There were birds in the trees, the sounds of movement in the undergrowth, though Viconia shook her head as to whether the noise of wolfweres approached. We could not hear the sounds of the sea any more, still walking inland. The natural creatures of the forest were deer and bear and hare and ground squirrels in the woods that were hunted, Durlyle had explained, to sustenance by the villagers but to concerns of extinction by the beasts. (Aquerna was not a ground squirrel.) Balduran's ship, I reminded myself; we near it. And one couldn't help but feel a frisson of excitement for that. The wolfweres were large and fast and unbelievably vicious, and I knew my hands were ready to reach the bow when they would come to us.
It was hours later; the air was cool in comparison to the mainland's forests, the sea breezes close. Well past noonday, I judged by the sun. A tangled wilderness to navigate; it would be strange, I thought, to run through this with the strong limbs of a wolf, overcoming every obstacle, in complete freedom by sheer power. Humans were confined by clothes that caught and dragged and itched, by heavy weapons and by prickles of gorse and sharpened leaves scratching into us; the wolfweres ran in simple, brutal ease. Durlyle pointed ahead, directing us northerly.
Viconia sighed, leaning briefly against a tree, her steps grown slow and tired. Imoen drooped a little, and I felt the same; we would be lucky to return to the village before sunset if we turned and departed now, let alone after picking fights.
Durlyle sniffed the air, watching. "In this clearing I...hear nothing about us; it is not so long now. You seem barely to tire but if you would rest, here I would say." He looked enduring enough himself; almost taller than Shar-Teel, and very broad-shouldered, as if he was a warrior himself. But instead of a weapon he carried a wooden staff to lean on, and he was almost unscarred, peaceful.
Shar-Teel looked across at Viconia, who confirmed with a crude nod that her ears heard nothing. "Then a rest," she said; the villagers had provisioned us. We sat, still quietly, in the woods; checking weapons for readiness, in Faldorn's case plying Aquerna with her druidic berries.
Durlyle seemed watchful and nervous, sitting on his haunches as if ready to spring and run at the first noise of a wolfwere. "Are you all right?" I said; I could remember my own first days trying to adventure.
"Forgive," he said quietly, "I have not run this far beyond the wall since I was a pup of ten or eleven winters, nor seen such fight."
"You've helped, like Imoen said," I told him, and Imoen gave a reassuring grin in his direction. "Will you tell us more of your people's history when we return to the village? I want to know more."
He returned her grin with that broad and slow-opening smile. "If there is favour in return, perhaps."
"Another one?" Imoen placed a hand to her forehead in mocking anxiety. "Not another baby, brother, or doll?"
"No; but a cloak," Durlyle said simply. "It draped our village centre; it came from the old ship-home. It is old, as old as we people. It symbols the past we come from, and we use it to move onward. It blew north, and beasts may have it as trophy, for it bore smell of village on it. It is symbol, it not so important as life, but it is ours."
"If we can," I promised. Shar-Teel snorted.
"If they troubled not to rip up some scrap of material," she said.
"No. Joined among the beasts are some who did not wish to belong and left the village," Durlyle said, "they know of symbol to us. You know how important symbols can be?" I agreed; so many wars in history have been fought for claimed reasons as simple as the roles of precedence at a formal dinner, or the failure to refer to a country by its proper name, or imagined blasphemy of some deity. "It would...interest me, to know more of your lives." I thought that he turned back to Imoen and me.
"A nauseating enough conversation that even I would demand we fight these disgusting beasts," Viconia said, bringing herself to her feet. There were a lot of aspects of surface life that Viconia found nauseating; I didn't take it as significant, I thought. Then she gave Durlyle one of those particular glances as she stood, her tunic dislodged around her chest; he averted his eyes.
"You have a splendid companion," he said to Ajantis, joining in the squirrel-petting with Faldorn. "Her coat is so bright, a different kind to those here."
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Aquerna told him, rather flatly; Viconia scowled. We stood to find our way to the wreck.
When the air had started to smell of the ocean once more, Durlyle pointed to the first sight of Wandering Eye. In the distance there was a tall mast overhead, perhaps the last of the four masts, shiplines still clinging to it, perhaps the remains of a flag. Balduran had flown the city's coat of arms with pride on his voyages, field azure with single-masted galleon above a terraced field of sea on a Tethyrian-styled shield. But in such time and conditions it was impossible to expect too much to survive.
