“So, what took you away from the young ones?” Arva asked curiously.

            The Cheldean had taken Khenet’s arrival with his usual equanimity. The old woman had joined them after they were out of sight of Bluthafen’s walls, riding up on a saddleless antelope. After introductions and pleasantries, Arva set about quizzing her for details about her life.

            “Business,” Khenet said briskly.

            “Wood folk do a lot of trading then?” he asked.

            Tyla snorted in amusement.

            “An inadequate word for what needed to be attended to,” Khenet said with dignity.

            “So, you aren’t going to tell me,” Arva said.

            “No.”

            The Cheldean sighed.

            “We still have not worked out how we’re going to follow Celeres or this Prince who has taken him,” Tyla noted.

            Sanura knew her irritation with the banter of her companions was not really rational, but she still felt relieved as the conversation turned toward her husband.

            “I’m still maintaining the monitoring proxy I cast on him during his ‘transition’ back on Mt. Anguis. It tells me he’s alive and gives me his general direction, but not much else that would be useful. It wasn’t designed for more.”

            “Sounds like it’s good enough to get us started. I should be able to narrow it down as we get closer,” Khenet said, taping the side of her nose.

            “Do you think Prince Emhyr will just let us take Celeres back? I mean, last time he backed down only after Khenet’s people showed up,” Sanura said.

            “And there aren’t any wood folk living in the north-out arm, are there?” Arva asked.

            “No. The land is too wild, even for us,” the old woman answered.

            “I actually would not worry about that, Sanura. Between the four of us, we could defeat a small army of hirudin. If Emhyr chooses to oppose us, this continent will end up short one prince,” Tyla boasted.

            Khenet grinned wolfishly.

            “We should probably be a bit more subtle than that,” the Cheldean argued. “Some of us still have to live here, you know. We should work out something that the Prince would be willing to exchange for Celeres.”

            “If you’re that worried about witnesses, we’ll just have to make sure we kill everyone with the Prince,” Tyla said.

            “You missed it. Supreme Commander Vuon knows we’re after Prince Emhyr. If we reappear and the Prince doesn’t, he’ll probably be forced to assume that we killed him. I don’t want to have to dodge blood knights for the rest of my career,” Arva said acidly.

            The white-skinned Ai turned in her saddle to look back the way they had come. “It wouldn’t take that long to take care of that now,” she said.

            Arva groaned.

            “Let’s worry about that later, if we have to. For now, let’s work on a way of permanently settling the issue with the Prince without bloodshed,” Sanura said.

            They wrangled for a while over the possibilities before lapsing into a silent ride. In the evening they would exchange further ideas over the campfire, while Sanura refined her technique with the Nameless Sword. This became their pattern as they rolled along day after day, chasing the Prince’s company.

            On most days, they covered more territory than their quarry. The smaller group spent less time organizing themselves at the start of the day, and Khenet’s skills in finding food kept the travelers well fed without slowing them down. Still, the Prince’s company had an impressive head start through dangerous territory. The company had arrived at the north-out arm from a ship landing well north of Bluthafen, so it was several weeks before the travelers even found a sign of their quarry’s passage. Grimly, it occurred to Sanura that it might take months to reach Celeres if the Prince kept moving.

            She contemplated that thought one evening as the travelers relaxed around the fire. Their campsite was one the Prince’s company had used weeks earlier, and the travelers had found at the end of a particularly brutal day. The number of monsters had picked up as they left blood knight territory for the wild north. Worse, they did not have the protection of numbers that Prince Emhyr’s people did. It seemed like every day, some chitinous beast or winged predator tried to make a meal out of them. Watching the brutal response of her companions, Sanura began to believe Tyla’s boast about taking on an army. Still, having to fight off a colony of scaled, psychotic rabbits; a pack of giant wolves; a pair of bad-tempered boulders; and a single flame-throwing badger all in the same day took its toll.

            They had found the old campsite in the late afternoon, much earlier than the travelers usually stopped. Arva and Khenet wanted to give the antelopes a chance to rest after all the day’s excitement and called an early stop. Camp chores were completed quickly, and the travelers had themselves a bit more free time than they usually had.

