He wondered if this was how he had been when they had found him. He felt like he remembered walking around, being led, but he wasn't sure. It seemed like it had been a long time ago. Maybe her magic made her susceptible on a different level than him. Maybe it had been able to mess her up more deeply than with him. He could still remember the machete going into Etrick's face--

He shook his head to clear it and he rubbed too hard at the tears on his face. He shifted uncomfortably in the clothes that itched at him. He was starting to regret putting the shoes on, too. Gods, how many times have I been hurt today? He wasn't even sure if it was even still the same day. He could not manage to count how many days it had been since he had woken up after...the boat.

He knew he hadn't slept since, and wished he could. Just for a little while. But he knew better. He picked his head up and rubbed his eyes. No, if he fell asleep the evil would get him. It would probably make him kill Lynna and she wouldn't struggle or call out. No, he had to stay awake.

His head flew back up when the door opened. He turned with a start, and it was Agmar and Yilmack. He looked back to Lynna, suddenly afraid, but no, she was still there and still breathing. He had not actually drifted off.

"Agmar, you're back, good."

"Yes."

"How are they? Margaret and Elsa?"

Agmar hesitated. "They will be fine." He moved over to Lynna. "We need to see if we can help her. I think maybe she will let you in."

"Huh?"

"I can create a bridge of sorts between your minds. Maybe she will let you in and you can lead her back home. Sit at the end of the bed, at her head." Stott did as he was told. Agmar took Stott's hands and put them on Lynna's head with a little space between them. He gently pushed Stott's head down until his forehead touched hers between his hands.

"Stay close, Yilmack," he heard Agmar say before he felt a strong hand on the back of his head.

Stott suddenly felt as if a part of him was being pulled out of and eventhrough his own body. His instincts told him to fight it, to resist it with everything he had, but he honestly had no idea how he would do such a thing. He felt constricted, as if he couldn't breathe, and then there was a moment of freedom. During that moment, Stott found that he could see everthing with an almost blinding clarity. He saw himself, leaned over Lynna. He saw Agmar sitting on the bed behind him, eyes closed and jaw tense with concentration. He saw Yilmack standing next to the bed, a few steps behind Agmar, watching the scene attentively with a measure of rope held loosely in his hands. Over them all, a glowing golden globe of shimmering light sparkled. Beyond it, the room seemed darker than he had thought it was. Stott felt as if the darkness was pushing against the globe that protected the four of them.

A brighter, smaller light - not unlike the glowing balls of light that Lynna and Agmar conjured up in their hands - buzzed around him like some sort of incandescent bee. He went to shoo it away, and realized that he didn't have hands of his own, but was a small ball of light himself. He started to panic, and the moment ended. He found himself rushing downwards towards Lynna at an impossible speed. As he neared impact a gray funnel of swirling smoke seemed to appear and encompass him, pulling him inward.

Stott Jacobs found himself standing... nowhere. There was nothing but blackness around him. He could see his own body again, which was reassuring, and he flexed a hand, testing. In the light, which he couldn't find a source of, his skin looked normal again, without the pinkness of the newly healed skin. The itching was gone too. He was starting to wonder about it all when he found himself overtaken by scenery, as the blackness was suddenly replaced by the docks. It was sunset, and Lynna sat at the edge of one of the long wooden docks, this one empty of ships, hugging her knees and watching the sun go down beneath the horizon.

Stott was starting to make some sense of it all, realizing that none of this was really happening. He was somehow in Lynna's mind. For a moment, he felt like he was intruding, and held back. Then he remembered why he was here. He needed to show her the path back. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to do that, but he expected that his job was to help her want to come back. He moved slowly down the dock, his footsteps creaking on the wooden planks.

"You're dead," she said as he came up behind her. "No more lies, Agmar," she cried out at the sky. "I killed him. He's gone, and it's my fault." Her shoulders were slumped and she put her head down on her knees.

"You're wrong," he told her, sitting down next to her on the dock. "Agmar healed me in time, and it's not your fault." He reached out a hand and touched her shoulder, but she brought an arm up and shoved it away.

"Don't touch me! You're not real, you're just some trick that Agmar conjured up! Or the evil. Maybe you're the evil this time instead of Agmar." She looked at him, her eyes and cheeks red and puffy from crying. "Why didn't you just finish me off? Why didn't you just kill me?"

"Lynna, it's me. Agmar helped me to get here, yes, but it is really me. How can I convince you of that?"

She turned and grabbed him by the shoulders with both hands, looking into his eyes. He felt more than saw the scene around him shift again.

"You were burning," she said, her voice filled with horror. "I had to watch you burn." She turned her head, looking into the window of the burning house. He heard his own screams coming from within. Somehow they were standing now.

"Don't look, Lynna! It's over now! Look at me, I'm right here!" He turned her head to face him. "I made it. Agmar healed me. You're the one who's hurt now and you have to come back or it will get worse! Please, Lynna!"

She shook her head.

"It hurts, Stott. It hurts, and I'm scared." Her eyes welled with tears.

"I was scared too," he told her, pointing at the house and trying to ignore his panicked howls of pain coming from within. "But I made it. If I can live through that, you can get through this. I did want to blame you, Lynna, for a little bit there, but I can't. I know it wasn't you that did that to me. The evil did this, not you. Didn't you tell me the same thing about what happened with my brother?"

"That was different." He could see hesitation in her eyes.

"How? I sliced him open with my father's machete, Lynna! How was that any different than you trying to kill me? At least you didn't succeed!"

"I did succeed with Mrs. Litner, though," she said quietly, looking at the ground.

"I know, but it wasn't you, Lynna. It wasn't you that did it."

He was about to pull her into his arms when he felt something pulling at him from behind. He leaned against it, but it had a cold, iron grip.

"Lynna? Something's pulling at me!" his heart was pounding strangely in his chest. Everything suddenly felt wrong.

"Stott? Is it really you?" She was only just now starting to believe, as his time was running out. He grabbed hold of her, putting his hands on both cheeks, and kissed her.

"It's me," he tried to say. As the words came out of his mouth, however, he was being pulled backwards through the air away from her, backwards through the smoke funnel. There was a moment, again, of clarity. In it, he saw the same scene, but the protective golden dome was cracked here and there, the darkness beyond starting to break its way inside.

Then Stott found himself slammed back into himself so hard he fell off the bed and onto the floor, gasping and choking for breath. He struggled to quickly get to his feet and saw Agmar crumpled forward into a heap on Lynna's legs. Suddenly Lynna sat bolt upright in bed, eyes wide, arms reaching out, and inhaling sharply.

"Stott!" She looked around and caught sight of him. "Stott?"

Yilmack was helping already helping Agmar sit up again, and Stott could see that the wizard was still conscious. Stott sat back down on the bed and pulled Lynna into his arms. She buried her head in his chest, sobbing.

"I'm so sorry, Stott. I tried to stop it, I did, I swear! I'm so sorry!" She kept repeating the apology over and over again, and he rocked her back and forth, gently stroking her hair.

"It's alright, Lynna. It's over now," he told her. "That part's over now." His relief at her return felt short-lived, however, as his mind wondered what was in store for them next. His eyes couldn't see if the shimmering globe around them was still up, although he suspected he'd only been able to see it while moving between himself and Lynna. He had a feeling they had managed to narrowly miss another dangerous encounter. No one's eyes showed any sign of the red film though, and Stott allowed himself to relax for a moment, enjoying the bit of calm between the storms.

Chapter 27

She was worried about Avern. She was worried about everyone, herself included, but there was a separate, more personal worry for Avern. She hoped that Lynna really was alright as Syred had said. She knew him at least as well as anyone else did, perhaps somewhat better, and she could tell there was more he was not saying.

That had been half an hour already. He would be there by now, and by now he would know whatever it was. But for now she had a moment to collect herself. A moment of quiet. A moment of sanity. Her inn had never felt so over-busy before.

First there had been the cat that had jumped off a shelf and started biting one of the girls. Then there had been the fight when one of the men had gotten out of hand. And there had been the near-brawl when one girl fell asleep. She had downplayed it to Avern, but her inn was falling apart around her. And everyone says tomorrow is going to be worse...Or is it tomorrow already? She looked out the window, once again hoping to see just a hint of daylight. She sighed, disappointed but not surprised.

The knife wound in her side had been minor. It was only a table knife, and hadn't gotten deep enough to do any real damage. She had spent all that time with Avern half-panicked that he'd put his hand in the wrong place and come back with blood.

She took off her blouse and corset and threw them both into a corner in frustration. If this was going to continue she was going to run out of clothes to wear. At this point she really did not want to borrow something just to have to return it ruined. She got out the roll of bandage cloth that she kept in her dressing table and prepared a cloth to clean the wound. It did hurt her every time she turned, and she sighed again.

She sat down on the edge of the bed while she wiped the wound clean, having to scrub a little at the areas where the blood had begun to dry. She winced and swore as fresh blood oozed more freely from the wound before she was able to get some bandages over it and start rolling more around herself to keep it in place.

Perhaps when this is all over I'll ask Lynna to heal this, she thought to herself. I'm certainly not going to trouble that poor girl over something so trivial right now though. She didn't think the small wound would actually need stitches, so she wasn't about to trouble Margaret with it either.

