rolled the other way. Memories were tricky little animals to catch.

Feeling the boat pull strongly toward the right, she glanced over her shoulder at Waker's father. His face told her nothing, but she could see from his strokes that he was guiding the boat ashore. Wondering why they were stopping so early Effie scanned ahead. Smoke lines, three of them, rose above the tree canopy in the distance. Effie wondered what roundhouse or settlement they came from. A handful of tiny ancient clanholds lay along the river between Ganmiddich and Croser. The country was wild here, thickly forested and overrun with vines. It was known as "tree country" and Inigar Stoop always said it was nothing more than a hatchery for flies and a feeding ground for bears. Effie took it to mean he disapproved of the wild clans that lived here.

When she saw Waker set down his paddle and draw out the pole from its place in thie hull of the boat, Effie realized they weren't going ashore after all. They were going to pole up a creek.

Even though she looked really hard she couldn't spot the tributary until they were right on top of it. She could feel its waters, pushing against the stern of the boat, even perceive the cross eddies swirling where the two channels met, yet could see nothing but choked-up willow and sumac ahead. Anyone looking on would have thought Waker and his father were about to pole right onto the shore. But no, at the last instant Effie spied a telling shadow beneath the trees. Crouching low and tucking their heads against their chests to avoid being hit by branches, Waker and his father steered the boat through the canopy and into the creek.

A pretty nifty move, Effie thought, slapping at a willow twig that was aiming right for her eye.

The creek was narrow and winding, a line of brown water leading through the trees. Waker's breath came harder as he poled against the quick-moving current. Effie kept herself still. The boat was rolling from side to side and she didn't like it one bit.

Girlie, girlie, girlie, girlie. Wonder why it wasn't early? For some reason Waker's father's stupid rhyme kept playing in her head.

They headed upstream until the light failed, and then Waker's father guided the boat to a narrow pebble beach surrounded by black oak and hemlock. It was nearly dark by the time Effie stepped into the water. Her legs were a bit numb so she didn't feel the cold much. The memory was back again, playing hide-and-seek in her head.

"Girl, gather sticks for the fire." Waker held the boat for his father to alight and then began to unpack the load.

Effie's feet were still in the water. The bottom of her dress was wet. She was shivering and all she wanted to do was wrap herself up in a blanket and sleep. "I have a name, you know," she said to Waker. "It's Effie Sevrance. And that over there is Chedd Limehouse."

Chedd, hearing his name mentioned, looked up from his task of laying bedrolls, saw Effie facing off against Waker Stone and decided to make himself disappear. "Off for a piss," he said to no one in particular, darting into the trees.

Waker had been in the process of unloading the waxed sack containing the food. Gaze staying on Effie he walked to the shore and deposited the sack on the beach. It landed with a crunch. "Your name won't mean nothing where you're going. So drop your proud little fan-cies and build the fire."

Effie felt heat rise to her cheeks. Waker's father passed her in the water, his malignant ferret face twitching. Effie waited for him to walk up the beach before addressing his son. "Are you selling us to the mine lords of Trance Vor?" There. She'd spit it out.