Actually, you are a criminal.

Lamb halted. What?

Considering you threw a Warden off a bridge... and you're assisting a known fugitive... I'm pretty sure, last time I checked, that that would make you a criminal.

Yeah, but... he doesn't have to treat me like one.

Even if you are one?

Okay, maybe I am a criminal- but I didn't do anything wrong; did I?

The very fact that you're asking me that means you don't find yourself wholly innocent.

Lamb sighed, sitting down on a tree stump. Fine. What are you trying to say?

That if that man treated you harshly in any way, it was hardly unprovoked. You're a volatile and violent fugitive, and nobody can offer any explanation for who or what you are. That makes you mysterious, which in turn makes you dangerous.

Then why rescue me?

Because you humans have a peculiar habit of instinctively running to the aid of those in trouble.

You aren't human?

I'm a voice in your head.

The boy paused, considering and resting his chin on his good hand. I'm not going to apologise. It's his own fault for speaking to me like that.

Are you sure you didn't goad him into it by being unhelpful?

I'm not apologising.

Even if it was your own fault?

Nope.

You know Elizabeth is with them? If you leave now, you'll never seduce her.

But I'd get her to come with me.

Right. So you think she'd choose to run away with you rather than stay in a place with a warm bed, good food, and non-psychotic companions?

Did you just call me a psycho?

Do you remember when you were unconscious, and I kept talking to you to explain your situation? Lamb said nothing, crossing his arms and setting his jaw. Imagine that, but worse.

The boy groaned, scowling and lifting himself heavily to his feet. Fine. But one of these days I'm going to kill myself, just for the satisfaction of taking you with me.

Stifled laughter met his empty threat.


Lamb walked through the damaged door, trying to close it and failing. He picked up his chair, setting it down and seating himself, painfully aware of the dead silence of the room. He fixed his eyes on the table, mumbling something under his breath.

Liz looked over at him. "What?"

"Mm sry." His voice carried about an inch before tailing off into inaudibility.

Liz sat back, the slightest hint of a smirk hovering at the edges of her mouth. "Sorry; I still can't hear you."

Lamb froze for a second. Then he fought down his resentment and his trepidation, hiding them behind a mask of defiance as he lifted his head, locking challenging eyes with the man in front of him. "I'm sorry. Shouldn'tve snapped at you. Or broken your door. So," he struggled through, forcing the words through gritted teeth, "sorry 'bout that. But I mean, you were bein' kinda unfriendly. You kept askin' all kindsa questions, like I was some kinda criminal. And treatin' me like I was gonna kill you in the night or somethin'. But I mean, I'm sorry. Even if I wasn't wrong. Or somethin'. Sorry."

There was another moment of silence as he waited for the response. After what seemed like a lifetime Liz began clapping, slowly and patronisingly. "Wow. I'm... speechless, actually. Who would have known you had it in you to make such a sincere apology? Considering what an egotist you are."

Lamb's eyes narrowed. "You say something?"

"Thank you for that," Quint broke in before the two could devolve into another of their petty arguments, "Lamb. And I think I owe you an apology as well. It appears I was untactful in my questioning. I should have seen that you were getting worked up about it- you genuinely don't understand how you can do what you can do?"

Lamb shrugged. "Not a clue."

"I see. I understand now why that might be a sensitive subject."

"I wouldn't really say that..." Lamb trailed off. Am I sensitive? I'd hate to be sensitive. It would make me some kind of wimp.

Why ask me? Who am I, your mother?

Forget it. I was stupid to expect a helpful response from you.

"Either way," the man went on, "I'm glad we were able to see eye to eye. The last thing I would want is to make an enemy of the boy I just rescued."

"Yeah," Lamb agreed, "that's a point. You know why I was there; but why were you walkin' round in the middle of the woods?"

"Actually, I'd been planning on visiting your city. I wanted to see if I could find anything interesting for the library."

"Thought it was her," Lamb nodded towards Max, "that ran that?"

"It's a bit of a joint venture. Max takes care of it while I'm away. But I'm glad you know about it."

"Liz said sayin' something 'bout it earlier."

