Laevi stood on the boulder-strewn shore of the northern sea, breathing deep of the salt air but shivering at the cold. The northerly wind cut straight through his robes, and only his hardened silk coat gave him any protection from its bite. He was used to the sea, yet the coast of Veroi was nothing like this desolate place. Across the sea to the north, great peaks rose above the horizon and a vast field of white lay atop the waters only half a mile away. He had never seen anything like it.

The Transgressors had wandered for weeks on the twisting paths of the Mingling, drenched by constant rains and stalked by beasts. Often, the clouds hung so low that they could barely find their directions by day. The paths were treacherous and winding, splitting or joining others or winding for no apparent reason.

They had seen no sign of the quth for weeks, yet they kept on their foolish way, the latest plume leading north whenever they could find a trail that complied, or knew where north was at all. Melanu had a single-minded focus on the north, and Laevi couldn't understand it. They'd lost the quth. Even so, he and the rest of the Transgressors followed him. Standing on the shore, Laevi stared at Melanu's back and wondered why he did not push the plume into the sea and leave. He could go anywhere. Three days ago, two of their number had stripped naked and fled into the forest, screaming incoherence. Melanu told them to forget about them. Could he mimic such a behavior?

It was a bad plan. Alone, he would die, but with the others, they might reach Findeluvié again. Over thirty of their number had already died since they parted ways with the riders in pursuit of the quth. If they all agreed to go home together. . . The idea of disobedience would have been unimaginable, once. It was not so, now.

Yet how could he return to his family without his disobedience becoming known? Might the Synod visit treachery upon his children? He had a son. What if the Synod sent him back to the Mingling, and his son with him?

For the sake of their families, it would be better to try to rejoin the rest of their company somewhere far south in the Mingling. He reached up and drew the stone pendant out from beneath his hardened coat, clutching it while imagining his betrayed plume struggling in the sea waves while the rest of them watched.

"Liel," someone said. Melanu turned. The vien who had spoken pointed southeastward, far down the coast. "What is that?"

Laevi turned to look as well. Far down the coast, on a little wave-battered outcropping of rock, there was a gleam of vibrant green. It was too far to make out exactly what it was. Melanu squinted.

"Let us investigate."

Laevi sighed. He wanted to return to the treeline and get out of the battering wind. His jaw ached from clenching against the cold. There was a great sweeping bay between them and the distant point of rock where they saw the green. They would have to double back along the shore, whipped by spray the whole time unless they went even further inland. Nevertheless, forming into a triple column, Melanu lead the most direct and miserable route. At least for a time, Laevi could turn his face away from the worst of the chapping wind.

It took them most of an hour before they could see that the shock of green was in fact a stand of trees growing in a dense copse on the outcrop. They were not the wind-blasted evergreens growing at the treeline to the south, but what appeared to be vibrant palms and fruit-trees, with flowering vines and bushes beneath. Laevi struggled to believe his own eyes. The copse looked dense, and no doubt within they could find some shelter.

"Liel!" one of the vien said, straining to try to make his whisper heard above the wind. Melanu turned and followed the point to the southeast, looking toward the fringe of the forest over a mile away. Laevi saw what had excited his comrade; a few thin trails of smoke rose from the forest, dissipating in the wind almost as soon as they reached the treetops. They were barely detectable. It was a good sighting.

Only the quth built fires. Was it their particular quarry, or some others?

"Stay low and follow," Melanu called. "Be ready." He hurried forward as the others repeated his commands down the line. Laevi was close enough to the fore to have heard the words, himself. Melanu broke into a brisk jog, heading for the point and the cover of the live copse. It was the nearest hiding place, apart from clinging to the rocks on the shore, and the only one that offered some protection from the elements. Already their clothes were damp from the spray.

The distance closed rapidly. Their months in the Mingling had hardened them, though they had found little food in the past week or more. Laevi's mouth watered as they neared the copse. Those were lemon trees. It must be some aberration of the Mingling, some mistake of the Currents to allow them to grow in such a hostile place.

The plume raised a hand and stopped, crouching. The others followed suit, arrows ready. Melanu turned.

"Beware of Canaen sorcery," he said.

Laevi knew he was right, despite the urge to rush in and pluck the ripe fruits. He could see them. He could practically taste them. The Transgressors had learned to do nothing without an arrow nocked, but Laevi flexed his hands, trying to loosen their stiffness in the cold. Melanu stalked closer to the copse, motioning for the vien to encircle it. Laevi angled south, and as he came beneath the eaves of the nearest tree, the wind ceased and warmth embraced him, the smell of citrus leaves tart on the air. He breathed in the freshness, and as he did, he heard voices within the copse—vien voices.

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Laevi glanced to his comrades on either side; they had heard, too. Using all their craft, they stalked into the undergrowth. The little patch of life was only twenty yards wide at most, and they had it completely encircled. There were no dried leaves or dead twigs within, just springy moss, and the bushes and trees bore no thorns. They passed without sound, and within a few feet Laevi saw a brighter area in the center where daylight reached the ground. The sound of flowing water mingled with the voices.

