Elyse awoke curled in a pile of furs, her arms wrapped around Cecil, the purr of her familiar a low, comforting rumble. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air. She lay still, for a moment, appreciating the breath filling her lungs. Her sleep had been blessedly dreamless. And she no longer felt as if she were dead.

Groggily, she sat up, and with a yawn, stretched until her joints popped. Even though she had not carried the moose yesterday, her legs still ached, even after a good rest; she felt as if she could sleep another two days straight, if need be. She could not imagine how sore Kells, Martimeos and Aela must be. As irritated as she had been at being told she was too small to help with the pulling, there as a silver lining.

She stumbled to her feet, eliciting an annoyed meow and a flick of the tail from Cecil, annoyed that she had disturbed his rest, and glanced about the room she had slept in. It was mostly unfamiliar to her. Last night, Grizel had bought them into the mountain halls of Dun Cairn, but Elyse had been so exhausted that she had barely taken note of her surroundings. She could dimly recall long, twisting hallways, and stairs carved into the rock itself, the walls covered in strange carvings, and lit by the occasional torch. But they had been led downward, ever downard, further into the mountain, where Grizel's chambers lay, and by the time the old Crosscraw witch had showed them their rooms, she had been nearly asleep on her feet. She was certain she had been out cold before her head even hit the bedding.

Now, though, she could tell the room she rested in was a strange one to use for sleep. Devoid of furniture, the room was not large, and every wall was covered in ornate carvings of what looked to be some sort of flying folk, their wings covered in strange, swirling, spiral patterns, always battling men with flowing beards and horned helms - similar to the carvings she and Martimeos had observed in Stelle Cairn. The stone floor was smooth and bare - where it was visible; animal hides from various creatures covered nearly every inch of it, making up a soft, comfortable bedding. And the center of the room was dominated by a statue of a man, nearly twice as tall as she was. He wore a strange type of scalloped armor, scaled and layered, that seemed to fit his broad-shouldered, muscular frame quite snugly, and wore a helm with long, curling horns that framed a fierce face, a long, flowing beard spilling down his chest in waves. He held out a bowl, but whatever it was once meant to contain, it was empty now.

Elyse stood, contemplating this statue, running her hands through her long, dark hair to untangle the knots, when she was alerted by the quiet rustle of movement behind her. She glanced through the door to the room, which led to another chamber lit by the flickering orange light of flame, and noticed someone's shadow on the wall there, moving. Someone was up.

The door led to Grizel's main chamber, a significantly larger room than the one Elyse had slept in. Though its walls were covered in similar carvings, no statues dominated the space here; it was much more reasonably furnished. A fireplace, carved into the rock itself, lay along one wall, in which a merry, warming blaze danced; dark doorways lined the walls, some which, she knew, led into the rooms that Martimeos and Kells had claimed for themselves. In one corner of this main chamber was a pile of furs; Aela slept there, the Crosscraw woman still unconscious, only her long red hair visible. In another corner lay a stone table, low to the ground, a dark wooden bowl full of incense smouldering upon it. And as she watched, Grizel sat cross-legged before this table, strange and colorful shawl draped about her, and began rummaging through-

"Hey!" Elyse snapped, stomping into the room, not stopping when the woman looked up at her in surprise. "Nickthief! That is not yours!" Beside Grizel lay Martim's pack, the old witch's bony fingers still rummaging through it.

Grizel merely cackled at her, and did not stop digging through the pack. "Keep yer voice down, ye wee ninny. Yer wizard gave me leave tae look through et as Ah please." Shaking a small pouch that she had drawn from the pack and hearing the clinking of coin within, Grizel snorted and tossed it aside. And then she withdrew a great cloth-wrapped bundle, tied with string, and deftly unwrapped it to reveal a glass jar stuffed with yet more cloth.

Elyse's eyes widened. "Careful," she said, stepping forward, meaning to snatch the jar away, but Grizel's deft fingers had already yanked the cloth away, revealing a jet-black egg that lay in the jar.

