Kyllos' footsteps echoed despite the softness of his shoes as he walked towards the dais in the throne room of the Imperial Palace. His tired eyes beheld the throne in another vain hope that the Emperor had come to his senses and taken his rightful place. Instead, the blood-stained sword still lay across its hand-rests, and dust covered the seat.

Kyllos folded his hands and stopped at the foot of the dais, allowing himself a rare sigh as his eyes swept the chamber. He had heard that one of the first things the Emperor had wanted to do was brighten the decor of the throne room. Apparently, such plans had fallen by the wayside with the coming of the Inonni Enlightenment.

He had glanced up at the high, smoky windows, trying to guess the time of day, when he heard hastened footfalls behind him and a swish of robe. He turned to see Yonlas jogging towards him from the hall.

"My sincere apologies for interrupting your audience, Master," said Yonlas, his voice breathy from exertion.

"It has yet to begin," Kyllos commented in a mild voice. "What is it?"

"Our agents have determined the nature of the message which was sent by the Guildmaster of the Oceanus Mages. It is not what we thought."

Kyllos stepped away from the dais. "Indeed? And just what is being communicated to the Urisi Mage Guild?"

"The Guildmaster is using them as a relay. The actual message contains the identity of the person from the rogue fleet who we wish returned to Oceanus."

"Ah. It is obvious now that the Guildmaster is working more closely with Tarras and his group than we had realized."

"We are tracking a courier towards the coast. In less than a day's time he will reach a sea merchant clan, and then we will not be able to stop it from reaching the Urisi if the message is sent overseas by Farview relay."

"Understood," said Kyllos. "To whom is it addressed?"

"Simply 'the Urisi Ambassador,' Master. No specific name was given, but we are aware of only one: Lord Ambassador Norlan."

"It is unlikely they have only one, but it is equally unlikely they will assign anyone but their best to what they would consider to be a sensitive political situation."

"Agreed, Master."

Kyllos looked thoughtful.

"Master, shall I relay an order to intercept the courier?" Yonlas asked.

Kyllos looked at the Cohort. "Why?"

Yonlas paused, not having expected the question. "It is information we do not wish the Urisi to have. We wish to keep them in the dark about our intentions."

"Yet that is based on the idea that the Oceanus Mage Guild might somehow relay information to the Urisi Mages about what they know of our Portal technology. It is clear that the Oceanus Guildmaster has no intention of sending such information at the present time." Kyllos paused. "And I had considered having Jollis contact Lord Norlan and inform him of this information."

Yonlas looked surprised, but said nothing.

Kyllos smiled. "Now you are the one who wishes to ask 'why.'"

"It is not my place, Master."

"I disagree, so I will answer it anyway. Once they know we wish a specific person, they will do everything in their power to ensure he remains incarcerated until we arrive, even if to extract some sort of concession or platinum from us in exchange for extradition. That, as I understand it, is how such political games are played, as distasteful as they are."

"Then why did we not tell them before?" asked Yonlas.

"Once again, it is how the game is played. This was explained to me by those wiser than me."

"So do we stop this courier, and let Jollis communicate with Ambassador Norlan to convey the same information, or do we let the courier go and deliver the information that way?"

"Secrecy is still important in our overall plans," said Kyllos. "From what Jollis has told me, Lord Norlan is a highly intelligent and intuitive man and may already suspect there is more to the story. To hear such information directly from Jollis may send his curiosity down paths we do not wish him to tread. Or, if his direct communication to us is discovered and the Urisi government is sufficiently paranoid, it could place Lord Norlan in an untenable position."

"Then we let the message go," Yonlas said.

Kyllos nodded once. "So long as it does not convey the exact reasons why we wish Gedric."

Yonlas leaned to one side when he heard footsteps approaching from behind the throne. "It does not, Master," he said in a lower voice. "It states only that we wish to take him into custody."

"Then let the courier continue in his task. Lord Norlan will trust this information better, and it avoids any unfortunate implications."

"Yes, Master, I will inform our agents at once."

"Very good. You may leave now."

Yonlas nodded but paused until the Emperor had stepped into view. Yonlas dropped to one knee, bowed his head, then stood and left the chamber.

Kyllos turned and bowed his head, though he did not kneel. "Good day, my Emperor."

Duric folded his arms and watched Yonlas until he disappeared past the double doors. He cast a stony gaze upon Kyllos. "Not at all interested in how much I overheard?" said Duric in a cool voice.

"I was well aware you were standing outside the entry which leads to your private chambers. Thus I already know the extent of your knowledge of the conversation."

"Then perhaps you can explain to me why do you not simply order the Urisi to arrest this man and hold him for you?"

"And would you comply with a request to issue such an order over proper diplomatic channels, my Emperor?"