"It's magnificent," I said. Imoen stuck out her tongue at me.
"It looks to have been excessive defiling of nature's trees," Faldorn said, tapping a foot in impatience.
"It was ship-home of ancestors," Durlyle said, "but we have peace now where we belong."
We were close; I could have walked for hours after seeing that goal. The way turned downwards, now, the forest sloping on a hill as we walked to where the woods would meet the sand once more. The trees became shorter in height, but were more heavily clustered with vines and moss. Briefly we lost sight of the ship, but it came into view once more as we neared the island's northern harbour. Then Durlyle raised a hand.
"I smell—" he said; and at the same time Viconia spoke:
"Fool surfacers—I hear—"
A swift noise as if of wind. I reacted and ducked down not a second too slowly; and the next moment there was an arrow embedded in a tree, slightly above where my head had been. We separated, Imoen and Viconia diving to the ground, Faldorn beginning to cast, while Ajantis and Shar-Teel and me went for the archers, seeking cover behind the protections of the wilderness—
"Durlyle, stay down!" I called to him, for he seemed confused. He wasn't an adventurer, we needed to protect him— Then he obeyed, staying by Imoen. Another arrow whistled past me.
We didn't have Ajantis' shield any more. Shar-Teel was fastest to move, running, her course set for them. Wolves howled. The archers were in an open space, I saw, putting my back to an ash tree while arrows slammed into its trunk, past a bare grass clearing that gave them a chance to aim at any who came too close. I drew my own bow and aimed; let them flee from that, give Shar-Teel and Ajantis a chance. Imoen cast her missiles, and pink immediately flew across. I heard some howls change to pain, and then Shar-Teel was in the open. I had another arrow to the rough string; looked out from the shelter, and let it fly in the direction I could see humans and wolves on the horizon. Then Ajantis was there, the attackers' bows laid aside but a pack of wolves at Shar-Teel's feet. Faldorn still chanted.
Three humanlike beings, four wolves by their side, one with an arrow through its shoulder. I ran out with the Burning Earth. The humans erupted into the shape of wolfweres, as Kryla had done; two leaped for Shar-Teel, the third for Ajantis. Varscona swept to the thigh of a wolf; it howled and stumbled.
I joined them. I couldn't be as strong as them; but I could be quick to dodge, and Shar-Teel had taught me the vulnerable parts. The wolves snapped like the vampiric wolf and its companions to the east of Beregost temple. I'd learned since then. Slash widely; push them back with the blade's fire. Sweep away in a spin. Wolfwere, too close, claws and teeth and black fur, this time, even faster, I couldn't move in time—
Faldorn's entanglement sprouted from the grass below our feet and tripped the wolfwere. I stabbed forward, but too quickly the claws twisted the Burning Earth aside; I almost fell. A wolf snapped at me. I whirled away and brought the blade down. I saw Shar-Teel, her bloodlust in her face, cut straight through the neck of the wolfwere she fought. Then there was a scream.
I ran back. Ajantis held against the wolves, Shar-Teel duelling the wolfweres. I saw Faldorn down and bleeding, tossed aside like a bundle of rags; Imoen's mirror images fighting the wolves that swarmed her, Faldorn's wolf by her side; Viconia nowhere to be seen. A huge wolfwere, clawing Durlyle, hurting him—on purpose, it had to be, claw-slashes that weren't killing him for all Durlyle wasn't fighting properly, hung broken across a tree. Arrows can be faster. I aimed the shot to the wolfwere's back; the wood pierced its shoulder and remained in the wound, and it turned on me.
Another one that was too fast. My bow fell to the ground; I'd barely enough time to take up the sword once more. Bizarrely, there was an object tied upon the wolfwere's waist: the doll of a child, a pale rag-stuffed toy in a blue-flowered dress. Despite its monster's shape it wore a longbow across its shoulders.
Lunge forward, and it snarled over and across and aimed claws and teeth for your side. Recover by spinning right, and it wove past and pushed the sword aside with a blow of the claws, growling, burned but healing quickly. Then it hit; there was blood at my waist. That should mean time, a few minutes, the excitement the body fed to itself. I slashed down, at its leg; let it trip and fall. Another pain cut through my shoulder, deep and killing. My grip died. The sword stopped by the bone.
