Despite Aela's insistence that the other Crosscraw would become more hospitable once they had heard tale of how the lowlanders had saved her from the Bogge-King, there was, apparently, no such luck. Not that no progress was made at all, but when Grizel and Aela returned to the old witch's chambers, they reported that the other Crosscraw were taking the time to consider whether or not to let the lowlanders into the upper reaches of their home carved into the mounain, into the proper halls of Dun Cairn. So for the time being, Kells, Elyse and Martimeos had to remain within Grizel's chambers, down in the dark, amongst the tombs. Aela, red-faced and muttering apologies, declared that until the three lowlanders were allowed into the upper halls, she would be staying down here in Grizel's chamber with them, as an act of protest.

In all truth, Martimeos did not know whether he wanted her there with them, for a variety of reasons. First, something that gnawed at him and set him on edge - while Aela did not seem to remember much of the dream from which they had rescued her, Grizel knew that the Bogge-King was Hadley. While the old witch swore, with a wink and a cackle, that she would not tell, it was a risk - if the other Crosscraw learned that the Bogge-King was an old friend of his, they would likely not react as calmly as the old witch did. Perhaps he was being unfair, and they would not judge him harshly for it. Or perhaps they would hack him to bits in revenge. Along with anyone else with him.

He discussed this with Kells and Elyse, since he did not know what to do, trapped here as they were. The soldier bought up a good point - were they truly trapped here, any longer? If the Bogge-King knew of Martimeos, would that mean the other bogge-men would now leave them alone? Could they simply....walk off the mountain, if they wanted? They had everything they came for, after all. The curse of the bogge-man was lifted from them, and Martim knew from Grizel the paths his brother had walked. Did they truly need to stay here at all?

But Martim did not know. He did not know if Hadley being the Bogge-King meant they were now safe from the bogge-men. And while he did not tell Kells and Elyse this, there was a part of him that felt that he was unfinished, here. He could not simply walk away, and forget that Hadley was here upon these mountains, committing a slaughter in his name. But neither did he know what he could do about it. He might ask Grizel about it - who knew what the ancient crone might know - but not while Aela was here. Not while she was anywhere near here. He did not want to risk the Crosscraw woman finding out the truth. And so Elyse suggested that they simply wait. "I think we deserve a bit of rest," the witch said, "And besides, I am curious as to what the rest of Dun Cairn is like. And what baths they have to offer."

The other reason he felt uncomfortable having Aela around was, well...the Crosscraw woman was behaving oddly. If he didn't know any better, he would have said she was in love with Kells and Elyse both. You could almost see the stars in her eyes whenever Aela looked at either the soldier or the witch, and she was constantly blushing and showering them with affection when she was around them. Kells took it all in stride - for all Martim knew, the soldier enjoyed the attention. But there were more than a few times that Aela withered beneath Elyses's sharp-tongued retorts and admonitions, when she became overly affectionate towards the witch. Martimeos almost felt sorry for the Crosscraw woman; she took it rather harshly, whenever Elyse snapped at her. She was just trying to show gratitude, Martim supposed, in her own odd way.

Which would have been fine, except that she treated Martim himself differently from Kells or Elyse. Whenever Aela saw him, she would grow silent, or even hide. Martim caught her, more than a few times, watching him pensively while biting her thumbnail, and she stared often enough that even Flit felt the need to report it to him. It was maddening, and made Martimeos paranoid. He began to wonder whether Aela actually had remembered something from the Dream, and knew that the Bogge-King was his friend. But no, for the woman confided in Kells and Elyse, and apparently, though she could remember nothing, she had a lingering sense of overwhelming guilt whenever she looked at him. Something that remained from whatever the Bogge-King had done to her mind, to make her feel such suicidal grief over the destruction of Pike's Green. What he found odd in particular about this was that she did not even know he was from Pike's Green. The only explanation was that when the Bogge-King's mind had touched hers, she had gained some knowledge from it. Knowledge that, while she did not remember it, left a channel for her guilt to run through.

But however it might have happened, it meant that Aela behaved incredibly meek whenever he was near. Too overwhelmed by a sense of guilt to behave normally, and too confused by what she should be feeling guilty over to apologize properly. It was odd to see the Crosscraw woman, normally boisterous in other situations, behaving like a chastened child. And, Martim reflected ruefully, all over guilt she shouldn't even rightfully be feeling. She slowly became less awkward, as time passed, but still she avoided facing him alone. At least it stopped her from showering him with the kisses and hugs that so vexed Elyse.

Grizel grumbled at having so many in her chambers, but in the end seemed oddly accomodating for an old crone. Perhaps because her chambers included so many empty stone rooms, more than enough for each of her visitors to have a room to themselves. Or perhaps because the old witch, in the end, felt no need to show any courtesy to her guests. Martimeos knew there were certain plants whose leaves, when smoked, or mushrooms, when consumed, could make you see things. Grizel was a voracious consumer of a wide variety of these; she had an entire room dedicated to stockpiles of them. Often they were awoken by odd-smelling smoke, and the sound of Grizel's mad cackling, only to find the witch clearly out of her skull, babbling nonsense. It was necessary, she said; it helped her to communicate with the spirits, though Martim had no idea what possible communication she could be doing while in that state.

Aela's brother, Torcull, would visit from time to time as well, the haggard, one-armed Crosscraw man chiding Aela for her foolishness in refusing to go to the upper levels - and to remind her to keep her mouth shut, it seemed, around Kells, Elyse, and Martim. It seemed the Crosscraw had a taboo about speaking of issues such as clan and kin to lowlanders; Aela might have been more than ready to cross that line, but Torcull - or Torc, as Aela called him - seemed uncomfortable that they even knew he was her brother, at times. Martimeos began to get the impression that the question of whether or not they would be allowed into the upper reaches of Dun Cairn involved more than simply getting the permission to walk there.

