Illton was barely a village. This tiny sliver of bare civilization which curved around an ill-placed inlet had seen most of its sea traffic go to the larger port in Lerrusburg just to the south. The sea merchants came to this hamlet only when the ports at Lerrusburg were too busy or its taverns too full.

The commercial center of Illton centered around a lone tavern, itself a decayed hulk with walls held up by hastily tacked on timbers, the placement of the nails marked by streaks of rust. Most of the nearby shops were closed with signs which told one to find the owner in his residence if you really wanted to buy something, and a dusty town square surrounded a cracked, empty dais. Beyond lay sparse dwellings and a few small fields of wheat and vegetables.

"I know this place," said Frenon, shouldering his crossbow. "I believe it was once planned as an extension of Lerrusburg."

Tarras lowered his hood. "It appears those plans were for naught."

"Likely a Noble who decided to invest his platinum elsewhere." He looked at Tarras and frowned. "You should not reveal yourself out in the open."

"There are no Cohorts here, as they do not appear to bother with such tiny villages. The main road bypasses this place, so it is unlikely we will encounter anyone passing through."

Frenon wore an expression indicative of his thoughts on the matter but said nothing in protest. "Do you know where you are to meet Rennis?"

"We did not settle on an exact location. He has a tendency to find me ... as I believe he is about to do now."

From the tavern, a figure had emerged, a traveler's hood obscuring his face. The rest of his clothing, however, was recognizable. Tarras thought it ironic that the man who complained so much about Tarras being recognized varied his own attire very little, save to tack on things like the hood as an apparent afterthought.

The figure glanced about as he crossed the square, then finally uttered a sigh and lowered his hood. "I suppose I should not care anymore about discovery," he said in a sour voice.

Tarras smiled. "Well met, Rennis."

Rennis turned to Frenon. "So you managed to protect him after all."

"He made it difficult for me, but, yes, I managed it," said Frenon.

"It was well worth it," Tarras said. "For I have learned much about the Inonni's standing with the peasants."

Rennis' face hardened, but he forced a curt nod. "I should have expected that would be the very first topic on your lips."

"It is as I had suspected, Rennis: the peasants are indeed the key to stopping the Inonni, but perhaps not quite in the way I had intended."

"Oh really?" Rennis said with a small sneer. "I suppose you can give us some insight on what the rest of us are doing wrong."

Tarras tilted his head. "Doing wrong? Oh, do you mean your attempts to befriend the Village Elders?"

"It has been little more than an exercise in frustration."

"Yes, you are right, that was horrible advice on my part."

Rennis stared, then rolled his eyes skyward and threw up his hands. "Then why in blazing hellfire did you--!"

"Because I was working on erroneous assumptions. But I will gamble you had luck with the idea the Overlord system would not return."

Rennis' face looked strained. "In the few times I could force myself to say it, yes. But they still wanted little to do with the former Nobility or Overlords. Though in some cases it seemed like a difficult choice."

"And I can offer you insight on that matter if--"

"Pardon, my Lords," said Frenon as he stepped into their midst. "But I see a plume of dust on the road to the south. Some traffic is likely coming this way from Lerrusburg. We should not remain out here."

Rennis yanked his hood back up. "This way."

The former Overlord led the others to the edge of the square, away from the sea, and down a path overgrown with underbrush. "Where are we headed?" Frenon asked. He brandished his weapon. "Should I take the lead?"

"No, we're safe for the moment, soon as we get to the edge of town."

"And what is there?" Tarras asked.

"A place to stay. And beyond that ... a gathering place."

Tarras jogged to catch up with Rennis, though the narrow path would not allow him to walk alongside. "I beg your pardon?"

"We have organized a group of former minor Lords and Ladies, some Sheriffs and other administrative officials, and heir-apparents of former Noble Lords."

"For what purpose?"

Rennis stopped and turned, and Tarras nearly ran into him. "To rally."

"I beg your pardon?"

"To rally them, Tarras. They need to be focused. They need a morale boost. And they need a leader."

