Part 3

Foreigners and Strangers

           My watch says that it's the first of November, but I'm seeing the first slips of summer peaking through spring. Odd to think that somewhere out there they'll be celebrating Christmas soon. I found a pen and a small pad of paper in my pack; I just finished writing down all the diary journals I made myself memorize the last few weeks, so I can rest easy knowing that these words won't be forgotten. You'll excuse me if I've deviated from my usual detached, theoretically-minded style - it's that hierarchy of needs. Now I'm just trying to survive. I've been pushing science forward every day for the last ten years, though, and I'm not about to stop just because I've been stranded from my colleagues.
           To that end, there has been something unusual that I've noticed lately; Iluin's behavior. Perhaps she's insane, or an inaccurate representation of her people, but she behaves like no human would. In the last few days she's 'locked onto' me; she has literally not allowed me out of her sight, she keeps in tactile contact, and yesterday, in the tent, she insisted on lying beside me. It's almost as though physical nearness and contact serves to alleviate her concerns about me, perhaps even to 'bond' me to her. I suggest that this is so because I've noticed that she becomes more protective of me when she senses danger. Now, this is hardly without precedent among humans - just look at any hormonally-charged teenage couple - but in Iluin the reaction seems as important a part of her psyche as fight-or-flight or even self-preservation is in mine. This is stark contrast to the comparative behaviors of the lower-level fauna here; the flying lizard-things act like birds, the insects act like insects, and the fish act like fish. I suppose Darwin and Brinks would say that systems tend to diverge as they evolve. On the other hand, Iluin and I have proven similar enough not to kill each other thus far. That says something, doesn't it?
           -Dr. Rachel Mitchell, diary excerpt from 11/1/2182
          
           She shuffled the little scraps of paper together, sorting by date, until she was sure she'd written down every diary entry made since the mission's beginning. Every last piece of packaging had scrawling over it, but they were down. She stuffed them into one of the stronger nylon packages and put that into her pants' largest pocket, where it'd be safe. Those were not to be lost. If nothing else, Rachel demanded that she not be forgotten on this world.
           Inside her survival pack were other trivial things that she and Iluin had gone through the previous night. They had split everything: Rachel had a new pocket knife, Iluin a new hunting one. Rachel had a new data pad, solar collector, and medical kit, Iluin had a new set of cooking supplies. Rachel had a non-functional radio-GPS unit, a pocket poncho, and a metal canteen… Iluin had a pair of binoculars, one she absolutely marveled at. "Long eyes," she'd said.
           Most of the pack's bulk had been freeze-dried food and condensed water packets, but there were two metal cases that took a lot of space too, two cases that she hadn't let Iluin touch. They had warnings for live ammunition on them. No, she'd kept those, and now she picked them up and crawled out of their tent, past the tarp and into the open air.
           "Nadesht'tat, Rahkl," Iluin purred. She was sitting on a rock, tending to a morning fire. The tiny lighter lay at her feet - it was Iluin's prize. She had treasured the instant fire since Rachel had shown it to her. With all the time it took to start a blaze using flint, she wasn't really that surprised. Rachel felt generous, so she sat beside her feline and brushed a cheek on her shoulder. A sly thought occurred to her as she saw Iluin relax in content.
           "So you finally decided you could trust me enough not to keep watch over me, huh? I appreciate that." Iluin said nothing and Rachel looked across the fire to gaze at the tent. She could see the outlines of everything inside. "Dammit. Never mind. Well, we'll work on your protectiveness." There was a hiss and a spit from the fire; Iluin took a stick and stabbed deep inside it. The woman picked one of her ceramic saucers off of the ground, then lifted a hunk of white meat out of the fire with her stick and laid it out on the clay dish.
           "Jhesa," Iluin said, pointing at it. "Good, Rahkl." Rachel smiled and took it. It was new; Iluin had never caught a 'jhesa' before. Normally the meat had been brownish-pink, but white? She didn't remember anything back home that was naturally white except fish, and there was no water nearby. It was as good a time as any to test her filter strips.
           The package advertised that they'd turn colors if you smeared something potentially dangerous on them. Supposedly she'd get anything from aqua to black, depending on how deadly it was. She pulled a strip from her breast pocket and ran it against the meat's brazed surface, then flapped the strip back and forth in the air as the instructions said to. At that point Iluin was just staring at her. "What do, Rahkl?"
           "Trying to make sure you're not poisoning me," she murmured, intent on the strip. It went from white to light blue, then to darker blue, then to purple. She kept waving it through the air, and a few seconds later it was black. "Huh. Lucky me." She switched to alien. "Hai, Iluin. This Jhesa. Jhesa not… Uh, this not… not…" Damn. The language barrier had caught up to them again. "What not-jhesa?" Iluin dipped an ear.
           "Yaro hiisa jhesa?" Rachel did her best to look ignorant. "Not-jhesa?" Iluin simplified, and pulled a small cloth package from her pocket. When she unfolded it Rachel saw some scraps of the usual meat inside. "This?"
           "Yes." Iluin purred.
           "Geri. Good?"
           "Yes, good." Rachel waved a hand at the jhesa, then pointed to the black strip. "This jhesa - dangerous. I not… not…" she mimed shoving food into her mouth.
           "Not [eat?]?" Iluin offered. "I hasurhe khamhe nos. Dangerous?" She pulled a little piece of Rachel's jhesa away, then ate it, looking at her with a skeptical expression the entire time. "Dangerous?"
           "Well, maybe not to you, kitty," Rachel grumbled. Out of curiosity she took one of Iluin's pieces of the geri-meat and rubbed a different filter strip on it. It turned blue, but not black. Were the strips defective? Was the toxin slow-acting? Rachel very much hoped for the former; her situation became hopeless if all the food was poisonous. Maybe it decomposed naturally? She spat on the blue strip, then sat and watched it.
           "What do?" Iluin asked, but for the moment Rachel ignored her. Was it getting better? She wondered; she thought the blue was fading, but it was imperceptibly slow. Frustrated, Rachel shook the strip furiously, then stared at it. It'd turned a pale aqua.
           "Haa," she uttered, less joyful and more surprised. "So I break it down naturally. Which is why I'm not dead yet? Huh." Now Iluin was staring at her, ears half-back and eyes careful. "Don't worry Iluin, I'm not crazy. If I had a decent chemistry lab I could figure out what this toxin is, but until then I suppose I'd better chew carefully. God, if it's something in the saliva then I don't dare inhale this stuff." She sighed, ripped a piece of meat off for herself, then put it her mouth and started to chew. It was terribly alkaline and numbed her mouth a little bit, but the jhesa wasn't so bad; it tasted like goose or duck.
