Back at the Falls

His thick-soled boots sounded against the cold stones of the floor as he left the central hall. The Bartlett Falls council had connections to wide-ranging sources, through trade and recreation popularity. As such they were annoyingly well-informed. There had been no point in pretending any aspect of his story, and the disappointment from his father especially had been palpable. So Jaen, concealing his mood as best as he could, had listened to the advice given, and left the chambers as soon as was respectably possible. His mind racing with potential next steps, he went to find his companions.

As seemed to be the case lately, the meeting with his parents (the damned council included) had not gone to plan. Jaen had counted that at very least his failure at Norton Brook wouldn't affect too poorly his status at home. This was not to be the case, and while he could see the fortune he did yet have, his parents' judgment still seemed a punishment. Others on the council had questioned the wisdom of his decisions, but it was his parents that offered this new course of action. It would perhaps benefit him, they said, to spend some time with his uncle on the mountain. Jaen had been to the alpine townships before, but only as a youth. His woodland training had been mostly solitary, and while it had taught him many things about survival, the management of a community was altogether different. It was his parents' regret that they had done less to prepare him for this vision of himself, and their contention that time spent in the mountain townships with his uncle would be of help.

Jaen's uncle Grive was known as one of the most amiable yet hardy and capable premirs of the Skyline. He oversaw a rambling township that encompassed two small summits on the Lincoln mountain. Mostly a rural community, though he traded time and dealings with hermits and city visitors alike. The north side of his locale bordered on a developed side of the mountain, and even featured a raised marketplace with easy landing for air travelers. Grive was known as a busy yet peaceful man; he was never seen to stop moving unless maybe in those times when everyone said he was at the other end of town. He commanded respect through his fierce appearance, but those who knew him felt safest when he was in the room. In short, he was the unconscious model of who Jaen wanted to be, who currently seemed to be engendering the opposite effects on people around. The young Bartlett knew all this, and yet resented the wisdom of the suggestion.

---

Leb had been relaxing on a stone balcony when Sutton returned. His senses relaxing in the safety of the Falls Estate, the tall bodyguard looked weary. Leb welcomed him and indicated a nearby seat.

Sutton gave a soft groan when he sat down. “Well, that was a folly of a trip.”

“Maybe not entirely,” replied Leb, “our young master may have learned something about his limits.”

Sutton grinned grimly. “One can only hope. What do you think the council will have to say to him?”

“I don't know, but I suspect it will lead him away from the falls again. Will you go with him if he takes off on another journey of self-discovery?”

Sutton sighed again. “I feel that in some way it's my calling. This place has been quite good to me, and if I can give back by helping its wayward son... at least I'll feel as if I've done something; given back the energy that this place gave me. My life has been full, but this is an equilibrium for me.”

Leb looked at him thoughtfully. “That's a nice sentiment my friend. I guess I've never much considered the exchange of energy in my life. I give to the world wherever I can, and I know I get back the same. Maybe in a couple more decades I'll have to make more of a review.”

“And what about you Leb? You have been Jaen's friend for longer than I; will you go with him this next time?”

Leb looked at the thick green of the trees above them and shook his head. “I would follow Jaen anywhere he willed, but not right now. I have family here to look after; responsibilities in my own life that cannot be neglected now. I know he'll be alright though. He'll figure out who he is and where he really belongs. I know Jaen has the spirit of his forefathers, even if he doesn't trust that it's there.

Sunset Reflections

 Ayleah winced as she shifted her weight to get more comfortable on the rocky ground. She had only her blind luck to thank that the wound was not too deep. The thief had come face to face with her suddenly around the side of the taxi, and his blade hadn't been very long. Jaen had done a good job on the bandage. It would need changing before they left in the morning, but for now it felt comforting. All three of them had done so well in the crisis. She hoped she wasn't, in the end, a burden for them. Her own survival abilities gave her some confidence, but she was also grateful that her newfound companions seemed so much more experienced in the ways of adventure.

Even Jaen, who had been sullenly reflective most of the day, had broken his quiet immediately upon sensing a threat. He had seen the robbers first, and though Leb did most of the actual fighting, it was his call to action that had saved all four of them. Niisi had protected her once she was hurt, skillfully wounding the attacker so they could get away. Once in the taxi again, they had given her such wonderful care; soothing the shock of what had happened. It all seemed a bad dream now to Ayleah as she sat a short distance away from camp, watching the sunset.