Then there was a flash of shadow behind the wolfwere; and Viconia's form appeared from darkness, her Sharran dull-silver dagger in the wolfwere's heart. She touched me and cast her healing spell swiftly. The pain stopped; Imoen was still fighting wolves, missiles called quickly from her hands. I helped her, and cleared enough of a path for her spell of confusion: the nutshellls dissolved between her hands, and the wolves howled and fled. Shar-Teel and Ajantis stood over three dead wolfweres and as many wolves. Viconia bent over Faldorn.
"Durlyle?" He opened his eyes, and spoke faintly; there was blood, but the cuts were not deep. I knelt over him.
"The hunter...kills slowly those who belong. I am less in need..."
I cast what sorcery I had left; he sat up, pale-faced, and by then Faldorn was able to cast her own healing spells, upon all of us.
Imoen took up the doll. "That little girl—" she said; Farthing was the name of the girl who'd asked for a toy taken by the beasts. She used words stronger than I'd heard from her before. "Creep," she finished, glaring and grimacing at the wolfwere's silver-pierced body; and then she winked at Viconia, pushing the doll upon her. "Hey, pretty blue lady, she asked you to help her."
We were within sight of the ship. The spike of her prow extended in the direction of the sea like the horn of a unicorn, and the legendary paint-stripped figure of the dwarven lady could still be seen upon the head. A gaping hole was in her side, though below the damage one could see the remains of the beautiful thing she had once been: the last ship of Balduran, a greater ship than even most constructed in recent years to sail the waters of Baldur's Gate. We'd killed the sentries, though the casters were beginning to tire; and if Maralee was right, there was a baby kidnapped in that place. There would be no sense in walking back to the village and allowing them to prepare more defences.
Shar-Teel had much the same thought. "More of these bastards to kill," she said, flicking blood from her blade. "Take the narrow ground with me, boy; casters, use anything you have; —and how good have you been getting at the shadow-trick, Skie?"
You change body and mind to blend into darkness; and Balduran's ship cast a long shadow, and the interior was almost black. (Which indicated that wolfweres could see in the dark, I thought.) The body weaves itself to merge into darkness, and remains there as long as one is silent and concentrating carefully; as for smell, that is less of a certain matter, and so I took the scent of one of the wolves we had killed, its fresh blood and still-warm fur, and promised myself a bath.
Then stepped alone into the wreck.
It was dark; and I remembered the loss of the ring that gave better eyes, and regretted it. But outside it was day, and light crept in from crevices in the once-watertight vessel; I became used to it. The decks were large; Balduran had commanded two hundred men, more than that. Here, old barrels lay overturned and shredded to pieces, with no signs of their former contents remaining; provisions, most likely. Wolves stalked and howled and guarded, and I walked quietly past them. Ladders ought to be placed near the centre of the ship. This part of it was as holed as it was draughty; its inhabitants were a tide of wolves who could not climb, one wolfwere to guard them. Then there was the slatted ladder for the crew to climb, and in fact a broad wooden plank raised beside it as a ramp that wolves could step upon. I tested each metal ring carefully; if they squeaked, I would be seen, and most likely quick to die.
Above a smaller pack of wolves lurked; and wolfweres drowsed, piled upon each other like hunting dogs. The smell of carrion was overpowering here. I walked past the bones of a bear with rotten scraps of flesh clinging to them; fresher-killed deer that a wolfwere kept awakened sentinel over; and horribly, more than one skeleton that appeared to be human. Here there had once been more large spaces for storage, for all the provisions of a long voyage; and the lowest grouping of bunks for the men, now destroyed.
The next ladder had no ramp for those on four legs. I slowly pulled myself up, still within the shadows of the ship, and hid behind a bulkhead the moment I stepped into it, for then a wolfwere passed by and easily swung itself down. If I'd been a little later...
I should have given up and returned outside; they didn't expect me to go far, only to look in case of preparation. A beast gave a howl like that of a vampiric wolf. Here were more bunkrooms, and wider rooms designed for the storage of weaponry, casks for ruined black powder, racks on the walls for securing shields and swords and bows. Openings for cannons in the sides of the ship, long since ruined and defunct. Then there was a set of stairs to the highest deck.
