Chapter 13: The Reaper

     "Right here in Conquests of the Great Empire there's a reference to a journal – supposedly kept by Imperator Leiwenend himself – where there's a description of the physical appearance and habits of the Teuthanurae." She put the new tome in front of Frayg and sat in the chair next to his. "Right here:"

          Teuthanurae are about the size of a man, but of greater girth. Their skin 

     is much like that of a salamander and varies in color from green grey to 

     almost black. They have short limbs with long fingers that end in suckers

     much like those of an octopus. Their heads are broad at the top, ending in 

     a toothy proboscis at the bottom. Their most unnerving feature is their lack 

     of eyes. Indeed, in the place where a man's eyes would be are instead a 

     pair of tentacles.

          They are known to feed on other intelligent creatures, including humans, 

     Aelwyn and Dvergar. They particularly crave the eyes and the brains, 

     which they get at through the ocular cavities using their versatile snouts.

          It is said that the Teuthanurae are practiced in the manner of dark rituals 

     and use these abilities to bewitch their prey, putting them in a trance state, 

     thus allowing them to feed without the resistance of the prey. Parties of 

     Teuthanurae have been known to hunt and capture other races to use 

     as labor and for a ready source of food.

          Leiwenend wrote that on his first encounter with the Teuthanurae he 

     lost nearly half his troops, even though his forces outnumbered theirs 

     by more than three to one. He later writes of making a treaty with the  

     king of the Teuthanurae, named Pazsquo. In the agreement, a certain 

     number of  humans would be sent to their capital of Kerasis annually to 

     use for their own purposes, and one fifth that number of Teuthanurae 

     would be sent to serve as trainers in dark rituals and as the Imperator's 

     personal bodyguard.

     "That's … unbelievable." Frayg looked up from the book. "This doesn't sound like mere folk legend to me. It seems as though these things may have really existed!"

     "Bear in mind that the book you hold there is only just over a hundred years old, but the events it's describing would have happened nearly two thousand years ago."

     "Yes, but these things were written down even back then weren't they?"

     "Probably. Leiwenend may well have kept a journal, but stories grow with the telling. Also, the language you and I are speaking now didn't exist then. The letters we now use to write would have been different then, too."

     "So … language doesn't just change from region to region, but over time, as well?"

     "Exactly. There's a whole branch of study in historical languages."

     Frayg scratched his head. "Well there's something I never knew."

     "Of course you didn't. You've never needed to … which leads me to a question I didn't ask the Dvergar: Why are you so interested in Teuthanurae?"

     "Hmm? Well, it has to do with a crime that was committed in the Wall Street District a couple of nights ago. I don't think I should tell you any more than that."

      Zaria's eyes narrowed and her mouth twisted into a sideways frown. "Is that so?"

     "Yes. I really think I should keep the details quiet."

     "So, you want me to help you research something that I'd wager you've never even heard of until the last day or two, but you're not willing to tell me why?"

     "Exactly."

     "That hardly seems fair."

     "I'm a Watchman. I don't need to be fair." He laughed.

     "Fine then, you're on your own from here on out." She stood up and began gathering up the books and scrolls from the table.

     "Wait! I need those."

     "That's too bad. If you want me to help with your investigation, you're going to have to trust me."

     "All right," Frayg sighed "but you have to promise me you won't tell anyone about this, all right?"

     "Agreed." She dropped the materials back on the table and sat down again. "This is about that … that man that was sent into The Dream isn't it? The one at that inn?"

     "News really does travel fast, doesn't it? I have to warn you, some of the details are pretty gruesome – you might not want to know all of it."

     Zaria's face grew pale and she put her hands to her mouth. "You're going to tell me that that fellow's eyes were missing, aren't you? Oh, by the Invincible Lord of Light … you were going to leave until I mentioned …" She gasped. "His brains. Something ate his brains, didn't it?"

     "Well, I don't know about ate. But yes, they were gone, too."

     "So, you think that somehow the Teuthanurae have returned?"

     "I don't know. I think it's pretty unlikely that a legendary race of evil beings that have been gone so long most people have forgotten they even existed would suddenly make their presence known in one of the largest cities in the world."

     "That's true." She relaxed a bit. "Besides, I don't think they would stop with one person in an inn. From the research I've done, they'd be more likely to conquer a whole city using Dark Magicks, although, there is one thing, hmm …" She trailed off.

     "What?"

     "Well, according to this other volume …" She reached across the table for another book that was in a strange writing that Frayg didn't understand. She opened it and began muttering unintelligibly.

     "Well, what? What book is that?"

     "It's called Sklerwantes fon di Finstirniss – It means Servants of the Dark. It's written in a very old dialect of Ancient Palonian "

     "And you can read it?"

     "Not very well, I'm afraid. I could probably get Professor Belsen to translate it, but he'd ask questions."

     "Let's just see what you can make of it for now."

     "Yes … here it is. I saw this the other day." She began translating, stopping and starting as she came to difficult words or phrases: "Some say the force … I guess they mean power … of the masters … some really old texts refer to the Teuthanurae as 'the masters' – I think it was a name they had for themselves … relied on the usage of tvarken. Without the tvarken, their force was made small … diminished, I guess … or sometimes like the breath of death. I'm pretty sure that expression 'breath of death' was used to represent the concept of nothingness."

     "So what does that mean? What's a tvarken?

     "The tvarken are what hat we now call witch crystals."

     "So, you mean … the Teuthanurae derived their power from … the … the Unnamed?"

     "That's certainly how the Temple would put it. I doubt that's how the Imperials would have seen it, though. The truth is, no one really knows –" She cut herself off mid-sentence. "Um. What I mean to say is yes. 'The witch crystals are used to channel power from the Unnamed. But this power is naught next to the power of the Lord of Invincible Light.'"

     Frayg chuckled and gave Zaria a reassuring grin. "Don't worry yourself. I'm a Watchman, not a Temple Inquisitor: you don't have to cite verses to me."

     "You ... won't report me?"

     "No. Let me tell you a secret: half the people in this city don't buy into half of what the Temple would have us believe. Why do you think there are still so many churches and shrines to the 'Aspects' and not  only Temples of Light?"

     "I assumed because people are slow in letting go of their Old Gods. "

     "Exactly. The Temple would love nothing more than to see all of those Aspect Shrines torn down and minor temples put in their place, but the Temple is patient. They're willing to wait out the beliefs of the common folk and absorb them into their own teachings."

     "I see ... and once they have the people in the Temple, they'll slowly eliminate the old ways."

     "You're a quick learner."

     "Top of my class!"

     "But you're wise to be cautious. I wouldn't discuss such ideas too openly."

