The room was fairly dark, but Judson could clearly see Astraline's gaze. She had worn the same stunned expression since they left the court.

As a matter of fact, everyone did, excluding HalfHyde and Luanda. Given his new position, the Half-Elf had gone to the estate to discuss his duties and had surprisingly beckoned on Judson, whose scalp had prickled with embarrassment from the numerous curious stares he received when he tailed the royal parade. It was for this reason he brought Astraline along.

For the past few minutes, HalfHyde, Luanda, and a few of the King's advisors he did not know were present, had confined themselves to an inner chamber, leaving him with an oogling She-Elf.

At last, he heaved a sigh. "You may ask whatever you wish, Astraline."

Immediately, she opened her mouth, only for it to shut again in confusion. She battled visibly for minutes before calming.

"Is it really true?" Her frown was worried. "All of it?"

He nodded. "It is."

She whistled a sigh of relief. "I always suspected something was different about her. Her confidence and bravery was inhuman." Her face turned sad. "I feel guilty now, and I do not know if it is solely because I contributed to sending her off on a dangerous journey from which she didn't return, or that I didn't hug her goodbye, or both."

Judson smiled in encouragement. He understood the She-Elf's conflict. "Do not do that to yourself. Your efforts saved our lives, Astraline, and I am forever grateful."

With a nod, she managed a smile, but it fell soon. "What do you aim to do now?"

Intertwining his fingers, he leaned forward, appreciative of the cushion inside his seat. "Well, I intend to first hear from," He gestured to the direction of the inner chamber. "And then, I will decide."

"I am glad that Her Highness is willing to help." Astraline smiled. "It might not seem so yet, but more help will come your way in the future. Waverly's deeds has bought her more than enough. Good character always earns a lifesaving profit."

Soon enough, Judson was summoned into the inner chamber. He stood amidst tall, lordly men, staring meekly at them as they assessed him.

"You are certain he no longer hosts the Elemental, your ladyship?" An advisor asked Luanda.

She came forward and placed a hand on Judson's shoulder. "His quest to redeem himself was successful. He is free for eternity."

"Where on earth did you find the means to cleanse yourself of a chaotic godhead, young Shade?" Another inquired.

"The Mountain of Lore." HalfHyde gave the answer instead. The men's eyes widened all at once. "Long and perilous a journey it was and many things did they witness during that time, but it be only by the hand of fate their survival was sealed. Records of it all have I taken as it be that such occurrence never afore in history happened. The young Shade and my daughter have attained a height men may only dream of. . ."

His tone became downcast. "At the cost of my child's life."

"The young girl is dead then." The first advisor offered. There were six of them, but only two spoke frequently.

"No." Judson shook his head. He despised hearing people make that assumption, yet he could not blame them for making it. Even he was not certain of Waverly's fate.

He proceeded to tell them all he could remember about the ugly incident and was shocked by the silence that gripped the room. Never had he experienced such a level of attentiveness. It did make him relax - the fact that he was being heard - that he could make people listen. After his conclusion, the group stared at one another and seemed to be thinking deeply.

The bearded advisor at the rear came forward slowly. "My boy, this is the most overwhelming, most fascinating tale any one of us here ever bore witness to. We rue for the Lord Scrivener's daughter and for himself, and you as well, and for all who will someday hear this sorrowful tale. The Chasma - as you call it - I believe, is what Humans mythicized ages ago as Draughtsman's Trigon. It is a center of mystery that no man has ever set eyes on. No one knows how it came to be nor have knowledge of what it truly is, but stories have raged since the beginning of man that this Trigon sucks whatever passes by into itself."

"Many believe it to be a beast." Another advisor inputted. "I, personally, did not think it exists, until. . . well. . ."

"Do you know how I can find out more about the Draughtsman's Trigon?" Judson asked. His gaze moved to HalfHyde, who was bent over the long desk, poring over an insane pile of scrolls.

It was Luanda's turn to speak. "I'm afraid there is no written information anywhere that concerns it. Since it is something no being ever saw, it was forgotten for good."

