"An Ivory Tale, Chapter Eight: The Cradle and the Grave" by Toni J Kaukinen

The stench of the carnage wafted with me, always only a step behind or ahead, mostly thanks to the wind.
        "Ashes, ashes, ashes and snow!" I snarled, staring down from the ridge I had climbed on. Ormungadr hissed a groggy chide back at me. "Stow it."
        The reason for my outrage was especially clear to me as I surveyed the leftovers of the recent carnage. If there were more of these humans and creatures whose bodies were scattered down in the valley, I was in trouble. And indeed, in the distance, I could see movement near weak campfires, and even some standing trees. Spotting the movement at the fires was becoming more difficult with each passing moment as snow covered much of the ground and clouds much of the sky. It was dark now, with no sunshine or moonshine attempting to pierce the veil of clouds that blocked what little starlight there had been when I arrived.
        Suffice to say, I shuddered with fear and cold. I was half-blind in darkness, something I rarely was and never had been out in the open. I had taken a fur cloak from the corpse of a human I had literally tripped on. He no longer needed it. But even with the fur cloak (which reeked) as insulation, the cold was slowly biting my bones. The only thing I could see and feel properly was the extraordinary pull of Sheiko Nightwrought, and this was my only solace and hope in this dismal place that with its darkness reminded me so much of the realm Erkhan used as his doorstep.
        And my hunger was slowly wearing away my resolve to continue stumbling through the dark until I met with Sheiko. Though I am fairly sure some the wilder Caedaren, Fists in particular, have nothing against eating carrion, scavenging is beneath me. Especially as some of the corpses I kept walking on and into were not human. Even salvaging the wineskin and several waterskins from the corpses made me nauseous. Some reminded me of beastmen, some were gigantic beasts, and some were remotely human. Some reminded me of those from my ill-chosen travels through layers.
        With hunger still in mind, I slowly and very carefully climbed down the hill over rocks, boulders, corpses and fallen trees and headed for the smallest campfire I could see. I was unlikely to find prey other than human or monster. In some manner I still could not entirely forsake the idea of dying gloriously in a place no one would remember.
        Or at least, not after I was done with it. (The thought cheered me up as I stumbled my way to the campfire, weaving past evergreens.)
        If there was something meritorious about the darkness, it was that thanks to it I had no specific need to use the illusions spun into my lighter cloak. In this faint light, I could actually see where I was walking. I was certain the two malformed, stocky creatures huddling at the campfire could not see me.
        I edged closer and closer, feeling more than fairly jittery as I stared at the creatures. Careful to partially cover my eyes so that they would not reflect light, I crouched behind a tree and listened to them, not understanding a word they said. I made use of the time to examine their equipment and to stare at the bags and sacks they had placed near the felled tree they used as a bench.
        They were both victorious and afraid, but whereas one was attempting to drown it with a jubilant act, the other sat under the makeshift shelter of evergreen branches and stared numbly into the fire. This was good.
        I waited until the victorious one indicated signs of going somewhere to relieve itself. It hobbled away, straight into the opposite direction, but even that was a welcome gift. Whilst it was going behind a fallen tree to do whatever it was doing, I circled around the other one that was still staring at the fire.
        With the wind blowing from the direction the other one had gone, it was no task at all to sneak up on the other one and end its existence with a dagger planted firmly in the back of its neck. It was not completely silent, but silent enough. Once that was done, I slipped away and behind a tree on the opposite side of the campfire.
        When the other returned a while later, it began to display the same symptoms of mild panic its companion had before I had gifted death to it. Because I was behind the fire, it could not see me whereas I saw it perfectly.
        As it looked around in panic, I edged closer, thankful for the blanket of snow that muffled my footsteps slightly.
        Sadly, luck was not on my side and the snow I was so grateful for hid a branch. When it snapped, I was faced by a creature roughly my own size holding an axe that looked more fitting for woodcutting, although, the trees that were felled with that axe were likely to be twice as thick as old oak trees.
        Closer by, I could see how ugly it truly was. A large, hooked nose, muddy eyes and yellow teeth and a gray skin. Its hands were black and huge, and the arms they were connected to indicated it was accustomed to wielding heavy objects or breaking small things - for example, the brains of its comrades. When it sneered at me, I sneered in response and drew my sword, still keeping my dagger in the hand I had injured in the ruins.
        It tried to speak at me in a piping voice, but it only managed to sound like a gurgling sparrow. I shook my head at it, wondering how this was going to end. But just as I did so, it attacked with more guggling and bubbling, and then there was no need for me to wonder anymore.
        I stayed on the defensive as it chopped and swung its axe wildly, hitting mostly the ground or the trees. Even though it had been resting, it tired itself rather quicker than I had expected, allowing me to distract it by tossing my dagger at it before plunging my sword in its gut. In the process, however, I came near to losing my other foot as it swung its axe blindly. Thankfully, it connected with the ground and I simply tripped on the axe, falling and losing my grip of the sword already planted deep in the creature's gut.
        The hard part was getting my sword out, rather than anything else. I managed, of course, but my head hurt from hitting it on the ground. But the creature lay dead, and I was curled up near the fire.
        Ormungadr hissed from my sleeve, berating me groggily.
        "Terribly sorry, you prissy slitherer," I mumbled and glared at the sleeve he was hiding in, all the while attempting to shake off the vertigo. Then my eyes caught the bags the creatures had left for me, and my curiosity took over. I took the closest of the bags for closer examination.
        Much to my chafe, there were gold bracelets, silver rings, copper necklaces and other valuables instead of food. I looked up to both of the corpses, eyeing their weapons. Yes, they seemed quite like the ones the dead men still clung on to in the valley. So these creatures, the like of which I suspected lay somewhere there, were survivors and scavengers.
        Spitting on the fresher kill, I grabbed the second closest bag, which was, thankfully, filled with food. Most of it was still edible, especially the dry meat. I can, with pride, say that I refrained from wolfing it all down. I ate one bite at a time and left plenty for the journey. Then, hoping my senses were enough to warn me of any intruders, I settled down to sleep, but not before propping the creatures up to sit in silent vigil.
        I slept more peacefully than I thought was possible, dreaming of lost little children dancing in a field of dandelions. Mind you, I hate dandelions unless they are served properly. (You cannot imagine for how many summers I have attempted to keep them out of my garden, but they return every damn year despite my best efforts.)
