11

.~~~.

"You she-devil!" Glodon shouted. "I'd agree to anything if it would save us! But this?" He gestured to the burial mound that Isro was standing above – shovel in his hand and ready to dig. "Making a mockery of Celdan's grave is going too far!"

Ysadette expected that kind of reaction. She understood it, actually. "I wish there was another way," she said. "However, seeing as you've been unable to recall anything about our witch, we don't have many other viable options. The longer we deliberate over which method is best, the more difficult this will be. Any lingering magicka that she may have left behind will continue to dissipate, leaving me without a trail to follow."

Glodon ran his hands over his head and turned away from her. "Just let me think for a few minutes and maybe I'll…"

Ysadette coughed into her hand. She had been patient with him, but it was already two hours past midday. Daylight was burning fast and she doubted that either of them would be in a state fit for travel if they let sun set. Let alone face down a witch, should she fail in negotiating with her. "Do you have any idea what resurrecting a body involves?" Ysa asked. "It's not a simple process and it takes a lot of magicka to perform."

Glodon turned his head around and glared at her with the kind of disdain Ysadette had become accustomed to. "No, I don't. But I'm sure it's something awful," he said. "All you mages are like that. You don't care about being decent! About respecting people!"

"And stealing from random travelers in the woods is among the things you consider decent and respectful?" Ysa asked as she chewed on the insults building on the tip of her tongue. "Either way, you haven't any right to lecture me considering you've gotten not only yourself into this mess, but perhaps many innocent people as well. Unless you can focus, Celdan will have to help us instead."

Glodon's hand fidgeted next to his dagger again. His face twisted into a sneer – the gap showing where his tooth should've been. "Then what are you waiting for?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "My blessing to defile his corpse?"

Ysadette shook her head. "Your permission."

Glodon buried his face in his hands and let out a sigh so loud she could hear the phlegm in his throat. "Fine," he muttered, "Do it."

She nodded at Isro, who plunged the shovel into the dirt without a word.

Glodon took his place beside her, his eyes cast down at the grave. "How does this even work, huh?" he asked. "How do you intend to speak with a corpse?"

"The only way we can," Ysa said. "A soul must be present for any manner of life, but since Celdan's has long departed, I'll need to supply something in its place."

Glodon's expression was vacant. On some of his best days, Ulpo was more mindful, it seemed.

"To accomplish this, I'm going to channel a large portion my own magicka into his body," Ysa said. "Once I have enough, I'll use it to act as an imitation of a soul, allowing me to reanimate him. At that point, however, I will not be able to do much besides sit quietly."

"How so?" Glodon asked.

"Necromancy is a very demanding School to practice," Ysa said. "I'd not count myself skilled in it, either. Some experienced necromancers can go about their business without any trouble, but I'll need to focus to prevent the body from turning to dust."

"I don't like it. Isn't this blasphemy of some sort?" Glodon said, whistling through his missing tooth.

"The Mages Guild seemed to think so during the Third Era," Ysa said. "To the point of publicly condemning the practice. However, considering they formally dissolved long before any of us were born, I believe we'll have nothing to worry about."

"They had a point. It was your kind that caused the Oblivion Crisis, wasn't it?" Glodon said.

"If blaming the whole mage community for the actions of a small Daedric cult makes us responsible, then yes," Ysa said. "Which reminds me, what do you know of witches?"

"They, uh…" Glodon stammered, "They're what you Breton women turn into when you get old, aren't they?"

Ysa glared at him. "I'm afraid not," she said. "They're typically devout Daedra worshipers, which is why they prefer secluded places like caves and shacks in the woods. They're essentially free from the prying eyes of the Vigilant of Stendarr."

Glodon nodded, silently listening.

"There was once a coven based in High Rock, the Glenmoril Wyrd, who were followers of Hircine, Prince of the Hunt," Ysa continued. "However, they weren't thoroughly wicked. Some were even helpful, going so far as to cure many unwilling lycanthropes so they wouldn't be forced into an eternal hunt."

"Could you explain why that matters to us now?" Glodon asked.

"Because I suspect this witch we're dealing with is similar," Ysa said. "Much like the Glenmoril witches, her ability to manifest curses would suggest she has the ear of a Prince. In turn, she would have the means to remove the curse should she feel compelled to do so. As for the manner of the curse, all manner of disease is often associated with Peryite, Lord of Pestilence."

Glodon stepped away from her, squinting severely. "You seem to know quite a bit about Daedra," he said. "More than someone ought to."