They had stopped at the side of the road for lunch when the two robbers attacked. The spot must have been near an unsavory sort of city, but they had chosen it for the grand view that lay before them. The road topped an open hill, giving a panorama of mountains to the east. The first range ran in a straight dark line from north to south, fronted with steep wooded cliffs and tumbles of massive boulders. The land had been shaped by water in ancient times, in turns liquid and frozen. From one spot a torrent must have once streamed out, cutting a deep gap in the line of mountains and leaving a pool of sediment just beyond. Upon the lip of this ancient terrace they now made camp. The view west looked back over the rolling landscape from which they had come. Ayleah gazed out and thought of the mountains she had seen when they were down there.

Now closer, the mountains seemed more wild. No longer green-blue shapes against the horizon, she could see the different trees that made up the cloaking forests. Here and there rock peeked out of the greenery, hinting that beneath all the life and growth and decay was a more primordial solidity. The gap where lay the small metropolis of Bristol was a narrow gateway into a different world. Ayleah had experienced forests and old wild places, but nothing like the depths of what she sensed beyond that mountain gate. The sun gleamed bright as it passed out from a wispy cloud, bringing her back to the present.

It was a gorgeous sunset tonight, though she supposed the location helped. In front of her, the ground sloped sharply away. They were atop a dusty cliff that marked the end of the sediment terrace. A little ways up slope the trees gave way to a vast open field on the edge of the metropolis. This narrow strip of trees between the metro recreational fields and the cliff edge provided a pleasant grove for resting. The four of them would be spending the night at a public campsite here and leave for Bartlett Falls in the morning. Leb wanted Ayleah to rest, and said they could make good time on the river road and be at the falls by midday. Ayleah liked the campsite well enough. It was dry and sandy, but being in the trees near this steep edge felt a little like being back home. The shape of the land was similar, though there was no lake below the cliff. It did face west though; the sunsets at home had also been very pretty. She sighed and softened her gaze as she took in the colors of the setting sun. it was particularly rich tonight; a deep burnt orange predominated. The sun barely showed over the horizon, and likely had already set. The show was just a play of refraction, though a beautiful one. Small wispy clouds sailed here and there, almost invisible until caught by one of the colors. One became edged in a glowing fire, gilding the tender tuft. For a moment Ayleah was entranced by the depth of the orange glow, the color unimaginably pure in its representation.

As she fell asleep that night, Ayleah thought about the balance of the world; the day had held such frightening contrasts of emotion. That a day in a life could so casually include both the terror of the attack and the gratitude of friendship in equal and immense measure was incredible. The intentions of the robbers did not seem to belong to the same world as the beauty of the sunset's gleam. Her last thought was about that orange-gilded cloud, and how it seemed odd that she couldn't remember leaving that seat by the cliff.

"I remember when...

 

“I remember when the clifftop road went all the way out, right through and all the way past the Dennison farm.” Marly and Iben had gone to their rooms, and on the table the mostly-empty bottle of wine was the second of the night. A candle nearby was just beginning to outshine the sunset's fading light. The old-timer straightened a bit as he saw he had the other's attention.

“Course, that was back before the scholars came in-now, I won't deny that their, influence has been for the better. The town's thriving now like it never was in those days, and it's safer too around here.

But back then it was all one big township. The road connected all of us living on this side of the cliff. Sure, parts of it never got a great amount of use, seeing as business primarily went out to the water and back, even in those days. It was a kind of principle of the thing though, like a life-cord that bridged our community. Now there are five townships spread out over this land where there were only three before. The land is the same, it is us that have changed, and so the land has also changed.

“Back then we had a king. I will never fully know if we were better off for that or not. However a part of me is, nostalgic for that time. They were not from here either; our history is one of settlement and usur-pation.”

He paused, and gave a brief chuckle. “Even I and my family are not from here” he looked over at Davy, who was only half-listening. “We came down from the eastern hills when my grandfather was a small child. We've had this homestead just long enough now to be considered among the locals, I suppose.”