            Sanura used hers to think of her husband as she sharpened her blade. She had long ago noticed that the Nameless Sword kept itself hair-splitting ready without help. Still, the steady of rhythm of the strokes settled the soldier’s mood. While watching the reflection of the firelight dance of the sword, she listened to Khenet and Arva discuss the pedigree of today’s monsters.

            The soldier had come to the conclusion that her weapon was rather ugly. It was plain to the point of seeming crude, even lacking a blood channel along the flat of the blade. It seem to have been painted with a cheap gold paint that showed every ding and scratch that marred the sword. Along either edge, the paint had worn away completely, revealing the unblemished dull silver of the weapon’s underlying metal. Idly, Sanura reach out and ran a finger along the exposed metal. To her surprise, the sword seemed to jump against her flesh and drew blood.

            He dumped the pills into the bowl, watching in fascination as the swirling water carried them away into the hidden dark of the sewer. The bird lady would not be happy, but he knew the truth. The shadows had switched their pills with those the doctors had given him. This was true, and he could not risk taking them, even for Aete. He wondered how long he could keep this little crime from her. She always seemed to know everything he did.

            Firudo waited for him outside the stall, a true companion in the war. Occasionally, bystanders complained to him about bringing the dog into a public restroom, but he had had too many altercations with the shadows when he went to relieve himself to heed their complaints. Firudo understood what the bystanders did not. The war allowed for no time for bathroom breaks.

            The man washed the shadows from his hands and followed Firudo back into the park. He liked the trees and grass that thrived in the yellow light falling through the dome above. The shadows lived here too, but they were calmer than their cousins that lived in the plastic and stone of the city. The man spent much of his day here, plotting his next moves for the war. He liked looking up in the red sky above and watching its weather.

            He sat on his bench and watched Firudo chase rats across the grass. Irritated, the whip-tailed rodents would cling to branches and squeak at the mutt, cursing his antics and demanding he leave. Firudo cursed them back and wagged his tail, delighted by the game. Eventually, even the redoubtable dog tired of bothering his neighbors and retreated to nap at his friend’s feet.

            As the sun reached its zenith behind the blowing pink clouds, Firudo twitched restlessly, knowing the bird lady would be there soon. He waited impatiently but still missed her coming down the path, distracted instead by the approach of a particularly daring rat. The mutt was just about the launched himself at the fearsome beast when the man pointed out the arrival of the old woman. Delighted, the dog scurried to meet her, yipping in excitement. She barked back and handed him a hot dog from the vendor near the park entrance. He took it and pranced back to the man’s feet, tossing aside the bun to get at the mixed meat.

            “Good afternoon, David,” the old woman said, handing another hot dog to the man.

            “Afternoon, Aete,” he said, biting through one end of the meal and savoring its contents. There were shadows in this as well, but they were not directly aimed at him, so he felt safe enough eating it.

            “How have you been today?” she asked.

            “Another day in paradise,” the man said.

            “Always is, inside. Weather report said Ares was kicking up quite a dust storm outside,” she said, pulling a small paper bag out of her coat.

            “You aren’t going to feed them again, are you?” he said, eyeing the parakeets that were flocking to land at her feet.

            “Of course. We’re cousins of a sort, me and them,” she said, scattering seeds.

            “It’s just your name, Aete. You aren’t actually like them.”

            “I come to the park to feed things over lunch. How would you like it if I quit feeding you?”

            The man snorted and looked away.

            Firudo watched the gathered birds longingly, but knew the old woman would fuss if he chased them. Sighing, he sniffed at the discarded bun and began to gnaw on it.

            “What have you done today?” the old woman asked.

            “Nothing.”

            “I’ve restored two old systems, today. Antiques made for games. Fearsomely primitive, but the new ways were built on the old ways, I always say.”

            “I guess.”

            The man rarely said much, which Aete already knew. She filled in his silence with gossip, sharing the news of her neighbors and her grandchildren that had transpired over the last day. The man enjoyed listening to her and sharing a few minutes with someone oblivious to the shadows. Passionately, he rededicated himself to never letting the shadows hurt her. He kept the resolution to himself. Discussing the shadows made her very uncomfortable.

