“Bugger off!” Bayne yelled, kicking at one of the small ferret-like creatures that had been looking up at him from the ground. “Little beasts!”

“I would thank ye not to kick poor Arvan,” the old woman said. “He don’t take too kindly to it.”

“Arvan?” Bayne asked. “Ye’ve named the little bastards?”

“Arvan, pip!” the woman called. The Tyl suddenly crawled up the side of her leg and climbed up to her shoulder, then looked back at Bayne and pulled down its eyelid, sticking its tongue out at the man.

Despite the road rash and other scrapes Terra received after falling off her quad, she found the sight to be utterly hilarious, and started laughing louder than she intended, drawing a stern look from Bayne.

“They understand you?” Terra asked. She extended her finger toward another of the Tyl. The one wearing a little green tunic. It smelled the tip of her finger, touching it with its nose. Terra giggled.

“O’course they do,” the woman replied as she opened the door to her cottage. “Come on then, have a sit over yonder.”

The cottage was surprisingly large from the outside, although with the level of clutter inside, one wouldn’t be able to tell. Every inch of the wall was covered in some kind of hanging decoration, and rugs covered the wooden slat flooring. With Ryan’s help, Terra sat in the chair, looking around.

“Ye act as though ye’ve never seen a Tylman before,” the woman commented as she gathered some things from various shelves against the wall.

“We haven’t,” Ryan added. “We’re… not exactly from around here.”

The woman looked over toward Ryan and paused for a moment. “That right?” she asked. “From the looks of those loud contraptions out there, and the way you lot dress, I would never have guessed.” She looked over to Nalya and Bayne. “But I can smell Rasza on each of you.”

“I was born near Eastlake,” Nalya said. “Bayne, as you could probably tell, is from the Sandsea.”

“Is that where I recognise his accent from?” she asked sarcastically.

“What’s yer name, woman?” Bayne asked. “Why are you here?”

The woman looked over to Bayne, regarding him carefully before responding. “Erzabet,” she replied. “Though few call me that anymore. These’uns squeak at me, and the Quicktooth south of the river call me Calmluck.”

“Calmluck? They gave you a name too?” Ryan asked.

“Aye,” she said. “Seems they did the same for you. I wouldnae expect them to take kindly to you riding those noisy things through their hunting grounds well. So where are you from, strangers?”

“Ladysmith,” Terra replied as Erzabet pulled up the leg of her jeans and start to inspect the damage. “It’s a town a few days south of here. It’s… uhh… new.”

“The only town I know a few days south of here is Timberfall,” she said. “But I’d hardly call that a town.”

“It lay further south,” Nalya added. “By the Aegel Coast.”

“Oh, aye? Must be new, then.”

“We’re not originally from the Pactlands,” Terra said.

The woman looked up at her. “That so?” she asked suspiciously. “Well if ye ain’t of the Pact, yer certainly no Freeman. At least not the likes of which I’ve ever seen. And ye don’t act like no Caeden I’ve ever met. That doesn’t leave much. Are ye lot Southmen, from across the sea?”

“Not exactly,” Terra said. She looked over to Nalya for a moment, uncertain.

Nalya only nodded at her as if to say it was okay to tell the truth.

“Ladysmith isn’t from this world,” Terra said.

Erzabet paused for a moment. She looked up, her eyes searching deeply into Terra’s. “That so?” she asked. She looked back to Nalya and Bayne. “And what are the three of you doing with this lot?”

“Travelling,” Terra said. “We’re going to Halen. To meet with the King.”

Erzabet laughed. “Queerest sort of fellowship I’ve seen. An old lout from the Sandsea, an Eastlaker and three outworlders.”

“I know it sounds crazy,” Terra said. “I’d have thought it crazy myself.”

“Ain’t crazy, lass,” Erzabet said. “A little surprising perhaps, but not crazy. This world works in a strange fashion.” She looked over toward Nalya. “Yer a Ruus, ain’t ye?”

Nalya suddenly reacted as if she’d been struck. “How… how did you know that?”

Erzabet laughed to herself. “Ain’t important. Strange fashions indeed.” She started to apply a salve to Terra’s legs.

“I’m not wearing anything to identify my family,” Nalya said. “Please, Erzabet. How did you know?”