“Where were they from- the royal family?” the guest asked, casually sipping at his cup.

The old-timer shifted and looked askance to remember the fact. “I believe it was -originally- a branch of the old Malletts Crown lineage. They traveled inland and found the water here. It reminded them a bit of home, and perhaps a bit of one of their stories. Those are usually the reasons why people remain in new places. They settled on the western shores here, on the peninsula as well as on the Marshrock island to the north. I hear some villages on the island still follow the ways of the kingdom, but it is long since I went sailing out there.

“In this township they built their seat, as you probably saw on your way here. The throne palace is magnificent, even with the forest grown up around as it is now. On the small rocky hill where the lowlands meet the water they built a village. At first it was walled, you can still see evidence of that wall today. The woodlands around back then were frequented by bands of raiders and wild people with no culture for themselves. They persisted on stealing what they could from travelers and local villages. When the new village was established with its imported technology and modest wealth, it became a prime target for the raiders. It took years before people like my great-grandfather were able to make a living outside of that early small walled village.

“Even so, we on the clifftop have always been the secondary township. The peninsula already had a small settlement in the raiders' time, which just got subsumed by the new culture. That town still feels a bit that way. The raiders camps along the water have always been slightly dingier and more dangerous than the woodland; yet they are the primary draw of local commerce. The ports are essential and still provide us with a wealth of goods and opportunities.

“Back then the road ran all the way through though, and you didn't need to even crest the hill between here and the water if you wanted to travel to town. I remember when King St. was the main road up there. Now it's closed to most traffic; only tourists and the people who work for them really go through. The Swamp Harbor still has its character, tourists don't go down there except on accident. For how long though? The world is changing, even if no one else sees it. I like our new village center; I like that it has a quiet, friendly feel. But I also liked when I could go all the way up along the clifftop, through the Dennison farm and that weird gulf there. The road would gain the high ground again and the King St. sign would greet you as you entered the village. Since I made no turns to get there, I always felt like I lived on King St. too.”

The guest sitting at the table smiled and was about to speak when a cold breeze blew across the porch and fluttered the candle flame. The four of them grew suddenly silent and looked between the twilight and each other.

“The world is changing indeed.” the old-timer said, almost to himself. His look of concern and his son's as well were nothing compared to the inner thoughts of the guest, and he tried to hide them. Fortunately, an owl hooted somewhere nearby, with a mellowness that perfectly broke the tension. The night was normal and peaceful again.

Mia the Scientist

 

Mia found the tension of the world. It was a necessary component to keeping everything in place, since without any tension a contraption might reach a stasis and slowly fade from relevance. She wanted liveliness in the world, and for it to move in a way harmonious to its own flourishing. As it was, though beautiful, it had no aim beyond a constant business of the inhabitants. Life buzzed away in patterns of its own, not fully embracing the grand picture. Mia saw reality for its whole self, and knew it was underappreciated.

Too much tension would destroy the harmony of course. She had seen the effects of cataclysms on varying scales while studying in the wild. Over a threshold of tension, the forces could no longer hold harmony in place, leading to a sometimes violent dissolution of bonds. The only way for greater tension to maintain in a stable system was if its internal energy was channeled in flowing patterns. A cyclic flow would allow each bond to relax for a moment as the energy concentrated in the opposite bonds. The flow had to keep moving, but certain systems were so efficient at self-regulation that Mia rarely had to check in on them. Soon she knew the technique was ready to be used at a larger scale.

Larger systems in the world already had rudimentary energetic flow patterns, but Mia wanted to see if these could be enhanced. She did not think it proper to meddle directly with the energetic systems of other large consciousnesses, so she directed her efforts at herself.

One of the most important parts of understanding the system was to break it down into separate parts. A whole could always be thought of as a set of parts that one hopes work together in harmony. Once examined, it can be divided into those parts, and the set of parts may even change depending on the type of examination required. The parts and their relationship to each other can be better understood when viewed as parts of a whole that arises out of that relationship. Dynamic energy within the system can be balanced by allowing each part to shine in its purpose, while allowing the opposing parts to retreat and replenish. This flow also allowed the polarity of the parts to widen, leading to increased diversity within the system. Increased internal diversity led to more dynamic relationships between systems, which lead to revisions in internal dynamics. The cycle was self-sustaining as long as the system maintained healthy flow equilibrium and engaged with external relationships. In this way the system could not only manifest itself, but grow its potential. The external relationships, as long as they too remained harmonious, expanded the size of the entire system.

