By the time Jessa returned, Marwood was regaling them with the tale of what brought his family across the land to Khelvorias. By the look of Iona, and the tuts of Lloyd, this was something he told often. Marwood welcomed Jessa back to the fire with a warm smile, promising to start over so that she not miss out.

“As I was saying, Miss Jessamine, such dirty business as I've never seen! It all started back in Khelvorias, just before Lloyd was born, with a bandit raiding our homestead. The blighters took our finest horses, set fire to our barn, and all but maimed our farmhand, Hult.” He shook his head once more, and continued with some of that sincere emotion that made brief appearances in between his wild talking. “Lost an eye, did poor Hult. You'll never believe it, but that was but the start of our troubles, though a fine start it was.”

He stood, the fire framing his face in shadows, and spoke with grand gestures. “The local lord, you see, had been tasked to investigate these attacks. Coming more and more often they were. So I went to this man – I knew his father, you see – and told him of ours, asking for his aid.” Marwood paused, giving the air a pained expression. “For a reason, which I do not, and will never understand, the man refused to speak to me.”

Lloyd leaned in close to Redmun. “He knows exactly why.”

Redmun had to hold back a smirk.

“We had one of the richest farms in all Khelvorias, did we. Liabir Farm, known to all! And-”

“Dear.” Marwood looked to his wife with an almost shocked expression on his face. “While I'm sure our guests are in awe of your retelling, don't you think they might want some sleep?”

Marwood stared at his wife, uncomprehending for a moment. “Oh, yes! Of course, of course! Apologies.”

“It's quite alright,” Jessa said, prime and precise, biting off the words.

“Besides,” Marwood said, “looks like young Lloyd's falling off the horse as we speak, aye boy?” The boy's eyes snapped open mid-yawn, once again caught off guard. Both parents laughed that, and even Redmun found himself smiling at the boy's embarrassment. “Will you be accompanying us from now on, then? I'd be more than happy to pay you. Unless that's issue, Dren?”

The old man shrugged. “No issue.”

“We'd be happier not to be paid, if it makes any difference to you,” Jessa said, in that tone she managed to hit that was both polite and final. “We've our own business underway, and prefer to take such things one a time.”

Redmun continued, “But we'd be honoured for your company, if that's alright.”

“Why of course it is!” Marwood said, standing. “Well met many times over, we've been, and I'll not abandon a friend on the road, not for all the wheat in the world! Now, I've kept you awake long enough and I apologize. Please, share our fire and sleep.”

“That's very kind of you, Marwood. You've been gracious hosts.” Redmun and Jessa stood, each giving a polite bow. “We'll take our own corner, and bid you all goodnight.” As he turned he gave Dren a nod, which the man returned.

They retreated into one end of the cleared space, as far away from the rest as they could manage, taking their bags with them.

“So, what do you think?” Redmun asked.

“Either cut out my ears or knock me out and wake me when it's over.” When Redmun snickered at that she shot him a dangerous glare.

“Come on, it's not so bad.”

“It's awful. Is this what city folk are like?” She glanced over at the family, who were putting their son to sleep.

“I think so.”

“I hate it.”

“No you don't. If you hated it so much, you'd have been all smiles and flirting and womanly charm. You're being your usual uncaring self. It's sweet.”

“Whatever. At least Dren seems alright.”

“We'll need to be careful around him.” Redmun looked down at his chest and shrugged. “Or, I will. But I don't think he'll give us trouble unless we give him reason to.”

“Then let's not.” Jessa removed a sleeping roll from her pack and began to lay it down. “Speaking of which, how are you doing?”

Taking a deep breath, Redmun set about to finding out. His hand ached horribly. The idea of his Father's suffering chilled him, the idea that the Corruption was now going to Khelvorias even more so, and the prospect of seeing Rose filled him with rage. Yet the last hour, listening to Marwood's meaningless retelling, sitting with folk around a campfire… It seemed to set things in perspective. As if, despite it all, the world was alright. “That's a complicated question,” Redmun said after a while. “But I think I'm alright.”

Jessa held his eye for a moment, wearing that ever-neutral expression of hers. “Good.”

As his parents set up their own bed, Lloyd lay on his side, facing Redmun and Jessa, and every few seconds opened his eye to catch one more glimpse of them. Marwood and Iona shared a large blanket, and after so much preparation as taking off his hat, they lay down.

