They set out from Adrianeth's castle that day.

Sahshir was not sad to leave the place behind and was pleased that Adrianeth did not see them off. He was in no mood to exchange pleasantries with a demon. Unfortunately, it was the last roof they would have over their heads in the coming days.

The company, led by Tuor, moved by night and rested in secret places. When they saw roads, they stayed off them. Occasionally they saw merchants on ox carts or knights walking on quests. These they avoided completely, though Nagos seemed to want to speak with them. The river, meanwhile, got closer by the day. Often, Sahshir would see ships passing along it, merchant ships for the most part.

Now and then, rainstorms would come in and shower them, making the journey miserable. But on they plodded nonetheless.

"Doesn't this wilderness ever end?" muttered Nagos. "We haven't talked to anyone outside our group in a week."

"Perhaps not," said Tuor. "But it will only become harder once we reach the shore. I have a man waiting to take us across the river, but that is where we will most likely be seen."

"I presume you have some plan for this journey stage," said Sahshir.

"You are correct, Sahshir," said Tuor. "There are certain rituals that may disguise us. Much of what people see when they look at someone is based on their perception, not on any inherent truth. There are certain rituals by which I may allow us to slip beneath notice.

"To the casual eye, we shall appear ordinary travelers.

"In a longer conversation, however, we may have a problem."

"Nagos will do the talking here," said Sahshir. "Should any need doing?"

"I think perhaps I ought to," mused Tuor. "I have passed as a Harlenorian before, and I once was one."

"No, no, I should," said Oresa.

"Oresa?" asked Sahshir.

"My mother was a Harlenorian," said Oresa. "So, I look the part better than anyone."

"Do you believe you'll be able to keep up the act?" asked Sahshir.

"Well, um..." Oresa paused. "I could put across being very ineffectual and weak-willed. And Nagos could be my companion who keeps me out of trouble."

"That sounds like a fairly good idea to me," said Nagos. "It means I can be a foreigner in command while there being a good reason for it."

Then Sahshir noticed another castle some ways off. Before him, Sahshir saw another castle. It was black and stood tall with spikes for crenelations. It was abandoned, just like Adrianeth's, but the land around it was barren and desolate. "...That castle over there, what is it?"

"That is the castle of Dolores Gable," said Tuor, "though it was once called Joyous Gable. Once, it was the abode of Sir Orson the Valiant, the greatest Knight of Harlenor. He was the meekest man to stand in the hall among ladies, yet the sternest warrior to ever stand in a line of battle.

"It's said that he tamed a horse and rode it into battle, though none know what became of it.

"Before him, the castle was the abode of a cruel Elven Lord named Avasast. He was friends with a dragon and forced the humans here to sacrifice their fairest maidens to the dragon. And often, he would go out to the quarries, forcing his men to work and firing arrows at them for sport.

"Then, one day, Orson faced him.

"He carried only a sling and was only a boy of twelve. But he challenged Avasast to single combat. Laughing, the Lord dismounted and drew his sword to cut the child's head off. But Orson cast his stone and smote him on the forehead. The elf had not donned his helmet and fell senselessly to the ground.

"Snatching up his enemy's sword, Orson struck swiftly and cut his head from his shoulders. Then he turned to fight the elf's guards, but another boy came to his aid, pulling him away. That boy was Anoa the Bright, and together they had many adventures.

"Anoa was farsighted and ruthless, but Orson was noble and brave. And together, they founded the Kingdom that would one day become Harlenor."

"What happened to him?" asked Oresa.

"Anoa married a girl named Gwendoven," said Tuor, "a beautiful girl with the blood of fairies within her. It is said that he saw her walking upon a crystal lake. It was near the heights of the Black Mountain. Loving her at once, he performed many great deeds in her honor and married her.

"Yet her heart belonged to Orson.

"Eventually, Anoa heard of an affair between the two of them. Disbelieving it, he nevertheless set a trap for them. Catching them in the act, he drew his sword to kill them. But Orson snatched up a sword and fought free, escaping with Gwendoven to this castle.

"But they had called down the wrath of Anoa.

"And Anoa's wrath is a curse. Once set upon someone, none may survive it. Or so it is said, for his spirit shall dog their steps until utter ruin is upon them.

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"And yet Orson had such power and majesty that he could forestall Anoa's wrath.

"And so it was that Anoa called upon Fortenex and Zigildrazia for aid. Zigildrazia forged for him such a suit of armor as has never been seen since. And Fortenex blessed his warriors with an unquenchable thirst. In repayment for this debt, the castle was laid to waste; every village was destroyed around it. All the people and animals were put to the sword. All their valuables were burned.

"At last, Anoa faced Orson right there upon the tower.

"They fought one another in single combat, Gwendoven behind him.

"Orson fell, and Gwendoven died moments later.

"But Anoa was not content with death for his enemies. And so he sealed Orson's soul and bound it for eternity. And it is said that Orson's ghost still haunts some ancient land, guarding in death the domain of his master."

"Gel Carn," mused Sahshir.

"Yes," said Tuor. "I saw it myself from just here. Though I was a young child, and Arengeth was already old."

"What part did Arengeth play?" said Isamu.

"None," said Tuor. "His duties often took him far afield. When he heard of events, he came at once. But he arrived only in time to see the utter ruin of Orson."

"How old were you?" asked Oresa.

"I was eleven years old," replied Tuor, "the bastard son of King Anoa the Bright. He had many mistresses, though I am told he loved Gwendoven dearly."

"But he killed her," said Orson.

"Love and hatred are close relations," said Sahshir. "One can become the other very easily. It takes only a betrayal.