Elyse was a bit surprised by its appearance. It was the Mirrit-egg that she and Martim had gotten back in Silverfish, months ago. But then, when Martim had first pulled it from his wound, it had been the size of a robin's egg; now it was the size of a chicken's. She made a small sound of protest as Grizel curiously tipped the jar to let the egg roll onto the table - she did not want that thing cracking, who knew what might happen. The old witch plucked up the egg, murmuring at it appreciatively, then swept back long strangs of her wild gray hair to hold it up to her ear. "Ach, naow this es curious," she said, her keen eyes fixing on Elyse, green and sharp. "A Mirrit-egg. Strange thing tae be luggin' around."

Elyse sighed, folding her arms across her chest. It seemed at least Grizel had some knowledge of the thing, which was more than she could say herself; she had to assume the old witch was not about to crack it, if it were dangerous. "We...had an encounter, with a Mirrit, who left this behind as a sovenir. We kept it, not knowing what it was. I must admit I am ignorant. Is it a threat?"

Grizel remained staring at her for a long moment, frowning, turning the black egg around and around in her bony hands. "A threat?" she said quietly. "Nae, at least, nae yet. 'Twill take some time tae grow." The old witch gently placed the egg on the table, then flicked it with a finger, so that it spun around, wobbling. "En time, though, et will be. D'ye ken why?"

"Because...it is something from the Outside? The Land of Death's Door."

Grizel stopped the spinning of the egg with one bony finger, staring at it. "Nae. 'Tis jest th'other way around, actually. 'Tis nae merely of the Outside. Et es of both the Outside, an' here." Grizel paused for a moment, and then pinned Elyse with a long, hard stare that made her feel distinctly uncomfortable. "'Tis a door, ye see. Anythin' that es of both th'Outside an here es a door between our world an' theirs. Some Outsiders, they can make their way here, at least partway, wit' what their world has en common wit' ours. Others, though...the stranger they are, th' bigger the door they need." The old witch's eyes bored into her. "D'ye ken, lassie?"

Elyse felt herself beginning to sweat beneath that stare. Grizel's eyes were wild, unreadable, giving no indication of what the old woman was thinking. She opened her mouth to answer, when suddenly, from the corner, Aela moaned and began to stir.

Grizel leapt up, surprisingly nimble for her age - Elyse wondered whether the old woman even truly needed the cane she carried. "Go an' hold her," she ordered. She rolled her eyes as Elyse gave her a quizzical look. "Jest do et, make sure she doesnae harm herself," the old witch snapped, as she doddered away, cane clacking and long mane of silver hair trailing behind her, disappearing into one of the side rooms.

Uncertain, Elyse made her way to the pile of furs beneath which Aela slept, approaching it with some trepidation. The Crosscraw woman's face was contorted with misery, and she groaned, feebly thrashing against the hides that covered her. Her eyes shot open as Elyse drew close, and all at once, tears began to stream down her face. Elyse felt a strange, sick fear as Aela looked at her. Those eyes - they were not the twinkling green eyes Aela had before. They were bright with a burning, feverish madness. "Why?" Aela whispered to her, weakly. "Why will ye nae let me die?" She coughed, and then sobbed wildly, frantically.

Elyse rushed forward, unsure of what use she could be - the Crosscraw woman was larger and more muscular than her by far, and could likely easily overpower her if she wanted. But she found that Aela was much weaker now, as she gripped the Crosscraw woman's arms through the furs to prevent her from thrashing.. "Please! Ah beg of ye!" Aela cried weakly as she was pinned. "Ah need tae, please - kill me, Ah beg ye - Ah deserve tae die - Oh, Elyse, Ah'll love ye ferever, jest please kill me - et's all black an' gray, ye ken, how could ye be so cruel?"

Elyse grimly just held on as Aela babbled madness beneath her. She did not know how much stock to put into those words - some madness induced by the Bogge-King, meaningless, most like - but still, she was curious. "Why is it that you think you deserve to die?"

"The flames," the Crosscraw woman replied, eyes unfocused, her breath coming in ragged gasps, "Damn me, the flames, oh please, jest let it stop..."

