There was a mad scramble towards the wagon, the Rytsars all running for wagons nearest to them, the two other merchants jostling for the reins. The horses were oddly calm, all things considered, but when Sanice spurred them on with the reins and her frantic shout they quickly began to canter. He knew he should close the wagon windows and doors and banish the sight of the creatures but there was something about them. Something familiar but not, and it terrified him, because he had never seen such abominations. So ignoring the protests of the Rytsars behind him he opened the window and leaned out, squinting into the darkness, a lantern in his hand.

They could not run fast, the creatures, they were shuffling, sightless and directionless. A chill ran down his spine as he heard the sound again, clearly, and it was a voiceless scream, terror and madness. Then he felt it, the warmth of his mother's necklace. It was on instinct that he pulled it out and as he did so he saw a flicker of light. Then a stream of it began pouring out, and it spiralled, breaking into a million small dots like fireflies, careening towards the creatures. One by one the light touched them and one by one, as if many candles were being blown out, the murmuring stopped. He felt the blood froze in his veins at what he saw next.

They were not monsters, or abominations came forth from the light. He could see the figures of people, a farmer and her scythe, a man holding his child, a blacksmith and his hammer, a merchant and with her lodger, a guard with his pike, a physician and her pestle, and… here he swallowed harshly, a girl holding a basket. They turned their sightless eyes upon him and the little girl waved. Then she took the hand of the physician, who curtseyed at him, and the two of them faded away. And with that, like a trickle of water before it became a tide, the rest of them did as well. They, the people that once was, waved, bowed and curtseyed to him as one by one they left the earthly realm.

"What was that?" Nikolas startled and turned to meet the wide eyes of Tino. "What did you do?" He glanced over at the Rytsars, still cowering, lowered his voice and said, "Talk to me later."

Nikolas had no intention of doing so. He fumbled for the necklace. It was no longer warm, and looked, to his untrained eye, like a necklace. It had his birthday on it, and his father's and mother's name. But that was it. How had it done something like this?

Then he thought of the Masteritsa, and how she had touched it when she visited so many years ago. Was this witch magic? Did Jozin know that his mother could do such things? Would he be able to tell Nikolas what those… What happened to the people? It was not natural, what had been done to them. He shuddered, remembering the reptilian skin and the sightless eyes and the mouths that could not scream. What horror came upon those men and women and… he swallowed harshly, children?

And why was his gut screaming that he had seen this all before? He was not one for nightmares or wild stories or witchcraft and wizardry. He strained his head, trying to sieve through his memories for something, anything that could lead him to such a conclusion. He came up with nothing. Perhaps he was too stupid to think, he was never as clever as his siblings. Brytha would have drawn out a map, a time map, and would have determined precisely when this memory would have occurred. The twins would have simply asked each other. His musician sisters would have simply remembered a song they had listened to or played during this time and it would just occur to them. Richan… He froze.

"Hey, hey."

Someone was gently shaking him, and he shook his head to find Tino giving him a concerned look. The most concerned look possible, Tino looked vaguely constipated.

"Are you alright?" Tino held out a waterskin to him, and Nikolas could smell the wine within.

"Yes, yes, I am," Nikolas insisted, waving the wine away. That was the last thing he needed at the moment, wine to dull his senses and memory.

"They're mostly asleep now," Tino continued in a soft whisper, "You mind telling me what witch magic you've got there?" He gave a chuckle, "Don't worry I won't tell anyone."

"It's not witch magic!"

"Listen, Nikolas, any Rytsar with sense carries around some witch token. The wizards are an extremely stringy bunch and don't serve anyone but the royal courts. If you want protection, you go ask a witch," here he reached into his own pouch and pulled out a small carving tied to a string. "This is mine, see?"

Nikolas narrowed his eyes. The carving was of a heron, with a particularly long, spiked beak, and it looked normal enough to him.

"I can't swim," said Tino, tapping the heron's wing with his hand, "and this here fellow had been protecting me."

"I don't believe you."

"I'm not jumping into any frozen rivers for you to see."

That was a fair point but it wasn't good enough to confess any of his secrets to a stranger nor was it to believe that a wooden heron could save Tino from drowning, "You said witch hunters look for people but you carry a witch token with you," Nikolas muttered, raising an eyebrow. "Now you expect me to believe you?"

"I thought I made it clear I disapprove?"

"No."

"Fine," Tino glanced again at the sleeping Rystars and Sanice. She had switched places with the Rytsar and was now mumbling in her sleep. They both watched as she tossed and turned before Tino motioned for Nikolas to follow him to the furthest side of the wagon. "I can talk more tomorrow. I'll show you what my witch token can do as well, but it's not something you'd believe easily."

"What is it?"

"It's a heron right?" said Tino, "So it fixes small things, a stitch here, a strip of leather there."

