"I changed my mind. Couldn't go. I took an oath. Bo.

They took away my job but not my conscience. I've got to stop them."

Bomanz met his son's gaze. Stancil shook his head. "Pop, look at his wrist."

Bomanz looked. "I don't see anything." "That's the point. His amulet is gone." "He turned it in when he left. Didn't you?" "No," Besand said. "Lost it in the fight. Couldn't find it in the dark." He made that funny sound.

"Pop, he's bad hurt. I better go to the barracks." "Stance," Besand gasped. "Don't tell him. Get Corporal Husky."

"Right." Stancil hurried off.

The light of the comet filled the night with ghosts. The Barrowland seemed to twist and crawl. Momentary shapes drifted amongst the brush. Bomanz shuddered and tried to convince himself that his imagination was acting up now.

Dawn was approaching. Besand was over his shock, sipping broth Jasmine had sent. Corporal Husky came to report the result of his investigation. "Couldn't find anything, sir. Not no body, not no amulet. Not even no sign of no fight. It's like it never happened."

"I sure as hell didn't try to kill myself."

Bomanz became thoughtful. Had he not overheard the conspirators, he would have doubted Besand. The man was capable of staging an assault for sympathy.

"I believe you, sir. I was just saying what I found."

"They blew their best chance. We're warned now. Keep alert."

"Better not forget who's in charge now," Bomanz interjected. "Don't get anybody in trouble with our new leader."

"That rockbrain. Do what you can, Husky. Don't crawl out on a limb."

"Yes, sir." The corporal departed.

Stancil said, "Pop, you ought to get back to the house. You're looking grey."

Bomanz rose. "You all right now?" he asked.

Besand replied, "I'll be fine. Don't worry about me. The sun is up. That kind don't try anything in broad daylight."

Don't bet on it, Bomanz thought. Not if they're devotees of the Domination. They'll bring the darkness to high noon.

Out of earshot, Stancil said, "I was thinking last night, Pop. Before this got started. About our name problem. And suddenly it hit me. There's an old stone in Oar. A big one with runic carvings and pictographs. Been around forever. Nobody knows what it is or where it came from. Nobody really cares."

"So?"

"Let me show you what's carved on it." Stancil picked up a twig, brushed a dusty area clear of debris. He started drawing. "There's a crude star in a circle at the top. Then some lines of runes nobody can read. I can't remember those. Then some pictures." He sketched rapidly.

"That's pretty rough."

"So is the original. But look. This one. Stick figure with a broken leg. Here. A worm? Here, a man superimposed over an animal. Here, a man with a lightning bolt. You see? The Limper. Nightcrawler. Shifter. Stormbringer."

"Maybe. And maybe you're reaching."

Stancil kept drawing. "Okay. That's the way they are on the rock. The four I named. In the same order as on your chart. Look here. At your empty spots. They could be the Taken whose graves we haven't identified." He tapped what looked like a simple circle, a stick figure with its head cocked, and a beast head with a circle in its mouth.