        Hours later I woke up with a craving for dandelions, but knew I was not going to have any to make decent tea out of - the sun had not risen, and snow still covered the ground. I broke my fast with what the ill-fortuned scavengers had in their food bag while listening to distant, lightningless thunder.
        When I was finished, I poked both of the half-frozen corpses so that they fell on their backs before leaving with two bags of their food and water and a the rope the other one had. It made carrying the bags easier.
        I never said I was not capable of bearing a grudge, yes?

        The near total darkness was once again nigh intolerable, but I ploughed my way through the snow relentlessly. How long I slept before I set off again, I have no idea, not even today. I do not even know how far I walked, but I do know that at some point during my staggering I sighted something red high in the horizon. I was startled to realise it was much closer than I had initially thought, or at least much larger. Roaring, it spewed brimstone and molten rock, lighting itself.
        I stifled a chuckle as I realised this was the cause for the 'thunder' I had heard earlier. My friend was somewhere there, possibly using the volcano to power her magicks. It was a very old trick, from the days we still inhabited the dark and bright north, enjoying the hot springs with silent reverence for the Mother.
        "How fortunate we are," I said to Ormungadr, who had been made torpid by the cold. "Or you are."
        Again, time passed as I forced my already hurting legs through the snow that was up to my knees, then some time later, halfway down my shins. Then down to my ankles, as I climbed up the hill that was nearby the source of light. Halfway up the hill I had to practically crawl up the icy slope with the help of a dagger.
        On the top there was no snow, and I felt some warmth, even if there still was very little light. In what there was I could see that it was not only one volcano, but at least four in the near vicinity, and, to my left and right in the distance, there were many, many more. Streaks of lava were slowly crawling along next to the nearest ones. Far in the distance, under the gigantic volcano had exploded earlier and caught my attention, a forest burned, adding to the black clouds above. Had I not possessed the gift of Finding, I would have despaired and committed suicide there. Sheiko could have chosen any of these volcanos or lava flows, possibly even the large giant that spread its lifeblood everywhere.
        I sat down to eat and contemplate my plans, talking to the stirring Ormungadr and giving him some of the meat and water.
        In the middle of this, I only barely noticed a man negotiate one of the paths between the nearby hills of dead, strangely blackened grass. As he approached, I made notes of his appearance; nearing the end of his prime, as his white beard told me. He was strong and tall, dressed in tough studded leathers, and a large sword was strapped firmly to his side. Light hair, spreading from under a helmet with a ram's horns on it, hung at the level of his shoulder. He was brushing them away from his face, halting when he noticed me. Almost immediately his hand was reaching for the sword, but when I made no gesture other than a chuckle, he ceased moving.
        Petting my snake as I stared at the man, I tried to decide whether or not he would be trouble. The conclusion: yes, it was rather likely. I stood up, placing Ormungadr on my wet shoulder. "Peace, rover," I called in Viklandish, hoping he understood what I was saying. "I mean no harm."
        The man stopped and squinted keenly at my dim figure before smiling in a grim manner. The very moment I was about to change to a different language, he spoke. "I have only good intentions myself, warrior. I'm not looking for a fight," he said, although the language he spoke was similar yet not very much like Viklandish. I still understood it easily, though, which bothered me to some extent. The last time this had happened, I had dealt with a sorceror of moderate power, but though strange, this man did not strike me as the sorcerous type. I decided it was better to choke my curiosity.
        He turned to look at the mountains that dribbled copious amounts of liquid rock, then turned to me. "I see you're going there. If you are, look out, for there is a battle raging on, deep in the fire."
        Raising my eyebrows, I turned my eyes toward the lava that slowly crept onward on its own path. "Nonetheless," I said, this time in Viklandish as archaic as I could muster, "that is where my way takes me. I appreciate the warning, of course."
        The man nodded, refraining reacting to the change of language. "Do you have any food to spare?"
        Recognising that this tidbit was worth a little prize and that it was best to keep the man happy, I tossed him the smaller bag of food, which he catched deftly. Although giving silver when one has gold is perhaps unethical, it is also wise when one has a long way to go. Besides, even giving silver is a generous gesture.
        "Thanks," he said, biting into salted fish after rummaging quickly through the bag's contents. His eyes turned to look up at me. "What are you doing here, wanderer? You certainly don't seem to fit here."
        I smiled in a brittle manner. "I compliment your sharp eyes. I do not. To be frank with you, I must confess I cannot construe my presence here either." He chewed on the fish patiently and waited. Barely realising I had teased a human in the manner I tease Caedaren, I smirked and answered his question. "I came here to look for a friend. She wore gossamer and dark cloaks with purple and white patterns when I last saw her."
        The man grunted. "Sadly, I can't help you. She could be hiding in one of the caves. There's one inactive gusher there." He pointed over his shoulder and then glanced over mine into the darkness when I was staring over the lava mat. "I need to go. Best of luck with your search, and thanks again," the man said and saluted me with the fish before eating the rest of it.
        "You are quite welcome, warrior. Safe trails," I said to his retreating back, on which was strapped a huge horn. Eventually, he disappeared into the cold darkness whence I had come from, never looking back.
        Puzzled, I shook my head and simply resigned to humming a ditty and walking down the slope to a suitable pile of rocks and boulders. If the heat was going to become any worse, I decided it was better to hide the fur cloak. Once I was free of it, I stretched and continued my quest for the magicker. But before I set off, I took my pipe, filled it and lit it. My good mood was returning.
        Only a while had to pass for me to sight the battle I had been warned of. I was puffing the last the pipe had and lying low against dead grass, not bothering to use my cloak's illusory qualities as in this environment not even I could see much or far. Some sort of battle was indeed taking place in the middle of the lava flows that filled a valley heading to my left, burning grass and the remnants of trees. Quite honestly, I did not think the fighters would notice a solitary figure minding his own business, though, and even if they did, I trusted my feet to spirit me to safety. Well. Not that the battle worried me yet, but the fighters did. There were people consisting flames fighting retreating darker figures, some humanoid, some remarkably less so. I hoped I could go around it.
        As far as I could tell by moving between two points, Sheiko was approximately between two volcanoes on some of the higher ground I could see. I decided to take a detour to the right and avoid some harsh terrain. It would take me enough precious time to go there, carry her out and then somehow smuggle us out of here. It was exactly this stage that worried me - despite my hopes and trust in Sheiko's mastery of magick, I could not be entirely certain that she could provide us with the exact means of escape.
        After emptying my pipe, I started moving as slowly and patiently as I could but with little care about the sounds I made as I shifted into a jog.
