"You need to leave Bastion." Mosfer was once again sitting at the low table that had given Silas so much trouble, while Silas had opted for squatting nearby.

"Leave Bastion!" exclaimed Silas. "I can't do that! Besides, I haven't been banished from the city, just to the edge of it."

"This is no place for you." The indri gestured around. "This is a place of shadows, a border between the light and dark. The light of Nara shines over Light's End just as surely as it shone over wherever you had your home. If you stay, you will be consumed. You will not be able to go a cycle without becoming reminded of what you had. You will grow bitter and angry and fall into cruelty. Unable to return to the light, you will become what you fear, a shadow that skulks and hides from the light, lurking and preying upon those around you until one day, the guards and their light will shine upon your hiding place and erase the shadow you cast from the world. For the sake of everyone, you need to leave before that happens.

"In the hills to the north lies Shadowhome, a monastery dedicated to thriving in the darkness. They will understand and welcome you. As for how to get there, take almost any caravan heading north. There's a caravanserai below the monastery that merchants like to stop at, and you should find it easy enough to find someone willing to take you that far. Do you have any money for the trip?"

"No, all my money is on deposit in the temple. I have the tallies to claim some, but since I'm no longer welcome there, I can't get to it."

"Let me see them."

Silas reached into his cloak and held out the tallies. Mosfer looked them over.

"I don't have enough coin on hand to cover all your tallies, but I can exchange these three for you," he said. At Silas's nod, Mosfer took the indicated tallies, and placed them on the table before counting out rough stacks of coins in front of each tally.

"Fifteen, ten, and twelve make thirty-seven denarii altogether. You'll only need about seven for the journey to the caravanserai, so that should be more than enough for your current needs," the indri said. He pushed the coins over, and Silas took them.

"One other thing. Do you have warmer clothes?"

"No," said Silas, "All I have is what you see?"

"It's colder away from the light wells. You've seen our problems with light. Despite the dazzle, we still stay near the wells for warmth. Make sure you buy a coat before you leave. It won't kill you if you don't, but you'll be much more comfortable.

"Now, it's cycle's end, so come on in and we'll give you some space to sleep. You can meet up with the caravans next cycle."

After breakfast, Mosfer guided Silas around, helping him purchase what he needed for a journey to Shadowhome. A coat, a spare change of clothes, a cloak for protection from the rain. After the first purchase, Mosfer bargained and Silas paid. Once he was lucky and the shopkeeper would accept tallies directly and so he had more coin left than he had expected.

Supplies in hand, they proceeded to the caravanserai of the north gate. On entering, the babble of people was replaced by the bleating of goats. The central courtyard was filled with wagons, and people were bustling around, leading goats to each wagon. As each wagon achieved its complement of six goats, some people went on to bring goats to the next wagon, while others checked the goats and wagon over. At one wagon a goat was unhitched from the wagon and led back to the herd at the edge of the courtyard and another brought to take its place.

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As Silas watched the chaotic scene before him, he felt a tugging on his sleeve. "Do you see anyone with a caravan master's badge?" asked Mosfer. "If you do, that's the person we want to approach."

Silas looked around and saw five people standing around, less active than the others. None of them had any badges. Otherwise, the commotion and rapidly changing shadows from all the movement made it impossible to track anyone long enough to see if they had a badge.

"I don't," he said.

"Pity." Mosfer moved to one of the wagons and tried to get the attention of the people hitching the goats, but was flatly ignored. After the third such attempt, Silas asked, "Why don't we ask someone who isn't busy?"

"You see someone like that?"

"Yes."

"Then lead on."

Silas and Mosfer pushed their way through the goats until they reached the bystanders.

"Yo. Are you passengers too?" asked one as they approached.

"No," replied Mosfer, "but my companion would like to become one if the caravan is going to Shadowhome."

"No idea. The caravan master promised to lead us to our ride once everything was ready. If you wait here with us, I'm sure you'll get a chance to ask him yourself."

"We'll do that." Mosfer turned to Silas. "Most caravans departing from here stop at Shadowhome, but I'll wait with you just in case."

They waited in silence with the others, listening to the sounds of the caravan getting ready. Eventually a short, squat man walked over to them. His beard was full and neared his waist and a silver badge in the shape of a goat was pinned to his breast.

"I'm Caspar, the caravan master." He gestured at the others. "You'll be riding together in the carriage," he said, turning to point out a taller wagon as he spoke. "Now, what are you two doing here?"

"Silas here is looking to go to Shadowhome," Mosfer answered before Silas could speak. "Are you taking more passengers?"

"Sure, sure. No problem," replied Caspar. "It will be three denarii for the ride and another five if you need food."

"Acceptable. Pay him, Silas." Silas handed him the eight denarii requested.

"Perfect. You're not in a group, and we don't have another carriage, so I'll have you ride with one of the drivers. The third wagon should do."

Caspar led Silas over to the indicated wagon. "Got a passenger for you. Thought your wagon was light enough that the goats could take the extra load." The driver extended a hand to help Silas up.

"Welcome aboard. I'm Joachim."

"Silas."

"You look uncomfortable. First time on a caravan?"

Silas nodded.

"Put your lantern on the hook beside you," said the driver. "We'll trade off lighting yours and mine once they're empty. Can't go without light, but we have to carry all our oil with us and it only goes so far."

While Joachim was speaking, Caspar walked ahead to board the first wagon. The caravan began to move. The gates in the Rim were opened and Silas shivered as a cold draft washed over him. "Better put on your coat," said Joachim.

The wagons rolled through the gates. A long finger of light spilled out of the gates, marred by the shadows of the wagons. Then the gates closed, and the light from the wells of Bastion was extinguished.

Just two lights on the wagon, soon to be one. A faint glow around the edges of the wagon in front. And above, faint lights twinkled. The stars seemed more numerous outside Bastion, as though they had been afraid to show themselves within the city. "But that can't be right," thought Silas. "Light is good. The stars are light, they're our allies. Why would they hide?"

Silas looked down from the sky and saw lights moving slowly to either side.

"What are those lights?", he asked.

"Farmers," replied Joachim. "Have you never wondered where your mushrooms come from? There's hardly room within Bastion to grow all that you eat, so they must work out here."

"But to be in the dark, away from the light…"

"Yes, they are. So are the caravaners. So are the guards of the walls. So are the miners. The people who live in the city, crowding around the light wells and never venturing into the darkness? They would die in days without us and we know it." Joachim snorted and looked away, the conversation over.