"Don't act rashly, my friend. Give yourself time to consider what Wulder would have you do."

It seems pretty clear cut to me. Paladin gave me a coin to help me discern the hearts of men. He said to shun those who cause the metal to cool. He paused, rubbing the late-afternoon stubble on his chin. He paused, rubbing the late-afternoon stubble on his chin. Regidor, what do you see in this man's colors? Regidor, what do you see in this man's colors?

The meech turned his gaze on the tumanhofer. The mapmaker sat at ease, clearly a man accustomed to sitting at the tables of refined citizens. He held the others' attention with a story of a deity popular among the Ataradari, a tribe on one of the smaller southern continents. This Ataradarian character of folklore rewarded cleverness and beauty from his powerful seat of authority on a mountaintop.

Bardon twisted his lips. Even a child learning the rudiments of the Tomes knows cleverness and beauty are temporal achievements and have nothing to do with lasting contentment. Even a child learning the rudiments of the Tomes knows cleverness and beauty are temporal achievements and have nothing to do with lasting contentment.

"His colors." Regidor's voice interrupted Bardon's thoughts. Regidor's voice interrupted Bardon's thoughts.

What?

"You asked about his colors."

Yes?

"He carries no dark hues indicative of transactions with Pretender. But none of his colors have clarity, either. All but a very few of these strands of muddy-colored light turn back, inward. They should encompass him in a circular pattern. The lack of symmetry is significant. He is a very self-centered man."

Bardon's throat tightened. We should be rid of him. We should be rid of him.

"Yes, now I see why you are eager to be rid of him," remarked Regidor in a steady voice that did much to soothe Bardon's distress. remarked Regidor in a steady voice that did much to soothe Bardon's distress. "He worked beside you to kill the sea serpent, and again, to escape the bisonbecks through the disintegrating gateway. But it was vital to his own personal safety that he do so. I think his decisions would be different should he need to choose between his own life and anyone else's." "He worked beside you to kill the sea serpent, and again, to escape the bisonbecks through the disintegrating gateway. But it was vital to his own personal safety that he do so. I think his decisions would be different should he need to choose between his own life and anyone else's."

Regidor placed a hand on Bardon's shoulder but still did not speak aloud. "I am now convinced that this mapmaker would not choose his path based on the principles of Wulder or the commands of Paladin. Nevertheless, you cannot load him onto a dragon at this late hour. And you would have everyone upset if you announced your intentions. So..." "I am now convinced that this mapmaker would not choose his path based on the principles of Wulder or the commands of Paladin. Nevertheless, you cannot load him onto a dragon at this late hour. And you would have everyone upset if you announced your intentions. So..."

So?

"So, consult with Captain Anton tonight and arrange for Bromptotterpindosset's transportation in the morning."

I worry about his influence on our party. The way he spouts off his philosophy is very entertaining.

"You do your people a disservice. Look at their faces."

Of those seated around the mapmaker's table, all but Holt and Ahnek had lost interest. Sittiponder had a distant expression, as if he were listening to an entirely different conversation. N'Rae's brow furrowed as if she could not quite understand what was being said. Granny Kye yawned, covering her gaping mouth with a scrap of linen she used as her handkerchief. Jue Seeno, with her tiny hands and an odd metal instrument in her lap, worked on weaving yet another fancy sash.

Quietly, Bardon and Regidor left the gathering around the teapot and went in search of Captain Anton. The young squire had to double-time to keep up with the meech dragon's long stride.

"Tomorrow," said Bardon as they passed by the cooking fire and the lo who was in charge of the evening's meal, "we shall address the false philosophy that riddles the tumanhofer's tales. Paladin said he was more concerned about the monsters of variance than the quiss."

"Rightly so." With his long legs, Regidor stepped over an outcropping of rock that Bardon had to hop onto before he could jump down to the other side. They were headed for the temporary dragon field where riders and dragons relaxed.

"I've pondered what Paladin said, and I think I understand," said Bardon, breathing heavily. "Slow down, would you, Reg? I can't talk and run to keep up with you."

Regidor complied. Bardon took a couple of deep breaths and went on. "When people are confronted with an outside enemy, they band together for mutual protection. A physical threat unifies."

"Correct," said Regidor.