           "Safe?" Iluin asked, now thoroughly confused.
           "Safe," she replied. "Sorry, Iluin." The poor cat didn't understand in the slightest. It was probably just as well.
           She knew what to expect when she opened the smaller box - there weren't many things you could fit inside a football-sized container that used ammunition. It was a hefty thing, a solid, secure lump of metal that empowered with its presence. As a physicist handguns weren't her specialty, but she had an idea about how they might work. More than an idea, actually; they taught you shooting for a few days in college phys-ed, and she'd once managed to get past almost two weeks of basic training when she'd made a failed attempt at reaching NASA through the military. Rachel didn't see any sense in killing oneself out of ignorance, though, and there was an instruction manual attached to the bottom of the lid. She pried it out and began reading.
           It was mostly basic stuff in the manual: take the safety off first, then seat the clip with the little colored band on the bottom, pull back the hammer, and be especially careful to check for bronze in the chamber before you start firing. That much she knew. She was looking for the specifications, because it was no good to stand half a kilometer away and fire if the pistol had a range of two hundred meters. They were printed on the back. She'd come into the possession of a army Anblam-32 pistol, which the manual claimed could hit accurately for up to two hundred and fifty feet, could pierce three quarters of an inch of steel, and could hold thirty-two rounds to a clip. She checked the box and found five clips under a false bottom; one free and four in a belt pack. There was also a leather holster with a loop for a belt. Rachel took the free clip and turned it over in her hand, staring at the glint the black metal had in the sun.
           Her mouth had ceased to numb; she took it as a sign and swallowed. "You have any water, Iluin?" she asked morosely, having been put ill at ease by the gun and the poison. The cat nodded and turned around. Rachel heard water pouring, and then was offered a tin silver cup with green-amber liquid. She put down the pistol, then took the cup and sniffed it. It smelled like tea. She sipped at it cautiously and smiled. It was. She took a moment away from her pistol to enjoy the aroma, breathing in all the delicate scents that wafted up from the cup and into the morning air.
           "Good?" Iluin asked. "You hasidarai namio kas?" Rachel nodded.
           "I like it." And in Iluin's language: "Thank you."
           "You [welcome?]," Iluin said, waving a dismissive paw at her. Rachel nodded and set down the tea to pick up the handgun. She solemnly pulled the safety back, then slid in the clip until it locked into place with an audible click. The pistol was balanced then, the solid weight of life and death in her hand. Rachel stared at it for a moment, then replaced the safety, holstered the pistol, and secured both the holster and the ammo belt at her hip.
           At a metal howl from beside her Rachel threw herself forward, turning on her back and pushing away with panic.
           Iluin looked down from her spot on the rock with a bemused expression. As Rachel caught her breath the cat woman drew the rest of her sword, a ghastly person-sized affair. It wailed like a banshee as the flat of the blade drew against the metal of the scabbard. Iluin smiled, relishing in the nails-on-chalkboard screech, and began passing it through the flame. At the wild expression in Rachel's eyes she simply chuffed.
           "Not funny," Rachel said, her heart rate only having begun to slow. She sat up cross-legged and went at the larger box. The moment she had that lid off she whistled softly. "God, they included a puzzle to pass the time." There was another manual, this one with three dozen pages of pictures and text, but the gun in the larger crate… well, it required some assembly. There was something like thirty parts crammed into the container along with the eight clips of ammunition, and damned if any of it came with labels. "Sloppy army documentation," she groused, flipping through the manual. "Do I have to piece this together myself?"
           Apparently that was what the Powers That Be had had in mind, because fifteen minutes later she was fitting a scope into the top groove of an otherwise completed R3-CIV rifle. It snapped into place and she rested the finished product on her lap, admiring her work. It was odd how little guns had changed in the last two and half centuries - really, she thought, the last breakthroughs had been in the world wars. All that rifles had gotten over the years since was higher-powered and longer-ranged.
           Her rifle's manual was more a complete combat guide, but Rachel had no intention of becoming a warrior. Guns were guns; she read about the peripherals she'd never used, like the scope and the silencer, then tossed it back into the box. The manual had said that the weapon was government civilian-issue, but with a one-and-a-half kilometer range, a single/semi-automatic/automatic fire selector, and nearly five hundred rounds per clip, it definitely went under the heading of excessive. Rachel laughed to herself quietly, imagining a pack of gun-toting, soldier-of-fortune backwaters with army fatigues and Cuban cigars sitting around a conference table at NASA, planning to fill the survival packs with plastic explosives and nerve gas. What good was an assault rifle if you landed in the desert, or in the jungle? Was she supposed to hunt with it? But she was grateful to whoever had packed it; it would no doubt save her life if the locals turned hostile.
           Iluin reached out at her and gave her a tap on the shoulder. "Hello, Iluin. No," she said soothingly, "I don't want more tea. It's wonderful, though." But Iluin kept her paw on Rachel, then leaned over to take the rifle. "No!" Rachel insisted, snatching it away. When Iluin pursued, ears back, Rachel pushed her back. "Don't do that. Dangerous. Not safe, Iluin." When Iluin tried again she frowned, then had a thought. As her companion moved to inspect the gun once more, Rachel ducked under her chest and grabbed the hilt of Iluin's sword.
           "No! No te you khama, eishta koriamai geighas!" Iluin hissed, backhanding Rachel across the cheek. Blood and dirt mixed in her mouth as she came up spitting, and then her companion was clutching at her face. Rachel struggled, but there was no malice in Iluin's grip. "Sorry - I'm sorry. Rahkl?" Rachel put her hands on the woman's wrists, letting the rifle fall, and disentangled herself from her feline companion's knot-like grip. "Sorry. I friend, Rahkl."
           "It's alright," Rachel managed in English, then shut her eyes in pain. She's bitten her tongue. When she opened her eyes again she pointed at Iluin's sword. "Dangerous?" Iluin nodded vehemently.
           "This gha lleiri. Lleiri very dangerous. Dangerous, Rahkl. Safe, Iluin."
           "Thought so." She pointed at the gun. "This gha rifle. Rifle very dangerous."
           "Rahkl?"
           "No, rifle." Iluin frowned.
           "Raffl?"