     "Ordinarily I don't. Things are different here at the college – professors encourage us to think about every possibility when we're discussing an issue. There's an unspoken rule what we say here doesn't leave here."

     "It's nice to know there is at least one place where unorthodox ideas aren't a crime."

     "You're a strange man."

     "How so?"

     "Well, as a Watchman you're supposed to uphold the law. The Temple of the Invincible Light is the official religion of Palonias now, so their decrees carry the force of law, don't they?"

     "Temple law is different. I'm sworn to uphold the King's Justice. The royal family of Palonias has changed, and so has the religious authority, but the oaths I took pre-date the adoption of Universalism by close to three hundred years."

     "So ... you're not a Universalist, then?"

     "Of course I am." Frayg grinned mischievously. "All subjects of Palonias are Universalists. It's just ... well, let's say some of us are more comfortable with our conversion than others."

     Zaria laughed. "I see."

     "Back to the witch crystals. This says that Teuthanurae need these crystals, or their power is weak or vanishes?"

     "Something like that. As near as I can tell."

     "So if one of these things really is lurking about, it would be pretty powerless, unless it found one of the crystals."

     "And every known crystal has been destroyed by the Temple."

     "But what if there were an unknown source of these crystals? Where did they even come from, anyway? Originally, I mean ... before the Temple started confiscating and destroying them?"

     "Supposedly the raw materials were simply found in caverns and deposits alongside regular quartz crystals, like amethyst, citrine, onyx and clear quartz."

     "If they're so common, , how in the world does the temple expect to eradicate all of them?"

     "To start, they're not that common. They're found with common crystals, but very rarely. Also, the raw crystals have to be identified and then treated. And there are supposed to be special rituals or processes that need to be done before their power is usable."

     "What sort of processes?"

     "That, unfortunately, I can't tell you. The secrets of fashioning witch crystals are lost. Most of those who knew them were put to Trial by the Holy Inquisitors. Anyone else who might know anything about that surely wouldn't discuss it publicly. They would keep the secret, or be in hiding somewhere far from Palonias."

     "The Temple seems to think there are witches hiding in every cupboard and wood shed."

     "I suspect that's just in the interests of job security," she laughed.

     "You're probably right about that," he agreed. "Listen, is there anything else you can tell me about that Dvergar?"

     "Yes. When he got deep into his research, he took off his coat. Under that he wore a grubby vest with no shirt. He had a tattoo on his arm. It was a face of some kind: sort of an oval with rectangular eyes and mouth. The eyes had long lines under them, like tear streaks or something – like the face was crying. Or maybe it was supposed to be an actor's mask. Whatever it was, something about it made my flesh creep."

     "Could you draw it for me?"

     "I'm no artist, but it was a fairly simple depiction. Just a moment." She went across the room to a supply cabinet which she opened and retrieved a pen, a bottle of ink and a scrap of parchment. She returned and drew a copy of the tattoo. "It was maybe not exactly like that, but it's pretty close. If you show it to anyone who's seen the tattoo, they'll make the connection."

     "Very good. Thank you, Zaria."

     "You're welcome Captain. I have one favor to ask you, though."

     "I can't promise anything, but ask away."

     "If you find out anything more about this case, and especially anything about the Teuthanurae, will you let me know?"

     "Gladly."

Chapter 12: The Cellar

     Owerst Nandliss strode purposefully out to the campfire in front of the garden house. The workers were finishing their breakfast, sharpening their axes and otherwise preparing for the day's work ahead of them.

     "Good morning, Gentlemen." Several of them looked up from their business. "I'm looking for the fellow in charge here."

     One of the men pointed over his shoulder to the garden house. Nandliss recognized the accent of the Eccoscian lower classes in his speech. "Ya wanna talk ta Greimz. He's tha man in charge har'bout."

     "Thank you, good sir."

     "Ayuh. But arnt no sar." The man grinned up at him with a mouth that contained about half the usual compliment of teeth.

     Nandliss approached the house and let himself inside. The front door opened to a narrow hall with a doorway directly ahead and a door to either side of the entrance, staggered down its length. He could hear voices coming from the other end of the hall, so he went straight to the back doorway and into a small dining kitchen. Around a table with a large map on it sat three men: Rikard and two strangers. One of the strangers was a short, stocky human, the other an Aelf. The three of them went silent as soon as he entered.

     "Ah, Rikard! A good morning to you."

     "And to you, Owerst Nandliss." Rikard stood and bowed. The other two men merely looked at him.

     "I'm here to speak to the head of the camp. I assume one of these two gentlemen?"

     "Yes, it's Master Greimz here," Rikard indicated the human. "We were just planning the work for today."

     "Pleased to meet you both," Nandliss bowed to each of them in turn. "Unusual to see one of the Alpenfolk here. I'm honored."

     The Aelf and the man both stood and returned the Owerst's bow. The Aelf spoke first: "And I am honored to meet you, Owerst. Tales of your deeds precede you."

     "Is there something we can do to help you, sir?" asked Greimz.

     "I just had a few questions about the goings-on here."

     "I'm sure Master Greimz will be happy to answer them," said Rikard, "But please bear in mind that there's much work to be done. The Countess wants these trees gone as soon as possible."

     "Ah yes. It seems a shame to destroy an entire forest on such a whim, but I suppose it is her property to do with as she will."

     "It is."

     "I'll be brief, then."

     "Thank you, Owerst."

     "How long have you been working this wood?"

     "Rikard hired us about three weeks ago."

     "How well do you know your team?"

     "Dael here has been working with me for six or seven years now, some of the other men even longer. Most of them, though, I hired just for this job."

     "Are all of them from abroad?"

     "Most of my team comes from Eccoscia, as do I, but we have quite a few Palonians, as well as a couple of Rivvenlanders and Ehronians."

     "What else can you tell me about them?"

     "Not much else to tell. There are five other Aelfin, a couple of Dvergar, and the rest human. We number twenty-two in all."

     "All foresters by trade?"

     "Well, most of 'em are. Some are general labor, but as we're away from the cities here, I didn't think Guild Law came into the hiring decisions."

     "No - I shouldn't think it would. Have any of you seen anything unusual since you've been here?"

     "Not that I'm aware of. It's a big forest, though."

     "Well, I won't take any more of your time. Just take care, as there are likely to be a number of people wandering through the wood - myself included."

     "Don't worry yourself, sir. I'll be sure that my men keep a sharp eye out."

     "Thank you." Just as he came to the doorway, Nandliss turned back. "Rikard – might I have a brief word with you?"

     "Certainly, Owerst." Rikard walked with him into the hall.

