Change of Face
by Wordgazer

	It was a cool evening in early summer.  The farm woman took her pastry 
from the baking stones to set it on the windowsill.  She was a plump, hardy
woman, still attractive in middle age, with soft, graying brown hair pinned in
braids to the back of her head.  She glanced out the window at her cow, calf and
chickens, which were healthy and well-fed, though her fences and barn were in
some disrepair.  Retrieving the second pastry, she turned back to the window.  
And gasped to see a strange . . . man? . . . looking in at her. 
	Slender he was, and dark, with huge, tawny eyes that seemed to stare 
right into her mind.  A broad-brimmed hat was pulled low as if to conceal large,
upswept ears like wings, which yet stood out on either side of it.  A soft shirt,
worn open in the front, tall boots, and a black cloak from which the hilt of a
long sword protruded:  these were not out of the ordinary, though not usually 
seen on a traveling farm laborer such as she was used to encountering.  A young
lord, perhaps, fallen on hard times and seeking a place as a hired sword?  But 
no, surely he was from nowhere she had ever heard of, with those eyes and ears, 
that long, flowing black hair.  Her heart went out to him at the gentle smile 
he gave her from a face haunted by years of trouble.  Surely he was too young 
for his eyes to be so weary? 
	A voice spoke -- not the dark one’s, but from below the level of the 
window.  She peered over the edge to see a small, very old man, with eyes and 
ears like the other’s, also wearing a hat and cloak but carrying a long staff 
instead of a sword.  He grinned cheerfully at her.  “Sorry if we startled you, 
Madam, but your food smelled so appetizing, we, uh, could hardly stay away.” 
	She stared at him.  “I know what you are!  I know the old stories --” 
	The old one coughed deprecatingly.  “Be that as it may, Madam --” 
	“Oh, I’m forgetting my manners.  Please come in, sors, and refresh
yourselves.”  Her smile was warm as she opened the door. 

	Ekuar and Rayek sat at the woman’s table, enjoying one of the meat 
pastries she had set in the window earlier.  She came in from her cool room with
cups of fresh milk and set one down in front of each of them.  “My thanks, 
Madam,” said Rayek softly.  “Is there anything we can do to repay you?” 
	“You are welcome to it!” she replied, sitting down.  “Call me Merra.  
It’s lonely so far from town, and long since I have had guests.  And such guests
 -- walking out of the old tales to sit in my kitchen!  Are you traveling 
anywhere in particular?” 
	“No,” said Rayek shortly, looking at the table.  Merra glanced question-
ingly at Ekuar. 
	“Please excuse my friend,” said Ekuar.  “He, uh, doesn’t like to talk
about himself.  We are simply looking for a place to rest awhile in exchange for
guard work or any other little service we could perform . . . .” 
	“Well, as a matter of fact,” she said, with an eager, questioning smile
that made her look younger than her years, “my man died some years ago, and I 
often hire traveling workers.  Planting is done, and harvest time is not here 
yet, but my fences and barn are more than I can keep in repair on my own.  I 
know you’re probably not used to such labor --” 
	“Oh, I think we could manage,” said Ekuar, with a sly smile at Rayek,
who frowned at him. 
	“But your years, sor, and, um, condition, should earn you freedom from 
work --” her eyes passed from his wooden leg, sticking out from under the table, 
to his one hand with its three fingers. 
	“Call me Ekuar.  My friend here is Rayek.  And I may be missing a few 
pieces of myself--” he chuckled-- “but I’m neither too old nor too infirm to do 
a day’s work.” 
	“I’ll give you my son’s old room, your meals and the usual wages,” she 
said. 
	Ekuar looked at Rayek, who shook himself out of his brooding silence and 
smiled at Merra.  “Done,” he said. 
	“Splendid!” She seemed truly delighted.  “I’ll show you the room.” 

	At mid-morning the next day, Rayek and Ekuar were in the barnyard.  Ekuar 
had gathered a pile of small rocks and was shaping them into short, thin spikes.  
Rayek, stripped to the waist, was splitting wood for the stove.  Ekuar pushed a 
loose fence rail against its post, then used his magic to guide a spike in to 
hold it firm.  He glanced over his shoulder at Rayek.  “Peaceful here, isn’t it?  
She’s not giving you much trouble today?” 