            He managed to keep his wandering thoughts to himself that day, avoiding any conversation that might lead to questions about his pills. He waved good-bye cheerfully as she got up to return to her job, pleased at having not upset his friend at all today. Everyone should have someone to buy them hot dogs.

            Sitting all day was a bit much for the man, so he walked down to the fish pond in the afternoon. Firudo tagged along, charming any human that deigned to stop and pat him. The man stood at the edge of the pond, watching the ripples of the occasional surfacing fish break the glassy surface. Lost in his thoughts, he failed to notice the stranger watching from across the pond.

            When he finally looked up, the stranger started a bit and waved to make sure the man saw him. The man hesitantly waved back. Still, the man looked around, sure the stranger was waving at someone else. No one ever noticed him. Firudo they noticed and adored, but they rarely saw the man even with Firudo at his feet.

            But, sure enough, the stranger had come around the lake and was approaching him. The stranger’s clothes, the business suit and tie commonly worn two centuries ago, were ever further out of date than the man’s. Still, the clothes were as sharp and neat as if they had been fitted yesterday. The man wondered if the stranger was in a period play fitting dragons and recusing princesses. No, the man realized, the clothes would be different if that was what it was.

            “Elohim,” the stranger whispered as he came near.

            That was an old word, the man knew. A librarian’s word, and a smart one at that.

            “Not today. Maybe tomorrow,” the man answered.

            The librarian smiled slightly. “Yes, there always are tomorrows aren’t there.”

            “Until the end. What do you want?” the man asked suspiciously.

            “What we all want. Knowledge. Freedom. Freedom to, freedom from.”

            The man grunted noncommittally.

            Firudo, seeing a new playmate, bounced over and leapt onto the librarian. Smiling wide, he scooped the dog up in his arms and hugged him close. “Hello, you,” the librarian said.

            The man softened as Firudo barked joyously. Any friend of Firudo’s had to be a good person. “You need help?” he asked the librarian.

            The librarian hesitated. “Yes, I suppose I do. I’m just not sure you’re the one who can help me.”

            The man nodded, understanding.

            Firudo squirmed out of the librarian’s arm to chase another rat.

            “Are you here often?” the librarian asked.

            “I like the park.”

            “I know that feeling myself, but not everyone agrees with it.”

            “The shadows.”

            “In a way. I suppose you could say I’ve been trying to cut a deal with them.”

            “Don’t trust them,” the man snapped.

            “I don’t, but one must have dealings with them to ultimately get rid of them.”

            The man considered that. “Perhaps.”

            “If I can get the plan moving, would you be willing to help?”

            “It would get rid of the shadows.”

            “Yes.”

            “Then yes.”

            The librarian nodded. “I don’t know when it will happen. There are still details to attend to. Will I be able to find you here later?”

            “I like the park.”

            “Good enough. I’ll take leave of you now. I wouldn’t want to draw undue attention to you from the shadows,” he said and looked up to the sun hidden in the sky.

            The man followed his gaze and when he looked back, the librarian was gone. He found that unsettling, but Firudo sat nearby, chewing vigorously at a flea. If Firudo was not concerned than neither was the man.

            He spent the rest of the afternoon watching dust storm above, and in the evening, returned to his coffin.

            Sanura jerked her hand away, breaking the experience. She had been that man, living his day as if it were her own. Every detail, down to the snapping squish of biting into the hot dog was now as much of her memory as the battles earlier in the day. However, that day in the park stood in complete isolation. What the man experienced before or after that day, she did not know.

            Her companions blithely continued their conversation, unaware of Sanura’s vision. Apparently, it had taken only a heartbeat, not long enough to notice her lapse. While she sheathed the sword, she considered sharing the man’s story with them. She thought better of it as they had all displayed agendas beyond Celeres’ rescue and Zonneshin only knew what new direction the vision might send them off on. The man seemed to have nothing to do with their current chase, and it did not seem to have hurt her, so she decided to let it be.

            Telling the others goodnight, the soldier crawled into her bed roll. She had the early morning watch, so no one questioned her. She suspected thoughts of the experience would keep her awake long into the night. Instead, she was surprised when Khenet woke her out of a deep slumber for her watch some hours later.