For a week like this, they waited - perhaps more, for it was hard to keep track of the passage of days deep here in the mountain. Martim was glad, at first, for the opportunity to rest his bones, but soon found himself becoming restless. He and Elyse went to walk among the tombs, to marvel at the Art Grizel had weaved there. They could make heads nor tails of it; neither of them had ever seen something like this, a weaving of the Art that covered so much of the mountain, and it was necromancy besides. They asked Grizel about it, but the old witch returned their questions with nothing but a toothy grin, and told them it would take years to teach them enough to understand it, let alone reproduce it themselves. There were times, walking those dark stone halls full of bones, when Martimeos felt watched. But never did he catch sight of the spirits that the old witch supposedly talked to, the ones that protected Dun Cairn.

Soon enough, though, he began to worry. While they rested here, they ate only the rations they had bought along with them - the Crosscraw offered them food, but it seemed wrong to take food from a folk who risked their lives to obtain it when they had other meals available. But if they continued on like this for much longer, still receiving no answer from the Crosscraw, they would soon begin to run low.

Fortunately, though, their answer came before that happened.

Aela sat cross-legged on the stone floor in Grizel's center chamber, the dancing orange light of a crackling fire glowing in her wild red hair. She busied herself braiding the long, dark tresses of Elyse, who sat next to her. The witch muttered beneath her breath, fidgeting, tapping her fingers on her knees, as the Crosscraw woman hummed quietly. "I do not like this," she declared.

Aela looked up, blinking her bright green eyes in surprise. "Ah can braid et different, ef ye want."

Elyse shot her a look that could have withered an entire harvest's worth of crops. "Not my hair," she snapped. She swung an arm around the chamber, at the cold stone walls and the shadows that the fire just could not banish dancing in the corners. "I'm talking about all of this. Stuck in some little hole. I feel like a rat. Not to mention, I need a bath. Not even a river or stream here to bathe in. You can go and traipse offf to bathe whenever you want, though fortune knows you don't do it enough."

Aela reddened, and she looked down at the ground, fiddling with Elyse's hair so much it threatened to become knotted. "'Tis...shameful how they make ye wait, Ah agree," she murmured. "An' Ah'm so sorry fer thinkin ye'd be able tae walk th'halls of Dun Cairn bah naow. Ef et's any consolation, Ah think ye still smell pretty."

Elyse snorted. "By your standards, a sty would smell pretty," she retorted, and Aela's smile went crooked as she looked down at the ground, ashamed.

Kells sat in a corner of the room, on a pile of furs, idly sharpening his sword. His gray eyes flicked upwards, and he frowned at Elyse. "It is getting a bit long in waiting for an answer," he muttered. "Honestly, it gets to you, so rarely seeing the sky. I don't know how you Crosscraw handle it." He raised a curious eyebrow at Aela. "Especially you. You have an awfully cheerful demeanor for someone trapped as you are."

Aela seemed to take the remark as a compliment; she beamed at Kells, brushing strands of her long red mane out of her face. "Ah git out tae hunt naow an' then," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's nae as ef Ah dinnae ever see th' sky."

"Still," Kells shrugged, as he went back to sharpening his sword, "Takes some real resilience to stay cooped up in here and keep your temper. You could take some lessons from her, Elyse."

Martimeos was leaned up against a corner of the wall, relaxing, watching this. He chewed the stem of his pipe, staring thoughtfully at the Crosscraw woman as she laughed at the compliment, and Elyse grumbled and fumed. Blue smoke coursed from his nostrils as he exhaled, spiraling lazily throught he air. He had similar thoughts to Kells, at least once or twice. Aela did seem unusually light-hearted for someone in her position, someone trapped and watching her people die. It was a stark contrast to Maddie, Inna and Petra, the Crosscraw women they had met in Twin Lamps, who had been wracked with such deep despair when speaking of their lives among the crags.

But he did not know how much of Aela's cheerfulness was true, and how much a facade. He had been watchful of the Crosscraw woman, because of the unusual way she had been acting around him. And he had noticed that whenever Aela thought no one was watching, her smile dropped, and she had a habit of staring vacantly, the lights behind her bright green eyes dimming.

Before he could think much more on this, there came, echoing down the hallways, the sound of a cane knocking against stone, heralding Grizel's return. The old witch had been gone all day, and they knew not where - she had a habit of coming and going as she pleased. But when Grizel rounded the corner and appeared in the doorway, she was not alone. Torcull stood beside her, the Crosscraw man towering over the stooped old crone, his face as unreadable as stone.

Grizel coughed and harrumphed, clearly irritated, as she cast one keen eye about the room, fingers pattering rapidly across the top of her gnarled cane. "Th' Chief," she said, "Would like tae speak tae ye." She gave a foul, toothy frown. "An' he apparently thought et so important as tae use me fer his messenger. Th' cheek o' him, Ah swear. Ah was already auld when he was still runnin' about as a nekkid carefree child."

Kells, Elyse and Martimeos glanced at each other. "I see," Martim said, after a moment. "Is he coming down here to meet us, then?"

Beside Grizel, Torc shook his head slowly, strands of his long, thin red hair falling about his shoulder. "No," he said quietly. "He'd like ye tae come meet him."