"Yes," Liz said, "we were having a conversation about it earlier. It came up after he so generously complimented me on my dress."

Lamb shrugged. "I said was it matched her face."

Quint sat back, only half-understanding the meaning beneath the coded exchange as Liz continued on. "Speaking of criminals, I hope you realise that technically you are one?"

"Heh. That's exactly what-" He ground to a sudden halt, realising that he probably shouldn't admit to having a voice in his head, not unless he wanted to be branded as crazy.

"Exactly what?" Liz queried.

"Exactly what I was thinkin'," he finished lamely.

"Really? Because it didn't sound like-"

"Oh look," he cut her off as Max approached at an extremely convenient moment, setting down four steaming bowls of soup, "food. Lemme eat. I'm hungry."

With reluctance, Liz allowed the matter to drop, and the four of them set about finishing off the meal. Lamb, to his surprise, found himself going back for not only a second but a third helping too. It was probably the best thing he'd ever tasted, considering that in the past the cooking had only been done by him, Jence, or one of Jence's mistresses. Eating something made by somebody who actually knew what they were doing was a new experience in itself, and all of a sudden he began to understand Liz's complaints about his own.

"Pretty good at this," he nodded in appreciation.

"Thanks," Max replied timidly, lowering her eyes, "but... um... I'm kind of cheating?"

"Cheatin' how?"

"Well..."

"Sensory Uptake," Quint finished for her and all heads craned his way, "that's Max's power- a perfect memory which will never forget a thing she sees, hears, or reads." He turned to her. "When you say you're cheating...?

"I'm just, uh, repeating things. I mean, there's not much skill in accidentally getting something right once, then just repeating that accident."

"I dunno," Lamb countered, "you've still gotta get it right the first time. Reckon that takes skill."

Max smiled slightly. "I'm not sure, but... thank you."

Lamb shrugged again. "It's good. But," he turned to face Liz again, "said you didn't tell me why you was runnin'. Seein' as how I just about died 'cos of you, ain't it about time you told me the truth?"

Liz's face fell, humour replaced by remorse. "I know. I'm sorry. I should have told you the truth from the beginning, but-"

"Next time you say those words I'm gonna sew your mouth shut."

Liz stopped. "Huh? What do you- oh, right, yes. Sorry a-"

"You really that stupid? 'Cos I-"

"Please, you two," Quint interjected, "no more arguing in my house."

Lamb scowled but said nothing. Liz paused for a second before continuing. "I didn't want to tell you because I wasn't sure how you'd react. I wasn't honestly sure how anybody would react. I mean, I haven't told anybody yet because-"

Lamb sighed. "D'you plan on tellin' me? Or just puttin' it off all day?"

Liz shook her head. "You're right. I'm getting off topic." She cleared her throat.

"I come from a family of servants. At the age of sixteen we're placed into the house of a minor aristocrat, from which point we live our lives taking care of their needs. It's not necessarily an easy life, but it's not a bad one either. Most of the time the houses we're placed into are just enough, and it's rare to end up in a bad one.

"Unfortunately, I was one of the unlucky few. The master of my house was a cruel man, and spiteful. Often he'd hit us, or beat us, which while unpleasant was bearable; but he was also a drunk. One night he came home, and he struck me with his ring on." Her face twisted slightly in remembered hate. "He tore most of my cheek open. Another servant had to sew it shut for me. By the next morning it was much better, and the master decided he must have imagined the severity. But then the day after it was practically gone.

"He called me a witch," she went on, only the slightest hint of brittleness betraying her emotion, "and he blamed all his misfortunes on me. Suddenly it was my fault he was a joke, my fault he'd squandered all his family's fortunes, my fault nobody wished to associate with him. He grew paranoid that I was scheming behind his back, and he beat me more and more often; but every time the injuries healed, he'd only become more and more hysterical.

"In the end he sent word to the Wardens. Wanting to investigate my abilities, they came and took me away to their citadel. To start with they were friendly enough. They treated me like a princess, gave me my own room and wardrobe, let me eat whatever I wanted; but they always kept asking the same questions- questions I didn't know the answers to. How did I heal myself? And, more importantly, could I heal others in the same way?"