	Rayek drove the ax into a piece of firewood.  “I find -- uh!-- there is 
a certain -- uh!-- peace that comes with physical labor.”  He stopped and wiped 
his forehead.  “But even taking that into account, she is too quiet.  I think 
she’s up to something.” 
	“You worry too much, Brownskin,” said Ekuar.  “You should just enjoy it.”  
He moved to where a fence rail lay on the ground.  “Kindly help me lift this one.” 
	Rayek stepped closer.  He lifted his hand, and the rail rose and moved 
into position between the posts.  Ekuar quickly drove in the spikes.  “Thank you, 
son.” 
	They heard an intake of breath behind them and turned.  Merra was 
standing there, her mouth open.  Beside her stood a slender young woman with 
flowing brown hair, wide green eyes, a firm chin, and a basket on one arm.  
Her face wore a similar expression to Merra’s. 
	“You do have magic powers!” said Merra.  “I thought you might.” 
	Rayek looked at her seriously.  “I would appreciate it if you and your 
-- friend? -- would tell no one else.  We prefer to avoid . . . complications.” 
	The young woman eyed him warily.  “I didn‘t want to believe it, but 
obviously you are who Merra said you were.  I hope you don’t mind my asking what 
you want with my friend?  No one has seen your kind in generations.  You can‘t 
have come just to help her with her fence.” 
	Ekuar gave her a disarming smile.  “There is nothing we want, young 
lady, but a chance for a little rest and quiet.  We have been traveling a 
very long time.”  He winked at her.  “And even our ‘kind’ need to eat.  Merra 
is paying us the usual wages.” 
	She looked hard at him, then relaxed, returning his smile.  “Forgive my 
sounding so suspicious, but you can’t be too careful, especially around here.” 
	“Thanks for watching out for me, Ketti,” said Merra.  “But I really am
in no danger from these two.” 
	“All right, Merra,” said Ketti.  “All the same, I’m glad I needed to buy 
eggs today.  I’ll be back another day to see how you are doing.  I hope your 
guests will still be here.”  She tossed her head, gazed at the shirtless Rayek 
with unabashed appreciation.   “They are definitely worth seeing!” 
	Within himself Rayek heard mocking laughter.  **Another conquest, 
brother of my soul?** Winnowill sent sweetly. 
	“Be quiet!” muttered Rayek. 
	Ketti stared at him, then bristled.  “Look, I don’t care who you are.  
You need to learn some manners.” 
	“Ketti!” pleaded Merra.  “I’m sure Rayek didn’t mean --” 
	“My apologies,” said Rayek.  “I was not actually addressing you, miss.”  
His eyes were soft as they met hers. 
	“Please -- Ketti, is it?” said Ekuar.  He hobbled closer and gave her a 
frank, friendly grin.  “My friend may act oddly at times, but he has his reasons 
for it.” 
	Ketti considered.  “All right.  I suppose you have a right to oddities.  
And you have made the morning most . . . interesting.” She gave Rayek a 
brilliant smile. 
	But Rayek merely nodded courteously to her and said, “Thank you, miss.  
If you will please excuse me, now.”  He returned to the woodpile and picked up 
the ax. 
	“Yes, well, I must be getting back,” Ketti said.  “Thank you for the 
eggs, Merra.”  She smiled and winked at Ekuar as she left.  “With this one and 
his stone conjury, your fence will never fall down again!” 
	“Oh, my,” said Ekuar.  “Just doing what I can to help, lovely miss.” 
	Ketti was gone.  Merra glanced over at Rayek and spoke to Ekuar in a 
low voice.  “She likes him, and he is not indifferent to her.  Why doesn’t 
he --?” 
	“Oh, Merra, he dares not,” said Ekuar.  “Terrible things happen when he 
returns such feelings.” 

	More than a week passed.  Rayek and Ekuar finished the fence and 
started on the barn.  One evening Merra came into Rayek’s room as he sat 
looking out the window.  “May I have a word with you, Rayek?” 
	He smiled gently and nodded. 
	“Where’s your companion?” she asked. 
	“In the barn, admiring the new stone floor.” 
	Merra laughed.  “When I asked for your help, I never thought I would 
get it in such abundance!  My fence posts sunk in stone, the rails reinforced 
with stone . . . Ketti’s right.  It will never fall down.  And neither will 
the barn.” 