“Left the Sandsea some thirty years ago,” she said. “Tired of the fool laws passed down by men who’ve no idea how the lesser of their people survive. Tired of blind adherence to a set of laws created by dead men. Saw my way here, y’know. Settled in these plains. At first, I were hungry. Weak. Wanted to go back to Rasza. I’d given up on becoming a Freeman. Then, like as magic, I come across a Cairn right in front of me, as if one of the dead gods themselves had dropped it directly into me path.” She sighed. “Letters of the Old Script were etched upon it. A name. My name.”

She laughed. “I thought I’d gone mad. Didn’t know what to make of it, but it gave me pause. Here I was, about to go back, and there, right in my sight were a stone bearing my own name. They say it’s bad luck to mess about with a Cairn, but my curiosity got the better of me. I had to find out why. Why was my name written upon this stone? I knocked it over, the stone. Inspected it. For days I racked me head about it. Finally, I was going to give up when the idea struck me to break it open.”

“I did,” she said, standing up and walking to a shelf on the far wall. “And wouldn’t ya know, something was inside it. Some ancient Earth Mage must’ve wrapped stone around it and put it there by his instruction. I don’t see how else it could have stood the test of time.”

“What was it?” Nalya asked.

Erzabet picked up a small metal lockbox and flipped upon a latch on the side. “Best I can figure, it’s from the time around the Signing of the Pact. I don’t know if it were Wendell Mair hisself in these lands or someone put it here by his instruction, and protected it from time by encasing the box in stone, but here it is.” She opened the lockbox and pulled out a leatherbound book. The pages were old and frayed, but it still appeared to be bound.

“Ye’d not have believed me when I opened it and found the first page of the book addressed to me. Not someone bearing my name, but me, specifically. Surprised me so much I tore out the page and burned it, but only after I read it again and again. I thought it madness, but the book knew things. Things I myself didn’t yet know. That I’d settle in the spot where I found the Cairn. That I’d find help from villagers travelling to Timberfalls to construct a cottage. That I’d make the acquaintance of a colony of Tylmen, who would become like family to me.” She paused. “And that one day, I’d give the book to a young woman with hair the colour of blood, who were injured falling off of a loud iron horse, accompanied by four others, including a daughter of the House of Ruus.” She looked to Terra, and handed the book to her.

“Jesus Christ,” Cale said, suddenly breaking his silence. “Seriously?” He looked over to Ryan. “Both of you, now?”

“I read it backwards and forwards,” Erzabet said. “Thought I were mad. Thought I’d been overtaken by sickness. But every thing he’d written came to pass.”

“Was it written by Wendell Mair?”

Erzabet nodded. “Aye.”

“How the hell did he know?” Terra asked. “How could he possibly know where and when we’d come through?”

“I’d be more interested to find out what this Mair guys knew about how we got here,” Cale commented. “That lockbox. Can I see it?”

Erzabet nodded and passed Cale the lockbox.

Stolen story; please report.

Terra watched the expression on Cale’s face turn from mild interest to eager investigation. He turned the lockbox over in his hand.

“Jesus Christ. You guys, this is from Earth.”

“What?” Terra both got up to take a closer look while Ryan looked over his shoulder. “How do you know?”

Cale showed Terra the box. “Look,” he said, moving the thin metal handle around. “That’s the first clue. This type of handle was popular on lockboxes back in the early twentieth century. Second, there’s this.” He flipped the box upside and pointed to a series of numbers and letters indented on the bottom of the lockbox. It read: HMS Saveur, 1908.

“Holy shit,” Ryan said.

Terra suddenly flipped open the book and started to read the first page.

“In this book, find the last words of… Wendell Murphy?” Terra acted as though she were struck.

“Wait, Murphy?” Ryan asked. “I thought his name was Mair?” He paused for a moment. “Wait. Terra, he’s got the same last name as you.”

Terra felt the blood rush out of her head. She slumped back down in her chair.

“Terra, you okay?”

Terra searched for some way to give him an answer, but found she could only stare blankly at the page. Could it be? Was it true? When she was little, her grandfather would tell her stories about her family’s history. One name stuck out in her memory. The name of her great-great grandfather… Wendell Murphy, a veteran of the first World War, who never made it back to Canada.

She looked again to the lockbox. “HMS Saveur,” she said. “What is that?”

“Sounds like a British ship,” Cale replied. “But something doesn’t make sense.” He looked over to Nalya. “You said Wendell Mair was around at the Signing of the Pact, right? That’s a thousand years ago?”

