The door to Opeli's study burst open and a young page stumbled in, breathing hard. The High Cleric glanced up from the stack of parchments she had been studying, and narrowed her eyes in irritation.

"A page who doesn't mind her courtesies is a fine thing!" she said. "Don't you know to knock before disturbing a High Council member?"

"Lady Opeli," the page puffed, "Sir Corvus said you're to come at once, my lady. To the dungeons! He says it's a matter of great urgency!"

Opeli rose to her feet instantly, pushing back her chair. "What is it? What's happened?"

"There's something wrong with one of the prisoners!"

"Who?" Even as the word left her mouth, Opeli knew.

"Lord Saleer."

The heavy hem of Opeli's robe flapped and twined about her legs as she raced the corridors. Given how much time she spent sprinting from one crisis to the next these days, perhaps the vestments of the High Cleric needed an overhaul. Something with leather breeches, perhaps, and a chainmail weave. A couple of daggers wouldn't go amiss, either, given the life expectancy of the king's inner circle.

She had always taken an active role in state affairs - King Harrow had appreciated her input, and he had certainly needed a strong voice on council to counter the venom Viren had poured into his ear - but in these days of the Boy King, even she felt overstretched. She had almost forgotten what it was to rest. Elven assassins, dragons, dark magic, and now something about a fallen star, an omen which frightened even a Dragon Queen… it made her nostalgic for the days of mere famine, when the blackest sorcery Viren had practiced had ripened the fields and quickened the harvest.

Corvus was waiting for her beside the prisoner's cell, a torch casting a harsh glow across his face. She joined him, then peered through the cell bars, into the gloom beyond.

Saleer rested on his cot against the far wall, his back turned to his captors. His breathing was normal. Nothing on his person betrayed a disturbance. His usually tidy chamber, however, was in complete disarray, as though a platoon of soldiers had ransacked it. Candlesticks, torn parchment and smashed ink pots were strewn all over the floor. A wooden chair lay on its side, and the writing desk had been upended.

Two years ago, when the followers of Viren had been transported to Katolis to face justice, Saleer had been spared execution. The king had confined him to a comfortable cell, and granted all his requests for books, writing materials, and devotional objects. Despite the clemency shown him, Saleer remained quietly defiant. He had spent the intervening two years refusing to renounce Viren, or to show remorse for his treachery.

On most days he was lucid, and spoke to Opeli in a pleasant manner, as though nothing had changed between them. They might have been discussing taxation on a slow morning at council. Yet there was something chilling about him which Opeli could not put her finger on. Every so often, she felt as though a mask slipped, and an alien entity watched her from behind Saleer's eyes, staring out from the soul of someone she'd once known so well.

Could I really have misread this man all these years? she wondered. Is it possible for someone to be as familiar to you as a brother, and yet an utter stranger?

Something clinked against Opeli's boot. She glanced down, then bent to retrieve a small object from the ground. It was an engraved bead of jacinth, glowing with crimson fire in the torchlight, like a crystallised drop of blood.

"What is it?" Corvus demanded, bringing the torch closer, squinting at the orb in Opeli's fingers. "Dark magic? A cursed talisman?"

"No," said Opeli, surprising herself with the sudden feeling in her voice. "No, there is no witchcraft here. This was… a charm of a different kind."

She knew this stone well. She had chosen it for Saleer herself, fourteen winters ago. It had been a gift to mark his ordination as a holy brother of the royal sanctum. On that day, she had presented him with this string of prayer beads, eighty four in all, to mark the eighty four nights that Arsha the Wayfarer had sojourned in the desert.

Haligware Arsha had been Saleer's patroness. She was greatly revered in Neolandia, where Saleer had spent his early boyhood. He had brought an icon of Arsha with him to the cloister in Katolis, when he had arrived, a bright-eyed and sweet-faced youth, all those years ago.

The Gilded Tome spoke of how Arsha's people had suffered during the Mage Wars. After Humanity's expulsion from Xadia, the human race's sorrows had only multiplied. Man's nature had been so corrupt that he could not restrain himself from harming his own kind. Even knowing that all the forces of Archdragon and Elvenking were arrayed against them, Humanity went to war with themselves. Like savage dogs, they turned upon each other, fighting over the few scraps of land the dragons and elves had left them. Archmage contended with Archmage, weakening the already shattered tribes of Man, and dispersing them even further.