Tarras sighed. "Rennis--"

"I do not want to hear it! I am tired of trying to convince you of the significance of your leadership."

"So you choose instead to simply thrust it upon me."

"You seem to do best in that situation. I do not like throwing it in your face, but it is necessary."

"I have nothing to say to them," Tarras said in a flat voice.

"It will be a few days before they get here. You will have that time to figure out what to tell them."

"Then we will need to answer a crucial question," said Tarras. "What are we fighting for?"

Rennis stared, his eyes wide.

Tarras nodded in satisfaction. "So I am not the only one to have asked that question. A small comfort, I suppose. Who was it? Uridon, perhaps? Though a bit surprising, coming from a merchant."

"It was Q'garra, the Mage Guildmaster," said Rennis in a hollow voice.

Tarras' eyebrows rose. "Really? Then he is indeed the most forward-thinking Guildmaster the Mages have had in a long time. Do you have his Farviewing pearl with you?"

Rennis stiffened. "Yes, I have it."

"Capital. Then I may indeed have something to say at this rally once I have had a chance to consult with the esteemed Guildmaster."

Frenon blanched.

"You can't do that!" Rennis exploded. "Don't you know anything about history?"

"Really, Rennis, I would kindly ask you not insult me even if you--"

"Mages cannot be involved in the governing process!"

Tarras fell silent, and gave Rennis a look of both expectation and forced patience.

"They cannot be involved even peripherally. People will think we want to go back to the days when Mages ruled as Emperors."

"Utter nonsense," Tarras snapped.

Rennis recoiled as if struck.

"This is not about who will rule or how. This is about the very structure of the future society of Oceanus. Get this through your head, Rennis: the old structure is gone and will never return. If you are expecting me to make some glorious speech about how we will rebuild the fortunes of those who have been deposed from power, then you should select yourself a new leader, for I refuse to tell them something I know will never be."

Absolute silence followed in Tarras' wake. Behind him, Frenon shouldered his crossbow and looked on with interest.

"The old rules no longer apply," Tarras said in a lower voice. "If we're to create something in the place of the Inonni, it has to be from the ground up."

Rennis paused for another few breaths before he finally said in a measured voice, "Next you will be telling me we need to reject Monarchism."

Both Frenon's and Rennis' gazes were tense as they lay upon the former Noble Lord. Finally, Tarras said in a low voice, "I do not know."

Frenon raised a single eyebrow, but otherwise did not react. Rennis remained stone-faced. "Well, it would be interesting to hear Emperor Duric Z'garon's thoughts on that," Rennis said with a slight acid tone to his voice.

"I said I do not know," Tarras declared. "You see, Rennis? This is what I am talking about. There are no simple answers. From your tone, you fear I am about to reopen the debate of Republicanism versus Monarchism. My point is even that argument may be moot. It is too simplistic a dichotomy. It is too black and white. Do you understand now?"

Rennis uttered a sigh. "No, I don't. But maybe that's just my problem." He frowned. "I was an Overlord. That is all I ever was. I was not a politician, except when circumstance forced it upon me. But I do understand something you finally made me see. Whatever this new society of yours comes to be, I will have no part of it."

"Rennis, do not reject it until you know what it is. I do not even know what it--"

"That is not what I mean!" Rennis shouted. "I will have no part of it because there will be no part for me to play. I will be of no further use."

Tarras' eyes saddened. "I am sorry," he said in a softer voice. "I had no idea this is what you were really concerned about."

Rennis waved his hand and sneered. "Spare me your pity. All I ask is you stop trying to convince me of the merits of this new future, for I will never be able to accept it."

Tarras wanted to say something in reply, but no words would come to him.

"So my answer to the question 'what are we fighting for' is: I don't care anymore. From this point on, I will do whatever is asked of me to help rid Oceanus of the Inonni, but then my part is done. I will fade into retirement like Vanlo." His face became drawn. "Or maybe I'll die in the attempt to oust the Inonni. Maybe then I will have served some useful purpose."