	“Nothing remains forever,” said Rayek quietly. 
	Merra sat down beside him.  “So they say.  But you sound as if you had 
experienced that personally.  May I ask you a question?” 
	“Ask.” 
	“You’re not as young as you look, are you?” 
	There was a pause.  Then Rayek replied, “Ekuar and I have been wander-
ing as yousee us now since the time of the fall of Grohmul Djun’s towers.” 
	“Ohhh.”  Merra’s expression was wondering, wistful.  “And here I was 
feeling as if you were a bit like the son I lost!” 
	His eyes held hers.  “I am honored that you would think of me that 
way.” 
	Then he seemed suddenly to withdraw from her.  He sat rigidly, hearing 
within himself contemptuous laughter.  **Rayek, my love, you really are 
amusing!  Will you sit here prattling with this foolish woman about adopting 
you, while her world is about to fall around her ears?** 
	“Winnowill!” cried Rayek.  “What have you done?”  He sent frantically 
to Ekuar as Merra repeated “Winnowill?” in bewilderment. 
	**Ekuar, is something happening out there?** 
	**Brownskin, I think you’d better come.** 
	Rayek grabbed his sword from where it hung on the door.  Merra gasped 
in admiration as he floated rapidly out of the room and down the stairs.  She 
ran after him, calling, “Rayek, what is it?  Is everything all right?” 
	Dusk had deepened the shadows in the yard.  Ekuar came skittering 
across to them from the barn.  “Do you see them?  There, and there,” he 
pointed.  Dark shapes of men were visible in small groups surrounding the 
farm. 
	“How many would you say?” asked Rayek softly. 
	“Perhaps two eights and four,” said Ekuar.  “You were right, son.  
She has been up to something.” 
	“Who is ‘she’?” asked Merra. 
	At the gate torchlight flared, and a man came boldly through.  The 
shadowy forms followed him, lighting torches of their own, until the entire 
company was in the barnyard.  Most of them had guns. 
	Merra caught in her breath sharply as the leader drew near.  He was 
a young, dark-haired man with a superior smile, dressed as a town magistrate 
or minor lord.  He looked mockingly at her as she stood there dumbly.  “We 
meet again . . . Mother.” 
	He gestured to two of his men.  “Relieve them of their weapons.”  
The men stepped forward, guns drawn. 
	“Please,” Merra murmured to Rayek and Ekuar, “I don’t want anyone 
hurt.”  As the men took Rayek’s sword and Ekuar’s staff, Merra drew herself 
up and looked the young man in the eye.  “Why have you come here?” 
	“Because you have something I want.  Or should I say someone?”  He 
glanced at Ekuar, then looked hard at Rayek.  “You -- you are the one I saw 
in my dream.  The one who has entrapped the gracious Lady Spirit against her 
will.” 
	Rayek looked stunned.  Merra said, “What are you talking about, 
Tristol?  These are simply my guests, who are helping me repair my fences 
and barn.” 
	Tristol chuckled harshly.  “Don’t pretend you don’t know about my 
gift, dear Mother.  It has been growing of late.  Now I can not only pick 
up some of the thoughts of others, but I can receive messages in my dreams.  
You raised me to believe in the Blessed Spirits, Mother.  How can you not 
believe one has spoken to me, when I knew that the dark one and his lackey 
would be here, now?”  He waved an arm at his men.  “Bear witness -- did I 
not tell you what you would see?” 
	“Yes, Tristol, we believe you,” said the man who had taken Rayek’s 
sword.  The others nodded assent. 
	Rayek spoke low to Merra.  “I thought you said he was --” 
	“Dead?” she whispered.  “No.  I only said I had lost him.” 
	Tristol spread his arms wide.  “The Lady is here -- within him!” 
he pointed at Rayek.  “He is immortal.  And she has promised to make me, 
and such of you as are worthy, like him.” 
	“Winnowill,” muttered Rayek.  “You cannot --” 
	**Make him immortal?** she sent cloyingly.  **Does it matter, 
soul’s brother?  What matters is what he believes.** 
	“How did you get into his dreams?” 
