A breath ran as cold as ice down Maerad's bare shoulders; a chill wind that spread tendrils into her very soul and turned her thoughts to snow and frost. Her whole body shook in anticipation; Arkan.

He whirled past her at dizzying speed so that she could not follow his gaze, nor meet it. Yet she wanted him, because Cadvan had gone. And the strange thing was, Maerad did not care, she was Arkan's now, not Cadvan's, and she basked in it and her chill was gone.

Maerad awoke, her body shuddering and convulsing. Or did she. The last thing that she remembered was the Weywood. And Ardina. The world seemed to float around her, and Maerad had no awareness of who she was, or where. She was alone, and the entire world was an empty field through which she must tread, and with care.

Her was there, lurking just beyond her reach, a shadow of the past and present all at once.

"Don't leave me, Cadvan," she screamed into the darkness, "Come to me." And then it stirred, a light in the distance. But then it was gone.

* *

Something stirred in Maerad's mind, a memory of something, of someone. In the distance she could hear a crowd of people, talking and bustling like the markets that Hem had described of Turbansk. She yawned loudly, and the crowd was silent. Odd, she thought.

"Maerad?" The voice was near by, concerned, why would they be concerned, she was all right, wasn't she? "Maerad, wake up," the voice was desperate now, but Maerad was comfortable. No. She did not want to move. "Maerad, please, can you hear me? Please, Maerad," it was a woman's voice, the woman sounded familiar…

"Silvia," Maerad exclaimed, sitting up abruptly and opening her eyes. She immediately wished that she hadn't, for nausea swelled up inside her as the blistering light shone into her eyes. She was violently sick over herself and uncontrollable emotion ran through her like a wave. Tears burst down her cheeks as Silvia fussed over her,

"Hush now," she cooed, swooping over Maerad and rubbing her down like mother with her child, "You'll be alright," and she pushed Maerad down onto the bed. Maerad groaned; she was so tired.

"Where am I?" she croaked, why was her throat so dry?

"In Innail, in your room," Silvia replied, concerned, "you've been out cold for over a week, we weren't sure what was wrong. Not even Hem could get through to you. We were all so worried," she conceded, her blurred head in her hands. Maerad blinked and her face came into focus. Silvia was crying silently.

"Is there any news?" Maerad asked thirstily, her voice croaking heavily under the effort, "Of Cadvan, I mean."

"Oh darling, I told you, he's dead," Silvia said softly, sitting down at the edge of Maerad's bed and softly stroking her hair off her face.

"But did they…"

"They never found his body," Silvia said, a fresh wave of emotion blowing over her features, "he was the only Bard unaccounted for, Enkir is defeated, the Dark is gone, but everything has come at such a terrible price, for you especially."

"He's not dead," Maerad whispered, rubbing her tears from her face, "if you never found his body then how can you even be certain that he was injured?"

"Maerad, why would he run?" said Silvia, almost begging her charge to believe her words as true.

"When I was out cold, I dreamt that I ran from here. I ran all of the way to the Weywood. I was a wolf, for the first time since I defeated Sharma, I was a wolf. And it was so real. I took my flute, and I played it. And Ardina came, and I spoke to her. Cadvan's not dead, Silvia. But he ventures near to the gates. Though whether out of choice, or fate, I know not." Maerad finished, begging Silvia with her eyes and tone to believe her. She was speechless, for a long time Silvia sat still as a ghost and then her lips quivered,

"Oh, Maerad, it was…"

"It was real Silvia, I know it, it was as real as you or I," in earnest Maerad pleaded, "the rest of the time, I was in a wonderland of voices, past and present. I have never been so sure Silvia. Cadvan is alive."

Silvia sat quietly at the end of the bed, watching her long sleeping charge. Maerad had drifted off in an imperceptive manner over the last hour having taken broth and water. At last, Silvia could ponder upon what Maerad had said. If it was true, then Saliman had lied to her. But what means did he serve? Hem to, thought that Cadvan was dead. Her head was spinning, she had to find her husband, and quickly to.

She sped down the corridors, but deserted as they were, Silvia could not shake off the uneasy feeling that grew inside her through every step. Left, right, left, the usually effortless journey seemed endless. Bile seemed to build up at every turn, distress rose in Silvia like a downing man. And then, everything exploded.