This one seemed smaller, as if it had once been more elaborately walled and furnished. Fragments of peeling paint still clung to the walls; old cushions with the stuffing pulled from them and torn blankets lined it. Then I heard a child's cry.
In a splintered chest lay a fair-haired human baby, and over him bent a female wolfwere with teats. Peladan. There was no reason why wolfwere young could not appear human, I supposed; but the child was of the description. But I couldn't rescue him then and there without us both getting killed, and the wolfwere sniffed the air. I slipped away. The concentration was growing too much for me; this deck seemed deserted, and behind a carved bulkhead I let myself step briefly out of the shadows and to take in a deep breath.
There should be a companionway up to the open air for this; Balduran's ship was four decks in height. No sound of footsteps—pawsteps—nearby. I stepped into the shadows once more.
I heard the ululations of an alto-pitched howl, up and down; from the largest cabin. Balduran's cabin, likely. I could not resist looking in the door: and saw another female wolfwere, covered by a torn and ripped robe that glittered with magic.
The caster of the lights seen by the village.
A spellcaster could break through shadow-hiding. I ran; if you were fast enough, you could continue quiet enough; if felt as if less weight was distributed once the body was in motion. There.
At last. I ran up the companionway, over broken planks atop it; and I was standing on the deck of Balduran's Wandering Eye. Gaping holes were torn in its once-proud timbers, and I walked in the shadow cast by a fallen mast. The wolfwere would have smelt one of their wolf-servants, I thought; but their wolf-servants seemed not to be able to climb up here, and if...
I reached the prow's spike up on the forecastle. A length of rope from the village was wound around my shoulders; I unhooked it and bound a sailor's knot around the wood. It was old, but when I pulled it held. The jumble of fallen timbers blocked me from first sight; a creature's footsteps came up on the deck, and I went down. The rope burned my hands; crying out would mean they'd kill me. Below a wolfwere prowled along the shores of the beach itself, on the water that came to the sandy rocks not far from where the ship rested. Perhaps in more time the waves would erode under the ship itself, and bring it once more into the sea for burial. The rope spooled out between my hands; sliding down, twenty feet above the ground, fifteen, ten, closer—
The rope gave way and I fell. The landing was flat, arms curled around my head, and bones shattered.
...Actually, if bones shattered you wouldn't be able to get up... Above, the robed wolfwere had simply jumped, and stood far more easily than I'd scrambled back up. There was a howled spell and I felt myself running from her in fear. Then there was pain as if a hundred fire-ants ate at my shoulder: an acid arrow. I ran.
Imoen was there; Faldorn by her. Faldorn began to chant. Shar-Teel signalled Imoen, and she threw the rotten seagull egg far and yet with accuracy, into the hole in the bottom of the ship. The stinking cloud erupted there, and when Faldorn finished her spell a storm of insects blew over the wolfweres' caster.
I turned back to fight the wolfwere sorcerer. Shar-Teel and Ajantis raced out beside me. The caster slapped at the insects about her; and then saw us. She screamed out something over the buzzing of the insects: a single word, and we were blown away from her. A sphere of glowing blue erupted from her body and surrounded her: the insects were cast away, and she gestured to begin another casting.
"I'll take it—" Imoen said grimly; "Get the wolves from the ship!"
There were howls; some wolves had broken free of Imoen's cloud. Faldorn chanted the gestures to her enchantment. They rushed past us; Ajantis brought Varscona down through the skull of a wolf, and a taller wolfwere broke past him toward me.
Claws slashing. Can't run away— Durlyle and the others were close behind me. Sidestep and speed. The Burning Earth swept through the air; elaborately quick on purpose. The wolfwere followed it. Under in the dance. Can't wear him down—have to wait for neck or heart left open—
I duelled him; managed to keep going. We'd stepped away from the rest of the battle, though not so close that the wolfwere could get Durlyle and the casters. The pace was exhausting in the short space of it—not so bad as Shar-Teel, Shar-Teel's better than this— There was a pain on my shoulder, but it couldn't be a deep cut. The flame blade glanced off the claws while my body moved away.
Then Faldorn finished her entanglement. Grasses sprung up; the wolfwere struggled, his feet taken. I spun around him to press the sword into his back, where Shar-Teel had said the heart was. He fell with a black hole in his chest, and I fought the next wolf that sprung at me.