        Once I was certain of being a safe distance away from the skirmish and the lava flows, I calmed down to a walk and wondered what it was they were fighting for in the first place.

        I found her lying under the cover of a collection of rocks on a cliff over-looking one of the lava flows, sleeping. The layers of cloaks and gossamer, which were meant to make her figure vague, were tattered and occasionally burnt. Her wavy hair, which protruded from under a decorated mask of leather and several layers of fabric, was gray, filthy. Her staff, which she actually only used to make a good impression on people (and occasionally, bludgeon someone), was in a tight grip. For a moment, I was afraid she might be dead; the usual sensation of magick easily felt near magickers did not crackle in the air and, more frighteningly, her mask did not mirror the landscape.
        But when I crouched and reached for her mask, I was promptly hit on the hand with the heavy end of the staff. I flinched, and I will not lie: it hurt, but not enough to stop me from reacting. Before she could hit me in the face, I caught the staff, seized her by the throat and pulled her head close to mine, glaring. "Take a good look, Sheiko," I growled as her hand sought my throat in retaliation.
        My snarl caught her attention, because the firm grip she had on my throat weakened in a moment. The dark blue mask with white and purple patterns like vines beheld me for a while.
        Ormungadr hissed from the sleeve that held her by the neck. It was confused because of yet another rude awakening.
        "Varus," she said huskily and as hoarsely as she could, and let go of my throat and her staff to grab me by my shoulders. My despair grew even more as I heard her voice. Usually it was sonorous through magickal means, sounding both male and female, so naturally this disturbed me instantly. "Lacon be merciful. You made it after all," the Voice croaked on.
        I raised my eyebrows at my magicker friend's sudden - clutching - display of relief before patting her on the back. She was not making any sense, but of course, I ought to have expected that to be the case. "That would be moot. What do you mean?"
        She was silent for a moment, simply gripping me quietly. "You don't know?" she whispered, turning her head toward the cliff.
        "And that would be teasing, dear Sheiko," I smirked nervously, forcing her off me. "Sit down. Are you hungry?"
        "Not as much as I feel lonely," she mumbled and turned her head approximately in the direction of the food bag I was carrying. "But... yes, I am."
        I handed her the bag, not in the mood to tease her into trading the food for a secret. "Eat sparingly, unless you believe we are about to escape soon."
        Sheiko stared at me for a while, then laughed bitterly as she searched the bag with a hand clad in a black leather. "My friend, you poor old man. We might not leave this place until we die. If even then."
        "Are we going to delve into metamagicks again?" I asked, feeling the cold, clawed hand of fear squeeze my guts. What had she done to me?
        There was some desperate mirth to her masked voice this time. "No, Varus my dear, I think not. I shall make myself painfully clear this time. This is some forsaken layer somewhere so far away, there is no magick in the air to touch and to mould. There's only that which runs in our blood, and that is far from potent enough." She looked at me. "Do you mind looking away while I eat?"
        I nodded and turned. Even then, when it seemed to matter very little, she held on to one of her greatest principles. None were to ever see her face, but there was no religious reason for it, try as you may to find one. As I listened to the sound of cloth chafing against cloth, I said, "There must be something you can do."
        "You think I haven't tried?" she said bitterly. "Which way is Alongshore, pray tell?"
        "Please, I know I cannot Find anything," I sighed, looking at my hands sadly. Angrily. "How did you survive for five moons?"
        There was a pause. "Five moons?" Sheiko said with a touch of dread that immediately clung to me. "It's only been a few days, as far as I can tell, and making the difference is easy. The clouds always disappear, leaving less than half a day of daylight before they appear again after the same volcano erupts, every day. But... what has happened?"
        I digested the news she had given me, then gave her some of my own news. "Spring has turned into summer and autumn creeps near. So only a few days have passed, and you have fasted all that time?"
        "No," she said cautiously. "I've quenched my thirst with snow and eaten what little life there still crawls here. Centipedes do not fill the stomach."
        Yes they do, I thought, picking up a rock. With good amounts of honey and salad.
        A gloved hand wandered in front of my face. "Water?" she asked.
        After giving her the waterskin, I licked my lips. "So you believe we will be stuck here for eternity?"
        Sheiko only made swallowing sounds at first. "There are no winds of magick, Varus. I told you. And no layergates since this is uncharted territory for the Caedaren. For all I know, if time is warped, this may be the past, the present, the future or what should, could or ought to have been."
        Here I must pause, for it just dawned on me that you do not have the tense we have. We Caedaren have for long suspected and known that things could have happened, be happening or happen in a completely different way than we perceive. It is not a very common thing to hear in conversation of two Caedaren, unless, of course, they happen to be savants, philosophers or magickal deviants like Sheiko.
        This actually started its own little school of divining once, but as could be expected, nothing came of it. When anyone asks me why not, I usually tell them that I could be hitting them the next moment or not. Then I ask which one they would prefer: that or what will most likely be. Most choose the latter option, which is the case in point - what can be is what we choose, and a dash of fate.
        Following me? Perfect.
        I mused for a moment, staring at the lava flow and letting her eat in peace. My thoughts wandered fatalistically to my fated arrival and how I had ploughed my way here only to have someone tell me what I already knew.
        Thinking of my arrival reminded me of something. "Did you know there is a rotten Pact Tree some distance away from here?" I asked, wiping a bead of sweat from my face as Ormungadr hissed in confusion while it stared over my shoulder. His behaviour, I remember, was slowly beginning to confuse me.
        Sheiko made a sound. "No, I didn't." She stopped eating, from what I could gather with my ears. Then there was the sound of fabric chafing against the skin again.
        "Is it safe to turn?"
        She ignored the question and remained silent for a while before walking into view. It was not hard to see she was sensing an opportunity - whether or not I was included in this opportunity, I was not certain. One of Sheiko's admirable qualities was the ability to disappear out of harm's way and let others take care of whatever problems there were. "A Pact Tree, Varus? If so, there is a source of magick. Even if it is rotten, there could be something left there."
        I decided to not tell her I knew that. "'Tis a good distance away, unfortunately, and in the darkness. 'Tis also rather cold out there."
        "I know and can manage, thank you," she whispered and turned to stare at me. In the reddish gloom, her robed figure seemed even more haunting than before, even if the robes did not appear to live their own life as they commonly did when she had a stable source of magick. Dramatics, I believe I have said, were a strong point of hers.