"Ah, so you finally concede that nothing can happen properly in your plans without at least my tacit agreement."

"This was always a given, I had thought."

"Nothing is a given, Kyllos, for that assumes that I know what in hellfire you and the Inonni are really up to." Duric turned towards the throne. "Every time I think I have it figured out, you throw me for another loop. I get contradicting orders from day to day."

Kyllos watched Duric, as if still in hopes that the man would claim his rightful place. When it was clear Duric would not move, Kyllos took a step towards him. "They should not be thought of as orders, my Emperor, but more like guidance in--"

Duric stamped his foot on the first step of the dais and spun around to face Kyllos. "First of all, stop calling me that. I will not hear you refer to me as 'your' Emperor. I am anything but. You have no allegiance to me, so do not pretend it."

Kyllos regarded Duric with a neutral expression, though his eyes betrayed a touch of sadness. "It was a sign of respect."

"Then stop giving me respect which I have no intention of returning!" Duric shouted. "Allow me the dignity of being treated like the defeated monarch that I am!"

Kyllos remained silent. He sensed that anything he could say to correct the Emperor, no matter how gentle and well-intentioned, would not be taken in the proper spirit.

Duric's face twisted into a grimace. He raced up the dais and grasped the hilt of the sword, then threw it down the steps until it clattered to the stones before Kyllos' feet. "Take it!" Duric bellowed. "Take the sword! Run me through with it. Take Oceanus properly, and leave me not in this damnable limbo state where I am maintained as a fantasy of a ruler of a nation!" He marched down the steps. Kyllos did not move, just as he had not even flinched at the movement of the sword. "Or imprison me. Or exile me. Anything, so long as it is very clear it is the Inonni who are in charge and not any man of Oceanus."

Kyllos set aside his standard teachings and tried to follow where Duric led. "You had stated from the beginning that your intent in deciding to stay as Emperor was to protect the people of Oceanus."

"And you have frustrated me on that matter as well. You do not move against them. You do not treat them any worse than the Noble Lords had. If there was a clear threat, I could justify my continued collusion by the lives that were spared. Instead, you force me into staying through the most despicable means possible: by catering to my own pride."

Kyllos gave Duric a puzzled look.

Duric's eyes widened in mock drama. "What's this? Did I actually conceive of something not in the Great Inonni Plan of Enlightenment? Oh, how horrible. The lowly savages of Oceanus have a spark of intelligence after--"

"Stop it!"

Duric fell silent. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Kyllos paused and closed his eyes. He remained still as a meditation prayer manifested in his thoughts. When the final words had passed through Kyllos' mind, he opened his eyes, his gaze like steel. "I can no longer tell whether you misunderstand the Inonni way because of a true lack of comprehension or simply out of spite."

"Well, that makes me feel better. I can confuse the Inonni. All right, allow me to enlighten you, if that phrase does not offend you coming from me. I could give up my title. I could abdicate. But that would feel like tacit approval from me. I would feel as if I were freely handing control of the nation to you. No, Kyllos. If you want to truly claim you have complete mastery over Oceanus, you will have to depose me. And I intend to give you all the reason in the world to do so."

Duric turned on his heel and marched back towards his private chambers.

"Emperor Z'garon!" Kyllos called out. "We had an appointment. This audience is not over!"

Duric exited the chamber as if he had not heard.

Kyllos let out a sigh and left the chamber. In the hall, he found Yonlas waiting for him. "You still linger?"

The harshness of his Master's voice gave Yonlas pause.

Kyllos drew himself straight and forced his breath to a slow, deep rhythm. "Ignore my tone, it does not reflect my feelings towards you. What is it?"

"I was merely curious as to whether the Emperor offered you any insights as to our difficulties with the peasants."

"I could not even engage him."

Yonlas folded his hands. "Then what you have feared has come to pass."

"Regrettably, yes."

"What do we do it he refuses to be the voice of Oceanus? How will we deal with the Urisi?"

"Things are already in motion with regards to the current crisis. When the missive from the Oceanus Mages reaches Ambassador Norlan, he will smooth the way towards resolving it. The Emperor is superfluous at that point."

Yonlas remained silent and lowered his eyes.

"I sense doubt," said Kyllos. "Speak it."

"This assumes everything goes smoothly from this point on, Master."

"Yes, it does. We can only hope the gods will smile upon us and help shepherd us along the proper path." He glanced towards the doors of the throne room. "We will deal with the final disposition of Emperor Z'garon later."

Tarras observed the Cohort from across the village square, which itself was little more than a patch of dried, dusty ground circling an old defunct well. The Cohort stood with hands folded before him, the wind whipping an edge of the hood across his face. Next to him stood a man whose attire was a step above the peasantry around him. As the man turned, Tarras eyed a patch on his tunic which was a lighter color than the surrounding fabric.

