OoOoO

The next morning when Lhara came downstairs for breakfast, she was both surprised and relieved to find Jath sitting at a table in The Lighthouse's common room next to Reyson. Both wore their old, faded travel clothes again, and Jath looked like he hadn't slept much. Dark circles ringed his eyes, making them look even more eerily colourless when he looked up from the glass of water he was nursing. Even so, despite the events of yesterday and his abrupt absence, a genuine smile brightened Jath's face when he saw Lhara.

"Good morning," Jath greeted Lhara and Yidu as the two of them took their seats at the table. "We ordered eggs and sausage a little while ago...they should be ready soon."

Lhara would not be so easily distracted. "Where did you go, Jath? We were worried!"

Jath's smile faltered momentarily, only to return, now with a distant, rather fixed quality to it. "I was out walking. Blue Stone is a beautiful city, and it's been quite a while since I was last here so there was a lot to see."

Before Lhara could press Jath further, Reyson interrupted. "Good, then you should know exactly which way it is to the marketplace. You and Lhara can go buy us supplies for the trip to Hashodi, and trade in those fancy dinner clothes for proper travel gear. I need to stay here and study the maps of The Night Forest."

The innkeeper arrived at the table just then, bringing a tray laden with food and a frown. Clearly the man still expected trouble from his four unusual guests, and had no intention of letting off on his scrutiny any time soon. As plates were passed around, Reyson shot Lhara a meaningful look. Lhara rolled her eyes. So, this was Reyson's plan; to have her use a trip to the market with Jath as an opportunity to spring Darenel Tremaris's offer on him.

"And what am I supposed to do all morning?" whined Yidu, already halfway through her first sausage. "Our room upstairs is boring...especially if Lhara's going to be out and gone!"

Reyson gave Yidu an exasperated glance. "Just your presence at the restaurant last night has probably already set tongues wagging all across Blue Stone. We need to lay low for the few days that we're here. Find some way to entertain yourself."

Yidu snorted. "Tssk, and Jath doesn't stand out!?" When Jath winced and Reyson glowered, Yidu changed tactics. "Fine. Maybe I'll go introduce myself to the cleaning maid then. I saw her hanging towels out to dry in the back yard this morning...very, very pretty, with nice hips."

Setting down his egg-laden fork, Reyson placed both hands on the tabletop and leaned in, a warning look in his eye. "I will repeat myself; we are NOT here to cause a scene. Nobody looks twice at two girls together in Moaan, but this is Blue Stone. Things are different here. You are to stay inside this inn and out of trouble until Lhara and Jath return, is that clear?"

"Yas Dad. Bury my bones, this is all very rich coming from a man who spent the whole trip here from Utunma playing coy with the First Mate."

"Ebn is too friendly for his own good." Reyson's tone could have frozen Aryna Lake solid. "And you are too nosy for yours. You will stay upstairs, in that room, and if I catch you elsewhere, I'm putting you on the first dingy back to Undor. Understood??"

Lhara and Jath sat across from one another in awkward silence while Reyson and Yidu bickered, both determinedly fixated on their breakfast. At one point, when Yidu reached across the table and stole Reyson's last sausage out of pure frustration, Lhara couldn't resist sneaking a peek up at Jath. He met her eye, and with a helpless little shrug shook his head. Lhara snickered before turning her attention back to her eggs. Then she remembered the task which Reyson had set her, and just like that all the warmth went out of the golden September sunrise filtering through The Lighthouse's curtains.

OoOoO

Blue Stone's shopping district was a long street, winding its way snake-like along the hillside just a block above the docks. There was a threat of rain in the air, and dark grey clouds hung low over the city and Lake Aryna, turning the glassy water into a silver mirror. It had already drizzled lightly earlier that morning; tiny droplets clung to shingles of every roof, and underfoot the cobbled streets gleamed wetly. Low-hanging clouds – or was it fog? – wreathed the spires of Mirrormorn Castle, threatening to descend across all of Blue Stone. A distinctly autumnal chill lingered from the night before, even though it was already mid-morning, nipping at fingertips and turning Lhara's breath into little white clouds. With only her sleeveless Undorian shirt and vest, Lhara might have shivered if she had not been born and bred to the thin, chilly air of The Teeth. The tables had turned; here in Blue Stone it was Jath, in his threadbare but all-covering clansfolk garb, who was now the one properly dressed for the weather. Still, they would all need proper travel gear if they were to withstand hiking off-road through The Night Forest.