She moved to the dresser and pulled another corset from the drawer. She frowned at it, having not worn it since before she had come here. She wasn't sure if it would fit, and it was the type of thing she'd normally have worn to impress a customer. She realized that it was exactly the type of thing that she wouldn't want Avern to see her in, or he would see her as nothing more than a whore. She frowned and stuffed it deep into one of the lower drawers.

I suppose the red color would soak up the bloodstains well, but I think I'd better resort to borrowing before I risk being seen in that! She rummaged further and came up with a couple more options, and picked the more demure of the two. She switched the skirt out with a dress instead, choosing one of the ones she generally reserved for the colder season when they rarely had customers. Perhaps this will discourage a few of them, she sighed as she pulled buttons through their corresponding buttonholes. Another thing Mary hadn't mentioned to Avern was that her behind was bruised and sore from men grabbing it when they thought she was distracted. She was surprised at how many of them were men who lived here in town and she knew to be married. She'd been taking mental notes on each of them, and had been carefully avoiding some of the worst offenders. She was starting to get a feel for which wives weren't giving their husbands enough attention in the bedroom.

The dress was high-necked, but had a diamond-shaped cutout across the front that still showed off a measure of her cleavage. Out of habit, she adjusted it to show a little more before reconsidering. She grabbed up a scarf and tied it loose about her neck with the ends hanging down to cover the area some instead. After adjusting her hair again, and giving herself a nod of approval in the mirror, she took a deep breath and headed back downstairs.

She made her way to the kitchen first, securing herself another cup of cold tea. Genla had started making tea when they had run out of coffee, and Mary taken to drinking it regularly to keep herself going. She felt some of her strength returning, but she still felt exhausted and knew that she would end up alseep on her feet if she didn't give herself an edge.

She took the cup and walked the halls of the inn, noting that things seemed to have calmed down for the moment. People sat in clusters, talking quietly amongst themselves, and only a few conversations halted at her approach. She had spoken with her girls and told them not to take any more clients for now, after the one man had gotten too rough, and she had filled the rooms usually reserved for such activities with the people who had survived the warehouse fire.

She managed to make a tour of the whole inn without incident or getting pinched, and she counted herself very lucky. She headed out the back door and stood on the step for a moment, breathing in the fresh air while she sipped at her tea. The wind howled and beat against the trees and walls as it moved. Mary found her attention drawn by the door to the shed, which banged open and closed almost seeming angry in the wind. She was wondering if Marcus had forgotten to close it or if someone had gone in there, when a woman's screams suddenly pierced the air, coming from the shed. Mary quickly set the teacup on a barrel and ran towards the shed, yelling back at the house for Marcus as she did.

She had to pull the door of the shed open again, and it seemed as if the wind was trying to keep her from getting inside. The screaming had stopped by the time she had managed to get it open. She stepped into the doorway and stood, frozen in shock for a moment at the scene in front of her.

There were three men in the shed, and a girl she recognized as the older daughter of one of the families currently taking refuge at the inn. The girl's eyes were wide open and expressionless as she lay dead on the ground. Two of the men were still holding her down while the third had his pants around his knees as he grunted like an animal, raping her still-warm body. There were several long slashes down her body, where they had cut deep to get her dress out of the way, and one of them had left what looked like one of Genla's sharp butchering knife deep in the girl's chest. The other two still held knives of their own, and the looked at Mary with the expressions of starving animals. Mary turned back towards the inn to run, and slammed straight into Jacob Bentz.

"You're not going anywhere, whore," he told her, grabbing the ends of the scarf around her neck with his hands and pulling it tight around her throat.

She tried to fight against him but he was impossibly strong. She tried to scream but she could not breathe.

She saw a heavy timber hit him on the back of the head with a loud crunching noise. Then she could see that Marcus had come. Bentz, appearing unfazed, kept one hand holding the scarf and turned to face Marcus. She beat at the one arm still holding her, but it made no difference.

Marcus swung the timber again. Bentz caught it with his free hand and pulled it out of Marcus' two strong hands as if he were pulling a toy from a distracted baby. Marcus was pulled off balance by it and fell to one knee.

Mary tried the only thing she could think of. She threw herself at the ground, hoping the sudden jerk would pull the scarf out of Bentz's grip. The scarf ripped and she fell heavily to the ground. For a moment it was all she could do to get her wind back.

Jacob Bentz swung the timber at Marcus with a wide underhand stroke that took him across the chest. It lifted him off the ground and he landed flat on his back. Jacob dropped the timber and turned to Mary just as she was getting to her feet.

"No, whore, I'm not done with you."

Mary tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her dress. Marcus stood up again and grabbed the timber. Bentz must have seen it in her face because he turned in time to catch the timber again. He let go of Mary and swung at Marcus again. This time Marcus barely evaded the swing.

Mary's eyes fell on the axe still lying on the ground near the fire ring. Normally she would have cursed it being left there carelessly. Now she wondered which god she should be thanking. She ran over and grabbed it up. She pulled it back and charged.

She saw the timber swing and hit Marcus in the side of the head the same time she sank the axe completely in Bentz's back. Marcus was knocked off his feet by the blow. Bentz turned abruptly and the axe handle broke. Bentz looked down at the jagged end and grinned at her.

Mary stood there for a moment in shock, watching at Bentz reached behind his shoulder and pulled the blade out of his back.

"You want to play rough, bitch? I can play rough."

She turned to run, her heart frozen in terror. She only managed to get a couple of steps before he threw the heavy blade at her, hitting her in the back of the leg with the blunted end. She felt bone break in her leg and fell face-first into the dirt. The broken end of axe handle slipped from her hand and went skittering across the dirt, out of her reach. She quickly got to her knees and started trying to crawl away, despite the pain ripping through her leg every time she moved it. Bentz's foot came down hard on her back and all the air rushed out of her as he forced her back down into the dirt.

He shifted quickly, bringing his knee down onto her back instead, and she gasped for air breathing in dirt with it and sending her into a coughing fit. He grabbed hold of her head and shoved it into the dirt, twisting and slamming it back and forth and up and down until her nose broke and the ground was stained with her blood. He pulled her head back by her hair and looked down at her, with a terrible excitement in his eyes.

"Oh, that's right. You probably prefer to be on your back." He grabbed her by the dress and scarf and hauled her over onto her back, slamming his knee down into the side of her chest. She felt ribs crack under his knee. She reached up and clawed desperately at his face with her fingernails. He seemed undisturbed by the long gashes she made down his cheeks in the process. He had one hand holding the scarf taut so she struggled for every breath. The other hand had picked up the axe blade and raised it over her.

He brought the heavy piece of metal down, blunted end first, onto the side of her face. Her ears rang, and her vision was blurred and spinning. She brought her hands back, to fend off the next blow, and she felt the delicate bones in her fingers snap with the impact. His grip on the scarf slipped, and she managed to pull further away from him, pushing away from him with her good leg. He grabbed her by the front of her dress and the sounds of fabric tearing mixed in with the roar of the wind around them. It almost seemed as if the wind was calling her names as well. She fumbled with the scarf, trying to untie it, but it was slippery with her blood. He brought the axe up, looking to bring the blade down on her next, and she rolled quickly to one side and scrambled to her knees, crawling away again.

She looked back to see Marcus coming up behind him, one side of his face a bloodied mess. She saw him carrying one of the long blades he used to trim grasses around the yard. He swung it towards Bentz's neck. Bentz somehow knew he was coming, and turned. Mary saw him bring the axe blade down into Marcus's chest just as Marcus lodged the blade deep into Bentz's throat. This time Bentz noticed the wound, and let go of the axe blade to grab the handle and pull it free of his neck.

"NO!" his scream came out gurgled and he was spitting blood. Marcus had fallen to the ground again, and Bentz turned and slashed at him repeatedly with the blade, until he suddenly fell to the ground, spasming wildly.

Behind him, the three men from the shed suddenly advanced, knives in hand. The one who'd been raping the girl still had his pants around his ankles, and all three were making low noises like animals might. They were on her in moments, pushing her back down to the ground and tearing at her clothing like starved animals, grunting and panting. Their eyes were a dark gray - almost black - instead of red. She screamed and struggled as she felt them cutting into her as they sliced her corset open. One of them leaned down and bit her on the cheek, while another sunk his teeth deep into one of her now-bared breasts. The third was slashing at her abdomen and legs, trying to get the fabric out of his way.

Then suddenly there were people everywhere, pulling the men off of her, taking their knives, and binding them with rope. She sobbed and screamed in pain as hands gently touched her and tried to help stop the bleeding.

"You there! Pick her up! You look strong enough! We'll have to take her over to the Surf and Sleep," she heard Genla's voice giving directions as she felt herself covered with a blanket and picked up off the ground. She grit her teeth, trying not to scream while broken bones were jostled about. For the second time that day she focused herself purely on staying awake, thankful for all the tea she'd been drinking.

The trip to the Surf and Sleep seemed to take hours and yet no time at all. She was aware of the near running pace they made, as well as the fact that several people accompanied whomever carried her. Her vision was still blurry, and she was feeling nausea mixed in with the pain. She could taste blood in her mouth, and she wondered if it was from her face and nose or something worse from inside. She concentrated on breathing. Her throat was sore, both from screaming and Bentz's attempts to strangle her. Despite her best efforts, she was aware of making a low, moaning sound for the entire journey.