Elyse pursed her lips. Then, she reached out with the Art. To heal the body was different from healing the mind, surely, but she wondered, with a wound in the mind as severe as this - perhaps she could sense the injury with the Art, perhaps -

Suddenly, she gasped; she had no sooner touched Aela with the Art than her skull felt as if it were coursing through with screaming flames, a howling, mad blaze, and somewhere within, somewhere deep within that fire, she could just make out - people were burning, and as they burned they screamed, and their howls of agony wove together into a chorus, the song of the Bogge-King -

The next thing she knew, Grizel's face was filling her vision, weathered and ancient, frowning and scornful. "That," the old witch said, "Was very stupid o' ye, lassie."

Elyse put a shaking hand to her temple as she sat up, her head still feeling as if it were full of ash. She looked around. Aela was asleep once more, no longer thrashing beneath the furs, her chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. Some sort of strange blue dye had been smeared across her eyes, though for what purpose, Elyse did not know. Grizel stood off to the side, leering curiously, leaning on her gnarled stick of a cane. "What was that," Elyse breathed, her voice unsteady and weak.

Grizel shrugged. "Et es what th' Bogge-King's song does tae a mind." The old witch gave a pitying look to Aela. "Ah dinnae ken ef Ah can help her. 'Twill depend."

"I don't understand, though." Elyse shook her head; the flames that had burnt through her mind were an already fading memory. "I heard the Bogge-King's song. So did Martim and Kells. None of us have...that in our heads. At least, I know I don't."

"O' course ye dinnae." The old witch gave Elyse a condescending look, not offering any help as she struggled to her feet, then turned to Aela, placing a bony hand gently upon the Crosscraw woman's forehead. "The Bogge-King's song is nae meant fer ye. Et es fer us Crosscraw alone he carries a special hate. Why else d'ye think 'tis us he hounds and slaughters, tae the point o' annihilation?" Grizel sighed, and her normally sharp eyes grew tired, haunted. "He got what he wanted. We are nae more."

"It seems to me you're still around and kicking," Elyse replied, brushing dust from her tattered black robes, legs still shaking and unsteady beneath her. Attempting to touch Aela's mind with the art had left her whole body feeling drained. "You still live, don't you? And Aela, and however many you have here in...." she gestured around, to the carved stone walls. "this place."

Grizel didn't look at her. The old witch remained staring at Aela, standing over her, quiet for a moment. "Aye," she murmured finally, seeming diminished somehow, as if some old, heavy weight had settled into her bones. "An' nae jest here, either. Ah am sure pockets o' the Crosscraw still live, here an' there. But ye dinnae ken what et was like, nae so long ago. Before the Wihite Queen's wars kilt half o' our menfolk. Before the Bogge-King kilt damn near th' rest. Before famine, an' disease, claimed so many o' us, since the forests were nae longer safe tae hunt reliably upon, nor fish, or forage." Finally, Grizel turned to her, face grim and shadow-haunted in the flickering light of the fire. "D'ye ken how few o' us remain, from before all that? Fewer than one in ten, Ah reckon."

Elyse didn't know what to make of that. Memories of a dream pulled at the back of her mind; a dream of a field of corpses, frozen in the snow, and a giant pile of bloody heads. She tried to imagine what Twin Lamps would have been like, how empty it would feel, with so many of its people in a grave. "But there are still some of you left," she said uncertainly. "Surely..."

But Grizel was just shaking her wizened head, long man of gray hair falling about her. "Ye dinnae need tae kill every last one o' us tae kill us as a people," she said simply. "All th' clans which nae longer exist, all the holds that naow lie empty and fergotten. The children we hae, who hae never known what et es tae live free beneath th' sky, who hae only known us as hidin' and hunted. Nae use tae deny et; the Bogge-King won. We'll never be that people again. Even th' daemons who hunt us ken that, Ah think. They seem content tae simply kill what few o' us hide fer sport, these days." She shrugged, sighing, as she walked across the room, her cane quietly tapping against the stone floor. "Et es what et es. All stories end, sometime. Some might hae said th' Bogge-King's work were done fer him before he started. Even before all th' horror, us Crosscraw were but a remnant of what our ancestors were. None livin' today could carve a place like Dun Cairn intae th' mountain."

