"Wake up, Konrad; we’re here," said Rolo, shaking him gently. "Welcome to the north."

Konrad scrambled up and threw on his pack, strapping his sword to his belt. On the deck of Elena, he joined the others at the front of the ship and gazed out on the northern city of Montdun, which sat on an endless expanse of white landscape that stretched unblemished to the far mountains.

"It’s so big," he whispered.

"The north is without end, or at least no one has traveled all of it," Rolo said.

The city of Montdun itself was built in a way that Konrad had never seen before. Every building, no matter how big or small, was built in the shape of a triangle, with the roofs extending all the way to the ground.

"You live in tents?" he said disbelievingly.

Rolo chuckled. "No, when we’re closer, you’ll see they're made of stone and wood. But they’re shaped like this because of the snow." He scraped some white powder from the railing of the ship. "You think it’s light, but if you have as much as we do, it can easily crush a house."

The great ropes that held the anchor had long since turned to dust, and so Briarstone expertly steered them to the quayside using only the ocean current.

"I told you I would get us here safely," Renau proclaimed, resting one foot on the rail as the ship lightly bumped against the stone. "Show me another captain who can do that without a sail."

Briarstone muttered something unintelligible and deftly caught the ropes that were tossed up from the dockside to secure the boat.

Elena was far from the only vessel that was stopping at Mondun. As Konrad and his companions stepped off the boat, orders were being shouted, arguments ensued, and frustration led to violence on several occasions.

"Try to find us some stout sailors to crew the ship; I can’t sail us everywhere," Renau called back to Briarstone as they set off into the city. "And some sails and rope might be a good idea," he added.

Briarstone’s reply was a rude gesture that Renau either didn’t see or chose not to.

"Where are we going?" Serena asked Rolo.

The young northman’s brow was furrowed, and he looked around constantly, his hand resting on the head of his axe. "I can show you some reliable lodgings, then I have a family matter to attend to," he replied, giving Konrad a meaningful look.

Fluffy snowflakes began to fall as they approached a large building in the center of the city.

"The Frozen Hearth," Rolo declared.

The hearth was anything but frozen. Huge logs burned merrily in a grand fire pit in the middle of the tavern, and most of the tables were occupied with chattering patrons. A bard wearing a flamboyant purple costume made his way around the room strumming his lute and singing a jaunty tune, while an older skinny man with no eyebrows placed a flaming torch to his lips and emitted a blast of fire from his mouth.

"I’ll order," Konrad said. He still had some coins in his purse from Lyran’s temple, and the feeling of being able to spend money was still a thrill for him.

"Four cups of ale, please," Konrad said, placing himself at the bar next to a skinny young boy who was nursing a small glass of powerful-smelling spirits.

"Right you are," replied the innkeeper.

The boy took up his glass with a trembling hand and took a mouthful. His eyes watered, and he gagged, coughing violently and spraying the contents of his mouth all over the bar.

"Are you okay?" Konrad asked, patting the boy on the back as he choked and sputtered. "Perhaps you shouldn’t drink that."

"I’m not supposed to drink it; that’s the problem. I’m supposed to do that," he said, indicating to the old man who launched a gout of flame into the room to great applause.

"Is it magic?"

"No, you’re supposed to spray it out of your lips, but I can’t get the hang of it. We’re supposed to perform for the new Thane in a few days."

The barkeep returned with the cups of ale and sighed as he mopped up the spillage. "Another one, young man?" he asked, and the boy hesitated before nodding.

"That'll be four bits for the ale," the innkeeper said.

"Lyran, if you’re listening, bless that boy," Konrad murmured as he dropped some coins on the bar and took the cups.

He had barely made it two steps before he was stopped by Renau; the captain wore a tense expression.

"Wait here and don’t react," Renau whispered.

"What’s happening?"

Konrad peered around Renau and saw a bald-headed Northman standing at their table, towering over Rolo and Serena. He was broad-shouldered like a bull, with a pronounced brow and square chin. His face looked like a stone carving made by someone who had only been given a vague description of a human face. A thick golden ring was pierced through his nose, and behind him stood three figures Konrad recognised from the night Rolo’s wagon had burned.

"We’re going to leave out the back door. Nice and slowly," Renau said, his lips barely moving.

"What about the others?" Konrad hissed.