"I, er, dabbled in quite a few things when I was a girl," Ysa said. "The sorts of things that my mother wouldn't have been thrilled knowing about. Curiosity superseded any sort of proper judgment, unfortunately."

Glodon poorly hid the repulsion written on his face. "Sounds like you'd end up on a chopping block to me," he said.

"If I were in Cyrodiil at the time, then I likely would have," Ysa said. "High Rock, however, isn't quite as conservative when it comes to things arcane in nature. It also helped that I lived in a tiny village that wasn't drawn on any maps."

Isro grunted as he dumped a load of dirt onto the pile and wiped his arm across his forehead. He stepped back and revealed Celdan's ghastly body curled up in the grave.

"He doesn't look like he'd be able to speak to us," Glodon said, covering his mouth. "Isn't any color left in him."

Ysa stepped around the edge of the mound and looked over the corpse. "I once read that the stage of decomposition only affects the awareness of the raised body," Ysa said. "Not the viability. So, considering he's only been dead for the better part of two days, his body should be fairly sentient."

Glodon tensed up. "Do you mean he'll know what's happening?" he said.

"I know how appalling it sounds, but this is a good thing for us," Ysa said. "If we'd waited too long, the only thing he would be capable of doing is moaning at us."

Glodon knelt in front of the burial mound and hunched over, his eyes hauntingly wide. "Will he be in pain?" he asked barely above a whisper.

"If it were immediately after death, then yes," Ysa said. "At this point, though, it's highly unlikely. A bit chilly, perhaps, but otherwise numb."

His short, breath-like chuckle was starved of happiness. Glodon sat back on his heels and balled his fists on the ground, gathering a fistful of grass and dirt. "Dammit Cel, how'd it end up like this?" he muttered and hung his head.

"Do you need a moment?" Ysa asked, "I understand if…"

He shook his head and sighed raggedly. "Let's just get this done," Glodon said as he stood up. "While I still have the stomach for it."

Ysa watched him slink away – his eyes dark and sorrowful before took her place in front of the grave.

With a deep breath, she clasped her hands tightly and let the flow of magicka inside her well up. Ysadette envisioned it reaching across the gap from her fingertips to the corpse in front of her. The energy gathered into a blue swirl, shaping itself.

She took another deep breath and fell deep into a trance to hold together the frayed ends.

An unfamiliar voice spoke in a garbled language with the two she knew. Whispers between them filled the blackness, but none of it was coherent to her.

Then it began. The icy touch of the grave crept into her. The endless void enveloped her – begged her to lose herself in a place without end. She knew that place. But Ysa heard the beating of her own heart in the silence, acting as the trail to lead her back. As long as she didn't forget what mattered the most, she could find her way.

Don't lose yourself. Stay anchored.

Ba-bump. Ba-bump.

.~~~.

Ysadette clawed at the windowsill of the townhouse as another tremor tossed the city to the side. It crashed to a stop. She slammed against the wall shoulder first. Vein-like cracks spread over the paved streets, climbing fast up the foundations and walls of buildings around her. Then, the tremors it stopped. There was an opportunity. She sucked down a shallow breath, locked her teeth together and sprinted down the street, anticipating another to strike at any time. Cries for divine protection filled the air between the booming vibrations. There had never been an earthquake like this one in Anvil. And they knew it.

A pebble on the ground quivered and leaped up at her. It was coming. With no other option, Ysadette locked her arms around a lamppost. The decorations hanging from the top bounced and swung around, throwing flower petals down at her. Ysa looked back to see the ground twisting up to meet her. It was so close she could reach out and touch it. While standing up. It flopped down again, shattering the stone with an ear-splitting crackle. Calm again. Another opportunity that she wasted no time taking.

Ysadette shouldn't have been running, especially not to the heart of whatever in the name of Akatosh was going on. The heaviness in her chest building as she stumbled her way across town told her she already knew was happening. But she had to go. If not to put a stop to it than to keep her mind too busy to fashion horrid ideas of what happened to Andard after she left him at the docks.

She spat curses at herself. She should've stayed. Without her there to keep him safe…

A streak of red leaped into the sky like a bolt of lightning going the wrong way. It came from the Chapelgate District.

From her home.

A light flashed from her window as she neared the entrance. She elbowed the door open just as a tremor worse than the others bowled her over. Ysa held her head up and looked at the disarray she'd come home to. Her books were thrown around, pages folded to her dismay, her chairs overturned and her flowers spilled in the floor. And in the middle of it all was what she feared, but expected.

