Ekalin was quiet most of the way back, though she still communed with the trees. She glanced at Arn occasionally, giving him the impression that she discussed him with the trees. The notion would have seemed laughable, but after everything he'd seen, it worried him.

She spoke only the bare minimum and cut him off each time he tried to mention the avalanche. 'Not here, not now,' she said.

On the evening of that day, they finally reached her hut. Arn practically crawled inside, barely managing to take off his coat and boots before falling on the bed. His chest rose and fell, and he stared blankly at the ceiling, trying to catch his breath.

Ekalin gave him time. He noticed her moving about and putting things away.

Did she ever get tired? He couldn't tell because her breathing was even the entire journey. Arn wasn't sure that she was an Ossar or even mortal - how can someone have such endurance? He wondered.

He sensed the familiar aroma of the fireball tea some minutes later. Arn sat up on the bed and watched Ekalin brew the hot drink. She smiled absently but otherwise ignored him. He watched her produce a candle, surrounded by a silver lattice with ceremonial ornaments. She lit the wick and let the flame burn for a time - the wax melted and coated some of the metal.

Finally, the ranger let out a sigh and closed her eyes, took a sip of the tea, then sat down in a chair before Arn. Ekalin unfastened her sleeve and removed the Tjoreal bracelet from her wrist, putting it down on the table between them. Arn's eyes widened; he desperately hoped that she wasn't going to ask him to follow her example.

"Come on, give it up," she said.

"I can't," he replied.

"I'll give it back," the ranger insisted.

"I, I really can't - "

"You can't," she grimaced. "What are you worried about? I said that I'd give it back!"

Arn shook his head, "I don't have it."

Ekalin frowned, "well, go get it then."

"It's gone."

"Gone?" she knit her brows, "gone? As in, gone?"

"Yes," he cried out, "gone! As in gone! I don't have it; it's gone, completely!"

The ranger humphed and folded her arm, "that's impossible."

"I'm not lying!" he yelled, both fists clenched.

"What did I say," she growled, "back. All. The way. OFF."

The two of them glared at each other, but Arn relented first.

"I didn't say that you're lying," she spoke after a moment of silence. "The Tjoreal is made that way - to stay with you, it can't be lost, and it's damn hard to destroy."

It was Arn's turn to knit his brows; he glanced at her Tjoreal. "I saw her do it," he whispered.

"Who? What - boy, you need to start talking in full sentences!"

"Clanless."

"Clanless?" Ekalin cried. "I am really reconsidering this whole business of saving you," she cried.

Silence once again. Ekalin loudly sipped her tea. Arn reached for a cup, letting the aroma wash over him and calm the hot ambers that burned within. He looked down at his feet and exhaled. The steam from the cup blew aside and curled in little whisps.

"How in the name of Khoar'Sae did you get involved in something like that?"

Khoar - who? Arn thought. The ranger still awaited his response. What would he reveal to her? Was there any point in keeping anything secret? He finally settled on omitting De'al from the story but told her everything else.

When he finished, Ekalin ran a hand through her hair and whistled softly. "Well, you are definitely not headed to Naradael, I can tell you that."

"Why?"

"Were you here when a boy just told me a charming story? Which added to the other charming things he told me, and some I witnessed myself?" she shook her head. "Even in your backwards town, you must have heard of what the Inspectorate is like!"

"Stop!" he yelled. "Stop insulting me and my town and everything!" his fists clenched again. Ekalin bit her lip, tapped the table with her hand, nodded slowly. Arn sat back down. When'd he stand up? He hadn't even noticed.

"Too many," she waved her hand, "too many unusual events happen to you. The Inspectorate doesn't appreciate unusual events; they like very usual and predictable events. They like things to happen in an expected order and without surprises. Surprises get dealt with. Catch my meaning?"

"So what am I supposed to do? I didn't do anything! They sent me to Kalarhan, and they sent Ossagar, Rana - I don't even; why'd she have to be there?" he cried out.

"Arn," she said and reached towards him with her Hand but stopped midway and lowered it. "I was once told that the designs of great forces always involve the average man, yet never considered him," her voice carried the tone of sadness he heard in it back in the valley.

"Can't I just go back to Nysaros?" he pleaded as if her approval was the deciding factor.

"I don't know," she said. "But don't go to Naradael. Or back the same way you came, that Inspectorate warden you met at the fort, he won't go away."

"How else am I supposed to return?" he asked.

"Well," she said and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "Get to the Tower of Het, take the boat down the great Arngosadar, all the way to the Haasan Arenrad port, follow the road west to Noahdarn, then south across the Dalinoan - there's a bridge - and finally west to Nysaros."

Arn laughed. A ball formed in his throat. He barely made it to the pass - with his father.

"That will take weeks! Are you joking? It's a joke, right?" he said.

"I didn't say it was going to be easy. I called you kid a couple of times, but in truth, your childhood is over. You've gotten noticed. Osha'aland is probably not the best place for you anymore."

He knew she was honest, but this was too much for Arn to take in. His life melted in his hands like snow.

She must be wrong. She didn't know about De'al, and he didn't tell her about Ossagar's offer when he reached the capital.

Why would the Inspectorate want to - what, what would they even do? His thoughts raced to find a way out of the options she presented.

What if they're all wrong about the Inspectorate? So far, they had saved me, just like Ekalin did. Rana spoke of prisons, but she put me in prison; the Inspectorate saved me!

"You're wrong; you don't understand anything about the Inspectorate," he protested. "Ossagar himself invited me; he promised to help me. They saved me; they saved me from Rana - they saved me as much as you did."

