Sixth day after Sun's Height, year 30016 DC

Ensa laid down the quill, flexing her stubby fingers to ease the strain of a delicate task they weren't well suited to carry out, and looked out of the window. She shook out her broad shoulders, surprised at how stiff she was. Perhaps she'd been sitting hunched up over her work too long…

From the little guest room she'd been allocated she could see out across the monastery courtyard and the roofs of the other buildings in the complex to the gleaming sea beyond. As she watched, a small boat sailed into that patch of blue. Coming here, perhaps, she thought. Islanders, most like, come to bury their dead.

With that thought, Ensa frowned. That was what she'd originally come to Graveisle to study – the Dead that Walk and the mystery of why. But the records and knowledge stored in the temple of Ebraxos had proved too intriguing…

Maybe it was time she got back to her original project. Ensa pushed aside the notes she'd been making and began leafing through the papers on the desk carefully, trying not to crush the papers with her broad fingers, looking for her original researches.

Behind her she could hear Star rustling round the room, radiating intense curiosity and pleasure. Ensa smiled. She was as happy as the rat. A place full of fascinating information and records, where she and Star were left in peace to work. A place where no one cared about her heritage and she didn't have to keep her intelligence and her interests hidden.

The monastery and temples dedicated to the Lords of Knowledge and the Dead were Ensa's idea of heaven.

She flipped through her notes. Oh, yes… she remembered why she'd abandoned that line of research. She'd needed to go out into the graveyard to investigate further, and there had been no appropriate party for her to join. She'd asked to be kept informed about when she might be able to make the journey, but it wouldn't surprise her if the Abbot had forgotten about her. Certainly neither monks nor priests ever bothered her, or really seemed to notice her existence at all. That was the way Ensa liked it. But she'd have to ask Sabra how often parties went out into the graveyard…

Ensa glanced up again at the window. That little boat was much closer now, definitely heading for Graveisle's diminuative docks…

She climbed to her feet, scooping up her staff from where it lay propped against the wall. 'Come on, Star.' She bent down, extending a hand towards the large brown rat. Star's whiskers twitched and her bright eyes twinkled at Ensa, then she stepped onto the outstretched hand and scurried up Ensa's arm to ensconce herself on her mistress' shoulder, half-hidden under Ensa's stringy brown hair.

Ensa smiled again, then opened the door of the quiet little study and, ducking her head under the crooked lintel, stepped out into the monastery.

A young woman had walked down from the monastery to meet them at the port, catching the ropes thrown by the sailors and making them fast on the bollards of the tiny stone quay.

She waited silently while Tynan paid the captain. The ketch cast off again, her sails close hauled as she tacked upwind on her way back to Goldport, but Emlyn didn't watch her go. His eyes were on the still woman waiting for them.

She was of an average height, with deep brown eyes, and fiery red hair that had been confined in a tight braid and wrapped around her head. Emlyn would usually have associated a flaming temper with hair like that, but this woman radiated stillness and self-control. She was dressed simply, in poor clothes, and her feet were bare on the dusty stone.

'Welcome to Graveisle,' she said, quietly. 'I am Sabra, a monk of the Grey Path.' She bowed to them, and Tynan followed suit.

'I'm Tynan Orn. This is my companion Shadow, and my cousin Emlyn Ulmer.' Tynan waved for Emlyn to come forwards. 'It's really Emlyn we're here for.'

Sabra looked round at Emlyn enquiringly, but her eyes alighted at once on the urn he was carrying. She smiled sympathetically, but her only comment was a practical one. 'You'd better come up to the monastery and speak to the Abbot. I shouldn't think it will be possible to enter the graveyard today.'

As Sabra led the way up the narrow path towards the monastery complex, Emlyn looked around with interest. Graveisle was a rocky island, and the way up from the water's edge was steep and winding. Soon the sea was far below them, breaking against the rocks all around the tiny, sheltered harbour with a white frill of foam.

His muscles protesting the strain of the steep path, Emlyn followed the others up and back onto the flat. Ahead of him Emlyn could see the group of buildings that made up the Monastery of the Grey Path. Beyond them, the cliff rose up again to even greater heights, but Emlyn knew that this flat plateau was their immediate destination. Facing each other across the main courtyard were two lofty stone buildings that matched each other stone for stone – twin temples for twin gods. On Emlyn's right, the temple of Ebraxos had an air of quiet dignity, of musty parchments and ancient knowledge. To the left, the building dedicated to Karaxin exuded an aura of sombre heaviness.

