In the morning, Kite and Saryth found the twins’ hut surrounded by a silent, anxious crowd. Oeric was there, leaning on a younger man, deep lines of weariness and grief carved into his face. Aethelthryth stood behind him, eyes downcast.

“It is made ready,” Oeric said when he saw them, the only greeting they were offered. They went alone into the hut, blinking as their eyes adjusted. Aethelric had been moved to the bed. Lying next to his sleeping twin made them look even more alike, although worryingly he looked more like the pale Leofric than the other way round.

“Aethelric?” Kite said, kneeling down next to the platform. Saryth squatted next to her, Aethelric turned his head to look at them both.

“I’m ready,” he said.

“You’re sure?”

At Kite’s question, Aethelric’s composure cracked just a little. “Will... will it hurt?” he asked, sounding like a frightened child for the first time.

“No.”

“And I won’t feel anything... after?”

“No.”

“Then I’m ready.” He stared at the roof of the hut, a resolute expression on his face. Kite unlaced her boots to take them off before stepping between the twins where she knelt down, putting one hand on the chest of each child. Hastily, Saryth took his own boots off and knelt behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders as she’d told him to.

“This shouldn’t take too much effort,” she said, and she sounded quite calm, with no trace of the tension he could feel under his hands. “We’re only redirecting the focus. Ready?”

“Yes,” he said, and shut his eye to better concentrate. The magic which surrounded Leofric was a kind of haze in his perception, it condensed under Kite’s focus, as though responding to her scrutiny. It was sprawled over Leofric’s head and heart, a smothering mass, attached to him and weighing him down with the immovability of a cliff face. Saryth couldn’t imagine being able to budge it. For all Kite’s lessons, and for all his own ability, he was painfully aware of how little he knew. I want to change that.

He and Kite had discussed their approach to the problem the night before. It had sounded simple, to supply power while she did the fine work. Here, in the dark hut, with two lives linked to their interference, it was a much more daunting prospect. He could feel her needling her way down through the mass to the point where it was linked to Leofric, and he concentrated on pouring a steady stream of power - not through her limited capacity, but straight to what she was doing, which made for a delicate balance to maintain. He could tell she was fiddling with the link, but he couldn’t let himself get distracted by the tiny, intricate manipulations.

Neither of them saw Aethelric close his eyes. Neither of them saw Leofric’s face twitch for the first time in weeks. Neither of them noticed the change in each twin, as Aethelric’s breathing became slow and shallow, and Leofric’s hitched and faltered. But they both felt the moment when the strange smothering mass started to shift, edging over from one twin to the other, and they both felt the strange shock at the end, as it collapsed over Aethelric as though it had never been interested in his brother at all. Kite leaned forwards, then sighed.

“They’re both breathing,” she said, and there was a world of relief in her voice. “Leofric will probably wake up soon.” She stood up and stepped out of the bed. “Let’s get his mother in.”

The same sad, silent crowd was waiting outside. It had not actually taken very long, although Saryth felt as though he’d run several miles in that short time. Aethelthryth was weeping, her face turned half away, her hand on Oeric’s shoulder. Was she supporting the old man or he her?

“It’s done,” Kite said.

Oeric nodded once. “Cynefrid, take the witches to their friend.”

“Leofric’s very weak,” Saryth said, almost more to break the tension than anything else.The only other place he’d ever felt a real link to was Corwaith, and that was very different.

“We will take care of him,” Aethelthryth said through her tears.

“Thank you for your services,” Oeric said. “You have restored hope to us.”

“Thank you for releasing our friend,” Kite said.

“This way,” Cynefrid said, stepping away from the hut, and they followed. Saryth looked back over his shoulder. The small crowd were filing into the hut one by one. They didn’t look very hopeful.

Cynefrid led them up the hillside, on a curving path away from the main village. Their route overlooked a clearing where a small group of people were piling wood in an ordered fashion.

“What’s that?” Saryth asked.

“Preparations for tonight,” Cynefrid said, his tone not inviting further questions.

They were led to a small hut which was completely out of sight of the village. One of the clan stood at the door, apparently unarmed but clearly on watch. He nodded at their approach. “Cynefrid.”

“It’s done,” Cynefrid said. “Open the door.”

