The flurry of chatter pranced and sprang off the stone hallways as all members of the Circelus council, all seventy seven, congregated outside the expansive chamber rooms where they would soon gather to meet and discuss the issues facing the guild. Ewan was standing just behind and to her left. It would be the first time he would be presented to the Circelus council, and Kiema could feel, perhaps not nervousness from him, but maybe unease. He was perfecting the ?walls? that kept her gift away.

?I would have thought you were accustomed to Changlings by now,? she spoke with ease and a light jesting.

?One is a simple matter to keep at bay, but if all of them start hammering away at my walls might undo me.? He grinned. He had dressed simply, but with due care for the occasion. His woolen tunic of a dark forest?s green, braided and adorned minimally in gold, bore the crest of the Yransea barony upon the right wrist. Kiema supposed he should have also had one on his left, as he wielded weapons just as easily with one hand as the other, but tradition spoke of the right side only. His breeches of softened black suede suited the cooling climate of Anria, but she feared he may become heated in the close space of the chambers.

?I doubt they will feel a need to pry into your emotions, Ewan. They desire your assistance. They won?t start by offending you.? She could understand his reluctance; however, his part in this was not as supplicant to them but the other way around. Ewan had the advantage.

A chime called from its place in the high wall above two arching doors. Hushed words now exchanged as the councilors filed in and found their seats. Kiema, not a councilor, smiled to Ewan before turning for the doors and entered behind all others save him. The room opened up like a bowl and they stood at the rim. Stairs led down to the center and it is there Kiema walked, Ewan accompanying her only to the barrier between the circle of chairs and the open dark floorboards at center. On the right of that center circle was a small platform with two seats. These were taken by the heads of the council, Mistress Vaqiela and Master Lindse. Elected to the posts, the council heads were frequently, though not always, married. Vaqiela and Lindse had been in their posts for as long as Kiema could remember, and their three children, Changlings all, were prominent members of the guild in their own right.

Kiema bowed to them just as the second chiming of the bells, the bells signaling the beginning of the meeting, glimmered into the chamber. ?The Baron has kindly returned our generosity with his own assistance,? Mistress Vaqiela began in that reservedly warm tone she often used at council. She had no gift of music, but her talents had been well used in many ways as ambassador, peaceful arbiter, and other political ventures of the lands which Anria knew. With a hand spotted by age, she motioned Ewan to join Kiema at center, ?You are unaware of the task set before you, and yet you accept our request. We, however, will not press you to that task until you have full knowledge.?

It is uncertain whether the council completely understood Ewan?s purpose in life, as Kiema had never been terribly explicit in the past adventures they had shared, but she knew his power and his craft would be invaluable. She hoped he would not change his mind.

Anterpol nearly growled and Ewan could see other councilmembers react, though Kiema had told him that they all keep walls up and their gifts withheld in this place. Evidently the expression of emotion was more severe than they had anticipated, and if it weren?t for that realization, Ewan himself would have noticed his frustration level rise unaccountably.

?Let?s not repeat this squabble again,? Vaqiela interjected. ?Master Corinsson has no need to hear us repeat ourselves.?

?If I may be allowed to give what information we know without,? Pearen, Ewan knew this man, stood and gave a stern warning to Anterpol and Larisan, ?interruption.? Vaqiela nodded her acceptance, and Pearen continued, ?Two journeymen and three masters of our guild craft are no longer able to be sensed, and they are long overdue in making contact. Their missions not so distressing as to keep silence from us. We can give no more as this is a matter only histories have encountered before, and the information given there is less than informative.? Pearen sat with an acknowledging nod of his head.

Vaqiela spoke again, ?Mistress Kiema will fill him in on those details that are necessary upon the journey. Suffice it to say, we find our numbers unaccountably dwindling. We have no bodies to account for them, we can only assume deaths in the very absence of feeling them. So, council has decided to investigate these deaths further.? Ewan suppressed a grin, as he could see that Vaqiela was a formidable woman still even in her hastening years and did not like to waste time.

Finally, Master Lindse spoke, ?As decreed by council, Mistress Kiema Buie and Master Ewan Corinsson will travel to the north lands where the deaths of our guild mates occurred. It is time to learn what can be shown there. If,? Lindse looked at him directly, ?Master Corinsson agrees.?

?Without hesitation, I will promise to do all in my power to find answers to this question, and if the council so decrees, to deal with any problems that arise.? He heard the rustling of fabrics as the many members in the chamber shifted.