The tremors, the destruction, they were her Mentor's doing.

Crimson tendrils, glowing and hot like coals, lashed out from Ulpo's chest. Wisps of the same color circled the room, pulsating with each rhythmic thump. She could taste the magic of it around her. Bitter. Sour. Like everything foul in the world had been mixed together into one sickening miasma.

"Mentor!" Ysa shouted, "Ulpo! Please!"

He shot a look at her, eyes ablaze in an unsullied white. His face was mild, but there was a tinge of fury so close to the surface that Ysa was afraid he'd turn her to mist.

She swallowed hard and dared to yell again. "Stop!"

Her vision filled with deep red and she screamed. She heard the glass of the window shatter when it burst out into the street, one final tremor rattling the structure of her home with a deep roar. It rolled across the city, hurrying to die in the hills beyond the walls.

Then, as if nothing had happened, there came a stillness. The sides of Ysa's head were throbbing, but otherwise, it was silent. She rolled over with a groan and winced at the flaring knots in her muscles.

The soft padding of Ulpo's slippers on the floor approached her, but something about them was different. If she hadn't seen him already, she would have believed it was someone else walking towards her by the gait alone. Each step was steadily placed, lacking the feebleness that came with age but with the strength and intention of a much younger man. A face came into her view, but it wasn't Ulpo that stood above her. It was a face that shared his sharp angles and lines, and it was looking down at her with tired, darkened eyes.

He knelt down, slipped a wiry arm between her back and the floor, and held her. He looked over her, making a clicking sound with his tongue as his face tightened into a grimace.

Ysadette's mind told her the elf cradling her was none other than her doddering Mentor, but her eyes insisted it wasn't. He was always smiling and friendly, but this stranger's face was twisted into a frown with such an intensity that Ysa couldn't imagine him making another expression.

She reached out for his hand, catching it as he tried to push the matted hair out her face. Ysadette turned it over and traced her thumb over the crevasses and hills of his knuckles.

Her arm twitched and forced her fingers to curl around his hand. It was the same one that she had led away from the docks. The genial owner called Ulpo had taken his leave, though. In his place was a grim figure, no greater in size but carrying such a presence that he appeared to be twice that. Ysa hesitated, then dared to put a hand over the jutting bone of his cheek. "Mentor?" she said. "Who are you, really?"

As if she hadn't spoken, Ulpo pushed her hand away and went back to caring for her, stopping at her arm and rubbing his thumb along a scrape. The corners of his mouth turned into a deeper frown than they already were and he brushed over it again, a shimmer of gold knitting the wound with such gentleness that she scarcely felt his touch.

"I asked a question," Ysa said.

His lips parted like he was about to answer, but his glower locked them again. Ulpo shook his head and lifted her up from the floor. He looked around the room, bewilderment on his face for a moment before he focused on the stairs. He carried her up into her room, not showing any signs of straining despite his spindly frame, and set her down on the bed. Ulpo paused and made an expression between content and indifferent before he turned his back to her without a single word.

Ysadette propped herself up on her elbows. "Are you not going to answer me?"

Ulpo put his hand on the door-frame and bowed his head. His fingernails scraped against the cheap wood, peeling back specks of paint. He drew in a long breath, shuddered, then exhaled long after she was sure he'd emptied his lungs. "A fool," he muttered and rushed down the steps into the next room.

Cursing her infuriating curiosity yet again, Ysa forced herself to follow him.

Ulpo was sitting at the small dining table. His robes were split open at the chest, his hands cupping the gleaming red inside. That bitter-sour taste crept to the back of Ysa's tongue again. She could smell it as well. There was a smoky scent in the air like a pile of charred wood.

Ysa pulled out the chair next to him and sat down.

Ulpo took his hands away from the glow and glanced at her. "Please, don't be afraid," he said, "It won't happen again. It's my fault. I wasn't careful enough."

Without him blocking her view, Ysa was able to see what caused the light. Buried inside of Ulpo's chest was a ruby stone more than twice the size of her own fist.

Beating. Pulsating. A chill ran up her spine.

There wouldn't have been room for a heart to fit because of it. So where was it? A red spark jumped off him and stung Ysadette's finger as she laid her hand on his back. "You aren't in any pain, are you?"

Ulpo lifted his head and looked towards the wall as if it were a more desirable option than seeing her. He tugged at his robes to cover the stone. "Thank you for your concern, but no."

