"The Twisted Path: Chapter 10" by Melissa ´TigerCat´ Jones

"Eterne alternation
Now follows, now flies;
And under pain, pleasure,--
Under pleasure, pain lies.
Love works at the centre,
Heart-heaving alway;
Forth speed the strong pulses
To the borders of day."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson, The Sphinx


Chapter 10: Abyss

The mule pulled the travois over the bumpy terrain, joggling Sidh"s loose limbs in a disconcerting manner. Wren was reminded of a rag doll flopping in a running child"s hand. She shivered and hugged her splinted arm to her chest, feeling the coolness of the poultice still trickling into her skin. The sling itched against the back of her neck where the large knot frayed, but she did not complain. Things could be worse. Sidh had awoken for a few minutes the day before, asking for water, and the healer of the village had been quick to dose him with potions and philters. He had fallen asleep soon after, and that time it had been sleep, and they were all assured that he would recover soon though he would be in no shape to walk for a while. Fox had also been patched up, and his wounds had been less extensive than feared. Cracked ribs and sprained wrist were wrapped tightly, bruises were poulticed, and the dozens of splinters removed from his chest, back and legs. Rhys" physical injuries had also been attended to, but Wren feared that they were less of a concern than his mental anguish. He hid it well, but Wren could see the bleakness in his eyes. She figured she knew the cause of it.

Four days they had been in the village, and multiple times during that period the surf had been checked for washed-up debris, including bodies. Drowned sailors, or parts of them, had been stranded on the sand at low tide, along with ropes, shards of board or canvas, lanterns, and the occasional cooking utensil. No sign of Dae had been found. Wren could see that Rhys worried, that he grieved. Fox noticed him stare plaintively at the trees, only to turn swiftly away when caught. Wren grieved as well for the loss of her friend, but she felt worse for Rhys. In all the months they had traveled with the strange woman, he had never told her how he felt, and now it was too late. Wren did not think Rhys had ever loved anyone before. He had had his flings, of course, and the rare paramour that had lasted a month or two, but this had seemed different. He had not pushed nor prodded; he had waited patiently, working himself into her affections. Wren had never seen him so happy, especially when it looked like Dae was beginning to react positively. And now, it was all for naught.

Fox thought there was hope still, though he could not say why. He would say only that he dreamed something strange right before waking up on the small lifeboat but could remember none of the details. Wren had always thought her older brother a little eerie, though, or at least a dreamer. Sidh was sometimes like that, Wren thought. He made grandiose plans and schemes but never carried them out. He preferred to wait, to let others lead. Looking at him, so quiet on the travois, the woman wished he had been nicer to Dae. But mythical beings had never factored into Sidh"s plans. He did not have the imagination the other three did. He was too caught up in history and priests" stories, and neither of those had shown halfbloods in the greatest light. Dae was utterly beyond his scope of reasoning, and he was afraid of her differentness. Wren understood, and could not blame him for his dislike, though she tried to persuade him to open his mind at least a little. It was a difficult task. She wished now only that he would open his eyes and smile at her, to laugh again. She wanted to weep at his silence, at his still face. He was alive, and that was something, but she feared he would never be the same.

"Log," Rhys called from ahead, indicating that Fox and the helpful boy from the village should lift the travois" poles so Sidh would not be painfully jolted. Lugnayos was twenty-five miles away. In good condition, in this terrain, it would have taken the group about three or so days to reach the city, but with the travois, it would take closer to a week. They were not necessarily in a hurry, but they were all eager for some rest and comfort in their own homes, not to mention food that was not hardtack or fish stew. In the village, Wren and the others had eaten real meat for the first time since Three Rib Cove, and she had forgotten how delicious it was. Their ravenous stomachs had taken it as much as they could, although Fox had eaten himself sick, and, sated for the first time in ages, they slept on straw-tick mattresses - so strange without the motion of the sea.