When Archmage Jaskar won control of the ancient city of Raegium, he drove two thirds of her populace outside the walls, abandoning them to the elements. Those who did not die of starvation, exposure, or sickness, became easy prey for wild beasts and elves.

It was then that Arsha, a girl of barely sixteen winters, had led her people away from the city, and into the blazing deserts of Neolandia. She spoke of dreams and visions, and promised a new home for the cast-out remnants of Mankind, far beyond the reach of Archmage and Elflord. Many scorned her, thinking she would only lead them into the jaws of death. But those who heard her words, and believed, took up their burdens, and followed her into the burning wastes.

Somehow, she had guided her people through every danger. No monster of the desert caught their scent. No dragon's wings darkened the skies above them. The swiftest elven hunter never found their trail, nor did the desert Sun smite them. Arsha found fresh streams and sunken milk-roots in the barren dunes, and brought her followers to green meadows in the wastes. Arsha the Wayfarer, her people named her, or the Navigator. Arsha the Stargazer, the Skywatcher.

"Children of Men," she had said unto them, "you remember the glory that was Elarion, queen among the cities. How proud were her spires, and how arrogant her people. The wrath of the Highfather was kindled against her indolence, and her children were banished to the West.

"Where are Elarion's walled gardens and her perfumed orchards? Where are her jewelled pathways, where her young men and her maidens sang and plucked the lyre? Only Dragons dance there now, in the ashes of a million Men, and the Elves make merry upon her grave."

Hallowed Arsha had never led one of her followers astray. Until Saleer.

"High Cleric?"

Opeli snapped back to the present. Corvus was frowning at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded, then managed a smile. "I am. It's just… I'd known Saleer for almost all my life. At least I thought I did."

"I understand. It can't have been easy."

"Viren, too. In his case, it was obvious that he was untrustworthy from the start. Although… the evil in him did grow stronger over time. You may find this hard to believe, but he had noble qualities in him once. They were eclipsed so slowly by the darkness that I almost didn't notice. Some High Cleric I turned out to be. Responsible for the spiritual wellbeing of all the kingdom, and I allowed evil to breed within my own king's council, under my very nose… "

"Opeli, after Queen Sarai's death, you probably did more than anyone to check Viren. Even General Amaya spoke highly of you, and getting praise out of her is like getting sense out of Soren. Was there more you could have done? There was more that each one of us could have done. You aren't alone in bearing this guilt. I often worry about the general, and all the blame she takes upon herself… I wish I had something useful to offer you, but I lack your wisdom. Only… I shouldn't have to remind a holy mother of the virtue of forgiveness."

This time Opeli's smile required no effort. "You are a kind and true friend," she said. "And you are wise, though it is not a wisdom out of books. You can read the breeze, the trodden path, the bent leaf. And even if you were not wise, kindness is rarer than wisdom, and maybe more precious. I knew Viren when he was married. He was a better man when he loved something other than the pursuit of knowledge. Did Lissa make him a better mage? Perhaps not. But certainly a better man."

She looked at the sleeping figure of Saleer once more. The former Elder Cleric stirred, murmuring in his sleep.

Saleer had kept her gift to him. If it was in this cell, he must have requested it specifically. A string of beads, a frail thing she had given him all those seasons ago, back when they had still been brother and sister in holy orders. Back when they had been young and full of hope, believing they could fulfil the will of Providence by entering the secular world, and guiding the kingdom's affairs. Back before their drifting apart, before court intrigues and political machinations had pulled them in different directions.

What did this mean? Did he still pray? And if so, what did he pray for, and to which Power were his thoughts addressed? He had followed Viren even after the man had become a vessel for necromancy. He had watched the former High Mage turn his human followers into abominations, creatures of flame and flesh. There was nothing in the Sacred Scrolls about permitting mages to remake the design of the Creator, melding the human form with fire and shadow to make it into a monster, a living weapon.

Opeli cleared her throat. "What happened to him, exactly? The page said there was something wrong with him."