Unlike the twins’ hut, this one had no internal light source at all, nor was there any sign of there having been a firepit. This wasn’t a place intended for comfort, this was a place for holding people. A prison. Saryth shivered. The light from the open door picked out a bench on the far side, and on that bench, sitting unnaturally still, a person dressed in a dirty robe with familiar patterns.

“Aeryn!” Kite said, starting forwards.

“Kite?”

“We’ve been looking for you,” she said, stepping into the hut as Aeryn stood up. Both of them together practically filled the small room.

“That’s your friend, then?” Cynefrid asked Saryth.

“Yes,” Saryth said, watching the other man’s dour expression. “Cynefrid, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing.” He looked away. “I don’t want to chase you away, but if you can, it would be better if you left soon.”

“Why?” Kite turned back towards the door, and Aeryn followed. Cynefrid managed to look even more shifty.

“We have a private, um, ceremony tonight.”

“I see,” Kite said. “Well, we won’t intrude. I hope it goes well for Leofric - and Aethelric.”

“Thank you,” Cynefrid said, looking just as grumpy as all the others had. Kite set off away from the village, and Saryth and Aeryn followed. After they’d gone a short distance, and Cynefrid and the prison hut were out of sight, Saryth hurried forwards.

“Are we going back the same way?” he asked.

Kite shook her head. “Not immediately. Something is very wrong down there.” She scowled at the path. “I want to see what this ceremony tonight is. Can you manage to hold a shield illusion all day?”

“No problem,” Saryth said, cheering up. Illusions were still his favourite, still the easiest magic to do.

It hadn’t been the best day so far, and the night before hadn’t been comfortable either, so Kite ended up dozing for the bulk of the day, resting against the trunk of a tree with the others, sheltered by Saryth’s illusion. She woke up to the faint smell of woodsmoke tickling her nose, and for a moment she panicked, thinking she’d overslept, but the sky was only beginning to turn pink with the onset of dusk.

Their tree was a short distance from the brow of the hill, overlooking the clearing they’d seen earlier from the path. Now the clearing was full of people, the bonfire smoking but not yet properly ablaze. Oeric was visible near the bonfire, with Aethelthryth standing beside him. Her posture suggested pride and grief in equal measure. Beside her a child stood, wrapped in blankets and leaning on her, and with a shock Kite recognised Leofric.

“What are they doing?” Saryth asked, coming to kneel beside her and peer over at the clearing. Aeryn hovered behind them.

“I can’t see,” Kite said, squinting through the late afternoon sun. The people milled around, then separated to leave a corridor of space down which one man walked, someone she hadn’t seen before. He bore a bundle across his arms, and Kite’s heart froze as she recognised -

“Aethelric?”

“Kite, are they -” Saryth sounded disbelieving, but Kite didn’t doubt for a moment. Aethelric’s planning, Aethelthryth’s grief, the solemn attitude of the villagers, Cynefrid’s attitude, all leapt into focus.

“Can you still manage an illusion?” she asked.

“Of course!” Saryth was already moving.

“Take care!” she called as he hurried away. His image blurred, then vanished, only the sound of his soft footfalls marking his passage.

“He is good at that,” she murmured, more reassurance for herself than a comment to Aeryn. She looked over at her remaining companion to find him wide-eyed and staring, horror written all over his face.

“Aeryn?”

“They’re...” he backed away, moving down the slope.

“What is it?” She came forwards and he jumped back, holding a hand up, showing more emotion than she’d ever seen from him before.

“Don’t touch me!” Then he bent over, crumpling in on himself, as though he wanted to hide from the world. “Nothing ever changes,” he mumbled. Kite hesitated, wanting to go and comfort him, but it seemed like her touch would not be welcome right now. Instead she sat down near him, keeping an eye on the ceremony below, and wondering if this was something else she was going to get into trouble for. Stopping rituals was not approved of. Even when they involve human sacrifice? Aethelric’s question about not feeling anything once he was asleep made far too much sense to her now. I should have seen this coming.

The sun sank into the flaming sky and the shadows crept around and through the forest until they swallowed her. The ceremony continued, but once they got to the point where what she hoped fervently was not Aethelric’s body was consigned to the fire, she couldn’t bear to watch any more. She listened instead for the shouts of outrage which would have signified the breaking of Saryth’s illusion. Please don’t let that happen. Please. Please be all right.