Before Tarras could say a word, Rennis spun around and marched down the path. Tarras uttered a small, forlorn sigh as Frenon watched in apparent equanimity. They set out after Rennis, but not another word was exchanged between the three.

Jollis roused himself from a troubled sleep.

Nothing would have pleased him more than to discover Jothan had indeed had malevolent intent. According to the tenets of his own faith, he could declare as such now, as Jothan was clearly acting against the benevolent guidance of the Inonni. If not malevolent, certainly barbaric.

And yet he refused to accept such a simple dichotomy.

The moment he ventured forth from his sleeping chamber, his two loyal Cohorts stood before him. He found the adjective "loyal" most distasteful. It implied few could be trusted beyond this tiny circle.

"Have you more news?" said Jollis.

The Cohorts would have looked askance at the avoidance of tradition only a day before. In Inonni society, one always greeted the morning with salutations and an invitation to partake of a morning meal before any business was discussed. Yet now they appeared relieved to be given leave to speak.

"We have spent much of the night retracing Jothan's steps to ascertain his purpose and intent," said Rolas.

Hurus flexed his laced fingers. "It was necessary ... for some deception on our part."

Jollis waved a hand. "You are absolved. The greater good is what matters. Continue and dwell on it no more."

"As best as we can determine, he was searching for something outside the Manor grounds. We do not know what or exactly where he was searching."

"Though we believe he was in the vicinity of the old tradesman's hut," said Rolas.

Jollis eyebrows rose, and he clamped down on his emotions. Would nothing cease to remind him of Amanda? How could his discipline be slipping away so fast? "Is there still no sign of Jothan?"

"None, Wanderer," said Hurus. "And Mage Verano was observed visiting Jothan's residence. He spent long enough to have searched it."

"Did he find anything?"

"Nothing we could see."

"And what of deciphering the runes from the pearl?"

"The task continues. We have only one fellow Cohort who had any Mage training, and he had only just reached Journeyman before he left the Mages and joined the Cohorts."

Jollis tried not to let his face reflect the foul taste in his mouth left by his next question. "Can he be trusted?"

"I will vouch for him, Wanderer," said Rolas in earnest. "I have known him for some time. He was most displeased to learn of our suspicions, but he is more concerned for the greater good." Rolas paused. "He hopes you are wrong."

"No one wishes so more than I," Jollis said. "Is there anything else?"

Rolas glanced at his companion. Hurus said in a cautious voice, "Just before dawn, the warriors once more cleared the area around the gate."

"Again?"

"Yes, and we believe Mage Verano was behind it once more. We caught only a glimpse from a distance as he left the Manor, accompanied by two Cohorts carrying something."

Jollis frowned. "Carrying what?"

"We do not know, yet it was large and heavy enough to require two people to carry it. It was wrapped in some sort of cloth."

Jollis considered. "Do you know where Mage Verano is at this moment?"

"He has morning meal with Elder Yurton every day, Wanderer," Hurus said. "We assume he is there."

Jollis nodded. "I will require a means to get outside the Manor without being detected while the Mage and the Elder are occupied."

The Cohorts exchanged an uncertain look before Rolas spoke. "Wanderer, the gate is always guarded. Surely they will let you by, but they may alert Mage Verano or Elder Yurton."

"The gate is largely for show," said Jollis. "No fence defines the perimeter, only jungle foliage thick enough to discourage casual attempts to circumvent the gate."

"Wards exist to detect movement, however."

"Ground movement, most likely, to catch clumsy attempts at infiltration. I will be traveling considerably higher."

Rolas stepped forward. "I do not like this, Honored Wanderer. You are taking a great risk. Perhaps I could go in your stead."

Jollis smiled. "You honor me with your concern and your bravery, even if the latter is misplaced. You do not have the skills I command. You can, however, assist in one part of the effort."

"Yes, anything."

"While the most expedient route would be the jungle between the gate and the sea, that will make it easier to spot me. I will instead cross the perimeter from the other side. I will require a moment of diversion so the Cohorts at the gate will not see me cross the road."