The humans seemed to know a bit about this, for they had created cities and metropolises that dotted the land. Their knowledge was incomplete though, because they did not have harmonious external relationships. They did not seem to, in large part, understand this concept of reciprocal harmonious growth. Instead they battered along, each attempting to shape the world for themselves, and only coming to harmony with each other or the land by chance of fate. The world could be better than this. Mia did not know if her schemes for influence would in the end be good for the world. She knew though that she had a unique perspective. Her body was one with the world, in a way it seemed no other living thing was. In fact, she did not really know if she could be considered living; she was a consciousness, but sustained herself on sunlight and rain, as well as sweet floral breezes. She did not eat or breathe as the animals or plants, and almost envied their limited perception and sensuous toil. Only almost though, because she was free. She only had to obsess over a place to go there, or over a thing to be in the place to see it. Time and space were only relevant in that they had meaning for the world for which she cared. Her plans for that world were surely better than anyone else's.

And so she began within, shaping herself to reflect what the world would become. She examined and shaped the parts of who she was, creating the harmonious cycle. It expanded to the vibrations of her skin; her outer bodily form glowed with newfound power. Once she settled in this new state, the patterns flowed out and around her, touching the dense thicket and tufty mosses that lay around. The world shivered, tantalized by this new energy pattern. As leaves and other small things adjusted, it slowly seeped in to the wider world beyond. Mia strolled through the land, her power growing now with focus.

Sutton

 

Sutton also spent the night in the woods east of the lake, though in more relative comfort than Jaen, being himself constantly prepared for the occasion. In the morning he made his way surreptitiously back into town, hood down this time, and mingled with the villagers. He quickly learned of the election mishap of the previous day, and of the rough expulsion of one Jaen Bartlett from the village. Once he knew that Jaen had escaped the town mostly intact, Sutton returned to the eastern shore to look for signs of his young charge's landing. Sure enough, he found the abandoned rowboat and campfire ring among the reeds, and from there, the trained tracker was easily able to follow Jaen's trail up the slope. When he reached the roadside where Jaen had sat, he examined the marks on the ground and paused, looking east. It could probably be assumed that from here Jaen had found transport back toward home, whether or not that was his destination. Having none himself save his own feet, Sutton knew he would not be able to catch up now. He would make his own way back to the falls, and perhaps would meet with Jaen there. Otherwise, the young Bartlett would have to continue to take care of himself (Leb, he assumed, was well on his own way home now, as he should be), and Sutton truly wished him well on whatever coming-of-age he had in store.

Sutton was of tough stock, born and trained in older, mountainous ways. His lithe form was a mirror to his mind; honed over many years for the skills and purposes that were required. With foundations in a truly wonderful childhood, he had left his home deep in the foothill vales to pursue strength. In his teenage years he joined an academy which was dedicated to the improvement of the self. The curriculum required service to often less-fortunate others in the most extreme mountain lands. For years he toiled and trained, bonding with his team, the mountains, and himself in the process. He learned the skills of survival, hard work, and true compassion, as well as how to defend his life and others' from the dangers of the world. He brought this understanding of life back down from the heights, intending to live a quieter existence now that he was nearing the middle of his life. Nevertheless he still wanted to use his abilities for service, and so he found the community of Bartlett's Falls. It was a stately township, storied and proud. No deep wilderness either; nearby cities and traffic along the river made for a wonderful diversity of bustling people, especially in summer. Sutton knew this was a place where he could have a positive influence on the world. He applied for a position with the town watch, and rose quickly to prominence. Friendships with the Bartletts and other members of the council solidified his place as a fixture of the community. Everybody knew the tall severe man as trustworthy and fair, if sometimes a little coldly so. His relationship to Jaen became that of an informal mentor. Jaen looked up to Sutton, though regularly refused to take his advice in the field. He seemed to view the older man as perhaps a better father figure than the actual father he had, and irrationally resented him a bit for that fact. Sutton, on his part, only wished Jaen would rise to his abilities, as he saw so much potential in the able-bodied lordly youth. Therefore he was always ready to assist Jaen even in his more foolish endeavors, knowing that wisdom can only come through a proliferation of experience.