Tarras wondered whose Noble Clan symbol once graced his shoulder. He guessed the man was once the local magistrate or sheriff for a Minor Lord, someone directly entrusted with keeping the peace in the Lord's beholden towns and ensuring taxes were properly levied and collected.

Or perhaps still was. He carried himself with a haughty air as he spoke to the Cohort. He was the only person within Tarras' sight who could tolerate the Cohort's presence. Indeed, he seemed to revel in it.

The Cohort nodded and said something in return. The two parted, and the man swaggered through the square and down the street. The peasants gave him almost as wide a berth as they had the Cohort. Tarras understood at once. He wondered how many other sheriffs now found themselves possessing far more influence and power than was their due.

Distracted by his musings, Tarras discovered only now that the Cohort was approaching him. He did not bolt, remaining in his casual stance, enjoying the warmth of the morning sun on his face. Only when the Cohort was almost upon him did he step out of the way.

The Cohort passed without looking in Tarras' direction and entered the inn behind him.

Tarras stared in curiosity at the door to the inn as it shut behind the Cohort. Did he not get a good look at Tarras? He had passed more than close enough to recognize the former Noble Lord if he knew what Tarras looked like. If he knew. Tarras was coming to the odd conclusion that the Cohorts themselves were making little or no effort to find him.

Nevertheless, Tarras checked for any further Inonni before he crossed the square and found the narrow, winding path into the forest which ran along the east edge of town.

He thought this a rather strange sort of shortsightedness among the Inonni. Were they so confident of their Portals that more ordinary means of search were beneath them? Or did they feel that using a Portal was the least violent means of capturing him?

Tarras came upon a small shack of rough-cut logs mortared with thick dirt and clay, nestled in a small clearing just off the path. It had not been far; he could still hear the bustle of morning activity in the village.

Tarras looked on further ahead, where the path curved sharply out of view around some large boulders. He raised his fist to knock upon the door of the shack, then remembered what he had seen twice before from his room at the inn and allowed himself inside.

The Village Elder was not what he had expected. The man who sat cross-legged upon the earthen floor looked younger than Tarras. His gray hair still retained wisps of brown around the ears and the sideburns. His full beard was still peppered with brown-black. His eyes were lowered, his hands joined in prayer.

Tarras endured the silence for only another moment. "Forgive me for having to ask, my good man, but are you the Elder?"

"If only to notice you come to give clear insult to our God."

The words were crisp and cool like an autumn wind. Tarras was at a loss, but could not convey this without words, as the Elder's gaze remained tilted downward. He was about to excuse himself and leave when he finally noticed the Elder was staring at Tarras' feet.

Or more specifically, his shoes.

Tarras remembered the Elder who gave the blessing after the planting, and how he had removed his sandals before traversing the field. He now noticed the heady smell of fresh soil which lay spread over the floor of the shack.

"Forgive my insult, Elder," said Tarras in as solemn a voice as he could muster. He shed his shoes and stepped upon the fresh earth. As he approached, his senses were assaulted by a stronger, less agreeable odor, the unmistakable musk of old perspiration and unwashed clothes.

"It is not my place to forgive." The Elder looked up. "Only One may do that. You must make your penance to Him in your own way."

"I will, Elder."

"Do not bide your time, not if you invite immediate and swift judgment from His avatars." He glanced past Tarras and frowned. "And you will not bring them upon me. I am not ready to be judged."

Tarras had little clue as to what any of it meant, but he decided he would gain no knowledge if he remained timid. "Cannot the same be said for all of us?"

The Elder's expression did not change, yet Tarras heard a small sigh escape his slightly parted lips. "We cannot know the appointed candlemark, nor the appointed method. We can only continue as we do."

"As I try to do myself, Elder."

"Then why are you here if you seek no guidance or counsel?"

Tarras' pause was for but a single heartbeat. "The operative word, Elder, is try."

"Ah." The Elder gestured before him. "Sit."

Tarras hesitated before he lowered himself to the floor, hoping the Elder would not require him to remove everything which might contact the earth. He managed to avoid wrinkling his nose at the foul air which was stirred at the least movements of the Elder. Tarras noticed the black dirt that caked the Elder's cracked fingernails.

"Now," said the Elder. "Under the auspices of the God of the Land, how may I serve you?"

Tarras realized he was right: the Village Elder was also the religious leader. The term "avatar" was unfamiliar to him but must have something to do with the peasants' faith. He searched for the right words, not having had a clear plan in mind when he had first entered the shack. "I do not wish to bring the avatars upon myself," Tarras finally said. "Or upon you or anyone else in this village."

