Glim had practiced leaving in his mind so many times that the reality seemed like an afterthought. He walked downstairs, calm in his resolve, and grabbed the pack he’d taken to the linden trees. Before he knew it, the pack had been stuffed with a spare tunic, a copper mug, a firesteel, and a few more odds and ends. His bedroll fit neatly between two straps at the top.

Glim lifted his heaviest cloak from a peg on the wall and balled it up to disguise the pack. If he could manage to obtain a sword and some rations from the guard’s quarters, he’d be set.

With one last look around, he tried to think if he’d want to take anything else. Weight would slow Glim down. But he might never return here. Anything might help.

Returning to his study, Glim looked at the paltry handful of items. A thin scroll, and a handful of elderkin trinkets. He could trade those. They went into a side pocket.

With a twinge of guilt, he looked at the pea pot. Should he take the seedlings? Plant them somewhere?

The guilt he felt over the peas made Glim feel guilty that he didn’t feel guilty about leaving Father behind. He did a little, of course. But the pea plants depended on him.

“I’ll be back for you in a bit,” he told them.

Glim’s luck held out; he obtained a sword without detection, and plenty of oat bars, nuts, and dried apples from the guard’s pantry. Even a handful of goat jerky.

One last time, Glim walked the stairs to his study room with a bowl in hand. Carefully, one fistful of dirt at a time, he scooped the young plants into the bowl. He’d set it down on his way out, somewhere the gardener would find it.

This is it. The final steps.

As he walked towards the south gate, Glim expected a shout of discovery from one of the guards. Which was completely unlikely. After all, Glim had gone out this very gate many a time, sword in hand, to chop himself new training swords. How would this trip seem any different?

Passing the garden beds, Glim sought a good place to leave the bowl. Somewhere in the sun.

“Going somewhere?”

The voice came from nowhere, so faint that he thought it might be the wind. Daryna emerged from the shadows brushing dirt from her hands.

“Er, yes. To chop myself a new training sword.” Glim forced a laugh. “I keep breaking them.”

Her eyes roamed over the heavy cloak, and the bedroll, which had wormed its way into view.

“How long are you expecting it to take?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Thought I might get a hike in. I have the day off.”

“I see. Giving your peas a change of pace as well?”

Glim felt blood rush to his face.

“I wasn’t sure I could keep them alive. I was going to give them back to you.”

“Odd that you didn’t walk to my door. You passed right by it.”

Glim had nothing to say to that. He merely stood, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“Why don’t you join me for some tea. Then you can tell me what’s really on your mind.”

Seeing no way out of it, Glim followed the gardener into a nearby hut. Not the glass house with the rotting meat, but a smaller, cozier building with a stove, a table and chairs, and a thick bundle of fabric on a wooden platform that took up a third of the room. It had blankets and soft-looking pillows on it.

“What is that thing?” Glim asked.

“A bed.”

“What do you do with it?”

“Sleep. Most people do. You soldiers take self-denial to a whole other level.”

So that’s what Gyda’s mother had meant. Glim felt himself blushing again.

Daryna watched him with an unreadable expression on her face. Part study. Part sympathy. And something else he couldn’t identify. “Funny,” she said, “how learning something new can change your perspective, isn’t it?”

Glim got the distinct impression she wasn’t referring to the bed.

“I need a break from the lessons,” he said.

“This is one way to get it, I suppose.”

“What is?”

She nodded at his pack. “Running away.”

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His guilt peaked. Glim stared at the floor.

“And where were you planning to go?” Her voice had a note of suspicion. Daryna took a sudden, sharp breath, causing Glim to look a her in alarm. “South,” she hissed. “Headed towards Phyr’s light?”

A vision of flickering orange clouds flashed through his mind. Daryna’s eyes widened. In that moment, Glim saw the third emotion he hadn’t guessed before: fear.

“You cannot.”

Before he could react, her hand streaked out. She slapped him hard across the face.

White pain blossomed behind his eyes. Glim tasted blood.