In a flash, Aela was on her feet, eyes bright and gleaming. "Es this et, then?! They're finally lettin' these three intae th'rest o' Dun Cairn?!"

Torc gave a heavy sigh. "Et appears so," he muttered, glancing towards Kells and Elyse with dark-set eyes, frowning. Martim wondered if Torc was upset by this fact. Aela's brother was an odd one; whenever he came by, he was courteous enough to Martim himself, but had nothing but frowns and glares for Kells and Elyse. Perhaps part of the Crosscraw's particular displeasure with Queensmen, but one would think that his sister's life being saved might have overcome that.

Aela gave a wordless shout of excitement, bouncing on her heels. Grizel, however, looked somewhat rueful and chastened as she stepped into the chambers, groaning. "Ah should hae guessed why he insisted Ah come and git ye, though Torc alone should hae served tae fetch," she muttered. "Ah wanted tae be there when first ye met wit' him, but Ah ent climbin' those stairs tae th' upper halls agin so soon. Take heed, lowlanders. The Chief ent a bad man, but he es a canny one. Et ent nae idle questions he had en mind fir ye, Ah am sure."

As Aela excitedly pulled Kells and Elyse to their feet, regaling them with promises of a feast and the sights of Dun Cairn, Martimeos stepped close to Torc. Puffing on his pipe, he spoke low enough that only the Crosscraw man could hear him. "Am I right in guessing," he said, "That you don't approve of this decision?"

Torc, who had been watching his sister's liveliness with a surprisingly grim expression, glanced down at Martim in surprise. He tugged at his short beard with his one arm, then sighed. "Et es nae a small thing fer lowlanders tae be allowed intae Dun Cairn proper," he muttered. "Ah wouldnae hae minded ef et were just ye - ye did help save mah sisters life, after all, but...." Torc's eyes flicked upwards, to where Aela laughed excitedly, with her arms draped across a stoic Kells and a clearly irritated Elyse. "Ah ken ye say the witch ent one, and the man there never served her. But those two look like Queensmen either way. Ah dinnae hold et against them mahself, but...Ah worry et will cause trouble. Many o' th' men here, they...." Torc paused for a moment, his eyes looking inward, as he rubbed the shoulder where his right arm should be. "They remember what was done durin' the Queen's War."

"You mean, the betrayal of you? At the Battle of Black Waters, as I have heard your folk call it." Martim thought back to what Maddie had told them, in Twin Lamps. How the Queen's forces, at the final battle of the war, had abandoned the Crosscraw, leaving them to be slaughtered.

But Torc, surprisingly, shook his head. "Et were nae just that," he said quietly. "Et were nae just what were done tae us, lowlander."

Martimeos frowned curiously at this, and opened his mouth to ask Torc what he meant by that, but before he could speak, he was interrupted. Aela had roused both Kells and Elyse, dragging the witch and soldier to their feet, and now stood before the doorway, her excitement barely contained. "What're we waitin' fer?" she said, giving her brother a friendly punch in the arm. "Th'Chief wants tae meet these three, so let's get our feet movin'. Nae use tae sit around here on our arses any longer than we have tae."

Torc gave his sister a weary, exasperated smile. "Right," he said, "Follow me."

He led them out of Grizel's chambers, into the long stone halls that, in one direction, led to the dark and ancient tombs of the Crosscraw, thick with Art and necromancy. He took them in the opposite direction, and it was not long before they met with stairs carved into the rock, stairs that spiralled upwards and upwards, long enough to make their legs sore. Grizel's chambers, and the tombs, really were isolated very much from the rest of Dun Cairn, and connected only by this spiralling staircase which few ever made their way down.

Past this, they faced a fresh blast of cold air, as they walked through the halls that led to the entrance into Dun Cairn on the side of the mountain. And then, from there, a set of broad stone stairs that led up into Dun Cairn proper.

The stairway was massive; large enough for thirty men to stride abreast, and lit well by torches lining the walls, smalll troughs carved into the rock itself filled with logs to keep a constant blaze that made the stairs comfortably warm (and just a little too hot for Elyse). Carved into the walls were reliefs of a series of serious-looking men with long, flowing beards, dressed in jointed plate armor, and wielding long blades; ancient Crosscraw leaders, Aela told them, names long lost to time, though Torc corrected her - no one was even sure if this was actually true, that these men had actually been leaders at all. Beneath each man lay a plaque, inscribed with glyphs that no one alive could read any longer. If they described the deeds of these men, or something else, was yet another detail long lost to the mists of time.

Occasionally, the stairways broke off into short hallways that lead to large stone rooms. Martimeos glimpsed at these as they passed. Many of them seemed to serve as larders, containing butchered and dried meat, and what vegetation the Crosscraw managed to forage for their meals. One of these rooms, however, contained something far more interesting. A large circular theater had been carved into the rock, and the center had been filled with a layer of sand. Though Martimeos caught only a glimpse of it as they passed, it looked large enough to seat hundreds, although, for now, only around a dozen Crosscraw men sat on the carved stone benches. In the center, two men grappled with each other, in the sand, snarling and shouting at each other, as the others watched on.

They passed before they had been noticed, and Martimeos remarked upon this to Torcull. "Aye," said the Crosscraw man, glimpsing down the hallway, where the sounds of the men's struggle echoed. "Among us Crosscraw, ef ye feel ye hae been slighted, ye can challenge another tae a fight. Three kinds, we hae: Tae surrender, tae first blood, and tae the death." He gave a frown, snorting as more yells echoed down the hallway. "Nae so fond of et mahself, tae tell th' truth. What's th' use o' beatin' on each other en a sand pit?"