“One thousand and twenty-four years ago to be exact,” Nalya said.

“But this lockbox is from 1908. Or at least, it was made in 1908. That’s only a hundred and twelve years ago by our calendar.” He looked to Erzabet. “You said this was encased in stone?”

“Aye,” she replied.

“That might have protected it from degradation, but it doesn’t make any sense,” Cale said. “The dates don’t match up.”

“Time dilation,” Ryan said.

“What?”

“The passage of time for objects moving at high speeds tends to slow down,” he explained. “The faster an object, the greater the dilation. We wouldn’t notice any dilation because we’re on the moving object, but if it’s moving fast enough, it would explain the time difference. You ever see Planet of the Apes? The original, with Charlton Heston?”

Cale shook his head. “Must’ve missed that one.”

“Long story short, he’s an astronaut who thinks he crash-landed on an alien planet where apes are the top of the food chain. But actually, he was travelling so fast he crash-landed on Earth thousands of years into the future.”

“Beg yer pardon, but what’s an ape?” Erzabet asked.

Ryan shook his head. “Primate. Like a monkey, but no tail.” He shook his head. “Not important, the point is that if this world– hell, if the solar system we’re in is moving through space at a faster rate than Earth, it would cause that sort of time dilation.”

“So… ten days here is like a day on Earth?”

Ryan nodded. “Roughly speaking, yeah. If that’s the case then only about half a day has passed on Earth.”

“That’s terrifying,” Cale said. He remained silent for a time, then looked to Terra.

“My Great-Great Grandfather,” Terra began. “He disappeared after the first World War.” She looked back at Cale. “His name was Wendell.”

There was a pregnant pause that filled the room.

Suddenly, Erzabet stood up. “I don’t know about yer time dilations, or yer World Wars,” she said. “Or yer forefather. But I do know what I were told by a man who died a thousand years before I were but a bean in me mother’s belly.” She reached up to her shoulder and picked up Arvan, lowering him to the ground. “Fetch Raven and Quick,” she instructed him. “They need to hear this.”

“What does that mean? Yer ancestor was the last Seer of the Green Sight?” Bayne asked. “Is that possible?”

“Not only possible,” Nalya said. She looked to Bayne. “Becca Ayre. Rasshauer Flenn. Wendell Mair. You know the rhymes. The Founders three came to be, at the shores of the White Span Sea, forgotten by their land of lore, on the back of strong Saveur.” She looked then to Terra. “There is a place in western Halen we call Saveurest. It is a place of pilgrimage, where travellers pay respects to the three Founders. It’s said that when they came to these lands, that’s where they landed.”

“Saveur was no ship,” Bayne protested. He shook his head. “Saveur was a great serpent. The stories–”

“Over time, stories change,” Cale said. “Oral storytelling, bad translations. We’re talking about a thousand year old game of telephone. You said the Old Script was a thousand years old, right?”

“Aye,” Bayne said.

“And how did it develop?”

“Before we adopted the common tongue, the lands were separated by many different languages. There were some scripts in use, but… the Old Script was used as the foundation of the Pact,” Nalya explained.

“I think we’ve just solved one of the biggest mysteries since we’ve arrived,” Cale said. “That would explain why we all speak the same language. Your common tongue wasn’t developed here. It was brought here.”

“What else is in the book?” Ryan asked.

Terra looked back down to the book. She began to read aloud. “Heed these, the last words of Wendell Murphy. Born of… Jesus, born at the colony of Vancouver Island, the second day of June, 1887. I have lived a life of adventure and woe, and as I near the end of this mortal existence, I leave my last words to my successor, who is of my blood. Know, Ter– Jesus Christ, he’s using my name. Know, Terra, that it cannot be my place to tell you of all my secrets and errors. Too many eyes upon too many secrets could undo all that must be done, and so you must carve your own path. But in these pages, I shall endeavour to guide you as best I can.” Terra looked to Erzabet. “Have you read this?”

“Aye,” she said. “I’ve had it for years, lass. I’ve read it front to back. But none of it makes sense to me. I suspect it was written to only make sense to one person. The person it was meant for.”

“You said you tore out a page?” Terra pointed to the first page of the book, where there was clear evidence it had been torn off.

“Aye,” she said. “And burned it.”

“Why?”

“Because that page wasn’t meant for you,” she said. “It was meant for me.”

