He couldn't sleep. Any time he closed his eyes he could see them, the faceless people, and he couldn't even take solace that whatever magic the Masteritsa had put onto it had given them the peace they were looking for. No, he thought, a shudder running through his body, they were screaming. The spell gave them mercy. Then a more horrible thought came to him, and flickers of memory came rushing back. Richan's marred face, the way Felie had seized in his arms, Aldeim frantically trying to resuscitate Ada, his sister's frantic screams and how his mother had pushed him away to cradle Felie helplessly to her chest. She wasn't responsible for this was she?

She never talked about the things she did with the previous Tsarina, would this be what she did? Is this why Aldeim was so beyond fury at her? No, she wouldn't do that, she wouldn't do such terrible magic on her own family, on her own children! But… but the Masteritsa had said something to her? She had said something before whisking Jozin away as soon as she could. What did she say? He searched and searched his mind, tapping his temples and then his knee like he would do when Aldeim asked him a particularly hard problem. But he couldn't remember. All he could recall was that his mother had been cold and quiet, and the Masteritsa… What was her tone? Had she been upset?

No, he remembered, no, the one that had been upset was Jozin, and specifically when his mother told him they would be leaving soon. Then Tino's words came to him. It was witch magic, Tino said, witch magic on his mother's necklace. Diase would never do witch magic but the Masteritsa… the Masterisa would, wouldn't she? He took out the necklace from under his shirt and swung it back and forth, back and forth and watched the light of the lantern dance across its metal surface. Maybe he could ask Jozin if he remembered, he thought, and then let out a sigh, for he wasn't alone. If they hadn't fled in a rush he would have snuck into the wagons and talked to Jozin, but then they wouldn't have seen those… those things. No, he shook his head, they were… they had been people and they were not things. Even if they had been thrown away by whatever wizard like they were. Was Brytha right about wizards then? Did Diasa and Guigo waste their time at that academy for nothing?

But he shouldn't think those things because it could very well be reflected on him. He was useless to Brytha when he was doing sums and numbers wasn't he? And he was equally useless to Aldeim as well. Maybe if Richan had lived… he took in a deep shuddering breath and blinked away the tears. Maybe if he'd lived and married Nikolas would have come to live with him. Richan would have found something for him to do. Unless, of course, Nikolas was equally as useless in Richan's household.

"Did you know you think very loudly?"

Nikolas jumped, and gave what he knew was a very embarrassed squeak. He fumbled for the lantern and looked into the very amused eyes of Sanice.

"First time seeing unnatural things eh?" said Sanice, conversationally, as she made her way to him, stepping over the snoring forms of the Rystars. "And now your life flashes before your eyes and you are really thinking over things aren't you?"

"No, no," he shook his head firmly. But the woman seemed friendly and not at all upset that he was wasting lantern oil by staying away. "How did you know my sister?"

"Brytha made quite a name for herself," said Sanice in that matter-of-fact voice. "She is young and scrappy and she has good instincts for business. And I don't begrudge youth, sometimes old merchants are set in their ways and while it works in some cases the world's opening up to much more than listening to the guidance of some shut in."

"Did she speak much about me?"

Sanice gave a chuckle at that, "Not much, but then again, merchants don't talk much about family on principle. Didn't you know that, boy?"

Nikolas flushed, but it was not a reprimand so he asked, for future knowledge, "May I ask why?"

"You can sway a merchant's decision through their family, presents and such. Sometimes the husband does the suggestions for you," she pulled out a pipe and began filling it with tobacco. "Open the window will you?"

He nodded and they both moved towards the now open window. There was a soft snick-snap of flint and then a soft greenish yellow smoke came out of her pipe.

"I don't talk to anyone," he said, disappointed that he wasn't sure what Brytha said about him to her merchant friends. Did she not want him to find a wife? Wasn't that how Richan… he banished the thought away from his head.

She held out the pipe to him, an offering and he shook his head, "It's yours, I don't want to intrude."

It must have been a very funny statement he said, for she laughed. "If you're going to Prebovna, you'll eventually find yourself reaching for a pipe." Then taking her pipe into her mouth she let out a contented sigh. "Hm, but you never know," said Sanice. "It's a hard life, a merchant's. You're always on the road and sometimes all that you have is your gut feeling."

He seized the opportunity, "How do you know when to run?"

Sanice coughed, then coughed again before giving him a wry smile, "You meant to ask why I told you all to run?"

"I know—" Nikolas began.

"Look, I know you boys are all about your fists and your pikes or whatever improvised weapon you've got on hand. But when you see something that isn't natural and doesn't bleed, you best get it into your head to run."

"Thank you for the advice," Nikolas said honestly. "But… I mean, how did you know?"

"Were you not afraid of them?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"I was!" Nikolas nodded. But they had weapons, surely… no Sanice was right. He didn't think the weapons would do much against whatever it was they were facing.