"And do you think you have done something to warrant such attention? That the avatars are here because of you?"

"Elder, when exactly did the avatars arrive?"

The Elder frowned. "We should not speak of them directly."

"Please, Elder, this may be of importance to me and my, um, doubts."

The Elder scrutinized Tarras' face. "They have been here for five days," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Tarras finally understood. The "avatars" were the Cohorts. This explained a great deal despite his continued ignorance of what precisely the term meant.

"And what of you?" the Elder demanded.

"Only yesterday and today. Then perhaps I am not--"

"Unless your alleged sins were committed elsewhere. You will tell me what you think you have done wrong."

Tarras recognized the tone, as it was one he once used on underlings: obey my order without question. He feared what would happen if he refused to answer more than he feared answering the question. He was forced to hesitate as he scrambled for something to say.

"I ... ah ... have ... have been tempted."

The Elder remained expectant.

"Tempted," repeated Tarras. "By the sea."

The Elder closed his eyes and lowered his folded hands into his lap. He let out a single, slow sigh. "What woman is responsible for your temptation?"

"A woman not of this village." Tarras' eyes misted as Janna teased him from his memories. "Well over a season ago."

The Elder gave Tarras a tired look. "You are but a single voice in a multitude. You share the same stain upon your spirit as many others. Far too many others."

"I am sorry if I have disappointed you, Elder," said Tarras.

"'Disappoint' is hardly the word I would use. 'Fearful' is more appropriate. I fear the great cleansing which will come upon us once the avatars of our God are convinced of our wickedness." His eyes narrowed. "But do not compound it."

"I have not sinned as such since then," Tarras said, careful to keep the disdain out of his voice. He struggled not to feel animosity towards this man and his simple ways despite how they declared his relationship with Janna to be unclean. He quelled the urge to substitute "barbaric" for "simple."

"That is not what I mean!" the Elder snapped. "Do not be so foolish as to attempt to curry favor with the other gods! They will not listen, and the God of the Land will see to your punishment in death regardless of them, or despite them if they do intervene. Do not believe you can couch it in tradition, or clothe it in false justifications that they are only small devotions, mere appeasements. They will not work, for the God of the Land will abhor such gestures."

Tarras thought back to the woman he had seen conducting her hidden ritual beside the lake. She had used seeds, just as the peasants had done to plant the crops. Was burning them some sort of homage to the God of the Air? Tossing them in the lake homage to the God of the Sea?

"I have done no devotions to other gods, Elder," said Tarras.

The Elder let out a more relieved sigh. "I can only hope more will do as you have done. I fear it is only a matter of time before our crops are blighted and our women are barren. Leave me, before the avatars decide judgment is nigh."

Tarras rose to his feet and bowed his head towards the Elder. He took his shoes in hand and backed out of the shack barefoot.

He peered towards the village as he put his shoes back on. The Cohort had left the inn and was standing just outside, looking towards the narrow path. By the time Tarras' feet were covered once more, the Cohort had turned away and was gone.

Tarras headed further down the path and around the turn. It descended towards the bank of a stream. The water was low, leaving behind a bed of undisturbed mud. Rennis rose from the boulder on which he sat near its edge. "I won't ask you what delayed you this time."

"Perhaps that is for the best," Tarras said in a soft voice. "Have the others had any luck in reestablishing their lordship over the peasants?"

"Some," said Rennis in a flat voice. "Scattered pockets here and there, and only where the Inonni Cohorts are not a constant presence. I swear, Tarras, it's like the peasants are scared of something, and it's not us."

Tarras nodded. "They fear the Inonni."

"That makes no sense. The Inonni don't mistreat them in any way, or even interfere with their day-to-day life. Unless you believe the Inonni are making covert threats to them."

"They are, and don't even realize it."

Rennis sighed. "Now you're making even less sense."

Tarras stepped forward and sat on the boulder, looking out towards the gurgling water as it surged past. "The peasants are very religious, and the Inonni Cohorts apparently represent something fearful from that faith."

"But what?"

"Avatars." Tarras turned his head towards Rennis. "Ever hear the word?"

Rennis picked up a small, water-smoothed stone and shook his head. "Never."

"Then I still have more research to do."

"I don't get this. Religion had never come up before when we dealt with the peasants. Did it ever come up with the Noble Lords?"

"My assumption is that fealty to a Lord -- or an Overlord -- did not tread on their beliefs. So they are free to do as they please in that regard. And we never went around in face-obscuring hoods and long robes. Thus I contend the Inonni are not infallible. For example ..." Tarras described his recent encounters with the Cohorts.

"Gods dammit, Tarras, that's a dangerous game you're playing!" Rennis exploded.