           "Rifle," Rachel insisted. Iluin waved it off, unimpressed. "Here. I'll show you, then." She picked up a clip, shoved it into the slot, and waited the moment it took to auto-load. Then she pulled the safety off, raised the rifle to her shoulder, and aimed at a tree past their sleepy mount. She zoomed in with the scope, focused in on a deadwood branch, then breathed in and pressed the trigger.
           First she heard the ground crack against her skull as the breath was knocked from her lungs and the rifle jumped into her face. Then there was a deafening, diabolical roll of thunder that echoed off the mountainside and drowned out all the sounds around her. The branch exploded and the beast bellowed in terror as sparks rained down next to it. It moaned and hummed in anxious discomfort, then quieted as it seemed to realize it was the only animal making noise for miles. The forest was totally silent.
           When she got up she saw Iluin staring at her with ears plastered to her head, her eyes dilated, and her fur standing on edge. Rachel smiled, put the safety back on, and slung the rifle around her back. "Rifle. Dangerous, Iluin. Safe, Rahkl." Her companion nodded slowly, then looked around and growled.
           "Na… Rahkl, Rahkl. You and I go." Iluin nodded as if she was convincing herself of something. "Yes, go. Go, go!" She looked at Rachel with a haunted expression. In what was obviously a conscious effort, Iluin forced her ears up and pointed at them, staring at her accusatorily. "You, you…" she waved at the rifle. "You [used the?] riffl! Yoari tsi - eshs dangerous now! You and I go, go now!" Go? Iluin growled throatily and grabbed her by the shoulder, pulling her up, then pointed off into the woods. "Oiure hasi ghfan. [They are?] not you, not I. [They are?] not friends; hurt you. We kaijh sha. Now."
           What? Rachel stood stiffly, confused, until Iluin grabbed her. "Rahkl!" She watched the alien's furred face scrunch up in anger. "Now!" Before she could respond Iluin's ears twitched and the great white cat snapped her head to stare past Rachel.
           Her cat friend growled and bolted for the rocky mountain peak, leaping up the boulders and past the bushes until she was at least fifty meters higher than Rachel, above the trees. Rachel watched her as she squinted and her ears drooped. Far below someone shouted, a rough alien growl, and Iluin shouted back, then bounded down, yelling at her. "Go, go, go!" she managed to make out; it was one intelligible line among a string of angry steam-leaking syllables. Rachel instinctively stepped back and swung the rifle into her hands, then stopped and looked down at it. A small part of her was revolted at the idea, but it was quickly shouted down by curiosity. Time for a field test. "No!" Iluin screamed when she saw Rachel moving in the wrong direction, but Rachel ran forward too and shoved past her as Iluin put out a restraining view.
           "No," Rachel snapped when Iluin's paws wrapped around her stomach. She turned around and pushed Iluin back. "Stay. You stay." She didn't understand; dammit. Rachel took the barrel of her rifle and pushed it into Iluin's chest. "Stay." Iluin's nostrils flared and she stepped back, putting a hand on her sword hilt. "No. Friend, dammit, I'm your friend." Rachel switched to English while she aimed off into the woods and mimed firing. "They're going to look for us, kitty, and I'm going to shoot them. Don't tell me you don't understand the concept of surprise." That got through to her; Iluin looked back at the forest, then pointed up to her surveying spot.
           "Yes, go, do. I stay."
           "I appreciate it." She moved out, going much more slowly than Iluin had because her skin was so much thinner. The rocks were jagged, rough, nasty igneous things, full of pores and sharp edges. She cut the sole of her right foot and winced, but didn't stop. There was a flat perch on a boulder not too much farther up - she clambered atop it and laid down flat, then put the rifle's scope to her eye and started scanning the forest below her. God, her pulse was racing. She was fairly sure she could find the others aliens - she used to be able to consistently catch and photograph electrons with a quark-determinant microscope when most people were considered lucky to see one even once in their lives. Compared to that, picking an alien out of some trees was nothing. Pressing the trigger: that was going to be the hard part.
           "Hai!" Iluin shouted from far below, and Rachel tracked down to her. A single cat in red livery was attacking her from afar, running forward with a drawn sword. Rachel didn't have trouble firing then; she aimed for the head and squeezed the trigger. Nothing… "Safety," she swore, taking her eye away from the rifle long enough to pull it off. By the time she had the campsite back in her crosshairs Iluin was wiping her wickedly long blade on the attacker's body. God, she was dangerous. Four more seemed to materialize around Iluin, coming out all around her. They growled and Iluin growled back. When they drew their weapons, though, Iluin snorted and chuffed loudly. She threw her sword at her feet and stepped back toward Rachel, then turned around and gave the aggressors her back. They stopped, seeming confused and uncertain, but one overcame his indecision and moved forward. Iluin noticed and looked straight up at her.
           "Hold on," Rachel whispered. She trained on the ambitious fighter and fired a single round that sheared through the creature's armor, sending a spray of red out of its back and knocking it to the ground. That one yowled in pain and the others scattered.
           "Rahkl!" Iluin warned her.
           "Yeah, I know," she muttered, "Don't let them get away." Rachel got another into her crosshairs and pressed the trigger, but the shot went wide and she had to try again. Again, a miss, and she swore, but she aimed more carefully the third time and hit the alien in the neck. Rachel didn't even try to snipe the other two, having let them run for half a minute by then. She stood up and raced down the hill of mountain rubble with the rifle in her arms, worried for Iluin. Her companion was not there when she arrived at the camp. Rachel replaced the rifle's safety and slung it around her back, then cautiously circled the tent. "Iluin? Iluin," she called. "Iluin!"
           "Rahkl?" a relieving sonorous voice asked. She twisted around to see Iluin sitting against a boulder, wiping down her blade with a rag.
           "God, I'm glad to be on your side. That's terrifying." She nodded back towards the forest where the other aliens had come from. "Did you get them? Are they dead?" Iluin must've guessed the question; she narrowed her eyes and tossed three pieces of fur into the dirt at Rachel's feet, each a different color. Ears, the young professor realized dully. "I see. How gruesome. I suppose you take scalps too?" Iluin ignored that.
           "We go. Follow."
          

---v---

           The bleak morning light washed out any beauty the forest might have had, drowning it in a white glare and early-day shadows. It hadn't rained since he'd left, but it was still cold. Normally he'd have called the air crisp and clean, but in his fading, exhausted state it felt frigid and wore his throat rawer with every breath. The road was enticing, a well traveled thing without the weeds and sharp rocks that littered the forest ground, but taking it would be too risky. He stayed at the very edge, trudging through the undergrowth and stumbling from cover to cover.