        I chewed on a nail and stared back for a while. "We could freeze to death if we do not--"
        She waved her hand to silence me, and I indulged her. "It's quite worth the risk," the Voice croaked on, "because we will die regardless if we do not at least make the attempt. I may well be cut off from magick's all-seeing presence, but I'm most certainly not stupid."
        "But before we go," I started, returning her arrogance, "I believe you owe me an explanation. Why are we here?"
        She fidgeted as the distraction guised as determination melted away. "Varus, I don't..."
        "Still your tongue! 'Tis always the same fable with you," I thundered and stood up, taking a few steps at the unmoving Sheiko. "I have no idea why you are here, or how I came to be here, but I do know that we are both in peril, and right now I demand to know why."
        She gazed upward at me, clutching her staff.
        "Well?" I snapped.
        After a while longer, before I was about to grab her and shake the answer out of her, she spoke, calmly and in a low voice, "My curiosity, old man. I left the festivities because someone called for me for assistance. It was a trap, and whoever had summoned me was already dead."
        Normally I would have asked who had died, but seeing as Sheiko was finally opening the portal to her little house of secrets, it was best to still my own tongue.
        And in any case, I was startled out of my skin when she continued.
        "Before you ask where, it was near Raddenshaw Bay, within old ruins, and things were rather heated when I slipped through the layers.
        "When I arrived, much too late for my liking, a young Caedaren was being turned wrong-side-out by a beastman while a man - clearly a magicker - and a red-haired woman oversaw the ghastly ritual. The short of it is, that as soon as I arrived, the woman and the magicker turned their attention to me. It was really rather stupid of me to barge in without at least thinking first, but the strength of the young one's call was laced with a tint of blood and pain. And despite barging in, I was late.
        "I was surrounded by beastmen wearing Turneau's livery - or, well. They seemed human at first, but it didn't seem quite right, and as I realised why, the illusion dropped. I don't remember much of what happened after that - the magicker and I were both looking for holes in the other's defenses, but then the woman... by Mother, the woman. She terrified me. With one word, she told the magicker to send me to the scenery he saw in his mind, and then, with but a few gestures, he was already being tearing the layers away from under my feet."
        Sheiko paused, coughing. The whispering wore on her voice. "I would have never expected that from a human. I fought against it, but it was too strong - so I clung to you."
        "Clung to me?" I said with a hoarse voice, too baffled by everything to remain angry at her.
        "Not in that manner, Varus," she said with a hint of amusement. "It's the same what I do when I take you away through layers. I Find your presence and hold it close to mine... except, that didn't quite appear to work."
        I shrugged. "I was dead drunk when that must have happened. Mind you, ever since then I have been emptying my guts whenever I needed to slip through the layers."
        Sheiko fell silent, leaving me to stare at her guiltily. I smiled, for once feeling grief. The Bleeder - the Griever - feeling grief. "I am so sorry, old friend. I would have possibly done the same. Would you grace me with forgiveness?"
        She dismissed it with a wave of a hand and looked about. "Tell me what has happened. While we walk," she whispered wearily. "Things must have changed if it's been several moons."
        "They have," I said as I gathered the bags and turned to lead her in the right direction. "An Eye found the same lot you described just recently - and not long after that, Teragon caught wind of the rapscallions. Bloomer Lumbiawe and I had a look at the place, and then decided it was best to take care of it before the Iron Kingdom did. Unfortunately, that did not work out too well."
        Sheiko, who had gone very quiet, stared at me very strangely for a while. I simply continued, too tired to ask what confused her so. "The ruins are currently in Turneau. The magicker flew them there when we assaulted with the help of Mairead's Ravens - if you remember, one of the mercenary groups from Coasthigh - and the local Fistlord."
        "Oh dear," said the diviner as we climbed the hill. After a moment, she asked, very carefully: "Would you mind repeating that in detail?"

        Hours later, we were nearing the edge of total darkness and the red dimness. We had skirted near the battle, which had long since ended, and found only burned skeletons and the stench of fat tossed in fire. To be completely honest with you, it made me hungry - which disgusted me so much, I nearly asked Sheiko to clobber me.
        Of course, she would have said yes, so I smartly kept my lips sealed.
        Somehow I had managed to condense everything so that the major points had been given at least a passing look. Sheiko asked copious questions as well, which helped considerably. She understood as much as she needed when we reached the rock under which I had hidden the cloak. After informing me in very clear terms that she was warm as it was and that she had many, many layers of clothes under her robes (this was teasing, I believe), I finally agreed to keep the fur cloak to myself.
        Things progressed passably from there on, although we were both afraid. Ormungadr fell dormant again, finally ceasing his attempts to get my attention. There were occasions when the snow seemed too much for us, and when either of us or both of us stumbled and fell, because we could not see. Hand in hand, we headed the way I felt was right - at least Finding still worked in this place forsaken by even Father's omnipresent vigilance.
        We reached the camp I had laid waste to, but the embers had been buried under snow. At that stage, Sheiko agreed with me that it had been hoping too much, but that we could always build ourselves a temporary shelter from snow.
        If this surprises you, you disappoint me: it was a nigh impossible task, granted, and the cold was nearly unbearable. That we could not see was even worse. In the end, our shelter was deformed, and we had to use branches to keep us warm. They, at least, did not require assembling instructions.
        Then again, what good are written instructions to a blind man?
        So, things were (again) looking rather glum, but we both saw the bright side. At least we were not about to die alone, though it was a rather embarrassing end for two old hands. At least I was dying next to a woman.
        "I have to ask you," Sheiko croaked into my ear after we had discussed how we were going to be missed by the distillers and treetenders. "You sounded as if this Lumbiawe meant something to you."
        The only thing I could think of doing in that situation was to chuckle. My fault for talking to a woman who could interpret tones and gestures with eerie precision. "I had thought myself immune to her charm, that is all. 'Twas actually incredibly amusing when she suddenly developed a spine, but I may have encouraged her too much." I stared where her voice came from. "May I ask a question?"
        "That's one," she whispered.
        I disregarded that one. "You are a woman, are you not?"
        And there was silence.
        "I can smell it," I added. "Men do not smell as lovely."
        The next thing I heard was Sheiko stifling her laughter. "How do you know they don't, Varus? And if that was coquetting..."
        "And you make it sound as if I am a philander. I suspect you merely amuse yourself by teasing everyone with that play of yours."
        Reading the silence as contemplation from her part, I waited. Then: "If I'm right, Varus, it's important that you don't know. It's not for me anymore - it's for you. When the time comes, you will understand."