The third building, directly facing then as they entered the courtyard, was the one which Sabra led them towards. It looked as though it had once been a small building which had grown and spread, spawning towers, courtyards and wings as it went, which dwarfed the grey stone core. Emlyn smiled as he stepped across the uneven cobblestones, amused by the sprawling mess of windows and fine slate rooftops everywhere. It was like no other building he'd ever seen.

Tynan, walking beside their guide, had seen buildings in that style before, but never in the Islands. Baking in the scorching sunshine, the Monastery of the Grey Path reminded him of nothing so much as a building from one of Shara's southern cities.

Entering behind Sabra, Emlyn could see that the inside of the building was as much of a shambles as the outside. As she led them down a narrow, twisting corridor and up a stair, he could see other corridors, doors and stairways leading away at seemingly random intervals.

Emlyn could hear a door closing somewhere in the building, and faint and far off he could hear the clacking of wood striking wood in a regimented rhythm, which he knew must represent a combat drill. The deep hush of the monastery, with its faint odour of old parchments and the cool air of its narrow, dark corridors, was stealing over Emlyn. It was as great a contrast to the menacing, shouting crowds of Goldport as could be imagined, and the young fighter felt his tensed muscles beginning to relax. Occasionally they passed priests, garbed in their traditional dark blue or black and silver robes, or simply dressed monks going about their own business. Beyond an occasional curious look or a nod of greeting to Sabra, none seemed concerned with them, and none spoke to them.

So he was taken entirely by surprise when a door opened, revealing a glimpse of a twisting stairway beyond, and the large figure in the doorway said, 'Sabra?'

Emlyn was at the back of the group, but he was easily the tallest person there so he was able to see comfortably over his companions' heads to inspect the new arrival. The woman wasn't as large as she seemed on first impressions – she was a good few inches shorter than Emlyn, but her broad shoulders and thickset figure had deceived his eyes for a second. She was wearing a thick, brown robe, and carried a quarterstaff, but it was her face that Emlyn looked at, his eyes narrowing in unconcious antagonism.

The woman had watery, yellow-brown eyes. The brown hair straggling over her shoulders was thin and stringy. And the grey-green pigment of her skin and her coarse, jutting features betrayed her ancestry even to Emlyn, who had never seen an orc.

'Ensa.' Sabra's greeting, like everything about the monk, was quiet, calm and unruffled.

'I was wondering…' The half-orc's gravelly voice was hesitant. She looked round, including Tynan, Shadow and Emlyn in her speech. 'I'm Ensa Dragontongue. I was wondering if you were going into the graveyard, and if you would object to my accompanying you?'

There was a slight, surprised pause before Tynan answered. 'I imagine we will be going into the graveyard.' He look at Sabra for confirmation and received a slight nod. 'As for your accompanying us…' Tynan looked round at his companions. Shadow shrugged, and Tynan raised his eyes to his cousin's.

Emlyn was gratified. It was clear that Tynan wouldn't allow Ensa to join their group without his support. His first instinct was to deny it – but after all, what harm could it do? He shrugged too.

Tynan smiled, and turned back to the half-orc. 'I see no reason why not.' He paused. 'Forgive my curiosity, but – why do you wish to enter the graveyard?'

'I'm something of a scholar, studying the Dead that Walk,' Ensa explained. Emlyn's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief, and he must have moved or shifted slightly, because Ensa looked round at him and caught the astonished look. Emlyn felt the heat rise to his face, but Ensa was already turning back to Tynan. Emlyn wasn't well versed in half-orc facial expressions, but he thought that she looked hurt. 'According to the records here, there's a ghost of a long dead wizard in the graveyard, who was reputed to be a great expert on the subject,' Ensa continued, as if nothing had happened, 'and Sabra tells me he's quite easy to find and not malevolent. I was hoping to be able to speak with him.'