"As long as some live, though," Elyse insisted. There was something about the old witch's tired resignation that irritated her; Grizel spoke as if she and her people were already dead. "That is what matters, is it not? You're still here among your mountains."

"Nae fer long," Grizel replied softly, as she tossed more logs into the fireplace. "There will come a day when the crags lie empty. Those of us who live will do so among the lowlanders, an' eventually, become as they are. Ah ken et, fer Ah hae seen et en mah dreams. An ye'd ken a bit about that, would ye nae, lassie." She stared into the flames, her back to Elyse. "About dreams, an' the things ye see en them."

Elyse blinked, frowning. "All I know is that dreams are a lot of strange nonsense."

Grizel paused, and then turned to peer at her curiously. "Es that so," she muttered. And then she broke into a toothy, unnerving grin. "Es that so."

Elyse was about to answer her when, in one of the dark doorways, Kells appeared, shirtless, yawning and gazing around blearily with cloudy gray eyes, his short dark hair a ruffled mess. He moved stiffly as he stumbled into the room, as if unwilling to bend his joints, wincing with every step. "Morning," he muttered, as he slowly made his way to the fire to warm himself, "Or noon, or whenever it is. Hard to tell in here, really. Never thought I'd find a stone floor so comfortable to sleep on. I feel like I could rest another week, easy." He held his hands out towards the fireplace, then frowned, as he slowly became aware of Grizel staring him up and down. "What is it?" he asked, unnerved by the witch's consideration. "You're looking at me like you want to put me in a cookpot."

Grizel reached up to poke Kells' stomach with her cane; he glared at her as she did so. "Ah was jest thinkin yer a fine lookin' laddie," she grinned, keen eyes trailing along his leanly muscled chest. "Ef ye were nae a queensman, some o' th' women here would be lookin' tae snatch ye up as a husband. Ah could git used tae ye paradin' around mah chambers with nae shirt."

Kells laughed uncomfortably, forced, glancing towards Elyse with uneasy eyes, as if asking for help. "Don't look at me," she scoffed. "Go around half-naked and you can hardly blame others for looking."

Kells grumbled something about subtlety and not knowing the meaning of it, but Grizel simply ignored him. "Regardless. With the three o' ye awake naow, we can hae a wee gab, Ah think, about what brings ye here. Jest need yer wizard tae find his way back."

"Martimeos is awake already?" Elyse was a bit surprised by this. She would have thought the wizard would have slept in the most out of all of them, exhausted by the pulling of the moose yesterday.

"Awake?" Grizel chuckled. "Ah dinnae think he even slept. Decided tae wander th' halls instead. Should be careful, that one. Too many dreams can drive ye mad, but so can not enough."

Kells looked distinctly concerned, furrowing his brow, but Elyse had to struggle to contain a raw, dark anger that surged up from within her, clenching her fists and gritting her teeth. It was not enough that Martim had left her thinking him dead, and not enough that he would not even speak of what he had seen, but now the fool wouldn't even take proper care of himself. It made her oddly furious, both at him, for daring to make her worry, and, in some dark corner of her mind, furious with herself, for caring over him at all, a small voice that whispered to her, your mother warned you what would happen to men you cared for.

They ate their breakfast - or perhaps a lunch; Kells was right, it was impossible to be certain what time of day it was deep within the mountain halls - digging into their rations for bread and cheese. Grizel ate very little herself , preparing a thin bone broth in a small black cauldron on the fire; this she enlisted the help of Kells to try to force some down Aela's throat. It was a wretched affair, the Crosscraw woman waking in the middle of her feeding and spitting out the broth, sobbing and screaming once more, struggling against Kells as he held her down grimly, not stopping until Grizel waved a bony hand and she fell immediately back into a fitful sleep of shallow breaths and occasional whimpers.