"Do you have a couple of fireballs hidden away that I don’t know about?"

Konrad glanced at the terrifying northman and shook his head.

"I didn’t think so."

They made their way to the back door. Konrad, Renau, and Spirit slipped out into a narrow alleyway only to be confronted by the northern woman, who made up the last member of the group that had chased them from Enderburg.

"Wait, I know you," she said, her eyes narrowing.

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"Run!" Renau cried, hurling his cup of ale into her face.

Konrad hurtled through the streets of the town, his feet slipping on the churned mix of slurried snow and mud. Renau and Spirit were ahead of him, and they dove into an alleyway with shops on both sides displaying colorful fabrics. Konrad spared a glance back and saw that the northern woman had been joined by two of her companions, and the trio were close on his heels. He threw a hand out behind him and desperately willed the power of the Cold Bite to come to him.

The slushy mixture on the ground froze solid, and their pursuers slipped on the ice, crying out and flailing their arms wildly before crashing into a loaded cart with a sickening crunch.

"My cabbages!" Someone wailed.

Konrad plowed on. The end of the narrow street was fast approaching, but there was no sign of Renau or Spirit. He frantically looked for a place to hide, but all he saw were small fabric and clothing stores.

As he passed the last shop, a hand shot out and pulled him inside.

"Quickly, put this on," hissed a woman, her accent deep and husky. A fur hat was rammed onto his head, and a heavy coat was thrown around his shoulders.

The woman was slender with black hair tied in long tresses, and she wore an alarmingly colorful dress made of dozens of layers of fabric. A strip of silken fabric covered her mouth, and although Konrad could only see her eyes, there was something familiar about her.

Heavy footsteps pounded outside, and the shouting northerners stampeded past the store.

"I think they’re gone," said the woman, stealing a glance outside. As she moved, her dress rustled violently, and Konrad took a step back in alarm before he saw Spirit’s grey snout poke out of the bottom.

"Spirit, get out of there!" he hissed as she slinked out. "I’m sorry about her. Thank you for helping me; you saved my life."

The woman gazed down at him, and her long eyelashes fluttered gently.

"I’m Konrad."

"I am Erica Redsand, dancer in the court of the southern kings," she said, reaching up to remove the silk covering the bottom half of her face. "You might have heard of me."

The moustache was gone, and so was the small pointy black beard, but even under the heavy eye makeup there was no mistaking the roguish grin.

"Renau?" Konrad spluttered. "How did you do that? You were only in here for a second. Where’s your beard?"

"Alas, these are secrets of my craft, young champion, as sacred to me as your gods are to you," he replied with a mischievous smile. "Now turn around while a lady changes."

Konrad obediently turned and heard the swishing of fabrics behind him.

"You can look now."

The figure who stood behind him was neither Renau Denayer, nor Erica Redsand. He had weather-beaten skin, long grey hair, and a tattered eye patch.

"Rydon Warden, nice to meet you."

The northern accent was so flawless that Konrad could have been speaking to Rolo’s twin brother, and he laughed in wonderment. "That’s amazing. What do I call you now?"

"Let’s stick with Renau; I’m not quite tired of being a great sea captain. We should go; the hat and cloak will disguise you long enough to get back to Elena and get out of here."

"What about Rolo and Serena?"

"What about them?"

"I’m not leaving them here. I promised that I’d help Rolo, and that’s what I’m going to do."

Renau sighed and scratched a spot above his eye. "That’s exactly the sort of thing the hero says in every play before they go off and get themselves heroically stabbed."

Spirit wound around to sit by Konrad's side and fixed Renau with her dark stare.

"I see, two against one? Very well, then," Renau said, throwing up his hands dramatically. "But we’re going to need some help."

Renau led them through the town and up a winding stone road, the houses on either side growing in size and splendor until they found themselves outside a magnificent building. A narrow alleyway led then to a small door, and Renau rapped smartly on it.

A thin slider was pulled back, and two suspicious eyes with bushy furrowed eye brows assessed them. "Whata you want?"

"It is I Ostred, returned from the Echo with the sword of the mother," Renau intoned with a formal, dramatic voice.

"Lost Coast chapter are you? You’re far from home. Right you are then."

The door opened, and a wizened old man peered at them through thick glasses. He had white stubble on his chin and a pencil stuck behind his ear.

"In you go, the third act’s just about to start," the old man whispered.