"See if you can heat the water to steam," a vienu said.

"Would not that go against its will?" a vien asked.

"Move the heat from the air. The air already wishes to warm the water."

Laevi ducked into a crawl to pass under a thick grapevine laden with bulging purple fruit. He saw the legs of the speakers in a little clearing beside a fountain that bubbled up from the mossy ground.

"Make sure—" the vienu stopped mid-speech, then shouted: "Falo!

Laevi sprang forward as other Transgressors appeared from every direction, arrows trained on the two Canaen. The two were unarmed and clearly surprised. Laevi did not release his arrow, nor did the others. Melanu burst through the foliage.

"Shoot the sorceress!" he shouted. It was clear what she was—the Change was on her face.

"No! Stop!" The Canaen vien raised his hands as he shouted. Laevi's muscles contracted. His bowstring was drawn back against his cheek, arrow trained on the vienu's throat, yet he could not loose. The same stillness had gripped the others. His heart raced as he strained against the Canaen sorcery.

"Drop your weapons!" the vien commanded.

Some resisted longer—the plume longest of all—yet at last bows fell to the moss. This was not the usual Canaen sorcery—not like the flames and piercing roots they had experienced before. Laevi had never heard of power that could steal control of a vien's own self. He reached up beneath his coat and loosed the quth dagger, letting it fall to the ground as well.

"How many are you?" the vienu asked, her face flushed and her teeth bared. "And where?"

Laevi and the others looked to their plume. Melanu's face contorted.

"Answer her," the vien said, looking at Melanu.

"One hundred seventy-three," he said.

"All here?"

"Yes." The plume hesitated. Most had stayed outside the trees, but they all surrounded the little copse. "What are you?" Melanu asked. "How do you stop us?"

"I am the scion of the Tree of Talanael," the vien answered.

Laevi stared.

"That is impossible," Melanu said. It was common knowledge that the Tree of Talanael had failed. The blessing had not passed to the heirs—or at least, no scion of Talanael had joined the Synod after the death of the last High Liel decades ago.

"And yet you obey me," the vien answered. The plume struggled, his face flushing red.

"Have them leave their weapons here," the sorceress said to the vien. The two Canaen were dressed in long robes of heavy cloth. "Come," she said.

"Follow us," the vien commanded, and the Transgressors parted as the two passed along a narrow path leading to the edge of the copse. As they emerged, the cold wind struck that again, and the Transgressors outside the copse stared in confusion at the procession. Many of their number could not have heard what happened in the copse, for they could not draw near enough to enter its shelter, and the wind outside swallowed any low sound.

"Drop your weapons and follow!" the vien shouted. Scores of bows clattered to the rocky ground.

As they walked away from the trees into the lichen-and-moss-covered fields rising toward the treeline, the cold wind whipped the long robes of the Canaen so that the hems made snapping noises. The two Canaen led them to where the wind still eradicated thin wisps of smoke among the treetops.

"Quth!" someone shouted. Laevi flinched, but kept walking. He had no will to stop. Quth were breaking from the tree line, running hunched toward them, their weapons held low in long arms.

"Do not fear," the vien said. "You will not be harmed. There is shelter in the trees."

Relief washed over Laevi like a warm sea wave, and he took a deep breath even as the quth rushed toward them. On they trudged, following the two Canaen. In minutes, the massive quth encircled them, glaring with amber eyes amidst their monstrous hairy faces. A few of the bigger beasts huddled around the sorceress, shielding her with their bodies.

"What will you do with us?" Melanu asked.

"I will find a way to set you free," the vien answered. "I will take you east, if I must."

The vien stopped, looking toward the vienu sheltered amidst the quth. The whole column of Transgressors and the surrounding quth stopped as well.

"What?" he appeared to ask.

"Stop for a moment," she called to him more loudly. They had neared the middle of the open ground between the shore and the treeline. A few stunted pine shrubs grew here and there, but nothing that could protect them from the cold. Laevi's jaw ached.

"Come aside with me a moment," the vienu said to the vien. Laevi was close enough to hear. The two stepped away, and the quth let them through, closing the gap again behind them. Laevi had never had leisure to observe them up close before—not when they were alive, at least. Their hair flowed in the wind like strands of silk. A few had thick ruffs of hair around their shoulders and necks, but others didn't. He wondered if it was a sign of age. All those present appeared to be male. They didn't even cover themselves.

One of the ruffed quth stepped forward and drove his long blade through Melanu's stomach. The point burst out of the plume's back. Melanu raised his face, mouth open, but he did not cry out. The other quth bore down on them. A few of the vien shouted. Laevi spun around, searching for anywhere to run, anything to use to defend himself.

"No!" he heard the Canaen sorcerer yell. "Stop!"

Laevi joined a knot of the Transgressors as they rushed forward, trying to push and scatter through the quth by force of numbers alone, but a quth axe caught him in his thigh, tearing through the muscle with white pain. A blade drove beneath his armpit and into his lungs. He collapsed onto the desolate ground.

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