	**Oh, Rayek, he wanted me there so badly.  He cannot send, but he 
does have limited -- receiving -- abilities.  All I did was amuse myself a 
bit.  It has been tedious on this bit of dirt you are so interested in 
lately.** 
	“See?” cried Tristol.  “He communes with her even now!”  He drew a 
pistol, pointed it at Rayek.  “Let her do it.  Now!” 
	“Brownskin!” said Ekuar. 
	Rayek stared cooly at Tristol.  “You are trespassing here.  I 
suggest you take your men and go.” 
	Tristol smiled insolently, holstered his weapon.  “If that is what 
Mother wishes.” 
	“Please go,” said Merra. 
	Tristol started to turn away, then raised a finger in signal to 
one of his men.  “Look out!” cried Ekuar.  The man lifted his weapon and 
fired a single shot right at Rayek’s chest just as Rayek raised his mental 
shield.  The bullet bounced off, drawing a gasp of wonder from those 
watching. 
	In that instant they all saw a black shadow pour out of the shaken 
Rayek.  The air rang with silvery, menacing laughter.  Rayek shut his eyes, 
and as Ekuar put his hand on his shoulder, he pulled the shadow back into 
himself.  But not before a creeping black tendril had wrapped itself around 
Tristol and withdrawn. 	Merra cried out.  The men gaped.  Tristol put a hand 
to his head to touch a now-pointed ear, then looked down at his hands, which 
had but four fingers.  His form was as like Rayek’s as if he had been his 
brother. 
	“It is done!” he said.  “Now I am one of the Blessed Ones, and I 
shall live forever!” 
	“Oh, my,” said Ekuar.  “What are you up to now, my lady?” 
	Rayek passed a hand across his forehead.  “I wish she would tell 
me, my friend.” 
	“Tristol!” said Merra.  “Is everything you have achieved still not 
enough for you?  When will you be satisfied?” 
	“When humanity is made new, Mother, free at last of the limitations 
of the bodies they now have, free at last even from death!”  He frowned at her.  
“But you would not share my vision, Mother.  You do not even now.” 
	“You would perfect humanity by making us no longer human?” she 
whispered.  “No, Tristol, I cannot share that vision.” 
	“I can see I have left you too long to your own devices,” he 
snapped.  “This farm is no longer yours.” 
	“Tristol . . . .” 
	Everyone was watching the exchange between Tristol and Merra.  No 
one saw Ekuar quietly stoop and lay a finger on the ground. 
	Fingers of rock rose out of the soil and wrapped themselves around 
the arms of the guard whose gun was still covering Rayek.  Wrapped themselves 
around the gun before he could move, over his mouth before he could cry out.  
He let out a muffled squawk.  At the same time Rayek flung out a hand, and a
blast of power struck Tristol and the other men.  He and his men staggered 
backward; some fell. 
	But as he tried to follow it with a second blast, Rayek crumpled in 
pain. Hot knives were slicing every nerve.  Winnowill’s voice rang in  his 
mind:  **No, you don’t, my love!  We are going to cooperate with this 
ambitious human.** 
	“No . . . no,” ground out Rayek between clenched teeth. 
	As Ekuar bent to “stone” the remaining guards, Tristol strode 
forward, pushed Merra to the ground as she tried to pull his gun away, and 
struck Ekuar on the back of the head with the butt of the pistol.  Ekuar 
went down.  Tristol spoke savagely to Rayek.  “Stop fighting the Lady, or 
this old one dies!” 
	**That’s better,** whispered Winnowill as Rayek collapsed.  The 
guards had recovered themselves, all but the one encased in stone.  Rayek 
and Merra watched from the ground as the unconscious Ekuar was borne into 
the farmhouse.  Another of the men retrieved the ax from the woodpile and
broke the stone bonds with a few well-placed blows. 
	“Get up!” commanded Tristol.  The remaining guards hustled Rayek 
and Merra to the door of the storm cellar and thrust them inside.  
"Remember, now, no conjury, if you want to see your friend again!”  Tristol 
shut and locked the door. 
	Some time later, Rayek sat in the darkness on the earth floor of the 
storm cellar.  He could hear Merra rummaging around.  “Ah!” she said with 
satisfaction.  “Now just let me. . . .”  There was a moment’s more rustling,
a flare of brightness, and Merra turned towards him, a lighted candle in her 
hand.  “There are quite a few of these in that crate, and a bit of light will 
raise our spirits.” 