But a grin broke across Lindse?s face. He knew now the mystery of Ewan Corinsson so clearly as if he wrote the tale of his life himself. ?The council agrees.?

Ewan scouted ahead a few yards, Kiema still in sight, checking the trail markings. Someone had been here before and recently. Crouching low, a finger tracing the outline of a boot marking, the ridges of the heels pressed deeply in the soft forest growth. Kiema having caught up and paused behind him, ?Anything we need to worry about??

?Possibly,? was the only answer he could give her.

?Could just be a hunting party or simple travelers.? Yet, he could tell she was not convinced of it either.

He rose and shook his head, ?Strange place to hunt. Game is scarcer as winter approaches, and why travel this way instead of by way of the road? We have our reasons, and so must they.?

Thunder rumbled its early warning in the west. They both looked to the sky, though view of any clouds was obscured by the branches. Yet, the high reaches of those trees were trembling into more eager sways as the wind of the approaching storm whipped about. ?We should move on and see if we can find shelter.?

?I could not agree more,? she gave him a grim smile, wrapping her travel cloak more tightly about her.

They walked on in silence, sidelong glances to her. Thoughts going through her mind as he witnessed the subtle color changes of her irises. And then, that smile and her eyes as near lavender as the baroness?s. She was thinking of that man. It was a look he had learned well and craved for his own. He could not have it.

Breaking into the ranks of trees was a half stone wall, collapsed with rot and age. His mind returned to his duties and he held up his hand for her to stay back. Stealthy steps around the edge and he searched the ruins for sign of recent life. There being none and the threat of rain more immediate with the crack of thunder and flash of lightning, he called her inside. ?We?ll shelter here.?

She said nothing, but made a spot to sit among the debris of a corner. ?I?ll be back. I want to take a look at those tracks again.?

The brigands had given up being careful, charging around the corner and through the muck at Ewan in desperate attempt to catch him off guard. A pitiful exchange, for which he was more than master, of countering thrusts and slashes had the men down on the ground with life seeping out of ominous wounds to the stomach and groin. His blade was sheened with their blood. He stood above them as Kiema scrambled forward from the shadowed position, to work her gift upon them. ?The pain will pass soon.? Of that Ewan was sure; death could not be far away. ?What is your task? Who asked this of you??

A sputtering of blood from one man who opened his mouth to answer, the gurgling choked out words barely understood as, ?Stop the trade?.Lord??

?Quiet, you viper; hold true to something.? The other growled out, desperately pressing at his wound to staunch the flow of blood.

Ewan moved forward and stepped firmly on the man?s reddened hands. A howl pitched up into the rafters unholy and despairing. ?Lord who?? was his unconditional question.

?Never you mind,? the man managed to spit out between tears and gritted teeth.

A green eyed glance to Kiema, she nodded and he saw her eyes flamed red as she poured her own frustrations, the flame bright injustices he fed into her, and the terror of unspent malice to heighten the dying man?s own anger. The sensations overwhelmed the man and he spat out his pain and loss in a flood of confession, ?Lord Morain im Sophi. Curse him! His greed sent me to this dim world. Trade routes be damned. I?m dying for their lack.?

Kiema?s eyes flashed from their grim red to the brightness of a blue calm sky, urging the man to settle into the peace of death to come. The wounded man's companion had braved the trail into the Meadowlands already. ?Go now and leave behind the betrayals of this world.? The man struggled against any suggestions, but Kiema?s soft voice continued to soothe. The dying man began to settle, breathed slow, closed his eyes, and felt no more.

?We have a name,? Ewan stated simply and moved to care for his blade.

?Yes, but trade routes? That?s what this man was told was the reason.? She stood, shaking away debris from her cloak and scowled. ?I wouldn?t believe that if Diasina said it herself.?

A soft laugh, brief but light, ?Go questioning the divine and you may not be long for the Meadowlands yourself.? He had a moment of pleasure seeing her stunned, mouth half open in dismay.

The rain passed sometime in the night, and Kiema rose to find Ewan sitting up, booted feet flat on the flagstones with heels pulled in tight. His arms, resting upon knees, allowed his hands to droop and relax. A stretch of her back, she rolled up to sit next to him. ?When do you plan on sleeping??

He rose with a half grin, ?In about an hour or two. Let?s move on for now.?