Tarras smiled weakly. "Yes, I had debated whether to tell you or not. But it does illustrate a potential weakness of the Inonni. Did you not consider it strange that none of our group has been caught yet? I doubt many of the Minor Lords are any good at stealth, considering they came from a life where the goal is to be as visible as possible in order to climb the ranks. Old habits will not die so easily."

"Still, I would not go testing it any further, especially for you."

Tarras nodded. "I will lay low for a bit. I will be traveling for another few days anyway. The roads are the last place anyone can be found."

"Where are you headed now?"

"Lerrusburg, most likely. It is not far from here."

Rennis' eyes widened. "That's a major town and port of call! The local Inonni Magistrate is located there."

"I will be careful, as I have said."

"That's not enough. You can't just--!"

Tarras stood. "I have to, Rennis. I need more information, and Lerrusburg has a library. I may find something there which will better explain the source of the friction between the Inonni and the peasants."

"And what if the town's institutions have been turned to the Inonni's purposes?"

"Nonsense, Rennis. Libraries are run by the Philosophers Guild, and we have heard no word that they have been disturbed in any way."

"Nevertheless, someone will go with you."

Tarras sighed. "Really, how will it be any safer if more of our lot travels together?"

"We've recruited some displaced sheriffs and the muscle they used to help enforce the laws. We can get one of them to accompany you."

"I would rather travel alone."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not the only one that's concerned about you, and I've already arranged it. He'll meet you just north of the village."

Tarras frowned, but kept his response to himself. Anything he could say would make him sound like a hypocrite, as he had already tacitly accepted the role of the group's spiritual leader. In light of his recent experiences with the peasants and their religious beliefs, he wondered if this had been a bad decision indeed.

"Tarras, do you have anything to offer that might make it easier to reclaim the peasants' fealty?" Rennis asked.

Tarras now understood a deeper truth. The peasants likely never cared for the way the Lords and Overlords cavorted with nubile young women and men, but there was always a layer of separation between them and the higher social order. Even an Overlord tended to work through a limited number of contacts. Now that layer had been removed at the same time the peasants were concerned about their "sins" being judged.

Tarras collected his thoughts, preparing to explain this to Rennis, then thought better of it. While Tarras meant no disrespect towards the former Overlord, he realized Rennis' mind simply did not operate on a level which could understand the subtle. Rennis preferred everything concrete and tangible.

"Befriend the Village Elders," said Tarras. "And emphasize to them how the old Overlord slave system is gone and likely will never return."

"That is not something I care to admit."

"Even though you know it to be true? As you said yourself?"

"Don't throw my own words back at me," snapped Rennis, though his conviction was weak. "Why is this important?"

"I will explain in detail when I know more," Tarras said. "I should get back on the road. I have already paid for my room at the inn."

"So where will we meet again?"

Tarras considered. "Illton. A tiny village near the sea not far past Lerrusburg. It is up around--"

"Yes, I know where it is. A client of mine once had a summer palace there." Rennis stepped up to Tarras and clasped him on the shoulder. "But I will approach it from the west, so I do not have to see the abandoned palace. I need more time to accept this new world."

A single bolt of blue-white lightning struck in the center of the thick forest, sparking little more than a low rumble which was gone so fast that one would think it a distant wind. Even the waning Portal energies did the disturb the quiet as the tunnel collapsed and folded back on itself as it closed.

The Wanderer made little noise himself as he crept forward, staying low behind thick clumps of bushes which lay between lines of high-canopied trees. Jollis' green-brown attire allowed him to melt into the foliage, his movements evident only by closely observing the disturbances in the dappled sunlight along the ground and underbrush. His breathing was shallow, only the tiniest puffs of air sustaining his tense yet limber body. When he remained still, he became part of the landscape.

Jollis flattened himself against a thick tree trunk and peered around it. He could glimpse the clearing ahead, where he spied a loose ring of rocks between gaps in the trees. This told him at least part of his information was correct.

He crept around the tree and dashed to another, just a flicker against the lush forest backdrop. He avoided catching himself on the sharp tip of a protruding dead branch just below chest level. The tiny patch of ragged cloth he plucked from it told him another who had traversed this path before him had not been as fortunate.

He turned the scrap over several times and rubbed it between his fingertips. It was definitely Mage cloak material. Some of the fibers at the edges had started to rot, and the color was bleached by sunlight.

Jollis came around the side of the tree and dropped, crawling forward through the underbrush. What little noise he made sounded just like a fox scurrying along the ground. Now he saw another stone ring and blackened wood, but no ashes.

Jollis paused at the edge of the clearing and listened, then stood and stepped forward. He counted six stone rings in all. None were complete. Additional stones lay in random locations scattered about the clearing. A few of the rings held charred fragments of wood. He reached down and touched one of them. The only warmth it held was from the afternoon sun.