        Her words accomplished two things. Firstly, I was confused. And secondly, I felt there was hope again. It was vague hope, and I was not entirely certain if it could be trusted, but at that moment I would have welcomed even the hope of being verbally grilled by Nyanvara.
        "I hope you comprehend that you may have turned my curiosity into a driving goal," I noted dryly.
        "I did? Oh. Good."
        We were going to continue the banter, but something stopped us before I could continue. From between the trees, there was firelight, but it seemed to be at a higher level than I would have expected it. As it approached, we began to see that it was not quite what we had anticipated. Flaming riders on burning horses, chasing the silhouette of a sturdily built man with a ram's head helmet. At first, I thought the riders were lucky to stay on their mounts, but then I saw that melting snow was being blown away by a powerful wind. It was slow enough to allow the man to stay at a safe distance, although I wondered: exactly how fast was that man running?
        I groaned, already missing the sorcerors and magickers at home. At least I knew how to kill them.
        "Do you think we should help him?" Sheiko asked after she understood the situation.
        I glanced at her, noticing that there was a faint yellowish shine from under the mask where the eyes were. "Help him?" I asked, shaking snow off the branches covering most of me. "It appears that we will have to help ourselves, soon."
        The magicker thought for a while. "Well, they are coming our way."
        "Well observed," I replied sarcastically. In retaliation, she elbowed me. For a magicker, she certainly had ample strength.
        But she was right that they were coming in our direction, which was cause for some concern. Getting out of the way would be hard, due to a certain magicker who moved in the snow about as gracefully as a chicken at deep sea.
        (Before you ask where that one came from, I would just like to point out that on the way Captain Chambers wanted to introduce a few sea raiders to Sister Sea. I had to save the chicken. For my plate. This amused Tanderlain immensely.)
        "I suppose asking you to calmly run away is not going to work?" I said to Sheiko, unsheathing my sword.
        "Normally, maybe," she said and took a few light swings with the staff. "Right now, you old cur? You might as well ask me to melt this icy hell."
        "Well, then I suppose we will have to hide in plain sight," I sighed, leading her behind a nearby tree. It is quite natural for riders to not notice anything in the night when riding with some sort of light source. Even footmen have this problem, and I shall not lie - even we anardes find this problematic.
        Standing there behind the tree I realised the fleeing man (I shall refer to him as Horns from now on) had apparently seen where he was going to some extent, despite the deep darkness. My suspicions were confirmed when he passed us, because he certainly saw me, but I had no time to follow this observation.
        The bastard stopped where the campfire had been. The burning riders did not run him through, to my horror, but instead circled him. I was forced to grab Sheiko by the arm and drag her around to the other side of the tree.
        And naturally, she resisted. "Varus! We can't leave him there!" she hissed in that vague voice again, forcing me to glare at her.
        "I did not come here to die," I snarled back, hearing the first sound of steel hitting steel. "Did you?"
        "Do you think they will be satisfied with his death? They did see us."
        I stared at her silently. "You lie."
        She turned her head slightly. "If you were to look over your shoulder..."
        I did. One of the four riders was not looking like it was about to introduce Horns to its sword. It was instead staring at us. I gazed back, eyes squinted. Deep in the flames, I thought I could see a skull and some metal blackened by the flames. The heat coming from these four had already melted much of the snow in the clearing, and I thought I could feel some of the heat from where I stood.
        "You see too much," I told her, sword poised and eyes fixed on the rider. "Fine."
        So I was in the fray again, all of the sudden. The rider kindly did not move his horse at all and simply waited for me to get close, but I was going to disappoint it. I was not in the mood to tackle the creature the normal way.
        So I cut its horse's leg off. The beast was hardly alive, after all.
        It never rose from the snow bank again. Certes, it did roll about for a while, but the snow put it out rather quickly.
        It was a short battle, and once more, I would have wounds that would need some time to heal. Mostly it was my head, ringing from a blow from a mailed, burning fist straight into my temple from the second rider I engaged with. I also acquired a new scar on my eyebrow - the fist almost set my eyebrow and hair on fire -, and my already aching left forearm was set on fire when I lashed out with it at my opponent's head. My wounds were superficial, but they ached as burns usually do.
        Thankfully, Sheiko gave the rider a taste of her staff, knocking it off the horse to our mercy. Before we could get ready for another rider, we realised there were none to fight against - except for Horns.
        He was leaning against a tree, panting, staring at us as if he saw us perfectly in the half-darkness. The three remaining horses had fled, while the fourth was lying on the ground motionlessly, the flames surrounding it slowly dying.
        "Can we trust him?" Sheiko mumbled into my ear as we measured each other.
        "You can," the grim but smiling human replied, as if he had heard every word. He sheathed his sword and placed his arms on his hips. "I owe you a favour, I see. I also see you have found your friend - I suppose you are returning to your master soon?"
        Sheiko was silent, staring at him attentively and leaving me to deal with Horns. I was surprised myself, considering he understood our mother tongue and spoke it himself. Although, thinking about it, I am quite certain he spoke Viklandish at the same time. And Anglyss.
        "Master?" I repeated, sheathing my own sword with a wince. "You are mistaken, warrior. We have no master. We are here alone, and because of our own folly."
        "Or mine, rather," Sheiko added with a guilty glance toward me. "But we still do not serve a master."
        Outwardly concerned, Horns chewed on this, stroking his beard. Then he glanced at the dead demon horse. "I shouldn't be awfully surprised, should I? Bah. I owe one of my lives to you fae... but what brings you to my prison?"
        We Caedaren stared at him momentarily. We did not quite know how to tell this man neither of us appreciated being called 'faeries', so instead, we had to say something else. "Accidental folly," Sheiko croaked, summing it up quite nicely. "How is this your prison?"
        Horns laughed. "It must be a prison - I used to think it was what remained, a memory of what was. I don't know if this means anything to you, or if your people have already forgotten most everything." He babbled while he stared at us. "I'm alive, and so the prophecy has to be flawed... before you two showed up, I thought this must be all there is. Tell me, how is the new Golden Age? How fare the children?"
        "Children? I take it you are not referring to the midnight children. All in all, things are rather dismal, I would say," I sniffed, confused - and ultimately, curious. "There is certainly nothing golden about it."
        The warrior frowned and set his jaw, looking at Sheiko for a moment. "What is there? Surely not fire and ice?"
        "Oh, deceit, machinations and whatnot. The old droll business where you can be certain someone backstabs you."