     "Rikard, where did you find this team?"

     "Oh, I asked around down at Lunelton."

     "And why did you hire so many foreigners?"

     "I didn't hire them all. I hired Greimz and his team. He hired the extras."

     "How did you meet Greimz?"

     "Well, after I put the word out that we wanted such a large team, he was the first that answered, and he was the only one that was sure he could hire so many. Lumber is a big business in Eccoscia, so there are always men ready to work. Since there's so much competition there, it was easy for him to find men willing to work here."

     "I see. Well, thank you, Rikard. That will be all for now."

     Elinge Froske and Mr. Insel walked around the outside of LaDuce Manor. They had exited the front and gone around the entire west wing. As they'd expected there would be, there were a large number of footprints around that side of the manor house – this was the side where the foresters walked around between the garden house and where the Willow wood had its nearest approach.  They made their way behind the gardens and to the rear of the east wing. There were a few trees – mostly oaks and maples – scattered about in this area, but nowhere near enough to qualify as a forest. They discussed amongst themselves whether the Countess would have these trees destroyed, too. 

     Mr. Insel felt it would be a shame, "Some of these are good for climbing. And look over there: pears. It would be a real shame to cut down the fruit trees." He walked to the nearest tree and put his hand to the fruit. It snapped off easily. He handed it to Elinge before grabbing another for himself.

     "Very near ripe, I think," he said as he pushed on the neck of the pear.

     "Thank you, Mr. Insel." Elinge took a bite of hers. "Yes, firm yet sweet."

     "You're quite welcome, Miss Froske."

     They continued walking around the house, eating their pears.

     "There don't seem to be any footprints around here, have you noticed that, Mr. Insel?"

     "So it would seem. One would think the children, at least, would come out here for the fruit and to climb the trees."

     "Indeed. Oh! But here are some now." On the ground were some large boot prints – too large to belong to the twins. They lay in two directions: northward and south toward the house.

     "Which way do you think, Mr. Insel?"

     "Well, Miss Froske, as it's the house that most interests us at the moment, I should go in that direction first. We can always come back and see where the northward tracks lead later."

     "I agree. Tell me … do you notice anything unusual about these prints?"

     "Well, the ones heading to the house seem to be a bit deeper. I expect someone was carrying something this way. Should I call for Master Nandliss? He's likely to make more out of any tracks than we are, considering his experience."

     "We may yet have need of the Owerst, but I think we can take a quick look ourselves. No sense bothering him just yet."

     "As you say, Miss."

     They followed the tracks to the back of the house where they immediately took a turn east, along the wall. The windows here were boarded up, so they weren't sure which rooms were in this part of the house. The tracks ended at small cluster of tall azaleas.

     "An odd place for a shrubbery – so far from the main garden, don't you think, mr. Insel?"

     "I do indeed. They're not terribly well-pruned, either."

     They pushed past the shrubs and followed the tracks into a small clearing, in the middle of which was the stool of a coppiced ash tree that looked to have been harvested recently. Against the house was a stone step leading down to a cellar door. The footprints ended at the ash stool, but continued in the three feet between the stool and stair.

     "Now what do you suppose someone was putting in there recently?"

     "I don't know, Miss Froske."

     "Only one way to find out."

     Elinge approached the door and tried the handle. It was locked.

     "Well, isn't that curious? Hardly an impediment, though, would you say, Mr. Insel?"

     The tall man went slightly stiff, and his voice grew flat. "If I'm to investigate, I'll need full run of the house and grounds. And I'll need to be able to question anyone and expect truthful answers without reservation. You will have all of those, with one exception. I need my rest. You are welcome into my personal chambers, should you need access, but you will make arrangements beforehand."

     "I'd say that's permission granted." She reached into a small pouch hidden in the folds of her skirts and retrieved a small flat strip of metal and a bit of tense wire and set to work on the lock. After only a few seconds – during which there were a few nearly inaudible clicks of the lock levers – there was a small popping sound as the bolt withdrew. Elinge turned the handle again and the door opened.

     They entered a low-ceilinged cellar filled with old crates and broken furniture. There were cobwebs and dust everywhere, which made continuing to follow the tracks quite simple, even in the low light. They led to the back of the chamber where against a wall leaned a number of rusty tools and piles of dirty rags.

     As Elinge examined the wall, Insel began lifting crates. Most appeared to be empty, or at least very light. Upon picking up the sixth one they heard a strange clattering noise from inside.

     "There." Elinge looked up. The crate Mr. Insel was holding appeared to be newer than the others, and heavier. "What do you suppose someone's brought in here? Let's have it open."

     Insel sat the crate down again. Elinge reached him one of the old metal tools which he then used to pry open the top of the crate. Inside was a lot of packing straw and rags. He pulled out one of the rags which was wrapped around something large and heavy. Unwrapping the rag revealed an enormous crystal – a foot and a half long and about six inches in diameter – emitting a faint purple light. The whole crate was full of these large crystals, but they all glowed in different colors, as though there were a small spark of light inside each of them, straining to get out.

     "This is … a surprise," Elinge said breathlessly. "Do you know what this means?"

     "I'm afraid so, Miss Froske," he said – his frown was bathed in dappled light. "It means trouble."

     "Yes. A great deal of trouble. Someone's using this manor to smuggle these crystals … somewhere. But, to where, and whence? And why would someone take such a risk? If news of this got to the Temple, there would be a team of Inquisitors here in little more than a day."

     Mr. Insel only grunted.

     "Quickly! Put them back. We have to cover our tracks. No one must know what we've found. At least not until we know who's behind this."

     They began re-wrapping the crystals and packing them back into the container. Mr. Insel pounded the lid back on the top and placed the crate back where he'd found it. They returned the tools and vacated the cellar, Elinge using her picks to re-place the lever tumblers in the door's lock.

     They then worked their way back through the shrubbery and continued on their course around the house. Near the northeast corner stood a white willow tree.

     "Isn't that curious, Mr. Insel? An ash and a willow."

     "Like in the old Countess's dream and in the note."

     "It could simply be coincidence, I suppose. After all, there are many of both types growing all around here – especially in the forest."

     "If dreams come to us from our own inner minds, as the infamous Dr. Jehltsen asserts, then it might be that she simply had these on her mind – especially as it was by an accident with a willow that her daughter Passed."

     "That could very well be. But then there's the note which appears to have been written before the dream."

     "Might still be coincidence."

     "Yes ... but a very odd one. I think there are two facts we need to know now, Mr. Insel. Have you any idea what they might be?"

     "Well, I expect one of them is to find out who has the key to that cellar."

