"Why have you come to me?" she asked.

"I know you. I know that you are devoted to this cause. I know that you have talents that will be indispensable," he said.

"Won't Desmeres be of more help than I?" she asked.

"He is not foolish enough to involve himself," he said.

"You called this suicide. Do you believe that?" Myranda asked.

"We are too few and too weak to bring this war safely to an end. Powerful men wish for it to continue. The war is what gives them their power. They would sooner see their own children die than give up that power. Reaching them will be difficult, killing them more so. The consequences will be inescapable. This will lead to our deaths. There can be no doubt. But it must be done," he said.

"You are talking about the five Generals. You plan to end the war by killing the leadership of the Alliance Army," Myranda said. His words did little to help her confidence, save one. He had said 'we'. From this point forward, they were in this together.

"It is the only way," he said.

"The army will crumble. The south will overrun the north," she said.

He was silent.

"Do you even care?" she asked.

"The south has no interest in the continuation of the war. They are a stronger, more able force. They have little to gain from this wasteland. They only wish to retain that which belongs to them. The day the soldiers on the north side of the border drop their weapons, those in the south will do the same," he said.

"So . . . the deaths of these five men will bring this war to an end for certain," she said.

"It is by no means certain, but it is as likely a method as any," he said.

"Won't others arise to take their place?" Myranda asked.

"If more must be done, more shall be done," he stated.

Myn suddenly decided that she had been lax in her duties and streaked off to fetch a meal for her long absent friend. Lain stood and turned to the sleeping form on the sled.

"Her name is Ivy," Myranda said.

He placed a hand on her head.

"I need to warn you. She isn't . . . she must have been in their clutches for a long time. Whatever they did . . . she isn't well," Myranda said, finding herself in the unique position of protecting Lain's feelings.

"What is wrong with her?" Lain asked.

"She can't remember anything. What happened to her, even who she is. She is like a child," Myranda said.

"It is just as well. What happens at the hands of the D'karon is best forgotten," he said.

"I don't think I will ever forget," Myranda said, shivering. "Epidime was the one who tortured me. He was among those that Ivy had to endure as well."

Lain shook his head.

"I faced Demont . . . playing against our strengths," he muttered.

"What?" Myranda asked.

"Epidime specializes in the mind, Demont the body. Had our captors been switched, we each might have been broken. They are testing our strongest qualities," he said.

"The General called Teht. Did she have a specialty?" Myranda asked.

"She deals with wizards," Lain said.

"We found her dead in the ruined fort," Myranda said.

"Then our task is made somewhat simpler," he said. After a moment more of contemplation, he came to a swift decision. "We must leave."

The suddenness of the comment and the conviction in his voice took Myranda by surprise.

"Leave? Now?" she questioned.

"There are a few more hours of darkness. We will need them. The longer that we delay, the more likely our discovery," he said.

"But where are we going to go?" Myranda asked, gathering together her things.

"Tressor. There are a number of people there who have yet to settle their debts. They shall be made to protect her," he said.

"But, the prophesy says . . . " Myranda objected.

"I do not care about the prophesy," he said.

"Surely even you cannot deny the truth now," she said.

"I deny nothing. I intend to keep this creature from the fate that I have chosen for myself," he said.

"But if you hope to succeed you will need her help!" she cried.

"Myranda, it is a war. We face an army at best, a pair of them at worst. There are only two ways to face a force of such size. The first is to meet it with equal strength or greater. One hundred and fifty years of failure is all that can be shown for that. What remains is our only viable option. To strike with a small enough force to avoid notice, and to strike at the very highest level. Cut off the head. If the king were truly the seat of power then the deed would already be done, but our targets are more numerous, and far too canny to allow themselves to be taken in a single blow. They will need to be taken one at a time, but in swift succession. I will require your aid to recover quickly enough from the injuries I am certain to endure. It is for this reason alone that doubling the size of the force should even be considered. Even allowing Myn to remain with us is a risk I hesitate to take. To imagine that a force of five, even five that match my skill, can slip through as easily as one is foolish. To suggest that a force which includes one such as the shape shifter could do so is madness," he said.

Without another word he wrapped the makeshift blankets more tightly about the unconscious creature and threw her across his shoulders. It was futile to argue any longer. His mind was set. Myranda gathered the bow, arrows, and rope from the sled and quickly followed Lain. Even with Ivy to carry he set a pace that was difficult to match. They had been back in the cold of night for several minutes when Myn came trotting up with her gift for Lain. When he showed no interest she carried it faithfully behind him. Lain seemed tireless as the sun struggled to turn the black clouds of night into the gray clouds of day. All the while he seemed more cautious than usual, sniffing the air and casting nervous glances to the southwest. The short day had pa.s.sed without a single word from any of the travelers. Night was well and truly upon them again before the silence was broken.

Lain's previous departure had been a sudden one, and had left Myranda with a mind full of questions. The intervening time had done little to dull the edge of her uncertainties. The silence, and having Lain so tantalizingly near, had stirred the thoughts to mind with renewed intensity.

"Lain, earlier you spoke of Demont. You said you faced him. When?" she asked.

"When you were in Ravenwood with the white wizard," he answered.

"What happened?" she asked.

"The Elites were after you, and you were in Wolloff's tower. I knew it was only a matter of time before they found you. I, too, was a target. To keep them from you, I allowed myself to be taken," he answered.

"And they took you to Demont?" she asked.

"To be tested, though any other man but Demont would have called it torture. He wanted to break me, to know my limit, but in time he lost interest and moved on, taking only the blood he had collected from me. I was left chained to a bed of spikes, dangling over a pit of flames. I was alone. I managed to wrap a chain around one of the spikes and levered it free. By the time the guards had noticed, I'd managed to free myself and escape. The Elites were dispatched to find me. You found me after I'd finished them," he explained.