           Gods, it'd been what, a week since he'd started walking? It hurt so much. He tried not to sleep, tried to keep moving. With sleep came the nightmares. Any lone Hrasi who tried to sleep would face their mind's fears, their wraiths and specters at night, but his were stronger than most; the two times he'd slipped away he'd awoken clawing at himself and crying out in anguish. In what was left of his consciousness he was afraid, afraid of falling on his nose and going to sleep again, so he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other again and again and…
           A sort of dull, generalized pain racked through Vauhya's body as he hit the ground. The dirt got into his mouth and he coughed, saliva dipping from his muzzle. The ground smelled like animal, like prey recently visited, and that made him hungry. Damn his life. It wasn't fair; when would it be enough? What debt had he incurred, what offense had he given the universe? With one last forced push he got his face off the ground. There was nothing in sight; no sign of anyone. He was just too tired to move, was all. It hurt to admit it, but he couldn't get up. It was so cold… He moaned and shook in sobs, collapsing back on the earth. With that final release from his muscles he lost any last impetus to move.
           "Help," he croaked softly, his mouth to dry to achieve any real volume. "Help." The wind howled back at him, but didn't form words. Gods, so cold, and the shadows dimmed out the world's features. There were shadows inside him that'd come out when he lost control. Faura and Onin were gone, and Iluin was far away; no one was there to throw an arm around his chest and chase the shadows away. He cried out, one last raspy, hacking noise, then gave up entirely. Gods, it was… cold. So cold…
          

---v---

           "Ynn?" Isgarod purred. His wife was drifting against his arm. He smiled at his old love, the grizzled woman lolling her tongue out and breathing softly at his side. He knew, after decades of living with such wily trader, what was and what was not worth disturbing her for. Their mah'sur complained when he tugged on the reigns, but he brought the wagon to a stop. "Ynn. Wife?" She rubbed her head against the hem of his shirt.
           "Hrnnn, Isgarod, what is it?" He pointed to the forest at the highway's edge. There were noticeable impressions in the ground, even in its relatively dry state.
           "Tracks, Ynn. You think there might be danger farther ahead?" His wife opened and closed her eyes repeatedly, wincing as she adjusted to the starkly bright morning sunlight, then followed the aim of his ears to the impressions in the ground. She snorted.
           "No," she yawned, "I don't. The prints are oddly placed - so much so that I can see that from here. The person that made them was stumbling like a half-butchered haro."
           "They could have been chased."
           "Isgarod, long-time love, what would you have us do? We're more than halfway to Norsghar, and we've no guarantee that our trip back to the fortress city would be any safer." Isgarod considered this.
           "Well, you're right, aren't you? But will you hold the crossbow up, Ynn, just for a while?"
           "Of course." Isgarod snapped the reigns to make their mah'sur start off again while Ynn took the old crossbow and worked on fitting a bolt into it with her perpetually shaky hands. It hurt sometimes, to see the two of them withering away, but they'd lived to be over fifty years each, and thirty-seven of those had been spent in one another's company. Having lived together in their primes made the decline more palatable. Once penniless farm workers, they now plied the trade routes between cities and somehow managed to make a profit. Unfortunately, it meant watching for highwaymen. There was nothing two aging hrasi could do to protect themselves from even a single bandit, but Ynn and he were resourceful, and as a result remained alive.
           They traveled on for a time, as did the footprints. They'd seen no signs of danger. Isgarod tracked the prints with his gaze idly, then saw them enter a patch of bushes and end. He sighed and pulled the mah'sur back to a stop. What a pain it'd be to have to stand up and walk with aching joints. A nice, sun-warmed backside at his point in life was one of life's great joys, and a terrible thing to waste.
           "Hold the reigns, Ynn. I think there's someone out there; I'm going to search for them."
           "Be careful, husband." Isagarod rubbed cheeks with her and passed over the reigns to Ynn's rough, thin-furred hands.
           "Don't worry, I will." He stood up stiffly and stepped very carefully down to the ground; lately his old frame didn't take the abuse that it once had.
           No sounds came from behind the weeds and brush, but there was obviously someone there. The area reeked of a young man. It must've been someone unkempt, who hadn't bathed at the lake a few hours back down the highway. Isgarod stepped into the forest carefully, pushing aside the tall grasses and weeds. Well, there the lad was, and what a state he was in. The light-pelted young man at his feet was a mess: matted fur full of burs and dirt, scratches all over, and drool pooled at the side of his head. He was twitching and taking sharp, quick breaths. Bad dreams, Isgarod realized, and felt a wave of sympathy for the poor boy. There was a reason people came in pairs. "It's a young man," he shouted back to his wife. "He looks like he's been chased here - not hurt too badly, but not in good health either."
           "Just one?"
           "Just one," Isgarod said sadly. He looked back at his amber wife, greatly perturbed by the young one below him. "I think he's having nightmares."
           "Oh, gods. Can you pick him up?"
           "I believe so." Isgarod crouched down and rolled the young man over, then patted his cheek. "Are you alright, sir?" The man's eyes fluttered open and the slightest bit of tautness spread over his face. His tongue hung out of his mouth, but he looked lucid enough.
           "H-help…" Isgarod smiled.
           "Oh, most definitely, sir. We won't hurt you. My wife and I are going to take you with us, friend. Just lie there for a moment. Ynn? Ynn, he's heavier than he looks. Will you help me?"
           "Of course."
           "Ynn… Ynn? Uhnn…"
           "Careful," Isgarod purred, using his most fatherly timbre. "It's better if you don't talk too much. I'm Isgarod; Ynn's my wife. We'll get you into town." His wife walked up from behind him and squatted at the young man's feet.
           "Going to pick him up?"
           "I-I-I… I'm… I am… I…" Isgarod shook his head and cupped a hand over the man's mouth.
           "Don't strain yourself. You can tell us later. I've got his shoulders, Ynn. Let's lift him - one, two, and up!" Their beaten-up charge moaned at them and Ynn shushed him between grunts of exertion.