Well-experienced himself in traveling the countryside, Sutton traveled easily back east. He made his way down a road out of the forest, and emerged in more open land. The hills around Norton Brook are an outlying clump of land, separated from the first range of mountains by sweeping valleys of farm fields and mysterious lowland meadows. Sutton followed a similar track to the others, also making their way back towards the higher hills. The first range of mountains stood as a line unbroken save in one spot. There the land dove down out of sight into the rocky dale of the river, and a terrace in front of the gap held a collection of small cities. Numerous buildings clustered together as a sort of countryside metropolis with multiple large market centers and a thriving cultural community all its own. The falls township lay beyond, a little ways back into the mountain rift, and has always had a good and close relationship with the metropolis. Sutton always enjoyed the view from these western fields east towards the mountain gap. He chose a spot for the night by a tree on an otherwise open hilltop. As the sun set he was comforted by the soft glow of the lights from the metropolis.

In the morning Sutton awoke to the sounds of birds calling and chirping, as well as a rustling sound that didn't seem to belong. Upright in an instant, he caught two ill-looking strangers rifling through his belongings. Judging quickly from their clothing and manner, he guessed that they were city folk from somewhere nearby. Clearly not upstanding citizens in their own home, one of the dirty ruffians saw he was awake and reached for a gun barely concealed in his waistband. However the short sword barely had time to flash in the morning sunlight before both thieves fell to the ground. Two quick strokes from where it had lain at his side, and it was done. A lithe crouch and a quick step was all it had taken. The bird sang its song again, trilling contentedly. Sutton sighed resignedly: breakfast would have to be on the road today. He packed up his bag and left the camp site as it was. Anyone coming across it would only find evidence of two people ever there.

On the Road Again

 

In the morning a newly-purchased transport left the town in a pleasant mood. It was an old local taxi, but the repulsars were in good condition and it trundled easily through the woodland with its few passengers. Leb sat in the driving seat, and in the back rode Ayleah, Niisi, and a pair of villagers who hadn't realized the cab was out of service. Leb had been very gracious with them and offered to take them around the lake, as their stop was on his way as well.

As the small company traversed above the northern shoreline of Norton Pond, they followed a road that slabbed slowly upward along the hillside. To the left rose an open forest of gentle hardwoods climbing beyond view. To the right however, the slope funneled down into a dark thicketed vale overtowered by tall pines. To Ayleah the sense of the place seemed more than visual. There was a pull to the obscured shoreline, quite a ways off through the dark trees. Though the cart moved along well enough and the pitch was not steep, the travel felt slightly difficult, like a drag of friction from their right. The pine needles covered more of the sun over there, but there was also a darkness about the place only detected by some sixth sense. Her training with Telon had sharpened this mysterious sense only a little, but the energy here felt so large and powerful that it was distracting even her.

Just as a small bit of fear crept in for that dark spring glen and the call it had, Ayleah remembered one of her lessons that previous year at the Sanctuary. It had been early on in the curriculum; a discussion about the duality of the world. The teacher had said we should not be afraid of the “darkness” because it is just as beautiful, and often more innocent than the “light”. The terms themselves were a polar construction imposed by reason onto what in reality was a beautiful swirling spectrum. Some places are very light, and others are very dark, but they meet in utter harmony and play with each other.

For it is certain that darkness is beautiful because it contains the most precious lights, and cradles them in velvety wonder. The darkness, when lit properly, has such incredible glamour, yet is often maligned and thus given to dis-appreciation and un-qualification. The light is equally beautiful, but it hides a secret for those who do not embrace both sides. It has always been the case that one cannot exist without the other- we only know light and dark because of their contrast and tension. Therefore if darkness is most beautiful due to the light it holds, then the inverse must also be true. The brightest light holds the most special darkness of all, and it too is plagued by the misfortunes that befall all darkness in a world biased towards the light.