Their first stop was a tailor's shop. Jath's sickly blonde hair did not stand out unduly amidst the fair-haired local residents, but the woman behind the counter still gasped aloud when she got a proper look at him close-up. From that point onward, the tailor would only speak directly to Lhara. Fortunately, Lhara was no stranger to bartering, and with a few whispered suggestions from Jath she was able to exchange their fancy dinner clothes for proper trousers, shirts, jackets, and cloaks. Lhara felt a brief twinge of regret as the leaf-green dress passed across the counter into the tailor's hands, but it quickly passed. A dress like that would be of no help whatsoever when trying to hike through underbrush and climb up rocky ledges.

"These pants may not fit Yidu very well," worried Lhara as they left the shop. "She's so tall and strong, I had no choice but to buy her a men's cut."

"Could you alter them?" asked Jath, his fraying hood now pulled so far up that Lhara could only see the lower half of his face as she walked beside him.

"I don't know...I'm afraid I'm not much of a seamstress. Tarun did most of the mending at home."

"Oh?" Jath sounded almost amused, despite his previous low mood.

"He was good at it, and I wasn't, so it made sense!" Lhara tried to come to her own defense. "Too bad he isn't here now..." she added wistfully. No doubt Tarun was stuck in some drab army barracks somewhere, surrounded by nothing but dirt and steel. He would have drunk in the sites of a city like Blue Stone with relish.

"I could try my hand at fixing the pants for Yidu," Jath offered. "I'm not entirely unfamiliar with sewing."

"You are?!" Lhara exclaimed, surprised out of her yearnings. "Is that something all noblemen learn?"

"No. My sister was a seamstress, for a little while."

It wasn't often that Lhara learned more about Jath's past life, especially from him directly. The burning curiosity to ask more was tempered though by the tight, unhappy set of his pale mouth. Here in Blue Stone, Jath was closed-off, secretive...worlds different from the gentle traveler who had wondered at dragon skeletons in Hollowtop Mountain with her.

Their next stop was the cobbler's shop for boots. Again, they traded in Lhara's nippy shoes for a pair of sturdy, knee-high boots. Jath, Reyson, and Yidu already had serviceable (if unduly fashionable) boots from their dinner costumes, and so this visit went much quicker than the tailor's shop. Again, the storekeeper took one look at Jath and promptly snubbed him in favour of Lhara. This particular fellow made no bones though about playing up how difficult he found Lhara's mountain accent to understand. Both Lhara and Jath were in low spirits by the time they exited the cobbler's shop. Compounding their eagerness to return to The Lighthouse, a low rumble of thunder promised that rain was a question of 'when', not 'if'.

"We still need packs, rope, sleeping rolls, and other small items," Jath reminded Lhara. "Hopefully Reyson gave us enough money for everything."

"What time is it?" Lhara asked him.

"Isn't the main square clock behind me?"

Lhara wrinkled her nose peevishly. "It is...or at least I think it is. I don't know how to read it anyways, even if I could see it from here." Yet another reminder of how unworldly her life in Trosk had been. Among the mountainfolk, everyone simply used the journey of the sun across the sky to tell them when it was time to eat, sleep, and gather. What were a few minutes here or there when everyone lived within shouting distance of one another?

Frowning beneath his hood, Jath turned. He studied the clock tower - looming like a yellow-faced sentinel over the main square in Blue Stone's shopping district - before turning back to Lhara.

"Can't you see the clock's hands from here?"

"No! And I told you; even if I could, I wouldn't know what they mean."

"Here..." Taking one of the wrapped bundles of clothes from Lhara, Jath caught her by the arm and led her over to where a gap in the shops revealed a more-or-less complete view of the lake. "How many ships do you see anchored at the dock?"

"I don't know...four?" Lhara guessed, squinting in annoyance at the muddled grey, white, and brown shapes below.

"Six. The other two have their sails taken in. Lhara...do you have weak eyes?"

"No! ...Not really...I manage alright...Maybe? ...Yes."

Jath was so taken aback, he produced a very Reyson-like gesture, rocking back on his heels and bringing a hand to his chin. "You hide it very well, considering that it's taken this long for me to notice. You led the way through The Teeth with such surety..."

"I'm not completely blind," retorted Lhara. "It doesn't take an eagle to see a mountain rising up in front of you."

"Even so, haven't you ever considered doing something about it?"

That piqued Lhara's curiosity. "Like what? My eyes are what they are. Ma's were just as bad, that's why Da was the shepherd even though he wasn't mountain-born."