Ysa looked to the light as it neared a point of flickering out. "What is this? Did it cause that…" she paused, lacking the proper word.

He cupped his hands over the stone again. Tiny, rose lines crawled over his skin and went back into his chest. "I wouldn't know where to begin," he said. "I wouldn't know how to explain it in a way you'd understand."

Ysa scooted her chair close. "Try, then. I don't mean to be rude," Ysa paused and shook her head. "No, actually, I do mean to be rude. You owe me an explanation and I want it this instant."

He made a sound that was akin to a chuckle but his scowl was unmoved. "Have it your way, then," he said. "It's something magical."

"Where did it come from?"

Ulpo let out a puff of air and raised his eyebrows. "That's a difficult question to answer. Thoroughly, anyway."

Ysa leaned so that she could see his eye snap to her and away again. "Do you not know or do you simply refuse to tell me?"

Ulpo twisted away from her. "Both."

"How can it be both?" Ysa said. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Andard and I were going to enjoy ourselves until you interrupted us, so I don't think I need to tell you how little interest I have in secrets right now, Mentor."

Ulpo leaned back in his chair and looked towards the ceiling. "It's mine," he said. "I pieced it together across several decades based on the potency of its energies. It's somewhat like an enchanted piece of jewelry to enhance my magicka stores if I had to make an unserviceable comparison."

"Really?" Ysa said. "I've encountered enchantments before, but placing one on your own body? You can do that?"

Ulpo nodded. "In a manner that you'd never imagine possible," he said. "An associate of mine pioneered the process many years ago, but I'd argue that I've perfected it since then. More than that, actually. Even now, after decades of extensive testing, I still feel as if I'm centuries away from finding the upper limitations of its power. For all I know, it may not have any."

"Why, then?" Ysa asked. "Why would you make something like this? Was it for the sake of power?"

Ulpo shook his head, a shade of grimness making him loom. "In a way, yes," he said. "I needed to make a way to do the impossible. To understand what I couldn't understand, to reach beyond the flow of Aetherius, into deeper magic."

Ysadette ran her fingers across her chin. "What is there that's deeper?"

Ulpo pressed his hands together and squeezed his eyes shut. "Tell me, have you ever wondered what makes the world move? What makes the seasons change? What causes the ocean to push and pull or the clouds to race from one end of the sky to the other?"

Ysa nodded. "Natural forces. In your last two examples, Masser and Secunda, and the direction of the winds, respectively."

"True," Ulpo said, "But there's so much more to it than that. There is…" he put a finger on his lips and paused. "There's something I spent most of my life completely ignorant of. A kind of magic that upended my whole life's work when I began to study it."

"And this stone of yours," she pointed at his chest, "Allows you to control that magic?"

Ulpo mustered a look of surprise. "No, unfortunately. However, if I were paired with the proper catalyst, the difference between the two would be negligible."

"Then we can talk to other local mages," Ysa said. "Perhaps one of them can help you find the catalyst you need. We can work this out together."

Ulpo began to laugh but shuddered, rendering his attempt a strange snort. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, but they'd have nothing of the sort," he said. "Even if by chance they did, to be in so close to uncontrolled power would be a nightmarish scenario you'd do well to not think about. You saw what happened a moment ago. If I lost control of myself for even a fraction of a second, the ramifications are nothing short of…"

Ulpo's eyes widened. He lurched forward as if someone tried to slam his face onto the table. His mouth moved as if he were speaking but Ysadette couldn't hear anything besides the smacking of his lips. His face drained of all color and he drew in a sharp breath like someone taking their last.

Then she realized what was happening.

"Mentor!" she shouted. "Why is it that you aren't mad anymore? What's causing you to act this way?"

An empty-headed smile spread across Ulpo's face and his eyes grew distant. "D'oh! Hello there, girl! How are you? Is it time for your lessons already?" said her true Mentor upon his return, swinging his legs underneath the table like an excited child.

"D'oh, phooey!" Ulpo leaped to his feet and shuffled about the room, pushing around whatever he came to first in a sudden burst of explorative energy. "I've misplaced my fork!"

He cackled and stuck his nose to the bookshelf to stare it down with a frightful seriousness. Ulpo wriggled his hands into the corners until he tugged on a book and threw it to the floor among the others. Hidden behind it was his dear fork which he squeezed against his face. Evidently pleased, he climbed into his bed, curled into a tight ball, and resumed his emphatic, ritualistic snoring.