Hurus stepped forward. "We will make it so. Tell us what you want us to do."

Jollis began changing his clothes to prepare himself for his impromptu mission. "Now listen closely, as we do not have much time ..."

Q'kollan rushed through the corridors of the Mage Guild clutching several scrolls to his chest. He nearly dropped them when his tired legs faltered as he clambered up the steps from the testing caverns, where the apprentice Mages performed their coursework behind the relative safety of many arm-lengths of solid rock. A few tendrils of smoke from a failed experiment curled about his feet until he reached the top of the stairs.

The Mage Elder fought against the tide of younger Mages heading for morning meal and finally intercepted Uroddus and Katla at the head of the hallway leading to the Guildmaster's office. "There you are," he said in a winded voice as he staggered before them.

Katla's eyes widened. "You look terrible!"

Q'kollan gave her a wan smile. "As tactful as always, I see."

"Are you quite all right?" Uroddus asked. "You do look as if you have been up all night."

"That is because I have. I have forgotten just how much stamina the young appear to have these days."

Katla tilted her head. "The young?"

"Ah, you followed my advice," said the Guildmaster.

"I did indeed," said Q'kollan. "And found they were all too eager to burn the oil all night."

"I don't understand," Katla said.

"I suggested he use the same technique that Most Honored Mage Q'yros had used while searching for clues about the Inonni Portals," said Uroddus. "Allow the apprentices and journeymen to contemplate the problem, as they often come up with theories the older Mages may not consider."

"Which has come to fruition," Q'kollan said. "Thus I implore we return to your office so I may present their findings before I get some well-needed sleep."

"Of course."

Upon their prompt return to Uroddus' office, Q'kollan surged forward and dropped the scrolls onto the desk. Katla pounced upon them immediately and muttered short incantations over each scroll as she unrolled it to force it to remain flat.

Q'kollan fell into a chair in the corner. "I'll summarize. Essentially, it appears my theory may be correct. What you see there is a progressive series of experiments with the old Overlord Portal, the energies a little more refined each time."

"As if they were learning over time how to properly operate the transdimensional nature of the Portal," Uroddus said.

Katla uttered a small gasp as she read over a key formula. "Yes, look here! It's like they're trying to build up some sort of master equation to apply to the energies to control the Portal. This looks like some of the early work we did."

"Yes, I thought you would recognize it," Q'kollan said.

Katla looked up. "But we're already far beyond this point. And they've already made a basic mistake here. This particular numeric transformation can't be applied to--"

"Look at the next scroll."

Katla's gaze darted to the next one. "Oh, yes, I see. They corrected that." She snorted. "Only to make yet another mistake!"

"The point is, Master Q'yoona, it is very clear the vaunted Inonni Portal technology does not include the knowledge to properly operate a transdimensional Portal."

"And they are using the Overlord Portals to educate themselves," Uroddus said. "Interesting."

"And attempting to cover it up. It's important we don't forget that fact."

"Yes, I agree. They obviously do no want anyone to know of their weakness in this area." Uroddus leaned back in his seat. "This experimentation looks too organized to be a spur-of-the-moment project. Their conquest of Oceanus could have been a means to obtain Portals just for such experimentation."

Katla looked up. "But who's to say they're not doing this sort of experimentation in their own homelands as well?"

Q'kollan shook his head. "One of the lesser known facts about transdimensional Portals is when enough are used for a long enough period of time, a faint resonance is left behind which can be detected over vast distances. It shows up as a sort of 'haze' to someone with particularly strong Mage Sight using a powerful distance viewer. Such hazes have been seen over Oceanus and parts of the Urisi Nation. None have ever been detected elsewhere."

Katla frowned. "They never taught us that."

Q'kollan gave her a polite smile. "Another example of the subtle bias among the Mage Elders against the transdimensional Portals."

Uroddus steepled his fingers. "Do we have enough data to estimate how long until the Inonni achieve a working transdimensional Portal?"

"I don't see how they can," Katla declared. "They're taking a purely Empiricist approach, and we're realizing it might not be enough."