Again, Jath took Lhara by the hand, and again she allowed him to tug her along. He moved straight and sure through the gathering crowd, clearly with a specific destination in mind. Lhara, with one arm full of bundled clothes and boots, could only trail after Jath with a bewildered look on her face.

When finally Jath stopped, it was in front of a glassblower's shop. Puzzled, Lhara peered at the gleaming collection of jars, cups, and bowls displayed inside.

"Glass?" she wondered aloud. "What does glass have to do with my eyes?"

Jath, despite himself, smiled. "You'll see soon."

OoOoO

The inside of the glassblower's shop was cramped and cluttered. It seemed like practically every available surface had been press-ganged into service to display the shop's wears. Even chairs once meant for customers now sported a collection of vases, shaped from winter-blue glass and twisting like icicles. Entranced, Lhara chanced to reach out and touch a curtain of red glass beads, dangling like droplets of blood from the bottom of a lantern case mounted on the wall. They let out a sharp, ominous tinkle when disturbed though, and Lhara quickly jumped back, fearful of breaking even a single bead. No doubt everything in this shop was expensive.

"They don't bite."

The voice of an old man brought both Jath and Lhara spinning toward the back of the shop. Standing in a shadowed doorway stood a tiny figure, scarcely bigger than a child. Despite the beauty of his wares, the glassblower himself was nothing much to look at. His clothes were plain and slightly over-sized, his back bowed and hands gnarled. When the old man shuffled out into the rainy light though, and Lhara found herself immediately put at ease by the peaceable smile on his wrinkled face.

"If I had a lun for every time I've tried to tell customers to touch with their eyes, not their hands, I'd be as rich as King Mahir." The glassblower shrugged. "That was when I was younger and had more energy for scolding. Now I just save my breath and let folks buy whatever they end up breaking. Business has actually gotten better since."

"Parden us, sir, but do you sell eye-glasses?" asked Jath.

The glassblower cocked his head, studying Jath. Stretching down and forward as far as his aged neck would allow, he peeked up under Jath's hood. His eyebrows shot up, and he shook his head. Jath immediately deflated; a subtle shift, but one which Lhara noticed all the same. She felt her previous annoyance flare up on Jath's behalf. Were all shopkeepers in Goran so rude?

To both their surprise though, their disappointment proved unfounded. The old man looked up at Jath sympathetically.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything that could help you there, young man. My eye-glasses can only help if you've got some sight to work with in the first place. Curing blindness is a bit beyond me."

"Blindness? What do you-oh!" Jath's white eyes widened in realization. "No, not for me...for her! I can see you perfectly well, sir, you and all of your beautiful work. My companion here has weak eyesight when it comes to seeing things at a distance. Do you have anything that might help her?"

"Oh! Well that changes things then! Come here, sweet, and let's see what we can do for you! What did you say your name was?"

"Erm...Lhara." Caught off guard, both by the glassblower's reaction and by having been called 'sweet', Lhara snuck a glance at Jath for reassurance. Jath, seemingly likewise perplexed, simply shrugged and followed Lhara toward the back of the shop.

Quickly removing a nested set of glass bowls from the seat, the old man offered Lhara a stool at a low desk. Then, as an afterthought, he evicted a pair of decorative owls from their perch on another stool and offered it to Jath. Leaving the two of them sitting uncertainly amidst the clutter, the glassblower disappeared behind the counter to rummage through what sounded like an entire crate full of broken glass. Every crash and tinkle made Lhara cast a questioning glance at Jath, silently wondering at his reasoning in having brought them here in the first place. Jath for his part seemed determined to inspect every detail in a nearby case filled with little glass figurines, politely pretending not to flinch when a particularly loud crunch filled the shop.

"Aha! Here they are!"

When the glassblower came back out from around the counter, he held a flat wooden case in his hands. The lid opened with a click, and inside were nearly a dozen of the most curious objects Lhara had ever seen. They sat nestled into individual nests of padded velvet, rimmed in thick, two-armed wire and speckled with a light layer of dust. Lhara saw her own face, brow-furrowed, peering dubiously back up at her from dozens of pairs of rounded glass.

"Eye-glasses?" she asked, curious.

"Aye, eye-glasses!" The old man confirmed with a pleased nod. "Not exactly what I'm known for, but I used to dabble a fair bit in the various sizes, shapes, and corrections. Now we'll just have to find whichever set works best for you." Setting down the box atop the nearby counter, he rummaged for a moment before offering Lhara the first pair.

