I said nothing, though I took her hand, which she suffered me to hold, and I waited.

"Finally, I realized that the wash was on my right, not my left. That's how it had been before I crossed the bridge, so I didn't think anything of it at first. But then I realized it, and I knew. I'd gone north instead of south."

She cried and cried, but eventually she managed to go on. "I probably should have turned back, but it seemed like I'd gone such a long way, and I didn't know if maybe there was another Fal'Borna settlement to the north. There might have been. I've heard that they move around a lot, so it was possible. And I didn't know if maybe it was close by, and by turning around I was just going to make things worse than they already were. So, I kept going. I still didn't find anything, but then I was even more certain that I didn't want to turn around. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to sit down and cry.

"My torch was starting to die, and I didn't know what to do. And then the path went up a big hill, and just as I reached the top there was a flash of lightning, and I saw that I'd found a village after all. I was so happy, I just ran toward the houses, shouting as loudly as I could and waving the torch over my head. I didn't know what town it was, but I didn't really care. I just shouted and shouted until people started opening their doors and looking out at me.

"I told them that I needed help. I said that the pestilence had come to our village and everyone was sick and we needed Qirsi healers. I remembered it all, everything Mama and Papa told me to say.

"But instead of saying they'd help me, they told me to leave their village. said it all again, or at least I tried to, but they cut me off and said I had to leave right away, that they were Y'Qatt and they couldn't help me." She looked at me, her eyes brimming yet again. "I didn't know what that meant. They kept on saying that they were Y'Qatt and that they wouldn't do anything to help me. And I didn't understand. I kept on asking them, begging them. I told them my mama and papa were dying. But they wouldn't do anything.

"'We're Y'Qatt. You've brought the pestilence to an Y'Qatt village.' That's what they said, again and again."

"It's not their way to use magic," I said, trying to explain, though I'm not certain why I bothered.

Licaldi glared at me, as i f I were the one denying her pleas for help. "They threatened to kill me," she said.

"What?"

"When I wouldn't leave, they said they'd kill me. They said they had to, to protect themselves."

I just stared at her, unable to believe that even the Y'Qatt would go to such lengths to avoid using their magic.

She scowled at me, looking so hurt that I still shudder to think of it. "You don't believe me. I can remember exactly what the man said. The pestilence is just as deadly for us as it is for you. More so, because we're Qirsi. Now if you don't leave us immediately, we'll have no choice but to kill you and burn your body. We have bowmen here; men who can kill you from a distance if necessary.'

Then he called to a man named Fikar, who stepped out of his house holding a bow. He'd already nocked an arrow in it."

She eyed me again, that same pained look on her face. "You still don't believe me."

"Yes, I do," I said. And I did. Horrible as it was, I believed every word of it. "What did you do then?"

Licaldi shook her head and closed her eyes. "There was nothing to do. I said something terrible to them and I left." She opened her eyes again, though she wouldn't look directly at me. She seemed spent now, tired beyond tears. "My torch died on the way home, but I managed to find my way without it. I think it was raining still. I don't know for certain. I remember there was more lightning and thunder, but the rest…" She shrugged.

"And when you reached the village?" I asked.

She stared up at the ceiling. She shed no tears now, and when she spoke again her voice was flat. "It was too late. Mama was at the river Papa, Kytha, and Baet were in the house. But they were… they were all dead. I think everyone in the village died that night. All because I went the wrong way. And all because the Y'Qatt wouldn't help me."

"Anyone could have made that mistake, Licaldi. On a night like that, with your family sick and a storm blowing, anyone could have gone north instead of south."

"They were depending on me, and I failed. And because of that, they're all dead."

"You're just a girl!" I said, feeling tears on my own face. "You're eight years old. You're too young to bear such burdens. You need to find a way to forgive yourself"

She met my gaze then, looking too sad and too wise for her years. "If it was you, could you forgive yourself?"

I had no answer, and for a long time neither of us spoke. Finally, I asked her, "What was it you said to the Y'Qatt?"

Licaldi closed her eyes again. "Do I have to tell you?"

"Of course not, child. I was just asking." I leaned forward and kissed her forehead, which still felt hot. "I think you'll be better in the morning," I said, wanting it to be true. "You should rest now."

She nodded.

I got up, crossed to my bed, and picked up this journal, intending to write down all she'd told me. But as I sat, she spoke my name. Looking at her I saw that her eyes were open again, shining with the light of candles.

"I told the Y'Qatt that I hoped the pestilence would come to their village," she said. "I told them I wanted them all to die."

Perhaps I should have scolded her. It was an evil thought, even for a child who must have been so angry and desperate and forlorn. But I merely nodded, thinking to myself that I probably would have said much the same thing.

So, now she sleeps, and I write, having learned at last all there is to know of her tragic tale. I am hopeful that as her fever fades and she grows strong again, she will be better off for having unburdened herself But it is only a hope. She is so young to have seen and lived such horrors. It is said among our people that where a healer's touch fails, time works its own magic. Some wounds, though, can never heal. Instead they fester

It remains to be seen which kind of wound fate has dealt this child.

Besh sat back and laid the daybook aside. Any doubt that had crept into his mind over the past turn was gone now. Lici was alive. He was certain of it. And more, she was wreaking vengeance across the land.

Sixty-four years to the day after she appears in the village, the old woman vanishes. And within a turn of her disappearance the pestilence strikes at three Qirsi villages, at least two of them Y'Qatt. He stood and strode out the door into the midday sun. Walking quickly to the marketplace, he found a Qirsi trader, a young woman who was selling wines from the Nid'Qir.

"Buy a skin today, good sir?" she asked, smiling at him.

"No, thank you. Tell me, though: Have you ever heard of a town called Tivston?"

"Tivston?" she repeated, frowning. She shook her head and made the warding sign against evil, as if she were Mettai instead of Qirsi. "I know Tivston. It's very bad there now."

"Yes, I've heard. Is it a Qirsi village?"

"In a sense, yes," she said.

And he knew. Even before she could say anything more, he felt the hairs on his neck and arms standing on end.

"They're Y'Qatt in Tivston; Qirsi who use no magic."

Besh nodded. "Thank you." He started to walk away.

"Of course, good sir. Perhaps now you'd like to buy some wine."

He knew he should have, out of courtesy if nothing else. She'd answered his questions, and so had told him the last thing he needed to know before speaking of this with Pyay. But the thought of taking even a sip of wine just then made his stomach turn. He merely shook his head and walked to the eldest's smithy.