“I grieve because of what happened to Quon,” Shad said. “But I do not pity him, I envy him. He has already entered Charis, the home I’ve yearned to enter since long before Quon was born.”

“The Woodsman knows our doubts, our struggles, Nick,” Malaiki said. “Let’s talk to him.” Malaiki bowed her head, as did Shad.

“I wish we still had Quon, mighty King,” she said. “We don’t understand why you took him. But we trust you nonetheless.”

“I don’t understand either,” Shad said, voice quivering. “But I ask you to make me as faithful as young Quon.”

At first I resisted, but when I heard their words, I melted a bit, though I did not pray aloud.

“You died,” Malaiki said to the King, “so we know you understand. You lost your beloved when you didn’t have to. And you did it all for us.”

For a few minutes I breathed pure air from a life-support system that gave me strength to keep going in a world gone mad.

Shad and Malaiki went back to join the others, asking me to come also. But I insisted on retreating again. There was too much on my mind. I had no more illusions of an easy road this side of the chasm. I had no reason to believe that what had happened to Quon would not happen to me.

You killed Quon. Will you kill me too?

Just when at long last I thought I’d found life, I stared into the eyes of death. I put my right hand on my wounded left shoulder, stretching my broken ribs and feeling the tears run down my cheeks.

I looked around me. I didn’t know who I was or where. But I knew I had to get away. I refused to surrender to fate or providence or luck or circumstance. Nick Seagrave vowed to regain control.

The next day I walked alone, saying nothing. The previous night’s dreams and whispers and unrest boiled down to this—it just wasn’t working. I’d be better off walking by myself, perhaps even turning around, at least for a while. I needed to launch out and call my own shots, not wind up the victim of someone else’s bad decisions. If I could, I’d make my move before we started up Mount Peirasmos.

We stopped at dusk and set up camp, eating a dinner of roasted rabbit, which David managed to trap, taking up the role of hunter in Quon’s absence. The rhubarb and black-eyed peas weren’t bad, but the rabbit was delicious.

“Where’d you get the spices?” I asked David.

“I bartered for them with two of the roadwalkers we met this afternoon, remember?” he said. “Shad insisted I take a RoadGuide from him, so I finally did. I managed to trade it for some salt and pepper.” He laughed. “At least I got some practical use out of it!”