“Good night everyone!” Marwood called, which his family mirrored.

Redmun did the same soon after, and elbowed Jessa. “Pleasant wanderings,” she said, sounding like a den mother. Dren said nothing.

The two set up their blankets overlapping. Even with strangers in proximity, with Jessa's back pressed against his own, Redmun felt comfortable. Sleep came quickly.

***

Footsteps in the dirt, one foot heavier than the other, slipped by Redmun's head as he woke. When he opened his eyes, Dren was gone.

He woke Jessa, and together they ventured out into the basin of the tree. They saw nothing of Dren, but heard the neighing and stamping of anxious mounts. They climbed up together, each helping the other overcome their wounds.

Near the top, Dren's face appeared. There was anger there, fighting with amusement. He reached out a hand, which Redmun took.

“Thank you, Dren.” Redmun said as Jessa was helped up next. Dren only grunted, and returned to the five horses picketed in the shadow of the tree, their loads about their hooves. Dren removed a feeding bag from the last of them, and started loading the horse's burdens.

“They awake yet?” he asked.

“No,” Jessa said. “Wanted to get away from them before that one started talking again.”

Marwood grunted, his damaged voice making the sound like a bear's growl as he lifted a saddle and dropped it onto the back of the first horse. “So come to chat, or help?” Dren asked, eyeing Redmun over his shoulder.

“Never took care of a horse, at least not in a way worth mentioning,” Redmun said. “If there's something you need?”

“Don't need untrained hands touching my nags. I don't begrudge you being here. Only reason I've lasted so long with Marwood's cackling in my ear is 'cos my voice is so damned unpleasant to hear. Though I'm not sure Marwood minds, all that-” he'd been coughing in between words, and now he had to stop entirely. His coughs were grotesque, and had him doubled over gasping for breath. Redmun cringed, wondering what living with such a throat-destroying disease would be like. Neither offered to help him. A man's pride was worth more than a pat on the back.

When the fit was over, Dren straightened, cleared his throat with a wince. “All that much,” he finished, and spat. “Bastard,” he whispered to himself. “Tell you what. You two haul those barrels onto that nag, and I'd say thanks.”

The horse in question was very tame, even with the morning calls of the creatures above beginning to grow – Redmun thought it was more Mirds. It took them only a minute to lift the harness into a place on the horse's back where it wouldn't slip off.

“This drink in here?” Jessa asked as they were securing the straps.

“Yep,” Dren said with a sigh. “Man didn't want to leave his vintage, demanded we take it. Fool.”

“No,” Redmun told her before she could even ask. “We aren't getting paid in drink either.” Jessa gave him the expected glare. “How long have you been a Possessor then, Dren?” he asked before she could say anything.

“All my life,” Dren said.

“Really?” Redmun asked. “And how'd you manage to last?”

“Not being an idiot,” he said.

“That all?” Jessa asked.

“Not much more than that needed, once you get down to it,” Dren said, his philosophical tone sounding odd through his strained voice, almost as though he were on the verge of tears, though his face was absolute stone. “Don't take jobs too big. Don't take risks too big. Don't take bad deals.” He had to stop there, and take deep breaths to suppress the coming coughs. “Don't forget to practice your skills – all of 'em. It's all common sense, if you take the time to think about it.” He went to the other horse, the one Redmun and Jessa had loaded with barrels, and after considering the straps for a moment, reworked them. “Surely you've figured at least that out by now,” he said, turning to Redmun, glancing at his hand. “Maybe not.”

Redmun bristled at that. “Sometimes bad choices are the only choices you get, doing what we do.”

“And what are you doing, Possessors? Chasin' after a thing that's half legend, even here? One missing a hand, one missing a foot. What stupid decisions led you here, wanted or not?”

Jessa didn't miss a beat. “Half a foot, actually.”

“Think I care?”

“Yes,” Redmun put in before Jessa started a fight. “We're chasing it. Someone has to. Besides, it killed someone we knew.”

“Oh yeah?” Dren asked, peering up into the air. A few shadows were breaching the edge of the tree's branches, Mirds watching them. “Who?”

“It's personal,” Redmun muttered.

“Then there's your damn problem. Where's it going?” Dren asked.

“North.”

Dren seemed to be weighing his words; there hadn't been much of a pause before Redmun's answer, but it had been there. The old man didn't know anything, at least not yet, but he was suspicious.