Stretching once more she rose to join him, and they picked their way out of the slick stoned ruins to the surrounding forest and continued westerly. They breakfasted on the edible berries and a shared round of bread as they walked with easy care. Their trail, for they did not have the boldness to believe they left no trail at all, would be found by a descent enough tracker. The worry was not on being tracked, but on the unknown ahead. And Kiema did worry, for the reasons of their journey were half veiled by the Circelus and the manner of findings left to them.

Dappled forest floor played its mystical tricks upon her senses, and Kiema felt her worry ease away. The hint of a cave entrance opened to their sight as they rounded its side. Ewan explored far enough in to satisfy his sense of safety and motioned for her to join him. ?I?ll rest here. If I don?t wake in a few hours, get me up. We?re close to the Pictana River.?

?How close would you say?? Kiema strained to hear the tell tale sounds of flowing water. ?I can?t hear it.?

?Oh a few hours walk, yet, but we?ll be there around nightfall. It?s a clotted and slow moving river here, so you?ll not hear it for a few hours more.? He lay down upon the leaf covered edge of the opening, laying back against the moist walls, closed his eyes, and fell into sleep.

Kiema could feel how quickly he went to sleep, the tension eased out of him so rapidly. ?Lucky skill to have,? she murmured, and then sat down across from him, casting a blue eyed glance out to the forest view.

The clearing was bare.

Not simply bare of the usual groundlings of animal life, but completely bereft of anything. It measured perhaps five strides in each direction, though its raggedy edges teased at greenery continuing to grow oblivious of its neighbor?s destruction.

?I think we found the last place Master Juvian walked this earth,? Ewan observed mildly as crouched down. Fingers raked through the dirt that moved easily beneath his fingers, like a fine ground powder. He lifted green eyes to her, ?I don?t suppose this an element of your gift you?ve failed to share, is it??

?Not hardly,? she stepped around him to examine the edges of the clearing. ?Life,? she lifted her left hand, ?and death,? as she lifted and looked to her right. ?Or, well, lacking any proof otherwise, who is to say he was even killed when this happened? Maybe they left this behind to cover their tracks??

?I won?t deny the possibility. Perhaps the ability to conceal his wherabouts, or to make it seem like he's dead. But surely we must work with what we know. The Circelus cannot sense him, and this area is beyond a usual burning of ground." He kicked at the dirt and it rose up from the ground as a misty haze of morning.

And it did not fall, but kept rising. Ewan stepped in front of Kiema and placed his hands to the falchion hilts, but did not draw.

Kiema placed one hand on Ewan?s shoulder, and whispered, ?Wait, I feel something..,? she stepped slightly out from Ewan, but not around him, and watched as the dusty cloud resolved into a spire, twisting and whirling. ?It?s Master Juvian.? She could tell by the distinct pattern of his thoughts.

In a blaring fractured confusion, the members of the Circelus all flooded into her thoughts, wanting to know what was happening. It was a brief moment of blinding pain that subsided with the quick barrier and rebuff of Mistress Vaqiela. Then alone, her thoughts came into Kiema?s mind. ?Let me see what you see.?

It was wrong of her; a false note spoiling the truth of a melody spinning its story. Ewan held her, but it was another man?s arms she longed for and imagined wrapped about her. A man who did not feel the same, and she was only using Ewan as an imitation. A stand in to flesh out her dreams.

She did not push, only glided back from his embrace. ?My apologies. I simply had not expected such news.? As she breathed in the mossy earthiness of the forest around her, calming herself, she lifted blue eyes and saw the moment of realized hurt in his eyes before it was gone.

?No, of course not,? he walked past her. ?We can make better time on our return, but we should remain cautious. And you should, probably, leave scouting to my eyes and not to your gift.?

She cocooned her travel cloak close about her just as she wrapped her gift inside her mind and soul and buried it deep. In his steps she followed. ?That?s how they found us. The hunters from before ? it is because I lead them to us.?

?I didn?t see a Sedlaral among them or nearby,? his step light as can be in the forest flotsam. Branches and brush tidily avoided or removed from their path so not to leave a trail. ?Unless they left it behind somewhere before they attacked.?

She had a more potent trail than leaves and twigs the hunters could follow. It was in her blood and soul. If she reached out to scout the land as she had before, they could mark her. They would be drawn to the trail of gift.

A shudder trembled her shoulders, ?I feel like death walks in my footsteps. So much lost history.?

?At least you?ve had the practice without your gift in Rhydin,? Ewan offered reassuringly.

?I am unable to use my gift there. Here, now,? she glanced over her shoulder, ?I dare not.?