He fell asleep with a nightmare already half-formed in his brain: Blood-red beetles pressed into his mouth. Razored pinchers clacking in anticipation, they scurried to the root of his tongue and set to work.

The next morning, Ganelon awoke feeling more rested than he had any right to expect. The rain hadn't been as bad as the clouds had threatened, and the insects had only bothered him a little, despite his nightmare. He lay there for a time, eyes closed, willing away the last vestiges of the night's unquiet dreams. Finally, he stretched his arms and cracked open one eye at the morning light. The bright glare made him hiss and clamp his eyes closed again. What was going on? The sun couldn't possibly be that bright through the canopy of branches overhead.

"Don't think of reaching for that stick, sleepy head," admonished a decidedly female voice. "It's already gone. Besides, it wouldn't have done you any good anyway. Not against this."

Ganelon felt the slightest of stings on the tip of his nose. He opened his eyes again and saw the cause: a dagger, its thin blade shining with reflected sunlight. The dagger shifted slightly and the reflected light flared, blinding Ganelon again. "Get up," the woman said. "Slowly," Ganelon propped himself on his elbows and, from this half-reclining position, was able to assess the situation. It could have been better.

After meeting Bratu the previous evening, Ganelon was only moderately surprised to discover Inza Kulchevich on the other end of that alarmingly sharp dagger. The striking, dark-haired Vistana had swapped her flowing skirt for leather leggings, and had tied her hair back with a scarlet ribbon. She also sported a heavy cloak, Ganelon noted enviously.

"All right," the girl continued imperiously, "your nap is over, giorgio. I've got some questions for you." As he looked up into the girl's green eyes, all Ganelon could think of was Bratu's wordless groans. Monsters, he thought, you and all your kind. He cast a disdainful eye over the half-dozen other Vistani arrayed behind Inza and said, "I don't have the answers you want."

Inza flicked the dagger toward Ganelon's left leg. The blade touched the brace so lightly that he didn't feel its impact. It scarred the metal nonetheless.

"Think of the damage such a weapon would do to your face," Inza said.

"Or tongue," Ganelon offered. The defeat in the man's voice made Inza smile. It was not a pleasant thing to see. "Then you do have some answers for me." She motioned to one of the other gypsies. "Bring him something to eat, and some clean water. Oh, and a cloak, too." She nodded to Ganelon. "Don't think I didn't recognize the envy in your eyes, giorgio. There isn't a Vistana alive who doesn't know what it's like to be cold when all around her are warm."

Inza waited until Ganelon had splashed some water on his face, wrapped himself in the brightly dyed woolen cloak, and sat down to a plate of bread and cheese before she spoke again. "It was Malocchio Aderre's men who cut out Bratu's tongue," she said, "though we were ready to do so, too. He was passing secrets to the Invidians."

"Why would the Invidians want his tongue cut if he was working with them?" Ganelon asked between mouthfuls of bread.

"He'd been found out. They were afraid he would reveal the names of their other agents in Sithicus," Inza replied casually. "So, tell me, how long did you travel together?"

"We didn't," Ganelon said. "We crossed paths in this very clearing. He went on, I stayed here."

Inza scowled. "I heard the men at Veidrava describe you as kind and compassionate, but they must be liars. You let an injured man wander off into the night without so much as offering to share your fire."

Ganelon overturned the now-empty wooden plate. "You said you were going to cut out his tongue if the Invidians hadn't beaten you to it. What do you care about him?"

"There is punishment and there is torture," Inza said. She impaled a millipede on the end of her dagger and watched it squirm. To be lost from the tribe is torture for poor Bratu. We would have kept him safe with us, even after justice was meted out."

Ganelon missed the grim looks exchanged by the other Vistani, who knew that Inza had proposed a far different fate for Bratu. Instead, the young man had his eyes fixed on the matted pine needles that had been his blanket. "It should be obvious that I had no fire to share with Bratu," he said. "I offered him help, but he couldn't hear me. Did the Invidians cut his ears off, too?"

"He harmed himself," Inza replied distractedly. "You haven't told me your cause for being here, giorgio. Maybe you're a spy, too." She gestured at the leg brace. "They only make those in Invidia. Your price for betraying your homeland, perhaps?"

"I'm looking for Helain," Ganelon said. "I should be going if I'm ever going to catch her."

Inza gave the man a knowing smirk. "Ah, the sick girl from the store. She finally heard him, eh? It was only a matter of time."

"Heard who?"

His look of puzzlement was too genuine for Inza to think him a liar. "The Whispering Beast," she said. "Just like Bratu, she answers the Beast's call."

Ganelon stood and brushed off the borrowed cloak. "Nonsense," he snapped. "The Beast only speaks to those who lie and cheat. Helain is nothing like that."

The coarse laughter of the Vistani men fanned Ganelon's anger. He turned on them. "What would any of you filthy wretches know of honesty?"

Inza wrapped a hand around Ganelon's wrist and eased him back to a seat beside her. "If we are all liars, giorgio, then you should pay all the more attention to what we say. Liars have to know the truth well enough to avoid it." She lifted the cloak back to his shoulders. "No one is saying that your Helain is like Bratu, you know. It might just be guilt that drove her to him. Sometimes that's enough."

"Guilt about what?"

She shrugged. "It only matters that you find her before she gets to the Beast. Once she's in his hands-" The Vistana mocked a shudder. "Horrible. And there will be no way to find her. His lair is hidden."

The words of the Bloody Cobbler came back to Ganelon then: "The place where she is heading is the first thing in the hills touched by the morning sun." That place, he realized with a terrible certainty, was the lair of the Whispering Beast.

Inza leaned close and lifted Ganelon's chin with one finger, positioning his face so that their gazes met. The young man could feel himself slipping into the green depths of her eyes. He realized distantly that those eyes were very much like the Fumewood. Both had a certain intolerant lushness to them. For all they seemed full of life, they were actually choked with death.

"Something brought you here," she said softly. "You couldn't have kept pace with her, not with the brace, not pausing to sleep at night. How do you know where to look?"

"I don't know. I'm following her trail." Inza gave a subtle signal. "I told you before that liars must be acquainted with the truth," she said. As a pair of callused hands clamped down on Ganelon from behind, the girl added, "We're also quite aware when we're being lied to."

The Vistana lifted Ganelon and locked him in a bear hug. The young man dug back with his elbows. Both connected, but the Vistana didn't flinch. The kick from Ganelon's braced leg drew a howl of pain, but his captor didn't release his hold. If anything, the blow made him squeeze harder.

Dagger in hand, Inza stood before Ganelon. "Who told you how to find the Beast's victims?" she shouted into his face. When he refused to reply, she rested the blade on his earlobe. "Who told you?"

The slightest twist of her wrist, and his earlobe dropped to the ground. When he'd stopped screaming and struggling, she placed the blade against his other ear. "We move to the eyes from here."