Ysa remained at the table, motionless.

Even in his clearest of moments, Ulpo had never been like that. Nothing was the same about him. Not even the tone in his voice. She shivered as the droning, apathetic sound replayed itself in her head more than she was able to stomach. Cursed with a moment of abhorrent bravery, she forced herself to look at him.

An innocent smile, the same he always made a point to wear, had won out over the previous frown. Out of all the questions she had about her Mentor, one of his true-self hadn't crossed her mind. Had she been wrong? Did she ever really know the elf named Ulpo?

A figure entered the front door. They pulled her from the chair and into a tight embrace. Ysadette wrapped her arms around them without first taking note of who they were. All she knew was they were soaked head to toe and smelled like salt water.

"Thank the gods, Detta," Andard's voice said. "You aren't hurt, are you?"

Ysa held him at arm's length and took his face in her hands so she could focus properly on it. At least he looked as he always did. She wouldn't take that for granted again. "No. I'm fine."

Andard glanced past her. "And your teacher?"

Ysadette bit her tongue. What was she going to tell him? That Ulpo could have accidentally erased her from existence with little more than a flick of his wrist? That he was right all along and the elf wasn't as he seemed? She was on the edge of spiraling. Ysa pushed him away to gather herself. "We're both unharmed," she said with a heavy sigh. "While I was on the way here, though, I saw some people who may not have been so lucky. The Chapel - they may need healers. I…I should go and help them."

Andard caught her by the hand before she could leave him behind. He gazed into her eyes, meeting the rattled look she gave him with one that begged her to stay. Without faltering, he pulled her back into his arms once more. "Damn my luck," he said. "Go on, then. I know I can't stop you so I won't even try. But, if it isn't too much trouble, would you do me a favor?"

"What is it?" Ysa asked.

Andard rubbed his hands over her back. "Don't overwork yourself."

He pulled away from her, tucked her hair behind her ear and added an unconvincing smile that Ysa could see right through. "While you're off helping the priestesses, I'll go over to my shop and see what I can salvage," Andard said. "After you feel like you've done enough, stop by. I'll be waiting for you. We'll…uh…probably have to sit on the boardwalk, though."

He always knew what to say, even when she didn't, even when it wasn't fair. She wanted him to be angry with her. It would've made sense, but it was as if the thought never crossed his mind. Him and that charming smile of his dropped a weight on her with their oafish conviction – bent on making the guilt sting more than ever.

With hardly a thought as to what to do next, her hands found his jaw and she pushed her lips against his cheek. Ysadette stood on the tips of her toes and persisted until she tasted the salty brine lingering on his skin and dashed into the streets spouting flustered apologies.

Go back, you idiot! Go back!

Ysa couldn't stop herself from running faster.

Go back!

Andard had his own, deeply secretive magic, it seemed. It was the kind that turned her brain to mush.

Go back!

.~~~.

A metal hand settled on her shoulder and gently shook her. "Ysa," whispered a voice. "It's done. You can stop now."

She opened her eyes to Isro squatting in front of her. With his perpetually furrowed brow, softening just a bit when she focused on him, he stepped back from her. Ysa carefully stood up as she felt her blood rushing back towards her head and making her dizzy. Nausea washed over her and her skin turned clammy. Necromancy was always capable of doing that. "Did you get what you needed?" she asked.

Isro nodded.

"I remember it now," Glodon said. He stood up from the boulder he was perched on and leaped down to the ground. "There's a field to the North of here that Celdan and I would go hunting in before the sun would come up. Teeming with deer, it is! We'll go there and then follow the stone path until we find two boulders that look like an ass. That was where we met the witch."

"Delightful," Ysa said. "Shall we be on our way?" She put her hand against her forehead as she tried to estimate how much magicka she had left. Not enough should things turn sour. I'll need to be careful going forward.

Glodon ran his hand over his head. "We should, yes, but before we do that, I er…"

Ysa stopped and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Thaum left last night to find help and he hasn't come back yet," Glodon said. "He was supposed to be back by midday, but…"

Ysa groaned. "We don't have time to dawdle," she said. "Where did he go? Perhaps we can find him along the way."

"See, there's a problem," Glodon said with a wince. "Since we're all known criminals and have bounties on our heads, we can't exactly go into town without the guards hauling us off to the dungeon."

"Damn right," Isro said, crossing his arms and looking deadly serious at Glodon.