     "Yes. And the other?"

     "Hmm ... who wrote the note?"

     "Very good. I think when we discover the identity of those persons ..."

     "Or perhaps it's the same person," interjected Mr. Insel.

     "Or person, yes ... once we know, I think we'll a much better idea of what's really going on at LaDuce Manor."

     "How do we go about that, then, Miss Froske?"

     "I have some ideas, Mr. Insel. Let's go and have a chat with Rikard."

Chapter 11: The Library

     The Wizards College of Sol sat, rightly enough, in the College District, which was on the other side of the River Ayrst from the Wall Street District. This meant a long walk for Frayg, but it gave him time to mull things over in his mind. Ever since he'd first examined Nodge Prayner's body, he'd been asking himself why anyone would want to take his eyes and brain. His first thought had been that perhaps the boy had fallen afoul of one of the criminal guilds that were known to operate in Ayrst. Perhaps the boy had witnessed something, and the taking of the eyes was meant to be a warning not to examine things too closely. But then, why take the brain, too? His next idea had been that an underground heretical group might want them for some sort of unholy ritual. He hadn't gone as far as to speak with anyone in from the Temple about that possibility yet. Asking around about Dark Rituals was the sort of activity that might arouse the wrong sort of suspicion. Only very specific Temple Authorities would have such knowledge anyway – those being the Inquisitors. If nothing else panned out, he'd have to try to talk to one of them. Frayg shuddered at the thought of their involvement in his investigation.

     Frayg had followed the High Street over the bridge, through the Docks District and along the Heights until he finally reached the tightly-packed College District. This was one of the oldest parts of the city. The grounds of the college itself had originally been a fortress. It sat on a promontory overlooking the River Ayrst and the grounds of the new Palace in the Royal district directly opposite.

     The High Street passed through the district to the Wizard's Square. Frayg crossed the square and arrived at the gatehouse of the college. He showed the gate guard his Watchman's Seal, and was granted access and directions to the Main Library. There were several libraries in Ayrst – some of them even open to the public – but the Main Library of the Wizards College of Sol had the most extensive collection not only in the city, but the whole kingdom. It was also the most likely to hold books on mythical and legendary creatures.

     The Main Library was housed in an enormous marble building called the Capitolein. According to legend the building served as the headquarters of an ancient Orgish kingdom just after the collapse of the Great Empire. Frayg had his doubts that a bunch of Orgs could ever been so coordinated. The only experience he'd ever had with Orgs was in defending a small caravan from Orgish attack nearly twenty years ago. He'd barely been more than a boy at the time, but the memories were still fresh enough to remind him that it was all the experience he'd ever needed with Orgs, and he'd dearly hoped from that day forward that he'd never encounter one again.

     The Watchman climbed the wide marble stairs of the library and opened one of the huge double doors at the top. On the opposite side of a great foyer was a long desk, behind which sat a pair of students in dark blue robes. One was a bald-shaven boy of about seventeen, the other was a raven-haired girl who's age he'd put at around fifteen. They were talking quietly to one another and laughing. Their sibilant voices echoed throughout the chamber, but the reverberation made it impossible to make out any actual words.

     Frayg approached the desk and the two youth went silent. The boy gave him a quizzical look, as if he'd never seen another person in the library before. The girl addressed him: "May I help you, sir?"

     "I hope so," began Frayg. "I'm Captain Frayg of the City Watch."

     The two students looked at one another and then back to him. This time the boy asked, "What's a Watchman want in the library?"

     "I'm here to do some research, and I hear this is the best place in all of Palonias to do it."

     "Depends what you want to research."

     "I'm interested in any information you have about legendary creatures – particularly folk myths."

     "Any particular creature got your interest?"

     "As a matter of fact, yes. I'm looking for anything that some people call an Eye Reaper."

     The girl's mouth dropped open. She said, "That's very curious, I must say."

     "How's that?"

     "Well, it's been a few weeks ago now, but there was someone else here looking up information about that very topic – only he knew the right name of it."

     "What name is that?"

     "Teuthanurae. Although the books have many names for them, depending on when and where they were written."

     "Tooth-an-yur-ay." The word felt strange in Frayg's mouth. "So who was asking about it – wait, did you say them?"

     "Yes. There was supposed to be a whole race of them, with a kingdom and everything – until they were conquered by the Great Empire, that is."

     "All right." It took Frayg a moment to process this information. "So does anyone believe they were actually real?"

     "There's some debate about that in academic circles. There's been very little physical evidence of them. There is quite a bit of writing – and some of that dates back to the Empire itself. I don't suppose anyone alive today really knows, though."

     The boy looked at the girl as if she'd suddenly grown horns. "How do you know all this stuff?"

     "Well, Dranil, you'd know some of it , too, if you ever paid attention in Imperial History! Plus I did a little reading myself after that weird fellow came in asking about them."

     Frayg broke in: "This was a few weeks ago, you say?"

     "Yes."

     "Do you remember anything about the man?"

     "Are you really a Watchman?"

     "Yes, I am." Frayg produced his seal and allowed the girl to examine it. She looked closely at it and bent it in her hands and then smelled it. Finally, she pulled a small pinch of powder out of a belt pouch, mumbled a few unintelligible words and sprinkled the dust on the seal. There was a small flash of blue-white light and a puff of smoke which dissipated almost immediately.

     The boy next to her hissed, "What are you doing? You know you're not supposed to be doing spells out of class!"

     "Oh, hush," she replied. "The good captain here isn't going to tell, is he? Besides, I had to make sure the seal was legitimate." She handed the seal back to Frayg. "And it is."

     She stood up and offered her hand with a small curtsy. "I'm Zaria, and this is Dranil. In case you hadn't guessed, we're students here, and to help pay our tuition we're working at the library."

     "Pleased to meet you both. So does this mean you'll help me?"

     "Dranil, you keep the desk. I'm going to take Captain Frayg to the books he needs." She turned back to Frayg. "I'll tell you about the other researcher on the way."

     Zaria led Frayg through a door in the wall behind and to the left of the desk and into an even larger room that was full of tables and chairs. The walls were covered with bookshelves. Frayg hadn't realized there were this many books in all the world, much less in one room.

     "I see by the look on your face that this is your first time here." Zaria smiled. "It's quite all right. I imagine my expression was much the same my first time, too. Most peoples' are."

     She paused a moment to let Frayg take it all in, before asking, "Isn't it wonderful?"

     "I … it's so … that is, I mean to say ... Yes. Yes it's wonderful."

     "And this room isn't half of it." With that she led him to the center of the room and made a left turn towards the south wall, where a hallway led off the main room. "Upstairs in the south wing is where we want to go."