           "Don't worry, it won't be much longer - let's put him in the rear, next to the candle wax." They slid him in flat on his back, fitting him next to the bags and crates of goods bound for Norsghar. He protested in his own pathetic fashion, but they were as gentle as they could be and he quieted down when they didn't hurt him. Poor boy; he looked like a haunted man. Isgarod and his wife left him in the bed of the cart, going back to the rider's bench. His wife took the reigns and cracked them down on the mah'surs' backs, getting them started. Behind them the man cried out something, but was cut off when a stray rock on the highway made the cart jump. Isgarod turned his head back.
           "What was that you said?" The man croaked again.
           "Water… please, Is-gar… w-water…"
           "Hai, I didn't plan for that. Wait a moment." He took one of their water skins from under the bench and jumped down to the cart bed, wincing as the shock went through his knees. "Here you go, my friend." The man tried to raise an arm and drink for himself, but Isgarod would have none of that. He stuck the skin's mouth into the man's muzzle and squeezed until the water overflowed and ran down the man's grimy brown neck.
           "Enough," the man coughed, turning his mouth away. "Ugh, hurts…" His eyes wandered and he squinted, but then focused on Isgarod. There was something he wanted to say, but he took a while in trying to remember what it was; you could see that from the dazed yet concentrated expression the man wore. Then he closed his eyes, apparently satisfied, and tried to nod towards Isgarod. "I'm Vau. Yes, Vau… Vauhya. Vauhya…"
           "Yes, that's good. That's a good name, Vauhya. Don't talk anymore. Just rest."
           "My things…"
           "What, your swords?" He unclipped the two scabbards at Vauhya's belt, holding them up for the man to see. They were beautiful in their simplicity. Each was a series of metal rings and strips woven into a hard, inflexible frame with a hide and straw skin. "They're still here. Amazing blades, sir." He set down the smaller and pulled at the hilt of the larger. At the howl that ensued from the sheath he threw the scabbard and its blade down, letting them clatter to the bottom of the bed next to Vauhya. Ynn had snapped her head around at the sound of that noise.
           "That a lleiri?"
           "I think it is," Isgarod exclaimed, staring down at the young man. "We've caught ourselves an odd one."
           "You want to drop him?" The Vauhya-man's eyes dilated and he shook his head weakly, looking at him pleadingly.
           "…No, there's no need to throw a poor soul back out into the wild, especially when we didn't find anyone else with him." He stared deeply into the boy's half-glazed eyes. "You don't have a wife or a bonded partner, do you? Someone we need to look for?"
           "No… had. Died."
           "You're alone?" Vauhya gulped and looked at him solemnly.
           "Y-yes. Alone." They both shivered. Isgarod shook his head; he would've been devastated. This young man was still youthful enough to live through such a loss, but not he. If Ynn ever went it'd be his death too. He patted Vauhya on the cheek in sympathy.
           "I'm sorry; I can't imagine that. Just try to sleep now." Using gentle movements he pulled Vauhya's head up, slid a leg underneath, and let the young man rest his head there. "No nightmares, I promise. I'll sit here and hold you here while you sleep. Sleep, fa?" Vauhya regarded him gratefully.
           "T-Thank you. I - uhn…"
           "That's all right. Just sleep. Shhh…"
          

---v---

           "Sleepy, Iluin?" The White One leaned back and rubbed cheeks with Rahkl. She'd been exposed to Rahkl's wry humor before, and didn't mind anymore. Actually, Iluin found the amount of cynicism and dry wit Rahkl could draw from such a limited vocabulary rather impressive. Every day her furless companion presented more and more evidence that she was at least a hrasi's intellectual equal. On the day of the attack she'd assembled and used her enigmatic crossbow weapon. During another, Rahkl had somehow managed to slip out of their tent in the morning and prepare breakfast without Iluin awaking. Most recently Iluin had found her companion writing on some packaging paper, creating blocks of horizontal lines of text that used about twenty different characters. Rahkl definitely had her own language, including recognizable, reoccurring words and phrases, as well as amazing tools and the only weapon that truly unsettled Iluin. She made sure that she and Rahkl were very closely bonded.
           "No, I'm fine. Why? You want to try the reins again, Rahkl?"
           "Reins? No." Iluin smiled and rubbed the mah'sur's neck silently. "Water," Rahkl added. That would be the stream up ahead - Iluin had heard it long ago. If the sounds were any indicator, it was probably just past the cleft in the mountainside they were traveling through. It'd be wonderful to shed her dusty clothes and take a bath after three continuous days of riding until dusk and sleeping until dawn. Bare rock on either side of them kept the water out of sight, unfortunately.
           They were traveling through a scar in the mountain, a wound where the gods had reached out with a claw and scooped out a bit of earth. Iluin would've rather gone higher up and skipped the cleft, but Rahkl had refused to stray from the path. Iluin kept her ears open as they rode up the path, listening, but the stream drowned out most of the subtler sounds. A normal person probably would've missed the cracking of dried twigs above them in among the rush of the water, but she barely picked it out. On both sides leaves rustled more loudly as the people or beasts above grew overconfident, and she realized that they were probably surrounded.
           "Gun," she whispered to Rahkl, because that was the new word for her weapon. The other one was totally unpronounceable, worse than Rahkl's true name.
           "Yes," Rahkl whispered back. Iluin heard her friend pull the gun from around her back and twisted at the chest to hand Rahkl the reins. "What?"
           "Quiet. Be quiet," she whispered, then slid quietly off the beast and onto the road. "Just take the reins - yes, that's right. I'm not leaving you." The mah'sur carried her companion forward with stupid compliance, allowing Iluin to turn around quietly and stare at every nook and outcrop of rock above her. She concentrated, not being well informed about the nuances of stealth in that particular climate and terrain. When she was sure that she couldn't see anybody Iluin turned around and ran backwards silently until she'd come out of the mountainous trough, then climbed up the steep grade. With a paw on her blade's hilt she ran along the ridge of the mountain, dodging branches and bushes in a struggle to remain perfectly silent.
           Far ahead Rahkl screamed and Iluin forgot about secrecy, running for her partner as fast as she could. When unrestrained by the need for stealth few could outpace her, and she quickly recovered the backtracking she'd done. Below she saw the Rahkl barely in control of the mah'sur, who was moaning and dashing in circles. It was penned in; twenty or thirty Hrasi in green tunics and chain armor encircled them, each with swords drawn and bows slung around their backs. Green was the color of clan Higa; it was probably a border patrol of soldiers, not a search-and-capture. Not that that meant they wouldn't try to kill she and Rahkl. Iluin pivoted on her heel and leapt off the ridge with a percussive snarl, drawing her blade so as to make the special lleiri metal screech as loudly as possible.