        Horns was silent again, chewing on a bit of his beard, and I saw no reason to cause him more worry. Whatever it was that managed to upset him so much, I was not going to poke at it - for some reason, I was more afraid of him than I was curious. After all, the man had dispatched two of the fiery riders while we had struggled against even odds.
        It was Sheiko that broke the silence. "What is this place? It seems to repeat itself."
        "Mhm? Oh, it does," Horns groaned. "Every damn day the same pattern. A few hours of sunlight until old Muspel explodes, spitting out its guts with smoke that covers the sun. Before too long, I'm running away from this merry bunch of human torches. I usually have a pattern where I lead them here where a couple of those giant's aft warts camp and have them weaken each other for a while. After I'm done with that, I eat, relax and wait for the clouds to disappear. After this it begins again."
        I admit that I blinked a considerable amount throughout this litany. "And my appearance did not startle you?"
        "Oh, it did. But when you were harmless, I just thought you were another part of this nightmare. Of course, when you weren't screaming for my blood, I was a little taken aback. Now that I have met both of you, I know better."
        Sheiko was silent again, probably making her own conclusions about these things. It was always a certain sign that something was going on behind the mask that left her hair uncovered.
        When neither of us said nothing again, Horns, who seemed to be glad to finally get to talk with someone other than himself, shrugged and walked over to the horse. "Do you have anymore food, by the way? I usually eat what... oh. I thought the sack you had looked familiar."
        I stirred, suddenly remembering the cold and the pain again. "Oh. Quite. Yes, I do, and yes, I did dance a short dance with the two... creatures. We might as well all have a meal, then - if these creatures indeed do come back tomorrow..."
        Horns mumbled something, glaring at the still slightly flaming horse corpse. "I'd hesitate to call it tomorrow... oh, damn it." He reached up to a low branch, snapping it off too easily for my liking. Sheiko and I exchanged glances.
        "Don't be afraid," Horns said, putting the branch in the dying flames of the horse carcass. "I owe you, and I don't believe in backstabbing. The other of the two here had an axe..."
        As I understood what he was after, I nodded, sighed and looked to Sheiko, wondering why she was staring at Horns so intently. I knew her powers were gone, but even I could sense there was something strange about Horns. He was a beacon in the darkness, but I could not tell what it was that made him seem so.
        All in all, he was a likable chap. And very lonely. Neither Sheiko or I had to encourage him to talk.
        After we had built up a decent fire (because of which I had savaged a tree in a barbaric manner), we sat there on the branches Sheiko and I had used as cover from the elements. We had time to discuss many things - or rather, Sheiko and Horns did. Myself, I was half-dozing, my head on Sheiko's shoulder. She smelled of sweat and dirt, but I certainly didn't mind the warmth.
        "My lord," I heard Sheiko begin softly after they had been discussing the things she had seen during the time she had been here, "I realise we haven't introduced ourselves, and you haven't introduced yourself. I am Sheiko and this old scoundrel here is Varus."
        Whereas I was surprised (in a groggy way) that Sheiko had opted for a simple, first name introduction, Horns merely chuckled. "It doesn't matter much. You may call me Ramshead. I wasn't called exactly that, but it will do. Sheiko, may I ask you a question?"
        "You may," she answered, sounding perhaps a bit amused.
        "What is the world like?"
        "Ah. You ask difficult questions, Ramshead. How can I describe it? Colourful, lush, frigid, cold, hot - full of wonders, unlike this world."
        Ramshead snorted. "I'd hesitate to call this a world."
        "Really? It is alive, but only as if it was living in death. There is no magick to twist and to turn."
        "Magick? Ah, you speak of witchcraft. In a way, there is nothing... and there is."
        "I know. In the blood. That is not nearly enough. If it were, I would have broken out of this prison of ours days ago."
        There was a pause as Ramshead considered something. "I am no witch or shaman, Sheiko, but I know that the family had strong blood. We are walking on the foundation of what was. Most of it was destroyed."
        "What was?"
        "It's gone, Sheiko. No more. The frozen corpses of my kinsmen are still here, and so is the Tree, but that is that - these are the ruins of my world, although I suspect even this is but a memory. Yet, I have a little something left from those days, but it's only a little piece of what was. The one thing I'm certain is real - would you like to see it?"
        It chilled me (even more than the cold) that he could talk of the Tree so casually and freely. "I certainly would not mind the entertainment," I mumbled and opened my eyes, smiling at the fire. Ramshead had taken his helmet off, and was currently scratching the scar on his forehead. He still seemed to be the embodiment of vigilance, but also sombre and considerably more human without the helmet. Ruggedly handsome, even, although that specific type is not very popular among our kind.
        Sheiko shrugged. "If it's no bother."
        Somehow, it seemed as if Ramshead detected the curiosity in her voice and our stances. He only smirked and reached inside his collar to fish out a large silver locket.
        It was a piece of a rainbow that shone in the dark. Sheiko and I did not attempt to mask our fascination - especially since we both felt a pull toward it.
        "Good Mother. That is extraordinary indeed," I remarked, also noting (though only to myself) how the area brightened considerably. Could this be why Ramshead saw in the dark?
        "Thank you," Ramshead replied, staring at it. "It's a sore reminder of defeat, but I suppose in my defense I can say that it was an honest defeat. Most everyone died, but not before a great fight." The man seemed pensive for a while, dangling the rainbow pendant in front of his scarred, lined face.
        I mused about how honest he seemed, and how it appeared as if he truly did not mind anything but the suffering he had been subjected to. "And you survived it, I see."
        "In my own way," the warrior grunted and offered the pendant to Sheiko, who's hands were shaking. Not a word had been uttered by her for a moment, as was of course usual of her, but there was a tension to her. She brushed the pendant's rainbow piece with her hand briefly, pulling her fingers back almost immediately. Before Ramshead could encourage her more, the poor oracle grabbed the silver part like a starving man would clutch a loaf of dry bread.
        "Blessed be," said Sheiko in an even more choked voice than earlier. "It's beautiful, Ramshead."
        He chuckled, clearly falling into a state of nostalgia. "It's nothing compared to what it was before the great battle. I spent many a night staring down it, and many a day, too."
        "Where was the battle, then? You speak as if it was an important thing, and you mentioned a prophecy as well. And the family."