	She set the candle between them on the floor.  “I’m still feeling a bit 
shaky after what’s happened and what you’ve told me.  If I understand this 
right, the whole world was in terrible danger when Grohmul Djun killed this 
Winnowill.”  She sat down, took his hand in hers.  “You gave up everything to 
save us.  Thank you.” 
	He removed his hand, looked away, but not before she had seen a single 
tearform in the corner of his eye.  “I did not do it for this world.” 
	Merra said gently, “I don’t care why you did it.  The fact is you did.”  
There were places in his heart, she could see, where humans could not go.  She 
added briskly, “But now you don’t know why she . . . .reached out . . . to 
Tristol?  Why she changed him?” 
	He put his head in his hands.  “No!  She won’t talk to me now!” 
	“Rayek, I’m sorry --” 
	He looked up at her.  “I did not mean to be so -- brusque.  But it is 
not in my nature to wait, to do nothing like this.”  He laughed shortly.  “At 
one time I would have forgotten caution and blasted the wall of your house in 
to save my friend.” 	“They would have killed him before you could get to him.” 
	“No doubt you are right.  But we must save him, Merra!”  He clenched 
his fists. “There are many times when he is all that stands between me and 
insanity.” 
	She took a deep breath.  “They won’t kill him while they can use him to 
control you.  My son still has something he wants from this Lady Spirit.  I 
think he wants her to give others the immortality she gave him.” 
	Rayek shook his head.  “She cannot have made him immortal.  It is 
impossible for those who belong fully to this world.  She has merely changed his 
shape.” 
	“Be that as it may,” said Merra practically, “he believes he is immortal.  
He wants to believe it.” 
	“That is what she told me,” Rayek replied.  “But Winnowill cannot truly 
be interested  in making humans think they are immortal.  She must be trying to
escape from me, as always, but I wish I knew what she seeks to gain by doing 
this!” 
	Merra smiled at him.  “I think the best thing to do is for me to tell 
you all I can about Tristol.  Together we might be able to figure out what she 
wants with him.  In the meantime, your friend Ekuar is a lot tougher than he 
appears.  He may be able to escape in some way.” 
	“He is still unconscious,” said Rayek. 
	“How do you know that?” 
	“I know.”  He took a breath.  “But your plan is a worthy one.  For-
give me -- this cannot  be easy for you, either.” 
	“Well, then,” Merra began.  “It may help if you understand that this 
area was settled hundreds of years ago by people who had fled the collapse 
of Grohmul Djun’s city.  We revere the Blessed Spirits, the Hidden Ones who 
did not stay hidden, but arose to help Shuna of legend, who disappeared 
along with them when their purpose was accomplished.” 
	Rayek smiled wryly.  “That is not exactly why the ‘Hidden Ones’ 
came.” 
	“I know you must have your own side to the story,” she said, again 
with that eager, childlike look.  “I’d love to hear it sometime.” 
	“But Tristol --” he said. 
	“Yes, Tristol.  Well, with no nobles in the region, we, as farmers 
who owned our own land, were among the leaders of the community.  And then 
when Tristol was still quite young, he discovered he could sometimes receive 
others’ thoughts -- a gift that our traditions say is a power of the Blessed 
Ones.” 
	Rayek said nothing. 
	“And he was clever, and strong -- unusually so for one his age.  The 
villagers and farm dwellers began to look up to him as he reached manhood, 
even to depend on his leadership.  Is it any wonder he came to believe he was 
separate, above the rest of us, and that it was his job to take care of the 
village?” 
	A look of pain crossed Rayek’s face.  “Am I troubling you, Rayek?” she 
asked anxiously. 
	“No.  Go on.” 
	“He began to have grand schemes for the betterment of humanity.  He 
envisioned a world without poverty, without hunger, without crime.  By one 
means or another, he took over the mill, the clothier’s, the town council, 
and so on.  Now he owns almost everything in the village, and much of the 
farmland as well.  He has an elite guard, as you saw, who keep everyone 
quiet, in fear of him.  He decides what work everyone is to do, how much 
food each household receives, what the laws are, who lives and who dies.” 
	“Did no one try to stop him?” 
	“Some tried.  His father tried.  He said Tristol had to decide if
it mattered who was hurt by his mad rush for power.  When Tristol sent out 
his guard to arrest the dissidents, his father stood with them and was 
arrested, too.  Later, the prison they were thrown in burned to the ground.  
