In Shade and Shadow

she'd longed for often in the past two seasons.

Magiere had been born in the worst of ways to be the leader of forces for the Ancient Enemy. Leesil, raised and trained by his own mother, was to be the instrument of dissidents among the Anmaglâhk and strike at that Enemy they knew almost nothing about. And Chap…

Having chosen to be born into flesh to guard them both, he had no idea how much his own kin, the Fay, had kept hidden from him. Beneath lies and omissions, all the Fay had truly expected from him was to keep Magiere and Leesil from taking any action at all.

And now it seemed the council wished the same for Wynn.

All this caution, this driven paranoia to do nothing for fear of doing the wrong thing—what did it amount to?

Wynn knew what each of her dear friends had done in the end.

'Give me the key to your study,' she said to il'Sänke. 'I need to get my things left there if I'm to proceed.'

The domin looked at her with doubt and then appeared relieved that she no longer fought the council's plans for her. He handed over the key, and Wynn reached into her own pocket.

She pulled out her cold lamp crystal—the emblem of journeyors and higher ranks among the guild.

Wynn approached the council, directly in front of High Premin Sykion, and tossed her crystal upon the table.

Sykion's eyes widened at the implication even before Wynn said a word.

'I resign,' she whispered.

It was still loud enough to hear in the chamber as the crystal's tumble finally came to a halt.

Wynn finished gathering her things from her own room. She arranged it all inside her pack, leaving behind the gray robe in favor of the elven clothing she had worn all the way from the Farlands. Wearing the robe would be a lie, for she was no longer a sage.

Shade watched her, occasionally following her around the small room or sniffing in the trunk.

Wynn tried not to think as she finished up.

This was too much like facing a death, and yet still left walking the world. She tried to keep her mind on one thing—Dhredze Seatt, the 'Sea-foam Stronghold' of the dwarves across Beranlômr Bay.

The only «outsiders» who'd come and gone unseen from the guild—who seemed to possess real knowledge of the texts—were High-Tower's brother and the other elder hassäg'kreigi.

The translation project would go on without her—had proceeded without her. Hopefully, since she'd said nothing of her plans, the guild would see no need to change the current location of the texts. Wherever the texts truly were, the city of dwarves was the only place to begin her search.

Six and twenty steps… to five corners.

She'd wondered about five ancient Noble Dead uncovered by name, who had «divided» — and the strange mention of 'five corners' in the scroll. Li'kän was locked away beneath the ice-bound castle, and hopefully Häs'saun and Volyno were simply no more. That left only the other pair of the five—Vespana and Ga'hetman.

But another grain of truth began to dawn upon her, and it was so much worse.

The double column of sages, thirteen in count, fell into shadow as they tramped out of daylight into the gatehouse's tunnel.

'Oh, no more of this… please!' Wynn whispered to herself.

Not five corners for five ancient Noble Dead. Not six and twenty—twenty-six—steps taken, as some metaphor of distance. Whatever the five corners meant, the other measure was for pairs of feet—two by two, totaling thirteen.

The Children numbered thirteen.

How many of the other names she'd read were those of other ancient undead, possibly still somewhere in the world? It was bad enough that the one she'd banished with the sun crystal couldn't be one of them. The Children were ancient vampires, and the wraith had been some new spirit form of Noble Dead.

And Wynn thought immediately of Pawl a'Seatt.

The stoic master scribe with the odd family name had claimed to have been hunting undead in his city. He'd implied that he had sensed the wraith's presence, though he hadn't been able to find it. Magiere was the only other person Wynn knew of, besides Chap, who had such ability. Chane had been fervent in claiming that Pawl a'Seatt was an undead, yet Wynn had seen the scribe master in daylight. None of it made sense.

He couldn't be a dhampir, not for what Wynn knew of Magiere's singular birth and what great efforts that had taken. He couldn't be one of the Children, if Wynn's guess that Li'kän's forced servitude was common to all such.

Who—what—was Pawl a'Seatt?

The only other thing Wynn knew was that none of the Upright Quill's staff showed any fear of the shopowner, beyond his strange actions on the night of Jeremy's and Elias's deaths. Pawl a'Seatt wasn't guilty of those deaths. He had always been protective of his employees, watching over them each night when they left the guild grounds. And he had a long-standing and respected relationship with the guild.

Wynn turned toward the keep's main doors, rather than heading on to il'Sänke's quarters. She had one more stop to make.

When she reached the hospice, Nikolas was reclined against the bed's headboard. He gazed up, perhaps at the ceiling or at nothing at all. At the sight of his lost eyes, Wynn almost wished she'd just slipped away instead. But she couldn't be so cruel, and she had something important to tell him.

Shade trotted in on her heels, and thankfully, Domi «haningn Bitworth wasn't present.

'Your color is better,' she said.

Nikolas rolled his head toward her, only then realizing someone was there, and he half smiled.

'Do I still have gray streaks in my hair?'

She pulled over a stool and sat beside him. 'You may be stuck with those, but they make you look distinguished.'

Then he noticed her clothing and the pack, and any hint of happiness drained from his fragile features.

'You're leaving?'

'Yes, I have an assignment,' she lied. 'I just came to say good-bye… and that I'm glad to have your friendship.'

He rolled his head back and focused on the ceiling again. What else could she say? This poor young man had more demons in his past than the memory of the black-robed wraith. His few friends here had either died or left him.

'Nikolas, listen to me,' she said. 'Look at me. If anything like this ever happens again…'

She grabbed his hand.

'If something… unnatural ever plagues you or the guild, don't waste time going to Sykion or High-Tower or even Captain Rodian. They cannot help.'

At this Nikolas's brown eyes filled with confusion.

'Go to Master a'Seatt,' she insisted, 'at the Upright Quill. Tell him everything. He will know what to do.'

Nikolas blinked and then nodded once as he squeezed her hand.

'I have to get going,' she said, and stood up, shouldering her pack.

'But you'll come back?' he asked quickly.

Wynn glanced back from the doorway. 'When I can.'

She hoped that wasn't a lie as she headed outside into the courtyard with Shade.

Wynn blindly made her way through the northwest door, down the hallway through the storage house, and into the workshop building. She had barely rounded the hallway's end and climbed the stairs, pulling out the key to the quarters, when she spotted il'Sänke in the upper passage.

'Where have you been?' he shouted.

The domin's dark-skinned face glistened with perspiration. His eyes looked wild with panic instead of the