The moment the wire frames settled across her nose, Lhara let out a squeak of surprise. Everything looked different! Or rather, everything she saw before her was now a blurred mess. Even her hands, more familiar to Lhara than her own face, seemed hazy and undefined.

"Well?" asked the glassblower. "Is that better, or worse?"

"Worse...I can hardly see at all now!"

And so, it began. Pair after pair left their home in the box to be tested on Lhara's eyes. Some weren't entirely bad, but they left her feeling disoriented and out of focus. Others were even more unhelpful than the first pair. Outside, a gentle rainfall began to fall in the streets, the pit-pat of raindrops on the shop's roof filling the silence between the glassblower's questions and Lhara's answers. Jath meanwhile sat quietly watching, letting Lhara concentrate on each pair of eye-glasses as she tried them on.

Soon there were only three pairs left in the box, and Lhara was beginning to feel that these little baubles were less for use and more for show. Then, she tried on a set of eye-glasses with frames made of darkened brass. Humoring the glassmaker, Lhara turned to glance at the blurred, indistinct shapes of passersby in the street outside the window. That was when everything changed.

What had previously been grey, human-shaped shadows were suddenly people, as fully realized as if Lhara were standing face-to-face with them! Not only that, but she could see past them to the shops across the street. Looking closely, Lhara realized that she could even count the loaves of bread on display in the baker's window. It was the world like Lhara had never seen it before.

Mouth agape in wonder, she spun on her stool to tell Jath of her discovery. It wasn't just the world that had changed though. Although Lhara had never struggled to see and recognize people close-up, to her delight she realized that there were so many details in Jath's face which she'd never been able to see before. The little cleft in his chin, the edges of sunburnt skin still flaking around his hairline, the kaleidoscopic flecks of silver and snow which gave his 'colourless' eyes depth at their centers, even the faint tracing of blue veins peeking through at the pale hollow of his throat. All these finer points of Jath had Lhara seeing him as if they were meeting again for the first time.

A slight smile pulled at the corner of Jath's mouth. "I think we may have found the winning pair. What do you think, Lhara?"

"This is...this is unbelievable! I never-!"

All of the sudden, Lhara felt her throat tightening. She'd never seen her parents' faces like this. She'd never seen Marden or Yelaina's faces like this, never known just how gold Yelaina's long hair was, or how many laugh lines Marden had begun to collect at the corners of his eyes. She'd never seen Tarun like this, and discovered for herself if he really did have one eyebrow set ever-so-slightly higher than the other. Unable to say anything more without crying, Lhara waved a hand frantically in Jath's direction and turned away.

"Yes, I think this is definitely the right pair," said the glassblower kindly. He shut the lid on the case of eye-glasses. "Careful now, or you'll have to clean them."

Sure enough, the tiny droplets gathering on Lhara's eyelashes were already beginning to speckle the eye-glasses. Loathe to obscure her newfound sight in any way, Lhara blinked hard several times and took several deep, steadying breaths.

Something warm wrapped around her fingers, and it took Lhara a second to realize that Jath was holding her hand. Gulping down more of the shop's musty, chamomile scented air, Lhara squeezed back. The smile on Jath's face was beautiful, and not just because it was so flawlessly clear.

"How much for the eye-glasses, sir?" Jath looked up at the glassblower, who was standing watching them with his gnarled hands tucked into his pockets and a satisfied expression on his face. Only then did it occur to Lhara to worry about the cost. As far as she knew, Jath had given her all of his earthly wealth and then some with the cost of the trip to Falerik. Perhaps Jath meant for Lhara to buy the eye-glasses then, seeing as she held all of what had once been his money. Fair enough, Lhara supposed; now that she had seen the world as it truly was, she didn't think she could ever go back to living in a blur.

To her surprise though, Jath reached for his belt. Unhooking the long knife which he had carried since Utunma – his only weapon - he offered it to the glassblower.

"I'm very sorry...I know it's not much, but perhaps the blade itself might be worth something...I can also swear to a debt, if you would be wil-"

Lhara was just about to stop Jath and produce her own bulging coin purse when the glassblower interrupted them both.

"Nah, I'm comfortable enough in my business to be able to indulge myself every once in a while. The look on your girl's face when she put those eye-glasses on was worth a king's broadsword." Leaning down, he straightened the frames on Lhara's face before patting her shoulder. "You just never lose those bright, wondering eyes. Think you can do that for an old man, sweet?"