           She landed inside the circle of soldiers with the mah'sur and a horrified Rahkl bearing down on her. "Hai!" Iluin yelled, dodging them and throwing out a hand to restrain her mount by the harness. The beast didn't stop immediately, and the sheer force of that moving hulk dragged her back a few paces, but she dug her feet in and stopped the mah'sur, then slashed her lleiri in a horizontal swipe at a few soldiers audacious enough to take a step forward. "Back. Back!" They moved back hastily, but held out their swords threateningly. Iluin held the beast's harness and forced her heart rate to slow, allowing her to refocus on the soldiers. She perked her ears and flexed her muscles so that the fur would resettle flatly, smiling viciously at the men and women around them. "These are my animals. You'll not touch them." A soldier broke rank from the line of fighters who blocked the road and walked toward her, sheathing his weapon.
           "You shouldn't have let your animals run loose, sher'amn."
           "Not sher'amn: I'm no sher'amn. Have your men put their swords away if you want to talk. I'll do the same."
           "That's fairly self-confident of you," he said, voice burbling with a barely restrained chuff, "especially considering how badly you're outnumbered. A sher'amn, even an experienced one, is only a sher'amn. I'm a loyal officer and member of my clan, but I -"
           "I'm not a sher'amn. If I'd been genuinely afraid that you'd harm my property you'd all be dead right now." She pointed her lleiri straight at the speaker. "Perhaps I've already traveled past the bounds of my notoriety. In my home of Yoichi they call me the White One." That had the intended effect; all around her the soldiers shuffled, wavering in their readiness. It was the psychological deterrent she had hoped for. The officer, however, didn't seem particularly perturbed, and if she couldn't shake him it would be fairly difficult to walk away without fighting.
           "Well, it's an honor. Your intimidating reputation, however, does not change my duty."
           "Which is?"
           "To patrol our borders in the interests of protecting the province, clan Higa, and its subservient families, and to bar entrance to all those who would threaten them."
           "Quite a litany, sir. Although I am no longer an active member in the Yoichi lord's court, however, I do seem to recall a long-standing treaty between them and yourselves. It was a pact that, unless I am mistaken, established free trade, free passage, and mutual non-aggression among the two states. I see little ground therein upon which you can justly stand and stop me. As for unjustly stopping me - well, but we've already spoken for that." The leader growled, but smiled and kept his ears from falling entirely. He still wasn't much of a liar.
           "I know the treaty you're addressing in its entirety; you, apparently, do not. Milady, that treaty calls for the mandatory collaboration of our clans' public militaries in defending any attack on either province. Did you know that Yoichi riders alerted us to you weeks ago? The new lord, Hahrum Yoichi, has declared you a threat to his province and convinced clan Higa's elder council to deploy our forces in search of you. You may be an extremely dangerous, enigmatic woman, White One, but you are nonetheless very much wanted in your own province." He snorted, tossing a paw in an indifferent gesture towards the mah'sur. "For the last two weeks we've been slowly retreating towards our home town of Jas'suit'ah, trying to focus in on where you'd likely come. This was just a standard observation point, and we only planned to check travelers for your recent companionship. That you would have the tenacity to come here alone is admirable, but was an ill-advised decision. Now that we have you, what will you do about the other one?"
           "The other?" But the man just flicked his ears in mild annoyance.
           "Vauhya, of course. Ex-prince Vauhya Yoichi is the only man who has a bounty that rivals your own. He is, we have heard, in your company."
           "No," she answered, her heart momentarily fluttering. It settled quickly. "No, not with me. I assume, then, that you have not yet found him?"
           "He was wise enough not to travel this way."
           "If he does, do not harm him. I beg that of you. Tell him I said he'd find no shelter in your lands and he will turn away without any shedding of blood. For my part, you may ask anything of me if you'll but keep that promise." She nodded her head at Rahkl and the mah'sur. "My animals, my blade, anything. Marry you, if that's what it takes." The leader frowned.
           "I'm not confident on whether that was humor or desperation, White One." She forced herself to laugh.
           "Not desperation, sir. In the midst of you and your soldiers? Most definitely not that."
           "And arrogant too. Well, White One, I'll convey your message if he's fool enough to come into my jurisdiction. As for you, I suggest that you turn back. We Higa don't like trouble; we're a decent, lawful people who don't allow rogues and bandits to roam our countryside. If you want asylum or safety you should go to one of Yoichi's enemies or enter the Rhe'jha."
           "I'm only passing through; I plan to go even farther north, up to the polar provinces. I won't make trouble." The officer stood there for a moment, undecided. "Must I really threaten you again? You seem a rational, sufficiently intelligent man."
           "If my lord had given me the smallest ensemble of sher'amn I would order you killed, but he did not, and I cannot justify wasting our lives for nothing." He whistled twice and slashed downwards, making the entire group sheath their weapons. "We will escort you to as near to the edges of town as we dare - we will not be seen granting you passage. If I hear that you are causing unrest among my people, White One, I will find those sher'amn and go hunting for you. I'll also warn you that none of my clansmen will respect any truce I make with you. You will travel quickly through our territory with your head down and your tail around your leg, understand?" Iluin returned her llieri to its scabbard and nodded succinctly.
           "Fine. I've no intention of making any trouble. You'll walk next to me, and none of them will walk behind us. Let's go." The officer whistled once more and they did as she ordered; Iluin tugged on the mah'sur's bridle as the leader moved to walk abreast of her and then they started off. Rahkl looked around wildly before leaning over to push Iluin on the shoulder and get her attention.
           "Iluin?"
           "Quiet, Rahkl," she demanded. "You be quiet." Then she shoved back at her partner, pushing her into riding position again. The man next to her, their leader, looked up at Rahkl and then back down to her.
           "Mah'sur are commonplace, but this is the first time I've seen one of those. What is it, and what are those things it has?"
           "It's an animal. I found it… to the south, in the tropical coastal marshes to the very south, yes. It collects shiny things. It had those in a pile when I found it and it defends them fiercely, so I let it keep its possessions. When I found her she made noises that I could only approximate as Rahkl, so that is what I named her." He frowned.
           "It talks? Is it intelligent?" Iluin shook her head as if she was considering that.
           "No, no, intelligent is the wrong word. I would call it clever. It makes noises, and sometimes it imitates hrasi words, but I don't think it talks. I've taught it 'quiet', 'stay', and 'follow'."