Renau and Konrad took two seats in a crowded hall, and Spirit lay at Konrad's feet. The low chatter of conversation around them gradually petered out, and heavy curtains drew up with a slight squeaking sound to reveal a battered wooden stage.

"You are in for a real treat; this is my favorite part," Renau whispered, gazing transfixed at the stage.

"Renau what are we—?" Konrad began, but sank down into his seat as he was hushed by the people sitting behind them.

The lights turned red, and tense music rose from the musicians seated in a lowered pit. A man strode out onto the stage, and Konrad knew instantly that it was Ostred, the most famous champion who had ever lived. He held the torch of the mother in his hand, and on his shoulder sat Hendra, his magical owl companion.

In the stories Alice had told him, Hendra was a majestic creature with large eyes that could see through any darkness, but the Hendra before him was slightly less dignified. Her eyes were made from mismatched buttons, and one hung limply from a few threads.

"Mother, I have traveled to the forsaken realm of the Echo in search of your sword, but now I cannot hear your words of guidance," Ostred cried, gesturing to the skies as Henrda the owl wobbled alarmingly on his shoulder.

"A little over-dramatic," Renau murmured.

A thunderous sound erupted from the musicians pit, and a frightful apparition appeared on the stage. It was clearly a Faelen monster, complete with red eyes, large, pointed, hairy ears, a snapping jaw, and long, crushing limbs. Its body was covered in dark scales, and it had a vicious spiked tail that thrashed around behind it.

Two pairs of decidedly human feet under the Faelen beast shuffled forward frantically, and Ostred brandished a pure white sword.

"Thats the Faelen Queen," Renau hissed. "See the sword of the mother that she stole?"

Konrad nodded, moving to the edge of his seat.

"Foul demon, I have come to retrieve the sword of the Mother, and as her champion, I command you to return it to me!" Ostred called, falling to one knee and raising the torch toward the queen, who shrieked and shrank away from its light.

"See foul beast, your true nature!" Ostred intoned.

"The torch shows only truth, and the Faelen Queen realizes what a monster she truly is," Renau continued in a low murmur.

The white sword hit the floor with a wooden thud. Ostred hissed angrily, and one of the feet of the Faelen queen kicked it closer to him.

"Aha," Ostred exclaimed, seizing the weapon and brandishing it.

"Aha," he repeated more slowly as he gazed at the audience with wide-eyed uncertainty.

There was a silence in the theater, broken only by the gentle rustle of a paper bag as the elderly woman next to Konrad foraged for a boiled sweet.

"Now begone back to the depths of the Echo and trouble the living realm no more," Renau said quietly through gritted teeth.

"Now go away, and don’t come back," Ostred shouted, causing Renau to roll his eyes.

In a flash of light, the Faelen queen was gone.

A bright light shone upon Ostred, and he sank to his knees. A gigantic woman with long blond hair stepped barefoot onto the stage, her white dress dragging along behind her. The only thing the woman had in common with the statues of the Mother was that she was truly statuesque.

"Ostred is invited to visit the realm of the gods, the highest honor for the greatest champions," Renau whispered.

Ostred presented the white painted sword in his outstretched hands, and the Mother took it reverently.

"You have returned my sword and torch, champion. I give you the gift of Hendra, to be your companion and guide you in your quests," the Mother said, her voice soft and lilting.

"With this gift, I shall be the greatest champion the gods have ever known," Ostred replied.

The lights dimmed and the curtain dropped before Ostred had a chance to move out of the way. The heavy fabric caught the unfortunate Hendra and cast her down into the musicians pit, where she landed with a musical clang.

"Magnificent," Renau said, wiping a tear from his eye as the audience around them clapped and cheered. "What did you think?"

"It was amazing, but I don’t understand why we’re here. How is any of this going to help us rescue Rolo and Serena?"

"Shh," Renau replied, looking around to make sure that they were not being overheard.

Konrad leaned in closer.

"We’re here to meet the most exclusive and secretive group in all of Parthenea, among whom I happen to be rather a big deal."

Konrad was awestruck. "Who are they?" he breathed, searching the crowd for adventurers and fighters, men and women like Athir and Rolo.

The curtain opened, and the cast of the show stood in a line and bowed to rapturous applause.

"The Parthenea Players," Renau proclaimed.