There were a few more villages on their way, but no more towns--the growth of the trees was too fast, and it made little sense to spend time maintaining a large town that could be rewilded in a day or two if people took a holiday. There were a lot more people outside the villages through, gathering food or moving from one village to another. You didn't really need to make a living for yourself this close to the Glade, not if you didn't want to: giant trees provided shelter from the elements with their upraised roots and thick canopies, and you couldn't walk three steps without tripping over something edible.

"Has anything changed since I've been gone?" The Trickster asked, watching a passerby recognise Magnus and give him a little bow.

"Eran's house is about twice the size," Magnus said after some thought. "Penny's place is abandoned, obviously."

"Anything I should--" the Trickster stopped and stood staring at the large stone arch in front of them. It was stained with dirt and covered in vines, but it was the sight she had dreamt of seeing for a thousand years.

"We are already here?" the Trickster asked, turning back to Magnus. She swivelled left and right, then sighed. Magnus was already gone.

The Trickster took a breath, then walked through the arch into the Glade. She thought it looked different, but she couldn't really remember it that well. The ground was covered in thick mats of moss, so the paths she was reasonably certain were there weren't visible. She had forgotten how different the architecture was to that in the towns and villages. She could see somebody's house to the right, an eight sided building with open sides that closed with rotating wooden slats. The house was covered in vines and lichen, so the Trickster couldn't tell whose it was.

"Hello, Miss," someone said politely at her right. She turned, and it was Trilan, mostly as she remembered him. Trilan was the eldest of their generation, and as the god of storms and weather wasn't called on too much these days. He had a lock of white in his hair, and a strong build.

"Hello!" the Trickster said, a little too jovially to her ears. "I've come to the Glade to ask for help against the cultists fo the Trickster--they're running amok in the villages, and--

"Yes, I know. I helped you escape, remember?" Trilan said.

"Oh. Yes. Thank you," the Trickster said in a small voice.

"Welcome back," Trilan said.

"Thank you," the Trickster said again.

"Well, come on, then, it's dinner time," Trilan said, and walked away. The Trickster followed.

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Trilan's dinner was well-charred venison and watercress, with a cake for dessert. He shared it equally with the Trickster, while making small talk about the nearby villages.

"I heard that you were happy with your cultists," Trilan said then, after the last of the cake was eaten.

"I... suppose," the Trickster said. "It took a long time, and a long line of cultists. But I don't think I was that happy, really, or I wouldn't have talked to Angus like I did."

"Angus was your last host?"

"Yes. He snuck into the headquarters, looking to steal some valuables. And he thought I was a prisoner, so as a thief he felt some kinship with me, so we got to talking."

The Trickster remembered that life. The cultists never gave him enough candles to light the cell as much as he wanted, and without light to read he was always bored.

"He asked me what the most valuable thing in the complex was, and I said my heart, that it was magic and gave you the power of the gods, and so the next night he came back and cut it out and ate it, and then of course I didn't want to stay with the cult anymore."

"And your current host?"

"When they caught me, and I knew that I wasn't going to be able to escape again. That was when you triggered the storm to hide me."

"And she didn't want to join them?"

The Trickster laughed. "They're not nice people, Trilan. They were going to kill her because she had talked to me."

"Were they really, or is that just what Angus thought?"

"That's what I know, Trilan," Cassie said. Trilan looked curiously at her for a moment, then looked away.

"So," Trilan said. "Are you staying here tonight, or are you crashing at Magnus's?"

"I don't even remember which house is his," the Trickster said.

"I'll show you," Trilan said.

Night had fallen and the air in the Glade was cool and slightly damp, silky in the lungs like the air near a river. The Trickster passed nervously by a herd of goats that was kept to keep the foliage down, ducking to the other side of Trilan. The path they followed was made of large rounded river stones, mossy and with tangled, cropped grasses between them. A few glowing lights in the distance showed where other houses were, but Trilan led the Trickster into a dark area near some trees.

"Magnus doesn't have a fire; can you turn on his magelights?"

"I expect so," the Trickster said. "I'll stay here tonight; I don't want Cloe to get mad at you." Trilan laughed.

"I'll see you in the morning," Trilan said, and wandered back down the paths. The Trickster walked towards the dark house in front of her, scattering a family of grazing rabbits. A painted iron pole stood near the entrance of the house, and the Trickster stared at it for a few seconds before she remembered how to turn it on.

"Light," she said, twisting her hand as she concentrated on the magic. A globe on top of the pole started emitting a soft, warm light, which grew stronger after a few seconds. The Trickster laughed. "I actually do remember," she said in disbelief.

The house smelled of dried rosemary and salt, and the Trickster stood in the middle of the one-room octagon and raised the lights. Magnus didn't have a fire in his house, but he did have a cauldron in one of the corners. The shutters were choked even from the inside with vines, Magnus not visiting the house very often. There were two mattresses, one with clothes piled on top of it and one piled with various pieces of junk, including two half-finished reed baskets, a pile of arrows that needed to be fletched, and a rusted mechanism the Trickster was pretty sure was from the aqueduct system in Penny's old city. The Trickster sat on that mattress and suddenly knew that angle to the door, knew that the faded brown stains on the wood at the head of the mattress used to be a very badly drawn picture of a dog, knew that the light globe next to it had been originally put there because she had been afraid of the dark. She didn't know whether Magnus had kept her bed because he was lazy or out of sentiment, but she pushed off all his half-finished projects and curled up in the blanket, trying not to cry. Among the dust and her memories, she fell asleep.