Judson's hopes shattered like glass. He fought to keep himself standing upright because the room had started to spin.

"Regardless," Luanda went on. Her stare was encouraging. "We will not stop until Waverly is found. I will have the King's heralds spread word to every town in this realm and beyond about what has happened to her. Wherever you may go from here, I pray help finds you easily. I know without a doubt that she has allies and friends. They will help in the search."

She came forward and touched his shoulder again, squeezing it gently. "You won't do this alone."

A great sense of ease washed over and calmed him. It was uplifting to recognize that some of his burden had been lifted. Support was greater than fear now, and he believed that even if he did not find Waverly during the search, someone would.

When night fell, it rained, but the moon stood out big and bright in the sky. Judson peeked at it from his window, suddenly remembering Selene. She definitely had to know about her daughter, but of course, she would remain silent - like the rest of them. He spun to face the room. It was rilling with flowers. Some had grown without his knowledge and others in his sleep. It was as if his presence urged more growths.

Earlier, Astraline had pestered him to grow a cactus - a plant he truly despised - after she cunningly sapped the information out of him. It was a part of her strategic plan to tag along in his quest to find Waverly. The conditions were to either grow one or let her go with him. He begrudgingly complied with the former much to his and Astraline's displeasure. He knew that she genuinely wanted to help. However, should something terrible happen to her, he would never forgive himself, and neither would Alasdair.

The doorknob turned and Resli walked into the room. It was her arrival he had been awaiting.

"Excuse my belatedness, young Shade," She panted. "I was cornered by Celeah Coutts. She's not happy about her husband losing to his opponent and wants me to stop working for the Lord Scrivener. By Opal, that woman truly thinks something of herself. Here, I have something for you."

She held out a piece of soft cloth that resembled a parchment, but was simply wool. When Judson flipped it over, it was blank. He glanced up.

Resli knowingly held up a hand. "Wishweaver's Wool is always blank. It was created that way."

"What is it?" He inspected the limp item. It was a dull brown all over and plain, but with tiny holes forming on one side. It looked to have been poked over and over. Any more would have successfully turned it into a sponge.

"A map." Resli explained. "It does not unravel until you have reached Hammiton. Only under harvest moonlight. It will lead you to an old friend of mine. Her name is Pyralia Emberel. She is quite famous and a difficult woman, but when you can steal her attention, address her by the name Iléan."

"Iléan? Is that not Elvish?"

She nodded. "Pyralia is Half-Elf, but those who know that are the few she trusts. I am amongst them and you will be too once you say her Elvish name. Tell her I sent you and ask her whatever you wish to know about The Chasma."

Judson stared at the Wishweaver's Wool, a thousand thoughts crossing his mind. He could not afford to lose it.

"I am very grateful for your help, Resli."

She waved a shooing hand and reached into her apron. "I have something else for you. Came from the Princess herself."

He received the scroll. It was brand new, held fast by a slim ribbon of purple. He instantly knew it was a seal of permission to cross the bridge of Bridge.

"And before you leave," She went on. "The Lord Scrivener has asked to speak with you shortly."

HalfHyde's room felt cold and when Judson stepped in, he saw that it was because the windows were left wide open, permitting bits of rain to soak the sill. Also, a lot of things were gone inside. Just like him, the Half-Elf would leave The Grand Ale for good, but his destination was back home to Lake Borough - to serve in King Asherah's court. The idea almost made Judson teary-eyed. He would give anything to go back again.

HalfHyde stood at the very end of his room, neatly stuffing books and scrolls into a Grogana. He spun and beckoned by lifting his eyebrows.

"Hither!"

Judson drew closer and his eyes fell on a piece of folded brown cloth atop the table. At first, he disregarded it until HalfHyde picked and unfolded the material.

Waverly's hunting cloak.

"It be safer in your care." HalfHyde said, handing it over. He picked up a small book and did likewise. "I advise that ye never loses both."

