The walls of Panja reared up in the distance as our wagon trundled north along the highway. The hard, square, stone blocks of the road gave a much smoother ride than the rutted dirt paths of the Darkwood, and Renica allowed the pair of cerbaks to bound a little more freely. A steady breeze rushed past my face, blowing my hair back and bringing a faintly marshy scent to my nostrils.

We’d exited the Darkwood the day before just before moonrise, exiting into a low-lying area with muddy ground and reedy grass. The road rose higher than the surrounding land and gleamed pale brown in the murky twilight. We camped as close to the road as we dared, on firmer and less marshy ground, and I spent an uncomfortable night trying to ignore the dampness seeping through my tent when it wasn’t my turn to keep watch.

The sun rose gloriously the next morning, revealing the landscape in far greater detail. The Darkwood stood behind us, a dark green wall running northeast to southwest, with the road following along a mile or so from its border. A high range of hills almost tall enough to be mountains rose to the west, covered with long, brown grass and scrub bushes along their lower slopes and topped with bare, brown rock. To the northwest, a line of mountains clawed at the sky, looking vaguely gray at this distance.

The road itself proved to be huge blocks of light brown stone fitted fairly tightly together. Once the sun rose and we ate a poorly made breakfast – it seemed that none of us had much talent at cooking – we set off along the road and made decent time along it. The highway wasn’t exactly busy, but it wasn’t empty, either, and we passed a half-dozen wagons heading south along it. To my surprise, none of the wagons seemed to carry darkwood logs, despite the forest’s proximity.

“Panja sits on the Sparkling River, which runs down to the Depthless Sea,” Renica explained when I mentioned this. “It’s the main trading port between Vutana and the kingdoms of Pieta and Isafured. Goods from the Darkwood forest villages tend to move from Topolja in the south toward Panja, and imported goods tend to go the opposite direction.”

We also saw occasional patrols marching along the highway, squads of chain-armored soldiers mostly carrying halberds or pikes. None so much as glanced at us, which I supposed was a good thing, but each encounter aggravated Renica a bit more.

“Why are they even here?” she grumbled after a patrol passed well out of earshot. As it turned out, the hunter had never left the Darkwood in her entire life, and everything here was as new to her as it was to me. She wasn’t dealing with the strangeness all that well, though. The open spaces seemed to disturb her, and that set her constantly on edge.

“The Sunstone Hills are riddled with abandoned mines,” Viora explained, pointing to the hills to our east. “There’s more than one group of bandits holed up there, and they occasionally prey on merchants along the highway. The patrols keep that to a minimum, at least.”

“Why don’t the patrols just go into the hills and root the bandits out?” Renica asked curiously.

“It probably isn’t that easy,” I shook my head. “If the bandits see soldiers marching their way – and they probably will – they’ll either disappear into the deepest parts of the mines and have to be dug out or scatter and have to be chased down. Either of those would probably cost more in money and lives than allowing a few caravans to get taken.”

“That’s quite likely,” Viora agreed. “Although the crown has mounted expeditions against the bandits in the past, Renica. I suppose the army could occupy the Sunstone Hills and set up garrisons there, but they’ve never chosen to do that for some reason – probably the one Ionat suggested.”

We rolled along over a bridge that crossed the Sparkling River. The river’s waters flowed brown and murky, contrary to its name, and roiled sluggishly along past the city. Wharves and piers jutted out from the city east of the bridge, extending into the river, with sailing vessels of various sizes tied up at them. People moved along those wharves like ants, walking or riding in wagons and carriages up stone roads through a large, open gate in the walls.

The walls themselves stood thirty feet high, gray stone streaked with lines of brown and red along them. No figures walked the walls or manned the spiderlike siege engines placed atop them; no one stood in the domed guard towers. The walls looked entirely ornamental, but I assumed they existed because of the close moons. No hungering or undying were likely to pass that barrier, and I guessed that during the recent silver moon, soldiers teemed along the walls after moonrise.

A guard stopped us as we passed through the gate. “Declare your point of origin and cargo,” the man said in a bored voice.

“Our wagon’s empty,” Renica replied in a puzzled voice, looking back at the obviously barren wagon bed.