No one knew if Tristol ordered it or not, but he did not try to stop it.” 
	“Merra -- I am very sorry . . . .” 
	She blinked back the tears that had started.  “That was some years 
ago.  He has until now left me and this farm alone, though most villagers 
avoid me for fear of his anger.  Ketti does not.  She is the old innkeeper’s 
daughter and insists on buying supplies from me in spite of everything.  
He has not tried to stop her, I think, because he has always had an eye on
her, though she will have none of him.” 
	Rayek said slowly, “And now, it seems what he wants is immortality.” 
	“Yes,” said Merra.  “You heard him say it -- he wants humanity made 
new, free even from death.” 
	“And Winnowill is making him think she has given it to him,” said 
Rayek.  “I thought my having this talk with you would goad her into giving 
away her plan, but she is showing remarkable self-control.” 
	**Why, thank you, my love!  But it would spoil all the fun if you 
knew!** 
	Merra stared at Rayek.  “Did she say something just then?  There 
was a look on your face--” 
	“Nothing important,” said Rayek.  He rose and began to pace back 
and forth across the short length of the cellar.  Merra stood up and 
stretched.  Rayek turned to her suddenly.  “Merra--” 
	“Yes, Rayek?” she said gently. 
	For a moment a centuries-younger version of himself looked out of 
his troubled eyes.  “I am like Tristol.  More than you know.” 
	She took his hands in hers.  “No.  You are as he could have been.” 
	There was a silence.  Rayek gave a sigh, withdrew his hands, began 
to pace again.  Merra watched him silently.  When the candle guttered, she 
replaced it, then took a blanket from a chest and lay down.  After a while 
she fell asleep. 
	Rayek sank down onto a crate and stared at the door of the cellar, 
where he knew at least one fully armed guard awaited.  He attempted another 
lock-send to Ekuar.  This time he was conscious. 
	**Brownskin!  Where are you?** 
	**In the storm cellar, with Merra, under guard,** he replied.  **Are 
you well?** 
	**A headache.  They have put me in a metal cage, with two guards 
watching.  They took everything I could use as a weapon, even my false leg.** 
	Rayek raised an eyebrow.  **Apparently, we have finally met a human 
smart enough not to underestimate you,** he sent dryly. 
	**Ah, well,** Ekuar’s chuckle came through his lock-sending.  **It 
tends to make it easier when they think I’m a crippled old man.  But my 
actions in the barnyard disabused them of that notion!** 
	**Ekuar.  Merra has been telling me about Tristol.  His life, his 
goals . . . .** 
	**It has troubled you, Brownskin.  Why?** 
	**She might as well have been describing me.** 
	**But she wasn’t, my son.** 
	**No, she was not.**  Rayek sent his mentor an image of the 
Palace of the High Ones, disappearing into the atmosphere at the moment he 
had chosen not to save them because it would have wiped out all succeeding 
generations of Elves.  **But there have been times, when this path we walk 
has seemed too difficult to bear, that I have wished I could have saved the 
High Ones and left this world with them forever, whatever the consequences.  
Now I have seen in Tristol what I might have become had I made that choice.** 
	**I understand, Brownskin.** 
	Impatience returned to Rayek’s sending.  **But now what are we to 
do to stop Tristol, and Winnowill?** 
	**How can we stop them when we don’t know what we are trying to 
stop?  Has she given you any clues?** 
	**My guess is that she means to try to free herself somehow through 
Tristol. But she has told me nothing.  She seems to be enjoying my 
frustration!**  Rayek began to pace again. 
	**Listen, son.**  When Ekuar took that tone, neither Rayek nor 
anyone else disregarded him.  **Do you remember what I said to you when you 
and Cutter had just cleared the air between you?** 
	Rayek remembered.  Remembered resting in the troll caverns after 
Leetah had healed him from massive injuries inflicted by the Wolfrider 
chief in that “clearing of the air.” Ekuar had said,  “Brownskin, you have 
never shown yourself finer than in this moment.”  Indeed, the memory of 
those words, and of Leetah’s “You do know how to love, after all!” had 
sustained him through all of the terrible events which had followed. 
