n the darkness before dawn, Isabeau was awakened from her restless slumber by a sharp knock on her door. Micah stirred beside her, equally startled. As she rose and draped a flowery Canthan robe over her long white shift, the boy began to whimper and cry. The urgent rapping forced her to ignore him for a moment. Aki, one of the servants, greeted her with a look of urgency upon her youthful face. The young woman pressed a pile of folded saffron and black cloth into her hands as she pushed apologetically through the door.

“Master Bei has asked that you wear these and meet him at the portal at your earliest convenience. I will pack for you and prepare Micah.”

The day of her departure had finally arrived. While she was occasionally cross with Master Bei and his officers for keeping her ignorant of events outside the guild hall, she never doubted for a moment that they would keep she and her nephew safe. Worse, she did not know where they were taking her, only that it was far away, much farther away from her home and family.

Isabeau nodded, sighing as she took the clothing. She owned very little now. Many of the items she had brought with her at Conrad’s behest had mysteriously vanished upon her arrival. None of the servants knew what had become of her bags but they had lavished her with fine clothes. There was even a small filigree gold bracelet that Mai had delivered to her from an unnamed admirer. She strongly suspected it had come from Zhou’s accountant, Pendaran, but she had not had an opportunity to ask him about it. He was almost as elusive as the man he served.

Aki went immediately to a traveling trunk that Isabeau had been using as a nightstand and threw the lid open. Quickly and efficiently she began folding up Isabeau’s clothing, including the new fleece-lined boots and traveling gear that had been completed by the tailor the day before. She was shocked that she was being asked to wear the strange clothing. It had a faint odor of sweat and its helms were tattered and darkened by the grime of long wear.

Isabeau closed the door and set the clothes aside to go comfort Micah. He clung to her for a few moments, revealing that some of his discomfort was undoubtedly due to his pungent diaper.

“Let’s get that stinky thing off of you,” she murmured, cuddling him gently. Aki stopped what she was doing and went to the chest where the boy’s clothing and fresh diapers were kept.

“I’ll take care of him, Lady De Minuit. Please, you must change and go meet Master Bei.”

Isabeau nodded, ashamed to realize she was relieved that someone else would take care of it. She gasped when she unfolded the gown on top of the stack of clothing. They were savant’s robes of waspy yellow and black. Why on earth did Master Bei want her to look like a White Mantle elementalist?

“He wishes to hide your departure,” Aki said when she saw Isabeau’s hesitance, “Micah will be brought separately to the meeting place with your belongings.”

“What?” she blurted, horrified by the very idea of leaving the toddler alone, “No! He must come with me…”

“I am only following the orders of Master Bei, milady,” the woman said in a frightened voice, “He told me to direct your questions to him.”

“Oh I’ll direct them alright!” she grumbled. It was no good yelling at servants. She changed into the ill-fitting clothes, disgusted by their musky odor and suspicious stains. Micah started to cry when she donned the ridiculous hat with its strange horn-like point and flared collar. She did not blame him in the least.

The boy tried to squirm away from her as she drew toward him in her strange new garb. Aki was struggling to change the boy’s diaper and Isabeau sighed again, deciding it was best if she just got her meeting with Master Bei over with. She ignored the strange looks she got from people as she walked quickly toward the back door.

Once outside she saw the svelte form of Master Bei in his simple black robes with his strange, hooded apprentice standing attentively at his left shoulder. If either of them were aware of her arrival they made no sign. Beside them was a muscular Elonian looking perturbed and awkward in the battered plate mail and bloodied surcoat of a White Mantle warrior. He had a massive hammer resting over his shoulder. Sister Lemony was standing protectively on Peng Ren’s left side. One of her dainty hands clasped his, a reminder that he was blind and dependent upon those around him to steer him out of harm’s way.

There were crates, bundles and sacks filled with gods only knew what stacked between knots of strangers. Master Bei was currently in deep discussion with a silver-haired Elonian necromancer.