The girl sighed. "I think that in the beginning, they really did want to be fair. But when weeks went by and they made no progress at all, I guess they just got impatient. If I could somehow be used as a weapon, to heal their own soldiers, I would've given them an enormous advantage. When I failed to answer their questions they stopped being gentle. They took away my privileges and locked me in a cell, accused me of treason and refusal to cooperate. They told me that as soon as I answered their questions, they'd let me go back to how I was before. But," she shook her head, "of course I couldn't answer them. How was I supposed to give an answer I didn't even know?

"After that, things only got worse. They started to threaten me, then they started to hit me, and eventually they turned to whips and knives. It was early winter when they put me there, so I suppose I must have been there a few months before escaping. They just refused to believe that I didn't know.

"After a while they probably realised that I didn't know anything, but they didn't stop in any way. The Wardens they gave me to changed over time, to ones who cared more about the process than the result. The higher ups might even have forgotten I existed, for all I know.

"While I was down there, I heard scraps of what was going on outside. The Wardens were in turmoil about something, something to do with the 'second half'." Quint shifted uncomfortably, eyes widening slightly, but he nodded at her to continue. "Apparently they were hunting the four, and running out of time. I didn't understand what that meant back then, but," she paused, looking at Lamb, "I explained to you about the Warden who helped me escape?" The boy nodded.

"When he set me free, it wasn't just out of mercy. It was because he had a task for me. You're all aware of the Prophecy of the Four?" The others affirmed. "Well, it turns out there's a second part."

"Indeed," Quint agreed.

Lamb nodded. "Yup."

The room went silent. Conversation ground to a halt. Liz sat back, stunned. "You... you knew about that?"

"I am a keeper of knowledge," Quint said, "There's very little that I'm not aware of."

"But," Liz turned to Lamb, "what about you? How could somebody like you know about that?"

"I..." Lamb scratched his head, searching for a believable excuse, "heard someone talkin' 'bout it at the Boar's Head?"

Quint glared suspiciously at him. "You're telling me one of your patrons just happened to mention a national secret to you?"

Lamb cocked his head. "D'you believe me if I said yes?"

The man turned away. "I find it somehow doubtful. But regardless, Elizabeth, continue."

The girl nodded. "I didn't really expect you to know about it. I thought I'd have to explain the whole end-of-the-world thing."

"End of a world," Max broke in quietly. "Not the. A."

"Yes, that. Anyway, the Warden told me that the time of the apocalypse was dawning, and that soon the final confrontation will come to pass. He said that the Wardens were trying to collect the Four Elements- that they believed if the Elements didn't fight the demons, the prophecy wouldn't come to pass and the world wouldn't end. He told me that he disagreed with them, but that because of his position he had no way of resisting. He didn't just set me free; he sent me off with a mission. My role is to unite the Four Elements once more."

"An' that's why you didn't tell me," Lamb muttered, "'cos you thought you'd scare me if you said you were on a quest to save the world?"

"Well," Liz thought about it, "yes. I didn't know how you'd react. For all I knew you'd just turn me back over to the authorities."

"So," Quint frowned, "you were sent by a rebellious faction on a quest to save the world, whilst the Wardens unwittingly doom it through their own obstinacy?"

"You don't believe me?"

The man snorted. "Hardly. It sounds like exactly the kind of thing those pig-headed idiots would do. I'm just considering the coincidence. I think we just might be fated."

"Fated?"

"On a journey to escape the Wardens and reunite the Four, you run into what might be the three people in all the realms best positioned to help you. Lamb and I with our strength and connections, Max with her knowledge- I refuse to believe this is mere serendipity. You do, I assume, intend to continue with your quest?"

"Of course. Shutting myself away now would be no different from destroying the world myself."

"In that case I might make a suggestion. Max and I can see what we can do, but in the mean time..."

Three pairs of eyes turned to face Lamb, and he found the colour draining from his face. "In the mean time?"

"In the mean time, I see a strong young boy with a lot of time on his hands, and nothing to do with it."

"Hold on a minute," Lamb waved the suggestion away, "I'm only here-"

"Why don't the two of you go save the world together?"