Judson received the items with a sort of solemnity even though he did not know yet what was in the book. From simply seeing the hunting cloak again, he felt a rush of emotions, the more overpowering one being love. He held the material close to his chest. Initially, he believed Calaire to be the last item that connected him to Waverly, but was glad it no longer was. He remembered the story behind the cloak and how she had come to own it. It acted as a relic, but of the memory of loved ones. And now, of her too.

"Silverfist provided ye a clue?"

He nodded. "Yes."

HalfHyde hummed and reached over the side of the bag to retrieve a satchel. "The journey ye uptakes from now, an easy one it will not prove. Ye may be tested; will, worth, strength, patience and all, but remember the reason ye began. I will not charge ye to sacrifice your neck to return Waverly to me. Do what ye must, but keep safe as ye does. The life of ye be more important than any else because ye must live before ye battles."

Judson studied HalfHyde's face closely. Ever since he was a child, the Half-Elf's face had stayed the same. At different stages, he had feared, disliked, ignored, and even loathed it, but now, he was doubly sure he respected it. As a matter of fact, he would miss it. HalfHyde was a vital part of his earliest memories; memories he would never lose.

"Travel light." The Half-Elf advised, handing over the satchel. "Travel safe. Find her."

"I promise." Judson said.

Placing a hand on his chest, HalfHyde gently threw out a fist then returned to his business.

Judson left the room, his innards filling up with sadness again. He returned to Resli to say farewell, then packed up every essential into the satchel.

The pouring rain subdued the moment he stepped outside, making him feel queer. The feeling was unmistakably similar to the one he got whenever a new ability manifested. Albeit, he ignored and carried on.

In front of the watch house, he found Arad and Méandiel conversing over a bowl of cut fruits. Even before he heard their conversation, a little smile sprang on his face.

"I am simply stating, Méandiel, that I think it was all rushed." Arad voiced with his cheeks stuffed on one side.

"How else would you have prefered it then? It was a royal decision and nothing more." Méandiel offered honestly, both hands pressed ontop of his dagger hilt which was pinned to the railing. "Reputation precedes men and a good one is bound to bring goodness to he who builds it."

"And is that reason enough to take away what a man has worked so long for and hand it over to another? I am advocating fairness here, Méandiel. I respect the Lord Scrivener very much, but I feel pity for Lord Coutts."

"It matters little what pity you have for whomever. What is done is done!" The Snow Elf stated, standing upright. "Now, you have eaten a large quarter of pineapples. The grapes are mine."

Arad picked up the bowl and moved it away from reach. "That wasn't the agreement. You said I could have it all because you didn't "feel like fruits today"."

"I have a right to change my mind, Arad. Hand it over." Méandiel calmly gestured toward the dish bowl.

"No. I also have the right to remind you that an agreement is solid and unbreakable."

"Says who, Arad?"

"Says the law. Now, shoo!" Arad fluidly jumped over the railing and took several steps backward.

"I will not chase you for a simple bow. . ." At that moment, Méandiel noticed Judson, who stood perfectly still, watching the spectacle.

"Oh, hello, young Shade!" Arad greeted and came over to shake hands, shielding his fruit bowl under his free arm. "Méandiel here told me everything. My deepest condolences, and thank the gods for your life! But what on earth were you thinking running off to the North without adult supervision? It's the Elves who take up such rash adventure because they don't mind losing their heads."

Méandiel laughed at that.

"Where are you off to now? To lose your head?"

"No. I am going off in search for Waverly."

Arad briefly turned to Méandiel. "That's the girl, isn't it? Oh, bless you, young Shade. I thought there was something special about you two when you first showed up here. For one moment I don't regret opening our doors for you."

"I opened the doors, Arad!" The Snow Elf corrected with a chuckle.

"And who remembers that now, eh?" The guard turned to Judson again, his face morphing back into a sympathetic one. "While you're gone, we'll do a big search in these parts, the lassie might pass by this way again, who knows?!"

"That would be of the most wonderful help, Arad." Judson smiled. "Thank you."

