There was a rattling noise of wheels turning, his body softly bouncing up and down. Mat opened his eyes to see himself laying in a wooden cart, next to three big barrels that smelled of strong ale. He lifted his head up to see an older man sitting upfront, singing some strange tune and waiving a whip high in the air, cracking it above the giant ox’s head, a huge beast pulling on the cart. He felt great, better than he did in the longest time. "Miracle of what that nano-h-cell booster could do," he muttered to himself, remembering Helen’s little gift. He was going to ask for his health status, but then remembered all the mind fog, all the dizziness and pain, and confusion, and how he had shut down his Pia. That was so weird, he thought, remembering what had happened. My mind is so clear now, so let it stay shut for a while now. “What gives?” Mat finally asked in a loud voice, looking around at the plains they were traveling through. Raising hills of the forest-covered mountains were on their far left. Dark outlines of the trees losing their leaves circled them on the far right horizon with a paved road snaking through the tall grass ahead. “Oh, stranger, you finally woke up,” answered the old man as he turned around. “For a while, you had me worried. I wondered if you ever would.” I' wondered if you ever would,' he sang words to a tune Mat could not recognize. 'If you only could...' “What happened?” Mat asked. “A little I do know. A little, too little. Barrels of Big Joe’s Best Ale I took to the Monastery. But instead of priests, black vaulters and craws met me. And dead elves. Hundreds of them.” “That I do remember.” “Dead elves… a nasty business.” “I know.” “I looked to see if any could be saved. But… Yours was the only body not burned. And when I turned you over, I realize your chest was moving, you were breathing. I tried to find a wound on your body to heal, a good healer a long time ago I was…But… you seem not to have any… serious ones at least. So, I dragged you and put you in a cart. Could have left you for buzzards to eat you alive, but, I guessed you would have preferred my cart instead.” “You guessed right, old man,” Mat said and stretched his muscles. Then he remembered he should be hurt. “Thank you, Helen, I do owe you one,” Mat muttered to himself, feeling his shoulder and his abdominal wound, all sensitive but completely pain-free. “How long was I out?” “I picked you up this morning, and now it’s past high noon. And I frankly how long you’ve been playing dead, I have no idea.” “Sadly, neither do I… remember.” Mat clearly remembered his mission, remembered that he only had a limited amount of days before he could find what was happening on Zarnia. If he can’t find solutions, he won’t be able to go back to his ship… Where the fuck is my ship?? He remembered flying a few rounds around the planet, descending… No, was that not descending the last one he did two years ago on Reximun Minor? He was not sure. Not sure of anything till he woke up among Paleskins. That all was still a black hole. And what the hell was I doing with the Paleskins? And that explosion, what was that about? Puzzles to solve. But how? Nano-h-cells could restore damaged tissue, fight infection. Could it help him with the memory too? He did not know. What he did know was that he needed to find the High Priest. He’d have answers. How many days was I out? And how many more days do I have till they toast this planet up and blow it all to smithereens? “Funny thing those memories are. Sometimes can play a trick or two on a fella,” the old trader said and then burped. “You drunk?” Mat suddenly asked him. “It would be a funny thing if I wasn’t,” the old trader said and lifted a huge clay mug in his hand. “For all the ale I am having, it would be a funny thing if I wasn’t.” Mat chuckled. “And what do people call you? You’ve got a name?” “Piercer is what my mother called me, but almost everyone calls me Pee,” he answered and turned around to give him a wide smile, the open mouth revealing quite a few teeth missing there. “Oh, that reminds me,” he said as he started to pull the brake on the cart and yelled, “Ooooo,” to the ox. "Oooo, old Mate, ooooo." He slowly got off the seat to move a few steps away into the waist-high grass, turning his back to Mat. “Nature calls,” he announced it as if Mat needed explanation. Mat knocked on the wooden barrels, tried to move them, and they sounded and felt full. There was nothing else in the cart, surprising Mat who would have guessed that the old man would have at least picked the dead, metal, swords, and elvish trinkets always having a good price. But there was nothing there. There was an old-looking rice bag on the front seat and Mat moved there to look inside. “Can have some salted ham and a few apples there,” the old man said, noticing Mat looking inside. “But I’m afraid I’ve got nothing else. The priests were supposed to give me five hundred pounds of smoked fish and some herbs. I also always get a few loads of fresh bread for a trip back. My lord, could