"But ideas, contrary concepts, shades of differing opinions, theories, these things shatter commonality."

"I agree," said Regidor. "A quiss rises up out of the mist, and one knows one must kill or be killed. A man says over a pint of ale at the tavern that he believes Wulder is one form of universal fable, and who contradicts him? No one. Yet his words are belittling the truth, wounding the strength of our convictions."

Bardon laughed. "We can't slay everyone who doesn't agree with the Tomes."

"Words are powerful weapons, Squire Bardon. False philosophy can be killed with the right weapon. And the weapon is words. And the right words are truth."

Bardon stopped. Regidor paced ahead, then halted his course to turn and tilt his head at his friend.

Bardon pointed back to the main camp. "If what you say is true, Reg, we should go back to Bromptotterpindosset and expose his lies with principles. We should be shouting our opposition."

Regidor grinned. "No, no. I don't believe that's the correct course for this dilemma. You cannot attack a bad idea as you would a savage beast. You don't reason with a bull who charges. You don't shoot arrows at men with ideas." Regidor signaled with his forefoot for Bardon to follow and started off again to the dragon field. "Sittiponder has already raised the flag of truth. Tomorrow we shall discuss Bromptotterpindosset's stories. We will kill the false teachings of an ignorant man. Because...we shall allow each person to wrestle through his or her thinking to reach a personal conclusion. Their decisions will come from within."

"There are men with bad ideas who do shoot arrows at us. What of them, Regidor? Do we reason then?"

"Thinking of Crim Cropper and Burner Stox?"

"Among others."

"Because they wish to kill us, then by all means, let us shoot back. Those we do not kill, we shall capture. Then we can talk their ideas to death, once we have their arrows safely in our hands."

They found Captain Anton sitting between the front legs of his dragon. He held a small, stringed instrument in his hands and played a melody commonly heard in Amara's music halls. He stood immediately as Bardon and Regidor approached. The squire explained the problem with the mapmaker. If the captain thought the solution a bit extreme, he said nothing, merely agreeing to fulfill the orders given to him by his superior.

Bardon chose to sleep beneath the stars that night. He spent a great deal of time talking to Wulder in hopes that a clear answer to his unsettled feeling would emerge.

The problem of the Wizards' Plume advancing across the sky could not be ignored. It hung at about forty degrees above the southwestern horizon. In the north sky the Eye of the North looked down from its ninety-degree position. It seemed that as the Wizards' Plume gained height, it also gained speed. Bardon could do nothing to slow the comet's progress. He spent time staring at the heavenly lights and wondering why Wulder allowed this particular clock to tick away the time. And he pondered an old question. Why did Wulder put each star and planet in intricate synchronization with one another, yet never bothered to send a follower just one clear-cut answer to a simple question?

Have I made the right decision regarding the mapmaker?

In the morning it didn't matter. Bardon got up from his pallet, rolled it and stored it with his gear, and went to tell the tumanhofer he was returning to Dormenae.

Bromptotterpindosset was gone.

.37.

BOOTS.

The young o'rant Ahnek followed Bardon as they circled the area east of the camp, looking for evidence of how and why the missing mapmaker left. Others searched the perimeter as well. Regidor canvassed the north with two leecents. Captain Anton and two riders studied the ground on the west. The last rider and Holt covered the south. Granny Kye, N'Rae, Sittiponder, and Jue Seeno fixed the morning meal.

"How'd old Bromp get past the guards?" asked Ahnek. "Isn't that what they're posted for, to keep people and things from coming into or leaving camp?"

The squire gave his young companion a stern look. "You will refer to our lost tumanhofer with respect, Ahnek. He is Bromptotterpindosset unless he gives you permission to call him by a more familiar name. And that is highly unlikely."

"Do you think he's dead?

"No, I don't think he's dead."

"Then why won't he ever say I can call him Bromp?"

"He just doesn't seem the type to want to be called in a familiar manner by a scrap of a boy."

Rather than being insulted by Bardon's description of him, Ahnek grinned. "So how did Bromptotterpindosset get out of camp without being seen?"

"The guard did see him leave," explained Bardon as he crouched to examine some marks in the dirt beside a large bush.

"Nobody told me," complained Ahnek.