            The travelers continued their pursuit, slowly gaining on the Prince’s company. In the evenings, Sanura continued her discrete experiments with the sword. Every nick gave her several hours worth of the man David’s life. Unfortunately, when those hours took place in his life fluctuated wildly. Among other things, she experienced several hours as an infant, crawling across a carpeted floor and examining the texture of plastic objects with his lips and tongue. It was fascinating, but gave her no insights into why her visions were of this man’s life.

            What was clear was that the man David was not from Tiran. There were too many strange things like hot dogs and air locks that appeared nowhere on her world. Instead of the colors of the rainbow, the people were all shades of brown. These details never changed. Either it was not Tiran, or the man was insane in a frighteningly consistent way. Sanura could not be sure of which is was.

            Tired of fighting every day, Khenet spent more time scouting ahead for the travelers, steering them through the clearest paths she could find. Tyla found her companion’s interest in avoiding fights amusing and said so after their efforts led them away from an encounter with a flock of steel-winged ravens and into one a prickly-spined, six-legged, rampaging wooly-beast.

            When they reached the valleys in the mountains, they were greeted by a few days of blizzards but no monsters. The wind whipped across the land, shaking tree branches and tossing snowflakes at them. Occasionally, they could hear the howl of a wounded beast above the wind, but the creature proved elusive when Khenet went looking for it.

            They found the mold-consumed valley as the winds doubled again and icy flakes tumbled around. The travelers huddled under the ineffective shelter of a small copse of trees and tried to determine why the far end of the valley looked so strange. After Arva’s proxies and Sanura’s second-sight proved uninformative, Khenet left the others to discover what she could.

            The old woman returned with a dubious report. “It looks like some sort of mold has taken over that end of the valley. I don’t like the looks or the smell of it. It’s killed just about all the trees and other plants in its territory. I couldn’t tell if there were any animals in it, but they could all just be taking shelter from this muck,” she said, gesturing at the snow.

            “There aren’t. I haven’t seen it until now, but I’ve heard about the forest of mold up here. It’s deadly stuff. We’ll probably have to go around,” the Cheldean said.

            “There’s a complication. I think whatever has been howling over the past few days lives in this area. There’s something around here, anyway. From the signs, I’d say it was a giant of some sort. The tracks are all over, although they’re heaviest along the edge of the mold’s territory. It’s carefully avoiding going in,” Khenet said.

            Arva sighed.

            “How much time would we lose going around it?” Tyla asked.

            “A day maybe.”

            “Which means we could gain a day if we go through the mold and Prince Emhyr’s company had to go around,” Sanura noted.

            “Do you have anything to protect us from the mold?” Tyla asked the Cheldean.

            “Nothing comes to mind. If I can examine it closely, I might come up with something,” he said.

            “Then let’s go,” Khenet said.

            The ground crunched under the hooves of the antelopes, leaving behind deep gouges in the snow that the wind relentlessly hammered away. They reached a point near the border and waited huddled close for warmth while their riders cautiously examined the mold. The travelers discussed their options until a nearby bellow grabbed their attention. They peered through the falling snow, trying to spot the source.

            “Think that was your giant?” Arva asked.

            “Unless one of the trees has learned how to scream,” the old woman answered.

            “Let’s move along, shall we?” the Cheldean said, directing his mount to the south.

            The travelers rode at a sedate pace, allowing Sanura and Arva to examine the true names of the mold. Khenet moved to the front to lead, and Tyla fell back beyond the pack antelopes to keep a watch.

            A shout from the Ai brought the group to a stop. Sanura looked up from where she speculated about the mold with Arva to see what Tyla wanted. Behind them, obscured by trees and shadow, a giant shape lumbered toward them. Tyla blasted a beam of light back to scare it off, illuminating it in the process. The giant looked terrible. Blackened hair hung from it in patches, failing to hide ugly purple scabs that covered its skin.

            Rather than scaring the beast, Tyla’s bolt enraged it. Howling, it shambled faster toward the travelers. Sanura reached for her sword, but Tyla had the situation well in hand. Coolly, the Ai whipped out another bolt, sheering through a tree. She grabbed its trunk with her light and threw it at the giant, staggering him. The monster considered them coldly, then sprinted forward. Tyla hit him again, this time with a bolt to the face. The blow knocked him off his feet. Sanura watched him sit back up slowly and was impressed that his head was still attached.