Martimeos returned shortly after, preceded by Flit, who took up a nest in Grizel's long gray hair once more, despite the muttered protests of the old witch. Despite her best attempts to hold onto her anger - she had a right to be angry at him, Elyse thought, it felt good to be angry - she found it fading away as she watched him. Something was wrong with Martim. He offered feeble excuses, puffing on his pipe, forcing a chuckle as he told a concerned Kells that all the excitement yesterday had left him too hot-blooded to sleep properly. But when he thought no one was looking, Martim's face would crack, his tired and bloodshot eyes sagging, his false grin slipping. He looked lost, withdrawn, barely able to focus, and not even bothering to eat.

Elyse had known Martim long enough by now to know that he could be a very good liar, when he wanted to, and a secret-keeper as well. It was only all the more concerning that the wizard now did such a poor job at hiding that something bothered him. It was something to do with the Bogge-King, surely, but what? He was obviously not so cursed as Aela, but had the creature done something else to his mind? Who knew what such an Outsider might have done - one that made the very shadows spin, that the world itself struggled against. She shuddered at the memory of the thing; the great black stain that had been the Bogge-King, the maddening feeling of being a corpse that it bought with it. How had Martim escaped such a daemon?

Her curiousity prickled her, until she felt seized with the urge to drag Martim aside and make him speak. She didn't care what secrets the wizard wanted to keep, he owed it to her to tell her, for how much he had made her worry.

But before she could do anything, Grizel interrupted her plans. The old witch had fetched a bundle of strange looking plants - dried and curling leaves that looked oddly furred, as if coated with the fine down of some animal. These she tossed into the fireplace, where they quickly began to smoulder and burn, and with a wave of her hand, a gust of air blew the smoke so that it did not travel up the chimney, but rather, hung heavy within the chamber itself, swirling eddies drifting slowly and lazily through the air. Elyse coughed, a bit, as she breathed in the smoke. It had a surprisingly sweet smell and taste to it; she did not recognize, though, what the plant had been.

Nodding approvingly as the smoke filled the room, Grizel drew her colorful shawl of interlocking shapes and patterns around her shoulders, and sat cross-legged next to the fireplace, setting her cane aside. "Naow then," she said, "Ye hae traveled up th' mountain tae see auld Grizel. Why do ye nae take a seat, an' we can blether on about what fer ye came, an' what led ye tae me."

They took a seat around the witch, next to the fireplace, lounging upon furs and hides piled against the bare stone floor, breathing in the sweet-smelling smoke that streamed from the plants. Grizel sat, watching them, waiting for them to speak, occasionally reaching up to poke at Flit, who still sat nestled within her hair.

Elyse and Kells - who had since put his jacket on - both looked to Martim to tell their tale. The wizard was the best among them with words, and they both expected him to be the one to speak. But Martimeos sat silent, still withdrawn, black-furred cloak wrapped tightly around his shoulders, lanks of his shaggy dark hair hanging over his face, lost in thought as he played absent-mindedly with the red scarf about his neck. And so, frowning, Kells was the one who spoke - telling Grizel of the bogge-man who had haunted Twin Lamps, of Martim and Elyse's arrival, the eventual discovery of Maddie and defeat of the bogge-man, and the lingering mark it had left on their minds. He spoke plainly, with little embellishment, and none of the meandering tangents Martimeos usually graced his tellings with; and soon enough the strory was done.

Grizel nodded thoughtfully as it was told, and spat contemptuously into the fire once it was finished. "That fer the bogge-man," she said, "And fer Maddie as well, come tae think of et, th' ungrateful wretch. Ah did mah best tae teach her, an' never did she listen well; her mind were always half-occupied by thoughts of how tae escape. Ah had thought her kilt. Ah suppose Ah'm glad tae hear 'tis not the case." She cast a keen eye at them, looking at each of the three in turn, as she waved more smoke into the room through small wind conjured by the Art. "An' so that es what drove ye tae me, tae seek out someone who may help ye with the mark that lingers in yer minds."