Lhara was so touched, she could only nod without risking crying all over again. On a sudden impulse, she jumped to her feet, wrapping her arms around the glassblower's neck for a hug.

"Thank you. This is the best gift I've ever been given."

His tiny frame humming with laughter, the old man patted Lhara's back. Jath clasped the glassblower's hand tightly, gratitude shining all over his face. He just smiled and gave Jath a knowing wink.

It was still raining as Jath and Lhara stepped out of the shop, but the two of them just grinned and laughed at one another as Jath lifted his arm to offer Lhara shelter beneath the edge of his threadbare cloak. Wondering at everything from the slick shine of the cobblestones to the bored green gaze of an alley cat, Lhara drank in the world through new eyes. Then she remembered how this whole thing had begun in the first place, and slid her arm around Jath's waist.

"Thank you so much. I didn't know what I was missing...until now."

Tucked against Jath's side beneath his cloak – even though their similar heights forced Lhara to hunch far over – Lhara both heard and felt Jath's answering chuckle.

"You're very welcome. I'm only sorry that I couldn't pay for the eye-glasses properly. Maybe someday we'll pass this way again, and be able to repay the glassblower."

"Maybe, someday." The reminder that their time here in Blue Stone was limited sobered Lhara. She was keeping a secret from Jath...holding back the knowledge of Reyson's deal with Darenel Tremaris. The thought burned at Lhara as she watched rain droplets fall through her new eye-glasses. "Jath...there's something I have to tell you."

A horse-drawn wagon rumbled down the street, prompting Lhara and Jath to step to one side. They found temporary shelter from the downpour under the front stoop of an ale house. Inside, many cheery voices could be heard, chasing away the rain with firelight and friendly company. The warm glow through the window cast Jath in an amber light, almost as if it were emanating from Jath himself.

"What is it, Lhara?" Jath sounded so at peace, so content, it nearly broke Lhara's heart to tell him.

"Reyson made a bargain with Darenel Tremaris. A bargain that involves you."

Almost instantly, Jath's arms around Lhara stiffened. Then they went slack, and although he did not release her, his expression turned blank, closed-off.

"What kind of bargain?" he whispered.

"In exchange for cutting the price of the trip to Hashodi in half – we didn't have enough money otherwise – Darenel wants you to meet with him, alone, for one hour."

Thanks (or perhaps unfortunately due) to her new eye-glasses, Lhara was able to see with perfect clarity every single emotion as it ghosted across Jath's face. Surprise, anger, sorrow, denial, they all came and passed as quickly as shadows in the glow of the ale house's fire. It only took a moment for Jath to clamp down on his reaction again, but in that time Lhara knew she could never forgive Reyson for having made this deal. Nor, that matter, for having tasked her as the messenger.

"No."

"I'm sorry...I know I should have told you sooner..."

"That's not your fault. But my answer is no. I will tell Reyson as much myself."

As much as Lhara warned herself otherwise, her curiosity pushed her to ask one insensitive question.

"What did he do to you, Jath?"

Jath's mouth thinned into a tight, bloodless line. "Not to me...but no good can ever come of me speaking to Darenel Tremaris." Seeing the confusion remaining in Lhara's eyes, Jath ground out "That feckless whelp killed my sister."

OoOoO

That afternoon, back at The Lighthouse, Jath did indeed give Reyson his answer to the deal. The result was a quarrel the likes of which Lhara had never imagined Jath to even be capable of. His and Reyson's shouting was so loud, Lhara and Yidu could hear every word through their room's wall.

"I said leave it, Reyson! You had no right to strike such a bargain in the first place!"

"I will not 'leave it', this is insane! You would really turn your back on Undor, on Vinie - who saved your miserable life - over some old quarrel??"

"Vinie would not have asked this in the first place! She at least has some measure of tact when dealing with her folk."

"Tact be damned, these are people's lives we're talking about here! How much longer do you think Mahir is going to sit around in Amenthere, patiently letting Undor rebuild its strength? When he strikes, and it will be soon, people are going to die. We need the north!"

"And I'm not stopping you from rallying them! But there is nothing you could ever do or say to compel me to speak to that man."

"But you are! Travelling off-road in The Night Forest is as dangerous if not more than in The Teeth!"

"Go by the main road then!"

"These lands are crawling with royal soldiers! If Yidu is seen, she'll be arrested! Is that what you want? All for the sake of your pride??"