She was able to tell when they arrived by the sudden brightness to the blurry world around her, and the voices rose in volume and quantity.

She heard people asking questions, but she didn't really hear the questions or the answers. Someone set her down on something. She tried to identify the faces around her, but she couldn't recognize them. Somewhere there was a child crying. She wondered where the child's mother was.

She could tell some of the voices were talking about someone badly hurt. It was obvious to her that they meant Marcus. She was relieved that he was only badly hurt and not dead, although someone was asking if it was going to be too late. No, Lynna will heal him and everything'll be fine.

She asked for water for the weird taste in her mouth, but nobody responded to her. They're all busy worried about whoever it was that got hurt. I hope they'll be alright. She thought if only she could sit up she could clear her head. This is why I don't drink, she reminded herself. She didn't remember doing it, but she must have had too much to drink. That wasn't like her, so she was confused.

Someone was looking down at her, but she couldn't tell who. He reached down and touched her, and his hands were warm. The warmth flowed through her like soup on a winter's day. It felt good at first, but it grew until it wasn't a comforting warmth any more. She felt like she was burning, and she did not like it.

And then abruptly it ended. She could see clearly. There was a bald man sitting on the bed next to her. There was something familiar about him.

"She has been very badly hurt. I have healed the physical damage, but it may take a little bit for her mind to make some of the connections again. She may have some memory problems for a while," he explained to someone. She also heard something about a reminder to keep her awake. That only served to remind her how tired she was. Why couldn't she go to sleep for a while, she wondered.

She hadn't realized that she'd asked it aloud until the bald man turned and spoke to her directly.

"It will all come back to you shortly, Mary." He patted her arm and gave her a weak smile. He looked tired, with dark circles growing under his eyes. She sat up, suddenly remembering his name.

"Agmar," she said. He nodded at her in response.

"Mary, I..." Another man was sitting next to her, and she looked over to him as he spoke. He too had dark circles under his eyes, and worry lines wrinkling his forehead. She knew him immediately and buried herself in his outstretched arms as memories of recent events started flooding back, making her head hurt and sobs bubble up to the surface. Avern held her tightly and she wished they could just stay that way forever. Eventually, she had to pull back to find out an answer to the question that sat like a rock in her stomach. She looked around the room first, hoping to find the answer there, but ended up having to ask the couple of men who she recognized as having been staying at her inn.

"Marcus? Is Marcus alright? He took some awful wounds. Is he...?" she let the question trail off as they both started shaking their head at her.

"I'm sorry Lady Mary," one of them answered. "I don't know if it was the hit to the head he took or the axe... He didn't make it." He bowed his head respectfully.

Mary's hand went to her mouth, and fresh tears found their way down her cheeks. Not Marcus! Oh, please, not Marcus! He's been my rock over the years. He's always there to help when Genla and I need it. He watches over the girls as if he thought of them as errant neices. He's been such a friend for so long! She buried herself in Avern's chest again. I just want to sleep. I want to wake up and find that this has all just been some horrible dream...

She realized, however, that she didn't want all of it to have been a dream. She could feel Avern's hand, gently rubbing her back. A part of her didn't want to lose that. She pulled away, feeling guilty.

"I'm sorry. He saved my life. He was such a good man. He shouldn't... Oh, gods, Bentz wanted me dead, not him. It's all my fault." She pulled the blanket around her and turned away from Avern, curling herself into a ball and sobbing into the soft fabric.

Avern stayed and rubbed her shoulders gently. She appreciated the reminder that he was still there, but did wish she could be alone for just a moment. But she knew he meant well. Understanding women was never one of his greater strengths, but he was trying.

Eventually she felt ready to continue. She looked around the room. She was the only patient, which all things considered seemed unlikely. They were in one of the studies. There were six beds, and nobody was in them. Either Agmar and Lynna had been awfully busy healing people, or...

"So is everyone healed then? You know, all these beds are empty. The way things have been going lately I expected to see hurt people all over the place."

"There are several not completely healed," Agmar answered. Avern turned and looked at him, looking like he had questions as well. The big bearded man at Agmar's side took a casual step back, almost as if he was avoiding attention.

"Unfortunately beds can be comfortable to people who have not had sleep since before yesterday. Some have fallen asleep and have had to be bound."

"It's hard explaining to some people that if they want to go to sleep they can, on the condition that they be tied down. A couple of people have actually gone that route," Avern commented. "A few have been honest enough to admit they were not going to be able to keep themselves awake. It didn't seem like a good idea to be treating injured people in the same room with bound, potentially possessed and struggling people."

"I'm suprised not to see Margaret here," she said, suddenly realizing who was missing from the usual crowd as of late.

"She's one of them," Avern replied. "Bentz was here before he reached you. He apparently beat the hell out of Margaret with lead pipe or something. Agmar healed her, but she passed out before it was over. Elsa's watching over her, but the girl is a wreck at this point, so a surgeon off one of the ships has pretty much taken over the general triage."

Mary felt faint. "I thought he was just out for me..."

"I do not think Jacob Bentz is entirely in control any more," Agmar said quietly. "He has some latent anger towards certain people in town, for whatever reasons, and the evil is playing on that. Bentz is, in effect, allowing the evil to help him get some sort of twisted revenge on anyone who has gotten in his way at any point. In the process, the evil has helped skew that anger into a more developed, purer hatred. His conscience has been overridden. Although it sounds as if we have seen the last of him, based on what I just heard about what happened at your inn."

"I put an axe blade deep into his back and he acted as if it hadn't even happened. It wasn't until Marcus cut his throat open that he fell," she explained.

"I believe the evil was keeping him from feeling physical pain."

"What about the other three? Their eyes weren't red at all, they were nearly black instead?!"

"I think there is more than one way for the evil to control a person. It is far more intelligent and cunning than I had believed. Whatever this force is, it is awake and believes it can gain its freedom if it causes enough fear and anger or hatred. These emotions are strengthening it, and it is using that strength to create more. Probably in the hopes of hitting a peak where it can break free from the spell that binds it."

"Then perhaps you should find a way to strengthen the spell binding it, before we're all dead," Avern said, narrowing his eyes at Agmar. Mary could hear a bitterness in his voice. She sat back up and put her hand on his arm.

"Avern?" she asked him. "What's happened?"

"It had control over Lynna for a while. She thought she had watched herself burn Stott alive, and she did kill another woman. She took a fire poker to Mrs. Litner. And while it had her, she was trying to fight it off and this evil thing hurt her. It's painful for her to use magic right now. What Agmar is unwilling to tell me outright is that I nearly lost my daughter after he told me he would protect her."

"I HAVE been!" Agmar's voice boomed in the small room, and his eyes flashed angrily. "What you do not know, Mayor, is that since I was stabbed in the back I have been unable to walk on my own. I've had to divert a considerable amount of energy to just give the appearance of being intact. I expect it might shatter morale a bit if I were to have be carried around to each crisis. There is only one of me, Avern. I cannot be everywhere at once, no matter how hard I am desperately trying to do so!"

"Lynna healed your back..." Avern began.

"She did," Agmar interrupted him. "However, there are things that the mind will not be forced into, and the area that was healed is still fragile and new. My body needs rest in order to finish, and my mind needs time to know that the connection to my legs, along with a few other functions of my body, has been renewed. I can speed the process, but there are just certain things that no magic can force the body to do!"

"Avern," he said, seeming to calm down a little, "I never promised I could protect everyone. I never promised that I could keep your daughter safe. I said I would do what I could, and I have been. But as you of all people should be able to attest, wizards are people like everyone else."

Avern stuttered for a moment, obviously at a loss for something to argue back with. Mary was relieved that the tone of Agmar's voice had calmed dramatically. She still was not entirely unsure that he was immune to the evil's well-demonstrated ability to push people past their normal limits.

"Dammit, Agmar," Avern eventually said.

"This cannot be easy for you, Mister Avern," the bearded man said. Who is he? Mary wondered. "Most fathers 'ere have enough ta be doin' bein' fathers an' husbands. But ye've been busy wit' other duies as well. From what I've seen ye've done a right good job of it, too."

"Thank you, Yilmack, is it?"

"Aye, 'tis."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw people at the open door peering in. Then she noticed the state of her clothes, and she pulled the torn dress around her with a loud sigh. Someone at the door shifted and with a glance from Agmar the door closed.

"I hate to say this," she piped up, "but is there any chance I could borrow something to wear? It had better not be something anyone cares for much, 'cause at this rate I'm sure it won't make it through the day."

The men looked at each other, as if each expected the other to suddenly pull an outfit out of their pocket. Avern cleared his throat.

"I'll see about having someone fetch you something from your inn, if that would be alright?" He seemed lost for other solutions and she chuckled slightly at the look of confoundment on his face.

"That would be fine, Avern. Thank you," she reassured him. "I'm sure Genla can pick something out for me. In the meantime, some cold tea would be nice, if you have any here, and some company to help keep me awake while the two of you are out saving the rest of the townsfolk." She kept her voice light and gave Avern a smile. Agmar got to his feet, although Mary realized now that he did so with a stiffness, keeping his back very straight.