“Then why aren't you following it?”

Jessa stepped in, folding her arm. “We're resupplying.”

Dren fixed her with a dangerous glare. “Whatever you like, girl. Whatever you like.” He straightened from his task, patting the horses neck. “Look, they'll probably be another hour. I'd get your sled out here by then, and eat. We'll be leaving soon.”

Redmun nodded, glad to be away from the conversation. He grabbed Jessa by the arm and dragged her towards the basin. Whatever the man suspected, it would have to wait for later.

The Liabirs gave them a hearty good morning as they came back for their sacks. Lloyd's tentative wave was enough to put a smile on Redmun's face, made him feel warm, though it did nothing for his apprehension.

Dren couldn't be blamed, Redmun supposed, for being suspicious of them. Possessors were generally very transitory creatures, moving from one task to another, never staying still for anything but a Dead-March. Redmun's becoming a Possessor had set several precedents, not the least being a Possessor's child. A lack of familial connection was almost a requirement for becoming one, and quite often the reason one might choose to become one. A legacy of Possession was unheard of.

In a way, even though Redmun had done nothing all his life but strive to be the best Possessor he could, he was perhaps the worst example of one. That stung, because he had nothing else, didn't want anything else. Dren, who had lived this life for decades, Jessa who walked on half a foot, and listened to a Banshee's cry without a flinch, and Master who had been the epitome of a Possessor, giving his all with a smile – they were all Possessors both in name and action. Beside them, Redmun felt like a pretender, a failure. If he succeeded in his purpose, nothing would change. Yet if he failed… No-one knew.

Redmun couldn't fail. He wouldn't stop trying. But when Jessa paused from pulling to ask if he was alright, Redmun said nothing. He had no right to complain.

Traversing the Howling Plains with company was much the same as it was experienced alone, windy and far too large. Redmun and Jessa walked in front, setting the pace for the others to follow on horseback. The tickling at the back of his neck was as much from Dren's watchful eyes as the battering wind, yet as the miles moved on – and they, in their larger numbers, weren't assaulted by the Howling Pass's residents – his mood slowly improved. If nothing else, Marwood's chattering gave ample distraction.

“So, you're from Al'Hagr, didn't you say so, Mistress Jessamine?” Marwood asked from atop his horse.

“I did not, but you're still right, Master Marwood,” Jessamine replied.

“Please, Mistress Jessamine, it's simply Marwood.”

“Then it's Jessa, Master Marwood.”

“Hah!” Marwood burst out. “A snake's tongue on her, isn't that so Iona?”

“It is so, love. Sharper than yours, so be careful.” Iona laughed in that way reserved for wives appeasing their husbands.

“I shall, my dear. So, what caused you to leave, Mistress Jessamine? If it's not so rude of me to inquire.”

Redmun stopped a laugh escaping. He knew how Jessa would reply, and how the family would react. He re-adjusted his grip on the sled and continued to pull.

“Not too rude at all, Master Marwood.” Marwood laughed at that, too, for whatever reason.. “My family took me to see the Dead-Earth,” she said, then added with an ominous voice, “where they were slaughtered before my very eyes.” She turned around, and started walking backwards so she could show them her smile, completely devoid of mourning. “Seemed a good time to move on, don't you know?”

“Is that so?” Marwood asked. He was smiling, but his eyes were less than pleased. He looked to his wife for help.

Iona's jaw churned a few times, then she spoke. “And, ah, where from there?”

“Redmun and his Master took me in, turned me into the Possessor I am today.”

“Ah, so that's how you met, aye?” Marwood asked. “A strapping young man, gone to save his love-to-be?” He seemed very pleased with his idea, and looked to Lloyd to reciprocate the grin on his face. Lloyd just blushed.

A bark of laughter escaped Jessa. “Please. Redmun was there, and he helped, but I did the rest. A…” she shut her mouth, and shook her head, clearly thinking better of what she was about to say next. It was for the best, Redmun supposed, with a boy there. It wasn't something most thought about, but romantic relationships weren't very interesting when you have two Evils watching your every move, ready with some word or pain to spoil the mood.

Marwood waited patiently for Jessa to finish talking, and the act made him look fit to burst. “And what about you, Master Redmun?” Marwood asked, finally.

“What about me, Master Marwood?”