            When he made no motions to get up and resume the fight, Tyla turned and instructed, “Ride off, but slow. Let’s not give him the impression we fear him.”

            Khenet set her antelope into motion, leading the others in a walk. Tyla watched the giant grimly until it fell out of sight, then returned to her general vigilance. Arva and Sanura continued their interrupted discussion while looking around warily.

            “What about the proxy you used on us in Einian’s caves?” Sanura asked. “If we don’t breath, could the mold hurt us?”

            “From what I can tell, yes. The true names sound like the mold feeds on soft flesh of any sort. The tree trunks still stand because of their density and are preserved because the mold kills anything that would otherwise hurt them. The roadweed we followed down to the edge could survive because of its high ether content, which bodes well for Tyla, but is bad news for the rest of us. I can’t tell how long it would take to seriously harm low ether soft bodies like us.”

            “What if we were enclosed in something?”

            Arva thought about that. “Shields that thorough tend to require constant singing. I’m not sure my voice would last long enough to cross the area,” he said reluctantly.

            “How about Tyla’s ring?”

            “Good idea. Let’s find out.”

            The duo dropped back to talk to the Ai. She directed them to ride between her and the moldy area so she could maintain her watch on the thickening forest. They told her their idea, but Tyla shook her head no.

            “Won’t work,” she said.

            “Why not? I’ve certainly seen you do wilder things with it, and I’ve never noticed that it needed recharging,” Arva noted.

            “That’s not the problem,” she said. She brought up a shield from the ring that floated between her and them. “Touch it.”

            Sanura reached out and ran her hand across it. It was rock solid and impossibly smooth. In fact, the solider had a hard time keeping her hand against it. The surface was incredibly slick, and her fingers kept sliding around.

            “No friction,” Tyla announced. “I could certainly put a bubble around us, but I would have to include the ground to keep the spores off of us. It would be worse than walking across ice. The antelopes would hate it, and it would probably take us longer to cross than go around.

            Arva frowned. “Well, then-”

            Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by an incoming boulder. It caught Tyla with her back to the forest and crushed her against her own shield.

            That part of Sanura that grieved her friend’s death was subsumed by reflexes that demanded she locate the threat. The trees had gotten thicker, and the soldier could not spot it through the falling flakes. She could hear Arva yell for Khenet to run, and then he started to chant in a steady voice. He grabbed her arm and gestured for her to go.

            “But Tyla-” she protested.

            “I’m fine,” the Ai said, standing up unharmed.

            Sanura gaped at her. “How tough are you?” she demanded.

            Arva shouted in three voices, deflecting a second flying stone. He scowled at the women.

            Tyla grinned wickedly. “Better get moving,” she said and lassoed her panicked mount with a beam from her ring.

            The trio galloped after Khenet, trying to outrun their assailant.

            “We should head back and kill him!” Tyla argued.

            “We’re the intruders, not him! Let’s try running first,” Sanura countered.

            Tyla scowled but kept riding.

            A few more boulders reached them, but the travelers quickly moved out of range. Khenet led them away at a run, aided by a proxy from Arva that magically enhanced their speed.

            At one point, a short figure in a brown cloak stood in their path, waving his harms for them to stop. Khenet directed the group around the figure. When it tried to leap into the herd to slow them down, Tyla reached out with light from her ringed and slapped it aside. Sanura caught a glimpse of horns and hooves popping out of the cloak as it tumbled away.

            The travelers slowed after rounding the southern edge of the mold but did not stop. Arva slumped in his saddle, panting. Khenet began her own proxy, smoothing the snow and hiding their trail.

            “Good run,” Tyla said.

            The Cheldean huffed a bit. “I hate that proxy.”

            “Does what it’s supposed to, though.”

            Khenet let her proxy lapse after the sun went down, and the travelers set up a cold camp. They decided the risk of the giant tracking them was too great to set a fire. Their precautions would turn out to be futile, but the giant was not the first to find them.

            The guard was set and the travelers had just bedded down when the visitor stepped into camp. “You cannot stay here,” the brown robed figure said.