"I will have Lynna and Stott stay here with you for now," Agmar said. "Lynna should try and focus on staying calm, and should not, under any circumstance, use magic. It will hurt her if she tries..." he trailed off, looking distant for a moment.

"And it will keep her and Stott from..." Agmar paused, raising an eyebrow. "I will just go get them now." He strode out of the room quickly, Yilmack close behind him, before the look of realization made it across Avern's face.

"She wouldn't... They've only just started getting to know each other! I need to have a talk with that young man!" She put her hand on his arm, laughing.

"She's a well-behaved young woman, Avern. I'm sure she has a bit more propriety than that. Emotions are high right now, and she needs someone to hold her. So does he, for that matter. But that doesn't mean she'll just leap under the sheets with him."

"You did," he said, his face flushing slightly.

"That was different. I'd already been..." she trailed off, worried about putting her thoughts to words and frightening Avern away.

"What?" He took her hand in his. "You'd been what?"

"What happens when this is all over, Avern? When the danger is past and the town tries to set itself right again. When people start going back to the way it was?"

"I don't think anything will ever be the way it was again after this," he answered, looking away from her. "The next set of hard storms here will seem simple to deal with by comparison. The town will rebuild, but this is unlikely to be forgotten any time soon."

"That's not what I'm talking about Avern."

"I know." He frowned, looking at her directly. "I still don't know if the town will accept Lynna enough to let us continue on here, but I also don't want to lose this." He squeezed her hand. "I haven't felt like this in a long time, Mary. I'm not going to just turn my back on it. I don't want to lose you." She saw his eyes fill with tears and he turned his head away. "I think the evil knows, Mary. I'm starting to think it keeps hurting you to hurt me. It knows what happened to my wife. It knows I watched her die, held her broken body in my arms, helpless to do anything to save her. Agmar says it's intelligent. Cunning. I'm starting to think it's hurting you because it knows I've fallen in love again. I'm so sorry, Mary."

Her heart leapt and broke in the same moment.

"Avern..." she found herself at a loss for words. She pulled him to her and kissed him instead. He returned it with a gentle tenderness she'd never felt before. She wished it could go on forever. Afterwards, she wiped his tears away with her fingers.

"Don't you dare blame yourself for this. Bentz has always had it in for me, he was just never homicidal before. He hurt Margaret too. And you certainly can't blame yourself for that dog. I'd never even seen that dog in this town before it attacked me. The evil is trying to hurt all of us. It's just getting luckier with some than with others." She gave him a smile and pulled her hands away, hearing footsteps coming to the door. He had heard it too, and she saw him composing himself again as it opened.

Agmar ushered the young couple into the room, and both Stott and Lynna had slightly flushed faces. Mary wondered just what it was that Agmar had caught them doing, but the wizard's face was devoid of any indications. Lynna had changed into another outfit since Mary had last seen her, and had dark circles growing under eyes, despite the slight smile on her face. Her hair also looked damp, as if she'd recently washed it. Stott looked similarly exhausted, but smiled guiltily, and Mary was convinced they'd been caught doing slightly more than just kissing. She managed not to chuckle, but an amused smile played on her lips. Avern stood up once they were all in the room, Yilmack still only a couple steps after Agmar.

"I'll get that tea you wanted, Mary," Avern said suddenly. "Stott? Why don't you help me." His tone left no room for argument, and Mary stifled a laugh as both Lynna and Stott's eyes widened and their faces got redder. Mary wondered if perhaps Agmar had let Avern in on whatever he'd discovered. Stott didn't say a word, but nodded and followed Avern out of the room again like a man headed to be tried for his crimes.

"You didn't...?" Lynna asked Agmar once the door had closed behind them, a look of worry on her face.

"I did. He is your father. I gave him a nice colorful picture." Agmar had one eyebrow raised and a slightly amused look on his face now.

"Oh gods!" She looked at the closed door anxiously. "You might as well have just fed Stott to the evil instead!"

"You might want to give your father slightly more credit than that, Lynna Mordan," Mary interjected. "I don't know exactly what Agmar just caught you two doing, but based on your faces alone I doubt you were just playing an innocent game of cards up there, alone in an inn room."

"As I told Agmar already, he was just helping me wash my back!" she said defensively.

"Aye girl," Yilmack snorted. "C'ept he wern't sittin' behind you." The large man threw his head back and roared, filling the room with his booming laughter. Lynna turned red to her ears, and Mary couldn't help but laugh herself. She noticed that even Agmar smiled and shook his head with a look of amusement.

"Do not worry yourself, Lynna. He did not seem angry. Merely concerned. I believe he wants to make certain that Stott has your best interests at heart." Agmar pulled a chair forward from where it had been pushed against the wall, and settled into it with a sigh.

Mary had to laugh, actually. How upset could he really get at the girl. Why, only just...yesterday, was it? --But Lynna had been through a lot in a short time. She and Stott were getting close. Maybe it was too fast, she supposed.

But one thing she felt she understood was the nature of attraction between people. And times like these bred those feelings. It would be something to help her get through all this. She made a mental note to talk to Margaret about the rash of babies they could all expect from the survivors nine months from now.

She wrapped the sheet around her, folding over spots that had already been smeared with blood. The white made her skin look pale. Been a while since I saw myself in white...

"So is it daytime yet, or what?" she eventually asked to break what had become an awkward silence.

"The sun has been up for nearly two hours," Agmar said.

"Not that you'd know it to look outside," Lynna said with a sigh.

"Nay, 'twill not grow light until tomorrow, methinks." Mary looked over at Yilmack, wondering where he was from. The accent reminded her of Syred, but she couldn't think of a polite way to ask. She was too tired to think of polite things. She yawned deeply.

"Don't do that," Lynna complained. "There's far too long yet before we can sleep. No yawning."

"I'm afraid I can't help it at this point," Mary said. "The tea will help, I'm sure, but I feel as if..." she trailed off for a moment, searching for an example. "Actually, I've never felt this way before," she finally concluded. "I have nothing to compare this level of exhaustion with. I feel... frail? Weak? It's an effort just to stay sitting up."

"With as much blood as you have lost between the dog attack and this one, I am not suprised," Agmar said. "Your body hasn't had enough time to replenish itself from the last attack. You also have a lot of healing that your body is still working to do. Magic can close the wounds, but it takes time for the body to do its work to make those repairs permanent. Some of the wounds from the dog attack had re-opened from the stress put on them during this last attack on you."

"Why can't magic healing heal everything back the way it was exactly?" Lynna asked, as she sat down on the floor next to Mary's mattress.

"In order to do that, we would have to be able to turn back time," he answered. "The body remembers what has happened to it. You can hasten its healing process, pulling the wound back together and explaining to the body to focus on that area specifically and heal it back together. The body and mind are not designed to work at such a rate, however. Technically, people are correct when they say that wizards are disrupting the natural order of things. We are forcing some things to happen before the mind is ready and faster than the body is accustomed to when we heal a person. For instance, if a person lost a leg but a wizard was able to heal it back into place, not only would there still be newly grown flesh and muscle for the body to retrain and make stronger, but the moment that leg came off, the mind made an adjustment to account for the event. It would take some time for the mind to believe that the leg had actually returned."

"But what about people who've lost a leg and yet still sometimes feel as if it were still there?" Mary asked. "I've met people who've told me they could still feel it itching."

"Basically, it is a separation of mind and body that is the issue," Agmar explained. "If you lose a leg, your mind acts quickly to compensate. The body, on the other hand, still expects that leg to be there. If the leg is put back on, the body understands, but the mind needs coaching to see what is an unnatural change for it. The mind knows that legs do not just put themselves back on. It is not the natural order the body works in. People who have had a limb re-attached surgically have been known to regain use of the limb, but it takes a lot of time and hard work to train the mind to know about it, and frequently they will not regain the full range of motion again."

"What does that mean for you?" Lynna asked him.

"When I was wounded, my mind believed that I would be paralyzed from at least the waist down. It understood early on, fortunately, that I would be alright from the waist up, meaning I am breathing of my own accord now, although that was partly because I was able to lie to it while wounded and keep my chest rising and falling. Breathing is also more instinctual than walking. I can speed the process some, tell my mind to work harder to see that my legs still work, but in the meantime I can't feel my legs at all. It is possible that just the act of sleeping will give my mind the time to take stock and see that all is well. The body is attempting to give the wounded area physical strength again in the meantime, when I can spare the energy for it."

"I guess you weren't lying when you said you were a medical man," Mary commented.

"I once had the pleasure of traveling with a woman who was both a powerful healer and a skilled surgeon. She had a vast knowledge of the human body and what effect magic healing had upon it. She was kind enough to teach me whatever I wanted to know. Despite the fact that I have stood on many battlefields, I am actually a scholar by nature."

Mary noticed a sadness cross his face for a moment when he mentioned the woman. She suddenly found herself wondering how old he was. She knew that magic could alter the aging process, and sometimes his face would show more age than his overall appearance.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Avern's arrival. He carried a small tray with cups of tea, while Stott carried an obviously heavier one that had a pitcher, washbasin, and small pile of washclothes and towels. Lynna leapt to her feet and started towards them, looking worried. Avern stopped and handed her a cup of tea with a stern face and a shake of his head. Lynna's eyes widened, and she appeared to be at a loss for words, but Mary saw that Avern's eyes held a different story. She had a distinct impression that it was all he could do not to laugh.