The villagers had been kind and caring and generous. The healer, not truly a physician as he was not formally trained, was attentive and relatively skilled, given that most of his patients were the village"s goats and snuffling pigs. Rhys had noted, to himself, that the healer"s manner was vastly different from Dae"s. Whereas she had preferred herbs for myriad brews, the man would rather use bloodletting. He also treated his patients roughly, as if they could not feel pain. However, his patients were animals and without voice, so he could not be judged too harshly.

Now, a number of villagers were traveling with them to Lugnayos. It was on their trading route, one of three stops on their circuit. It was lucky for Rhys and the others that the master trader and his crew had been getting ready to set off again when they came ashore. It was not quite as lucky that the storm had blown through and downed a great many trees on the caravan road. Flotsam from the shipwreck had been gathered from the beaches and would be used for trading. Most of it was bundled together and lashed to the mule, evening out the weight of the load it carried: the sea-chest. One of the diamonds Dae had smuggled into the chest had been used to pay for the group"s treatment, along with their room and board and the mule. It had been more than enough.

Dae"s clothes and weapons were still buried at the base of the chest. Wren had wondered if Rhys was going to give them up instead of the diamond, but then realized that that was a foolish assumption. He would keep them until the moon fell from the sky. She looked over the ridge and across the gleaming blue sea shining like glass under the late afternoon sun. There was absolutely no trace of the horror that had occurred days before when the ship turned to flames and splinters against the black-bellied storm clouds and immense waves. Captain Marcus was gone, as was the majority -if not all- of his crew and cargo. It was a terrible, frightful thing to think that death had been so close, almost certain, yet somehow they had escaped. Wren did not like to think of mortality. She could not imagine being dead, being nothing, and it scared her to think that she would just cease one day. Just stop. And there would be nothing left but an empty shell.

She dampened Sidh"s lips with a moist cloth since he could not drink, trying not to think about anything. She wished Dae was here to entertain her, to talk with her of matters that men did not seem to quite understand. Wren was tired of thinking, tired of feeling weary, and so she began to sing. It was quiet at first. A few villagers glanced at her curiously and this encouraged her.

"Do you know any traveling songs?" she asked them cheerfully. "It would make the walk go faster."

“Da, sing the one about the dancing lady!" cried the boy next to the travois, much to his father"s chagrin. The older man"s face changed shades.

"No," he said, coughing embarrassedly into his fist as the others in the group nudged him and laughed. "Tis not a...proper song for this company." The caravan leader turned to Wren. "You"ve a bonny voice, Miss Wren. Sing one a"yer own. We"ll learn the words quick enough."

Wren started the song she had left off before, her voice louder this time. After a time the villagers joined in, singing tentatively at first as they learned the words. After the song had finished, they barreled off into their own and it was Wren"s turn to listen to the tune. Fox hummed along under his breath, and Rhys, at the mule"s head, did nothing. He watched the road ahead in silence.

//~*~


I scavenged what I could, unfamiliar with the flora of this land, and my stomach gurgled in discontent. There were small purple-black fruits in some of the trees and, although they appeared overripe, I tried them anyway. The little ovoid things had a strange, almost meaty taste, and pits that I had to spit out onto the ground. They stilled the protestations in my gut for a time but did not satisfy my hunger. I had nothing with which to hunt, no weapons, not even a length of twine for a snare. I had the small boot-knife, the contents of my belt, my clothes, and nothing more. It was not the worst situation in which I had found myself. Still, it was less than desirable.

My head ached for the first few days and when I found the spring I had washed a deluge of crusted blood from my ears. My hearing was strange still, soft and warbling, although it had much improved over the past days. After meeting the dwarf, that first night, I had awoken to utter deafness and sheer terror. The shredded skin of my palms and shins meant nothing, neither did the vast bruise across the right side of my face. All my injuries paled in comparison to the horror of my ears. It had taken two days for my hearing to return, and those two days had been some of the most dreadful of my life.