Aela gave her brother a mischievous look, a sly, mocking smile. "Ye say tha', but Ah can remember ye steppin' intae th' pit yerself a few times."

Torc snorted in response. "Some fool young men thought that Ah was easy prey when Ah came back witout mah arm. Ah had tae show them Ah could still outfight them wit or witout et."

"Ah think ye'd still gladly step intae th' pit ef et were nae fer yer wife tannin yer hide fer et," Aela responded, her smirk growing even more devious. "Ye menfolk are all alike. Ye like tae show off fer th' ladies."

"Women. Ye think everythin' men do es fer ye." Torc shook his head, and gave his younger sister a rueful look. "Ah ken why th' men fight so much nowadays. Et's tae blow off steam, since ye womenfolk willnae let us step outside th' halls tae hunt."

Aela's smile slipped a bit, and she grew more subdued. "Et's because we lost too many o' ye already," she murmured, hugging her thick red mane of hair to her as she looked down at the ground. "Tae many tae th' Queen's war, and tae many tae the bogge-men. We didnae want ye all tae die."

Eventually, they reached the end of the broad staircase, after what seemed like far too long a time to be climbing it; certainly, this part of Dun Cairn must be carved close to the mountain's peak. At the top lay what looked like a grand doorway, an arch nearly three times as tall as Martimeos was, and just as broad as the staircase, though if any doors had once filled this gap, they had long since disappeared. And above this arch was carved a beast Martimeos recognized: A lizard breathing fire, but with large bat-like wings, outstretched and permanently etched into the stone. A dragon. He had heard many tales involving dragons, enough to wonder if these creatures were real, but never read anything from anyone who had actually claimed to have seen one themselves.

As they approached the doorway, Aela took a deep, calming breath. "Alright," she said quietly to herself, "Here we go."

Martimeos gave the Crosscraw woman an odd look for that, but was soon distracted by the wonder of what lay before him as he stepped through the doorway.

The first thing that struck him was the sheer, massive size of the chamber that lay beyond. Vaulted ceilings so high that they disappeared into darkness; supported by smooth stone pillars as thick around as a small house, great columns that made him feel dwarfed, like he was a small doll in a giant's house. Set into the columns were more gargantuan statues of Crosscraw men, seated in great high-backed stone chairs, spiralling beards drifting down their chests to their laps, stern faces eternally frozen in stone. And the chamber stretched out into the far distance, as well, far enough that Martim could not tell what lay at the end of it, though it was well-lit by fire pits set into the floor.

The second thing that struck him was how pathetically empty it all seemed. Long stone-carved tables and benches lay between the columns, enough to seat perhaps thousands; and while there were many Crosscraw here - nearly all women, he noted - they were not enough to fill even a small portion of the chamber. And they had fur-stitched tents set up, here and there, among the tables - this was where most of the Crosscraw lived, he realized, in these sad, pitiful dwellings set up amongst the dusty memory of abandoned former glory - even with their homes made here, it was not enough to fill the room. It was a sight at once breathtaking and sad; to think that the Crosscraw had once been capable of building such wonders, so long ago, and were now reduced to this.

The moment they set foot through the doorway, Aela stepped forward, placed her hands on her hips, and with a broad smile on her face, bellowed "Ah'm back! Did ye miss me?"

Her words echoed off the walls, and dozens of red-haired heads of women sitting at the stone tables immediately turned to stare at them. Aela, Martimeos realized, truly was unusual. These women looked as he had been expecting of a people hunted and cornered. Tired, and worn down, and broken, with sleepless eyes deep-set into pale, worried faces. But as Aela bounded forth to greet them, he saw some of those faces crack weary smiles, and even saw, here or there, a tear or two.

"She tries so hard," Martimeos heard Torc say softly, and he glanced up curiously at the Crosscraw man. Aela's brother was watching her with misty eyes, scratching curiously at the furs that covered the stump where his right arm should be. He shook his head, his green eyes seeming nearly on the verge of tears, and strode forth into the room.

Kells, Elyse and Martimeos followed him, as he approached the small crowd of Crosscraw women that had now gathered around Aela. A few children darted forth as well, small red-haired tykes who tugged at her furs and pleaded for her attention. Aela beamed at them all, reaching down to tousle their hair. An older Crosscraw woman pressed forth, streaks of silver in her red hair and tears in her eyes. "Aela," she cried, "We thought ye dead. Ah had heard ye marked bae th' Bogge-King. Torc tol' us ye hae recovered, but Ah wouldnae believe et till Ah clapped eyes on ye mahself."

A series of murmurs ran through the crowd; the children gazed up at Aela with large, round eyes. She placed her hands on her hips and gave a hearty, carefree laugh in response. "Aye, et's true," she said, giving them a wink, "But ye should ken even th' Bogge-King couldnae keep me down fer long. He ent so tough." She glanced over her shoulder as Kells, Martimeos and Elyse approached, grinned, and then turned back to the crowd. "Although," she continued, wagging her finger, "Ah did hae some help, ye ken. These braw lowlanders here saved mah life, an' more than once."

The crowd's cheerful demeanour became subdued as Torc drew near with Martimeos, Kells and Elyse; the happy grins for Aela's return were replaced with suspicious stares and frowns. "Et es fer these lowlanders...Queensmen...ye kept us waitin tae see ye?" one woman asked, glaring at Aela. "Fer their sake, ye made us worry?"