"Men," said Sanice with another huff of her pipe. "Listen, Nikolas, I'll tell you this because you're going into a snake's den and it's always nice to have a refresher. I told my children this and I suppose I owe it to your sister to tell you as well." She blew out several rings and then said, "Have you ever seen a deer walk willingly into a snowlion's cave?"

"No?" Again speaking in riddles, he wished people would just tell him what exactly it was they wanted from him. Like Jozin, he thought, then changed his mind, sometimes Jozin spoke strange things as well.

"Right, but you'll often see some poor lad or lass just brazenly walk into a carriage, happy as a clam even though their faces are ashen pale and they've clearly eaten spoiled shellfish," said Sanice.

"I don't know what you mean," said Nikolas, "I wouldn't walk into any carriage." Especially not if his gut was telling him not to, which is what he thought Sanice was trying to say.

"Spoken like someone who'd never needed money," said Sanice. "Listen, Nikolas, in Prebovna fortunes come and fortunes go. Someone will make you an offer you cannot refuse. In that case, I'd want you to think whether you are walking into a snowlion's den or not. If a deer has the wits not to, then I would assume Brytha's brother would do the same. Understood?"

He nodded. Even though he never liked riddles there was an easy friendliness to Sanice that he found comforting. Almost like Surio, whenever he wanted to be friendly.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked hesitantly and when she nodded he swallowed his nerves and continued, "Are there many witch hunters in Prebovna?" He clenched his fists to stop himself from reaching for the necklace.

"There are witch hunters everywhere boy," said Sanice. "But the problem isn't witch hunters."

She took a slow breath this time from her pipe, and let the smoke rings drift from her mouth. "You see, no one wants to be a witch hunter willingly. You see, it is rather hard to go about proving someone is really a witch."

"I thought witches were born?" Nikolas said, frowning. He thought of Jozin and his mother and Diase and Felie and how magic seemed to pass through mothers. At least, witch magic seemed to, but having witch magic didn't make you a witch. It had been explained to him by Jozin once, a long time ago but perhaps he should ask him again.

"Right, but to the first point Nikolas. No one becomes a witch hunter willingly. It's all accusations here, shackles there, and then bursting into your neighbor's house yonder. No one likes that kind of person, and no one wants to be that kind of person unless one is entirely desperate for money."

"Right," Nikolas nodded, even though he could not understand why one would accuse someone else of being a witch.

"The second point being, everyone uses some witch token or another. I don't," here she gave a sly wink, "but who's to say? So this enterprising witch hunter will go around pointing at all kinds of nonsense. Eventually they'll hit upon something, no doubt about that, but you see my point? Best not go around advertising you've got a witch token on you."

At this she gave a glance up and down his general person and he took it that he knew she had something on him. "Right," he said, uncertainly. "It's not a bad time in Prebovna is it?"

"It's always a bad time in Prebovna for someone," said Sanice, and there was a pensive note to her voice.

That statement would not stand in Prebovna, Nikolas knew. Everyone knew that the Tsarina kept her people fed and happy. Or, at least, everyone knew that it was the right thing to say.

"Thank you for the advice," he said honestly. Then, deciding he ought to ask a a final question as well, "Do you know where I can find a scribe? To write letters? I am—" he took in a steadying breath.

Sanice saved him from a confession, "You'll have to be careful with the scribe you choose." She took another puff from her pipe, "Information is a commodity you know, and some scribes make some money under the table, so to say, by passing on things."

"I don't like talking in code," Nikolas blurted out, unable to hide his dismay.

"You'd best go about learning it then, everyone in Prebovna does it. It's not some village you'll be going to Nikolas, it's Prebovna." The smoke rings, together with the light of the lantern with them illuminated her face in ominous shadow, "The biggest den of gamblers and thieves in all of Icfeld."

"You shouldn't say that!" Nikolas said, startled and wide-eyed.

"Oh?" Sanice leaned in and, to his surprise, winked, "Who will you tell about it then, Nikolas? Or are you a liar as well?"

There was something like a challenge in her eyes, like how Aldeim would pause in his lecture and look towards Nikolas, and then he would be jolted out of his thoughts to answer a particularly difficult question. "Sometimes it is good to lie," he decided to say. Which was the truth, and said nothing about him as a person as well.

"Hm. Well, I suppose you wouldn't be too badly off in Prebovna," Sanice remarked. "You asked about codes? I'll let you in on a secret." She smiled conspiratorially, "People do not like remembering boring letters. Whatever trade you decide to take, tell the scribe to write it. No one likes..." she paused, hummed a little under her breath and suggested, "a boring guide on when to plant flowers and which seeds suits best for which weather."

"I don't know how to garden."

She looked him up and down again and to his surprise, winked, "Oh you don't need to know how to garden, there's another type of letter no one really likes to read."

"What?" he leaned in eagerly.

She laughed again, "Oh, poor boy," she patted his back, "I hope you get a chance to send a love letter very soon. But in the meantime," she grinned, "just know the more sickly sweet you sound when you're dictating, the less likely it is that unfortunate scribe will wish to commit it to memory."