they make that bread taste like heaven on earth. But I guess, all of that is gone now,” he said with a sadness in his voice. “And you sure you do not know what happened to them?” he asked Mat who debated if he should eat man’s last supplies or not. Sure he was hungry, starving, not remembering the last time he ate. “How long of a trip do you have ahead?” Mat asked. “Another ten hours to reach Flirt’s Point, then, another few till Big Joe’s Tavern.” The man had hardly enough food for himself, but an apple just looked too delicious not to eat. “And you sure I can have one of them apples?” “Go ahead, stranger. Still, I would like to-” Mat gave him a hand to help him climb up on a cart. “I know. You would like to know what happened back at the Monastery. That makes it two of us, among others. But I can't help you there. Can’t fucken’ remember a thing.” “Memories… did I tell you a funny thing about memories…?” “Yes, yes, you did, Mr. Piercer.” The old man sighed, loosened the break, and whipped a crack above the ox's head. “You come from far away?” Pee asked Mat after listening to Mat chewing on the apple. “Yes.” “You’re a Farlander, aren’t you?” Mat nodded his head, the sweet and juicy apple about the best thing he ever ate. “Seen any of my kind around?” The old man rubbed his scruffy face. “No, not many," he answered and went for his giant clay mug, taking a small sip from it. “So, what, you could not deliver the ale, so you decided to drink it all?” Mat asked. “Not all of it. You want any, help yourself. Should have a spare mug someplace under the seat. Now this ale will probably have to go to the City of Lan." “And what is going on in the City of Lan?" “A big celebartion. One of a kind. King Weezlow is calling in on everyone. It will be something. I believe everyone is going there.” “Everyone?” “Everyone. All Sevens are going to be there.” “Maybe I should go there as well then. See what gives.” “Certainly, for a Farlander, it should be a place to see.” Mat opened up his shirt and looked at the wound in his stomach. “That is some cut you have there,” the old man said as he noticed his wound. “Yeah, should have seen it... before." “Yeah? So you do remember something.” “Remember killing two Paleskins and then-” “Paleskins,” the man said and spit on the road. “Seems they are not very liked in these parts.” “Liked? Fucken cannibals! I hear rumors of them organizing, in number like never before. A whole army of them. Nobody knows what steered them up, but something had steered them good." That made Mat think about someone. “By the way, you have not seen a woman in dark brown leather, long dark hair, young and pretty, slender, looks almost like a child. Has a big sword with her.” “No,” the old man answered swiftly, keeping his eyes fixed on the road in front. That ‘no’ came a bit too fast, a bit too sharp, made Mat wonder why. “She friend of yours?” the old man suddenly asked. Here we go. “You could say that. Maybe saved my life. A friend would do that, wouldn’t she?” “Yeah, a friend would do that. Once I had a friend…” Pee started to talk, but Mat’s thoughts moved elsewhere. If he saw Helen, that means she was traveling in the same direction. She was after the High Priest. Maybe this is not lost. Not bad. This might not be bad at all. They rode in a silence for a while till Mat suddenly had to ask, “You would not have any weapons on you, do you?” “Just a stick, fight off a wolf or two with it if needs be. Have a good knife,” he said and padded his left hip. “Well, I guess I have an ax, too - you can always call that a weapon,” the old man said and pointed to below their feet where two smooth wooden handles were sticking out. “You reckon we may need them?” “Might,” Mat said and extended his hand, pointing to a distant smoke rising above the forest to their left. “What is that?” “A smoke. Dark. Can't be nothing but trouble.” The old man squinted his eyes, trying to see. “A few farms there, Misty Forest they call it. Good folks. Hate to see something bad had happened to them.” Mat sighed, thought about it all, and figured he had no better clue but to go and look. “I guess I can run over there and see.” “Can’t blame you if you do," the old man added swiftly, seemingly reliefed that he himself would not need to drive the wagon off the road and check on those good folks. "It’s about ten miles. If you run, you’ll certainly get there in no time at all. I’ll stay on the road. You can catch me if you decide. Would love to have you. Share my ale with you, take you to the City of Lan.” “We’ll see, Mr. Piercer. We’ll see,” Mat said as he jumped off the wagon. Then he took the clay mug the old man was drinking and seeing how it was half full, drank it all. “Good, ain’t it?” the old man asked, a smile on his lips and in his eyes. “Yes,” Mat admitted. “Definitely worth coming back for more.” The old man chuckled watching Mat move to the deep grass. “Kill some of them Paleskins if you run into them, Farlander,” the old man yelled after him, but Mat had something completely different on his mind.