I could hear the birds now, very faintly in the leaves above, but I could no longer hear the softer sounds to which I was accustomed. The whispers of the trees were gone, as were the sounds of my own breath and the light step of my feet. I prayed that I would heal swiftly and fully, but in my heart there was fear. In order to make up for the development, I was forced to travel slower and to rely more on my eyes than ears to guide me. I stopped constantly, taking in my surroundings, and then moving on only to do the same thing a short distance later.

I followed the dwarf"s instructions, what few there had been. Go west, take the game trail over the cliff. Go west again. Well, I had been going west and there was no cliff in sight. I was being to think he had lied to me. The strange man had not been malicious, just indifferent to my plight, although he had softened enough to give me a little water before I perished of thirst. His apparent lack of concern did not trouble me. We were both different, and lived as our nature dictated.

Two more days passed and my hearing was steadily improving. I still had not seen the cliff, and this was what caused me now to worry. It seemed that I was lost, although I had been religiously following the setting sun . I drank dew from stiff fronds and ate fruit when I could find it. I craved something more substantial. When the goat crossed my path, I could not help but rejoice.

A split second later, my joy diminished. A boy followed along with a staff in his hands, six other beasts plodding placidly behind him, nibbling at the plants as they went. I ducked into the shadows of the limbs above, watching like a panther from the trees. I was confident I could take the last goat and vanish before the boy could react. It was young, just out of infancy, and too interested in the undergrowth beyond the game trail. The boy"s presence suggested that a village was near and that meant danger for me, especially with my ears uncovered. My hunger taunted me to risk discovery, and slowly I crept down from the branches. The young goat nibbled at the leaves of a low bush while the boy had his back to it, to me, and I struck. The animal did not even have time to bleat before I wrapped a hand around its mouth and tucked it under my arm before disappearing back into the trees.

I ran until I was certain there was a safe distance between myself and the boy. Stopping by the edge of a very small spring, in reality only a trickle of water between the moss-slick rocks, I slew the goat and quickly started a small fire with the fire-kit from a pouch on my belt. As the fire licked at the larger limbs, I skinned the small animal and skewered several cubes of meat to grill. The smell was overwhelming. While the flesh cooked, I wrapped the bones and innards in the hide and buried it, wanting to hide the traces of my passage. The fire, when unneeded, would be put out and the cold coals strewn and hidden under the dead matting of the littered ground. I ate swiftly, uncaring if the meat was burning-hot and underdone. When I was sated, I cut the remaining flesh into strips to cook directly in the flames. I meant to take everything I could, not knowing when I would have another opportunity to have a meal such as this.

I could hear the boy calling, very faintly, almost lost in the soft corners of the wood. I tucked the strips of goat meat into a pouch on my belt with grease-burned fingers, scooped some water on the glowing coals until the steam faded, and then buried them under handfuls of damp leaves. There was no evidence that anything had occurred here, and so I fled back into the trees, hearing the boy"s voice grow softer as he called for the kid. I ignored him, but moved farther away before continuing my westward trek across the island.

The next day, I saw the cliff. A waterfall crashed down into a blue pool at its base, filling my aching ears with the roar of water. Mist hung heavy around the verdant landscape. Everything was wet, dripping with brume and vapor. The black rocks soared skyward, towering over me like doom. The sight was utterly gorgeous and awe-inspiring. I touched a hand to the slick bark of a nearby tree and felt my heart cry with joy. This place was untouched, unspoilt by the explorations of man. There were flowers still, despite the lateness of the year. Bougainvillea and wisteria crawled between stones and hung from low branches. Waxy, gray-green, leafy tendrils I could not identify twisted throughout the higher limbs and clung to the rocks above the pool, along with trails of ivy and vine. Two yellow-green birds flitted down to the edge of the water and drank, then pecked through the shallows for insects or minnows, quiet and intent.