“Three passengers and three animals coming from Nadmeva,” Viora spoke up, reaching into her dress and removing a few copper-colored coins. “I believe the fee is a copper each, yes?”

“That’s correct,” the guard spoke, holding out a bag and letting the woman place the coins inside. He turned to look at a woman sitting before a low table off to the side. “Three passengers, three animals, origin Nadmeva, tariff paid.”

“Noted,” the woman said without looking up, her pen scratching in a book that stood open before her.

“Welcome to Panja,” the guard spoke simply, stepping aside and allowing us to pass. Renica flicked the reins, and the pair of large, deerlike cerbaks walked forward, pulling the wagon into the city.

Panja reminded me of some of the old, medieval towns I’d seen in eastern Europe on Earth. Narrow, cobbled roads snaked out from an open square filled with food vendors. The city descended to the east and rose in terraces to the west. The houses pressed tightly together, sharing walls between them, with sharply sloped roofs no doubt designed to shed rain and snow. By the standards of a modern Earth city, Panja felt sparsely populated, with only a hundred or people milling about the square, but after the week and more of living in the forest, the city felt bustling and alive in a way I realized I’d missed. Not that I didn’t enjoy the quiet, but the noise and confusion of a city – the sheer anonymity of being around thousands or millions of people who didn’t care about you in the slightest – filled a need in me I’d almost forgotten I had.

Renica didn’t seem to agree with me, though. She stared about at the people with an expression close to panic, pulling her arms and knees closer to her body. She started at every noise, and I observed the wisp of brownish energy swirling from her to Vikarik. The cairnik rose from laying in the wagon bed into a sitting position, her head low, a guttural growl rumbling from her mouth, and I realized that if we didn’t calm Renica down, things might go south quickly.

“So, this is a little different, huh?” I asked her calmly, looking everywhere but at the woman.

“Different?” she repeated, her voice slightly higher than normal. “That’s putting it mildly, Ionat. How do all these people live like this?”

I pointed to one of the buildings nearby. “See that? That’s called a house. They mostly stay in those, I understand.”

She snorted. “You know what I mean. Everyone is so close together. How do they even think with all this noise?”

“They’d probably ask the same thing about the Darkwood,” I chuckled. “Except they’d be wondering about all the quiet.” I looked around at the admittedly sparse group of people. “There’s a certain anonymity and freedom to cities, Renica. These people, here, don’t feel pressed in. They feel totally alone, even with all these people around.”

“What?” she asked, looking over at me incredulously. “How?”

“When I entered your former village,” I said, deliberately not saying the name and giving her a meaningful look that I hope she understood, “how long did it take for everyone to know who I was?”

Renica shrugged. “An hour or two, I suppose.”

“Exactly. I had no privacy in that place. Everyone knew everything I did almost as soon as I did it, and everyone heard everything that I said and reported it to everyone else. I had to be careful what I did and said to make sure I didn’t offend or upset anyone.”

I swept a hand around the square. “Not here. Here, so long as you keep to yourself, no one knows you or wants to. No one cares who you are, where you came from, or what you do, as long as it doesn’t affect them directly.”

She looked around, frowning. “Why don’t they care?” she asked.

“There are too many people here to bother. If they stopped to worry about everyone around them, they’d never get anything done. It’s easier and simpler to assume everyone is handling their own problems and focus on your own.” I looked back at Vikarik. “Like, say, a cairnik that looks like it’s going to leap out of a wagon and attack them. That’ll certainly get their attention.”

Renica looked startled for a moment before her face took on a sheepish expression. “Sorry,” she muttered. She looked back at Vikarik and held out a hand toward the dog. “It’s okay, girl. I’m just nervous. We’re not in danger, I promise.” I saw another strand of energy pass between the pair, and the cairnik settled back into the bed of the wagon.

I looked over at Viora. “How well do you know this city?” I asked her quietly.

“I’ve been here many times,” she replied with a smile.

“That’s great. Where’s a good place for us to stay?”

Her smile faltered instantly. “I – I usually stay in the Cathedral,” she admitted. “Obviously, I can’t do that, now…”

“Why not?” I asked evenly.