           "Impressive. Why is it wearing clothes?" He looked more closely. "Wait, why is it wearing the church's colors?" Ah, she had forgotten that. While she'd been going through the corpses for weapons and gold, Rahkl had relieved one woman of her boots, another of her trousers, and the leader of his simple brown cloth robe. The robe had an unfortunately distinctive cut, and the boots were stained the Rrsai's blood red. Iluin shrugged.
           "She's from a warmer climate. She needed the extra clothing to keep warm, and a troop of the church's soldiers were fool enough to try to ambush me, so I made the best of both situations."
           "But there's no blood on those clothes! How did you…" He trailed off when she just smiled at him. "No, forget that question. I'm not interested. So you're a heretic too? You'd better not let anyone trace your passage back to us." Paranoia; unless the man was an expert at imitation, he was really scared about the after-effects of his decision. That meant he wasn't trying to betray her. He sighed and stared at Rahkl. "It's almost as pale as you, White One. Is it useful? I might purchase it."
           "No, it's not for sale, I'm afraid. Until I find a male I can't breed them, so no." Iluin flicked an ear at Rahkl, checking for a reaction, but she seemed more interested in the lines of armed hrasi around her than in a conversation she couldn't understand. "It is fairly useful, though, especially for a traveler. She can be trusted with rudimentary tasks like fetching wood, she's very loyal, and she's as good as any Hrasi for bedding down with if you want to sleep restfully."
           "They say that it's just a need for outside warmth, that a nearby fire will suffice."
           "Then 'they' are fools. Sleeping in a stable next to a mah'sur is no solace; I've tried. I've never been foolish to sleep next to a live fire, however, so I can't speak for that. I think the need is in the scents, myself. In any case, Rahkl lets me dream peacefully and is smart enough not to foul the blanket. She's a better traveling companion than most hrasi."
           "I see. Well, the town's not too far ahead. You'll want to arrive before midday if you intend to remain unnoticed, so I suggest we hurry." She nodded and lengthened her stride to just a little past what she thought the man could manage at a walk. Together they pulled ahead of the group for a minute or two, but the others weren't long in catching up, keeping them at a decent clip for the entire journey. Seeing the men and women all heaving with ragged breath around her was interesting: after only a few minutes even their leader was tired enough to throw out a restraining paw towards her. "We're safe concerning time - slow down, White One! What's the use of an escort if it's too tired to fight when you meet trouble?" She stopped abruptly and grinned at him toothily when he turned.
           "Thought you said I was the trouble. What, you're afraid that I might get to town without you at my back? It'd be horrible if I walked into an assembly of the town guard without you at the rear to help them, I'm sure."
           "Gods, you don't trust anyone, do you?"
           "A few people. I trust my Rahkl. But I'll slow down, if you can't keep pace."
          

---v---

           So that was the way it was. They walked quickly enough that the soldiers began to sweat, baking inside their armor and darkly-colored pelts, but not so much that Iluin became tired. Their leader - Kanha was his name - did his best to engage her and keep her busy with pleasant nothings, but he didn't learn much. Iluin let him talk for them both. The others all looked too haggard to do much of anything. She wondered what their motivation was; if they were following their captain out of respect for him alone, well, that was impressive.
           They were not, admittedly, too tired for novelty. Rahkl seemed very popular with the troops, who weren't overlong in breaking ranks to group around her. Fortunately Rahkl decided to keep her thoughts to herself, simply looking down at the men and women who reached out to feel her hairless hide. Every time Iluin looked back she saw Rahkl staring at her intently with a bit of a pained expression, but that really couldn't be helped. She knew they were nearby when she saw the sky begin to tint a slight grey with smoke, and wasn't surprised when Kanha raised an arm to block her path once the trees began to thin. The others behind them slowed, the clanking and scraping of their metal suits slowing to a halt.
           "Let those beasts follow their master," Kanha growled with irritation, waving at his troops. They scattered from around Rahkl and the mah'sur. "What are you people, children? Hai, we're getting slow. I'm not going any farther away from the trees, White One." He pointed at the road. "Follow that into town and don't show off that sword. From there I trust that you can find your way north. You'd better take off that cloak too," he added, pointing hesitantly at her shoulder. When she backed away and growled he showed her open, empty palms. "I'm not going to touch you. It's just important that you not be picked out. It's enough that you're taller than most males and paler than most northerners; you shouldn't wear that sword and cloak. If I hear that you've doublecrossed me I'll have your pelt for a rug. No matter how many troops and sher'amn it takes White One, I'll find you if you betray me." Iluin smiled and leaned down to his level until they were almost touching noses.
           "Indeed, it'd take quite a few sher'amn and soldiers to do that."
           "I'm not joking!"
           "Neither am I. Threaten me, that's fine. If you actually tried to stop me, though…" She laughed softly. "How many seasons have you seen? A hundred? A hundred and twenty? There's a lot of the world left for you to explore. No sense in getting yourself killed this early." Behind her the soldiers shuffled nervously. "Oh, don't worry," she told them, "this one's merely trying to work me. I won't harm him for that. Nor, I expect, will I find any reason to stop and 'cause trouble'. I'd advise you, though, to be more circumspect when dealing with a benign traveler. There's no need to provoke. Hai, Rahkl, follow me. We're going."
           "Yes," Rahkl responded, snapping the mah'sur's reins. The beast trotted to her under Rahkl's guiding hand and Iluin leapt up to join her companion on the saddle. Rahkl looked down at gaping Kanha and grinned. "What?"
           "Don't toy with the soldiers, Rahkl," she purred softly, then kicked the mah'sur in the side and got it moving. They rode away, leaving a stunned regiment to stand bewildered among the trees.
          

---v---

           "A prayer and a firelight for Agahna Che'ra of Higa, that he may overcome the resistance he reports to me in Higa. A prayer and a firelight for lord Higa, that he may see the wisdom of the church's work in his province. A prayer and a-" A paw gripped his shoulder and someone crouched to his right. Agahna De'ruon opened his eyes and calmly blew out the twenty candles spread out in two arcs at his knees. Prayer required calm and patience. When the last was out he dipped his head towards his personal altar. "Harish M'na," he purred, then slowly turned his face to regard the woman who stared at him.