With a beam, Arad wheeled to face Méandiel again. "See? Someone appreciates my efforts."

Méandiel made to walk away from the balcony when the door opened behind him, ushering Astraline out. Together, they climbed down the steps.

"Good evening, Arad." She greeted.

"Aériel. Where is Maiasar?"

"Waiting for you inside. You promised him a game of arm wrestling."

Arad appeared alarmed for a split second before recollecting himself. "Ah, thank you for that reminder, and I hope neither you nor your father takes offense if your brother's arm gets broken. Mistakes do happen."

He chuckled with glee before disappearing into the watch house.

Astraline's accusing gaze found Judson.

"I asked to come along and you refused." She stated, crossing both arms over her chest. "So, here's how you compensate for that; find her, or I'll plant cacti in your hair."

He stifled a laugh, nodding dutifully. "You have my word."

Méandiel came forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. After a while of struggling with words, he spoke. "Don't die."

"I will try not to."

With a final salute, Judson bounded away from the Grand Ale.

When the night darkened during his trek, he halted all of a sudden, struck by a painful reality - he did not know the way. Before panic could rise, he calmed himself with a brilliant idea.

Bergor.

The sailor had a prized collection of maps that could help him. If he made it back to DaringFox and was lucky enough, he could convince Bergor to borrow him a map. Without further ado, he rose into the clouds and shot across the night sky.

Flying was the most liberating thing even though sometimes it frightened him. After getting touched in the North by that powerful being he could only vaguely recall, his body had become infused with something of a godly strength that often surged forth of its own accord. It was as though a whole different being lived inside of him; one that was constantly forcing its way out, fighting to unravel. It was a powerful essence and it mixed into his half godly side, fusing to create something undeniably mighty. Judson feared that such a force inside him, if held back for too long, would turn destructive. As much as he knew it was power - raw power - he wanted to speak to someone about it. To ask for guidance on how to use it.

Almost impulsively, his thoughts veered to Waverly and he descended from the clouds. She would have understood better than anyone else. She would have taught him and showed him what to do. He often saw how easily she executed her own powers and he doubted she was ever even taught to use them.

The weather progressively grew icy cold, but he did not mind. His new coat kept him warm as toast. Now, he wore slim boots like Méandiel because Astraline had convinced him that such shoes never wore out. They were crafted from Elvish tender; a rare material that lasted years and years without going bad. It was the same thing their clothing and armor were crafted from. Nobody could purchase Elvish tender because it was only to be given generously by the Elves themselves.

For a while, Judson's feet seemed to inadvertently know where they were taking him. He cut across roads, lingered amongst a field of daffodils after checking to make certain they grew healthy, lounged near a creek bed to admire some lily of the valley and waved hello to a few nature spirits before continuing on his way.

Surprisingly, DaringFox drew into sight quicker than he expected. It was surrounded by hills and fields, thus making for a soothing view. The village had woken up early and a lot of trade was already taking place. The old streets contained a crowd of chattering folk, who moved about, heaving and lifting baskets or containers; and noise gradually grew until one had to shout if he wanted to be heard. He scaled around the main entrance to keep away from the crowd, but kept his eyes peeled. It was unlikely to spot Bergor in such a crowd, yet he tried his luck.

From being too engrossed in staring, Judson found himself sailing backward in a hard fall because someone had suddenly collided with him. He winced and rose, clutching his hurting gut, and was about to rebuke whoever had knocked him down when he looked into the tearstained face of a young woman.

She seemed to be in a state of haste and intense panic, and from the way she fidgeted, fear. She glanced over her shoulder then back at him.

"Please, help me!" Her voice was unbelievably hoarse from crying and the desperation in it could have grown claws to rake upon whomever she spoke to.

He felt instant pity even without knowing what the problem was and soon forgot about the pain in his gut.

"Are you alright?" He frowned.

The woman came forward and cautiously clutched the rim of his coat, her fingers trembling and more tears spilling from her eyes.