"It's not my pride, it's my will! And I will not speak to him!"

"Fine then, don't speak to Tremaris...box his ears and ring his neck for all I care! But you will take the deal, even if I have to drag the two of you face-to-face myself!!"

The shouting grew more intense, the two men less reasonable, with every passing second. Lhara groaned. Rolling onto her side on the bed, she clamped her hands over her ears.

"They're going to get us thrown out," Yidu predicted grimly. She sat cross-legged on her own bed, attempting to re-size the pants Lhara and Jath had brought her herself. Her stitches were tidier than Lhara's, but Lhara was beginning to wonder now if that had been a symptom of her eyes. A part of her wanted to try sewing again sometime...but later.

"We could always try to make our own way to Hashodi through The Night Forest?" she suggested. "How bad could it be?"

Yidu raised an eyebrow (and winced as Reyson bellowed something about selfishness at Jath on the other side of the wall). "Would you give that advice to someone wanting to find their way to Trosk off-road in The Teeth?"

"...No."

"Lhara, there's a reason the north is so cut off from the rest of Goran. The Night Forest isn't just difficult...it's haunted."

That pricked at Lhara's memory, and she recalled the Forest of Latharan, just beyond the outskirts of the small town of Falerik. When she told Yidu as much, Yidu shook her head.

"Latharan is haunted the way an old barn or a cave might be haunted; strange sounds, odd shadows, a chill down your back, that sort of thing. They say that, in The Night Forest, the wind speaks with a voice and the very stones come alive. Paths shift from one day to the next, and creatures unlike anywhere else in Goran hunt in the night." Yidu shivered. "I wouldn't want to travel there, off-road and unguided, for any amount of coin."

"I DON'T CARE! I SAID NO!"

"YOU DON'T CARE ABOUT ANYONE!"

This time, both Lhara and Yidu flinched. Lhara almost buried her face in the quilt before remembering that she was still wearing her glasses. Instead, mindful of the bendable wire and breakable glass, she grabbed a pillow and hid beneath it.

"Why can't Jath just say yes and get it over with?" moaned Yidu.

That caught Lhara off-guard. Tossing aside the pillow, she sat upright facing Yidu.

"You agree with Reyson!?"

Yidu's needle paused in mid-stitch. "You agree with Jath?"

"Well...yes! It's it obvious how upset even just the sight of Darenel Tremaris made him? And earlier, he mentioned something about Darenel having killed his sister! If someone told me I had to speak to the red sorcerer who killed Marden and Yelaina, I would probably spit in their face!"

A pained look tightened Yidu's usually sweet, cheerful face. She bit her lip, and looked away from Lhara.

"Without the north though, Undor will be alone when Mahir strikes. More of my people will die...many more. More than already have."

Yidu's voice grew so soft and sad with those last words, Lhara wouldn't have recognized it as hers. Their conversation in The Lighthouse's baths came back to her then; a reminder of what had happened to Yidu's parents and sister during the Factionist demonstrations in Moaan. The memory of Vinie and Gideo's screams upon finding their friend Sahar at the crossroads outside of Utunma rang once more in Lhara's ears. Without the north, more people would indeed die. Many, many more.

"It's still not right," whispered Lhara. "Jath shouldn't have to do this."

"He has to."

A sudden slamming of doors jerked Lhara and Yidu out of their own debate, and they realized that the shouting had stopped. Too late, Lhara realized what the slamming meant.

"Jath!"

Leaping up off the bed, she ran to the door of their room and yanked it open. The door to Reyson and Jath's room stood swinging, and below on the stairs Lhara heard a rush of footsteps. The front door of The Lighthouse banged open...and then there was silence.

Reyson came stalking out into the hall. Every vein stood out in his neck and jaw, and he stood grinding his teeth as he glared toward the stairs. Rounding on Lhara and Yidu in the doorway, he ground out;

"We may as well find a boat back to Utunma tomorrow. I'm not taking you girls out to fall down some ravine and break a leg in The Night Forest. Goodnight."

Without another glance, Reyson disappeared back into his room, shutting the door roughly behind him. That left Lhara and Yidu standing alone in the hall, barefoot in the dark and their nightshirts.

Lhara needed only a moment to make her decision. Darting back into their room, she reappeared in seconds, new boots and a blanket from the bed in hand.

"You're going after Jath," guessed Yidu. She looked tired and crestfallen.

"I am, but don't give up hope just yet, Yidu. I refuse to accept that this is where our road ends."