“Our last member is here,” Master Bei announced as Isabeau stepped closer to hear for herself what was about to happen, “and happily she did not protest her costume unlike some of you.”

“Those robes came off of a corpse!” Sister Lemony protested.

“I’m not asking your opinion, Liang Meng, I am telling you to wear them.’

“Pen isn’t wearing one,” Lemony sighed, “and I’d never let my belly button show like that.”

“Because he does not need to,” Zhou replied angrily, “Now please change into your disguise.”

Sister Lemony sighed and departed. Isabeau stepped closer to the gathering of guild members and servants as Zhou went over the plan.

“Because I fear a large group of people leaving the island will draw unwanted attention, I am sending you in smaller numbers to the rendezvous point. Khunzar, if you would kindly show Lady Isabeau to the boat, we can begin.”

“I am not happy about being separated from my nephew!” Isabeau said quickly as Zhou turned away from her to instruct the others. His back stiffened and he turned to regard her, his dark gaze at once gentle and unyielding.

“I regret this is necessary, as well. Unfortunately, the White Mantle are looking for a woman and child. I feel this is the best way to deflect their curiosity.”

“But how do they know I am with my nephew?”

She saw the steely glint of Peng Ren’s mask beneath the drape of his hood as he turned toward her. Master Bei’s face grew tense and she sensed he was hiding something from her.

“What is going on?” she demanded, “First you hide me away for fear of spies inside of your own guild, now you tell me they know I have a child with me. As far as I know only my brother and Conrad knew that, so that means someone on this island, one of your people, betrayed me.”

Zhou’s jaw tensed and he lowered his gaze. Isabeau sensed the tension between master and apprentice, knowing the two of them were conversing in silence.

“Now is not the time to discuss this,” Zhou said after a moment, “I regret that I have caused you grief and discomfort, but understand this was done with your safety in mind. Now please, we must move quickly while the White Mantle have their attention turned elsewhere.”

Isabeau sighed, angered once more at the man’s evasiveness and hating that she was at the mercy of someone she did not know well.

“Do not fear. He has pledged to protect you and he will do what he must to keep you and your nephew safe.”

There was such tenderness in Peng Ren’s mental sending that the rage drained out of her and she instead felt embarrassed and ungrateful.

“I’m sorry,” she said silently, reaching out to him and wondering if he could sense her thoughts. It was something she had only been able to accomplish with her brother. In trying she realized how much she missed him and home. There was something immensely comforting in such sharing, an ease that was difficult to capture in clumsy words.

“No need to be sorry, beautiful one. Your anger and sadness is justified.”

Her throat tensed with emotion. She had an overwhelming desire to be held by him, the only person she trusted among all of these strangers. Shame colored her cheeks and she turned away, silently thanking him for being so kind and open to her. In sending his thoughts, he exposed the gentle soul behind the robes and mask. He must have realized this for he withdrew and turned away.

The big Elonian warrior gestured for her to follow him. He spat out a clove as she trotted quickly after him, barely able to keep up with his long strides. As they moved wordlessly through the gate that overlooked the pier and the turquoise expanse of the ocean, Sister Lemony fell into step beside them. The little monk had a distinctly annoyed look on her face as she fluttered along beside them in clothes that were far too large for her. The pale robes rode awkwardly around her body so that her belly button was on constant display.

“This is just ridiculous!” Lemony spat as she tripped and scuffed along in the ill-fitting boots. Khunzar chuckled openly, which only incensed the monk further, “That’s not very nice!”

Even Isabeau had to stifle her laughter for there was something distinctly humorous about the tiny woman clad in garb that might otherwise evoke fear. She fancied that there was no disguise in the world that could hide the monk’s true nature. Lemony was as spontaneous and authentic as a child. She only hoped they would not come under close scrutiny as the three of them climbed down into a skiff and the warrior laid aside his hammer to take up the oars.

“I always get these jobs,” the man rumbled with a long suffering sigh as Isabeau sat on the bench beside Lemony in the stern.