“Because the…” She looked around. “Because my status…”

“Do you really think anyone here knows about that?” I asked quietly, giving her a very direct look. “Do you think the people who sent him passed that message along to the Cathedral, here?”

“No, probably not, but…” She sighed. “It seems wrong, Ionat.”

I nodded. “Then maybe, instead, you can ask there about a reliable place for us to stay,” I suggested. “Somewhere we won’t be robbed or drugged.”

Renica looked at me, her face alarmed. “Does that happen, Ionat?”

“Yes, child,” Viora sighed. “It does happen, which is why Sorvaraji always stay in a city’s Cathedral.” She grimaced. “It would be safer, to be sure.” She pointed ahead. “Keep driving straight ahead. It’s not too far.”

I didn’t know what I’d been expecting from the Cathedral, to be honest. I suppose I thought it would look like a cathedral from Earth, all baroque architecture and soaring steeples. The actual building stood at the higher end of the city and reared above the nearby buildings, standing at least forty feet tall. The building gleamed golden in the sunlight and resembled an old Greek temple more than anything, all columns and pillars fronting a wide portico and a large doorway shaped like a pointed arch. Wide, equally arched windows ran along the front and sides, glass shining in each, and the roof bulged upward in a glass dome that looked like a bubble ready to pop.

“This is the Cathedral at Panja,” Viora said softly as they pulled the wagon up to a row of posts sticking up from the ground in front of the building. Dozens more wagons and carriages waited their already, their animals tied securely to posts. “This building is the center of the worship of the Sun for this city, the Darkwood villages to the south, and the fishing villages to the east.”

She looked at us both. “I’ll present the two of you as my acolytes,” she said. “The Sorvaraji inside will offer you the Moon’s Truce but not the Sun’s Peace. Don’t be offended; only those who are ordained beneath the Sun are offered its peace within a Cathedral.”

That wasn’t an issue for me; I wouldn’t have accepted the Sun’s Peace, anyway. I remembered how it affected my thoughts and my judgment, and I wasn’t about to allow that to happen to me again – especially not when anyone in the Cathedral might be working against us. In fact I didn’t even think I could accept the Moon’s Truce, the agreement not to attack anyone else in the place, since I had to suspect that at least one person in the Cathedral was working with or for the Vanatori.

At least, that’s what I would have done in their position. If I were as powerful and influential as the Vanatori, I wouldn’t be trusting the church to support me. I’d have people in every Cathedral spying on the raji, listening to the congregations, making sure that nothing they did went against my interests. I’d have a network set up to pass messages quickly to people who could make decisions, and I’d make sure that nothing went past the Pretmaraji’s desk that I didn’t know about. Intel won as many wars as firepower, and I couldn’t assume the Vanatori were too stupid to realize that.

“There might be a solution to that,” Sara said slowly in my thoughts.

“What, to the fact that someone’s probably spying on us?”

“Well, you could look into that. It would be good XP for your Investigator profession, after all. I’m talking about the Moon’s Truce. There might be a way to avoid being locked into it.”

“It can’t be easy to get around,” I pointed out. “If it was, then it would be essentially pointless.”

“But it also can’t be impossible. If it were, then people like that Lomoraji you killed wouldn’t be able to hurt other omeni, would they?”

That was a fair point. Plus, if the Moon’s Truce was totally infallible, then there wouldn’t be robbers, bandits, or innkeepers who drugged your wine. Only an idiot wouldn’t offer a bartender the Moon’s Truce the moment they entered a tavern, after all. There had to be a way around it, and it couldn’t be complex; if it was, then regular people wouldn’t be able to use it.

“Exactly. Watch carefully with your magical senses when Viora accepts the truce. I’ll bet there’s a flaw in the spell somewhere.”

Renica tied the cerbaks up, and the two of us followed Viora up the wide, golden steps leading to the main door of the Cathedral. “The Cathedral itself is a sacred place, meant for study, reflection, and devotion,” the Sorvaraji instructed us as we climbed. “Speak quietly within its walls, and keep frivolity to a minimum. When you speak to a Sorvaraji, do so respectfully.” She looked directly at me as she said that, and I nodded. I wasn’t feeling particularly jocular as it was, really.