The air was cool and damp on my skin, so very different than the biting, dry winters to which I was accustomed. I was reminded of the Crystal Vale and its perennial spring. I recalled the feel of the darkness in that place, however, and here there was nothing but nature. No magic, no blood, no gods. No fear of drums in the night and the beating of leathery wings. This place was simple beauty and pure reality, not a veneer for something savage and strange.

This place felt like home to me, so much so that, if not for Rhys, I could have stayed and been content.

I drank from the cold pool and ate a handful of leftover meat, along with a few black fruits found along the way. If I ever found Rhys, I would have to ask him what they were called. The odd taste was becoming almost enjoyable. I slept for a time in the comfort of the branches, pressing an ear to the wood so the voiceless whispers of trees could soothe me. When I awoke, my next task was the find the game trail and scale the cliff. I gazed once more at the thundering water and then slipped away into the shadows of the trees.

//~*~


"Thank you again," Rhys said to the caravan leader. "We can take him from here." The man nodded and walked past, joining the other members of his group as they continued down the main pathway into the city. A stiff breeze filled with the scent of salt lifted their hair and tugged at their clothing until they disappeared under the ledge, traveling down the switchbacked road to Lugnayos.

"Why did we stop outside of town?" Wren asked after the group left. She looked weary and pained. Her arm itched under its cloth cast and she could not reach it to scratch.

"Because I don"t want them to see where we live," the dark-haired man answered. "In case word of that issue in the ruins has spread here."

"But you were released, technically. It"s not like you escaped," Wren countered.

"The man who paid for my freedom did so on a condition and now he"s dead."

"A condition that called for our deaths," Fox said grimly.

"Still, better to stay low than call attention to ourselves," Rhys said, holding the mule"s bridle and watching the streets below. "We"ll take Sidh to your house and call a physician. A real one. You can take your pay there and then I"ll put the chest in the hole."

They took the little-used, mud-slick trail into the city, passing the tanner and butcher on the outskirts. The smell was pungent and nigh overwhelming after the clean scents of forest and beach. The sand path turned to a layer of crushed shell interspersed with a mixture with matted fronds and sea grass. The sound of the mule"s hooves were at times swallowed or amplified by the material underfoot. The legs of the travois caught occasionally on a large clump of coral or shell but the situation was quickly and easily rectified. The two small cottages that made up Fox and Wren"s accommodations were just behind the temple district in the olive groves of Lugnayos. The siblings were not alone in the houses, as their mother, an aunt and four young cousins lived with them. Sidh and his extended family also lived in the same arrangement, although their cottages were on the other side of the lake. Rhys lived alone in a small house roughly a mile outside the city, shadowed by olive and carob and fig trees. He preferred the solitude to the endless cacophony of his companions" homes.

Wren ran ahead once they reached the grove, intending to warn her mother and aunt before the others arrived. This was the first time in months that they would see each other, and she wanted the crying and questions mostly ended before the men arrived.

"You know," Fox said after his sister disappeared down the trail, "I never thought that this was how we"d come home. I thought it would"ve been less eventful."

"We"re lucky in any case," Rhys replied. "For a time, I thought I"d never come back at all."

They were silent for a while, listening to the sound of the mule"s hooves and the wind in the branches. Fox pushed a lock of hair from his eyes. "Rhys, I"m sorry," he said suddenly, "about Dae. I know you liked her."

Rhys hesitated. "Thank you," he responded softly.

"Do you...have any idea what happened? To make the ship come apart like that?" Fox asked quietly, not intending to cause Rhys any pain but wanting to know.

"It must have been something to do with the cargo," Rhys answered, glibly ignoring the fact that he knew the hold contained firedust. He did not want to explain anything at the moment. The dark-haired man had not seen Dae on deck. He had not seen the pouch of firedust crushed under the heel of Captain Marcus. He had seen nothing.