"And Anoa was never a happy man.

"Come, we are near the river. Once we reach the settlements, we'll cross over and head for our goal."

The spell Tuor cast was simple, and it was done using the Sword of Order. As they approached the river settlements, they moved through. Around them were many rough-looking people. Most did not give any of the travelers a second glance, and they seemed to pass unnoticed easily. They saw a militia drilling with spears and shields to one side. As they neared the river, Sahshir was surprised at how clear it was.

When they got to the pier, they found a man with a long, black beard sitting by a large boat. The man glanced up and stood with a start, snatching up a spear. "Hold up, you lot there. Don't go a step further till I have a better look at you?"

"I assure you, Captain, we mean no harm," said Oresa, slowing to a halt. Her voice was strange now.

"Plenty of folks say they mean no harm," said the man. "Not many of them come out of the Dead South these days. You from one of the villages in that region? I'd thought for sure they wouldn't last."

"We are from Sorn," said Sahshir before he remembered Nagos was meant to be doing the talking.

The man frowned. "You don't mean...

"Elranor above, you came through the Road of Ancient Stone?"

"Indeed we did," said Sahshir.

"Well then, you must be mighty fine warriors," said the man. "Or liars with a terrible sense of direction and not sense enough to stay on the path. Either is no concern of mine; you aren't demons either way."

"You have problems with demons?" asked Oresa.

"Now and then, young las, now and then," said the man. "Though they're usually a much weaker kind or in a human shell. The only way they can get close to these parts is to spy. We can thank Lord Elranor for that.

"Who among you is the leader?"

"Um, I am, actually," said Oresa. "Though Nagos is my advisor."

"Which one of you is that?" asked the man.

Nagos came in from where he'd been speaking with someone else. "That would be me; it's great to meet you. Sorry if Oresa's guards are a bit defensive; we've had some near calls. Is that the ferry over there?"

"That it is, young man," said the man. Then he frowned. "Nagos, I swear I heard that name somewhere before. Ah yes, Nagos, King of the Seas, was it."

"It's a common name," said Nagos. "I've got the luck to share it. Everywhere I go, people wonder if I am King Nagos in disguise.

"Who are those men drilling?"

"They're the border watch," said the man. "Few folks like to dwell beyond the river; Adrianeth's demons come out at night. Still, with all the land being taken beyond, some brave souls have tried for colonies on the other side.

"Nothing attacks them outright, of course. But it can't be denied that some bad luck follows them as they try to make a living out here. A few knights tried to journey up to Dolores Carn a ways back, but none returned.

"Some say the spirit of Sir Orson haunts it still."

"Sir Orson?" asked Nagos.

Sahshir wondered if he had not been paying attention. Or was he merely looking for the man's perspective?

"A damned rebel, the first and worst of the lot," said the man. "Seduced Anoa the Bright's wife and raised banners against him. Made all kinds of deals with infernal demons to try and stop the King's justice. But in the end, the demons came to collect their due and devoured his whole land.

"If it hadn't been for him, Baltoth never should have had the chance to kill Anoa IX. We have taken Seathorius without that civil war.

"But, all that's being set to rights now. A new Heir of Kings has drawn Lightning Trail from the sky. She's already brought peace to Gel Carn. And the word is that House Gabriel has secured Artarq and Seathorius.

"Mark my words, the Dark Lord's days are numbered at this rate."

"Do you think we could meet this Heir of Kings?" asked Nagos.

"Well, I hear tell she's gone out to set Escor to rights as well," said the man. "Went with Gabriels, De Chevlons and Vortegexs too. So you still need to take your chance.

"Still, there is the shrine to the Heaven's Eye. The gem is well guarded, but its radiance flows into the shrine. I may live to see her take it up; now that's unexpected."

"Can you take us across the river?" asked Nagos.

"Of course," said the man. "So long as you have the money for the ferry, we'll not quarrel.

The name's Captain Trevor, by the way."

The trip over the river was a swift one. As they landed, Oresa seemed troubled. "These people regard Anoa as a hero and Baltoth as a Dark Lord."

"Of course they do," said Tuor. "They have been trained to do so since birth. To question their nature would invite doubt into everything they believe."

"But how do we know there isn't truth to what they are saying?" asked Urus, though the question seemed more out of principle.

"It does not matter," said Tuor. "Our interests and theirs are mutually exclusive. Even if we learned we were in the wrong by some miraculous chance, we would still act the same. Ideals are a means of justification. Nothing more."

"No, they aren't," said Sahshir flatly. "Your ideals aren't what you believe. Your ideals are what you do. Everything you do is in service to one cause or another. Your desires and feelings are irrelevant in the face of your actions."

"Can we please save the philosophy for later?" asked Isamu.

"I dunno, I find them interesting," said Nagos.

"You?" asked Isamu. "The kid raised by pirates."

"I'm the same age as Sahshir," said Nagos, "and in case you haven't noticed, I'm the most feared pirate in history."

"History isn't over yet," muttered Isamu.

"If you think about it, history ends with every moment," noted Oresa.

"Not really," said Nagos. "The Books of Namina tells us that time is already complete. But we who are within it can only perceive part of it at any time. As we move, what we can see before and after changes.

"It's like if you are raising a torch to a wall. And the light only reaches part of it.

"Eventually, though, the light goes out, and you must make a new one.

"That's what death is.

"Swapping out the torch."

"Who cares?" asked Isamu.

"People other than you," snapped Tuor, who was nearly as sick of Isamu as Sahshir. "We'll head down the path out of sight, then turn aside into the wilderness. Once we have arrived, we will have to discuss the details of our plans."