“I could help,” Isabeau offered, although she fancied her less muscular frame would send them paddling in circles. The man chuckled again, his good natured smile bright upon his mahogany visage. He had no doubt reached the same conclusion.

“I’d have no part of that. Just relax. We’ll be on the mainland within the hour.”

“I don’t like this,” Sister Lemony complained, still radiating annoyance at her attire and now the swaying of the tiny boat upon the wide sea.

“Chew some candied ginger,” Khunzar said non-committally, as if he had prepared for this complaint and had the monk well in hand.

“No, I’m not seasick, I just don’t like sending Peng Ren into the north like this. He should be safe at home.”

“Peng Ren is coming with us?” Isabeau asked, fighting to keep the delight from her voice. If there was anyone she was hoping to get to know better it was him. He had saved her after all, and he was an intriguing mystery.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m going,” Lemony grumbled, “I’m not happy about leaving Xiao Jia alone with the old grump, but I can’t bear the thought of Pen without me to keep him safe.”

“He’s not exactly alone,” Khunzar said between tugs on the oars, “There’s a cart and Ebony Starfall is going as well. And the rest of us aren’t going to let him get hurt.”

“I’ll look out for him as well,” Isabeau said, half-hoping she would get an opportunity to chat with him.

“It’s stupid making him wear that mask in the wilderness. At least let him see where he’s going.”

Isabeau hesitated.

“He isn’t blind?”

“No, and if you ask me, I think it’s silly that he puts up with it. I guess it’s no good grumbling about it. Zhou won’t budge and Pen is inclined to obey him. Gods only know why.”

“He has respect for his betters,” Khunzar snorted, “You’re the only one with the temerity to tell Master Bei off.”

Isabeau shuddered at the thought of volunteering to be made helpless. She wondered if Master Bei was a kind man after all to insist upon such a thing from his apprentice.

“Do you know why?”

Lemony shrugged.

“Imagine losing two wives? The poor thing was half mad with grief,” Lemony sighed, shaking her head sadly, “I guess he is doing better. Maybe Zhou does know what he’s doing.”

Isabeau fell silent, knowing it was impolite to pry. Was that the source of Peng Ren’s reticence? No one said anything amid the splash of the oars and Khunzar’s hearty grunts. Soon the green line of shore overshadowed them and the big man leaped out of the boat and hauled it ashore with Lemony and Isabeau still perched in the stern. He offered Isabeau an enormous calloused hand to help her onto the sand. Without further ado he slung his hammer over his shoulder and marched ahead of them.

“Where are we going?” Isabeau whispered as Lemony variously shuffled and stumbled along beside her like a drunk.

“I don’t know. I was busy with Xiao Jia when Zhou was talking over the plan.”

For half an hour they crawled through jungle scrub, the morning coolness giving way to the sultry heat of early afternoon. At last they emerged onto a broad cart track. Her relief was soon quashed when she realized the road was marked with the burgundy and white banners of the White Mantle.

“Are we there yet?” Lemony grumbled as she slumped after Khunzar.

“Almost,” the warrior replied.

Almost turned out to be a two hour hike. They followed the track for roughly a mile before turning off onto a narrow animal track and weaving through dense brush. The way was difficult but Isabeau felt immense relief to be less exposed in the heart of enemy territory. They carried on like this in silence, moving as quickly as the landscape dared until they emerged once more on an overgrown cart track that wound slowly up the shoulder of a forested hill.

The three of them were panting in the humid warmth of the afternoon by the time they reached the flat ridge. Khunzar put down his hammer and wiped the sweat from his brow with the corner of his back guild cape. Lemony made a tired squeal of delight.

“We’re here!” she announced and Isabeau followed her gaze to the line of people, carts and animals hidden just below the brow of the hill. Already several people were rushing toward them, including Ebony Starfall who chuckled as Lemony crashed into her in a sweaty and enthusiastic embrace. Eager to be out of the uncomfortable disguise, Isabeau tugged the horrible hat from her head and shook loose her sweat-matted honey locks. Almost immediately she heard Micah’s distinctive chortle of delight. The toddler careered toward her and collided with her shins in relief.

