"The positions match," Bomanz admitted.

"So?"

"So what?"

"You're being intentionally thick, Pop. A circle is a zero, maybe. Maybe a sign for the one called the Faceless Man or Nameless man. And here the Hanged Man. And here Moondog or Moonbiter?"

"I see it. Stance. I'm just not sure I want to." He told Stance about having dreamed of a great wolf's head snapping at the moon.

"You see? Your own mind is trying to tell you. Go check the evidence. See if it don't fit this way."

"I don't have to."

"Why not?"

"I know it by heart. It fits."

"Then what's the matter?"

"I'm not sure I want to do it anymore."

"Pop… Pop, if you won't, I will. I mean it. I'm not going to let you throw away thirty-seven years. What's changed, anyway? You gave up a hell of a future to come out here. Can you just write that off?"

"I'm used to this life. I don't mind it."

"Pop… I've met people who knew you back when. They all say you could have been a great wizard. They wonder what happened to you. They know that you had some great secret plan and went off to chase it. They figure you're dead now, 'cause anybody with your talent would've been heard from. Right now I'm wondering if they're not right."

Bomanz sighed. Stancil would never understand. Not without getting old under the threat of the noose.

"I mean it, Pop. I'll do it myself."

"No, you won't. You have neither the knowledge nor the skill. I'll do it. I guess it's fated."

"Let's go!"

"Not so eager. This isn't a tea party. It'll be dangerous. I need rest and time to get into the right frame of mind. I have to assemble my equipment and prepare the stage."

"Pop…"

"Stancil, who is the expert? Who is going to do this?"

"I guess you are."

"Then shut your mouth and keep it shut. The quickest I could try is tomorrow night. Assuming I stay comfortable with those names."

Stancil looked pained and impatient.

"What's the hurry? What's your stake in it?"

"I just… I think Tokar is bringing Glory. I wanted everything out of the way when she got here."

Bomanz raised a despairing eyebrow. "Let's go to the house. I'm exhausted." He glanced back at Besand, who was staring into the Barrowland. The man was stiff with defiance. "Keep him out of my hair."

"He won't be getting around too good for a while."

Later Bomanz muttered, "I wonder what it was all about, anyway? Really Resurrectionists?"

Stancii said, "The Resurrectionists are a myth Besand's bunch use to keep themselves employed."

Bomanz recalled some university acquaintances. "Don't be too sure."

When they reached the house, Stance trudged upstairs to study the chart. Bomanz ate a small meal. Before lying down, he told Jasmine, "Keep an eye on Stance. He's acting funny."

"Funny? How?"

"I don't know. Just funny. Pushy about the Barrowland. Don't let him find my gear. He might try to open the path himself."