     Zaria fairly bounced her way down the hall. She clearly enjoyed showing off the library to newcomers. She was short in stature, but very pretty. Her dark hair fell about her face in loose curls, creating an oval shape that accented her large brown eyes and the bright smile she wore.

     "Now, you want to know about the other researcher. Normally, I wouldn't talk about any of our patrons to anyone else, but as you're a Watchman, I expect you have a good reason for asking after him."

     "Yes, I do."

     "Well, he was a Dvergar, to start. That ought to interest you. We don't see many of them this far south, even in a city as large as Ayrst. Of the six hundred students here at the college, only fourteen are Dvergar. They don't tend to go in for human magicks, but a few of them come to study history and yes, occasionally folklore."

     "Can you describe him any further than that?"

     "Yes. He was a grubby-looking fellow, tall for a Dvergar, but short for human – I'd say about five feet even – right about my height, actually. He wore a short brown beard and long mustaches. He had a northern accent, but I guess most Dvergar do, don't they? Their original homeland is in what is now called Rivvenland, though many of them now live around Rndak and Bergheim."

     "But this one in particular: did he give a name?"

     "No. The library is open to the public except during exam periods when we students need priority, so we generally don't ask people's names. I did introduce myself to him when he asked me for help – out of politeness, you see – but he only shook my hand and didn't give a name."

     They turned right and climbed a set of stairs. Up here there were mostly rows and rows of bookshelves and very few tables. They climbed to the very top of the stairs which ended in a large landing on the fourth floor. Here was another long hall lined with shelves.

     "What, specifically, did he ask about?"

     "The same thing you did, only he used the correct term, as I said."

     "Did you help him long, or did you just point him to the right books?"

     "Well, I tried to help him. I even brought him up here personally as I'm doing for you right now. Once he found what he was looking for, though, he didn't seem to want my help any more."

     "But you came back to do some more research on your own?"

     "Yes, well the little man had piqued my curiosity, you see. Magicks are all very well, and I'm pretty good at them if I do say so myself, but my true interest is in history – especially the stuff surrounding the Empire."

     They continued their progress until they reached about halfway down the hall, where Zaria pointed into an area between two large shelves. "Back there is the stuff on Teuthanurae."

     Frayg went ahead, scanning the shelves. There were so many books: great leather-bound tomes and scrolls and some leaves of parchment held together with wood and string. He didn't know where to even begin. He turned to look at Zaria, who was standing at the end of the little opening created by the shelves. The other end of the passage was against the wall. Frayg suddenly realized he was sort of trapped here.

     Zaria spread her arms and took in a deep breath through her nostrils."Ah! Don't you just love the smell of these old books? It's the smell of history!"

     "I suppose it is." Frayg reached under his cloak, where he wore a small club on his belt. Could this be her, he wondered. She matches the description, but isn't she too young?

     "Right there, on the top shelf. Folk Tales of Rivvenland. That's probably the best place to start." She pointed to a large volume. "I'd get it for you, but I doubt I could reach it."

     Frayg looked up at the shelf while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the girl. He spotted the book and pulled it down off the shelf. Zaria stepped a little closer to him and took the book from him.

     "Here. We'll take it over to a table where we can get some light. It gets so dark in the stacks, it's a wonder anyone can read up here." She led the way to the middle of the hall.

     I must be losing my mind, thought Frayg. I could have sworn she was going to attack me. He followed her to a table near a window. She dropped the book on the table, plopped herself in a chair and began leafing through the pages.

     "Let's see ... here's the chapter on the Grey Mountain Affe – he's like a big hairy Org, but even less intelligent – and there's the Noekin –the Dweller in Ice, who lures children to their deaths in winter – " Frayg took a seat opposite Zaria as she continued scanning the pages. "Ah! Here we are: the Eye Reaper."

     She turned the book towards him and pointed at a paragraph with the heading Teuthanurae. He began to read.

          Teuthanurae (also known as Feasters on Souls) were vicious creatures 

     which used the Darkest Powers. They tended to live in moist caverns and

     other underground locales. According to some legends, they were even

     known to have created small subterranean cites, though during the 

     Great Empire they ventured above ground in great numbers. They 

     believed themselves superior to all other races, and used other intelligent 

     creatures as slaves - even going so far as to hold groups of humans and 

     Aelwyn like cattle.

          Most, if not all Teuthanurae in the Southern Colonnade Region were 

     hunted down and destroyed by the Holy Crusaders during the reign of 

     Queen Eustace (70 - 177 UC).

     "Wait a minute. This makes it sound as though they really were real."

     Zaria smiled. "Yes, but as I said, there is some debate about them. Most scholars believe they were real creatures, or that there were some real creatures at the heart of the legends. Of course, legends always grow with the telling, so there's a great deal of doubt about their Dark Powers or whether they were numerous enough to found a kingdom or capture humans and Aelwyn as slaves."

     "Aelwyn?"

     "Oh, the Aelwyn were the ancient race of Aelfin. They were nearly wiped out during the Great Empire period, and little is known about them now. It's believed that some of them fled into the Endless Marsh. Supposedly they intermarried with the Marshmen and that's how they fathered the race we call Aelfin today."

     "And these Teuthanurae were powerful enough to take these Aelwyn and humans as slaves ... and for ... food?"

     "And evil enough. Or so many legends say."

     "This mentions Queen Eustace ... so these things were supposed to have lived in Palonias?"

     "They were supposed to have lived all over the region."

     Frayg turned back to the book.

          The Teuthanurae live on in Rivvenlander folklore as the Eye Reaper. 

     According to these tales the Eye Reaper awaits children who wander 

     too far from home or disobey their parents or engage in whatever behavior 

     the parents wish to curtail – even if they cry too often. It is said that the Eye 

     Reaper eats the children's eyes and finds the eyes of a crying child to 

     be a particular delicacy.

          There are varying descriptions of Teuthanurae. Some accounts refer 

     to them as larger than humans, others as small as Pixies. They are 

     usually said to have green or grey-green skin like a frog or a toad, and 

     long frog-like fingers. The only feature that all accounts do share in 

     common is the Teuthanurae's lack of eyes, though some say they have 

     empty sockets where eyes would be on a human and others describe 

     sucker-like appendages or tentacles, instead.

     Frayg sat back in his chair, bewildered. "If it has no eyes, then how does it see?"

     "That's all that book has to say on them," replied Zaria. "But we have others. I remember one of them said something about them screeching like bats and that they used the echoes off of their surroundings to see. They're supposed to have quite keen hearing. Some other book said something about using Dark Magicks in place of vision. If they were able to use those sorts of powers, it's no wonder the Crusaders hunted them down."