"And my brother," Martimeos spoke up suddenly. All turned to face him; his green eyes were smouldering with a strange, feverish intensity, shadows from the fireplace playing across his face, as he stared intently at Grizel. "I came to follow my brother's trail. What can you tell me of him, witch?"

Grizel tutted, frowning at Martimeos. "Ah tol' ye when ye pestered me last night, tae wait," she replied, "An' Ah tell ye again naow. First, we should-"

"No." Martim remained staring at her, his eyes wild and fierce. "Tell me - who was with him? I know you spoke to him, what did he say? Where did he go?"

The old witch was quiet for a long moment, staring at the wizard, sharp eyes glittering. "Ye really want tae know, laddie?" she muttered. "Fine. I met yer brother, aye, him and one other, a huntsman. Together, they near kilt mah familiar, Mors Rothach - ye hae met him, Ah ken - and drew me out. When Ah went intae the forest tae help Mors, the huntsman slew mah escort, an' yer brother held me captive with th'Art. An we had ourselves a wee talk. Blethered on long, about many things. First o' which was him tellin' me that he meant tae pass through our lands, an that' either Ah could help him, or die there, along wit' mah familiar, an' also hae the deaths o' many more on mah head, fer he'd kill all who crossed his path."

Elyse watched as Martim's eyes widened, and he sat back in his furs, quiet, his face half-hidden in shadow. "What did you do?" she asked Grizel quietly, after the wizard did not speak further.

"Ah helped him, o' course." Grizel breathed the smoke hanging in the air deeply, closing her eyes as she did so. "Fer all mah skill wit' th'Art, that wizard handled me like Ah were a newborn babe. He was nae a man tae be trifled with. Nae was the huntsman, fer that matter. 'Twas war business, besides; Ah could tell that much, an' Ah had nae care fer that. Ah tol' him o' the hidden an' secret paths through th' crags, where he were nae likely tae encounter anyone. An' fer that, he let me live. Ah might hae betrayed him - set up an ambush, when Ah got back - but Ah ken enough o' th'Art tae tell that a wizard like that would nae go down witout fillin' more than a few graves first. An Ah had nae desire tae send more of our folk tae their deaths fer th'honor o' th' White Queen." Grizel spat into the fire once more, scowling.

"What did you mean, by calling him 'The Black Stag'?" Martim asked, once more lifting his eyes to her, though now he seemed more subdued. "You said you spoke to him about many things. What else?"

"Ah think, laddie," Grizel said quietly, "Ye may want tae hear that en private. Ye ken?" Elyse felt irritation flare up insider her once more as the old witch spoke this - she was curious herself, and Martimeos did not need further help in keeping secrets - but, she realized suddenly, her anger felt muted. She felt strangely relaxed, for some reason; light and empty.

"Well," said Kells, after a moment of silence, "That leaves the issue of the marks." He stifled a yawn, then blinked, as if surprised. "I, for one, would prefer not to live with nightmares of bogge-men my whole life. Maddie said you may be able to help."

Grizel's eyes lingered on Martim for a bit longer, before turning to Kells. "Ah cannae remove a mark. Nae, at least, from a livin' bogge-man. But what ye hae, well..." The old witch dug around in her furs, and from within them, drew out a leather thong that hung from about her neck. Fromt he end of it dangled a stone, a bit smaller than a fist, carved into a smooth gray ring, and lined with a strange, spiralling pattern.

Elyse gave a start. She knew what that was. It was a witch-stone, and though she knew nothing of the making of it herself - it took great knowledge to make such a thing - it was a powerful instrument of the Art. Her mother had kept one, and besides its other uses - for there were many - by looking through the hole, one could see things as they truly were. And not just seeing through glamour, either. Seeing things as they actually were. She fiddled nervously with her ring, feeling naked as Grizel peered through the witch-stone, one green eye gleaming through the hole, looking at each of them in turn.