Imoen shouted; pink missiles slammed into the wolfwere-sorceress' shield. It was a rough thing, I thought I saw: blue and only a sphere like a ball of rags was a sphere, inexact and crude: and all three of Imoen's attacks slammed into the thinnest part of it, wreaking a hole above the caster's left shoulder. The second group she cast made it directly into her enemy's body, and there was a howl. Shar-Teel's sword ripped through the belly of a grey wolf.
The wolfwere sorceress howled, the pitch so high that at first I did not recognise the sound. It was as the gong rung within Durlag's tower, the peal of all our fears—
It's magic I'm not supposed to be afraid it's magic I'm not supposed to be afraid—
Ajantis ran from the fight. Teeth sunk into my calf, and I slashed down with the sword; the bite released itself and fur burned. Shar-Teel swore; Faldorn cried out, Durlyle shouted in wrenching torment—
Imoen commanded. "Vic! Now!" she asked, and Viconia chanted. A shock of dark blue ran across us all; Viconia gasped for breath, and we were free from fear. Ajantis stepped back to his post; "Forgive me—" he panted, though the magic hadn't even lasted so long that there was something to forgive.
Both Imoen and the sorceress were casting again; preparing something. Imoen's was faster: her mage hand materialised behind the wolfwere, bigger than Edwin's had been in the lair of the spiders. The caster didn't turn her head to see, continuing her spell even as Imoen kept up her own chant; the mage hand reached for a broken plank of Balduran's ship, and lifted it high in the air directly above the wolfwere's head. Then Imoen let it fall. It ripped through the shield's weakness, and the caster's body fell, her skull destroyed.
Imoen's next casting was her confusion, scattering the enemy wolves. They howled and fell; Shar-Teel stepped up to the way inside the ship.
"More wolfweres and wolves," I said, "four inhabited decks, on the top only wolves. And the child. But he's not a hostage, right? They're looking after him, so I hope..."
"They would keep him to try to make him one of themselves," Durlyle said softly. "But he is alive, and you will rescue him..."
Ajantis nodded. "They know our position already," he said, "let us fight to save the child."
The wolves that defiled the the bottom of the Wandering Eye were entangled and confused; but the wolfweres and others I had seen ran down to fight. Shar-Teel and Ajantis, in front, gave thick cuts to them; I supported them, and Viconia sunk her silver dagger into those already fallen. Faldorn chanted welcome healing spells, lurking behind us. The way was clear to step into the second level, and the wolfweres attacked. Not all of them were as strong as Kryla's band, or the hunters; and dreadfully, I saw a small wolfwere at my height, trying to fight Shar-Teel, spitted on her sword. She couldn't have done anything else with it trying to kill her, but they did have adolescents and pups themselves— A wolf, dark-furred like a vampiric wolf, sprung at Ajantis' throat; he cut forward with Varscona, and then I took its exposed belly with the flaming sword. It burned, quickly dead. A large wolfwere pushed past Ajantis, and with Faldorn's help I killed it.
On this island, they have only the natural wildlife and a peaceful village; they aren't as well-practised killers as other monsters. They're weaker than legends of werewolves that prey on human settlements and fight armoured guards... Or it was partly that we'd become strong. Shar-Teel led, and fought them with as much strength as she'd done against the demon. The Burning Earth gave light when unsheathed, and harmed them.
"I have no more castings," Faldorn said, her voice exhausted. On the third level of Balduran's ship—we would examine it, once there were no more wolfweres trying to kill us—we had found a brief pause. The bodies lay around us; Ajantis plunged Varscon into those adult wolfweres with still-twitching limbs.
"You are injured," Durlyle said to me, and brought out bandages and a green ointment from his own bag. He'd stayed beside Imoen, safely protected. I hadn't noticed the deep slashes on my right arm; he bound it tightly enough to stop the loss of blood, and the liniment seemed to cleanse the wound of dirt. His large hands were slow-moving and careful, gentle even though the span of my wrist would have been wrapped almost by his palm alone. Then Ajantis and Shar-Teel.
Howls echoed, and from above they came rushing down at us. The female wolfwere I had seen nursing the human child, though the child himself thankfully not in view; and four others, all huge in size. Their leader seemed to be the biggest among them: his fur jet black, tipped with silver about his shoulders and back.
"I Karoug," he howled, "and you kill witch-mate!"