He scrutinized the ground. No footprints. No remains of meals. Something sparkled in the sunlight as he moved. He stepped over to it and picked up a shard of glass. He held it between the sun and the charred ground inside one of the rings. A rainbow of precisely thirteen unique colors appeared. Mage Glass.

He spotted a depression in the rough center of the clearing, where the earth had been dug out, and then slowly refilled by wind and dust. A pedestal mount.

Jollis allowed himself a slow sigh. As he had anticipated but had hoped against, this place had been long since abandoned by the Rogue Mages.

Jollis wished he had had a chance to speak with the one who had provided this information. It had been relayed to him through Kyllos, who had obtained it from the Holy Order, who in turn had interviewed a Rogue Mage in their employ. Jollis was sure if he had been the interrogator, he would have picked up on some subtle clues which would have given him a better idea of where the other Rogue Mages had gone after they had moved on from here.

Jollis bowed his head and silently prayed for forgiveness. If this is what the Holy Order had provided, than that was all the information there was. In their great wisdom, they would not miss even the most trivial detail. After all, they were the architects of Enlightenment. Minds that could conceive of such a wondrous mission were surely up to a task which was menial by comparison.

His gaze swept the clearing once more. He guessed it had been occupied no less than one season ago, and no more than two seasons. That window of time was large enough to encompass the change in regime at the Mage Guild.

Jollis' eyes came to rest on a gap between two trees to the southeast. He approached it, his gaze searching for what had attracted his attention. Finally he spotted it: a piece of broken limb at the base of the tree to the left. It was pointed away from the clearing. His eyes rose and discovered the jagged stump from which it had broken.

Jollis stepped past the trees. Further into the forest, he found another broken limb. The splinters were soft; it had broken off before winter had set in, and the subsequent freezes had expanded and burst many of the exposed cells.

He found a scratch in the bark of another tree, almost perfectly horizontal. It had been gouged by something metal, like the head of a nail.

Jollis understood. This was a planned migration. All the Rogue Mages had left at once, carrying their belongings in carts, and they had traveled southeast.

Jollis returned to the clearing, his hand emerging from a pocket and opening to reveal a Farviewing pearl. He started to wave his hand over it, then abruptly aborted the summons with a quick close of his hand and a sudden dive and roll. In a single breath he was hidden from view behind a boulder. To the person who was about to sneak into the clearing, it would appear as if he had vanished into thin air.

Except there was no one, and the forest remained still.

Jollis crept out from behind the boulder, paused another moment, then slowly stood. Now that was quite odd, he thought with both concern and wry amusement. Had his mind wandered? He did sometimes feel as if part of his psyche were still at the foot of the Holy Mountain.

He lifted the Farviewing pearl once more and waved his hand over it, his eyes darting to either side just before the image of a Cohort wavered into view. The image bowed. "What may I do for my Wanderer?"

"Activate your Portal," said Jollis. "I am finished here for now."

Silence descended like a lead plate in the Guildmaster's office when the Farview image of Marlon disappeared. Uroddus and his chair may have well been a statue. Q'kollan finally leaned over to him and said in a soft voice, "I would strongly suggest, Guildmaster, that what we just heard remains in this office."

Katla uttered a tiny sigh and gave him single small nod of her head.

"You know how I feel about hoarding information," said Uroddus as he leaned forward.

"This is not hoarding. You seek no personal gain for keeping this information to yourself."

"I don't like it either, but he's right," Katla said in a reluctant voice. "If the others hear that some of the Rogue -- that is, some of the expatriates," Katla corrected herself in an irritated voice when Uroddus gave her a meaningful look. "Have gone over to the Inonni of their own choice, that will just raise more cries of them being traitors."

Uroddus continued to look at her. "You appear not to think very highly of them yourself."

"Can you blame me for being upset at them --- well, some of them, anyway -- for casting their ethics by the wayside in exchange for some platinum?"

"I suggest you take that as a small measure of what you would face if that bit of information were released," Q'kollan said.

"All right, understood," Uroddus said.

"We know you're nothing like Q'ixanna, Guildmaster," Katla said, stumbling over the title.

"Not all of Q'ixanna's decisions to withhold information could be classified as hoarding," said Q'kollan. "Especially earlier in his career. There was the time during the--"

"I really wish you would stop defending him, Master Q'kollan," Katla said.

"I merely wish to remind people that we should not demonize the former Guildmaster to the point where we turn him into a complete monster just to have a convenient target for our present woes. Blaming past Guildmasters for our problems is another political machination that needs to be dismantled."

"Understood," Uroddus said, speaking over Katla's attempt to reply. "Let's move on."

Katla silenced herself, but not before shooting a glare at her lover.