We are not to blame, at least not in the direct way in which we blame. Life needs light, as a fact it looks to survival before perception. One can be blind to much of the world if overly-confident in sight. Life without care does not care for balance. It is up to us to move forward, and use perception to rediscover our care.

So Ayleah saw the darkness, and was afraid, but she acknowledged her feelings, and saw the darkness on its own terms. Then she felt secure, even held by its presence. She reached out to appreciate that place for the beauty it had, and it released her from its probing prejudice. Aside her in the transport, Niisi caught her eye and smiled.

“I'm glad you decided to come with us Ayleah. When we first met I thought you'd be a great addition to our crew.” From up front Leb gave a short laugh. “What 'crew' Niisi? We're just going back to the falls now. I have plenty of work at home that's been put off for this little excursion.”

“What Leb?” Niisi responded, “You've been the most supportive of this trip all along! I thought you actually wanted a bit more adventure in your life again.”

“Make no mistake, I did this for Jaen.” Leb's face was set, though he did not turn around. “We've always been such good friends, how could I say no? Plus, I figure whatever he and Sutton got up to won't work out for him too well. It'll be a good experience for him. I'm sure we'll all catch up in a few days back at the falls and see what he's learned.”

Niisi turned back to Ayleah. “What about you? Do you think you'll leave as soon as you can for the mountains?”

“I don't know...I'm still only hoping that I'll be able to find out where Telon was going. Once I do know though, I'll need to leave as soon as possible.”

“You really think something bad might have happened to him?” When they had met up again after Jaen and Sutton's departure from the group, Ayleah had divulged the real reason for her trip, and her concerns for the whereabouts of her scholarly mentor.

“There's just no reason the Sanctuary hadn't heard from him. He was supposed to return more than two weeks ago now, and I know that the head sages often receive messages from their mountain counterparts, so word would have been sent if the plans changed. But even though they seem concerned, they refuse to do anything concrete. I have to try and find out what happened myself. They have no excuse to stop me- classes aren't in session, and my mentor is missing. I can take care of myself well enough. Though,” she added, smiling back at Niisi, “I am glad I found some friends for at least a bit of the journey.”

Before long, they reached the top of the rise. The road led through a gentle saddle of land in the ridge that enclosed Norton Brook Reservoir. A smaller road marked by dual rock cairns turned off to the right and led back down toward the eastern shore. On one of the smaller rock piles they saw a familiar-looking figure. Jaen sat by the roadside looking the opposite of the bright sunlight that filtered though to the road junction. The dejection only grew when he saw who sat in the vehicle that drew closer. They stopped beside him as he stood, and he approached the driver's cab, opening his mouth to speak. Leb put up a hand to silence him and said: “In lieu of an apology to me, I suggest you make use of this time contemplating the lesson you may have learned here. Now get in, if you want. I only stopped anyway cause it was where these two were getting off.” he indicated the two villagers who had just unloaded from the old taxi. The two old friends connected, and Jaen climbed in beside Niisi. Leb steered the taxi back on course and they continued on their way under the placid sunlight, somehow glinting orange even through the high green canopy of the woods.

Jaen's Plot

 

A plan was discussed and plotted discreetly over the next two days. The village buzzed with excitement for the coming vote. One of the local (and most wealthy) merchants, a man named Din, was the favorite to win election. Not all cared to share a table with him, but there was general agreement that he had the influence and congeniality needed for the role.

On the dawn the poll was to open, business went as usual in the marketplace. Shop keepers opened their doors for the day, and traders trekked in from the woodlands with their goods. There was a quiet energy to the villagers' demeanors and conversation, and no-one noticed the tall hooded man standing casually to the side of the square.

As the bustle of the morning began to get underway, a messenger hurried directly across the square without stopping, and entered the township office with an envelope. The envelope contained the official ballot form that had been approved by a special electoral committee offsite. The form would be immediately copied and distributed to voters as they came in throughout the afternoon. Being a first for the town, the electoral process involved many local volunteers, and so the receiving clerk at the office did not question the identity of the tall messenger who delivered the form.