"So, since we couldn't visit the Chapel or go to the apothecary, he, uh…" Glodon pursed his lips. "We didn't see any other options. Thaum went to join that group in Fort Rayles. The, uh, big one."

"Why would he go there?" Isro growled. "Gave up on the lot of you? Wanted to save himself?"

"He'd never abandon us!" Glodon snapped. "And I may be diseased, but say one more thing about him and I'll show you what…"

"Enough!" Ysa said. "Why did Thaum try to join them?"

Glodon's fizzling glare remained locked on Isro. "He hoped to strike a deal with them with them," he said. "He figured he could convince them to help us find the witch and kill her if we merged our small group with theirs."

"But if you made contact with them, that'd mean…" Ysa began.

Glodon nodded and whistled through his tooth. "They'd get cursed as well," he said. "They'd have no choice but to help us if they wanted to live. We planned on running a few jobs to bring in enough coin to make ourselves look useful after we killed the witch. And once we got a chance," Glodon licked his lips. "We'd make off with all of that loot."

"Really?" Ysa asked. "You'd willingly deliver a plague to them and use it to hold their lives ransom? That's awful."

Glodon shook his head. "I know, but what choice did we have?"

Ysa put her hand on her forehead and sighed. Working alongside someone who'd stolen from her already required more rationalization than she was comfortable with. Saving another who'd sicken others for his own gain? That was too much to bear. "I'm sorry, but I am not interested in finding your missing friend," she said. "We already have more pressing matters to attend to. Thaum got himself into this mess, so he will…"

"I'll go," Isro said. "You said it yourself, Ysa. We don't have time to talk at length about this. So I'll go."

"Wait a moment," Ysa said. She grabbed his arm and tugged at it. "You'll be walking into a bandit camp alone. I won't be able to come to your aid. You are aware of that, aren't you?"

"We were trained to scout for a reason," Isro said, scratching his chin. "I'm not going to fight off the entire gang. I'm just going to see if Thaum truly is there."

"Why are insistent on this?" she asked. "Only a few hours ago you were prepared to put them all on the block. Now you want to track one down and help him? What aren't you telling me?"

Isro's brow furrowed deeply and he leaned down to speak in her ear. "Something about this doesn't bode well," he muttered. "Remember what I told you when you first arrived in Chorrol?"

"That the gang in Fort Rayles has become an issue recently," she said, "What of it?"

"What I didn't say at the time was that Captain Pinard has been checking the wall's integrity," Isro said. "Checks and repairs are mandatory every month, but it's only been two weeks since the last time. Now, he hasn't repaired anything yet, but he's got to have a reason for checking off-schedule."

"Perhaps he's only being cautious?" Ysa said.

Isro frowned. "Could be," he said. "Or maybe he's anticipating something. Captain Pinard has a long history in Chorrol. His intuition has saved the city more than once and I've had an awful feeling in my gut about the Rayles gang that won't go away."

Ysa glanced to the side and tilted her head at Glodon.

"Thinking the same thing, huh?" Isro whispered. "Chances are he's keeping something from us. Why did Thaum go from wanting to sell your necklace for potion money to joining another gang in one day? Why not try sneaking into town? Why the sudden change of plans before the first option was exhausted? And even if killing the witch lifted the curse, what's to stop the Rayles group from killing them as well? Why would they allow them to join after threatening them?"

Ysa looked over her shoulder. "Maybe they didn't think this through," she whispered. "Bandits aren't known for their keen intellect."

"Maybe," Isro said, "But wouldn't it make sense if this merge was planned? Before the curse became an issue?"

Ysadette tucked her hand underneath her chin. "You have a point," she said. "I don't know if there's anything to it, but it does sound a bit suspicious. No matter what it is, please be careful."

Isro's frown broke into a minimal smile. "Same to you," he said. "I know I don't have to tell you this, but keep a spell ready in case you need it. There are too many unanswered questions and I don't like it."

After Glodon had given him a brief description of Thaum, Isro nodded sternly at Ysa and marched off into the woods.

Glodon smacked his palms together as he approached from behind. "So what do you say? Should we get going?"

Maybe Glodon was cleverer than she was giving him credit for. Until she had proof, though, she'd have to carry on as if her suspicions didn't exist. "Yes," she said, "Quickly now." Ysa tugged at her cloak until it was tight around her shoulders as Glodon took the lead, occasionally peeking back at her.

Let's hope you're simply as paranoid as I am, Isro. For our sakes.