"Please, he's going to hurt me again. Please, help! Help me!" She wailed, occasionally turning with a flinch as if she could sense her pursuer.

Judson lifted his eyebrows and stared ahead, but nobody was behind her. "Who?"

"My husband. He's going to hurt me."

From her looks, Judson guessed she was a Human in her mid-twenties, but there was so much strain on her face that he recognized to have come from prolonged pain; pain that seemed to age her a few years more. For a moment after her response, he was dumbstruck. In all his life, he had never heard such ignoble behavior of a husband hurting his wife. In fact, it was bafflingly awful to his ears and he tried to understand why any man would do that.

"Your husband?" He asked to make certain he heard correct. The woman nodded vigorously, her ponytail bopping up and down. "Why would your husband hurt you? Is he not meant to protect you instead of-"

"Please!" She wailed again and grabbed his coat with both hands, almost falling to her knees. "If he finds me, he'll take me away and beat me up."

"What?" His eyes widened.

Just then, the crowd on one side fell into a kind of ruckus, as if people were roughly making their way through. A group of men emerged and halted, peering about in search, then one pointed at the woman.

"There she is!"

Altogether, they advanced.

The young woman squealed and went to stand far behind Judson. The latter moved out of the way because he was still struck by dense curiosity and a desire to confirm the unrealistic idea of a wife beater. Soon, the men had surrounded the lady, who sank to her knees, crying and clasping her hands together and muttering pleas.

A different man, presumably the husband, came forward.

"So, Gazania, you've grown the nerve to escape me." He taunted with a growl.

Judson remained rooted to the spot, stunned by the fact that no single person in the market crowd - despite noticing the situation - made an effort to intervene. They only walked on in ignorance with their noses in the air. It was offensive and annoying to him. A sudden strike against flesh startled and made him turn. He realized, from her hand on her face and intensified sobs, that Gazania had been slapped by her husband.

"You will return home at once, or today will be your last on this earth." The man scowled. He looked to his thugs. "Bring her."

"I don't want to, please." Gazania pleaded in between heavy sobs. Any more tears and Judson feared her eyes would fall off.

Regardless, the men closed in on her and grabbed her everywhere. When she bravely struggled against them, they released her.

"Master, she won't stop resisting." One of the thugs reported.

The husband growled in anger and picked up a random farm tool from within a wheelbarrow by his side. Judson's eyes widened the more as the man marched forward, lifting the tool.

With darting eyes, he spotted a row of ground cover plants by the wooden fence that divided the market from the sidewalk - the stage for the present scenario.

It happened faster than thought.

The man's arm reared, but it never came down. Stems lashed tightly around his hand until he winced aloud and dropped the tool.

Then, Judson walked to stand beside him, staring into his face. "Of course! You have not an ounce of shame."

"Who's this half shilling?" The husband asked, anger showing visibly on his taut face.

Judson ignored him and looked at Gazania. A red mark had appeared on her fair face. "Go now."

But she did not move. Or, at least, she could not.

"Who's given you the right to interfere, you bastard?" The man asked again, trembling with rage as he made to attack, but the spindly stalks tightened and he groaned in pain. "Get these things off me, creep!"

"If you do not let her go free," Judson calmly warned. "Then you are at a high risk of losing your hand."

The man obviously grew impatient. He looked to his thugs. "Clear off this piece of weed."

Judson heaved a sigh. He truly did not want to harm anyone, but people gave him no choice sometimes. As the men approached, he levitated a few feet and came down in a spin, whacking three at once with his wings. They sailed and bashed roughly into a wall, falling unconscious at once. The other two inched closer with caution and fists balled. He held out a fist too. At first, the ground noisily cracked at their feet, then it rose with a forceful bump that propelled them into the air, leaving frightened screams in their wake.

That bit drew attention fast.

"Sorcerer!" Gazania's husband yelled, pointing, but was roughly yanked by the stalks to collide into a fence.

Judson went to Gazania and gently helped her up. "Come with me."