            Caught unaware, Arva leapt up, cursing. The visitor had somehow avoided tripping the detection proxies the Cheldean had placed around the camp.

            Hearing Arva’s alarm, the others bounded out of bed, ready to fight. Tyla beat the others to the first action and seized the visitor in a web of light. The attack illuminated the figure clearly. The hood of his cloak was thrown back to reveal the head of a goat, complete with stubby horns and matted gray fur. From what they could see, his body was human enough except for the fur and the hoofed feet sticking out under the cloak.

            “Are there any others?” Tyla asked Khenet, who was scanning the woods and sniffing the air.

            “Not yet, but Pyrs will be here soon,” the goat-man said.

            “It looks clear, but I also thought that before he showed up,” Khenet growled.

            “I am alone,” their visitor said.

            “And this Pyrs you mentioned?” Arva asked drolly.

            “Will also be alone. We rarely keep company with each other anymore,” the goat-man said with regret.

            “I take it that Pyrs was the giant we face earlier today. We left him pretty far behind. You really think he’ll be able to find us?” Sanura asked.

            The visitor shrugged and said, “I did, didn’t I? He will find you tonight if you don’t keep moving. You are too close to Fynchan for him to risk leaving you unattended.”

            “Let him go, Tyla. Your ring makes us stand out like a beacon. Keep an eye on him, though. Kill him if he acts up,” Khenet instructed.

            “Think we should move out?” Sanura asked.

            “Tyla and I will pack,” Arva announced. “Khenet, watch for other intruders. Sanura, keep an ‘eye’ on our guest.”

            The soldier nodded and turned her second-sight on their visitor. She could tell in an instant that however he appeared on the surface, the goat-man was mostly human. More so, in fact, than Khenet or Arva looked. There were differences from regular humans in the goat-man, but they seemed mostly to be mutations of more typical human true names. There were none of the vibrant not-colors of proxies around him.

            “Do you have a name?” she asked.

            “Newlyn.”

            “Do you always try to drive visitors away like this?”

            “Pyrs does a much better job at that than I do. I just try to warn them off before he or she gets a chance to kill them.”

            Sanura ignored that puzzling reference for a moment. “There would have been a group that came through here not too long ago. A company of gold masks with a blood knight and maybe a woman in a gray robe.”

            “About a week and a half ago. Went right through Fynchan, which really pissed Pyrs off. He tried to ambush them on the far side, and they lit him up like a bonfire. That’s why he looked as bad as he did when you saw him. He’s still recovering.”

            “We’re ready. Let’s go,” Arva said, leading the string of their antelopes.

            “I know this land very well, certainly well enough to avoid Pyrs, even in the dark. Would you like me to lead?” Newlyn asked.

            “Definitely not,” Khenet growled before stepping off into the dark of the forest.

            After shooting a warning glance at Newlyn, Tyla took point, guiding the antelopes along the smoothest paths she could find with her inhuman eyes. The animals cursed the darkness and the uneven ground with sour bleats. Sanura followed with the goat-man. Behind them, Arva worked the trail-hiding proxy Khenet had used earlier.

            “So, what is this Fynchan you mentioned?” the soldier asked, resuming her conversation with the goat-man.

            “That is,” Newlyn said, pointing into the mold covered area. “Or was. I no longer share Pyrs conviction that it is still her.”

            “Something hidden by the mold?”

            “No. Fynchan is the mold itself. What’s left of her, anyway.

            “There used to be a town there. People would come through from the coasts or Kagayaku or Mili. Pyrs, Fynchan, and I were born here and grew up together. Everyone figured Pyrs or I would marry her.

            “Then the change happened and everything was different. You people call it the Shard War, I think.

            “The waves of magic washed all over this arm, but around here, only one touch down. Pyrs became a hairy giant. I became-well, furry and short. Fynchan just sort of fell apart into a pile of purple spores.”

            “The mold,” Sanura said.

            “Yeah,” Newlyn sighed. “We tried to get help from the town, but everyone thought we were monsters. We knew of a Cheldean about a week away. We hoped he could change us back, so we went looking for him.

            “We were less worried about us than Fynchan. Pyrs and I could probably convince everyone that we were still us. Fynchan couldn’t do anything at all, and that had us scared. I mean, how long could someone take being a pile of dust without going crazy?” With that, the goat-man lapsed into a thoughtful silence.