"Then consider this question instead: how long until they attain an Empiricist understanding of transdimensional Portal mechanics equal to our own?"

Katla cast her gaze down to the parchments. "I'd have to run this by the others to get some accurate numbers, but I'd guess not more than another quarter to half moon."

"So we have a quarter moon to devise some sort of counter-move."

Katla's eyes widened. Q'kollan forced himself to his feet with a grunt and said, "I beg your pardon, Guildmaster?"

"What counter-move?" Katla demanded. "How could we possibly stop what they're doing short of destroying the Overlord Portals?"

"That is exactly my thought," said Uroddus.

"You're crazy!"

Q'kollan raised an eyebrow and looked askance at Katla.

"No, he is!" Katla protested. "How are we supposed to do that short of an open attack on the Portals themselves? We saw how well that worked the night the Inonni invaded."

Uroddus slipped off his spectacles but put them back on at a single glare from Katla. "I was not thinking of an attack in the conventional sense. I would direct our efforts towards finding a way to strike from a distance. For example, Overlord Portals double as foci for other Overlord Portals. It is how Overlords visited one another quickly when they needed to confer on political matters."

"What, you mean use one Portal to disrupt another Portal?"

"Something along those lines, yes."

Q'kollan stepped forward. "I do not see how that would work at all, Guildmaster. When one attempts to activate a Portal to a location where another Portal is already active, the second Portal simply does not work. No interference is generated."

Katla's gaze dropped to the scrolls again.

"Conventional Portals, yes," Uroddus said. "But transdimensional Portals operate on a different set of theories and upon different energies."

"Yes, true, but nothing about those energies suggests they would do anything more than simply pass through each other without--"

"Wait!" Katla suddenly cried. She snatched two of the scrolls from the desk, sending Q'kollan scrambling to catch the unopened ones she had bumped over the edge. Her eyes darted back and forth. "Yes, that's it. That might work."

"You have something?" Uroddus said.

"I might. The Inonni are still on a pure Empiricist path, so everything they're doing is strictly according to formula. For the conventional Portals, we've worked out those formulae down to the last decimal point. All we have to do is combine the two sets of equations, and from that derive another equation which resolves to zero, meaning the two sets of energies cancel each other out. That will give us the formula we need to open a conventional Portal atop a transdimensional Portal and stop it."

"Can you take that further by generating energies which will damage the target Portal?"

"If we can resolve the derived equation to negative numbers, yes. But that's a big 'if' right now."

"I do admit," Q'kollan began. "This is something a Traditionalist approach would never have seen. I am still skeptical anything will come of it, however."

"But this is better than no lead at all," Uroddus said. He rose from his chair. "We'll get on this right after breakfast."

"In that case, I will take the opportunity to get some sleep," said Q'kollan.

"Yes, please do. Thank you for your insights."

Q'kollan gave them a small smile and left.

Katla acknowledged the older Mage's departure with only a glance, her eyes immediately returning to the scrolls. She sighed. "Mage Q'kollan may be right. This may not work after all."

"I would try anyway."

Katla looked up and smirked. "Of course I will. Anything which can disrupt the Inonni will be worth it."

In the past, every mission of the sort Jollis had set for himself held a certain bit of excitement. He would even go so far as to admit he felt a small thrill at the subtle art of infiltration and espionage. Yet he could summon no such feeling as he faced the thick jungle which formed the northern border of the former Overlord Manor. What lay ahead was little more than a distasteful task which he should never have had need to perform. Only his dedication to Master Kyllos stopped him from falling prey to despair.

Yet he would not allow himself to put anything less than maximum effort into this task. In fact, he had to give more. He had to push himself past his limits.

From his concealed position among the low foliage which edged the north path, he extended his hand towards the trees. He sensed the pulsations of ward magic almost at once, and snatched his hand away when its "feel" began to change. Jollis frowned. The wards were more sensitive than he had thought.

Jollis crawled along the edge of the path until he came upon the base of a sturdy palm tree. He had hoped for one further away from the path. He would be exposed to anyone who walked by. Yet he had no choice; this was his best opportunity.