"I am not completely comfortable with Marlon's suggested approach to gleaning more information on this Overlord Portal," said Q'kollan. "Do we need further energy readings that badly? I would say the fact that the Inonni are keeping them powered is enough to tell us they are up to something."

"But it doesn't tell us what," Katla said. Her voice was slightly peevish, chafing from having been subjected to the Guildmaster's authority twice. "It still makes little sense. Maybe if they had only one such Portal powered, but we're detecting more than one now."

"This is new information to me," Uroddus said.

"We just found out before you called us into your office. We count about five of them. We were able to confirm through the Ne'land merchant clan leader Uridon that several of them were visited by those higher-up Cohorts."

"Higher-up Cohorts?" Q'kollan said.

"Like the one Marlon showed us in his spying images."

"Yes, that reminds me, that should be another bit of information we keep to ourselves," said Q'kollan, his voice tense. "I must admit, I balked at the idea that they have been spying on us."

Uroddus nodded his agreement to Q'kollan before turning back to Katla. "I'm curious as to why you believe these Cohorts to be further up in their hierarchy."

"In the images Marlon showed us, the Cohorts looked older, and their garb was different," said Katla. "Until now, we never saw any Cohorts in anything but those floppy hoods, and the few times we saw a Cohort's face, it was never more than middle-aged. I did some quick calculations and estimated a seventy-three percent probability they are from the higher echelons of Inonni society."

"Which would tend to imply that whatever they are doing with these Overlord Portals is of paramount importance to them," Uroddus said.

"Not to mention the security looks pretty tight. Those men with the staffs look like the ones who were used to take the Overlord Manors."

"The bottom line is:" Q'kollan said. "Do we really need more energy readings on these Portals, or is this more of a political matter now?"

"We most certainly do need them!" Katla piped. "Otherwise the Empiricists will have no solid data to determine the formulae behind trans-universe Portals."

"I would suggest that is not as important at the moment."

"Don't belittle it just because you think the Traditionalists have a lock and key on the truth. We've more than proven ourselves, and--"

"Please, that's enough," said Uroddus. "This isn't helping."

Katla stared at Uroddus, and her lips drew to a thin line. She dropped her gaze to her parchments, which she shuffled in her hands with sharp snaps of her wrists.

Uroddus stared at her for another moment, his face betraying some bewilderment, before turning his gaze towards Q'kollan. "I concur with Master Q'yoona for the moment, but I will inform Marlon that he's not to take extraordinary risks."

Katla muttered something intelligible, her eyes still on her parchments.

"If no one has anything else, I'll adjourn this meeting," said Uroddus.

Both Q'kollan and Katla rose. The former headed for the door. Katla turned towards it, then only stared at it.

"Yes?" Uroddus said.

Q'kollan turned just as Katla spun around to face the Guildmaster. "I need to speak with you. In private."

"I would rather we keep all communication open and above board. Since Master Q'kollan is still here--"

"This has nothing to do with the current crisis." Katla stepped close to Uroddus and said in a near whisper, "Please, for once, don't be so dense."

Q'kollan, who already understood simply from the tone of Katla's voice, turned towards the door once more. "I will take my leave. You know where to reach me if you need me, Guildmaster."

Uroddus let out a slow sigh through his nose as the door closed behind Q'kollan. "I'm sorry, Katla," he said in a soft voice.

"At least you remember my given name. I guess I should be grateful for that."

"Please, we've been through this before. You know I cannot show the least bit of favoritism."

"But we barely even talk to each other outside the confines of Guild business." Katla turned her back to him and threw her parchments down upon the Guildmaster's desk. "Or do anything else for that matter."

She braced herself, her eyes downcast, her arms wrapped around herself. She was sure he was going to be as clueless as he had been when she had first realized her feelings for him. Then she would be able to do little more than rail at him; or burst into tears; or flee without saying a word.

She flinched when his hands grasped her shoulders, then a gusty sigh passed her lips when he squeezed her gently. She turned around and embraced him, closing her eyes as she ducked her head under his chin and pressed her face to his chest. "Sometimes I hate the fact that you became Guildmaster."

"Do those scribbled formulae you left on the parchment scrap beside the bed have anything to do with that?"

If he had asked it in anything but a neutral voice, Katla would have interpreted it as either disapproval or amusement, both of which would have infuriated her. Yet now she found herself wishing for one or the other. "They were calculations attempting to prove someone else would be better suited to handle the Guildmaster position," she said, mimicking his own stoic voice despite the slight quaver to it.

"You don't appear to have been successful."

Katla looked up, planting her hands against his chest. "Wait, you knew what they were? What I was doing?" Her hands curled into fists. "And you let me keep doing it?"

"Katla, I didn't think it would have been constructive to confront you over it."