“Just Marwood, please, Master Redmun-”

“Then it'll just be Redmun, Master Marwood.”

“Why not tell us about yourself, or your home?”

“Not had much of a home, Master Marwood. Just wherever my Master and I lay down our heads to rest.” No need to mention Rose. Nothing about that woman spoke 'Home' to him.

It was Dren who spoke next. “When did you start your training?” he asked in his voice like boiling water.

Redmun shrugged. “I don't remember. When does a babe learn to walk?”

Dren scratched his beard, looking up at the sky, then nodded.

Marwood leapt into the silence once more. “Your Master must have been an amazing fellow, Master Redmun, to train two such fine Possessors.”

“He was.” Despite the guilt that wracked him on that topic, he tried to keep his voice from becoming too grim. By the silence that followed, it seemed he had failed.

From there the conversation passed on the topic of the Liabir's exodus from Khelvorias, and Marwood's retelling of their glorious impending return. He picked up right where he'd left as if he'd never stopped, his voice battling with the wind, and the ugly cries carried on it. Redmun listened a little, but soon enough Lloyd's horse found its way towards Redmun, and as Marwood's story droned on in the background, Redmun found himself being interrogated by his son.

The questions were infrequent, and usually innocent questions, such as how much Possessors are paid, or if he'd been everywhere in the world. Those questions Redmun answered easily and truthfully, but as the questions became more serious, Redmun found himself unsure as how to answer. How does one tell a child, or even a teenager, that almost half of the people who travelled between settlements died on the transition, and it was only their father's wealth that had secured their lives? Jessa stepped in occasionally, telling the blunt truth before Redmun could weave a softer lie, yet despite the dire facts being thrown his way, Lloyd's questions never ceased. Even Dren joined in, adding an odd word here or there to satisfy the boy's endless curiosity. All four of them kept an ear out for Marwood's prattling on, and nodded or agreed at the relevant parts, but soon the boy's questions demanded their full attention.

“What about Emelia? Is she a Possessor?” The questions were whispered, in deference to his father.

“Of course not. Why would she be?” Redmun asked.

“Well, cos she's lived for like a thousand years, hasn’t she?” Lloyd asked. Again Redmun had to laugh at the boy's innocence.

“No. It's not the same woman, not really. They're just all named Emelia, and have been since Khelvorias's wall went up. It's an illusion.”

“One we aren't meant to talk about,” Dren added.

“Pff. As if.” Jessa brushed her hair aside, as if she'd actually taken offense to the idea. “No government can tell me what I can or can't say. “Evils are easier to get along with than politicians.”

“Might want to watch that sort of talk behind the walls, girl. Archwald cracks down hard.”

“Who's Archwald?” Lloyd asked, saving Redmun the trouble.

“New Possessor Prime,” Dren said, some contempt in the word. “Kind of like the elected Possessor King or Queen, not that any of us give a damn. The only thing the position gives you is a desk to sit behind and the authority to summon all Possessors back for a Dead-March. As if it were needed.”

“You ever met him, Dren?” Redmun asked.

Dren grimaced at the sky, then cleared his throat and coughed out the phlegm. Lloyd made a disgusted sound. Redmun patted the boy's leg in comfort. “Man's a good leader, and a right pain in the arse. I suppose those things go hand-in-hand.”

“…never seen such a thing before! And never thought I would. Isn't that right, Lloyd?” Marwood's calls did nothing to wake the boy from his near-constant slack-jawed stupor. “Lloyd?” Redmun elbowed the boy's legs, and nodded in Marwood's direction.

“Uh, yeah dad!” The boy gave a large wave at his father. “Never before!”

Marwood nodded excitedly. “Exactly! Never seen it's like. I sold it for near on fourty times its weight in gold!”

The four of them quietened for a few minutes, listening to Marwood's story for a few minutes, making sure they knew what was happening. It turned out to some sort of large underground fungus the man had found on his farmstead, something called a 'truffle.'

“Not been back to the city in a while, then?” Dren asked once the requisite time had passed.

Redmun bristled, still feeling those eyes on him. “No, not for a few years.”

“Hmm. A bit late on your reporting then.” And that was all Dren said, his diseased voice letting out no concern at all. Jessa's jaw was tight beside him, and the both of them quietened after that.

“Do you think I'll become a Possessor some day?” Lloyd asked, with a dreamy sound to his voice.