Nikolas barely held back his snort of disbelief. Not that he didn't believe something like that could be done, but that Tino thought it was decent proof that his wooden bird did magic.

"What, are you going to cut open your sleeve and then this bird will just fix it on the spot? A likely story," said Nikolas.

"As likely as your pendant was to do… whatever it did to those…" Tino looked as lost for words as Nikolas. He swallowed, clenched his fist, and continued, voice steady, "People."

"You saw them as well?"

"I have eyes, don't I?" Tino gestured with two fingers towards his eyes, "That wasn't natural, whatever that was."

"Magic?"

"No, no," Tino shook his head. "That's not normal magic. The witches don't do these kinds of magic."

"How do you know?" Nikolas narrowed his eyes.

"The same as you know it's safe to put on that necklace of yours!" Tino hissed back. "A witch gave it to you didn't she?"

"My mother gave it to me and she wasn't a witch!" He wasn't about to tell on his connection to Skapina.

"Then she sure paid a witch to put a spell on it. Because that isn't wizardry, they don't do those things!"

They stared at each other, a stalemate, before Nikolas remarked, keeping his voice steady, "You know a lot about magic for a Rytsar," he stared at the sleeping Sanice, felt for his pouch and pulled out the bottle of good wine. "Would you like to share?" He held it out to Tino, half-hoping the other boy wouldn't take it because it was a fine vintage and he might need it for later. But that was the only show of trust he could think of at the moment.

"Keep it," said Tino, eyeing the wine and gesturing for Nikolas to wrap it up and put it back into his bag, "keep it for someone else. You'll need plenty of bribes in Prebovna."

This was advice freely given, thought Nikolas. "I didn't mean to doubt you," he said honestly. "I have never met anyone who knew of witches and my father told me to not ask about them." It was always good to mix a lie and a truth. He still wasn't sure what to make of Tino.

Aldeim's voice came to him, and the advice he'd given him along with the farewell. Nikolas paused, casting a look at Tino, then at the sleeping Rytsars and Sanice his mind flying madly like the seeds of a puff flower. What kind of person is he at horse races? He wasn't sure, Tino had given him advice, so that was good, but he was clearly paranoid that Sanice would overhear. So was it the merchant women that Nikolas should be concerned about? He stored the thought away, it was useless to think too much on it while he was supposed to be holding conversation with Tino. But the other boy didn't seem remotely disturbed, perhaps he thought Nikolas might be homesick.

"Of course he did," Tino agreed, taking the water skin and drinking the wine inside. "Good man. You shouldn't go asking for witches."

"Not in Prebovna?" He tried to keep his tone light but the part of him that eavesdropped at doors wanted to know if this also applied to Skapina. Jozin hadn't said anything, but he felt a nagging worry nonetheless. Surely the witch hunters had not come to Skapina. He had only recently talked to Jozin, the dragon scale mirror wouldn't show him a falsehood would it? Or was it capable of summoning whoever it was he wanted to talk to and giving him a vision of himself talking to them?

Tino made a sympathetic noise in his throat, and awkwardly scooted closer. "Look, Nikolas," said Tino, placing a hand on Nikolas's shoulder. "If you don't go asking for trouble, trouble won't find you."

The gesture felt familiar, and the cadence of it, the warmth of Tino's arm around him... it felt so familiar. Where had he... Nikolas clenched his fist, digging his nails into his palm. It was the last time he had seen Richan, and he'd caught a glimpse of Richan's face before a sheet was pulled over it. What had it looked like... like someone distorted his brother's face, like taking a paint brush and swirling it over a still wet canvas. Then he thought of the faceless men and women and with a sinking feeling it all came together like the links to an unfinished chain.

It was not a normal sickness that took Richan, Lianne, Felie and little Ada. It was too sudden, too quick, and too... unnatural. No one dared say it in Aldeim's house and they didn't talk about it among themselves. Brytha had buried herself setting up the new business and running it. His two remaining sisters had clung to each other and their music. But Diasa, Diasa had poured over books and books, she and Guigo both, the twins searching for some meaning that Nikolas didn't know. They had refused to tell him, and taken their secrets with them when they entered the academy as promising wizards. He might be the talentless on in the family but he was not a complete fool, Nikolas thought. He knew what Diasa and Guigo were looking for now, and wondered if they'd set themselves on a fool's errand.

There was no earthly way the wizards would ever teach or write about the unnatural magics that led to his family's deaths. Unless... and here he scrambled towards the window and vomited, because it was a frightful and heinous thing, possibly blasphemous as well. But he could not banish it from his mind. The wizards could not have been behind the sickness that took his siblings would they? They could not have been the ones that condemned the people would they? They were under the Tsarina, and why would she ever do such a thing to her own people?