"He is supposed to lead them," Durlyle said in fright, "be careful—"
He was—stronger than Shar-Teel, and still faster. His claws ripped into her, and if she'd been in her plate she might have been better; but she bled badly. She pushed her greatsword in the ship's confining space, but the wolfwere claws were too close; too easily finding her. There wasn't time—I flailed with the burning sword, two of them around me in black masses of fur and teeth. If they knew Imoen did it—
Imoen cast, empty nut-shells in her hands, and her last confusion fell. Karoug was not affected, but Shar-Teel slashed through one, shoulder to opposite waist; and Ajantis killed the female. Time and breathing-space and a temporary advantage enough, even Viconia going into the fight with her dagger, Faldorn's club brought down. In a desperate effort Shar-Teel's sword was brought through Karoug's neck, though his claws were inside her body. I lunged forward to stop the last one from reaching her.
A baby cried in the distance.
"Get off me, male," Shar-Teel said. Viconia was bent down beside Durlyle, pulling the cloth bandages tight around her.
"Your stomach is whole, rivvil," she said, "obviously the luck of the fool that you live." She tightened the cloth with all her strength even as Shar-Teel winced, and carefully spread a leaf paste around the edges of the injury.
We found Peladan once more; he was adorable, and started crying the moment I picked him up.
"Give him to me, I'll do it properly," Imoen said. "Ooo's a sweet little...ew! That's disgusting!"
"An uncontrolled natural reaction," Faldorn said, although she didn't offer to hold the baby.
Ajantis sighed. "I had two younger brothers and a niece," he said, and managed to clean and swaddle the child with a scrap of cloth, who complained far less with him.
There were wolfwere pups in the ship: nine of them, shaped like beasts rather than people.
"We cannot murder them and they will die abandoned," Durlyle said; Ajantis nodded. "The village will take in and teach better; it must," he said with emphasis. They were only children, after all; at least they could be guard dogs of a sort, the mad thought crossed my mind. Three of the young wolfweres snapped fiercely at his hand when he reached too closely to them. "Will you escort village elders here and who would take them tomorrow?" he asked of us.
"Who'd suckle some monster-brat?" Shar-Teel said scornfully, pale below her tattoos and holding herself together, blood already starting to soak through the bandages. She taught me, but she never seemed...maternal, to anyone.
"They do not have to be monsters. They are but pups," Durlyle said forcefully; and even though it tried to bite him, he picked up the smallest of them, a light-brown-furred blend of monster and toddler. "I would take and teach." He spoke soothingly to the pup, almost growling in imitation of its language; and managed to tie it to his chest like a mother's sling for carrying a child. "The rest will be here with food and water until we come again."
The brig we locked behind the pups; and the rest of the ship we prowled.
"Your cloak." I found it upon the fourth deck, on the floor of the lair of the wolfwere-sorceress.
"Frail and old, and yet none the worse for wear." Durlyle handled it with reverent joy, that slow-blossoming smile of his upon his face. There was more for me to discover, and I lingered despite his poor opinion of Balduran: a golden shortsword bearing his name engraven to the hilt; a damaged book of spells of one of the ships'-mages, for Imoen to read the magic contained; the butter knife that some accounts of Balduran said he prized as a gift from his mother, still sparkling with preservation enchantment; the ship's very wheel in the fresh air on the deck, carefully carved but too big for me to do more than take a charcoal rubbing on cloth of the gravings that remained on it; a dented mage-augmented compass whose needle still swung to point northward, the old-fashioned design marking its age and great value; most preciously of all, a tattered logbook. The spidery script had been torn and damaged by the wolfweres' awful depredations and hard usage of the ship, and yet the thick cover had still kept parts of the ship's log safe and legible. Deciphering it would take time and effort, so I wrapped and packed it carefully to keep until we returned to the village. Balduran's own writing, Balduran's own logbook...
I must have seemed ridiculous in excitement, for Durlyle laughed; though it was to share joy rather than mock. "The past of your pack is important to you," he said. "My people are still young..."
"Young, but with history," I replied. He watched me; his eyes were a dark velvety brown, almost like the soulful look of a large and lovely dog. "If you would share more of it...I would be very pleased to hear."
Peladan and the pup interrupted our talk while we walked once more to the village home.
—
Did he want to go upon it? Did he wish to go upon it? Edwin started to fear once more—
—