"Obviously." Bardon gestured for the boy to come closer. "Look at this. Someone with big feet covered with a soft material such as well-worked leather stood here for a long time."

Oval imprints overlaid each other in the scuffed dirt.

Ahnek let out a low whistle. "Someone was watching us?"

"Probably."

"Why didn't the guard raise an alarm when Bromptotterpindosset left?"

"It was one of the major dragons, and she saw nothing unusual with one of the men leaving the camp for a few minutes."

"Those guards sure don't like it when Sitti and I go out."

"They probably assume you're up to mischief."

"Well, it was Bromptotterpindosset who was up to mischief, wasn't it?"

"We don't know that." Bardon stood and followed the indistinct tracks as they moved from one bush to the next.

"Do you think whoever was standing here watching clobbered Bromptotterpindosset on the head and hauled him off?"

"Problem is we don't know if these tracks are coming or going." Bardon stopped and put his hands on his hips. He surveyed the terrain around them. "The shape doesn't indicate front or back of the foot, and the ground is too hard to show the indentation of the heel when it hit the dirt first."

"Do you think it was a high race or a low race watching us?"

"Low."

"Bisonbeck, grawlig, or ropma?"

"Grawlig."

"Those that tried to carry off N'Rae or some others?"

"No way of telling."

Ahnek scratched his head. "I can see why someone would want to carry N'Rae off but not that tumanhofer."

"Ahnek." Bardon's voice held a note of warning.

"Mistress Seeno calls him 'that tumanhofer' all the time."

"Mistress Seeno is not a callow lad, who-"

"Uh-oh." Ahnek had stopped in his tracks and stood staring down a steep slope into a patch of bushes.

A scrap of the tumanhofer's shirt snagged by a thorn, broken branches, signs of a struggle in the trampled grass, and small, dark splotches of drying red blood on a rock told an interesting story.

Bardon tucked his lower lip under his upper teeth and whistled, loud, sharp, and clear. Those searching for clues came running.

"It would seem," said Bardon as they waited for the others to gather, "that whoever was standing there watching clobbered Bromptotterpindosset on the head and hauled him off."

Ahnek gave a satisfied nod. "See? I told you."

Regidor arrived first and surveyed the scene. "Grawligs," he said. "Six of them." He looked back to the camp. "By going down into this little depression, our mapmaker took himself out of the line of vision of the guard." He paced a few feet with his eyes on the ground. "It'll be an easy trail. I'll fly ahead and see if I can learn anything."

"I thought you were going to get rid of him anyway," said Ahnek. "I thought he was a hindrance to our quest because he didn't truly follow Wulder."

Bardon and Regidor stared at the boy. Ahnek clamped his mouth shut and became very still, as if he could turn into a mere shadow and not be noticed.

"That's very interesting," said Regidor.

"Where did you come up with that information?" asked Bardon.

Ahnek swallowed. "Sittiponder."

Bardon narrowed his eyes at the boy. "And where did Sittiponder learn of this?"

"His voices."

"Hmm?" Bardon looked at Regidor.

The meech dragon shrugged.

Holt ran up, followed closely by the others coming from various directions. "What did you find?"

Before they could answer, he spotted the site of the abduction. "Oh." He studied it for a moment. "Looks like he wasn't hurt too badly."

As the search party crowded closer to see, they shoved Ahnek next to Bardon's leg.

Holt shook his head and half laughed. "If they knocked him on the head, old Bromp won't hardly have felt it."

Ahnek nudged Bardon at the words "old Bromp." The squire glared at the lad's impertinent grin. The boy tried to control the muscles that lifted the corners of his mouth but failed. He looked away.

A whoosh of air captured Bardon's attention.

Regidor had paced off a few yards and released his wings. "I'll make a reconnaissance flight and bring back information. You might as well eat, then break camp."

His wings spread to their full span and beat the air twice. On the second downward motion, Regidor lifted off the ground. In a moment, he swooped over the hills and soared away. Soon he looked like a large bird of prey in the distance.

The talk, as the group walked back into camp, centered on speculations. Bardon listened but didn't participate. His thoughts centered on this new twist in the plans to find and rescue the sleeping knights.

Ahnek pulled on Bardon's sleeve.