        Ramshead frowned, looking as if he was going to withdraw all the information he had been so forthcoming with. "It's a flawed prophecy. We were the rulers and creators of this world, or at least some of us were, and ever since the dawn of our times, we followed a prophecy. It was undone in the end, it seems. Only some were to survive - I was not to be one of them." He took a sip from the waterskin. "Still, somehow, I ended up here. Certainly, I was gutted and most surely dead, but - I did not die. Not a clue why."
        I nodded and digested this, drawing closer to Sheiko, who had not taken her eyes off the pendant for a while. Neither had she moved an inch. "Sheiko?"
        Ramshead turned to look at her now, too, but we had to stare for a few moments more until Sheiko turned to look at first Ramshead, then at me. "Gentlemen," she said finally, "I think I know how we can get home. But, well - Ramshead? How fond are you of this?"
        "Eh. Not overtly much," he said, although uncertainly, making me worry that he was more attached to it than was currently acceptable. "If you can use it to get me out of here with you, I honestly won't lament the loss of something I have been stuck with for ages."
        With a fleeting glance at the entranced Sheiko, I sniffed out. "Well, then no tarrying, please."
        "You honestly think we're going to get somewhere without freezing ourselves to death, Varus?" Sheiko asked hoarsely and closed the pendant in her hand, staring at Ramshead, who in turn gazed at her hand worriedly.
        "True," I admitted, but did not surrender. "However, if Ramshead and I were to walk you a path, I suppose we could manage that."
        "I need rest, Varus," she gurgled suddenly, startling both myself and the tough man I was not certain I could trust. Of course, he seemed to have honourable intentions, but alas, not all men are as they seem to be...
        There was silence for a while. "And I must understand how to do this, first," she said, breaking the silence.
        "Fine," I said agitatedly. "But we shall have to drag the fire elsewhere for the night. How long does the night last?"
        Ramshead contemplated for a while. "A few more hours. I can take watch if you want."
        I was not willing to trust him entirely, but the facts remained - he  needed us. One can always trust a man who needs you. Maybe even a woman, too, but unless Ramshead was hiding something under all that muscle and unwashed furs, I was willing to trust his despair.
        (Amanda, this not to say I do not trust your despair - you are reading still, and your despair is of a different quality. Sidenote: Ottaviano, dear boy, if you think she will get upset over that one, please give her the other version of this page. I do not fancy being beaten up by your wife.)
        "I would rather have two swords for those two when wake up," I murmured and motioned toward the corpses the appearance of the flameriders had revealed again.
        "No, this is a safe place. They only show up some time during the day. Sheiko, will you sleep?"
        "Well --" I began, but was cut short.
        "No."
        I twitched. Her voice was sonorous again, echoing, booming, coming from the general area of her head. Ramshead gaped at her, signalling that the mask had begun faintly mirroring the surroundings again.
        "No reason to act so surprised, old charmer," Sheiko said in amusement, "I told you: I know the way home. To the Tree is where we will go, but give me time to think this over. I don't have my books and I don't have my aides, so this will take a while."
        I shared a glance with Ramshead, who was looking slightly worried.
        
        I woke up on the suddenly snowless ground that was lit by the rays of the sun and to a question posed by a revitalised Sheiko. Ramshead looked the same as ever, although there was a longing in his eyes. Expectant, yet slightly impassive - not nervous. This was Ramshead, smiling at us gruffly, his helmet covering half of his face. It was soothing to watch someone used to waiting stare at the horizon.
        Come to think of it, he had been waiting for a long time. First for the battle he seemed to hold almost sacred, and then after it.
        "Well, gentlemen. Shall we?" Sheiko asked perkily, the mask mirroring both of us. She was positively crackling with power as magickers often do, but this time there was something terrifyingly powerful about it. Last night I could see how she radiated in the dark. Not that I told Ramshead. There was no reason to, since he seemed rather confused by the discovery of my volatile magicker friend's true nature. Most likely he had noticed it by himself.
        I grew more worried of Ramshead when we reached the hill from where on my travels had become a journey in the dark. We stood on it, staring down into the vast valley that was littered with stinking, half-decomposed corpses.
        We had seen the Tree from afar, but looking from the hill, it seemed even huger. Some roots that pushed from the ground were in pieces, and the river still looked as ugly as it had been yesterday. The smell of the sea floated from far away, and again, I thought I saw something humongous far in the distance.
        A sudden loud, thundering boom startled both Sheiko and I. Ramshead, who was glaring bitterly at the corpses, did not seem at all surprised.
        "Muspel does that," he said and shrugged. "An hour, and it will be dark again."
        I was not about to argue with his timekeeping. He had been trapped there for a much longer time than us. "Do we have an hour, Sheiko?"
        The Voice hummed thoughtfully. "It makes no difference if it's dark or light. I know how to get home."
        "You keep saying that," I noted dryly. "'Tis rather depressing."
        "To you, good Varus, maybe," Ramshead replied and headed down the hell. "Come. The faster we get out of here, the happier I shall be."
        After a shrug and a glance at the mirroring face inside a hood, I sighed. "Well, I agree. 'Tis simply that..."
        "Stow it, Varus," she told me in a jovial tone, "there is nothing to worry about."
        I hoped so, but I was still afraid. Ramshead seemed to worry.
        Then I wondered if I would have to kill him, too. But these thoughts abated as we arrived to the Tree and everyone stuck to doing what seemed natural at the moment. For Sheiko, that meant magick. For me? Ogling at the monstrous beasts that had gaping wounds all over them and generally moping at a very smug Sheiko. Ramshead, on the other hand, was busy collecting the corpses of the humans near the Tree.
        It was when Ramshead had finally managed to collect all of his dead comrades and he had run out of things to do that matters started boiling.
Sheiko had been busy walking around the Tree with the pendant hanging from her neck and lighting her way in the already thickening snow cover. She had done so twice during the two hours (Ramshead had an impeccable sense of time, and he made this clear), but she had not exactly been dramatic about her magick. She had simply walked, her head bowed. The only signs of something actually taking place were the telltale, tingling sensations of magick.
        The grizzly warrior addressed her when she was about to start her third lap. "Sheiko?"
        I sat on a rock, near where I had landed, and stared at the headless ravens glumly. Ramshead had not touched them for some reason.
        "Yes, Ramshead?"
        The pause made me extremely nervous. Sheiko halted to meditate on whatever she was about to do, and this was when Ramshead asked the fateful question. His tone was that of a man who was very worried about something. "What will happen to the pendant?"
        "Well - I have to confess. I don't know. It could melt, or it could disappear, or it could remain as it is." The magicker shrugged.
