The large duvet lay spread out on the Snuggery floor, with several children burrowing around between warmlings and various pairs of legs. Little Quena slid out at one end and climbed onto Enim's lap, reaching up to crumple the letter he was waving around in his hand.

"Our messages must have crossed on the way. Torly has written this answer before she could even have received my question." Enim let go of the sheets, and Quena happily gave them her full attention.

Enim went on gesturing empty-handedly. "Torly had indeed forgotten about making sure that all people will be included in the Choosing. However, as soon as she remembered, she went to ask at the palace. And we are lucky!"

Quena had finished crumpling and moved on to smoothing pages out on the floor, which unfortunately resulted in a torn edge or two.

"Just imagine!" Enim beamed. "If anyone had been attending the Canopy gathering with no other aim than to help us here, they could not have done any better." Enim shook his head. "It is amazing how sometimes aid comes from the places you least expect."

"What Canopy?"

"Well, the Canopy." Enim looked at Cahuan and raised his hand in an uncertain gesture. "The union Yurvania has with the countries upriver. They make rules to encourage trading, travel, friendship, such things. And every once in a while, delegates from all countries meet in huge colorful tents on a meadow to discuss it all."

Cahuan gave Enim a skeptical look. "Anyway," he continued hastily, "at the latest of these gatherings, they have decided this!" He tapped Torly's letter on the floor triumphantly. "Just what we needed!"

Quena tapped the letter too, just as triumphantly. Enim gave her an encouraging nod. "There will be a folkcount! In all countries of the Canopy. And in every small region, every last corner. Including the Mountains. Including Shebbetin." He pulled up one knee and caused a draft of cold air to sweep in underneath their shared blanket. "Scribes will come and make a proper list of everyone who lives in Shebbetin. Not just the owners. Now just the usual few. It will encompass everyone."

Enim drew the blanket back down while gesturing with his other hand. "And once the scribes report to Varoonya that there are so many people here, they will also relate that the Choosing needs to happen in Shebbetin itself."

He leaned back against the wall, fully satisfied. "So all is well. All taken care of."

* * *

Kaya held Torly's torn and crumpled letter in her hand. She could not read it, of course, since it was in Kokish. But she could wave it at Enim with a vengeance.

"This is the key." Kaya's voice was intent. "If it is as Torly says, then the folkcount is a pivotal point. A delicate joint in a powerful machine. Everything hinges upon it."

Deep furrows lined Kaya's brow. "If the folkcount goes well, then the Choosing will happen. In Shebbetin, and with the whole population." Her muscles tensed. "However, if anything should go wrong with the folkcount, anything at all," Kaya's eyes narrowed, "then Naydeer would be a great deal happier."

Enim's throat felt suddenly dry. He squirmed, casting a questioning look over at Lhut. But Lhut's eyes were dark, somber.

Kaya leaned forward, arms crossed tightly before her chest. Her voice had come down to a scathing hiss. "We will not wait for Naydeer's ruses. This time, we will move first. Before she even dreams of it. The folkcount must happen. And we will make sure of it. Now!"

* * *

The first snow of the year had begun to fall at night, but when Enim set out in the small hours of morning, only a cold wind met his face. Enim's horse followed the narrow mountain trail, guided by instinct more than by the weak, mellow gleam of a magical lantern.

Slowly and hesitantly, dawn began to touch the vast highland sky, turning it from pitch black to midnight blue. Then to pale azure, with a hazy mist, a frozen breath shimmering in its midst. The winds relented. And finally, the sun came up over the crest.

All of a sudden, Enim was riding out into a blinding radiance, an endless field of glittering crystals. The mountains gleamed an unbearable white and all the land was bathed in gold, with ethereal glitter drifting over the snow like fairy dust.

A miracle had broken loose. The light of the heavens had come over the earth. Enim took a deep breath and howled his jubilation into the sky. Even while the frost bit his skin and the dazzling sun hurt his eyes. But with a firework of brightness and beauty exploding out all around him, Enim could not feel anything other than elation.

This was an omen.

His quest would be successful.

*

At the inn in Hebenir, Enim was the last one to rise in the morning. And the first one to be grateful for the much warmer climate of the lowlands, and the brevity and ease of the ride on to Behrlem. Beautiful as the snowy highlands might be, they were still cold, and the journey long.

But here, down among the soft rolling hills, things were different. Gentle, welcoming, of a human scale. Behrlem too felt cozy and homey, with a small-town charm. The county house sat on the central square, timber-framed, solid, with a broad porch under a wide, tilting roof.

Enim knocked on the door.

An elderly woman with dark skin and a big round body greeted him from behind her desk. Nenimoria, she introduced herself in a warm, sonorous voice, offering Enim a seat and a cup of tea. Enim gratefully accepted.

"I have come to inquire about the folkcount," he finally came around to the purpose of his visit. "About the procedure, for Shebbetin in particular."

Nenimoria looked at Enim. "Shebbetin," she said in a bemused tone of voice, patting the white curls on her head.

"Yes," Enim affirmed. "Shebbetin. In the mountains. It is part of the Behrlem region, I understand. So I assume the folkcount will be organized here, in the county house of Behrlem?"

"Yes. Yes, it will be," Nenimoria replied hastily, seeing the troubled look on Enim's face. "Don't you worry about it. We'll take care of it. We'll do the folkcount, even in the mountains. Ojorsven will be going up there, specifically. All the long way."

Enim's face brightened up. "Oh, wonderful. Do you think I could speak to Ojorsven, then?"

"Sorry, dear, but Ojorsven is in Toan. Has to travel a lot on duty, poor Ojorsven has. But Toan is all right, he says. He quite likes it as a town, you see? And he'll be back in a couple of days. But you can talk to me in the meantime. It will be just as well," she nodded at him encouragingly.

Enim considered. And then he explained about Shebbetin, and how people there had never been included in the Choosing and had no access to healers either, and no learning pavilions for the children, and not even a pouch collection point. And anyhow, how the folkcount was key to all of that, and how they really needed to make sure to get it right and have everybody accounted for.

Nenimoria listened to Enim with a growing look of concern on her face. In the end, she assured him that everything would be just fine, all neat and proper. They would come up to the mountains, in person, and do the folkcount there, right in the place itself. All the people will be taken care of. They will not forget anyone. Ojorsven will be going around to every single house. He even had a special traption from Varoonya, a receptacle, just for that. So Enim need not worry. They had it all in hand.

Enim let out a sigh of relief. He thanked Nenimoria profusely, and she reassured him once more that all would be well. She even accompanied him to the door when he left.

Nenimoria watched Enim walk away across the plaza.

She ached for him in her heart. 'Poor boy,' she thought. 'It is so hard to be young. And so far from home too. No wonder he is confused and worried. And does not know what to do, or how to make sense of things. But,' she consoled herself, 'he will come around, given time. He will figure out how things work, and he will find his place in the world. Even if he has to live up there in the mountains. He is a strong young lad, and he has a good heart. He will manage. He will get his feet on the ground, after a while, and be well.'

Nenimoria nodded to herself. A trace of concern still lingered within her, but her general good humor was already getting the upper hand again. As she went back inside to make herself another cup of tea, she began to hum along with the song of the steaming kettle.