By then, the townspeople had fallen into a riot, running toward the pair. With a lot of uncertainty and Gazania in tow, they darted down the path. They maneuvered through the market square, avoiding whoever made a grab for them.

"No, no. This way." Gazania guided because she knew the village more, and soon, Judson found himself following her instead.

It was not his intention to make enemies so soon, but he could not have stood by and allowed an innocent woman fall victim.

Eventually, the pursuers were lost. The village receded and he found himself in a scanty outskirt.

"I come here often." Gazania revealed after long moments of silence, fiddling with the short ropes in her rumpled skirt. "Laerdan does not find me."

Judson scrutinized the environment. It was simply big bushes, abandoned structures and clusters of houses with very few people. A broad road facing the North was all that seemed interesting out of everything. When he turned, he saw that Gazania sat nearest the wall of an old stone house, wiping her eyes frequently. He strolled toward her and knelt, studying her face. Upon closer look, he realized that it was covered in old bruises and black scars, indicating that it was probably not the first time Laerdan manhandled her.

"Are you. . . Do you need anything?"

She shook her head, coaxing more tears from her eyes. "You're very kind. Thank you for what you did back there. If you hadn't interfered. . ."

Her head lowered and she sniffled repeatedly.

Judson was at a loss for words as he watched her cry. Perhaps, had managed to save her, but only meanwhile. At the end of the day, she would only return to Laerdan because they were married. It angered him that there was not much he could about that bit. She would continue to suffer at the hands of a man, who possibly made every proclamation of love in the world just to win her over at the beginning.

"Is there anything else I can do?" He asked again.

Gazania glanced up and sniffled once. Her sad eyes were soft and brown like cotton sugar. "I don't think so. Laerdan will find me eventually. I only hope that his anger fades before then. You may continue on your way. I'm sorry to have kept you from your business."

"I can not leave you like that. He will harm you again if you go back there. Is there no place where you will be safe?"

She seemed to ponder for a few moments. "My mother's village. Havenshadow, a district in the northwest, forty leagues from here. But I could never make the trip."

"Why not?" He wondered. For an alarming second, he totally forgot the reason he had come to DaringFox.

"Laerdan works under the Lord of Whitich. He has charge of all the horses used in DaringFox that are leased for rent. Private horse owners rarely let folk use theirs unless you pay a huge fee. I couldn't rent a horse without my husband hearing of it."

Judson pondered on the matter. He remembered Kestkaal Kazan alright, the pudgy man from the Sanguine Gopher. He recalled the conversation about horses as well even though he had not quite understood the whole matter, but it seemed that obtaining a horse would prove difficult. Regardless, he needed a way to smuggle Gazania out of the village.

"Alright." He sighed. "Is there a different place you can go that Laerdan will not find you? At least, for the meantime."

"His sister in-law." Gazania pointed at the adjacent road. "She lives a few walks from there."

"Go to her right now."

"What will you do?" She asked whilst being helped to her feet.

"Find some way to get you to Havenshadow. Go on now. I will meet you at your in-law's house."

"Thank you." She said, appearing relieved. "You did not tell me your name."

"Judson."

She smiled widely, revealing dimples. "Pleasure to meet you, Judson. I'm Gazania."

With that, she whipped about and started down the road.

Judson waited until she rounded a corner before taking his own leave. First, he secured his belongings within the bushes to keep them safe then returned to the village, fully aware that he was no longer a simple stranger. With Laerdan's influence, the whole village was possibly on the lookout for him, but he gave no care for that. As a matter of fact, he was not scared of them.

DaringFox was still busy when he arrived the market, and so it took a while before he was spotted by one of Laerdan's goons.

"There's the Shade!" The man announced, pointing.

Judson waited for them to crowd him, but when they did, none made any attempts to come close. He quickly took it as an advantage.

"I need to speak with Laerdan."

A thug scoffed. "And what makes you think, little boy, that after what you've done he won't split your head from your skull?"

"He will not. Not when I can report certain funny dealings to Lord Kestkaal."