Leaving Yidu alone with her doubts and disappointment, Lhara ran down The Lighthouse's stairs and out the door. The sound of mountainous snoring from the back of the inn answered the question of where the innkeeper was, and why he had not come rushing to evict them. Hopping from one foot to another as she pulled on her boots – not bothering to lace them – Lhara slung the blanket across her shoulders and stepped out into the chilly night air.

She had no idea where she was going, or where Jath might have gone. Her new eye-glasses afforded her a sharper view of Blue Stone's darkened streets though, and Lhara was thus able to pick her way along without too much fear of tripping or getting lost. She wandered for what felt like hours. Overhead, the clear night sky began to fill with stars, and if Lhara had bothered to look up she might have even forgotten about Jath for sheer awe and wonder. It was growing late, and the streets were by and large deserted. Here and there an alley cat mewled as she passed, and one upstairs window in an inn interrupted the blue-black palette of night with a sudden square of orange.

At last, when her feet were beginning to blister from her new boots and her hopes were beginning to fade, Lhara found Jath. He was sitting on a low, moss-covered wall of white bricks, set at the top of a swell in the hillside and looking out over most of Blue Stone and Aryna Lake. The moon hung low over the bowl of hillsides around the lake, as if gazing down upon its own pale face, perfectly reflected in the black water. Owls were circling silently over the city rooftops; it was time to hunt, and one-by-one they left their roosts in the many nooks and crannies of Mirrormorn Castle. A flash of silver wings was the only warning Lhara had before two flew overhead, perfectly soundless.

Jath remained where he was, reclining against a rise in the wall with his face to the lake as Lhara approached. Her boot scuffled over the stone though, and he let out a breath.

"Have you come to convince me that it's the right thing to do, Lhara? You wouldn't be wrong if you had."

"No..." A little uncertain despite the firmness of her tone, Lhara approached Jath's perch slowly. "I came to ask you something."

"Oh?"

Unwilling to stand craning her neck up at Jath to speak to him, Lhara reached up and gripped the edge of the wall. The moss-covered bricks were slick from the morning's rain, but Lhara as one of the mountainfolk was well used to such climbing. She pulled herself up onto the ledge with no trouble, and turned to sit, one leg on either side, facing Jath directly.

"What happened to your sister? You've mentioned her twice now to me, and that she's dead. How did she die though?"

Jath's white eyes shone, lamp-like, with reflected moonlight, and Lhara realized that he was holding back tears. She did not back down though. For a long moment they stared at one another in the darkness. Then, head bowing, Jath relented.

"Her name was Awenis...Awenis Saurivic."

"Awenis." Lhara repeated the name, instinctively giving it Jath's inflection. "Elder, or younger?"

"Younger, by three years. She and I were nobles, the children of the rich and powerful Saurivic family of Vaelona." Jath looked up, and apparently read the unspoken question in Lhara's eyes. "She was like me, but not entirely. We never knew what caused my...condition. Whatever it was, Awenis was only partially affected. She could pass for at least somewhat normal, and that granted her a great deal more ability to socialize with her peers than I had. You must understand, Lhara, that Vaelonese society is a harsh judge when it comes to appearance. Those who do not 'belong' are shunned."

"Did you ever resent her for it?" asked Lhara quietly.

Jath flinched, white eyes flashing. "Never! I worshipped her! She was the only one who ever saw me as a person worthy of care, of value for more than what benefit I might bring to the family line...however little benefit that may have been," he added bitterly.

"What happened?"

"She met Darenel Tremaris." Jath's voice turned flat, as cold and black as the surface of Aryna Lake. "He was young and handsome and charming and Awenis fell for him. The two of them had a...neither were married, so it wasn't an affair, per se, but they were not betrothed to one another either. You remember what I told you about Vaelonese courtship...or lack thereof?"

Of course Lhara remembered, how could she forget? It wasn't every day that one was proposed to, after a single kiss no less! She nodded, silently prompting Jath to go on.

His next words seem to come hard, and Jath's throat worked before speaking. "Awenis fell pregnant with Darenel's child. She confided in me, afraid for the future of her babe. Against my private opinions, I tried to reassure her...tried to convince her that Darenel would stand by his promises, and that together the two of them would weather the scandal and be married. But..." Again, Jath swallowed harshly. "...But when we went to the Tremaris estate the next day, it was not Darenel who met us, but his great-aunt, the head of the Tremaris family. Lady Tremaris flung Awenis's affection for Darenel back in her face, and forbade any union between the two of them. The whole time, I think Awenis never stopped hoping that Darenel would appear...would stand up to his aunt and honour his word. He never came. Instead, he remained upstairs, hiding in his apartments the entire time we were there."