	Ekuar continued now, **You are able, like no one I have ever known, 
to subdue yourself to your own ends.  You don’t have to let frustration 
overwhelm you.  Force yourself to patience.  As you would not give in then 
for Cutter’s sake, do not give in now for Winnowill’s sake.  No doubt we 
will learn more in the morning.** 
	Rayek took a deep breath.  **Very well, then, old friend.  But if 
they try to harm you, I cannot answer for my actions!** 
	Rayek heard Ekuar’s soft mental laugh as the aged rock-shaper 
gently broke the lock-send.  Sinking down next to Merra, he lay and watched 
her peacefully sleeping until the candle went out, and he himself fell into 
a light doze. 

	He was roused by guards throwing open the doors of the cellar.  
Merra woke with a start as the guards pulled them roughly to their feet 
and hustled them across to the barn.  Tristol was there, his elfin features
in odd contrast to those of the men surrounding him.  They had removed the 
livestock from the barn.  Ekuar was in a thick wire cage such as was used 
to take animals to market, suspended above the stone floor by a rope which 
passed through a hook in the ceiling.  A guard with a sword stood in front 
of the bolt in the wall to which the rope was fastened. 
	Tristol smiled maliciously.  “Ah, here you are, Mother!  Did you 
sleep well?” 
	“As well as can be expected,” she told him with her chin high. 
	“Good,” said Tristol.  “Now you will witness the next step in the 
growth of mankind.”  He gestured to one of his men.  “Bring her.” 
	Rayek stiffened, and Merra let out a gasp, as two of the men 
brought in a pallet, on which, bound and gagged, lay Ketti.  They set the 
pallet on the floor under Ekuar’s cage.  “Oh, my!” murmured Ekuar from over 
their heads. 
	Tristol now stepped forward, stared at Rayek.  “You are holding the 
Blessed Lady against her will,” he said.  “She has graciously consented to 
become my consort, to bring about the transformation of the human race.” 
	“Your -- consort?” whispered Rayek.  Merra saw his hands tighten 
into fists. 
	“My consort,” said Tristol.  “The Lady will occupy the body of this
girl, which she will change as she changed my own body.  She and I, and 
such others as prove themselves worthy, will be the founders of the new 
immortals!” 
	The men cheered.  Merra stood with her mouth open.  Rayek muttered, 
“Winnowill!  Surely you cannot mean to do this!” 
	Her sending was spiteful.  **I will do as I please, beloved!  And 
you will not stop me this time.  Tristol, delicious soul, will see to that!** 
	Only Ekuar, looking down on the gathering, noticed Ketti’s hands 
twisting, working at her bonds.  He met her eyes and jerked his chin towards 
the rope that held up his cage.  She nodded. 
	Tristol drew his pistol, stepped close to Rayek.  His breath came 
into Rayek’s face.  “Release her, foul Spirit,” he growled. 
	Rayek only looked at him.  “No.” 
	“I think you will.”  Tristol’s face twisted in a smile.  “How many 
shots can your conjury bear?  Shall we see?” 
	Rayek raised a hand.  A finger of power reached out for Tristol’s 
gun.  Quick as thought, Tristol jumped out of the way and placed the pistol 
against Merra’s temple.  She let out a little cry. 
	“Can you shield her before I kill her, Spirit?” 
	“Your own mother?” Rayek stared at him. 
	“For the greater good, yes.  Do as I say, or she dies -- now!” 
	Rayek closed his eyes.  “Very well,” he said wearily. 
	“Rayek, no!” cried Merra. 
	But the black fog began once more to pour out of Rayek.  Tristol 
smiled in gratification as it approached Ketti’s pallet.  Ketti shrank back. 
	“Brownskin!” shouted Ekuar. 
	Rayek looked up at him, spoke loudly enough for Ketti to hear.  
“Peace, my friend.  It is not Ketti she wants.” 
	As he spoke, the fog suddenly changed course.  Like a snake it 
slithered towards Tristol.  He jumped backwards, away from Merra. 
	As soon as the gun was away from Merra’s head, Rayek, with a grunt
of effort, began to pull Winnowill’s spirit back towards himself.  But she
was too quick for him.  The fog poured into Tristol, overwhelming him.  Her 
silvery, mocking laughter rang through the air.  All at once the laughter 
was coming out of Tristol’s mouth. 