        "Sad," he said after a moment of consideration, turning at me a look that made me flinch. "Are you really that afraid of me, Varus?"
        I took my hand off my sword's hilt. "More nervous than anything. This pendant did not have any significance to you not a moment ago."
        He scowled, offended. "I told you I'll not lay one finger on either of you. If you're questioning my--"
        I lifted my hands in a gesture to cut him off. "No offense, good Ramshead. But you do seem anxious," I explained. "I am not insinuating that you will attack us out of attachment to the jewellery, but please. Think quickly, for Sheiko cannot hold her magick for long." I lied, but there was nobody to tell him so; my friend, thankfully, kept the secret.
        She was standing still and waiting, head turned toward the both of us and apparently ready to return to crafting.
        The man scowled still. "Fine," he said. "But will this spell be fast enough to avoid the riders?"
        "The ritual," Sheiko amended, "could actually call for those riders if we cannot light a fire otherwise... but no, we have no need for them. It will be fast enough. I need to walk around the Tree once more."
        How is it that people can, with a few words, give me bad preminitions?
        "Why?" asked Ramshead.
        As if on cue, I lit my pipe nonchalantly, then shook my hand until the little flame disappeared. Never mind the fact there was no external source of magick, my inner reserves seemed quite enough to handle the little cantrip. "Funeral pyre?"
        (I can see this will confuse you, Ottaviano, but I never told you could not perform little cantrips. I have had time to learn something at least.)
        "Yes," Sheiko answered, sounding slightly embarrassed as she created a ball of fire the size of her finger tip on her palm. She had more control over it than I did. "This time it may not be in vain to give your kinsmen a proper burial, Ramshead. What harm will it do, in any case?"
        "I was considering it," Ramshead said bitterly, glaring at both of us, and waved Sheiko off. She quelled the flame and began to walk on around the Tree again, not seeming to mind his behaviour at all. "Although I still believe it will do little good... Varus, can I ask you to help me with this?"
        Seeing no reason not to, I aided him in the task. We never said anything to each other. Gathering the bodies was not nice, as you might imagine, considering they stank. And - as I write this, I trust you will not make fun of this - no matter how many corpses I have seen, I still do not like to stare at them too closely. Or smell them. How Ramshead managed to embrace them with a straight face when we had laid them in a row and lined the row with enough rocks to stop the fire, I cannot construe.
        It was even worse when we started burning them. It took me a few attempts, but I managed to get the pyre lit anyway.
        By then, as we were sitting and watching the pyre burn in melancholy (I missed home, Ramshead the past and his comrades), Sheiko walked to us. The crackling sensation about her had intensified to the point where Ramshead was not the only one ogling at her.
        At the point where a person leaves rainbow colours on the ground where she has stepped, even the humble author is stunned.
        I looked over to the Tree and traced with my eyes the path she had walked. There was the path and her three paths of footsteps. Only then did I realise the pattern she had walked. It was like a braid, and a very evenly done at that to my further astonishment. I saw that she had also managed to put dots around the braided paths where one path went over the other. For something improvised, it looked very potent. And for some reason, Sheiko's mirroring mask appeared distorted as if she was smiling.
        "Are you ready?" she echoed to Ramshead and offered the sombre warrior her hand. "I am uncertain whether or not you will find yourself in the same place I will find myself, or where Varus will find himself..."
        "Oh, lovely," I groaned. "And if I drop into the Hole in the Sea?"
        "You like swimming, don't you?" Sheiko asked charmingly and then proceeded to ignore me while I chortled.
        So charmingly, I wondered why I hadn't realised it before. Grumbling to myself mentally, I ignored it and turned to glare at the darkened skies and the snow. Her timing could not have been better: the storm was again growing.
        "How?" Ramshead asked, staring at the Tree. "You make it seem so easy."
        "Ah, but that is the trick, isn't it?" Sheiko said and led him toward the gigantic Pact Tree. I noticed the pendant was nowhere to be seen, buy kept quiet. Instead I sniffed out my protest for being left unattended and followed them.
        Every step toward the paths that made one knotted path or three unending repeating crossroads sent shivers up my spine. Ramshead's shoulders were tense enough for me to hear the protest of the old leather and furs he was wearing, but Sheiko only seemed to bask in the sensation of tingling cold and hot mixed together.
        As I crossed the path or paths myself, I began to see stars, and I stumbled after them into the tree...
        And fell again, only this time I tumbled down a rainbow bridge in the darkness, both of which went on for a good while too long for my tastes. At some point I managed to stop rolling down, but the speed at which I was still sliding down the bridge had me wincing. Even more so the fact that I could see two other rainbow bridges go into different directions and that I could not see Ramshead or Sheiko.
        "Oh, bother," I managed, checking to see what Ormungadr's situation was. The poor serpent was tangled on the underside of my sleeve, protesting furiously to the treatment he was being given.
        "You and I both, Twinkle," I muttered, realising that my pipe was still in my mouth. (Which was of course a good thing. I liked that one.)
        Suddenly I felt a cold current of air, and saw a glimpse of bright, bright white before I fell into it and sank into deep snow.
        Falling, it seemed, was fast becoming a pattern for me.

We were stargazing earlier today. Hours past, I feel I cannot omit this bit. You may well call it instinct, or a reference to the foreword in this batch of paper.
        "Varus?" Ottaviano asked abruptly as we adjusted the telescope together. This is to say that I was turning the lever with both hands while he stared into the scope. The typical way work between us was split. "What did you mean about Ramshead's casual mentioning of the Tree?"
        "Simply that," I grunted as I worked the lever, too distracted by the toil to answer.
        The ruler of Dondrea laughed politely. "You're hiding something."
        "And your magicks told you this?"
        "Maybe. Or maybe it is because I know for a fact that not even your Pact Trees carry enough strength to allow for anything so drastic. Especially if they're rotten. And that..."
        "Dubitable? My. My. Then I must be lying, hmm?"
        "That is what I said, correct?" he said in a distracted tone, frowning as he gazed through the mirrors.
        I smiled brightly at His Majesty and wiped sweat off my brow. "Well, I am exceedingly glad that we settled that, then. But you see, whether or not I lied, you shall never know for certain - I seriously doubt you would like to employ your magickal arts on someone who has yet to finish his tale."
        "Oh."
        "And furthermore, can you be certain you did everything right? You are on to something, I will tell you this - but. You do not know what happened with the Tree."
        "That's obvious."
        "Neither do I. But I will tell you what came next..."