"Fox, you"re back!" cried a small voice. A little girl, six years old, ran down the path, black curls bobbing. She crashed into her cousin"s legs and hugged them tight, then squealed delightedly when he picked her up and set her on his shoulders. "Hello, Mister Rhys!" she said happily, grinning and showing a gap in her toothy smile.

"Hello, little Alessia," Fox said. "Why are you not feeding chickens?"

"You know they bite me!" The child scrunched her freckled nose. "Wren says we can keep the mule. I like mules." Her large brown eyes darted down to the travois. "What"s wrong with Mister Sidh. Is he sleeping?"

"Yes, but he"s been sleeping too much lately," Rhys said, catching Fox"s trapped look. "He needs a physician to help him wake up."

"Oh," Alessia replied. She leaned down to peer into her cousin"s face. "Did you bring me a present?" she whispered loudly.

"Maybe," Fox replied as they rounded the bend and entered the clearing. His mother was there, eyes red but dry, and hugged him and Rhys tightly.

"Thank the gods for keeping you both safe," she said haltingly, "though I am surprised to see you, Rhys." She waved a hand when he opened his mouth to speak. "It"s not my business. You"ve helped put food on our table more than once. I"ll continue to look the other way."

"Much obliged, Miss Aip Vossin," Rhys replied, nodding his head in an appreciative bow.

"Bring Sidh inside. I"ve already sent Kara to fetch the physician. Terran will take care of the mule and your belongings."

"Thanks, Ma," Fox said.

"Alessia, go and fetch some eggs from the coop. I"ve a lot to do just now."

"But they bite, Aunt Tille!"

"And so can you. Go on now," the woman answered as Fox lifted the child from his shoulders.

A boy of ten came and led the mule to the barn after Fox and Rhys removed the travois and carried Sidh into the cottage. They placed him on a bed in of the room adjacent to the kitchen. Tille aip Vossin wiped her forehead and sighed. "What happened to him?"

"We think he hit his head on something," Rhys explained pathetically.

"You think? No one knows?" Tille asked in surprise.

"Well, it happened too fast," Fox continued. "We were more concerned with not dying at the time."

His mother waved her hands. "I don"t want to hear it. It"s bad enough you and your sister are gone all the time, and now you"re concerned with "not dying"! It"s enough to make a mother ill."

"Sorry, Ma," Fox sighed. Rhys decided it was better to stay quiet. Things settled down once Wren came inside and the hour until the physician came was filled with talk and the mouth-watering smell of cooking food. The physician, an older man with a walking cane and spectacles, went to work as soon as he arrived. He peered under Sidh"s eyelids, felt his pulse and the depth of his breathing. With a quill, he tested to see if Sidh would flinch when the bottom of his foot and the palm of his hand were poked.

"He woke up once, you say?" the man asked, cleaning his spectacles on the corner of his shirt.

"Yes, several days ago," Wren answered swiftly. "He managed some water and broth."

The physician made a noise in his throat. "I see." He dug through his kit and pulled out a dried bundle of leaves. "Give him what broth you can three times a day. Steep two leaves in a bowl and have him drink it." The man handed the bundle to Wren. "I recommend he be bled as well. Two cups, at least." He brought out his instruments, stained with rust.

"No," Wren interjected at the same moment as Rhys. Both remembered Dae"s insistence on cleanliness and her disgust for those that did not practice it. She had said bad things could happen when rust was introduced into a wound. Infection occurred, and often death.

"We will try the leaves," Rhys said firmly. "If that doesn"t work, we will call on you again and rethink the bleeding."

"You are certain?" the physician asked, surprised.

"Yes," Wren answered. "Thank you."

The older man shrugged. "The leaves will last a week," he said, readjusting his spectacles. Fox paid the physician, waiting as the man gathered his instruments and carefully replaced them in the leather bag, and showed him the door.

"So," Wren sighed wearily. "What now?"

Rhys looked at Sidh, seeing his fading sunburn, peeling skin and closed, dark-circled eyes. "We wait a week."