A pained look flashed across Aela's face, but it was soon replaced with a strange expression that was halfway between apologetic and righteous indignation. "Ah...didnae mean tae make ye worry," she said, fiddling with her hair and looking down to the ground. "But...they saved mah life, an' Ah didnae think we were treatin' them right fer et. Helped me drag a moose back, too. They....they deserved better than they were gettin' from us. So aye, Ah refused tae come up til' they were allowed tae come up wit' me."

"Ye shouldnae hae done et," a small boy said, as he hung on to Aela's furs. Tears streaked down his face he hugged her about the waist. "Ah missed ye."

Aela's smile cracked once more, and this time, when it came back, it seemed forced. "Ah'm sorry, wee one," she murmured, as she hugged the boy back. "Ah thought et had tae be done." Brightening, she straightened. "Well, et's done naow. Chief called tae meet wit' em, an' et will nae do tae make him wait."

The crowd slowly dispersed, many of the women lingering to grasp Aela's hand and tell her to come talk with her later, and many of the children surrounding her had to be pulled away by what Martimeos assumed was their parents. Many of them left with hard stares and mutters for the lowlanders, though Aela admonished them for that. Some of the women, though, trailed curiously behind as they walked on. whispering to each other, wanting to catch a glimpse of thei conversation with the Chief.

Through the chamber they continued, with Aela having rejoined them, past ancient statue and stone pillar, walls too large and far apart to even echo the sound of their bootseps on the stone back at them. As they strode on, Martimeos realized he was wrong. This chamber could have seated many thousands, he was sure of it; he wondered if the Crosscraw, even before the Queen's War and the Bogge-King, could have ever filled it with their number, or if even before their slaughter they had so declined that a chamber like this was simply more than they could ever live up to.

Finally, though, they reached the end of the room, where carved into the stone there was a large dais. Along the steps of this, sitting on fur hides in a semicircle, lounged several grayhaired Crosscraw women, who, while old, were not nearly so withered as Grizel. And in the center of the dais, a large high-backed throne sat, covered in thick bearfurs. And upon the throne sat an old man whose green eyes had gone cloudy. It was clear that he had once been broad-shouldered and strong, but age had diminished him. His hair was neither red nor gray, but an almost shocking white, hanging loosely around his head and coming down past his shoulders; it was complimented by a fantastically long, white beard, braided and decorated with loops of metal, the ends of it pooling in his lap. His wrinkled face was crisscrossed with old scars. Curiously, he did not wear the furs that other Crosscraw wore; instead, he seemed to be clothed in layer upon layer of white silks.

If they were expecting an introduction suited to the grandeur of this place, they were sorely mistaken. As they approached, Torcull merely called out, "Hey Chief. Bought th' lowlanders fer ye," and then leaned back against a stone pillar, closing his eyes, almost as if he intended to take a nap.

Elyse folded her arms across her chest and looked the man on the throne up and down disapprovingly, as if she had decided to hold him solely responsible for the wait they had been through, while Martimeos merely stared, toying idly with his scarf, waiting for the man to speak up. Kells, though, attempted a hasty bow, bending over stiffly at the waist, more used to court manners than either the witch or the wizard were.

The man in white, however, merely laughed at the soldier. "Ah ent nae lowlander King, laddie," he said, in a voice at once both deep and hoarse, as he swept his arm out to gesture at the circle of old, gray-haired Crosscraw women who surrounded him, "Nae matter haow much these auld bints want me tae act as one. Nae bowin' an' scrapin' here." With a groan, he placed his hands on the arms of the throne and stood himself up, shaking slightly as he did so. His cloudy gray eyes looked over Martimeos, Kells and Elyse slowly, drinking in each of them in turn.

"Ye look a bit surprised," he chuckled, as he stepped down from the dais. "Perhaps ye were expectin' th' Chief o' the Crosscraw tae be some braw strong warrior. Well, mayhap nae so long ago, when we hae many chiefs an' many clans, et would hae been true. But dwindled we are, aye, an' all one clan naow, nae matter haow many like tae pretend we ent. An' so Ah was chosen tae be Chief o' All, fer mah wisdom, rather than valor." He grunted as he descended the steps, panting slightly as he stood in front of the three, and then winked. "Jokes on them. White hair an' age dinnae mean wisdom at all, an' that's about all th' wisdom Ah got. Ah'm Maol-Manos, lowlanders. Sorry fer makin' ye wait so long."

"Well," Elyse said, nodding as if this was only right, "At least you have the manners to apologize." This earned her a few sharp glares from the old women sitting around the dais, but the witch only glared back with dark blue eyes flashing.

"Well naow, Ah hope ye realize Ah didnae make ye wait fer nothin'," Maol-Manos said, his silks wisping across the stone as he turned to face her. "Ah dinnae mean tae downplay what ye did fer us. Grizel tol' me o' how ye saved Aela, an' tha' es nae small thing. Tae lose her, an' tae never hear her laughter or see her sweet smile agin, et would hae broken many a heart."

Aela blushed to the roots of her hair, and pulled her mane around her face to hide behind it. "Yer embarassin' me, Chief," she muttered, muffled, through it.

"Nonsense, child," he scoffed, shuffling forward to lay a hand fondly on her shoulder. "Ye help tae keep the fire o' joy en people's hearts, an' that es nae a trifle en these dark days. Turning away from her, he cast his cloudy eyes over the lowlanders, and his expression became serious. "Still. Neither es et a trifle tae allow lowlanders intae this place, ye ken? 'Twas nae a decision taken lightly. Normally Ah would tell mah folk tae never interact at all wit' any lowlander on the mountain. An' so Ah must ask ye a few questions." He sighed, dramatically. "Time tae play th' Chief agin."