Jollis paused to listen for movement, looked both ways down the path, then leapt upward. A muffled thunk accompanied the thrust of a spike into the bark, and he clung to the tree one man's height above the ground. He took one last look in either direction, then shimmied up another man's height, sliding a quarter of the way around the trunk to both better conceal himself from the Cohorts at the gate and to allow him access to the space above the wards.

He set another spike with one hand, then extended the other into the air towards the trees. He felt the tingling energies of the wards at once and withdrew. He climbed another man's height and repeated the test. Again, the energies were as strong as before.

Jollis tried another two man-heights, and the trunk began to bend from his weight. He waited for the tree to stop swaying, then extended his hand once more. Finally, the ward energy was weaker.

Jollis looked up. He could not go much further before he would tax the ability of the tree to remain upright. The tree he had chosen was young, not much more than a sapling.

He chanced another two man-heights, and scrambled to turn himself further towards the road side when the tree threatened to dip him into range of the wards. He paused until the tree settled, then tested the air for magic once more. With some chagrin he noted he could still sense the energies, albeit further weakened. It would have to do.

Jollis spotted his target: another tree on the other side of the wards. It was not much bigger than the tree to which he now clung. It would be too flexible to hold him and let him climb down its trunk in an orderly fashion. He'd have to risk a jump to the ground.

He closed his eyes for a moment and cleared his head. Such a delay was usually unthinkable; anything could happen in the space of a few breaths. Yet his thoughts disturbed him, and he needed to quell them for now. So many questions demanded answers he could not give.

For once, Jollis wanted to play the part of the fool. He wanted to be chastised and punished by those he knew were -- should be -- far wiser than he. And in his tumultuous state, he thought it appropriate were he to falter in his jump and plummet to the ground, thus removing himself as ...

Jollis took a slow, deep breath, and entered a mediative state for a moment to dispel such heinous thoughts. Perhaps he would be the fool in the end, but he would certainly be the fool now if he abandoned his task. The wise man is the one who tries and fails, he reminded himself. It is the fool who never tries.

Jollis slowly opened his eyes. He judged the distance to his target and jostled the tree to which he clung to get a better feel for its flexibility. His muscles tensed like a coil tightening and remained so for one more breath.

Jollis whipped himself around the tree, forcing it to sway towards the road. It bent to its limit, then whipped back the other way. He swung himself around and launched himself into the air in a shallow but quick arc over the wards. As he left the tree, he wrenched his body around like a cat. His arms were already extended when the target tree came rushing at him.

His aim was off. Instead of the tree appearing dead ahead, it lay a distressing offset to the right.

Jollis could not pause to lament his situation. He extended his right arm and tensed it just before it impacted the trunk of the tree. His arm survived being broken or its joints dislocated, but his body pivoted and slammed into the tree before he could brace himself.

The blow knocked the wind out of him, but he steeled himself against the pain, lest his grip loosen and drop him to the ground. Instead, he held on for those few more crucial moments as the tree bent with his weight. Yet even his vaunted endurance had its limits, and the trunk whipped out of his grip as it rebounded.

Jollis managed to kick off from the trunk before it left him, spinning him around to a better position for landing. Yet his release from the tree had been early, and he had not had time to calculate a better trajectory. He did not turn far enough and thus imparted far more force than anticipated on one foot as he touched down. Pain seared through his ankle as he launched into a roll. He crashed into the underbrush, burning cuts slashing across his arms and face before he came to rest upon his back.

Jollis panted hard and trembled as the full force of the pain sliced through his mental discipline like scythes. He took a single, long, shaky breath as he fought to put his agony in perspective and thus dampen its effect. He quelled any regrets or laments and focused on what he needed to do rather than what had already been done, such as removing himself from the razorleaf bush upon which he had landed.

Jollis crawled away and glanced at his arms. Most of the cuts had already stopped bleeding, appearing as little more than very thin but angry red lines. Each one burned like a coal. Razorleaf tended to inflict deep but thin cuts, where its sap could burn as an effective deterrent to most plant-eating animals.