	“At last I am free of you, Rayek!” she said (or rather, Tristol 
said).  “Now I will rule these humans as long as it amuses me.  Then I 
will leave this body and go where I please!” 
	“Merra, forgive me,” said Rayek.  Merra’s eyes went wide.  A blast
of power flashed from Rayek like a thunderbolt and struck Tristol between 
the eyes.  At the same moment, Ketti rocketed up from her pallet, her hands 
free.  She grabbed the sword from Ekuar’s guard and slashed through the 
rope.  The cage dropped, bounced, bent inwards as it struck the stone floor.  
The guard jumped out of the way.  Ketti rolled against his legs and he fell.  
Ekuar’s finger reached between the wires, touched the floor, and the stone 
rippled up and over each of the guards, who cursed and struggled as their 
hands and guns were encased. 
	Tristol collapsed.  The black fog trickled out of him and was 
pulled once more into Rayek.  Winnowill’s voice cried “Noooo!” as the fog 
disappeared.  Rayek fell to his knees, his hands to his head. 
	Ketti retrieved the keys from Ekuar’s guard and unlocked the cage.  
Untying her gag, she watched as Ekuar, still without his false leg, crawled 
across to Rayek.  “Brownskin!  Are you --?” 
	“I will be fine, Ekuar,” said Rayek.  “She is contained again -- 
for now.” 
	“Did she tell you what she was going to do -- to take Tristol 
instead of Ketti?” 
	Rayek smiled grimly.  “After all these turns of the seasons, she 
didn’t have to.  I know her.”  He rose, lifting Ekuar, and floated over to 
Tristol’s recumbent form.  Merra was there, holding her son’s hand. 
	“He -- he’s dead, isn’t he?” she whispered. 
	Rayek looked down at the body, swallowed hard.  “I tried not to 
kill, but only to shake her free,” he said.  “But I think she had already 
consumed his soul.  I am sorry.” 
	Ketti came across to them, put her arms around Merra, helped her 
to rise.  Ekuar turned, spoke to Tristol’s men as they lay encased in stone.  
“Your leader is dead.  Your weapons are filled with stone and will not 
operate.  May I suggest you all find another kind of work? 
	The men looked at each other  “It was all a lie,” said one.  “There 
was no immortality.  The Lady Spirit meant only death from the beginning.” 
	Ketti fixed him with her gaze.  “Tristol was leading you all on a 
path of lies and death long before the Lady Spirit came.” 
	“Come, Brownskin.”  Ekuar put his arm around Rayek, leaned on him 
as they left the barn.  As they crossed the threshold, Ekuar bent to touch 
the floor, which thinned and pulled back from the men it held, restoring 
itself to smooth, unbroken stone.  The subdued men began to pull themselves 
together and leave.  Ketti supported the weeping Merra into the house. 
	A little later, having retrieved their belongings and restored 
Ekuar’s leg, Rayek and his mentor came into the kitchen.  Merra and Ketti 
were sitting at the table.  Merra rose as they approached.   “You are 
leaving,” she said. 
	Rayek’s quiet smile spoke untold sadness.  “It is best this way.” 
	“Yes, she said.  “However it happened, Tristol is dead.  They will 
say you murdered him.” 
	“Merra, I --” 
	She put a finger on his lips.  “No, Rayek.  As I told you, I lost him
 already, years ago.  He had no wife or children, so all he owned will pass 
to me.  At least I can begin to undo the wrongs he has done.” 
	Tears were in both their eyes.  He took her hands.  “Merra, I want 
to tell you this.  When I first began my journey, I cursed my misfortune 
that I must protect this world I loathed from the dark spirit I carry.  But 
the memories of humans -- people --- I have met continue to ease the burden.  
You will be one of those people.” 
	She smiled through her tears, then suddenly crushed him to her in 
a fierce hug.  “Goodbye, my son.” 
	“Oh, my,” said Ekuar.  “Farewell, lovely lady.  Our thanks to you 
for your hospitality.  And Ketti -- we owe you much.” 
	“We all did what we had to do,” Ketti said softly.  “Goodbye.” 
	Rayek could say nothing.  He laid a hand gently on Merra’s cheek, 
nodded to Ketti, then turned away. 
	Merra and Ketti stood at the door and watched them disappear over 
the horizon.