He shuffled back towards the dais, and slowly ascended it towards the fur-covered throne once more. "Ah ken a bit about ye, already," he said, as he mounted the steps. "Yer names, though I dinna have th' faces tae put 'em tae. I ken one o' ye es a witch an one a wizard. Ah ken two of ye look like Queensmen, though both claimed never tae have served th' White Queen. Ah ken ye hae saved Aela, and ye claim tae hae saved more of our folk who fled tae Twin Lamps and were pursued by a bogge-man, which ye slew. Braw deeds fer lowlanders. An' yet Ah'm curious." Maol-Manos settled back into the throne with a long sigh, then stared, cloudy eyes suddenly seeming sharp and quick, at the three. "Ef et's true ye saved Maddie, she must hae told ye what et was like en th' mountains. She would hae tol' ye that ye were crtain tae be kilt. An' ye must hae experienced th' terror of th' bogge-men tae have slain one. What was et that drove ye tae th' peaks?"

Martimeos felt a chill run through his bones; the Chief's voice was clipped, harsh, and suspicious. He wondered if Maol-Manos suspected that they had been driven here in part because they had been marked by the bogge-men. He wondered if Grizel had outright told the Chief that this was the case. Steeling himself, he stepped forward, black-furred cloak drifting around him, and schooled his face to stillness and calm. The best lies, he reminded himself, always had a taste of the truth to them. "I," he said, "am Martimeos, and the wizard you have heard of. The man to my right is Kells, my bodyguard, and the witch to my left is Elyse, my traveling companion. It was I who came to the peaks, following the trail of my brother, who came here during the Queen's war."

"He fought against her?" Maol-Manos asked. At Martim's nod, he grumbled thoughtfully. "Et would hae made him our enemy at th' time, though Ah were nae personally fond o' the Queen mahself, an' many of our folk hae since come tae wish they had his judgement. Ah dinnae remember any tales o' incursions, so he must hae found hes way through here bah stealth, an' peacefully."

"Truth told, Chief," Martimeos replied, "Not entirely peacefully. He held Grizel and her familiar hostage for information on the best paths through the mountains, and slew her guard. So I will not lie to you, he has some Crosscraw blood on his hands."

The words hung heavily in the air, as Maol-Manos considered this. The gray-haired Crosscraw women who surrounded the Chief muttered to themselves, their words inaudible. "Ah see," said the Chief, after a while, stroking his long white beard. "Et were war, at th' time. So it cannae be called murder, an' Ah willnae say ye hae blood debt on his behalf. Ah thank ye fer th' honesty. Et still doesnae explain why ye did nae heed th' warnin ye must hae gotten."

Martimeos shrugged. "'Tis true, Maddie told us that it would be foolish to come here. But I am a wizard, and Elyse a witch. What is dangerous for normal folk is not so much a danger for us. And we had already eliminated one bogge-man." He gave the Chief a rueful smile. "Although, I am now of the opinion that perhaps we should have heeded her warnings."

Maol-Manos gave him a hard, long stare, silent long enough for Martimeos to feel uncomfortable. Then the old man chuckled. "So, yer typical wizard arrogance," the Chief said. "Ah suppose yer young enough tae nae have tempered tha' yet. Ef ye manage tae live, perhaps et will be a lesson tae ye." He shifted on his throne, frowning as a long sleeve of his white silk robes snagged on an inch of exposed stone. "Another thing Ah find curious. Ah hear ye escaped from th' Bogge-King hisself." Maol-Manos paused to glare at the Crosscraw grayhairs surrounding him, who broke out into titters and murmurs at this. After they had died down, he continued. "Ah ken of only one other who hae faced down th' Bogge-King an' lived tae tell th' tale. An' truth be tol', Ah thought he were lyin' about et. Even Grizel dares not tae face him, an she's ancient and likely far more learned in th' Art than ye. How did ye manage et?"

Martimeos made a great show of looking thoughtful and puzzled, scratching his chin and running his hand through his shaggy brown hair. "I had wondered that myself. I think what is likely the answer is simply that - whatever the Bogge-King is - he bears a great hatred for Crosscraw, but cares less to slay lowlanders such as ourselves. When we encountered him, he crooned a song - and while it drove your folk mad, it had no effect on us. And while he concentrated on the Crosscraw there, we managed to drag Aela away, and he seemed less interested in pursuing us, especially so close to Dun Cairn. While I think he would have gladly slain us given the opportunity - I myself was driven away from my companions as he pursued me for a while, and I was certain I would die - he gave up the chase sooner than I thought he might. Whatever he is, Chief, I think the fact that he is a curse particular to the Crosscraw saved us."

More mutters, as a response to this, from the grayhaired Crosscraw woman sitting about the dais, but Maol-Manos himself seemed to accept this quickly. "Et makes sense, wit' what Grizel has always said aboot the Bogge-King." the Chief declared, hushing the murmurs, "An' Ah...well, 'tis comforting tae ken he ent all-mighty and inescapable after all. Though et brings me tae mah next question. Aela became marked by th' Bogge-King hisself, en some manner, different from the ways th' bogge-men mark folk. Ah hae tae admit Ah ken little o' this, fer none hae survived the Bogge-King long enough fer us tae see such a mark. An' yet what seems strange tae me - Grizel couldnae cure the mark of a normal bogge-man, but wit' yer help, ye were able tae save Aela from a mark of th' Bogge-King. Ye cannae be so learned in th'Art, ye are young yet. How es et that ye managed this...? Grizel tol' me ye traveled intae dreams? What did ye see?"

