"There you are," Fend said brightly. "Somehow I just knew you would have to warn the villagers. I'm glad I was right. Bareback on a wairwulf is fast, but a little rough."

Aspar drew back for the shot, but then he felt something sharp prick him in the back.

"No," a soft voice said.

Aspar lowered the weapon, then dropped it. In the same motion he let his palm hit the hilt of the feyknife.

It was only half-drawn before another hand caught his, and then an arm came around his neck. Snarling, he stomped back with his heel, hoping to break an ankle or knee, but he was suddenly on the ground with his face pressed in the dirt, one arm twisted behind his back, and a shin on his neck. He felt the dagger slide out of its sheath and then the ax come out of his belt. Then his arm was released, and the pressure vanished.

He came back to his feet, but the fellow had backed away, carrying his arms.

"I'm not here to kill you, Aspar," Fend said. "At least not right away. We need to talk, you and I."

"Everyone wants to talk to me today," Aspar said, trying to keep his rage bottled so that he could think. What was Fend playing at?

"Yes, but I have to manage to talk to you without one of us killing the other, which is quite a trick."

"I don't see what we have to talk about," Aspar said.

"About this whole thing," Fend replied. "There's no reason for us to fight."

"Really? What about that business back at the bridge?"

"Not much of a chance for talking, was there? Your friends just charged us. Didn't you expect us to fight back?"

"You've been chasing me."

"Yes and no. After the battle at the Witchhorn, I sent some of my servants out to hunt you. I wasn't with them until just before the fight at the bridge the other day. Things have changed. I no longer mean you any harm."

"Last time we met, you tried to bloody execute me. If it hadn't been for Leshya, you would have. Now you expect me to trust you?"

"You and I have taken turns trying to kill each other for twenty years, Aspar. I'm sure neither of us really remembers why."

"Sceating saints, Fend; you killed my wife."

"Fine, I guess you do remember. But it wasn't anything personal; I didn't do it to spite you. I always rather liked you, Dirt."

Aspar flinched at the old nickname but tried not to let it show.

"What do you want, Fend?" he asked.

"The same thing you want."

"And what is that?"

"To find the Vhenkherdh and restore life to the world. To make a new Briar King."

That was so ridiculous that Aspar felt as if he were choking. The words wouldn't come out for a moment.

"You murdered the Briar King, you sceat!" he finally managed.

"Well, yes-but he was quite mad. He was going to bring back the forest, sure, but he was also going to kill us all. He wasn't the Briar King we needed."

"Oh, I wat not. What sort do we need, then?"

"Your child, Aspar. Your child can be the new Briar King-or Queen, I suppose, if it's a girl. You're already geosed to take her there; I'm just here to help."

"My child?"

"I know Winna's carrying your baby, Aspar. The witch knew it when you met her. Your child can heal the world; isn't that what you want? To fix your precious forest?"

"I do. I just don't believe you do. And I don't trust the Sarnwood witch. I know where the monsters come from, Fend. I know they're born from normal animals touched by the poison in the world, the poison your beasts spread around. Winna was sick from the woorm. Grim's balls, the woorm you were riding. That means there's a monster in there. Now, why would the Sarnwood witch want one of her monsters to be the new lord-o'-the-forest?"

"To heal the world. To take the poison out of it, to make it so her children are born without venom. She's old, Aspar, very old. She kept this world a garden until the Skasloi betrayed her. It was the old Briar King that kept things this way, divided, one nature fighting against another. Your child can bring it all together, make it whole again. It won't be a monster; it'll be a saint, the greatest saint of all."

"If all that's so, why did your wyver attack Winna?"

"Wyvers are stupid," Fend replied. "It didn't know who it was attacking!"

"What about all that business with the fanes, the murders at Cal Azroth? How does that all work in?"

"That was something else," he said. "Hespero hired me for that. That was just murder for money, really. But then he sent me to get the woorm from the Sarnwood. Don't know what he wanted, don't care. The witch showed me the truth, my destiny-to be the Blood Knight."

"Yah. Then why did you try to kill me?"

"The witch didn't tell me we would need you. Maybe she didn't even know at the time; she's strange like that. And, well, I hate you. You hate me. If I don't kill you, you'll kill me. But I'm willing to set that aside for now, and you should be, too."

"You're mad."

"I feel better than I ever have in my life," Fend said. "I've actually got a cause, something to fight for other than my own greed and desires. You ought to be able to understand that."

"You're a liar, Fend. I don't believe anything you've said, and I certainly won't ride with you."

"That's too bad," Fend said. "It'll make it harder."

"Harder to do what?"

"To protect you. There are those who will try to stop you."

"Who?"

"I'm not sure about that. But you'll need my help. I reckoned it would be easier if we worked this out now. I see we can't. But the geos will take you there anyway, and I'll follow and help you whether you like it or not."

Fend mounted the wairwulf, which bristled but let him on. His companions got up on their beasts.

"See you soon," Fend said, taking hold of a rope that necklaced the monster.

Then they bounded off, long legs reaching with incredible swiftness, much faster than a horse. The Sefry who had Aspar's weapons dropped them to the ground. Aspar rushed toward them, scooping up the bow and his quiver, but before he could put missile to string, they were out of sight. He limped to a stuttering run to get to where his horse was wandering, mounted, and gave her his heels, screaming at the top of his lungs as red rage tinted everything.

Whipping around one of the houses, he nearly collided with another rider and for one savage instant thought he would get his fight. But before he let the shaft fly, he realized it was Leshya.

"Fend," he told her, trying to get his skittish mount back under control.

Leshya's eyes were wide and her mouth was scrunched up as if she had just tasted something sour.

"You're alive," she said.

"Yah. Surprised?"

"I just saw Fend and two of the Vaix riding hellhounds or something, so yes."

The horse was over its panic now, and he started off again.

"You won't catch them," Leshya yelled after him. "And you don't want to."

"Oh, yah, I do," he muttered.

Leshya was right, of course. The wairwulves were much faster than horses, and besides, his mount kept shying from their scent.

When he finally gave up, Leshya came trotting up alongside him.

"Why did you come, anyway?" he asked.

"I had a bad feeling," she said. "I get them sometimes, and when I do, I'm usually right. What were they doing, Fend and the Vaix?"

"They were looking for me."

"Good thing they didn't find you."

"Oh, they found me," he said. "Fend offered to escort us through the King's Forest. He thinks we'll need his help."

"His help with what?" Leshya asked, her tone larded with incredulity.

"I don't know," he replied. This time he wasn't sure the lie wasn't his own. It felt awfully natural.

"Really?" she asked, the tone deepening. "He was trying to kill you last time you saw him."

"That's true. I pointed that out to him."

"Well?"

"He said things had changed."