Another thug intimidatingly twirled a stick in his hand. "What's the harlot told you about our master's business?"

"Nothing." Judson shrugged. "I just happen to know Kestkaal personally. He and I lodged at the Sanguine Gopher some days back. Told me all about those sixteen Gypsie horses that I hope your master knows nothing about."

The men lost their stances and straightened at once after sharing worried glances.

"I am sure that the last thing your master wants is to be taken to Esvele for a trial. Kestkaal did say something about having all the local markets closed."

That seemed to do the trick.

The men shared a few more glances before one growled and came forward. "You keep your mouth shut and we won't pluck those feathers off you like a damn chicken."

Judson shrugged again. "I cannot guarantee that I will unless you arrange an audience with Laerdan."

"What's someone like you got to say to the master? His affairs are none of your business."

"Take me to him first."

A few took flank while two led the way. The ground was wet and covered in mud as a result of heavy rainfall, but Judson's boots did not sink. He secretly willed the earth to solidify under his feet. It was an oddly fulfilling thing to watch the men struggle with their own footsteps while he strolled easy.

At last, they arrived a house. The first man knocked on the door and it flung open. He went in alone and tarried for a few minutes before emerging again.

"Bring the Shade, but he better show some respect in here."

Judson concealed a smirk as he ventured into the house. It was spacious and full of old things, mostly furniture, and he gathered it was because Laerdan hosted a lot of illegal meetings. After a quick evaluation of the room, he opted to stand nearest a very tiny growing plant inside a pot.

Laerdan came out a few minutes later.

"The weed makes himself known by making empty threats." His chuckle was mirthless as he came up to tower over Judson. "I could kill you right here and right now."

"You could, but you will not." Judson calmly countered. His eyes roamed, then came back to Laerdan's. "Because you are at a greater disadvantage and you realize it."

Laerdan fell into fits of mocking sniggers. "Why? Because of that flummoxing warlockery of yours?" His deep voice deepened even more. "I have dealt with greater wizards, boy."

"Who said I was a wizard?" tsked Judson. "I simply come to ask one simple request."

The man chuckled once. "No. I will not grant any requests of yours, stranger, because I don't know who you are and you have no rights here."

A cloud of panic began to rise in his head, but Judson kept composure. He had seen Waverly tackle such situations numberless times. He needed to rein the circumstances in his own favor.

"Is Kestkaal aware that you double-cross him?" He taunted, squinting.

Albeit not knowing much about anything, the fleeting look of surprise on Laerdan's face confirmed that he was indeed a dishonest man. From putting two and two together, Judson concluded that the so-called con man who bought off Kestkaal's horses cheap was directly connected to Laerdan, if not he himself.

How else would he have absolute control over leased horses in the village and easily skip Kestkaal's suspicion?

Laerdan's nose wrinkled in scorn, but he said nothing.

"If you cannot quit immodesty in your businesses, then at least quit it in your home, Laerdan." Judson heaved a sigh. "I am not here to make an enemy of you. I came to plead on Gazania's behalf. Yes, I am a stranger, but even I can see that she has done you no wrong."

Gradually, Laerdan's anger crumbled.

"Be good to her. She deserves to be happy. If you will not do that, then let her go."

A cruel smile creeped into Laerdan's features that made him look evil.

"Is that it then, little boy?" He taunted in a low tone. "Is that your request? What do you know about marriage, or women for that matter? I own horses, I own workers, and I own Gazania. All are meant to do my bidding and if they fail to, they get punished. Go ask your new friend if she has been loyal to me, or if she deserves to be treated like a wife. She disrespects me and makes a fool out of me. She steals from me and spreads gossip about me. Is that the kind of woman you believe should be treated well?"

Judson pondered Laerdan's words. He truly did not know anything about the strangers, but he could not deny the strong feeling that he had been drawn to help Gazania for a reason.

"Be that as it may, she is still your wife. Withhold your hand and use your words. Be gentle and you will find that she listens."

"What's your business in DaringFox anyway?" The man wondered.

