As Kaczmarek had predicted, by the time the sun’s last light slipped from the clouds we were riding slowly up the roots of the mountains, the horses sometimes picking their way between loose rocks. The sun had fled from sight long ago, the long shadows of the peaks reaching out like grabbing claws to pull us into the dark, but full night still only set in at the usual hour.

The days had passed quietly. Despite my fears of pursuit, none had materialised. I didn’t know why, or how, but I could only thank the Heavens for it; we were hardly in a position to fight again. Simply riding was a numbing agony of its own. I was immensely relieved to slide out of the saddle as Kaczmarek slowed to a halt in the lee of a massive outcropping, its blocky weathering pattern making it look like a fragment of castle wall leaning askew after a blast from some divine petard. Our weather luck had held on the plains, with no further rains to soak and freeze us, but the mists cloaking the mountains loomed nearer here, constantly threatening rain.

After we set camp, risking a small fire dug into a deep pit beneath the turf, Alemayehu surprised me by speaking up suddenly, unapproached. Despite his boldness in approaching us at the Hauler’s Rest in Tolkirch, he had rarely said anything unless spoken to on the journey. Of course, His Highness’s incessant questions might have an outsider believe he was a chatterbox; I was grateful for his presence if only so that I did not have to muster the enthusiasm for those myself.

“If I can, there is something I could perhaps say.” He began, glancing between us as though for approval.

“Of course, magus. Please, go ahead.” His Highness leaned forward eagerly, flickers of light from tongues of flame escaping their pit playing across his face.

“Eh, thank you.” Alemayehu leaned forward as well, propping his elbows on his knees and interlacing his fingers. The way the firelight danced on his face looked altogether more sinister, one moment lighting his whole face and the next plunging his eyes into darkness with shadows that looked like they could have been drawn with a ruler. He gathered his thoughts for a moment before continuing.

“This is, eh, a conjecture based on the magical theory, so I cannot be for sure that it is right,” he began, in his slightly halting fashion. “And what I am basing it on, it I have not seen for myself. But what I am thinking is that, eh, your Highness told me that you saw a wyvern out of its territory near the capital, no?”

I nodded, but he was already moving on.

“And on the way to Tolkirch from the Kurnich, you, eh, met a bear?”

“That’s not exactly unusual, but sure,” Kaczmarek pointed out. The jäger was sitting propped against the rock, staring down the slope across the near-dark plain. The magus waved a hand, starting to gesture as he spoke.

“No, you are right, but let me explain. There is a, a, theory among the scholars of the Tarimate Court, about the… grand magics, let us call them. The great workings and deeds, of many scholars or priests or magi, together. The first thing to know about it is the theory that there are many worlds. Or, ah, some people say there are only three worlds, and some people say there are only two and are they actually the same, but that is not important.

“One of these worlds is our world, the world.” He gestured broadly at our surroundings in the gathering dark, the horizon stretching out in the distance as the early stars began to glow above it. “The other world, eh, the one we are interested in, has a lot of names but I think what we call it would be the World Unformed in your language, no?”

I nodded again. “That’s what the Temple calls it. Though as you say, it has many names.”

“Eh, thank you. So there are these two worlds, and between them is a… a wall.” He held his hands apart and made as though to clap a few times, but stopping just short, hands freezing a centimetre apart. “Eh, it is not properly a wall, but… no matter. When the worlds are close, sometimes something can slip through.” He bent his fingers a little and touched his hands together, fingertip to fingertip.

“Some scholars say the worlds were once the same world—” He interlaced his fingers for a moment. “—but that here is not important. It is the worlds’ nature to slide apart, to stay away from each other. This world, the World Made, it is not… aligned with the World Unformed, no? Here are rules for how this and that should be, but there are not such rules. The two cannot be mixed, you can say.

“But my brothers and sisters at the Tarimate Court think that when a great work is undertaken, the wall, or the distance, it gets smaller.” He moved his hands close together, holding them only a millimetre apart. “Eh, the World Made gets a bit more like the World Unformed, the rules for how this and that should be get less strong, and more things jump across from there to here.” He crooked his fingers the barest bit, and his fingertips touched.