Later, Rhys decided he would not accept the invitation to stay overnight. He wanted to return to his own house, small and quiet though it was. The vines would need trimming and the inside corners cleared of cobwebs. The dark-haired man wondered if mice might have gotten into his store of grains and dried vegetables kept in the coolness beneath the floorboards. Most of all, he wanted to be away from everything. He wanted to lie on his bed and wear his sorrow in private.

In the fading light of dusk, Rhys took the mule and the sea-chest and started for home.

//~*~

I had sewn the tear in my shirt as best I could, knowing it would be improper to wander around a human city with my bandeau showing. I also washed my face and hands, cleaning away the dirt so I would not look so much like a beggar. The fading yellow bruises were impossible to hide, so I did not try. Let them think what they would of that. My ears were the problem yet again. I had nothing long enough to use as a headband and I was not about to cut away the midriff of my shirt to do it. I kept my hair down, brushing it into complacency with my fingers. That would work for the time being, barring a breeze. I looked down at the sprawling expanse of Lugnayos and quailed. How was I to find him?

I would not let myself think he was dead. I had started down that path once, not long after leaving the waterfall, and anxiety had crept in. I was destitute and could not hire a ship to the mainland. Even if I had been able to travel back over the waters, where could I go? The elves had fled and I had chosen to remain behind. There was no returning from a decision like that, even if Nyx would accept me back. I could remain here, alone, learning the flora and fauna of this new land, but I found that did not appeal to me as much as it once had. I had learned the value of companionship and now I desired it.

Breathing deep, I went down the winding path to the city below, watching the sun slip over the horizon. Darkness would be better for concealment, and I was wary of the sheer number of humans that surrounded me. The night was also when I did my best hunting.

Once I came down the path, I moved off the road and was struck suddenly by an idea. There were trees were with long fronds perfect for plaiting. I moved into the shadows and, with nimble fingers, braided a wide length of cordage to use as a headband. Quickly, I tied it around so that it covered the top halves of my ears and then fluffed my loose hair over it. It did not feel bad, not too bulky or scratchy, and it was effective if not unconventional.

Afterward, I continued my way into the city, more confident now that I was hidden.

For three days I hunted, and no one could tell me anything about a dark-haired man sent away on a prison ship. I lived by pickpocketing coin to buy food or eating at the priests" charity table. When I slept, it was for scant hours high in the branches of a well-placed tree. I watched for anything or anyone that might be deemed useful. The patrons of taverns, inn and hostels could tell me nothing and the search grew frustrating. I tried to remember everything Rhys had told me about himself, every detail. The next morning, I remembered.

He was a thief and had been sent to the mainland on a prison ship. Before the sentencing, he had been held in gaol under an alias. I would try there, hoping that a guard or perhaps even a prisoner could give me the slightest bit of information. I was very uneasy about entering the gaol, knowing it was a place of fear, desperation and confinement. I swallowed my anxiety and breathed deep, steadying myself before crossing the threshold of the low, stone building. There were few windows, and the ones that were present were thin and vertical like arrow slits in a city wall. The rushes under my feet were soft from the damp air.

The front door, thick wood banded with iron, stood open. Inside, I could see flickering lanterns in every corner. On the opposite wall, there was a similar door and I thought it must lead to the cells. A desk was at the back wall, and a broad-shouldered, gray-haired man dressed in mail and felt sat behind it. The quill in his hand scratched at the parchment before him. He did not look up until I cleared my throat two feet from the desk.

"Yes?" he asked, looking bored.

"I am looking for a man called the Shadowhand," I answered plainly, feeling my heart thunder behind my ribs. My mind would not stop screaming danger.

The man"s eyes did not change. "We have no one by that name here."

"You did once," I said. "Some months ago."

He folded his hands on the desk, placing the quill back into the inkwell. "And what is he to you, girl?"