“Isa! Isa!” he chanted until she picked him up and hugged him.

“We need to move out before sunset,” came a stern woman’s voice. Isabeau vaguely recognized the woman as Ming, one of Master Bei’s officers. The Canthan woman surveyed the scene with a sharp gaze and nodded to others wearing the same pale cape emblazoned with a prismatic palm. There were still so many people she had never met, Isabeau reflected, even after nearly a month among them.

“Liang Meng, stay with Peng Ren on the first cart,…”

“Can Isabeau and Micah join us?” piped the little monk before Ming could finish her instructions.

“Alright,” Ming said with a sharp nod, her dark gaze lingering upon Isabeau for a moment before continuing, “Ebony, please go with the second cart.”

The two carts were each pulled by a pair of large black oxen that stood serenely in their traces, hardly stirring except to twitch an ear or sweep their long tails at flies. The first cart in the procession was the larger of the two and had an area set aside behind the drover’s bench where Peng Ren was currently settled on a nest of cushions and blankets. He grew tense and drew his knees against his chest as Lemony and Isabeau climbed over the bench to sit down beside him.

“It’s alright, Pen, we’re just coming to keep you company.”

She hesitated to approach him when a strange sensation of coldness washed over her consciousness. He was frightened. Isabeau felt his animal terror of awakening to darkness amid strange sounds and people.

“Don’t be scared,” Lemony murmured, taking his gloved hand into her lap and squeezing it gently, “Everyone is here now.”

“Da!” announced Micah as he tumbled out of Isabeau’s grasp and pounced on Peng Ren’s breast. As quickly as it had come, the patina of fear dissipated, replaced by the brightness of joy and relief. Isabeau followed Lemony’s example and sat down, immediately shucking the horrible boots and the reeking outer jacket. Free at last, she leaned back against the padded wall of the cart in the shade of the bench. There was even a heavy canvas awning floating above them to shield them from the blazing sun. It was quite cozy. Micah yawned hugely and plopped down beside her, his sweaty head nestling on her lap. No doubt the journey that had brought him here had been equally as tiring.

The score of servants and guild members took their places on or beside the carts and the journey began. Micah lifted his head in bewilderment but she caressed his face gently, fetching one of the pillows to cushion his back. Once more his eyes grew heavy and with the swiftness innate to a small child, he drifted off to sleep.

Isabeau sensed Peng Ren watching her with his magician’s senses, wondering what pattern of light and color he must perceive with nothing to distract his inner eye.

“I’m glad you are here,” Isabeau thought, reaching to him across the ethers and hoping he would hear her once more, “I was hoping I would have a chance to get to know you.”

“I am grateful that I will not be alone,” he replied wordlessly, indicating that she alone could speak to him thus among the people gathered around them. Isabeau felt inconsolably sad for him then, reading in his gratitude the sorrow behind it.

“May I hold your hand, too?”

“Yes, but do not pity me.”

“Of course not. I admire you too much for pity.”

He turned his hooded head away, his mind suddenly closed to her.

“Sorry,” she breathed, deciding when he did not withdraw his hand that it was safe to gather it up and clasp it upon her lap.

“I am hungry for the nectar of your compassion,” he said into her mind, “but no good can come of such need. I would treasure your friendship. I apologize in advance if I forget myself and demand what no one can give me.”

Isabeau hesitated, puzzled by his words.

“Nothing would make me happier than to be your friend.”

“No doubt someone has mentioned my trials, but I sense in your compassion that I am not alone in sorrow. Tell me how you arrived in this place.”

“And will you then tell me a similar tale so that we can face the night as equals?”

His hand tightened around her fingers and her mind was bright with the warmth of his spirit.

“Very well. It shall make the hours pass quickly.”