“The Pretmaraji in charge of this Cathedral isn’t given to humor – or forgiveness. He truly believes that the Cathedral and its servants are all that prevent the mooncursed from overrunning this entire region, and he takes his duties very, very seriously. If possible, the wisest course for both of you is to say nothing unless you’re asked a direct question, and then say as little as possible.”

A steady stream of people passed in and out of the open doors to the Cathedral. They seemed to represent all walks and stations of life; obvious laborers in rough homespun walked beside richly dressed people I assumed were merchants or nobles. An old woman in rags hobbled out of the Cathedral, clutching a small pouch fiercely, while two young men probably no older than fifteen or sixteen followed behind her, their clothing nice but not particularly fancy. That was probably a good thing. As I recalled, nobody would accuse the Medieval and Renaissance churches back on Earth of being too egalitarian. Of course, the Catholic Church hadn’t had to protect people from actual demons and monsters, the way the Sorvaraji did here, and that might make a significant difference.

We entered a large, open space with a high, vaulted glass ceiling that took the afternoon light and drenched the floor below with it. Tapestries hung from the walls, most depicting phrases like, “Beneath the Sun’s face, all are welcome” or, “Reject the moons and embrace the Sun”. I assumed those were from some holy book or another, one I hadn’t yet seen and had no interest in reading. Other tapestries displayed what were obviously religious rites: a robed man reaching his hands to the sun while a crowd of people knelt at his feet in one; a woman glowing with orange light facing a group of short, emaciated creatures with blood-red eyes in another. People moved about the space freely or stood around in knots, talking very quietly, filling the air with a low hum of noise.

Viora wove deftly through the crowd, most of the people parting swiftly at the sight of her robe, and Renica and I tagged along behind her. She walked to a set of double doors that dominated one wall and opened one a crack to peer inside, then let it swing shut and kept walking. She didn’t say a word, and remembering her instructions, I didn’t ask what was going on. I didn’t really need to; obviously, whoever she looked for wasn’t behind those doors.

We entered a quieter, less crowded hallway and walked down to another door. Viora peeked through that one, as well, then led us farther down the hallway, up a flight of stairs, and along a hallway with simple, wooden doors set on one wall. Stained glass windows decorated the other wall, and peering through one, I saw a large, open nave filled with rows of pews, all empty. The doors Viora first peeked through stood at one end; a huge version of the Altar of the sun in Borava rested at the other, one carved to look like a sunburst and glowing even through the darkened glass.

Viora stopped and knocked at one of the doors, and a moment later, a man opened it, his face curious. He wore a robe similar to Viora’s but more elaborate, with wide gold trim running down the center and along the sleeves, golden sunbursts on each shoulder, and fancy scrollwork running down the breast. He blinked his dark brown eyes owlishly and reached up almost unconsciously to smooth his ginger hair.

“Vi-Sorvaraji?” the man said questioningly. “What are you – how did you?” He seemed flustered, and he stopped to shake his head. “Sorry, I’m forgetting my manners. Moon’s Truce, Sorvaraji.”

“Moon’s Truce, Razvaraji,” she replied. I watched closely as the pair spoke the words. Energy swirled between them, mostly orange but with undertones of dark red and deep brown. The power moved back and forth between the pair in a complex pattern, dancing between the pair and wrapping around their heads and hearts. The spell seemed to link to a misty weave hanging in the air that I hadn’t even noticed, connecting Viora to that waiting construct. “May we enter?”

“Of course,” the man spoke, stepping back and allowing the woman to walk inside, with Renica and I in tow. I hung back, and I was glad I did, as the man looked at Renica. “Moon’s Truce.”

“Moon’s Truce,” she replied instantly, probably without even thinking about it. Once again, I watched as the complex web of solar and lunar magics wove around the pair, binding them to do one another no harm and keeping Renica from hurting anyone within the Cathedral, I assumed.

“There’s no death raju in it,” Sara noted excitedly. “That has to be the key, somehow. Death magic must be able to unlock or prevent it from working, John!”

I walked forward, my mind racing as I did. Knowing that death magic was the key didn’t help much, since I wasn’t a hundred percent sure how to use my death raju on its own. So far, I’d used it instinctively, just imagining what I wanted to happen and letting my subconscious mind do all the work.