Martimeos considered the Chief's tone and mannerisms carefully. Maol-Manos was leaning forward on his throne, eager to hear the answer. The old man, Martim decided, was more curious at this point than suspicious. "I know little of the nature of the Bogge-King's mark, true," he said carefully, "Even now, having helped to cure it. All I can say is that we traveled to Aela's dream, aye, and found her there in a place of flames, and carried her away from it. Perhaps what saved her is that there were three of us with the Art, and she was not marked long enough for her condition to worsen."

"A place of flames," Maol-Manos mused thoughtfully, furrowing bushy white eyebrows in a manner that made his scarred face seem just a bit gruesome. "A vision of the hells?"

"You might call it that," Martimeos replied softly.

Maol-Manos fell silent, leaning back on his throne. From behind him, Martim heard a deep wave of murmurs and whispers, and he glanced back over his shoulder. The crowd of Crosscraw that had followed him, and bore witness to the questioning, had grown. Once only a dozen or so women, it was now well over a hundred, sticking close by the pair of massive pillars that flanked the throne, and not just women, either - he saw the occasional bearded face amongst the crowd as well, looking on, watching with curiousity.

"One last question," Maol-Manos said, and Martim turned back around to face the white-haired Crosscraw chief. "Though this ent fer ye, an Ah'd like yer companions tae answer." Glancing to Elyse and Kells, the Chief considered them a moment. "The both o' ye hae th' look of Queensmen about ye, an yet Ah hear tale that ye didnae serve her. What's yer explanation fer that?"

Elyse was the first to answer. With an exasperated growl, she stamped her foot, and flicked back the brim of her hat so the Chief might receive the full force of her glare, and see her eyes. "Queensman this, Queensman that," she replied, "I hear that I look like a Queensman, but I never even heard much of this Queen before I came to these lands. I came from far south of here, and don't even know if I am blood-tied to these Queensmen. My mother never shared with me her lineage. And besides, from what I understand, I do not have their eyes."

Maol-Manos leaned forward, and squinted hard at Elyse from his throne. With a sigh, the witch moved closer, opening her eyes as wide as she could, until the Chief leaned back, satisfied. "A fiery one, ent ye," he chuckled. "Aye, Ah never saw a Queensman wit' eyes such a strange blue. Et may be ye're nae one at all, though ye certainly have their skin and hair, and the general scrawny look about ye."

"Scrawny," Elyse hissed, but before she could continue, Maol-Manos had already turned to Kells.

"And ye, laddie? Fer ye, ye are a Queensman fer certain."

Kells stood straight backed, in his slim black coat, arms folded behind his back as if he were answering a superior officer, but his gray eyes were calm and his face betrayed no emotion as he answered the Chief. "Personally," he said, "I do not think it much of an appropriate name for me, for she never really had my loyalty. Twin Lamps was my home, and while they were the Queen's lands, I never fought in her war. Too young, at the time, and I would not have cared to do aught but protect my town besides."

Maol-Manos tapped his fingers upon the arm of his throne. "Ef yer town was so important to ye, fer why did ye follow yon witch and wizard tae th' mountains?"

Kells was quiet for a moment. "Your bogge-man, while in Twin Lamps, slew the man who raised me," he answered, his voice clear and betraying no waver of emotion. "Less held me to Twin Lamps, and I...felt I had to get away, after that. Perhaps I thought I might find some more opportunities for revenge, here."

Martimeos found himself admiring the soldier; he omitted the full truth skillfully. Although, he also found himself wondering just how much of Kells' statement was true. After all, the best lies were salted with the truth. Had the man really come here seeking some revenge, and not just to rid himself of the bogge-man's mark?

Maol-Manos seemed satisfied with the answer; he nodded slowly, his long white hair drifting about his head as he did so. "Mah condolences," he said, "The bogge-men are wicked things, an' 'tis a shame Maddie made them a problem fer others."

The Chief fell silent once more, and remained so for a long moment, as if mulling things over; long enough for the crowd of Crosscraw to begin to mutter and murmur to themselves. But finally he lifted his cloudy eyes, and took a deep breath. "Hear me, Crosscraw," he boomed, in a voice louder than Martimeos would have thought the old man capable of. "En light of their deeds, an' findin their answers satisfactory - fer the savin' of Aela, and Maddie too, which Ah believe they tell the truth of - Ah declare these lowlanders honored guests, an' they have th' full rights o' any Crosscraw when it comes tae movin' about Dun Cairn. Ye are tae treat them as one o' our own, at least fer naow." He waved a bony, veined hand, as if suddenly bored with all the formality. "Such es th' decree o' yer Chief, an' all that. Ef ye dinnae like et, go chew rocks."

A babble of voices broke out at the Chief's declaration; Martimeos heard some outraged tones, but fortunately, far more curious ones. Maol-Manos closed his eyes on the throne, as if tired and wanting to sleep. Most of the gray-haired Crosscraw women who surrounded him seemed pleased, or at least tolerant, of the decision, judging by their faces.

The crowd of Crosscraw surged forward, many of them curious about the lowlanders accepted into their presence, and soon Martimeos, Kells and Elyse found themselves surrounded by babbling, red-haired men and women - mostly women - who bombarded them with questions about the Bogge-King, and the Art, and life off the mountain. Questions about Maddie, and her two companions, Inna and Petra, and the names of other Crosscraw women who had fled with them, but failed to survive to Twin Lamps. And Martimeos quickly found that the Crosscraw women had a habit of becoming quite handsy; he felt more than one pinch on his bottom before he snarled that the next who tried that would find out what it meant to earn the wrath of a wizard. Poor Kells, though, seemed to be getting the worse of itl despite being a Queensman, he was surrounded by a gaggle of bright-eyed young Crosscraw woman who did not seem shy about prodding his chest and squeezing his arms, even as the soldier's eyes grew wide in alarm and he held up his hands to ward them off. Martimeos might have worried that the Crosscraw men might have disapproved, but if anything, the few male faces he saw in the crowd seemed relieved that the attention was off of them for once.