Grizel gave Elyse a toothy yellow grin, as she passed her eye over her. "Secrets," she murmured. The old witch turned to Martimeos, still grinning as she looked at him as well. "Secrets upon secrets." Martimeos just stared flatly back at her; Grizel cackled delightedly, turning to Kells last. "Aye. Ah can see well what has been done tae ye. Ah dinnae ken ef et can be fixed. But perhaps. Ef et cannae be done wit' a livin bogge-man's mark, perhaps et can be done wit' a dead one's."

Kells clapped his hands, giving Elyse and Martimeos a rueful smile. "Good thing we climbed a mountain, got nearly killed twice, and broke our backs carrying a moose, all so we could leave our fates up to the roll of the dice. It just wouldn't be fun otherwise, would it." He sighed, as he glanced back towards Grizel. "So, what do you need to do? Let me guess, you have to cut off our noses to even see if it would work."

The old witch wrinkled her nose, giving Kells a look of disgust, as she tucked away her witch-stone. "Dinnae be ridiculous. Et es nae somethin' Ah will be doin', anyway. Et es somethin' ye must do. I can try tae help."

Martimeos, Elyse and Kells all glanced at one another.

"What...ah!" Elyse's jaw cracked as she let out an uncontainable yawn. She blinked, and shook her head, trying to clear some of the drowsiness from it. "What do you mean, something we must do?"

Grizel just gave another unsettling grin, as she waved yet more smoke into the room from the fireplace. "Tell me," she said slyly, "Have ye heard o' the Land o' Dreams?"

There was a moment of long silence. "...A bit," Martim said quietly. "I have not studied it closely. And what I have read has been contradictory." His head nodded forward, as he spoke, and he blinked, as if struggling to keep his eyes open.

Grizel tutted disapprovingly, her strange shawl seeming to swim in the sweet smoke filling the room. "Ah would hae thought ye lowlanders would ken about et. Auld Grizel knows, ye see. Oh yes, Ah walk The Dream. We all do, en one way or another, ye see. Et es another world, ye ken, that we go tae when we sleep. Most folk, they only go there a little bit. Ye ken? They sleep, they go there partway. Others though...." The old witch glanced towards Elyse, her eyes glowing like green fire. "Ye go there more fully. Et es a strange place, the Land o' Dreams. Ye can see what was, an' what will be, ef ye ken how tae look. An' other strange things, as well. The fae, they are often there, though Ah dinnae ken how or fer what."

"I'm sorry," Kells said, as he struggled to keep his eyes open, "What does this have to do with ridding us of our marks?"

"Jest this, mah braw handsome laddie," Grizel said, and then she clapped her bony hands together. And suddenly, the smoke filling the room was no longer simply gray; it lit up with a swirling rainbow of color, the greens of a spring forest, the reds and orange of a rosy dawn, the deep and dark blues of tranquil lakes, and a dozen other hues besides. Too late, Elyse realized the drowsiness that she was feeling was not natural, as the patterns in Grizel's shawl seemed to move and dance on their own. The old witch's voice seemed to echo as she continued to speak. "We all live partway here, an' partway en The Dream. But some creatures, like th' bogge-men, they ken haow tae move about et. 'Tis haow they get intae yer heads, ye see. One foot en the Land o' Dreams, an one in yer skulls. So if ye want tae rid yerselves of et, et's The Dream ye must walk."

Elyse thought she should feel outrage, or anger - she should feel something, for this witch sending her to sleep without permission - but she felt none of that. The rainbow smoke swirled hypnotically before her eyes, and her eyelids felt heavy as lead; the furs she sat upon felt so comfortable and soothing that she could not stop herself from lying down. She glanced over, and saw that Martimeos already looked as if he were asleep, his long, shaggy hair falling across his face as he lay collapsed on the furs, and Kells was not far behind, trying to prop himself up on one elbow, gray eyes blinking furiously, mouth opening as if trying to say something, though nothing escaped but a yawn.

Her own eyes closing no matter how much she struggled, Elyse heard Grizel speak one last time, before the darkness claimed her. "Dinnae worry. Auld Grizel has sent ye on yer way. An' auld Grizel will try tae follow. Jest dinnae get kilt before Ah get there."