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Without enough nanites to handle hygiene for him, John has to bathe in a cold river — a novel and unwelcome experience. He complains; Yazad tells him cheerfully that the Persians have indoor plumbing and heated water, but the northerners prefer the river. An hour later they pack the horses. Wyrm stays at the preserve with a hug and a third recitation of his sister's instructions, and the rest of them — John, Sefawynn, Ealstan — ride out toward Maelport.

Two hours in the saddle and John discovers what people did before microrobots existed to manage repetitive motion. He itches in places he cannot scratch; his teeth feel slimy; allergies he had forgotten about return. He'd like to file a complaint with the management.

He rides up beside Sefawynn to try to thaw her. *Can we go back to how we were?* he asks. *It wouldn't be appropriate, honored aelv,* she answers, and the new title is worse than the old skepticism. He pivots — asks her how she ever knew the wight following him was real. After a long silence she gives him the answer she has clearly never wanted to give. She was born with the Night Marks: three deep blue birthmarks on her back, the sign that Woden has chosen her — or, Ealstan notes from up front, cursed her. Nobody can actually *see* a wight; the rule, Sefawynn says, is that seeing one kills either the seer or the wight. What she has is shadow-sight at the edge of vision, larger shadows for stronger wights, almost always there. She lives in dread that one day she will turn her head too quickly and *meet* one. John has the grace to be horrified for her. He tries to tell her this means her gift is real and is told for the trouble that it only makes her failures as a skop more embarrassing.

He gives up and rides up beside Ealstan instead, asks the question that has been bothering him: why worship a god who treats you this way? The thegn explains it as patience under correction. The Weswarans are being punished for the war, for the death of Friag, and ultimately for accepting the skops' writing — which Logna is said to have stolen from Woden. Sefawynn is firm from behind that humanity should never have had writing at all; it was Friag's heritage. The conversation drifts to the Black Bear — slayer of gods, binder of monsters, king of men. At the battle of Badon, the Black Bear turned Fenris the Wolf against Friag and bound the curse of the land to his own soul. Ealstan's grandfather, who fought there, had believed for years afterwards that it was the end of the gods and the world. Now the Black Bear sits in his dark western forest, immortal, more frightened of his own spawn than of anything, while Woden sulks because it should have been Tiw who died and not Friag. John asks gamely where the first god came from. *Licked from a rock by a cow,* Ealstan says with a perfectly straight face. *It was a very special cow.*

He gives up on theology and tries to enjoy the ride. The land is beautiful in a pastoral way; through breaks in the trees the ocean churns and reminds him of Hordamen. These people are crushed between forest and sea, with an unloving god and a future-tech mobster set to break them. He should be riding the other way.

He spots a figure behind a large rock up the road. Ealstan tenses, then relaxes and shakes his head. They ride past, and the figure waits exactly long enough to be out of their sightline before stepping out and joining them — Thokk. Sefawynn jumps when she sees her; nobody else seems surprised. John finally cracks and asks Thokk directly what the hell is going on.

She admits the act. She is not a wicce, not a forest spirit, not a god in disguise. She is a regular old woman who got tired of being told regular old women do not travel alone, and noticed that other people will write the witch story onto her for free if she lets them. So she lets them. The act keeps the bandits and the curious off, on the condition that she travels alone. In a group, she explains, she is just an old woman again — for which the others should be grateful. He admits this is clever and asks if it works. *Sure,* she says. *Unless I'm in a group. Then I turn back into a regular old woman. I hope you appreciate what I'm giving up.* He grins. He likes her better in any case.

*Just don't expect me to get you out of the trap the bandits have set for you,* Thokk adds. *Bandits?* John says, and as he says it, sees figures moving in the trees to surround them. *Those ones,* Thokk confirms. *I did warn you. Twice.*