Two hours after the polls had opened, the buzz about the marketplace had changed from excitement to confusion, and an hour after that there was a downright uproar. Voters marched on the township office searching for answers, some visibly angry. Word had spread in the village center quickly as more people had cast their vote. Most were simply surprised to not see Din's name on the ballot, and wanted to know if anyone had heard a reason why. Those who had vocally supported Din's candidacy though suspected foul play, and assumed the culprits might be those closest to the electoral materials. The office was surrounded, and though the mob had no real cohesiveness, afternoon came with extreme tension.

It was only upon discovery of the original messenger that the mob gained a purpose. A young volunteer named Clade was found leaning against the hidden backside of a large tree near the edge of the village. He was only a bit dazed, but seemed to have suffered a blow to the head. By his account, he had been on his way to the township office that morning with the secure envelope when a tall cloaked person had wrestled him to this place and knocked him out. He hadn't seen what had happened to the envelope in the struggle, but was reassured when the townsfolk had told him the rest.

Sutton, in the intervening hours, had left the village entirely, and so the identity of the cloaked man remained a mystery. Jaen however, was relaxing under a pine overlooking the lake when they found him. He had been trying to take his mind off the proceedings, and not worry about the outcome of the vote. His and Sutton's plans to alter the ballot copy in his favor might not work to elect him, and that was fine. He would gain notoriety in the town from his name being so visible, and then he would run in the next election once he had spent some time with the people and proven himself here. Either way, the plan would-

-would work maybe, but he didn't get to finish that thought. A loud noise from his right turned his attention, and it became immediately clear he would not be spending any more time in this township.

To the office clerk's credit, she had remembered right away the upstart young gentleman who had come in a few days prior requesting to talk with the village council. She remembered he had left somewhat disgruntled, and had heard the council talking about how it seemed he had wanted them to elect him right then and there. Upon hearing this testimony, the louder members of the mob declared the fraud to in fact be the young stranger's fault. Indeed, there was general agreement among those present that no-one had heard of support for the stranger's name on the ballot. The polls were closed by popular demand, and the only thing left was to find this Jaen Bartlett.

That person in question was extremely lucky only one boat lay tied at the dock to which he led his pursuers. He was also lucky it was late enough in the afternoon that the townsfolk were contented enough with seeing him gone and did not seek to pursue him further. The loss of the stolen boat itself was deemed a reasonable price for ridding themselves of a potential nuisance and the owner was assured of reimbursement in any case. As he crossed the lake in haste, Jaen knew he could never set foot within eyesight of any of them again. He spent that night on the dark reedy shoreline, feeling humiliated for his efforts.

---

Back on the western shore, Ayleah watched the sunset. There was an easy path down from the old woman's house, through grassy tussocks to a rock on the water's edge. The land came more easily to the lake here than in the village center, and a hamlet of sorts clustered around a small grassy cove. The view across the water was broad enough to catch the evening light and, though she was facing east, Ayleah could see the orange and red glinting on subtle wavelets. On the far side, a campfire stirred, and she wondered at the surrounding population and the people living here. It felt good to be back in a rural town, but this place was again different from her home. The township stretched out and up into deep green forests; fertile rocky land that seemed to go on forever in its nooks and folds. In just the two days she had stayed with the old woman, she had learned a surprising amount about the use of local herbs. A different variety of plants grew here in the hills than she had studied before, and they had a variety of culinary and medicinal uses. Gaile was no lore-master, but knew enough about daily uses to be enlightening. She had extended a kind offer to Ayleah when the latter's efforts in the marketplace had been fruitless.

“I don't know that I recognize the name Battell, but it sounds like it's probably a surname, perhaps one from the mountains. What I can offer a poor traveler like yourself is a safe place to stay a few nights if you need, and I also have some pretty good maps of the region, if you'd like to take a look.”

Ayleah had gratefully accepted, and the maps had proven immensely useful. They gave her detail not shown on the limited ones she had from the Sanctuary about the foothill ranges. It seemed she was on a large island of hills a little distance separate from the main ranges. Niisi and Leb had suggested she accompany them to Bartlett Falls. They were sure someone there would be able to point her the right way, and the Falls lay at the absolute foot of the mountains as well.

Out over the placid lake the red escaped to the sky, turned purple, and fled to the west. The water darkened, and the township slept. They would remake the ballot, and vote again tomorrow.