"Oh, they saved you, did they?" she chuckled. "They sent you into a dangerous border town - and then saved you," Ekalin squinted and leaned in, "that doesn't sound like bait to you?"

"They didn't know about Rana!" Arn protested.

"Of course they did! Didn't you say that others were rescued too? Others who stayed there longer than you did?"

"So what?" Arn asked.

"Travelling scholars going missing for months and the Inspectorate never heard of it?"

"Maybe..." but Arn couldn't explain that himself, "but Ossagar -""Saggy bear nuts, Arn!" she cried, "you know nothing of this man! How naive can you be?"

"Neither do you," he yelled.

"That is my exact point," she yelled back.

He didn't know much about her either, except that she saved him. But so did Ossagar. But then, was Arn sure that Ossagar brought the Inspectorate to free him instead of simply going along with the Inspectorate's existing plans?

"You know less than you imagine," she said. "Many forces are acting upon events. The Inspectorate isn't even the greatest of them - you should seek anonymity and normalcy."

"I know things!" he cried. "I know of the Black Warden, and the spirits, and the Hand which moves the lives of men!"

Ekalin pursed her lips. She grabbed her Tjoreal and rushed out of the room. Arn called to her, but she ignored him. The ranger returned shortly.

"I'll trust you about the Tjoreal," she said. "When I think you've gotten yourself into a mess, you go on and mention something else, even worse."

"What are yo -"

"What you heard about the hand, you need to forget," she cut him off. Her face took on a severity he hadn't seen even during the avalanche. "People don't know what they're talking about," she dismissed his protest and continued, "it's just a legend, made up by those seeking meaning where there is none to be found."

"You just said that Inspectorate isn't the only one, or the greatest; what else would it be?" he asked.

"I know what I said, but I don't know what the greater power is," she replied.

"So it could be the Hand," Arn said.

"Or it could be a trio of scheming wolves," she rolled her eyes.

"Stop!" Arn yelled, "stop doing this, stop being this way, just stop it!"

"Fine," she said and averted her eyes. She sipped the tea, then twirled the liquid in the cup. "This whole Hand business," she started, "it's just a reincarnation of an old fable from Sulayan - that's the ancient name of our northern province that we now call Vule Sunal."

"What fable?" Arn asked.

"Lualinan," she said, "it means 'celestial memories,' or the four hearts of nature; it's known by more than one name. It's a story of the four great spirits which keep our world, two that always were, one that came to the world long ago, and the fourth that is yet to come."

"And these spirits control the inspectorate?" Arn asked.

"They control nothing; they're a legend."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. The Hand comes from this legend, and there isn't a hand either. It's all legends. The real powers lay hidden," she said.

"But there is still something, right?"

"You're not hearing me, Arn," she raised her voice.

"Yes, I am, I heard you, I heard this legend, it's not real - but you still say something else is out there. So what does it matter which name we call it?" he snapped at her.

"Khoar'Sae save me," she muttered.

"What is that?" Arn asked.

"Boy, I don't have time for this," she snapped at him.

They sat in silence, neither looking at the other. Ekalin seeped on her tea, and Arn just stared at the liquid in his cup.

"Take my advice, go to East Kadam. You'll have a good life, a long one," she said in a half-whisper.

"I'm not running away," Arn insisted.

"You don't understand," she said.

"I am done running; I will not run away, I will not, I will not," he yelled out.

"You've seen nothing. You have no idea what your words mean," Ekalin's voice was almost pleading, but Arn's ire overwhelmed his senses by now.

"Stop, stop, stop. Stop saying these things!" he cried.

"I'm telling you the truth, and it hurts to hear, doesn't it. You've lived a sheltered life, in a sheltered town, in a sheltered province. Only because the Inspectorate needed you to."

"Why - why do they need it?" Arn threw up his arms.

"You need to become anonymous, ordinary, and maybe they'll forget you - if you hadn't drawn too much attention yet."

"Maybe it's you," he growled, brows furrowed, finger pointing at her.

"Me? Me what?" she asked with genuine surprise.

"You're making me doubt the Inspectorate; you want me to be afraid and to run away."

"Well, yes," she admitted, "technically, it is true - but -"

"Rana told me that it is what the Inspectorate does," he growled.

"So you're listening to Clanless, the woman who imprisoned you in a dark cell?" she said.

"I am not listening to you; there's a difference."

"You spoiled brat, you know it all, don't you?" Ekalin shook her head, a grin on her lips though not her eyes. "Go where you will. I've done my job, I've saved you in my territory, I am no mentor to confused children." She snapped off the last words.

Arn's cup dropped to the floor and rolled under the bed. A puddle of tea grew beneath him. He watched her, fists clenched again. He stood now, looking down on her. She kept calling him names, boy, child - humiliating him, dismissing him. The familiar warmth burned in his belly, no longer ambers but a smouldering fire.

"You are no mentor," he growled, spittle flying. Her face became a mask; she wiped her cheek and gazed into his eyes. There were no emotions in her own. But that only drove him madder. "I am not a child," he yelled. Ekalin chuckled and looked him up and down.

The smouldering fire within him spat and crackled. Even now, she was laughing at him! "Stop laughing at me," he whispered. Fists clenching tighter, the nails digging into his palms.

"I think it's enough. Sit back down, now," the ranger's words came in a measured and even tone.

"No," he slowly said and poked her in the shoulder.

Even in that state, with his mind on fire, his senses awash with rage and indignation, he knew his mistake. Before Ekalin reacted, a wave of fear rushed up Arn's spine, extinguished his flame, and gave him just enough time to see her eyes. But it was too late.