He tried to stand. The injured ankle bore his weight, albeit with excruciating pain. He could feel it starting to swell in his boot. Not broken, but very likely badly sprained.

Jollis dropped to the ground. He yanked off his boot and ripped a strip of cloth from his shirt. He wrapped the cloth tight around the ankle before sliding it back into his boot.

He glanced towards the Manor grounds. All seemed still. He heard no commotion or approaching footfalls. That he had succeeded at the first part of his task was a small consolation.

He took a deep breath and stood once more, drawing on his pain as source of strength. This would serve as part of his punishment when he discovered he had been wrong all along, that everything his brethren were doing was in accordance with the Inonni Path of Enlightenment.

Jollis advanced and ducked down into the underbrush as he approached the edge of the road leading to the gate. He heard the scrape of a sandal against dusty ground. He was closer to the gate than he had anticipated. No matter; like everything else, this would have to do.

He concealed himself and withdrew a Farviewing pearl. He waved his hand over it, then tucked it back in his pocket. The summons would not be answered with a Farview audience; it was merely a signal to his loyal Cohorts.

Jollis was left alone with his thoughts, which wandered inevitably to Amanda. He wondered what she would think of this turn of events. Would she have any sympathy for him at all? Or would she be content that this was just and proper retribution? He wanted to believe the former. Whether he deserved such sympathy was not the point; it simply fit better with his own ideal of her.

For the first time, Jollis feared for Amanda. He had known Mage Verano only by name. Verano had held a lofty position, placed upon the highest pedestal Jollis could conjure. Through him, Amanda would be the key to all the Inonni plans. Jollis had trusted a man he had never met with something more precious than his own life: Amanda's safety. Verano was to make it all possible.

The wait seemed an eternity, but he finally sensed the Farview summons which signaled his Cohorts had done their job. Caution was moot now; either they had completed their task successfully or they had not. Jollis emerged from the jungle and started across the road. He turned his head towards the gate and almost paused at what he saw.

The two Cohorts who guarded the gate, as well as Rolas and Hurus, had knelt and leaned forward, placing their hands upon the ground and bowing their heads low. Jollis recognized the arrangement as a classic symbol of abasement towards the goddess from an unworthy supplicant. As the goddess was believed to dwell within the planet itself, it was traditional to place oneself as close to the ground as possible.

Tradition also dictated that she tended to appear to mortals about the equator, the lushest part of the planet -- and, conveniently, facing in the opposite direction of the road.

Jollis was given pause not so much by the audacity of using such a sacred rite as a means of distraction for a mission of espionage against their own people, but how they had managed to convince the guards they were in need of such ritual spiritual cleansing. He wondered if he had perhaps underestimated their abilities.

But there was no time to dwell on such things. His ankle throbbed and threatened to distract him. He tightened his muscles as well as his resolve before crossing the road. He discovered to his dismay in the space of only a small number of steps that his ankle would not bear his weight as well as he wished.

Jollis took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes to focus his thoughts away from his pain and towards his goal. Now when walked and forced the ankle to bear his weight, it did so without as much complaint. The show of extreme loyalty from his Cohorts had invigorated him. He owed it to them to complete his task.

He reached the other side and dashed away from the edge of the road, only to pause yet again. Just ahead was the little hut where he had lived during his brief employ as Roquan's tradesman.

He felt compelled to investigate, despite ample evidence the hut had been long since abandoned and allowed to fall into disrepair. He convinced himself he was simply being thorough. Yet as he stared at what used to be his cot, he could not help but let the curse of memory once more afflict him. He expected to again feel the sensation of being watched, his every move scrutinized, just as he had felt at the Circle or the Rogue Mage camps, despite knowing they had had a more mundane cause.

Jollis left the structure and cast his gaze towards the path which continued past the hut. The overgrown foliage helped his observations. From the broken leaf stems and trampled vines, he determined that several people had traveled along this path in just the past day.