I shouldn’t have asked him.

Please be all right.

It wasn’t shouts which broke her reverie but rather the rustle and tread of an approaching person. She looked up at the same time as Saryth dropped the illusion. Her heart almost burst with relief.

“You’re all right!” She held out her arms to take the burden of Aethelric’s body. “How -”

“They’re burning an illusion,” Saryth said, sitting down abruptly. He looked tired. “What are we going to do with him?”

“Take him along, I suppose,” Kite said, and eased herself and Aethelric down as well, holding him in her lap as best she could given his size. “We can’t leave him here, and if we take him, he may wake up.”

“Pyetr may be good, then,” Saryth said. “He was kind to me.”

“Indeed.” Kite couldn’t think of where else to go. Certainly Pyetr had been more accepting of her loose interpretation of the Seeker guidelines than she had ever expected a Watcher to be. “Well, we’ll have to wait until the illusion is all ‘burnt’ before we can go.”

“What happened to Aeryn?” Saryth asked, apparently noticing the sad huddle for the first time. Aeryn must have heard them, but he hadn’t responded.

“I have no idea,” Kite said. “He was weeping, then he shouted at me and curled up. Actually, Pyetr may take him too.”

“What about Harien? Aren’t we taking him there?”

“We can’t yet,” Kite said, and felt a weary dread at having to say it out loud. “Vorannen is still looking for him, remember? We have to deal with him first.”

Despite resting for most of the night, Saryth still felt the pull of exhaustion after they’d been through the gate and it closed behind them. “Ow,” he said, folding at the knees and catching himself on the stone paving.

“Good timing,” Kite said brightly, hefting Aethelric on her back. “No-one’s around.”

“That’s because it’s barely dawn!” Saryth grumped, picking himself up and gathering her staff from where he’d dropped it. Kite knocked on Pyetr’s door. It was a few minutes before he opened it, bleary-eyed and clutching a dressing gown around himself.

“Hello? Kite!” That seemed to wake him up. He looked up and down the street, his own check for unfriendly eyes.

“I’m sorry we’re so early,” Kite said. “Could we come in?”

“Yes, yes, do. Please.”

In the familiar hallway, Saryth rested the staff against the wall and shed his cloak. Aeryn followed him through to the sitting room as Pyetr called up the spiral stairs.

“Jig! We have visitors!” Then he came through to the kitchen area. “Please, sit down. I’ll get tea.”

A brief thunder of feet on the stairs announced Jig’s arrival as she burst into the room, a broad grin on her face. “Saryth! You came back!” She flung her arms around him and he staggered back with the force of her greeting. Somehow he was reminded of Kite’s home. Two places where I matter. The wealth of it was overwhelming.

“It’s good to see you,” he said to Jig, patting her shoulder as she hugged him. Kite gave him a funny look.

“So, how about an introduction or two?” Pyetr said as the kettle began to hiss. Saryth sat down in the easy chair and Jig leant on the counter next to him. Aeryn sat down in the rocking chair without prompting. Kite had already arranged Aethelric on the long sofa against the wall, and seated herself at his head.

“This is Aethelric,” she said, “who was nearly sacrificed for his clan in Nordrnaess.” Saryth didn’t understand the wariness in her voice.

“I see,” was all that Pyetr said, and she seemed to relax a bit as she went on.

“I think his sleep is natural now. But it was cursed.”

“We do have a lot to discuss. Tea?”

“Yes please! And yes, we do. I’m really not sure what to do next.”

Pyetr gave her a mug. “Tea, Saryth?”

“Yes please.”

He turned back to Kite. “Why not? And you haven’t finished the introductions yet.” He poured another mug of tea.

“I know,” Kite said, and took a breath. “Aeryn, this is my kinsman, Pyetr. Pyetr, this is Aeryn of Harien. We’ve been looking for him.”

Pyetr jumped, and nearly dropped the mug he’d been about to hand to Saryth, who grabbed for it hastily. “What? Then why -”

“Why is he here? We can’t take him back just yet. It’s just not that simple. That’s what I - we - need to talk to you about.”

Aeryn watched them, wide-eyed, and Saryth watched Aeryn, and wondered what, if anything, he was taking from all of this.