There was talk of some sort of feast, or other celebration, to welcome them to Dun Cairn - he got the impression these folk looked for any reason to celebrate if they could - and he could hear Elyse over the crowd, asking the Crosscraw to please tell her where the baths were - when, during a lull in the conversation, in an opportune moment when the attention was off of him, he felt his wrist seized, and quickly found himself being dragged away from the crowd by someone. It was Aela, her smile replaced by a thin, determined line, long red hair streaming out behind her as she led him away from the crowd and around one of the massive stone pillars, into the shadows of the chamber. The stone pillar was large enough that from here, the noise of the crowd was just a dim murmur.

Aela looked at him, bright green eyes flashing, and drew a deep, shaking breath as if steeling herself. "Ye looked a wee bit overwhelmed bah all tha'," was all she said, though. "Mah folk can be a bit pushy at times. Ah thought ye might want tae git away from et."

Martimeos sighed, leaning against the pillar, letting out a long breath as he stared up at the ceiling. Truth be told, it was less the crowd, and more the stress of having hidden the truth from Maol-Manos, that had set him on edge. A lie or omission of truth was not so bad, but to have to do it in front of so many, for such high stakes, had been a bit nerve-wreacking. He dug into his pockets for his pipe, and tobacco pouch. "A bit, perhaps," he replied, as he packed his bowl, "Though I am surprised it's you who dragged me away. You seemed to have been avoiding me, to be blunt with you."

Aela shifted on her feet, running her hands through knotted red hair, not meeting her gaze. "Aye," she murmured, "It's jest....hearin' ye speak tae th' chief, Ah realized....Ah never properly thanked ye. Fer savin' me. Ah thanked Kells and Elyse, but not ye."

Martimeos glanced up sharply, narrowing his shadowed green eyes. "No hugs or kisses, please," he snapped, focusing with the Art to light his pipe. Aela was pretty enough, but that was not the form of thanks he was used to, and he would feel shamed being hugged right now - it had been long and sweaty days since his last bath, he was sure he stank. If she got close, he thought, he'd blow smoke in her face to ward her off.

Aela, though, seemed not to hear him. The Crosscraw woman was an odd sight. Her former smile was completely gone, and grief marked her face; she seemed nearly a different woman from the beaming, lighthearted one that had greeted her folk. "Ah jest, Ah feel badly fer et, Ah do," she mumbled. "Et's jest...ye may think me mad, but whenever Ah look at ye...Ah feel so guilty, over somethin'." She looked up at him, green eyes shimmering, and Martimeos realized she was on the verge of tears. "Did...I dinnae remember th' dream ye saved me from. Did Ah do somethin' terrible tae ye en there....?"

Martim drew long on his pipe, blowing out a thin streamer of smoke, before answering her. "No. Nothing. These feelings are foolish. You did nothing to me."

"Ye say so, but..." Aela clutched at her furs, twisting them in her hands. "Et's...et's so strong, Ah look at ye an Ah feel sick, mah head fills wit' fog, an' mah heart twists up like somethin's squeezin et...ye dinna hae to lie tae me, Ah must hae done somethin. Ah waited fer th' feelin tae pass, but et jest won't go away." She was no longer merely on the verge of tears; now she was actually crying, tears spilling down pale cheeks. "What did Ah do tae ye? Ah beg ye, tell me. Why would Ah feel this sick, this wrong when Ah look at ye?"

"Nothing," Martimeos insisted, "Absolutely nothing. The Bogge-King addled your brains. You were not responsible for it."

"Fer what?" Aela asked, her voice wavering.

Martimeos did not answer her. And suddenly, he found that she rushed forward, embracing him, and sobbed openly into his chest; he had to hold his arms wide to keep his pipe from spilling embers into her thick red hair. "Ah'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled and hoarse, "Thank ye, and Ah'm sorry fer whatever Ah did tae ye, an' Ah'm sorry fer nae thankin' ye properly earlier, an' Ah'm sorry fer makin' a fool o' mahself naow. Ah dinnae ken what's wrong wit' me. Et's so stupid, Ah hae seen so many folk die an held et en fer so long, an' kept a smile on mah face, but when Ah look at ye et es tae much tae bear. Ah'm sorry and Ah dinnae even ken fer why. Ancestors damn me an' fortune curse me, Martim, Ah'm so sorry..."

Martim felt incredibly awkward for a moment as she sobbed into his chest, but eventually he softened, and resisted the urge to push her off him. Instead, he gingerly embraced her back, and patted her hair, which only seemed to cause her to sob even harder. She could not be blamed for this, he thought. She was broken. And what else could be expected? All the Crosscraw were. You simply did not see as much death as they had without being broken in some way.

As much death as you'd seen? a small voice in his mind mocked him.

Martim shook his head. It was not just the death, after all. On top of that, Hadley...the Bogge-King...had clawed black scars into her mind. It was...understandable, that she might break down from time to time.

So he did not scorn Aela, or shun her, as she wept. For there was a small part of him that wondered whether he should feel the same guilt towards her that she felt towards him.