"I've sent a small group to fetch you clothes. In the meantime, I thought you might like to get washed up as well, so we brought supplies for that too." He handed her one of the cups of tea before distributing the remaining cups around the room. Stott came over and set the tray with the washing supplies next to her on the floor before quickly moving over to Lynna. Mary saw them whispering when Avern wasn't looking. Avern bent down and started whispering as well while he poured water into the basin from the pitcher and dipped a cloth in it.

"I need a favor, Mary," he whispered.

"What is it? If I'm able..."

"I'm not sure..." he trailed off, looking uncomfortable. "When Lynna... you know... when she... became a woman..."

He looked so disconcerted that it was all Mary could do to keep from laughing.

"Well, she... Margaret explained some things at that point I think, but Lynna's not had a mother to ask questions of... Stott's a good young man, I don't disapprove of him, but I don't want her to... If she doesn't know what it means to be... intimate... Well I don't want her... she should wait until she's married for that!" He ran his fingers nervously through his hair. "It should be easier for you to explain the way it all works than it would be for me. But I don't want her to think I'm approving of her doing that. She shouldn't... oh dear." He sighed heavily, looking entirely frustrated. She patted him on the arm reassuringly.

"Just because I have an innfull of girls who are... intimate... with men on a regular basis, doesn't mean I'll encourage your daughter to rush into something with Stott," she whispered back, chuckling softly. "I'd be happy to make sure she understands how it all works. In fact, I'm honored that you'd ask me to."

"Thank you, Mary." Relief flooded his face. "She can help you wash up, if that'd be alright? That will give you two some time alone."

Mary nodded, still chuckling, and he stood up and turned to the rest of the room.

"Let's give Mary a chance to clean herself up. Lynna, perhaps you could give her a hand?"

"Yes, father." Lynna was fidgeting with her skirt nervously. Mary wondered what all had transpired in her whisperings with Stott. Agmar stood from his chair, nodding, and he and Yilmack led the way out of the room with Avern and Stott behind them. Mary found it amusing that both Stott and Avern took looks behind them, over their shoulder, at the Lynna and Mary respectively. Lynna closed the door behind them and came over to kneel at the edge of the mattress.

"He said something, didn't he? Is he angry with me, truely?"

At that point that Mary was too tired to not laugh. "Oh dear," she said, not intending to mimic Avern but finding herself doing so anyway.

"No, he's not upset with you," she began, grabbing up a wash cloth. "Actually, he's prouder of you than he knows how to say. Merchant and townsfolk he generally knows how to handle, but women aren't exactly a strong point of his, and there are some things he just doesn't know how to discuss."

"What are you saying?" Lynna asked with a skeptical look. Mary started cleaning up blood from where cuts had been. She sighed at that. I'm getting really sick of cleaning up my own blood.

"What? What's wrong?" Now the girl was starting to look worried. Lynna grabbed a washcloth and started helping dab at dried blood where she could get at it easily.

"Oh, nothing. Off the subject entirely. You're father's a little...concerned, maybe. You're a woman, and you're acting it more and more lately, and he's... I think he's worried he didn't prepare you enough. There's some things you didn't have your mother around to explain."

"Waaaait a minute. You're talking about the speech, aren't you?" Lynna blushed deeply. "Oh gods, he tried to do that once. You should have seen him. I didn't know whether to run in embarrassment at what he was trying to say or laugh at how much trouble he was having trying to say it."

"So he never ended up explaining it?" Mary rinsed out the cloth before continuing.

"No...!" Lynna laughed. "Not that he needed to, really. I mean, maybe originally he did, but..."

"You haven't... have you?"

"Oh, no! Not... You mean have I... --Or do you mean with Stott?"

"Um..." Mary reached for a delicate wording, knowing that was never one of her greatest strengths.

"Well, no. I haven't, that is," Lynna said. "With anyone. But I think I know how to. I mean, it doesn't sound that complicated."

"Oh? And just who have you been talking to?"

"I do have friends, Mary!" Lynna sighed, looking upset.

"I'm sorry, I'm not trying to be difficult. Your father doesn't want you to share yourself with a man until you are married is all. He just wants to make sure you understand where that boundry is. It seems to me that if he's saying that, he approves of Stott, but knows that one thing can lead to another is all." Mary had stopped washing to look at the girl, who was wringing the other washcloth out in the basin.

"Look," Lynna said, not looking at Mary, "Margaret explained a few things when I started the bleeding, for one, and two years before that Emilee's mom explained stuff to her and she told me. After she got married, Emilee told me a few other things too. I know what it is that girls aren't supposed to do until they are married. I'm not one of your girls." Lynna put her hand to her mouth, inhaling, and looking at Mary with wide eyes. "I didn't mean that!"

Mary sighed, wondering what the best response really was. If Avern and I are going to be involved, then I guess I had better be honest with the girl. She looked at Lynna directly and took a deep breath.

"Let's just be honest here, Lynna. I run a brothel. The girls there have sex for money. There. I said it. I know that there's a lot of people in town that have bad things to say about my girls and I - "

Mary..." Lynna shook her head, as if to protest.

"Don't, Lynna. I know it's true. I'm not blind. But not a single person who's called one of us a 'whore' has ever tried to get to know us, or they might think differently. Almost every girl working for me has come from a point where she thought there was no future for her anywhere else. They were being beaten or abused by someone when I found them, and I've paid someone off to bring them here. They grew up in brothels themselves, or living in the streets, with no other future ever offered to them. Yes, I'm making a profit while they sell their bodies, but I'm also taking that profit and trying to give them a better future with it. Until I find other ways that each of them can make a living and feel good about themselves, I'm at least giving them a clean, safe environment to work in, doing what they know."

"Oh," Lynna looked as if she didn't know what to say. "I didn't know."

"I don't exactly advertise it. If I'm going to do business with sailors as my clients, they expect a certain level of... debauchery... to be involved. If they thought they were helping a charity they wouldn't bother with us and we'd make no money at all. My inn does bring business to this town, that might otherwise dock elsewhere for the entertainment. That's why they've never shut me down. Even Bentz mostly understood that, despite the fact that I offended his moral dignity by being here. And I've always liked the fact that sailors who've been at sea for months at a time tend to appreciate women more and are less likely to be violent. Enthusiastic, yes, but not as dangerous." She looked back down and frowned at the long slashes down the front of her dress, wiping away more blood from the exposed skin. She found herself worrying about her girls again. I hope Genla can manage to keep things under control.

"Can I ask you a question?" Lynna was fidgeting with the washcloth in her hands, turning it over and over.

"Of course," Mary replied.

"Were you... I mean... um... before you came here, did you..?" she trailed off, and had a distinct resemblance to her father just then.

"Yes. I did. And I ended up in a bad situation myself, with a very violent man as my boss. A lot of terrible things happened and I ran away." She paused a moment, trying to read the girl's face for reaction. "Does that bother you?"

Mary appreciated the fact that Lynna seemed to take a few moments to consider it before answering. She raised her head and looked at Mary, seeming very earnest.

"No, not really. My father wouldn't just choose anyone. Neither would I, for that matter. And when you found out about my being able to use magic, you accepted me without question. I'm not going to judge you by your past when you're not judging me for doing something that so many people seem to think is evil. In the time I've spent around you recently, I've seen enough to know you're a good person, so none of the rest of it really matters."

Mary felt tears well up in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said. Her heart swelled, and she impulsively hugged the girl. After a few moments, they sat back and returned to washing. Mary felt as if a cloud had been lifted from between them.

Chapter 28

But part of Lynna was still uncomfortable, and none of that related to Mary. She wasn't feeling the thoughts and feelings running through Mary. She hadn't realized just how connected she had been to people until that had been taken away from her. She could feel the ability to do it just out of reach. It felt like an itch in her mind she knew she wasn't supposed to scratch.

A few times now she had accidentally tried to scratch that mental itch. The first time had hurt, the second time not so much. The third had been even a little less. It was still like stubbing her toe when she forgot to be dilligently not using it, but she could see that it was getting better. She thought that the better she was about not reaching for it the faster she'd heal and be back to normal.

"You look distracted," Mary said after a lull.

"Oh, it's nothing. There's just so much going on."

She was saved from further explanations by one of Mary's girls dropping in with clothes.

"Really, Mary, for all the time you pester me about taking better care of things..."

"Trisse--"

"I'm kidding, Mary," Trisse said with a smirk and a shake of her head.

"Thank you, Trisse. Is everything alright back at the inn?"

"Syred is spending extra time there. There haven't been any...any more...problems. A few of the sailors have said that means we're past the worst of it, but I don't think so. That Agmar fellow said somewhere along that today was supposed to be the worst. I just hate feeling like I'm waiting for the axe to fall. I'm so tired... Everyone is," she said. A yawn either punctuated it or cut off whatever else she was going to say.

"You didn't come here alone, did you?" Mary asked.

"Oh, no!" Trisse replied. "Nobody is traveling alone right now, especially with Bentz on the prowl!"