     "All right, then. Let's see what else there is. I especially want to see the books the Dvergar saw, if you can remember which ones they were."

     "Sure thing. Just wait here and I'll be back." Zaria left him alone with his thoughts.

     He wondered if would be possible for one of these things to have somehow managed to live in the city. In the sewers, perhaps? Surely it couldn't have been here long, or something like this would have been reported before. And why would it have come into an inn rather than go after someone in some back alley somewhere? And what had the girl to do with any of it? Could she be its slave? That made no sense at all. Why wouldn't she just run when she had the chance, or get help from the Watch?

     He suddenly realized that his hunch had been a foolish one and that he was wasting his time. Zaria returned with a small stack of books and some scrolls.

     She said, "Some of these are older – closer in time to the source of the legends."

     Frayg rose from his seat. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time, but I really don't think any of this information is going to help me."

     Zaria frowned. "Really? That's too bad. Some of this stuff is really creepy – like the book that describes how they eat people's brains."

     Frayg sat down again. "Wait. On second thought, I think I'd like to see that one."

Chapter 10: The Bakers

     The couple sitting at the Watch House regarded Frayg with a frantic desperation. They'd been waiting for him for nearly an hour, and they could tell by the way the other watchmen behaved that there was something they weren't being told. Frayg sat himself across the table from them. He looked over a piece of parchment in his hands.

     "Mr. and Mrs. Prayner?"

     "Yea," said the man. He was tall and rotund, but had a look of strength about him. His light brown hair was closely cropped and he was clean-shaven. His wife was similarly built, but softer. Her blonde hair was tied in a tight bun at the back of her neck. They both wore long white aprons and smelled of fresh bread.

     "I'm Captain Frayg. This report says you're looking for your son ... Nodge?"

     "Yea. 'E joined the navy, y'see ..." Mr. Prayner had an odd accent that Frayg couldn't quite place.

     "Have you checked down at the docks?"

     "No sir, 'e never went to the docks."

     "Are you sure?"

     "Yea. A navy cap'n come up t' our bakery this mornin' an' tole us Nodge never showed up f'r duty yest'day,"

     "Do you think he got cold feet and fled?"

     "Nay. 'E was bound an' determined, in spite o' the fact that 'is mother an' me didn't approve."

     "So, when did he sign up?"

     "Day 'fore yest'day. An' then we 'ad a fight o'er it that night. We kicked 'im -"

     "You kicked him out of the house, Novril," interjected his wife. "I was upstairs crying at the time."

     "I see. So you wanted him to stay and run the family bakery, but he wanted to run off and see the world, yes?"

     "So 'e says, yea."

     "Tell me, Mr. Prayner. Did your son say anything about where he was going?"

     "Nay." Novril sullenly lowered his head. "I tole 'im I never wanted t' see 'im again. Didn't give 'im time t' tell me what 'e were about. I were too angry, y'see."

     "But he was due to report to the Yard yesterday morning. Tell me, did he have much money on him?"

     "Yea. 'E waited 'til after I paid 'im 'is wages t' tell me 'is plans."

     "Would you describe him for me please? Also what he was wearing."

     Just as Frayg had both hoped and feared, the description matched that of the boy from the Carter's Rest. Well, he had to be someone, I suppose. He just hated to be the one to break the news.

     "Mr. Prayner, would you mind coming with me for a moment? Mrs. Prayner, you can wait here. We'll be back in less than half an hour, I expect."

     "Mr. Prayner, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you." The two men walked up Lyons' Wist – the central bisecting road of the Wall Street District of Ayrst – towards the temple where the victim's body was currently housed.

     "I expect you do, Cap'n Frayg, else you'd not 'ave left my wife behind."

     "The description you gave me of your son matches that of a, uh ... a body we found at the Carter's Rest Inn yesterday morning. I'd like you to identify him to be sure. We haven't had a clue as to his identity up to now."

     The man paused a moment, his face suffused with blood. He choked back his tears before asking, "'Ow? 'Ow did 'e Pass? Did 'e drink 'imself Over on account of our fight?"

     "No, sir. Someone sent him."

     They walked the rest of the way to the temple in silence. Novril Prayner did recognize his son.

     "But 'is eyes ... what's 'appened to 'is eyes?"

     "We don't know, Mr. Prayner. We are pretty sure he was Passed before that happened, though," Frayg lied.

     "Please, Cap'n ... don't tell Ella about th' eyes. She'll not know 'ow t' take it." Novril's tears began to flow.

     "As you say, Mr. Prayner. We'll tell her simply that he was robbed and that he Passed quickly. There's no need to add detail. We shouldn't keep her waiting, though."

     After a few minutes, Novril composed himself and the two men left the temple. The walk back to the Watch House was a slow one. Every few steps Mr. Prayner would begin weeping again.

     "'S my own fault y'know. If'n I hadn't yelled at 'im so ... 'e might o' stayed at home that night. An' 'e would've 'ad a quiet place t' sleep, 'stead o' spendin' 'is coin on ale an' a room."

     "Mr. Prayner, listen to me. This is not your fault. There is no way you could have known what would happen to Nodge."

     As they approached the Watch House, Mrs. Prayner stepped through the doorway. Looking up the street, she caught sight of the two men walking and talking together. As soon as Mrs. Prayner perceived the look on her husband's face she dropped to her knees. An otherworldly wail issued from her throat. Mr. Prayner ran to her and joined her on the ground and held her to him. They rocked there back and forth, the inhuman wailing seeming as though it would never stop.

     Frayg turned away from the couple, unable to control his own tears. Up to now it was just a body, he thought. Now it's a person. He knew his chances of finding the responsible party were slim, but he determined he would exhaust every possibility.

     The Prayner's weeping slowed after several minutes. They sat there on the ground, holding one another.

     "I'm so sorry, Ellie, I'm so sorry," began Novril. "'S my own fault. I shoulda never let 'im leave. I were so angry an' now it's my fault 'e's gone an' I dunno what t' do ..."

     Ellie put a finger on her husband's lips. "Hush now, you fool. You couldn't have known. It's not your fault. I should have -"

     "That's right," interjected Frayg. "It's not your fault – either of you. We're not sure who's fault it is, but we have a few clues, and I promise you I will do my very best to find them and see them brought to the King's Justice."

     Frayg helped the grieving couple up from the ground and brought them inside, away from the crowd of onlookers that was beginning to form around them in the street. He got them both a glass of cool water and found chairs for them.

     "Shall I call a priest from the Temple? Or from another church?"