“We need to get word to Ladysmith,” Cale said. “This is huge. It could also be an important step to figure out how to get home.”

“In Ansem,” Nalya said. “Across the border into Halen, there is a Swift Hall. We can hire one and send him to Ladysmith. The message will be delivered.”

“Swift?”

“The Swift are elite messengers,” she explained. “They live by a code. The message will make it there safely, and privately.”

Terra flipped through the pages of the book. “There’s a lot of… poetry? I think. Illustrations.” She looked up. “This book is really old. We need to get it copied. I’m afraid it’s going to fall apart.”

“Maybe we should send the book back to Ladysmith, too?”

Terra looked back down at the book. “These poems… they don’t really make much sense. It’s really cryptic.”

“May I see?” Nalya asked.

Terra nodded and carefully passed the book to her. She flipped through a few pages. “These… poems are strangely worded. They lack context. I am uncertain how much Wendell Mair– Murphy could see with his Sight, but perhaps they’re not meant to make sense until the right time.”

“I don’t feel comfortable taking this book as it is to Halen,” Terra said.

Nalya looked to Erzabet. “Will you hold this until we send a Swift for it?” she asked.

“Aye,” Erzabet said. She craned her neck toward her door as three small forms appeared at it. Arvan stood there with two other Tyl, squeaking excitedly. “About time,” she said. “Raven, come hither.”

A dark-furred Tyl scampered into the room, warily watching the five guests.

“The time I wasn’t certain would come?” she mentioned. “It’s come.”

Terra was surprised to see how expressive the Tyl were. She could tell the little creature was stunned by what the old woman had said. The Tyl looked among the strangers, then settled upon Terra. It pointed at her, then looked up at Erzabet.

“Aye,” she said. “That’s the one.”

“What’s the one?” Terra asked. “Why is she pointing at me?”

The Tyl started to squeak excitedly, then scampered toward the door where another Tyl stood, watching. They squeaked at each other, and at one point Terra got the impression they were arguing. But then the second Tyl looked directly at Terra, then ran up to her.

The Tyl stood before her, then bowed. It was wearing a little green tunic, and had its ear pierced.

“His name is Quick,” Erzabet said.

“Hi, Quick,” Terra said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s this about?”

“Quick will be accompanying you,” Erzabet said.

“Bullocks he will,” Bayne said. “I’ll not travel with a useless, thieving little Tylm–” His words were cut short by Quick himself, who in less time than it took Bayne to speak, had crossed the distance between them and took out a small blade, holding it directly against Bayne’s throat.

“I’d be careful, Bayne of the Sandsea,” Erzabet said. “There’s a reason we named him Quick. He’ll nick your arteries before you even realise he were there. Tylmen ain’t thieves anyway. They have a different ken when it comes to ownership. Either way, it’s out of my hands.”

“I don’t get it,” Terra said.

“I don’t expect I get it much, either,” Erzabet replied. “But it were requested of us by yer ancestor hisself. Quick’s known this day might come his whole life.”

“What about the other one? Raven?”

Erzebet smirked. “Raven’s ‘is mum. She’s here to see ‘im off.” She looked out the window. “Ye’ve been treated, lass. And the day grows late. Quick’s as ready to go as ever. Ye’d best be on yer way. Ye want to be past Asha’Nigh ‘fore dusk falls. Foul spirits in that place.”

“Asha’nigh?” Ryan asked.

“Ruins,” Nalya said. “Ancient. Older that the Eventine Wars. Those who venture in rarely return. Erzabet is right.” She walked toward Quick and knelt. “Welcome, Quick. My name is Nalya.”

Quick squeaked up at Nalya and gave her a little salute that Terra found to be just adorable.

“I don’t like it,” Bayne said.

“You don’t have to like it, Bayne. You just have to put up with it,” Nalya said. “Still, once we arrive in Halen, it’s best for Quick to stay out of sight. There are many who might try to kill him on sight there. Tyl aren’t… well understood in the Pactlands.”

“But they’re so cute!” Terra said.

“We’ll send a Swift for the book, Erzabet,” Nalya said. “Expect them in a few days. I thank you for your candour and assistance.”

“Ain’t much a friend of the Ruus family,” Erzabet said. “But yer all right, I s’pose.” She nodded. “Good journey, and we’ll see each other again before this is all over, I s‘pect.”