"What?!" Mary looked horrified. Lynna had to struggle not to reach to see what she was thinking.

"I thought you knew..." Trisse put a hand over her mouth.

"Marcus killed Bentz. I saw it."

Trisse shook her head. "He got back up. After you were gone. Two of the sailors tried to stop him. They're both dead. I heard his eyes weren't red or anything, but his skin was a bluish gray. Nobody can explain how he's still walking about."

"It's helping him," Mary answered, her face as white as the sheets around her. "The evil is helping him stay alive because it's convinced him he wants us dead. We haven't reached the peak of its power yet either. Gods help us." She put her head in her hands.

"We're being extra careful at the inn, and Syred's set people into small little patrol groups to keep a lookout for him. We're supposed to run away if we see Bentz and let Syred deal with him instead. Alexis said she saw him sharpening his sword so he can cut off Bentz's head. She seems pretty sure that he can't keep going if he doesn't have a head anymore."

"I'm sure that Syred can handle Bentz," Mary said, raising her head again. "Just make sure none of you let him get too close to you. He's always been strongly against our presence in this town and all of that has been amplified by the evil. I don't think he'd hesitate to kill any of you girls." She paused a moment, before changing the subject. "How's Genla holding up?"

"Alright, I guess," Trisse replied. "She's keeping herself, and us, really busy mostly. Somehow she's managed to set townsfolk and sailors to work cleaning the inn! With the amount of people we've got sweeping and washing things we may not have to clean again for years! I think people are relieved to just be doing something instead of sitting around waiting for something terrible to happen to them next. I think it's helping her to not think about what happened to Marcus, too. She was really a wreck for a bit there. I've never seen her like that."

Mary nodded.

"Please tell Genla that I'll come back when I can, but that I may be laid up here for a while. I'm physically fine, but I've lost a lot of blood and my energy is just gone. It's going to be a bit before I'm able to walk back home."

"Yes Mary," Trisse nodded. "Anything else?"

"No, I think you're all doing a wonderful job. As long as everyone stays calm over there and keeps their head on straight, I'm sure you'll all be just fine."

Mary smiled at the girl fondly, and Lynna felt a pang of jealousy. She's thinks of them more as daughters, doesn't she? I'd never really thought about it before.

The two exchanged farewells, and Lynna was suprised when the young woman included her as well, before heading out of the room. Mary started unbuttoning buttons on her ruined dress, with a sigh.

"I seem to feel a little better once I'm in clean clothes again, so help me with this, won't you?"

"Of course," Lynna replied, reaching in and unfastening the next button. The got the dress and corset off and wiped blood off the remaining areas that hadn't been accessible before Lynna helped Mary into the fresh clothing. Once they were done, Mary sat back with a sigh.

"I suppose we can let the men back in now," she said. "Perhaps they can bring us more tea."

"I'll let them know," Lynna said, jumping to her feet. She gathered up the washclothes, pitcher, and basin onto the tray and went to the door. Stott was sitting on the floor in the hallway, leaning back against the wall across from the door and picking at something on his pants with his fingernail. He startled when he realized the door was open and Lynna was standing there. He quickly got to his feet.

"Hi! Um...can I take that?" He put his hands out for the tray.

"Sure. Where's my father and Agmar?" she asked, hoping that her father wasn't giving Agmar any more grief about what had happened to her.

"There's something happening at the docks, so they both went there with some other people," he replied, taking the tray from her hands. "Somebody said that the ships are being hit by lightning and some are on fire. Agmar said I should stay here with you and Mary."

The sore spot in her mind burned at her when she accidentally reached out to try to ask Agmar what was going on. She grunted in frustration.

"Here, let me drop this in the kitchen," Stott suggested. Mary stepped to the door, asking, "What did you say?"

"Lightning is hitting ships at the docks. There are apparently some fires started, but Agmar has it all in hand."

Mary looked as frustrated and helpless as Lynna felt. Mary was silent at that, and Stott turned and headed off to the kitchen. "Want to go sit somewhere?" Lynna suggested.

"Sure, I don't think I could stand staying cooped up in one room right now."

"The dining hall? At least there whenever news comes in we'll hear it."

"Good enough," Mary agreed. Mary went first and Lynna followed. The dining room was almost full but not quite. There was no dancing, and there was no seating available at tables. Extra, mismatched chairs had been lined up along the walls. It reminded Lynna of how chairs were set up for the dance at the schoolhouse a couple of winters ago.

A pair of burly men sitting along one wall stood up and offered chairs to Mary. "Do I look that bad?"

"You're Lady Mary, right?" one of them asked.

"Yep, that's me, although you don't have to be formal about it."

"Well, we've both heard you've been through a lot. An' there's little all else we can seem ta do to be helpful around here. Iffen the best we can do is offer a chair to a lady, 'en that's somefin we can do."

"Fair enough... Thank you."

Lynna thanked the one that offered her his chair. He looked vaguely familiar, but she did not recognize him.

"We was stayin' at that tavern that burnt," he explained. "I got bit by that little monster thing. Right on the cheek. Swore tha’ damt thing was gonna bit my nose off. You healed it right up, though," he said, pointing to his undamaged but still worn and weathered cheek. "Thank ye, by the by."

"Oh, you're welcome. It might not be a lot, but at least I can help out a little. Or rather I could at the time..."

"Hey, ye needn't be so humble about it. Don' be embarrassed, lass. We've both here been to cities where magicks aint all superstitious stuff to be fearin'."

"Really?" she asked, finally sitting in the offered chair. Mary had already sat in hers. The two men went ahead and sat on the floor, trying to situate themselves out of traffic.

Stott arrived with a fresh tray of teacups, and handed one each to Lynna and Mary before taking a spot on the floor at Lynna's feet.

"Aye, Miss," the other one replied. "Our ship's been ta four con'n'ents. We seen plenty o' magicks an' other exotical things. An' Steph here's the best fer tellin' it iffen ye want ta hear about it."

Lynna bobbed her head at them, a part of her feeling as if she was committing some small crime by wanting to hear about it, and another part of her desperately yearning to hear of the lands where magic wasn't a terrible thing.

"Well then," Steph said, after clearing his throat. "It seems ta me that there be four differ'nt kinds o' wizards in them there parts. There be the fightin' wizards, like yer Agmar seems ta mostly be. There be the healin' wizards, like ye seemed inclined towards yerself there miss." He gave Lynna a nod. "There be the scholarly types, although ye don't see them so much as they've got their noses in old dusty scrolls an' books all the time. An' lastly, ye got the entertainin' wizards. They sometimes have got themselves some learnin' of the other magics, but they're more intrest'd in makin' magic look good. It's all flashes an' lights fer them. From what I unnerstan' them other wizards don't look too fondly on them flashy ones, but then they're just given a show instead o' savin' the world and all."

"What can you tell me of..." It took Lynna a minute to come up with the name she'd heard Agmar mention earlier, "of Pirshenia?"

"Well, lass, Pirshenia be a more inland city, so's I've not been there myself. I have been ta Rayehden though, and I don't suppose the port cities are much diffr'nt than Pirshenia, exceptin' the docks. I ain't never seen the Hall o' Glimmer meself, if that's what yer after, but I done heard tell about it from a few."

"Both, if you would please. What are the people like in Rayehden? And I would like to hear about the Hall of Glimmer too!" Lynna told him.

"Aye then. The Hall o' Glimmer, I hear tell, was made entirely by magic. Oh, it be constructed o' more than that, in fact some say it be made entirely o' that black stone... hema-somethin' or other... an' that it abosorbs the magic in the air around it. But the real thing is, the durn thing floats. Ye gotta take a long stairway ta get up to it. From below, it looks like one big black round ball just hangin' there in the sky. The Hall o' Glimmer is where the toughest an' smartest of all the wizards go when they need ta hold council. I heard what Agmar said earlier about callin' that place home. That be no small thing, I tell ye, as only the best of them wizards have perm'n'nt rooms there. The place is open to all of 'em fer research an' stuff, but not just anybody gits ta spend the night if yer gettin' me drift."

By now, Steph had half the room's attention. People were scooting closer to be able to hear better, and Lynna noticed that Steph's voice seemed to project a little bit more as he continued talking. She could tell he was quite comfortable telling stories to crowds, and was enjoying the sudden audience.

"Now, Dorvenin is one o' the big port cities on Rayehden. It be a place where ye can find 'most anything, whether ye be lookin' or not. Ye can find exotics good from all o'er the globe, an' people from all sorts o' strange cultures. There be different kinds o' clothes, from fancy gowns so expensive ladies have girls walkin' behind 'em to keep the hems from draggin' on the ground to folks who cover themselves head to foot in robes so's that only there eyes can ye see.

"Ye can find knights in armor on their big 'orses an'all, ye can find wizards an sorceresses an' dirty ol' witches. An' if yer big an' stupid like me ye can even find true love. But ye can also lose everythin' there, so I wouldn't be advisin' ye ever go there."

"Aye," Steph's friend said, "Dorvenin's both the best an' the worst o' ports."

Of course, Lynna knew she didn't have to travel to find love, and she looked over at Stott and smiled. He was oblivious to it, looking at Steph with a skeptical look.