“Then, why not do that again?” Sara asked. “Just keep what you want to happen firmly in your thoughts, and trust your instincts to guide you.”

That felt like terrible advice, to be honest. We humans are filled with all sorts of instincts that don’t really serve us well in the long run. The fight-or-flight response is a great example: flight is almost never the best response since most things that can hurt you are more likely to do so if you’re running away from them, but most people suck at fighting, as well. Often, staying calm and still is the best response, but that’s the opposite of our instinct.

At the same time, Sara hadn’t steered me wrong yet. As I walked up to the man, I pictured what I wanted very clearly. I saw the tendrils of his spell wrapping around me but failing to gain a foothold, withering and dying before they entangled me. I imagined the link trying to form between me and the weave filling the Cathedral snapping and dissipating, the energy returning back to its source without touching me.

“Moon’s Truce,” the man said to me, and I felt the power of the spell wrap around me, waiting for my acceptance.

I braced myself, mentally crossing my fingers but carefully keeping my anxiety off my face. “Moon’s Truce,” I nodded back to him.

Instantly, the power of the spell descended on me with the force of an avalanche, but I kept the image I wanted firmly in my mind. The spell enfolded me, gripping me tightly, but even as it did, I felt the instability in it. Whoever crafted this spell balanced it well – almost perfectly, really – but I sensed a tiny hole in it. The hole loomed so obviously that it almost felt purposeful, as if the spell’s creator wanted to leave a way out of it, one that wouldn’t take much power or skill.

Icy energy wrapped around my body, and as the spell touched it, the tendrils of raju withered and died. The link that stretched from the surrounding weave toward me dissipated, shredding into tendrils of energy that rejoined the web surrounding me. Even so, I felt a few tendrils of the spell grip me, clinging to me. I hadn’t been able to completely avoid the Truce, but I thought that if I really wanted, I could push through it.

“Or unbind it,” Sara added. “Come moonrise, you can probably brush off the last vestiges of the spell if you want.”

The Razvaraji didn’t seem to notice the Truce’s failure to envelop me; he stood back and let me enter the room, then shut the door behind us. I found myself standing in a relatively small room, maybe fifteen by fifteen feet. A simple bed lay against one wall, and a plain wooden desk rested against another. A metal bowl filled with water stood atop a stone pedestal with a shallow basin set into its top, the hole at the bottom suggesting it might be a sink of some kind. A large window dominated the last wall, and a small altar sat on the floor before the window, atop a thick but plain rug.

“Please, be seated, Sorvaraji,” the man spoke, indicating his bed, and Viora smiled at him as she sat down.

“Thank you, Razvaraji,” she replied. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” he agreed as he pulled out the wooden chair from beneath his desk and sat facing her. “Ten years or so, I think.”

“Eleven. I came here for your elevation to High Raji, remember?”

“Of course, how could I forget?” he laughed. “That was a good night. I was so nervous, and you dragged me out to a tavern for some wine to calm my nerves. We ended up joining the minstrel, singing bawdy tavern songs.”

I looked at the older woman, expecting to see embarrassment or shock on her face, but she wore an easy smile. “You were singing,” she corrected. “I knew that my voice would clear the tavern, so I just moved my lips and danced.”

“Ha! I didn’t know that,” he laughed, then sighed, staring off into the distance. “Good times.”

“They were, Iulien,” Viora agreed.

“And now you’ve returned,” he said, seeming to bring himself back to the present. “And you’ve brought guests, I see.”

“Yes, these are my acolytes, Renica and Ionat. Ionat’s been training with me for some time, while Renica just started.”

“Welcome to you both,” the man nodded, then looked over at Viora, his eyes curious. “So, what brings you here, Viora? I can’t think of anything that would stir you from your duties in Borava. Last time you were here, you fretted constantly over leaving them, as I recall. What could possibly have dragged you away from your charges?”

The woman blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. “Borava…,” she began, then cut off. “Borava – is no more, Iulien.”

“What?” he gasped, half-rising from his chair. “What do you mean, no more?”