           She was young, tan-furred, and watched him critically with mocking dark brown eyes. A sheet of rough black cloth was draped about her slender figure, held together at her neck by a brooch resplendent with sapphires and garnets inset in a golden square. Gold, red, and blue… De'ruon set his ears half back and gave her his most concerned priestly expression. "Prayer should be a solitary, uninterrupted affair. I hope that in the future you will allow me to finish conducting my worship undisturbed." He gave her a slight nod of the head. "Your cloak and brooch indicate that you bring news from lord Hahrum." She narrowed her eyes.
           "My name is Meera. I am one of his sher'amn."
           "That much I suspected. If you've come to me with a crisis of faith then you should wait in the church with the rest of the congregation. Because you felt the need to interrupt me in prayer, however, I predict that you have more pressing business…"
           "My lord wishes to know how you've fared in tracking his brother and the White One."
           "I've sent out the church's eyes and ears. We haven't had any responses yet."
           "The ears and eyes of the church? You get them to work, Agahna, or you'll lose yours." De'ruon reared back a bit at that.
           "Now, child Meera, there's no need to threaten an old man of the priesthood. I'm your lord's staunchest supporter. Of course I would keep you informed; I'd have riders sent the moment my forces heard or did anything of note. Surely your lord understands that the church is his only irrefutable ally?" The woman sneered as she stared at him, but De'ruon was careful not to react; he maintained a benign, elderly demeanor. Finally the sher'amn snorted impudently.
           "Hrrn. I'm sure that he does."
           "Well then, we should be friends! I suppose that you're going to be the church's long-term contact?" She grimaced, then slithered her paw further down his chest and changed an iron grip into a firm hug as she leaned her head into the red folds of his robe. "I see." He leaned away from Meera's pressing and set a withered hand against her forehead, pushing her away. "That will not be necessary. I'm also a staunch supporter of the church's morals and doctrine, sher'amn." He smiled with a half-sneer. "Perhaps you have swayed some of my brethren in the past with such methods, hrrrn? Perhaps you might instead give me their names."
           "It's been a long time since a man has turned me down."
           "I'm not a man. I'm an Aghana. You're my liaison with your lord, and that's how we'll operate. If you want to manipulate me you'll have to find another way." This Meera tucked up her knees and set her head between them, giving him a look that probably let her see into his soul.
           "I'm persistent, Aghana. You're right, I will have to find another way." Then she leaned forward and cocked one ear backward. "You wouldn't have any illicit children or mistresses, would you?" De'ruon chuffed disdainfully at the sher'amn's misleadingly endearing sense of humor. As though he could be offset so easily!
           "Does your lord have any response to my offer?"
           "Not yet. He's still debating the virtues and costs of becoming an Aghana. You'll have his decision soon, though. If you're an ally, it shouldn't matter." She retracted all contact with him and rose, moving out of view. "Don't pretend to be any more virtuous than you are, Aghana. I see through that stately façade; you're just like me. A winner. A winner who doesn't let himself be bound up by rules. There's no need to hide that from me."
           "My flattery is far more subtle. I rather think that everything about me is subtler. You wouldn't go very far as a statesman, sher'amn." There was no response but the quiet whistling of the wind through the halls. He frowned and stood, then turned around to look at the draperies. They were billowing as the breeze pushed them back from the great arched windows of his study. The sher'amn was gone. He sighed; it was perhaps time to have glass installed there. It would be defacing a chapel that'd stood unchanged for countless epochs, but there were other concerns now that the church was growing…
           "Agh-Aghana! Revered De'ruon, sir!" A young, earnest voice called out from behind him. De'ruon slashed the air tiredly, feigning a deep weariness.
           "Initiate Dai, is it?"
           "Y-yes, Aghana," the man stuttered. De'ruon remained silent for a moment. "Aghana, I have news that-"
           "Calm down, Dai. You're breathing too heavily. How are you going to become anyone if you can't make yourself respectable? I have my back turned to you and I can tell that you've just made yourself a fool, running here from the main altar room. Am I right?" There was a quiet, subdued shuffle of cloth from behind him.
           "Yes, Aghana. A runner just came in with news. It's important, Aghana."
           "Never run while you're in that garb. Do you understand me, Dai?"
           "Yes, Aghana." Dai stopped.
           "Well?" the De'ruon asked, thrashing his tail in impatience.
           "Well, Revered De'ruon, ah…"
           "Yes?"
           "One of our patrols along the border of church lands found the northern search party, the one you sent for lord Hahrum's brother. They were all dead." De'ruon growled softly in frustration as his aide continued. "Three of them the rider said died of blows from a lleiri, but two were killed by something else. He said that the bodies had holes in them, as if something had scooped out the flesh, and that there were shards of metal in the wounds."
           "Do we have any of these shards?"
           "No, Revered De'ruon. He said they were all in pieces, all different, as if they were the same object torn apart in different ways."
           "Likely they were. This is most troubling, Dai. Did the rider say anything else?"
           "The man claimed that his party split up and questioned any peasant in a few hours' riding distance. They all said that there had been morning thunder even though the storm had passed. That's, ah, that's all I know."
           "Troubling." He spun around to watch Dai carefully. "Very troubling. Listen to me, initiate. Bandits killed the search party. Those two bodies with the metal shards: have their wounds hidden with sword blows, then have the all the corpses looted and burned. Tell no one of this occurrence, but bring me the unit that found the searchers; they'll be the next search party. Also send a rider to Aghana Che'ra. I want forces to come in from the north and trap this illegitimate prince and his White One."
           "Yes, Aghana." De'ruon studied his claws judiciously.
           "It's good that you understand the way of things, Dai. The Rrsai of my day won't be the Rrsai of yours. The whole hrasi race believes, but we're not the power we should be. We're the voice of the gods; we should live as such, shouldn't we? When we bring the lords into our fold, Dai, you'll finally live the life you were meant for."
           "Yes, Aghana. Is there anything else, Aghana?"
           "I'm restless. I think I'll give midday services instead of the evening ones. Which of the Jhenai is scheduled for midday?"
           "Jhen Irh. I'll tell him, Revered De'ruon."
           "No, I will. I'd like you to find me someone for later in the day. A pair if you have to: you can keep the other or just leave her bound in the tower's attic. Find peasants, a slave, or beggars. It doesn't concern me. Just make sure it's someone who won't be remembered."
           "Of course, Aghana." De'ruon watched him pad out of his door and down the hall. Well, perhaps the sher'amn was right. But he led the church in all of the northern-central provinces, and had long since realized how draining a life of his position could be. It was a small price for the people to pay, was it not?