"Thar's also a school for magicks in Dorvenin, an' that's somefin to see. Is called the White School, an' it's all made o' the whitest stone ye've ever seen. In the morn'n sun it looks like it's carvt o' snow. Thar's eight towers there, an' every on a diff'ren' number o' sides. Thar's a low one wit' t'ree, one wit' four that's got lots o' balconies, one wit five...ye get's the idea, I s'pose."

Lynna nodded, not wanting to distract him. He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow conspiratorially. His eyebrows looked too long and bushy for his face.

"But they say--an' the wizards always deny it--but they say that the real stuff is all underground. They say thar's an entire city down there, whar buildin's hang down like icicles. They say thar be drag'ns flyin' around down thar, wingin' around between those hangin' buildin's, and that that's whar the first magicks done come from.

"Now wizards always deny it, an' Agmar will, too. Maybe 'tis true, an' maybe 'tis not. I could'na say. If 'tis true, then ever'one who knows is sworn ta secr'cy."

"I'd say that's an awfully tall tale, sir," Stott spoke up, frowning.

"Aye, lad!" Steph replied, looking at Stott and narrowing his eyes, "Ye might think so ta hear it, but then most of the tallest tales be startin' from somethin' true. Methinks there be somethin' under that city that the wizards got what they ain't tellin' us about." He waggled a finger at Stott. "An' if ye be quest'n'n the idea o' drag'ns, I be here ta tell ya that there be drag'ns out there. I've seen two meself, I tell ya, one up real close even! An ye don't want ta be unfriendly to the like o' them! One breath o' fire took out three ships! She set them all ablaze while her mate was busy dealin' wit' the other ships! We was all comin' an' goin' right at a harbor so there were plenty ships burnin' that day!" He swooped his hand dramatically to represent the movements of the dragon.

"She were comin' down fer our ship next. Not the Mornin's Maid, mind ye, another ship I were on a few year back. She swooped down outta the sky and made a dive towards us like a buzzard comin' down on a fresh kill, with death in 'er eyes! But then she turned at the last minute, all graceful-like, which were suprisin' considerin' how big them critters are, an' then she just looked down on us, one of 'er eyes closed an' the other big purple pupil just starin' at us while she hung in midair, them great wing o' hers flappin' away somethin' fierce so that we was just havin' ta hold onta the ropes so's we didn't fly off the ship from the wind!"

"Now her mate, he were not far off, fixin' to take down another of the ships I were with, an' she just turns an' calls out ta him with this great roar. It were so loud I thought it could've burst me ears iffen I'd been any closer! Then the mate calls back ta her an she turns an whips her tail across the side o' the ship, gouging a long tear in our starboard. Then she an' the mate take off flyin'. We was the only boat what didn't burn that day. I dunno why it was she left us fer the fish, but we weren't too far from some islands, see, so's most of us off that ship made it to the land, along wit' a few what had jumped the burnin' ships."

"So don't be tryin' ta tell me that drag'ns aren't real, young man. That drag'n be near as big as the ship I were on at the time, an' it weren't no tug."

"You were a pirate," Mary said suddenly. She sounded very certain of herself. "I've heard that story before. It supposedly happened just outside what some call Pirate's Cove, at a point when the Rayehden Naval Fleet was barricading it. I heard the two dragons took out both sides."

"Aye, Lady Mary. All ships but one burned that day. There were a few small boats left at the docks that they didn't do anythin' to, but both the Fleet an' the general piratin' community took heavy casualties that day. I vowed that day never ta pirate again, thankin' the goddess fer sparin' me life!"

"I thought ye left piracy because that girl got -- oof!"

Steph turned and puched his friend in the stomach with a big grin on his face. "Shut up, Mick. Ye don't know what yer talkin' about."

"Right..." Mick muttered, rubbing his stomach and frowning at Steph.

"What are the other continents like?" Lynna asked.

"Well, lass, ye might's well be askin' what the world's like then, eh?" He laughed a quiet roar that only served to draw the crowd closer. The movement reminded her they were there, and her eyes drifted over the assembled faces. It was especially locals that had gathered close, although there were some out-of-towners as well. It occurred to Lynna that for all the people who had come here from another town, or city, or from some far away place, there were also plenty like her, who had either been very little when they came here, or had born here, and simply didn't know any other place.

"The world's a big place," Steph said, echoing the same thought she had. "An' 'tis full o' strange and wond'rous things. 'Tis too much to tell. Thar be jungles where 'tis like the hott'st days o' summer all year roun', an' it rain's ever'day. Thar be birds there o' every col'r ye can think in that perty head o' yers. An' thar be buggers there, bigguns like ye've never seen. Flyin' ones and creep-crawlies. An' most of 'em bite 'r sting, an' thar's just no escapin' 'em."

"It's true, too," someone in the crowd stayed. Our ship docked at one of the ports at the edge. Hellish place that was..."

"Then thar's the Sea o' Sand," Steph continued, "which be a vast desert. An' it be rightly named, aye, an' they say ye can get lost easy there like on the ocean. Ye can look around in ev'ry direction and see the same thing--nothin' but sand. Thar be no shade anywhere, an' ye hafta travel by night 'r the sun'll cook ye. An ever'one there wears white robes that cover 'em all up safe.

"An thar be mount'ns...ahhh, thar be mount'ns. Thar be a whole other kind o' beautif'l that ye've never seen 'til you've seen a sunset in the mount'ns. Thar be waterfalls there hunnerds of feet high. The water comes down an' splashes an' there are little rainbows ever'where.

"But me, I'll always be a seadog. Gimme the spreadin' blue, gimme the salty air, gimme the wind in me face an' slappin' at the canvas. We all have the sea in our blood, me friends. 'Cause what'o we do wit' babies but rock 'em. 'Tis the sea and the ship in our blood callin' us. An' it do work fer the wee ones, an' it do work fer me. I nev'r sleep as well on land 'cause it aint movin'." There were several grunts of agreement from the crowd, so many of which were sailors or passengers.

A sudden, shrill scream pierced the air, coming from the direction of the kitchens. People leapt to their feet, although Lynna found herself near the front of the crowd as she nearly vaulted from her chair to the door. She raced down the hallway, pushing past people and then coming up short at the scene in the kitchen.

There were only two people in the kitchen prior to Lynna's arrival. One of them was a serving girl. She looked to be only a couple years younger than Lynna was, and was making a long terrified moaning sound as she stood paralyzed by fear, three kitchen knives dangling in midair with their blades pointed in her direction. The cook was also in the room, but was slumped over on the table, clutching a knife that was impaled into her chest. Lynna could see the handle of a second knife protruding from the back of the cook's shoulder as well, and the woman fell to the floor as Lynna watched.

She moved quickly, grabbing up one of the large iron frypans and running forward. She saw the blades swing towards her, as if noticing her approach as she brought the frypan down, smashing at them with all her might. The serving girl bolted as soon as the knives turned, tearing out of the kitchen with a loud wail.

One of the blades was deflected away, skittering across the floor once it fell. Another dodged out from under the frypan just before she made impact, dancing in the air in front of her. The third slipped forward, and was suddenly embedded in Lynna, off-centered just under the ribcage. She looked down at it, in disbelief, the frypan slipping from her fingers as she reached to hold onto it, unsure if she should pull it out or leave it in. The other knife danced in front of her face, and slashed at her cheeks and nose. She brought one arm up, to protect her eyes and slid down to the floor, pain tearing at her from the inside where she held the knife blade steady. Suddenly the knife pulled itself out of her, slicing her hand open in the process. Lynna screamed and curled up, trying to hide as much of herself from the blades as possible.

Then the frypan rose from the ground where she'd dropped it, and it began to smash at her knees and shoulders and head. Her head rang around her, though she tried to cover it with her arms. She felt bones break in her shoulders and legs before someone's strong arms gathered her up and took her from the room. She could hear people yelling things, but couldn't tell for sure what they were saying. She knew she was screaming. The worst pain was coming from within, however, as she kept trying to reach for the magic to help her. It seemed to be just out of grasp, hiding from her behind a wall of needles that stabbed at her mind every time she tried to pass.

It only grew worse for her when she started hearing other people screaming. She forced herself to focus and look around her. She was in the dining room again, on the floor leaned against the wall. She could not immediately find Stott.

She had never seen such a panic before. One of the knives had followed into the room, and was chasing people. Chairs were flying about, hitting people and knocking them over. There were people alternately pounding and heaving at the door, but it would not open.

Someone screamed and made a diving run through one of the windows. Glass fell about, any sound it made completely overwhelmed by the pandemonium all about. Lynna saw the glass shards get up and fly out the window like angry hornets. The subsequent screams from outside she could hear.

Her hand was wet, and she looked down to see herself wet with blood that just kept oozing out of her. She felt queasy, and she felt sure that could not be a good sign. She looked around again for Stott, but he was missing. She tried to yell out for him, but her side erupted with pain and she fell over.

She blink and looked across the floor. She could not move her head to look anywhere else. Furniture was broken, and there were other people lying on the floor like her. They were slumped all wrong, and too many weren't moving. Where is Stott? Why can't I see him? She expected Agmar to burst in at any moment and make everything better. She threw up and saw blood in the pool it made, although she could not taste anything. Confusion was the last thing she was aware of before she passed out.