“I have not had the time to discuss with my brothers and sisters, but what do you call transporting an army hundreds of kilometres through another world if not a great magic? And if the wall gets weaker from great magic, then it surely gets a lot weaker from a great magic that pierces the wall, no?”

The magus fell silent, folding his hands again. The crackling of the fire and the singing of a nearby cricket grew loud as I tried to make sure I understood what he’d said, and to think through the implications. I didn’t normally struggle overmuch to understand his accent and his grammatical foibles, but the longer speech and the details were more taxing on my abilities.

To my slight surprise, Kaczmarek broke the silence first. “So you’re saying the wyvern was acting strange because of the magic the Torries did?”

“Correct.”

“And the bear?”

“I am not sure where the bear fits,” the magus conceded, “But I think it is unusual. There are many stories of bears, no? And stories are often from the World Unformed.”

“I suppose.” Kaczmarek scratched her head. I wasn’t convinced of the bear either, but I could see how it might fit in. It certainly explained the wyvern better than anything else I could think of.

“Why bring this up now, magus?” The prince asked. “We’re well past that area, and in fact we’re well away from anywhere the Torreans used magic, as far as I am aware.”

“Eh, strange things live in the ravines, your Highness. I am afraid they will be more strange tomorrow than usual. Maybe if there was before a small chance you would see kobolds, now a larger chance. But I cannot be for sure.”

I sighed and dropped my face into my hands, or at least into the hand that wasn’t still hanging from a sling. “So, magus, you’re saying that because the Torreans committed some godless atrocity of magic to drive us out, we’re also going to have a harder time leaving?”

“Correct.”

“Heavens’ sake,” I muttered into my hand. Kaczmarek contributed a few riper expressions under her breath as well. I straightened my back. “Is there any good news to go with that? Or is it just that a kobold raiding band might take a wrong turn into our world?”

“Only a bit,” he said, but my frown eased a little. At least there was some good. “Most likely, eh, your own magics will a bit stronger be, a bit easy.”

“But magus, you said you can’t do any magic like that,” His Highness pointed out.

“No, no, I have only a little.” Alemayehu shook his head and waved his hands disarmingly. “But the gefreiter and the jäger will do well.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Begging your pardon, sir? I fear I’m about as magical as this rock, though I can’t properly speak for the jäger. The only schooling I’ve had is in the military arts and the Scriptures.”

“No, no,” the magus repeated. “How do you think you can keep riding with your injuries? How do you think the jäger can, eh, shoot impossibly?”

“For the first, grit and determination, sir,” I said firmly. “Nothing magical about it, I’m afraid. Mourners are just tougher than the man on the street, it’s what we do, magus.” I should dearly love some magical healing, I thought to myself. Sitting and talking was of course much more pleasant than riding, but the injuries still made their presence felt.

For her part, Kaczmarek just shrugged. “My uncle’s a genius, you know? The arquebus is a masterpiece and I’m a good shot. Never even seen the inside of an academy, wouldn’t know a Temple-y behaviour if the Heavens dropped it in my face.”

“Jäger!” I scolded reflexively, cutting off the prince just as he was about to speak. “I’m terribly sorry, sir, I spoke out of turn,” I apologised.

“Don’t trouble yourself.” He waved it off as usual, but I still felt a little bad. “And don’t ignore the magus. You yourselves admit you know nothing about magic; surely Magus Alemayehu can be trusted on this?”

I was still sceptical, but I bit it back, telling myself to have a little faith. “You’re right, of course, your Highness,” I said, running my hand over my hair. “Magus, is there something we should actually do about this? What does it change?”

“That I do not know,” he admitted, shrugging. “Maybe is there something, but I think probably it will happen by itself, if it happens. I will be… eh, watching the barrier, you can say. I will say if I see anything unusual.”

“Thank you, magus,” His Highness said. “We truly appreciate your contribution.”

Above us, the sky had darkened to full night while we talked, streaks of cloud drawing dark lines along a canvas spattered with white stars. With all the talk of other worlds and barriers, those stars suddenly felt a lot closer, as though the Heavens were hanging directly above our heads, resting on the rock like a titanic pillar.

I hoped Alemayehu’s wall was more solid than those trails of cloud. Nebulous assurances of increased strength or such like were cold comfort against the promise of a kobold’s club or a monster’s claw.