Lhara tried to imagine the betrayal that Awenis Saurivic must have felt in such a moment. Nothing she had ever experienced in her life amongst the honest, straightforward mountainfolk came close.

"Your sister must have been heartbroken..." Lhara trailed off. Her da had only owned one book of romantic stories and poems, but many of them ended in dramatic tragedy, usually involving one jilted lover (or both) bringing harm to themselves.

Again, Jath must have guessed where Lhara's thoughts were going. He shook his head. "If she was, she kept it entirely to herself. Awenis was...I told you once that she was a moth, yes?"

"The most beautiful and rarest of moths," said Lhara, quoting Jath almost exactly.

"Yes. Moths, unlike butterflies, are tough, hardier than their delicate wings and fragile bodies suggest. That was my sister. She refused to weep, or even pause to lick her wounds. That very day, she made the choice to leave Vaelona behind forever. She resolved to give up the life of a noblewoman, and live instead as a simple seamstress, that she might raise her child in peace away from the ugliness of the glittering, phony world we knew."

"What about you?"

The ghost of a smile flitted across Jath's face. "I went with her. What else could I possibly have done? For a little while, we were even happy. We lived in Geristan, her working for a tailor and I posing as a blind, aged minstrel. Then I was recognized."

"By whom?"

Jath's smile – wane and fragile as it was – promptly faded. "Someone I knew in another life. A daughter of another Vaelonese family. When Awenis found out, she was adamant that we were no longer safe in Geristan. She was determined to cross The Teeth along the Old Mountain Road. I think she saw the east as a sort of haven...a land of possibility, where we could live openly as ourselves and never have to fear our old lives catching up to us ever again."

"When was this...?" asked Lhara, although she was beginning to get a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as if she already knew.

"Mid-winter."

"Oh Jath..."

"We almost made it, if you can believe it. The Old Mountain Road was difficult, yes, but we had a horse and we were more than halfway through. That was when...that was when Awenis...she..."

Lhara said nothing. Instead, she scooted forward along the ledge until she was as close to Jath as she could get. Ribbons of moonlight gleamed down both of Jath's pale cheeks.

"Awenis lost the baby. There was so much blood, and she just kept bleeding. We were alone, in The Teeth, in the middle of winter. We barely had food and water, much less herbs or medicinal tools. So I did the only thing I knew to do; I turned us around and rose back toward the west as fast as the horse could go...and then some." A stab of guilt twisted Jath's face.

"It was all in vain though. Even when we escaped The Teeth, there was no one in any direction as far as the eye could see. I carried Awenis through the snow...she was still bleeding and so, so cold. The only shelter in sight was an abandoned barn, and I made for it."

"Jath..."

The remainder of Jath's tale was short, told through choking sobs. "She died there, cold, hungry, and in pain. She was so strong, and so brave, but she died in that cold, terrible barn. Died right in my arms as I held her! I wanted to go for help, but she asked me to stay...to stay with her until...until..."

Jath could go no further. His head fell forward into his hands, and he leaned forward into the backs of his knees. Lhara, not caring about anything else anymore, pushed herself all the way forward until she was practically in Jath's lap...or rather, until he was in hers. Legs hanging off the wall, arms stretched out full-length to wrap awkwardly around him, Lhara pulled Jath to her and held him as he wept.

"Shhh...shhh..." Lhara whispered, not knowing what else to say.

They stayed like that for a long time; clinging to one another in the dark as owls flew overhead on silent wings. Finally, something to say came to Lhara.

"Awenis died free. Although I never met her, I don't think she would have had it any other way. I would have refused to go back to Vaelona too."

Jath's grip on Lhara's waist grew so tight as to be almost painful. He said nothing though, and so Lhara continued.

"She loved you, Jath, and she loved her child. Does Darenel Tremaris deserve to be spared the truth? The truth of what happened to Awenis? If anyone should have to carry the weight of this, it's him. You did everything you could for her."

Again, silence descended like a heavy cloak. Lhara could only wait, holding Jath as he held her, listening to every beat of their hearts, hearing every one of their breaths. Then, in a voice nearly inaudible with sorrow, Jath whispered;

"Alright. For her. For you." 

OoOoO