Chapter 29

Agmar stood beside him, his jaw clenched and veins showing in his neck as he concentrated. Water moved everwhere around them, being thrown against the ships and moving over the crowd in long funnels to go and douse the buildings that had caught fire. Avern saw that he was manipulating at least two water columns at any given time, between the docks and the town. He could swear that the water level at the shorline was a good three feet lower than it normally was at it's lowest point in the day.

Suddenly Agmar sputtered and slumped to the ground in a heap. Water splashed back down against the docks near them as one of the columns collapsed. He knelt down, concerned, as the wizard swore harshly enough to make even a couple of the sailors nearby cough in surprise.

"What's wrong now? What's happened?" He held back from shaking the man. There were times he just wanted to hit him for all the information the wizard held back from saying. When Agmar looked up at him, however, Avern saw that his eyes were filled with desperation and despair. He's doing more than we can see right now. I have to remember that. The man is doing all he can, but he is just one man.

"Something..." Agmar closed his eyes for a moment. "We are nearing the peak. Objects are attacking the people. Lynna's unconscious. Stott is wounded. I know other minds, I need to see more... Maragret... oh Gods help us!" He looked up at Avern with wide eyes filled with horror. "We bound them all! The children! The rope is tightening around them!"

It took Avern a moment to register anything beyond hearing that his daughter was unconscious.

"Lynna!" he turned to run back towards the Surf and Sleep, heedless of anything but his daughter being hurt. He found himself held back as Agmar was suddenly standing again, his hand firmly holding onto Avern's arm.

"I have no eyes at the schoolhouse, Avern. I need you there instead. I will go to Lynna and send word to Syred. You there!" Still holding onto Avern, Agmar turned and pointed to one of the nearby townsfolk. "You know the warehouse we have people in?" The man nodded. "Take three men with you. Get there and untie everyone! The rope is trying to kill them! Go NOW!"

Agmar turned back to Avern as the realization was dawning over him. By the Gods! We bound all the children in town with rope! What have we done!

"Avern, there is more than just your own child at stake right now. Go the schoolhouse. I may send you messages in your mind, be prepared for that. Untie them all, Avern!" He gave Avern a push and closed his eyes for a moment, his mouth moving as if he were talking to someone Avern couldn't see. Avern turned and chose three people randomly from the crowd.

"You three! Go with him to the warehouse," he said, directing them at the man Agmar had picked out of the crowd. He then picked out another three. "You three, with me!" He started walking backwards, making sure that the ones he had chosen were following him. It concerned him that Agmar didn't seem to be making any effort to head to the Surf and Sleep yet. He had opened his eyes, but wasn't making any move to walk, much less run to help Lynna.

"Agmar...?" he stopped walking and began to address the wizard when suddenly the man threw his head back with a look of someone in terrible pain. There was a feeling of electricity in the air, and then suddenly Agmar vanished. Everyone in the crowd stood there for a moment, sharing looks of astonishment.

I am at the inn now Avern. Agmar's voice flooded through Avern's mind as if the man was standing next to him in a quiet room. Get to the schoolhouse, please! The inn was farther to reach, but you can still get to the schoolhouse in time to help them if you hurry!

"He's at the inn," he told the onlookers. "We have to get to the schoolhouse! Let's move!" He turned and ran, hardly noticing the fire that was still spreading across sections of the town as he passed them. He ignored the the cramping pain that started up in his side as he pushed his feet to go faster. He started hearing the loud shrill voices of people screaming before he even came into sight of the schoolhouse.

He had never seen such chaos and confusion before. Forks and small knives were flying everywhere. A fire was spreading through the back. People ran and screamed.

He tried to get their attention, but was too short of breath from running. There were people trying to untie the children, even while being attacked from behind by flying objects. Chairs were walking around by themselves and he saw a table rear up like a horse and start kicking someone. He blinked at the impossibility of it while he caught his breath.

He rushed over to the children. They were all off to one side of the room, lined up neatly. He joined in trying to untie the children. The ropes were like snakes coiling and uncoiling, even in his hands. He helped another man and got a child free. She sat there for a moment panting and just breathing.

Like some parlor magician's trick one end of the rope sailed up into the air, wrapping around a ceiling beam. The other end wrapped itself around the man next to Avern and lifted him into the air. Avern tried to grab the man's ankles as he was pulled out of reach, but he was too late. The man's legs kicked just out of reach. Avern didn't know what to do. The man grabbed at the rope with one hand and pointed to the kids with the other.

Avern turned back and pried at the rope at another child. A woman handed him a knife before using one herself to start cutting at the ropes. They were not very thick and were not hard to cut. Avern followed her lead.

At first it worked, and cut lengths of rope lay on the floor after several children had been freed. The freed children mostly ran out of the schoolhouse. But then there were simply more ropes to fight against. Agmar howled in frustration.

He turned and worked his way down the line of children, trying to cut rope into small enough segments that it couldn't wrap around anything vital anymore. He couldn't be thorough enough, however, if he wanted to free them all. By the time he reached the last one, he was the only person who was still trying to free them, the others having either fled or encountered other problems that prevented them from helping. He looked down at the girl, who looked to be about ten years of age, and saw that the rope that had bound her hands had already untied itself and wrapped around her neck. She was trying to pull it away, but her face was already starting to turn a bluish tint as she gasped for air. Her feet were still bound together, and she banged her heels against the floor desperately.

He rolled her over and slipped the knife in under the rope at the back of her neck, relieved to hear her taking great gasping breaths as he cut the rope away. He turned her back over and pulled the remaining tangle of rope off of her and flung it as far as he could before turning to cut through the rope at her feet. Suddenly something smashed against his back sending him flat against the floor with all the air rushing out of him. The knife flew out of his hands and clattered across the floor. Not far from him, something crashed against the floor loudly. Once he'd gotten air in his lungs again, he turned and saw that the ceiling was covered with a wisp-like layer of golden flames. Certain areas seemed to burn faster than others, and Avern saw timbers being burnt at either end, while still untouched at the centers of the thick wooden beams. The man who'd been pulled into the air swung lifelessly from the rope around his neck before the rope burned through and he fell to the floor in a heap.

Avern turned and looked for the knife, to find it dancing midair and pointed at him. He managed to dodge its first attack, and turned and grabbed the girl up in his arms.

"Hold onto me! We've got to get out of here!" he yelled to her. Her eyes were filled with terror, and she didn't answer him but wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his chest. He got to his feet as the knife stabbed him in the back, hitting bone in his shoulderblade that prevented it from doing any serious damage. He gritted his teeth and ran for the door. The muscles tore around the knife blade as it began cutting a line down his back on one side. He roared in pain, trying to run out from under the knife as much as trying to get to the door.

There was movement in front of him as he reached the doorway, and his feet were pulled out from beneath him, each with a rope wound around it. He flung the girl forward, out of the building, and saw her sit up in the grass outside before the ropes dragged him backwards on his stomach. He clawed at the floor with his fingernails, trying to stop himself.

All at once, the rope let go, and he stopped moving. The knife had carved back upwards, and he managed to bring his hand around and yank it away from his back, cutting his fingers some in the process. He took it by the handle and slammed it blade-first into the floor beneath him, embedding it into the floor halfway to the hilt.

He got to his knees, focused on the doorway, with plans to try and run for it. A timber fell nearby as he got to his feet, and the building shook with the impact. A man screamed at the back of the room as he ran from further in, his clothing and hair in flames. Avern ran. He clenched his teeth together, trying to ignore the pain tearing across his back and set his eyes on the doorway ahead of him.

He came close enough to recognize some of the faces of the people outside before a rug pulled out from beneath him as he ran over it. He fell to the floor with a cry of pain and then screamed as a timber fell across his back, the weight of it bearing down on his hips and pinning him to the ground.

Avern saw two men run back in. They had to dodge flame at the doorway to do so. The fire was quickly moving to trap everyone in, but was advancing slowly other than that. He heard another timber fall somewhere he could not see.

"I can't feel my legs," he managed to say. Will Agmar be able to heal that?

The two men looked down at him, looked at each other, and tried to move the timber. They could shift it a little, but they could not lift it. One took out a short sword at at his hip and swung at the timber. Even unable to see the spot the man was working at Avern could tell the little blade could not possibly do enough in time.

"Go, leave me."

"No, mister," the other one said, "one of those girls you saved was mine. If we can save you, we will. Lu, grab that timber over there, maybe we can use it as a lever."

The man with the sword came back into Avern's view with a six-foot-long timber. The two men used it to shift the beam off his hips. Avern started pulling himself forward with his arms when more of the ceiling collapsed.

The improvised lever broke and the two men fell to the ground. Avern heard a crunching sound that part of him knew had to be bones in his legs being crushed. It scared him that he could not feel it.

The men picked themselves up off the floor. They were starting to choke from the smoke now. Avern could feel the heat of flames on the piece of fallen ceiling. "We're out of time, get out."

Lu cursed and hacked with his sword again, having no more effect than before.

"No, Lu, that won't work fast enough," the other one said. "Mister," he said to Avern, "we're going to get you out of here. You're going to live. Please forgive me." The man pointed to something. "There, Lu. Cut there."