"We're not entirely sure," Corvus replied. "Most of the castle's staff were assigned elsewhere for the reception of the Dragon Queen. One of the few guards on patrol heard a commotion coming from Saleer's cell, and came to check on the prisoner. It seems that Saleer was having an episode of lunacy. He was raving, throwing himself at the bars, clawing at the walls, and begging to be let out. He was flinging his belongings around like a madman, which I found extremely strange. You know how much Saleer values his possessions, especially books and parchment.

"By the time the guard got hold of me and brought me here, Saleer had fallen asleep, after tiring himself out. He's barely stirred since then."

"This is most peculiar," said Opeli. "Saleer has never renounced his treachery, but his behaviour and speech have always been measured and even. He has never shown any inclination towards aggression. In all the years I have known him, I have never witnessed an outburst of passion. And this… fit of madness… happens on the night the Dragon Queen comes to Katolis? This is no coincidence."

"I agree," said Corvus. "But I don't know what it means. I was hoping you might have more insight."

"When he was begging to be let out, what… words did he use, exactly?"

"Here. I made some notes while speaking to the guardsman." Corvus passed a slip of parchment to her, and she scanned it quickly.

Opeli said, "What did you make of this? 'Take me with you. Take me with you. I can't hear. I can't hear!' What do you suppose this means?"

Corvus looked blank. "Who can fathom the mind of a madman, Councillor?"

"I fear this is no madness," Opeli said, "or at least, no natural kind. "'Take me with you.' When exactly did the guard notice the disturbance from the cell?"

"Shortly after the Dragon Queen flew off with the king. I thought that was significant, too. But why would Saleer want to accompany King Ezran or the Dragon Queen? He's shown no interest in either of them before now. And he had plenty of opportunity to speak to the king had he wished."

A dark suspicion was blooming in Opeli's mind. Disjointed fears which had floated in the undertow of her thoughts for some time were coming together.

"The guard said shortly after the Dragon Queen flew away. Did anything else notable happen at that time?"

Corvus said, "Well, yes, the guardsman remembers a red dragon flying over the castle and landing in the courtyard. That's not something you see around here every day. It must have been Pyrrah, carrying Soren and Callum. She was here for hardly any time, though. Callum and Soren made a quick stop for supplies, then flew away on her back."

"Did anyone see what supplies they took?"

Corvus scratched his chin. "Well, earlier tonight, a sentry told me that he'd seen Crownguard Soren hefting a large object, and the Archmage Callum, in the air above him, much to Callum's protest, before they flew away."

"What object?"

"He just said it was a large object, like a case or a box. It was covered."

"Where were they coming from?"

"The dungeons? Or… the High Mage's quarters." Corvus' eyes widened.

"I fear," said Opeli, "that this is all connected. Callum brought something with him out of the Archmage's quarters. Something that, according to Saleer's words, was speaking to him. Something that he could no longer hear, which distressed him enough to drive him to madness. Callum is the only human Primal Mage in memory, and the only person we have remaining in the kingdom with any expertise on magic. It was his duty to dispose of Viren's possessions. It seems he did not dispose of all of them."

"Then what are you saying?"

"I'm saying-"

Footsteps clattered on the flagstones, and a guardsman appeared in the doorway. "Sir Corvus," he said, "we need you in the courtyard! A party of Elves is seeking an audience with the king. People are gathering in the streets. They're becoming agitated. These are Moonshadow Elves, Sir… the last time they were in Katolis… "

"Understood," said Corvus. He glanced at Opeli. "I can oversee the guards. But we need you to receive the Elves. I learnt a lot from Amaya, but hosting foreign dignitaries wasn't part of our training."

"Of course," said Opeli. "You go on ahead. See to the unrest. I shall be with you shortly."

Corvus followed the guardsman down the corridor, the sound of his rapid-fire questions fading as their footsteps receded into the distance.

Opeli stood alone in the dungeon, surrounded by flickering half-light and shadow. She watched the still form of Saleer, once her friend, stirring in his bed, poised between darkness and light. Suddenly, she clenched her fist around the jacinth bead in her hand and brought it to her chest. Then she bowed her head.

"Hallowed Arsha the Wayfarer," she said aloud, "he is beyond my help now. You brought him this far. Guide the wanderer back to the straight path. Let him not be fooled by the mirage, nor ensnared by the quicksand. Let him not be led astray by false promises, whispered by spirits on the desert wind. Lead him through the wilderness. Lead us all in the times to come."

She slipped the bead into her robe, and walked away.