"Ah yes, you have taken young Osha as your student. I was surprised, but you often see promise and potential where others do not. How goes his training?"

He has faced harsh times but remains unwavering in duty and purpose. What he lacks in aptitude, he counters with devotion. I believe, in the end, he may find a place of value among us.

Sgailsheilleache sounded glad to speak of caste matters and the everyday trials of tutelage. It reassured Most Aged Father that he had taken the correct approach.

Sgailsheilleache was fiercely loyal to the caste, but between Brot'an'duive and that half-dead human woman, he followed a misguided path. Someone else needed to step in and relieve him of his burden.

"I am pleased to hear you fare well, my son," Most Aged Father said warmly. "And what is your current location?"

Our location?

"To gauge the days until you reach Bela… and if possible, dispatch a military vessel to meet you."

That would be most welcome, Father. We are southwest of the mountains below Droevinka… at the inland end of what the humans call the Everfen.

"In the swamplands? That will not be pleasant going. How far in?"

Barely a morning's travel due west. We were fortunate to find an empty dwelling and will pass this one night in better comfort.

Most Aged Father could not extend his awareness beyond his people's forest. But he could feel a sense of place when one of his caste spoke to him through word-wood. In touching such to a living tree, the speaker's voice was altered subtly by what the word-wood pressed against.

"And you call me from a willow tree?" he said. "In the middle of that swamp? Ah, a hardy tree it is."

He played this little game with a few of his oldest or dearest children- to see if Most Aged Father could name the caller's tree.

Yes, Father, you rarely miss. Another pause followed. It is so good to speak with you again.

"And with you, my son."

I will contact you again when we reach Bela.

"I look forward to your return… and will do what I can to hasten it."

In silence and in shadows, Father.

The connection faded.

Most Aged Father had put Sgailsheilleache's troubled mind at ease, and this situation would soon be over. He clicked his fingers against his bower, waiting a long time, until another voice threaded through the oak's wood.

Father, I fear that I have little-

"Wait, Hkuan'duv… and listen carefully."

The next morning, Leesil had barely stepped outside to stretch when Sgaile called from around the shack's rear.

"Leshil… Magiere… come!"

Magiere emerged behind Leesil, rubbing her eyes. "What's he yelling about?"

Leesil shrugged and walked off around the dwelling with Magiere on his heels. When he saw Sgaile holding up the edge of a tarp, he stopped. Magiere nearly stumbled over him.

Sgaile crouched beside a narrow longboat pulled up the knoll. It looked sound and in good shape.

"This must be how the old man gained his supplies," Sgaile said, far more cheerful than he'd been in days, "which means there is a settlement somewhere within reach."

Leesil glanced at Magiere.

She raised one eyebrow. "He's in a rare mood."

When Sgaile had returned from his short evening scout the night before, his demeanor had altered drastically. He'd checked on the orb, nosed in on Wynn's cooking, and Leesil could have sworn the dour elf almost smiled at the aroma rising from the blackened iron pot.

But in any case, the boat was a welcome sight. Leesil trotted forward to inspect it.

"Well, a settlement might not be so good," he replied. "Not if Droevinka is turned upside down in a civil war."

"True enough," Sgaile agreed. "But it is an opportunity to renew our supplies… and make the rest of the journey more tolerable."

Leesil looked up at him. "Did you find a flask of rum you didn't bother to share?"

"A flask of what?"

"Never mind."

Magiere stood with folded arms, quietly looking over the boat.

Leesil knew her feelings were mixed. She was desperate to reach Miiska but not eager to pass through her old homeland during a civil war-and neither was he, for that matter.

Wynn and Osha came around the side of the shack, erupting in excited chatter at the sight of the longboat. Chap came last, tail in the air. Magiere just rolled her eyes at them. She gazed around the marshes and cattails, moss-laden trees and murky green waters. Frogs croaked and enormous dragonflies sailed past.

"Never thought I'd miss this country," she said, "but after so long in those mountains…"

"Oh, we must be mad!" Leesil returned with exaggerated drama.

Magiere half smiled at him as she headed back inside.

They had all passed a pleasant night, and what remained of dinner, from flatbread and honey to chickpeas and smoked-cured beef, was still welcome for breakfast. As they began gathering their gear, Magiere retrieved the orb herself.

Soon, everyone had coats or cloaks with weapons strapped on. All their belongings were piled at the knoll's edge as Leesil helped Sgaile slide the longboat into the murky water.

"Store goods both ends-better balance," Osha suggested.

"I forgot the rest of the flatbread," Wynn said and ran for the shack. "I will be right back."

Sgaile spun the boat slowly, pulling its side in against the knoll. Leesil grabbed the pack Osha held out and tucked it in the bow.

"Magiere…?" Wynn called out.

Leesil looked up.

The little sage stood at the shack's corner just beyond the half-collapsed chicken coop, and then she backed up without turning.

"Sgaile!" Wynn shouted.

Chap bolted toward her as Leesil took off past Magiere. He grabbed Wynn, a freed stiletto already hidden in his hand, and pulled her back. Magiere raced around him to the shack's front, hand on her falchion's hilt. Leesil saw the source of Wynn's warning as Sgaile came into the open.

A man and a woman approached through the shallow water at the knoll's north side. Leesil went rigid at the sight of their gray-green attire.

Anmaglahk.

Both weatherworn, the woman held a shortbow drawn with an arrow nocked. But Leesil focused on the man.

Cowl down, his hair was almost white and cut short, standing up in unwashed bristles. His amber eyes were flat and emotionless, and even trudging out of shin-deep water, his steps barely left ripples. He didn't look down once, as if he'd never missed a step in his life. His gray-green cloak was tied up, and he held no weapon.

"Sgaile?" Leesil said, tearing his gaze away to glance at his companion.

Sgaile remained silent as the newcomers crested the knoll, stopping ten paces off. Then he nodded once to the older male.

"Greimasg'ah."

"I have a purpose from Most Aged Father," the man said in perfect Belaskian, and his tone was as emotionless as his gaze. "You will turn both the artifact and the dark-haired human over to me."

Magiere ripped the falchion from its sheath, as the female anmaglahk turned the bow on her.

Hkuan'duv had not seen these humans this close. It was unsettling.

He did not blink when Magiere pulled her weapon.

Somehow, her black hair with the strange red glints, her white face and dark eyes, made him feel tainted. The proximity of the shabby half-blood, the deviant majay-hi, and even the small woman in rolled-up pants did not affect him the same way.

This half-dead thing with the defiant face and unnatural color sparked revulsion.

Most Aged Father had warned Hkuan'duv about her, ordered him to eliminate her.

In spite of his discomfort at her close proximity, he was relieved to finally reveal himself to Sgailsheilleache and Osha, no longer skulking behind them. He had openly given his purpose, and it superseded all others. This entire matter was over.