Katla shoved him in the chest and broke out of the embrace. "I would have preferred a confrontation, gods dammit! At least then I'd know you still had some of that passion left."

"I don't understand."

"That's the problem, Uroddus. Gods, it seems strange anymore to use your name. I don't think I've spoken it in the last half moon."

"We've both been busy," said Uroddus in a softer voice. "It was unavoidable."

"No, it wasn't! Okay, fine, you don't understand, so I'll explain it to you. Again. Yes, you had a passion. It was reserved, but it was there, whether it was for a cause or for me. Now I can barely see it anymore."

"I still care about you and this Guild Hall."

"Where the Guild Hall is concerned, what you have now is drive. That's different from passion. I'm not sure what you have for me."

Uroddus stepped forward. When Katla started to back away, he grasped her arms, keeping his eyes locked to hers. Katla's eyes widened, her arms going stiff, as if at a total loss as to how to command her own body in response. He took advantage of it and pulled her close.

He brought his face to hers. Katla let out a ragged breath and very nearly kissed him, her mouth hovering only a few finger-widths from his. She tensed her body just to avoid trembling.

"I can't quantify what I have for you," Uroddus said. "Don't ask me to. I could not do that any more than I could write a formula describing my feelings towards you."

"I never asked you to do either," said Katla, raising her voice to cover the lingering quaver within it. For a moment, she thought it would drive him away. Instead, his mouth still hovered close to hers, his eyes intense. She dared to think he was showing some of what she had so yearned to see again.

"You suggested at least the former."

Katla glared at him and drew back, the urge to show him the passion that had been lacking now fading. "It isn't a zero-sum game, Uroddus!"

Uroddus loosened his hold on her. Katla glanced at his hands as if disappointed. "You're right, it's not. But one thing you need to understand, Katla. I cannot fail."

"Fail? At what? At being Guildmaster?"

"Yes."

Katla had no immediate response. She had not expected this sort of reply.

"If the crisis were not upon us, if this were just a change in regime to rid ourselves of a Guildmaster who had long passed his prime, then I would have the luxury of failing. You yourself have seen you could not make the numbers work for someone other than me in this position."

For a moment, Katla's eyes betrayed wry amusement. "If that had come from anyone else, I would accuse him of having a rather big ego."

"But not me?"

"No, not you."

"Why?"

Katla flinched as if something had flown at her face. "Because I know you. You wouldn't act that way."

"Then why can't you know I still love you?"

Katla's lips parted, her eyes wide and glistening. "It's not enough to just know, to just assume it. And no, I can't quantify that, either."

Uroddus slowly tightened his hold on her again. "You're trembling."

Katla wanted to explain it, but no words would come to her. She could spend a day trying to explain how one simple phrase had shaken her free of some of her doubt. It did little for her yearning for his company.

And it did nothing for her lust.

She stared into his eyes, silently begging for some comprehension from them, that he could understand without the need of explanation. Though she understood him better now. To carry on as Guildmaster, he had refined his mind to the point where it operated at peak efficiency to deal with both the crisis and a fractured Oceanus magery. It left him little time for distractions, and expressing his feelings to Katla was a distraction.

She thought she should be more angry than she was. Perhaps she saw something more in his eyes when he spoke those few tender words than she cared to admit, lest it no longer justify her anger and frustration.

Her hands clenched as moist heat gathered in her folds. She drew in a breath and let it go as a slow, quivering sigh.

"I can't fail," Uroddus said.

Katla gasped. His voice sounded strained, even pleading. She realized only now that in all the time she had known him, he had never expressed thoughts of failure or its consequences. He always deferred such things to a later time that never came, for he would always accomplish what he had set out to do.

In that moment, he was much less a Guildmaster and much more a man.

Katla drew herself to him, her lips meeting his. To her relief, then to her rising desire, he returned the kiss, his arms tightening around her. She moaned into his mouth as heat flared once more in her nether regions.

Katla broke off the kiss only slowly, and for a moment felt Uroddus' mouth trying to follow hers. Now she felt him trembling.

"And I don't want to fail you, Katla," Uroddus said in a small, unsteady voice.

"Then let the Guild go as it may for a few candlemarks."

Uroddus hesitated, his hands roaming up and down her back, as if searching.

"Your relationship to the Guild is not a zero-sum game, either," Katla said.

Uroddus' hands stopped. Katla felt some of the tension leave his body. His hands slid over her rear, and she uttered a slow, husky sigh.

"Maybe I will understand that some day," Uroddus said. "But for now, I can simply accept it."

Uroddus flicked his hand. The lights in the Guildmaster's office dimmed until only bare flickers of flame remained in the torches. Katla lay her head against his shoulder as they slipped through the darkness and into their bedchamber.

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