     "We've always worshipped at the Church of the Earth," said Mrs. Prayner. "My husband's family came to Ayrst from Bergheim when he was a boy. The only things they brought with them were their profession and their faith."

     Mr. Prayner nodded agreement. "But there's no need for you t' call a priest. I think we'll collect Nodge's sister an' go to the church together."

     "Very well. I'll contact the priests at the Temple of the Light  and make arrangements for your son to be handed over to the Church of Earth. Do you need any other help with arrangements for the Rite of Passing Over?"

     The Prayners' eyes welled up with tears again. "No thank you, Cap'n. We'll take care of ever'thin' else. 'S our fam'ly duty." 

     They rose from their chair and turned to go. Frayg accompanied them to the door.     

     "If you need anything at all, please let me know. You can always reach me through the Watch House, even when I'm not here."

     They thanked him and walked out, whispering to one another. After a moment, Mr. Prayner returned - alone.

     "Y'know, though ... reminds me of a tale me mam used t' tell us children of an evenin' ..." He trailed off.

     "What sort of tale was that?"

     "One o' them stories folks used t' tell their young'ns to get 'em to behave. She used t' warn us all t' stay close t' home an' always do as we were tol' on account o' the Eye Reaper. They used t' say he'd come and steal th' eyes of children what wouldn't listen, or if'n they cried too much."

     "Is that so? Did you ever tell such tales to your son?"

     "Nay. 'S one o' them things we left behind in Bergheim. But I used t' have this neighbor, y'see ... 'e always said them old stories was based on real creatures what used to live a'fore the collapse of th' Old Empire. 'E used t' say that not all of 'em was gone, either – that some of 'em lived on. 'S probably nothin' t' do wit' ... this ... wit' our case, I mean. But after thinkin' on it a minute, I were reminded o' them old stories."

     "Any little thing you can think of might be helpful, Mr Prayner, no matter how unrelated it may seem. Thank you."

     With that, Novril rejoined his wife in the street and they left for home. Frayg, meanwhile, sent one of the pages to the temple with a message to make arrangements with the Church of Earth.

     The Eye Reaper, he thought to himself. Could such a thing really be true? Monsters from legends had been seen now and again, but in a city of close to half a million people? Surely someone would have reported seeing something like that.

     "Billi," Frayg said to the House Captain, "When Commander Brylle comes back, tell him about the Prayners. At least we know who that poor boy was, now. Oh, and let him know I'll be at the library for a while."

     "The library?" Billi was nonplussed. "What in All the Hells are you going to be doing in the library?"

     "Following a clue. Not a very good one, mind you ... but I just had one of those peculiar ideas put in my head, and until I do something about it, it's just going to keep bothering me."

Chapter 9: The Dreamer

     The company remained in the dining hall for a little while after the Countess left. They discussed their plans for the next day, but only briefly. The Dreamer would do as was expected, and search for answers in his sleep. After that, he would stay with the Countess. Nandliss would begin searching the grounds and talking with the foresters as soon as the sun rose. Elinge and Mr. Insel would start with searching the house and talking to the servants. Once their roles were determined, they retired to their rooms for the night.

     When the sun rose, they were each greeted by one of the twins, and told to come to the back terrace after washing. Once they arrived, Nansi informed them that the countess would be taking her breakfast alone in her parlour, but that she and Rikard had been instructed to give them any aid and answer any questions they might have. She then brought out fruit and cream and fresh bread for their morning meal.

     The face of Sol shone over the terrace, offering a beautiful view of the gardens. In the distance beyond, the roof of the garden house could be seen, as well as a plume of smoke, as from a camp fire. There was some noise of men talking from that direction, as well. The company sat at a wrought iron table covered by a fine linen cloth with a matching set of chairs. 

     Further on, to the north and west, the company could see the edge of the Willow Wood. The trees grew thick there – their foliage was just beginning to change – though there was some evidence of destruction where the trees had come closest to the gardens. The foresters had clearly been at their work for at least a few days.

     "So, Master Trammer. Were your dreams informative?" asked Mr. Insel.

     "I'm afraid they were not." The Dreamer frowned at the nearly untouched plate before him. "I felt no Connection last night. Perhaps it was the trip here. I may need more rest before I can truly Dream. I may also need more contact with the Countess. I'll spend a quiet day with her today, and perhaps nap in the afternoon when she does. I should be better able to prepare myself tonight."

     Elinge grinned at the Dreamer. "So you need some proper rest before you can sleep?"

     "Drolly put, but essentially correct. In order to truly Dream, one's mind and spirit must be rested and prepared appropriately. This is difficult to achieve, as time spent True Dreaming is never so restful as time spent merely dreaming in the conventional sense."

     "Well, I slept like a babe," put in Owerst Nandliss. "The Countess's beds are quite comfortable. Of course, when you've spent as many nights camped outdoors as I have, any bed indoors is a comfort."

     "Yes," said Elinge. "I imagine you've known enough sleepless nights for all of us."

     "Indeed," he replied, and then rose. "But if you'll excuse me, I think I shall begin my investigations. The foresters begin early, and I shouldn't like to interrupt their work too much once they've begun. Ms. Froske. Gentlemen." He bowed to them in turn, and pulling a green rucksack over his left shoulder, made his way straight to the garden house.

     The remaining three ate quietly for a few minutes, until the Dreamer, too, took his leave. "I had best check on Countess Amelia," he said. "Perhaps she's had another of her ... Dreams."

     Once Nansi had finished cleaning up the table she brought them kaffea. They sat side by side, looking out over the garden. The gardens must have received attention that the rest of the estate did not, for they were still in a lovely condition.

     "So, Mr. Insel, what do you think?" Elinge took a sip of her kaffea, and stared into her cup.

     "I think the Countess is hiding something."

     "You always think everyone is hiding something."

     "Everyone usually is." Mr. Insel grinned crookedly.

     "I suppose you're right, at that. But what, specifically, do you suppose our Amelia is hiding?"

     "I'm not sure yet, Miss. But I'd bet you have some ideas already."

     "You know me too well, Mr. Insel. What else have you got on your mind?"

     "Well, this Rikard fellow. She seems to be of mixed mind about him. One minute she's insulting his honor, and the next she's talking about his loyalty."

     "Very good, Mr. Insel. I think that bears some investigation, don't you?"

     "As you say, Ms. Froske."

     "And what did you think of the portraits in the dining hall?"

     "Aside from the obvious, you mean?"

     "Yes. Aside from the resemblance to the Count."

     "Well, in the Countess's portrait, she appears to be of an age with what the Count is in his."

     "And why do you find that strange, Mr. Insel?"