Tynan turned to Sabra, 'Which puts me in mind of something. Is it dangerous to enter the graveyard? I would've assumed it was fairly safe, but everyone seems so cautious…'

Sabra hesitated. 'It's usually safe enough. But…' She shook her head. 'Come up to see the Abbot. He can explain this much better than me.'

'Lead on,' Tynan gestured forwards, and fell into step behind the monk as she moved off. Shadow and Emlyn followed, and Ensa waited politely until they had all passed before following at the back.

Attempting to atone for his earlier mistake, Emlyn glanced back towards her and asked, 'So who is this wizard you're hoping to speak to?'

Ensa looked a little surprised that he had chosen to address her, but answered readily enough, 'The name was Shadryan Eladrissinel.'

'The Sage of Northisle!' Emlyn stopped, turning round completely in his surprise. 'Really? I had no idea his ghost Walked…'

Then he received another shock. Now he was close to Ensa he could see a brown lump on her shoulder. He blinked, and the object resolved itself into an animal – a rat, with its claws dug into the fabric of Ensa's robes and its beady eyes glinting at him.

'Are you all right?' asked Ensa.

Emlyn shook his head. 'Oh, yes, sorry. I only just noticed…' He pointed at the rat.

Ensa smiled, and reached up to stroke the rat's head with one gentle finger. 'This is Star. My familiar.'

Emlyn blinked again. 'You're a magic user? I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude, but I didn't think…'

'That half-orcs were very interested in magic?' There was an odd note in Ensa'a voice, but Emlyn couldn't work out what it signified. 'Most aren't. I am.' Without giving Emlyn a chance to say anything else, she nodded past him down the corridor. 'Go on. If we get left behind we're bound to get lost.'

'Right, yes,' said Emlyn. He turned and hurried down the corridor to catch up with the rest of the group.

The Abbot was a grave, serious man, who watched them with intelligent eyes while they introduced themselves. He had risen to his feet as Sabra ushered them in to his study, so that he towered over even Emlyn, smoothing down his immaculate black and silver robes, and waited quietly while Tynan briefly outlined their purpose.

The Abbot nodded at Tynan's explanation and smiled sympathetically at Emlyn. 'Certainly it's what we're used to here. However, we're having slight difficulties… at the moment, I wouldn't be available to accompany you.'

'How does this affect us?'

'I hope it doesn't. You should be aware that while the graveyard is relatively safe, we do from time to time get the Dead who Walk. As you may know, I'm gifted by my god with the power to repel them, and as a general rule we don't allow visitors to enter the graveyard without my escort.' He looked round the whole group. 'You look like you can take care of yourselves, and I would have no hesitation about giving you access to the graveyard, but you should be aware that if you do have problems you will have to fight your own way out.'

Tynan regarded the Abbot with sincere respect. He hadn't realised that he was talking to a true cleric. He nodded and looked round. 'Shadow?'

The elf considered the proposition for a while, then nodded. 'Since we probably won't meet trouble, I don't see why not.'

'Emlyn?'

'I've got to.' Instinctively, he brushed his fingers across the smooth, cold surface of the urn. He couldn't think of his mother in there, but he knew what was owed to her remnants.

Tynan nodded. 'And I'm for it. Ensa, are you still coming with us?'

The half-orc nodded. 'I'm no cleric, but I have spells to handle weak undead.'

'Excellent.' Tynan smiled at her, and then turned back to the Abbot. 'I think we're decided. We'll go into the graveyard. But I have to admit, I've not been to Graveisle before, and I'm not perfectly sure what the arrangements are within the graveyard…'

The Abbot smiled understandingly. 'I wouldn't expect you to. I'll assign you a guide, someone who knows the layout.' He turned to Emlyn, and said gently, 'If you'd like your mother's ashes to rest in the temple overnight, I will see to it that the correct ceremonies and prayers are performed.'

'Thank you,' said Emlyn, quietly. In the bustle of Goldport and the constant movement and action since then, the fact of his mother's death had seemed to draw further away, but as the kindly cleric discussed funeral arrangements it was borne in on him with startling intensity that he would never see her again – that she would not be waiting in the doorway when he came in after a long day, or bustling out to feed the chickens while he ate his breakfast. He swallowed down the lump in his throat.

'You won't be able to enter the graveyard before morning,' the Abbot told them. 'Sabra will take you to the guest rooms.'