He stared at her in surprise and she slapped him again.

Glim leapt back.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“A trifle compared to what will happen if you encounter phyr. I could run you through with that sword, maybe hack off your legs, and it would still be a trifle.”

“What in Algidon’s frozen nipples are you talking about?” he said, voice rising to a shout.

“Head south and you might lose the gift. You aren’t ready.”

“That’s the plan,” he said, spitting blood onto the floor.

“Plans take time. Years. This is impulse. Foolish at that.” She went to a cabinet and rummaged around. “Tuck this inside your lip.”

She handed him a bundle of loosely woven cloth. It smelled like old mint. He placed in inside his cheek. It tingled.

“Feel better?” she asked. Glim nodded. “Then have a seat and explain to me what is going on.”

“Why should I?” Glim asked sullenly.

“Why did you not strike me back? Are you not a guard?”

“Because… you’re trying to help me.”

“I am, at that.” She took a seat across the table from him “Now what’s on your mind?”

“Master Willow is going to kill me.”

“Whatever you did, I’m sure it won’t come to that.”

“I didn’t do anything. I mean his training. I’ve almost died three times. I’m not waiting around for a fourth.”

“I see.” She sat in silence for a minute or two. “Willow is an unsympathetic man. His heart is cold. But the last thing he wants to do is lose you as a student.”

“Why?”

“Because he is driven by pride. Perhaps he cares something for you, or perhaps not. But he cares immensely about his reputation.”

They lapsed into silence once more. She watched him with a gaze he was quickly coming to understand didn’t miss much. At last she stirred. “Now tell me the rest.”

“The rest of what?”

“Why are you leaving now? Why today?”

Glim shuddered and told her of the dream. Her part in it, and losing his head. Settling on top of the other disembodied heads, and her final words to him. “You said: That is where most of them go.”

“Only when you lack focus,” she said with a frown.

“What do you mean?”

“The device you speak of tests a plyer’s facility with the fringe.”

“How do you know that? Master Willow said it has no essentiæl value.”

“You have to configure it first. It probably never occurred to him.”

“So you’re a Winder, then?”

She snorted. “Far from it. I’ve no essentiæ at all.”

“How do you know so much, then?”

“My job is to understand the rhythms of Æronthrall. And to know the Elderkin’s works. Our survival depends on it. Your survival depends on something else entirely.”

“Which is?”

“What do you want?”

“To know what you mean.”

“That is what I mean. What do you want, Glim?”

“To stop these stupid lessons! To not be teased and tortured every day. To become a guard and live my life in peace.”

“A guard, you say? Guarding what?”

“This!” Glim swept his hand around.

“There hasn’t been a war in living memory. Longer than that. Thousands of years. There are no armies. There’s nothing to fight over. Every corner of the world is just as imperiled as any other. Why waste resources on war when you can til more fields, or raise goats? We’ve nothing here anyone would fight for. The world is littered with ruins just like it.”

“But… why—”

“— you haven’t answered me. What do you want? You don’t want to become a guard. Or even to abandon your training. I think I know what you crave.”

“What?”

“Independence.”

The rightness of her words struck him even harder than her palm had.

“You and I should have a talk. A long one. I have good news. I think I can help you.”

“How?”

“There’s one person in Wohn-Grab who — in times of peace, at least— outranks Willow, your father, and even the Mayor himself. Whose words must be followed.”

“Who?”

“Me. The Gardener. As it happens, I’m in need of an Icer to assist me in the field.”

“The field?”

“From time to time I check the outlying towers. You’re already packed. That’s convenient. I’ll go look in on Willow and Jarl. Go put your peas back in the pot and pour this in.” She walked over to her cabinet and returned with a small vial. “A splash around each plant. Meet me in the Glass House. But don’t touch anything.”

“Yes, Miss Daryna.”

“Call me Ryn.”

She paused at the door.

“And bring the fringe board. Or ‘head sorter’ as you call it. I want to show you something.”