     "Well, because he was twelve years her junior, of course. When he'd have had that portrait made she'd have already been nearly fifty. But she looks to be in her mid-thirties, at most. And she would have been … let's see … she was forty-eight when he Passed, and that was in 768. They were married in 758, so they were only married ten years. So she'd have been thirty eight and him only twenty-six when they were wed. She looks younger than that in the portrait."

     "Yes. Now that does seem a bit odd, doesn't it? What possible reason could there be for this discrepancy in age?"

     "Well, I suppose she could age as slowly as those kids seem to do."

     "Yes, there is that, I suppose. But I expect the answer is far more mundane than that."

     "How do you mean, Miss?"

     "Portraits are usually made to project an image for posterity."

     "And you expect she doesn't want posterity to remember the age difference between her and the Count?"

     "Precisely, Mr. Insel. It's not common for people to marry someone so far from their age."

     "But nobles are hardly common, are they?"

     "Indeed they are not. Nobility often marries for reasons other than love."

     "You expect their marriage was an arranged one, then?"

     "Most probably, yes. And as the Countess was born an Astra, a marriage to her would have been quite a step up for the Count. Men usually arrange for their wives to be younger, but in this case there would have been something else at stake: power and connections."

     "The Countess seems convinced that the Count loved her."

     "She seems too convinced, though, don't you think, Mr. Insel?"

     "And there's posterity, again."

     Elinge nodded. "And why do you think it would be so important to her that her husband be depicted, for posterity, to be such a loving, caring, and devoted man?"

     "Well, Miss Froske ... generally when someone tries so hard to foster a particular image for posterity, it's because they're trying to hide something."

     "And we're back at square one again, Mr. Insel: the more obvious thing about the portraits."

     "Yes. The resemblance between the Count and Rikard."

     "And the fact that Rikard's mother, the young maid Livinia, came here with Amelia all those years ago."

     "So you're thinking that the Count is Rikard's proper father. You reckon the Count may have married Amelia Astra, but that it was Livinia he loved?"

     "It's quite possible. Amelia surely does what she can to dishonor the woman's memory. She can say what she likes about not standing on ceremony, but I've met few people who would dishonor the memory of those who've Passed in such a way."

     "Fewer still among the nobility, wouldn't you say, Miss Froske?"

     "Oh, they do it, but never so directly, Mr. Insel. Nobles rarely say anything directly."

     "On account of posterity?"

     "Something like that, yes."

     Mr. Insel and Elinge Froske finished their kaffea and took their cups and saucers to the kitchen where Nansi was cleaning and beginning preparations for the midday meal. Jessa took their dishes from them and added them to the pile she was already washing. She gave them a sullen look as if to say, I didn't have to do so much work when we didn't have guests, you know. They startled Nansi by thanking her for the meal, and then left to explore the house.

     They began with the Library, where they were surprised to find Merrik Trammer. He was quietly perusing the titles on the shelves.

     "Master Dreamer," said Elinge, "I expected you to be upstairs."

     "I would be, Ms. Froske, but I was informed by Rikard that she wasn't up to receiving anyone this morning. It seems she slept unsoundly and awoke with a touch of a cough. I, myself am unable to sleep so early, and so I decided to spend some time meditating."

     "But you found yourself here?"

     "Libraries often have the most comfortable chairs, you see."  He indicated the overstuffed chairs placed about the room. "This one is no exception to that rule."

     "Looking for heresies, are we?"

     "Of course, not. I have no desire to put that poor woman in danger, no matter what unusual beliefs she's taken with in her old age."

     "Yes, well, you and she both seemed to indicate that you may not hold the most orthodox philosophies yourself."

     "Surely I have no idea what you mean."

     "Did you hear that, Mr. Insel? He has no idea what I'm talking about. Do you find that odd?"

     "I certainly do, Miss Froske."

     "And why would you find that odd?" asked the Dreamer.

     "Well, Master Dreamer" began Elinge. "It's because of Mr. Insel's unique gift."

     "And what is that?"

     "Won't you please tell him, Mr. Insel?"

     Mr Insel's voice took on a flat tone: "Surely, Countess, you know what you speak could be construed as heresy? Yes, I know, but there is no Hierophant here to scold me. Surely you have no interest in running to the Temple? Though I've little doubt they'd love to hear the tale."

     The Dreamer tilted his head to the right, his eyes narrowing. "What is this?"

     "Continue, please, Mr. Insel," said Elinge.

     "So say you and your former brethren." He hesitated a moment before beginning again in the same flat tone, "Some of this will make you uncomfortable, Dreamer, but it is truth I speak. And it was not so long ago that your very brethren would not have been so edgy around such talk. I've read my history. I should be careful discussing any books with that sort of knowledge so openly. The Temple has issued strict orders that the ecclesiastical histories of the Old Gods are to be removed."

     A look of consternation passed across the Dreamer's face as Mr. Insel continued. "Calm yourself, Master Trammer. I think the Countess is quite safe here in her own home. She's hand picked her company for this evening, and I suspect she wouldn't risk such talk if she believed any of us were the type to go running to the Temple of The Invincible Light with tales of heresy. Quite so. As my Count used to say: 'Faith has its place, but it is not in restricting thought or reason. They must have their places too.'"

     "Stop this."

     "Not just yet, Master Trammer. He's very nearly finished."

     "Well, I have my own reasons for being cautious. I expect you know my history, Countess? Indeed, I do. This is why you were among those chosen."

     "I see," said the Dreamer. "But what is the point of this little parlor trick?"

     Elinge smiled. "The point is that we are quite aware that you have fallen afoul of Temple authorities yourself. I expect you recanted heresies you may have uttered, or you would not be here rather than in a dungeon, or in The Dream already."

     "Yes, I recanted. And it is my duty to see that others do not fall into the same trap."

     "Which trap would that be? The trap of false belief? Or the trap of having to answer for those beliefs? Perhaps on threat of pain of torture?"

     The Dreamer sat in the nearest chair. "I do not wish to speak of this matter."

     "And I do not wish to hear of it. I merely wish for you to know that I am believer in facts – verifiable facts. Whatever philosophies or religious names one wants to put to them hold little interest for me. As a result, I want you to know that you are safe discussing any matter with us. During this investigation facts may appear. And if those facts do not jibe with some predetermined notions of what is or isn't acceptable, I will follow the facts, heresy or no."

     A look of relief crossed the Dreamer's face. "You really do mean that, don't you?"

     "I do, Master Trammer. On that you may rely. In the meantime, Mr. Insel and I will take our leave. We've much to do before Old Sol sets himself down for the night."