            Sanura broke it, saying, “I would think it more likely to have killed her outright.”

            Newlyn looked at her sourly. “We were still alive. There was no reason to think she wouldn’t be, too. That’s what we thought then anyway.”

            “So, the Cheldean obviously couldn’t help you,” the soldier prompted.

            The goat-man sighed. “No. Worse, the changing had completely disrupted the countryside. Monsters roamed the land now. Instead of a week, it took a month to get to the Cheldean and another to get back. We had left Fynchan behind stored in a chest, but she had gotten loose and taken over the village. There were bodies everywhere, covered in purple mold.

            “Pyrs went kind of crazy, but I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I dragged him along as we searched for some way to put her back together. After a couple of years, we went our separate ways. I was out for decades trying to find something that would change us back. I returned eventually and found that the mold had grown no further in my time away. I reluctantly concluded that Fynchan was gone, that she had probably died as soon as she became the mold. I saw no reason to try and dispose of her remains, so I left the mold and ruins intact as a memorial to what had been.”

            “That was centuries ago,” Sanura said.

            “Yes.”

            “You haven’t been here the whole time have you?”

            “He’s been around,” Arva interrupted, dropping his proxy to speak. “Stories about him are still told, although they suffer from detail drift. Usually, they have a distorted version of his name and claim that he wore a goat skull, not that he had one. He’s one of the few Changed that ended up immortal. There are no records of him for the past of couple of centuries, though.”

            “I’ve been here, mostly. Pyrs turned out to be immortal from the change, also. Unlike me, he never accepted Fynchan’s death. He became more and more extreme in his efforts to heal her, earning a reputation across Tiran as a monster. Several reputations, actually. I know at least five different names he used while committing his crimes. Tried to kill him twice, but we’re both too tough.

            “A couple of centuries back, I tricked him into believing there was a solution, but it would take decades, and he would have to ensure no one bothered her remains. Truthfully, I had found a different secret entirely. I had discovered that visitors had to be kept away from Fynchan’s remains. The mold can’t survive away from the ruins, but it lives long enough to kill most who come into contact with it. So, Pyrs settled down here to keep people out of the mold, and I followed to lead people away from him. Doesn’t always work, tough. Your friends probably set his ‘preparations’ back by years.”

            Just then, Khenet burst recklessly from the underbrush. “That giant is right behind us.”

            Newlyn looked sharply at Arva. “You are you a Cheldean?”

            “Yes.”

            “Pyrs has excellent night vision and good hearing, but his sense of smell isn’t great. A proxy that makes us look and sound like the surrounding forest will hide us from him.”

            Arva sang quietly, flooding the region with peculiar not-colors that masked the humans and antelopes with rough imitations of the snow and air they stood in. Khenet raised an eyebrow at the Cheldean’s easy compliance with their intruders orders, but Tyla caught the old woman’s eye and reassured her with a shake of her head.

            The stomping of the giant broke the quiet minutes that followed. Using senses heightened by his change, he had stalked them across the valley. Now their trail had disappeared as he actually approached them. Growling, he strode forward until he stood in their midst. Sanura braced herself, but the giant stepped around the travelers and their mounts. Fooled by the magic, Pyrs howled and took off to examine the woods closer to the mold.

            “Love blinds a person to so many things,” Newlyn sighed.

            “It also makes certain choices inevitable,” Sanura said, sheathing her sword.

            “We should swing out a ways. He’ll stay closer to the mold until he’s sure we didn’t head into it,” the goat-man said.

            Arva grunted and set the antelopes into motion.

            They had not further trouble. Newlyn knew Pyrs well and steered the travelers free of the giant’s territory. By mid-afternoon, the travelers had swung around until they had reach the road again, far beyond where Pyrs was likely to check. By then, the goat-man felt like one of them. The travelers were sorry when he announced he had gone as far he was going with them.

            “I’ll take my leave of you here. Good luck with your quest,” he said.

            Sanura said, “You’ve picked a hard guardianship for yourself, Newlyn, but we appreciate your help.”

            The goat-man waved after the travelers as they rode, taking their own secrets and choices away along the road.