“It was destroyed,” she said tiredly, and I saw tears running down her cheeks as she spoke the words. “The last I saw of it, Borava burned. The hungering overran it, and now – it is gone.”

“No!” he said, his face white. “The hungering – I can’t even imagine.” He sat back down. “I’m so sorry, Viora. How did you escape?”

“Ionat and Renica,” she smiled, wiping her eyes. “Renica is – was – the village’s hunter, and she has a tamed cairnik. And Ionat – Ionat seems to follow your path more than mine, Iulien.”

“Indeed?” he asked, gazing at me with sudden interest. “Perhaps we should speak later, then, Ionat.” I simply inclined my head and said nothing, heeding the Sorvaraji’s earlier instruction. That hadn’t been a question, after all, just a statement of his opinion. If he wanted an answer, I assumed he’d ask more directly.

It seemed that my vague reply satisfied him, though, and he turned back to Viora. “Why didn’t you stay in Nadmeva, then? Why come all the way to Panja?”

“Two reasons,” she smiled. “First, I wanted to make sure you heard about Borava. The next close moon, the Darkwood may become far more dangerous than usual, and since I lost most of my books in the fire, I don’t know when that might be, precisely, just that it’s sooner than I’d expect.”

“Three weeks,” he said immediately. “Sangue this time, and it will hold for five days. After that, only two weeks before Fiare descends for three days. We’re on our way to a conjunction, it seems.”

“So it seems,” she agreed. “That makes my warning even more important, though. If there’s a conjunction, with all that blood spilled in the Darkwood…”

His face went pale once more. “An uprising,” he whispered.

“Mooncursed of all sorts, rising from the cursed ground that once was Borava and seeking the Darkwood Heart,” she agreed solemnly. “If they reach it, something truly powerful could arise, an enraged or a darklord. Could you imagine a darklord rising in the Darkwood Heart?”

The man shuddered. “We’ll have to organize a cleansing expedition,” he said. “I’ll send word to the Great Cathedral…”

“That’s the other reason I’m here,” she cut him off. “I’m planning to travel there myself and ask for assistance. Can you help me arrange transportation?”

“Of course,” he nodded. “I’ll put out the word. I’m sure there’s a reputable captain leaving in the next few days for Mihabag who won’t mind passengers. Can you afford the passage?”

“Unless the rates have gone up ridiculously in the past decade,” she smiled.

“If not, let me know, and I’ll see if the Pretmaraji will open the coffers to help out. While you wait, of course, you and your acolytes may remain in the Cathedral.”

“My thanks, Iulien,” the woman sighed, reaching out and taking his hands in hers. “You’ve always been a good friend.”

“And I always will be,” he smiled at her, then his face grew serious. “Viora – I’m so sorry for what you went through. I can’t even imagine it. If you need to talk – or to go back to that tavern and have a few drinks – I’m always here for you.”

“I might take you up on the drinks,” she smiled, squeezing his hand. “We can drink to the memory of Borava, if nothing else.”

“I’d be honored.” He let go of her hands and rose to his feet, and she did the same. “In the meantime, I’ll escort you to the guest rooms.” He hesitated, then looked and Renica and me. “Viora can have her own room, of course, but by custom, acolytes share rooms. I can put you with others of the same gender if it makes you more comfortable…”

“Thank you, Razvaraji, but that isn’t necessary,” Renica bowed to the man. “Ionat and I have spent many nights together hunting or traveling. Another won’t matter.”

“As you prefer.”

“We came in a wagon,” Viora added. “Could we stable the cerbaks with the Cathedral’s?”

“Of course. Show me which wagon, and I’ll have attendants see to it.”

After we gathered our belongings, Iulien led us to the third floor and showed Viora to a room about the same size and layout as his, then took Renica and I down to the first floor at the very back of the building. “These are the acolyte’s quarters,” he said, indicating a long hallway with doors on either side. “You can rest here, but please don’t enter another acolyte’s room without permission.”

I couldn’t think of any reason I would go into an acolyte’s room, but I just nodded without speaking.

He opened a door, revealing a room somewhat smaller than his, with two beds set high off the floor and a simple desk beneath each. “Enjoy your rest,” he said and walked away, leaving the two of us alone in the bedroom.