"That . . . that's horrible," she uttered.

For a time she contemplated the ordeal he must have endured, but soon another question forced the thoughts aside.

"Lain. Desmeres . . . He told you about the book," Myranda a.s.sumed.

"The one you stole from me. He did," came the reply.

"I found the page . . . the entry with Sam Rinthorne. The one from the day of the ma.s.sacre. There was one beneath it. I couldn't read it . . . but it was in Kenvard," she said.

Lain was silent.

"Lain . . . after the ma.s.sacre, Kenvard was gone. How could . . . " she began.

Her voice was being choked off by a knot forming in her throat. Her vision was blurred by tears.

"It happened during the ma.s.sacre," he said.

"What . . . who?" Myranda managed to ask.

"Rinthorne had hired me to find and seal the leak. Shortly after I recovered the intelligence, I was found. One of the Elites. They had been searching for me for years by that time. The man who found me. He was your father," Lain said.

The words shot like a bolt of lightning through Myranda's mind.

"He captured me. Before bringing me in, he found the intelligence. He read it. He seemed to think that something was wrong with it. A bargain was made. I was to be released, and he would destroy any information they had acc.u.mulated about me. In exchange, I was to go to Kenvard and save his family from the coming siege. When I reached the city walls, the gates had already been breached. The building he had told me to search was empty. In the chaos I managed to locate two blood relatives by scent. You and your uncle. I cleared an exit, your uncle found it. Despite the fact I could not save the others, your father kept his word. Overnight the hunt for me came to a halt, the trail rendered cold. I learned shortly after that his treachery was discovered. He was put in the dungeon in Northern Capital," Lain said.

Myranda was silent. She felt numb, and not because of the cold. The cold, the night, the world, they were all a thousand miles away. Her mind was burning his words. Lain, all those years ago, had spoken to her father. It was his doing that she had survived that horrible day, and if only her mother had stayed in her home, she too would be alive. And her father . . . the dungeon. She had heard tales of it. Everyone had. It was legendary. Buried beneath the capital, it extended downward and outward like a system of mines. The worst of criminals were kept there. A man inside was as good as in his grave. He would never see the sun again. Prisoners there were forgotten, erased from the world. All of these years Myranda had feared that her father had been killed in battle. Now she wished he had. He couldn't have survived this long in such a place. Starvation, disease, torture . . . . He had come to a terrible end there. It was foolishness to think otherwise. He was dead now, perhaps after years alone in that wretched hole in the ground.

The girl's tortured mind was still struggling with this terrible revelation when Lain stopped and set down his load. There was no shelter to speak of, and the winds at the foot of the mountainside were constant. The icy fingers of night were the first things to break through the veil of agony her mind had erected. Surely he didn't mean to rest now. They would be in plain sight of anyone who might pa.s.s by.

"You don't intend for us to spend the night here, do you?" Myranda asked.

"I felt her stir. Ivy is waking," he said.

It was true. The creature was moving her head and groaning. She tried to sit up, and succeeded with the help of Lain. Her eyes slowly opened. She sniffed and threw her mouth wide in a long, deep yawn. She saw Myranda before her and smiled sleepily. Then she turned to see Lain. His hand was on her shoulder. She pulled back slightly, the hint of fear in her eyes. She sniffed and seemed to calm slightly, the fear turning to confusion or even recognition.

"Myranda . . . w-who is this?" Ivy asked.

"This is Lain. He is a friend," She said.

"Lain . . . I know that name too," she said, looking nervously at Lain. "They said it a lot. He is a friend?"

She mustered a meek smile again. Suddenly it dropped away.

"A friend like Ether?" she asked suspiciously.

"No, better than Ether," Myranda said with a smile.

Lain cast a questioning look at Myranda.

"Ether is the name I've given to the shape shifter," Myranda explained.

"Then the shape shifter managed to find you," Lain said.

"I'm hungry," Ivy interrupted.

Lain looked to Myn. She was still holding a now partially frozen prize from her earlier hunt. She proudly presented it to him. It was a rather meager offering, hardly enough for one. The two creatures exchanged glances and, without a word, rushed off into the night.

"Where are they going?" she asked.

"I imagine they are going to hunt down a fresher meal," Myranda said.

"You aren't going to go with them, are you?" Ivy asked, looking nervously into the blackness that surrounded them.

"I don't think I would be of much help. Ivy, tell me. What do you remember about our encounter outside the fort," Myranda asked.

Ivy shuddered.

"I remember I was scared. Myn was scared too. Then I heard you scream. I couldn't hold onto her, she ran out after you. I didn't want to, but, I knew he would kill you. I tried to help, but he got me and . . . then light . . . then dark," she said.

She shut her eyes tight. It was as though it hurt her to remember.

"You were hurt then. I saw the blood . . . why aren't you hurt now?" she asked.

"I am something of a healer," Myranda said.

"Healer . . . but . . . how long have I been asleep?" she asked, looking up to Myranda.

"A bit under two days," Myranda said.

"How could you heal so quickly?" she asked.

"A spell," she said.

"You mean . . . magic. I thought magic only made things worse. All they ever tried to teach me was how to hurt things," she said.

"They tried to teach you magic?" Myranda asked.

"A little. Near the beginning. I was no good at it. I'm no good at anything, but I was so bad they stopped trying to teach me. They started using it on me," she said.

Her eyes shut tight again and the pained look returned.

"What other things did they try to teach you?" Myranda asked.

"Everything. Too much. I don't want to think about it," she said.

She tried to stand, but even with Myranda's hand to steady her, she dropped dizzily to the ground again.