He picked up one of the broken stems. The sap was still glistening and fresh, which narrowed it down to the past half-day. His gaze darted along the ground, and he saw the footsteps. He crouched beside one and probed it with his finger. It was deeper than the hardness of the ground would warrant. Whoever made these was carrying something which weighed at least half a man's weight. He spotted another set of footprints along the same path exhibiting the same telltale impressions. Two men, both bearing half the weight of something which massed about the same as another man.

Other footprints were mixed with them, along with shallow holes at regular intervals, like a warrior striking his staff against the ground as he walked. He followed them until he emerged into the small clearing in which Jothan had stood just the day before.

Jollis noticed the mounds of earth at once, and a sniff confirmed that soil had been disturbed here very recently. He spotted it after only another moment of investigation: a mound near the far end of the clearing had been dug recently. The turned earth still glistened with moisture.

The purpose of the mounds eluded him. Why would one choose to pile dirt in man-sized mounds in a little clearing in the jungle? His gaze swept them again and again, searching for some clue which would obviate the need for him to dig into the mounds. Only a chance breeze which altered the dapples of sunlight shining through the tree canopies allowed him to spot the shadow of something sticking up out of the dirt at the far end of one of the mounds.

Jollis crouched beside it, trying not to wince at the flare of pain from his ankle, and reached for what looked like the end of a wooden dowel. Only when his fingers hovered a handspan from it did the light shift again, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw the dowel was sacred cherry wood.

Jollis took a slow breath and let it go, though it did little to settle his pounding heart. He grasped the end of the dowel and eased it out of the dirt. Another breath passed his lips as a ragged sigh of both shock and remorse as dirt fell away from the bit of vellum parchment wrapped about the other end of the dowel.

Jollis sat hard on the ground and cradled his find in his trembling hands. According to Inonni beliefs, he had committed nothing less than a sacrilege. The only thing stopping him from begging forgiveness from the gods was that he had not expected a grave in the open air, as such an act would have been considered a desecration of the body and an insult to the spirit.

He held a Spirit Note, a message intended for either the spirit of the deceased or for the gods who would judge him. Such messages were not meant for mortal eyes. If he wished to remain on the path of Enlightenment and true to the Inonni way, he would place the message back into the grave where it belonged.

And yet, his now shaking fingers unrolled the parchment. The message read: Gothrus and the gods unto which he will be delivered, please forgive us.

Jollis stared, his spiritual conflicts forgotten for the moment. Forgive us? Forgive whom? And for what? The flowery script was reminiscent of that which was taught to the Cohorts, but the writing was shaky, as if written under duress.

Jollis crawled to the next grave. He extracted its Spirit Note and unrolled its parchment: Herrada and the gods unto which she will be delivered, please forgive us.

He retrieved the Notes from two more graves. They were of the same format, one with the name "Orodas" and another named "Barranus." Finally, he turned his attention to the freshly dug mound.

Jollis forced another slow and deep breath, but this did not calm him. His thoughts were swept into a vortex of demand, accusations, and laments. He felt as if he were spinning in a narrow chamber whose walls were lined with deadly blades, and they would fall upon him if he stopped. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he stared at the final grave.

Part of him wanted to leave the remaining grave undisturbed and let him continue to live the grand illusion. Even returning to Master Kyllos -- the man he had grown to love as a second father -- in disgrace for failing to complete his task paled in light of the revelation he feared awaited him.

Yet Jollis forced himself to crawl towards it, his breath short, his hand still trembling as he grasped the dowel and tugged it free of the fresh soil. He unraveled the message and uttered a gasp, and a single tear trickled down his cheek.

Jothan and the gods unto which he will be delivered, please forgive us. And we beg of you, Great and Honored Wanderer, that you forgive us as well.

Jollis' hand clutched the parchment until it tore from the dowel. "Y-You are absolved," he said in a quavering voice, his eyes squeezed shut. "You worked at the direction of a higher power. As utterly r-reprehensible as the actions of that higher power were."

His eyes opened, and silent tears streamed down his face.

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