"I came in search of Bergor Oxborn."

"That ocean loving rat." The man sneered. "Say, you seem to be sticking your hands in the wrong places, boy. Oxborn is as much bad news as Kestkaal. Someone who preaches uprightness like you should have nothing to do with men like them, or me."

"I have nothing to do with any of you." Judson put out and subconsciously walked away from the plant. "Remember, I simply came to ask you to be kinder to Gazania."

"That harlot doesn't deserve my kindness, boy. You don't know her so don't plead on her behalf." Now, Laerdan's tone was void of anger and had become conversational.

"Will you give her a horse so that she finds her way then?"

Laerdan wore a grimace that showed he was frustrated. "No, Shade. She goes nowhere. Whenever she's done crying her eyes out at Avalora's home, she can return to hers. We have unfinished business. She's going to pay for what you did to me and my men today."

For the first time, Judson noticed that Laerdan and all his men sported bruises.

He fidgeted. "Why not punish me since I am already here? You claimed to have dealt with greater wizards before."

"You said you are no wizard. What are you? A Dakritonian High Priest?" Laerdan frowned, scrutinizing Judson from head to foot.

"What I am is more complicated than that, but if your final resolve is to retain your cruelty toward Gazania, then I have withdrawn my compromise."

"Do nothing stupid, boy." A thug warned.

"Master," Another cautioned, fidgeting uncomfortably. "He knows about the Gypsie horses. We can't let him leave, otherwise he'll go to Kestkaal and out us."

Laerdan studied Judson some more, his face clouding with deprecation. "He won't."

"He will." The latter corrected. "In fact, he is about to."

The hairs on the back of Judson's neck rose altogether, alerting him to the presence of something sharp. He moved too slowly and sustained a biting cut just below his left elbow from a knife being swung.

"Kill him." Laerdan ordered, and walked out of the room.

The men were fast and closed in all at once. Heavy iron swung through the air and connected with Judson's face. Pain shot fast and almost rendered him unconscious, but he blinked the dimness out of his eyes, feeling his temple, where blood had begun to gush out. The inside of his mouth filled with liquid when a hard punch nearly shattered his ribs. He spat out blood, disoriented on what to do. He was no combatant, but was well aware that if he let himself get beaten any longer, he would be killed.

He was shoved and thrown here and there, crashing into things and breaking them.

Eventually, one of the thugs pinned him to the wall right next to the plant. He felt it before he saw it. The clay pot suddenly rattled and broke to pieces, spilling earth on the chest atop which it laid. Judson reached out a hand and evened out the soil before he was yanked and flung to the floor again. The attacker tossed his weapon across both hands, twirled and lifted it to deal the killing blow, but a violent shaking seized his attention.

"Gadsbud!" A thug exclaimed in awe.

The plant was a climbing one and it spread across the walls, growing with incomprehensible speed.

"What's he doing?"

The doors and windows sealed shut as they were covered by thick, multiplying foliage until every beam of light was snuffed out and the house was plunged into darkness. Judson rose to his feet, wobbly and seething with pain. Inside the complete darkness, he could see his assailants as clear as day.

"Where's he gone?" One panted. "Find him."

He watched as they ridiculously staggered about, bumping into each other in panic. He was not very certain how he knew to do such a thing, but he held a finger toward the roof and made a falling gesture. Hissing noises instantly filled the room.

"Do you hear that?"

"The wizard's turned himself into a bloody snake." A shaky voice revealed. "I hate snakes."

"Something's fallen on my head!"

"Mine too!"

A harmony of terrified screams filled the atmosphere as the men discovered they all had snakes coiled on their heads.

"Get it off! Get it off!"

Judson was tremendously exhausted, torn between wanting to stay and watch, and returning to Gazania. He touched the wall behind and it undulated, turning membranous and green. Deep within himself, he knew it was not his first time creating such a magical passage although he could not remember having done it before.

Dragging heavy feet forward to pass through the thin wall, he stepped out into a roadside before making a direct procession for Avalora's home.