I stilled myself. I had prepared for this. "He took something from me. I want it back." I changed the tone of my voice just slightly, affecting a simpler  facade. The man would question my intentions less if he thought me slightly childish.

"Did he now," the gaoler replied, more statement than question. "And what was this thing?"

"My dog," I answered swiftly, using whatever fey power there was in my eyes. My inspiration had been a boy outside, playing with a shaggy-furred beast. "I do not know where he lives. I have heard that he might be gone, but I want to find his house at least."

"A dog?" the man repeated slowly. "You trouble yourself over a dog?"

"It was mine and he stole it."

The gray-haired gaoler shook his head. Sighed softly, he began to flip through a thick tome on his desk. After several minutes, he stopped, resting his eyes halfway down the page. "Good luck finding the beast alive," he said, "after all these months. The man"s been shipped to the mainland; you won"t find him here. All I know is he was thought to reside somewhere in the wood south of the lake." The man looked at me over his folded hands and cocked an eyebrow. "If you happen to locate the Shadowhand"s lair, do let me know." He clearly did not think me capable and, from his words, I deduced that no guard or gaoler had found Rhys" home before.

"I will," I lied. It was not quite what I had hoped for, but it was better than nothing. At least now I had a direction. I left the gaol, paused in the shade of a nearby tree and waited for my racing heart to slow, and then moved on. My hunt was not yet finished.

//~*~

The wind was loud, twisting through the slender limbs like the howling of wolves. Rhys slept fitfully, tossing and turning on the blanketed bed. He had thought of going to visit Sidh"s family and tell them of the problems the young man was having, but decided against it. Rhys was not well known to them and springing his presence on them could be dangerous. It would be better to let Wren approach the family when she had a moment away. He had gone every day to check on Sidh"s progress only to find it unchanged. Rhys" heart was sore. When he was not at the aip Vossins" residence, he was ripping creeping vines from the windows of his house and cleaning the eaves of rodents and cobwebs. The little store of food beneath his floorboards was intact and edible, but the small spring beside the cottage was filled with fallen twigs and leaves which needed to be fished out.

After hiding the sea-chest and its remaining contents beneath a corner of the floor beside the hearth, Rhys returned the mule to Fox"s family. The dark-haired man did not want the braying beast, having neither the space nor the inclination to care for it. He worried that someone might also steer too near his home and that the mule, sensing a presence, would call attention to itself and cause someone to come too close for comfort. Rhys thought that his appearance was not well known around Lugnayos, not enough to cause concern in any case, but there was always the chance that the person that ventured too close would be the one that knew him.

He did not know what to do with himself now. The thought of thieving did not excite him as it once did. The thrill had been the danger, the planning, and the flight. Maybe when his feelings sorted themselves, things would seem right again. Or so he told himself. Rhys did not truly think things would ever be as they once were. There was an emptiness inside him that had not been there before and he did not know how to fill it.

The dark-haired man jerked awake. He sat up, peering anxiously around the dim room, and thought he saw the slightest edge of shadow flit past the window. Rhys listened, hearing only the steady drumming of his heart, and dismissed the shadow and his sudden awakening to the wind in the branches. He settled back down into the blankets and closed his eyes, and had almost drifted back to sleep when there came a knock at the door.

Rhys sat swiftly, knowing he had not imagined the noise. His first thought was gaolers, but understood it was foolish of him to think they would knock. His bare feet touched the cool wooden floorboards as he rose from the bed, sleeping pants loose and hair tousled. He was not tired anymore. Sleep had vanished. Softly, he crossed to the corner and took his knife from the sideboard, and slipped from the bedroom to the outer room. The knock did not come again and Rhys, from the corner, could not see any sign of a person outside.

He steadied himself, held tight to the knife, and cautiously opened the door.

Rhys could not move. He stood frozen in shock. The knife fell from his fingers and clattered to the floor.

"You are a hard man to find, Rhys aip Courcel," Dae said, smiling.