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Staring up at Bwire over the powdered remains of the sacrificed Lion’s Eye Diamond, Fola felt panic briefly well within her breast.

“What do we do now?” she breathed.

“Don’t be foolish, girl!” Bwire snapped. “We find the goat, slice it open, and have done.”

“It’s a little way away,” she said. “And there was a goatherd. I’m sure he wouldn’t like–“

“Then we stop him, too!” Bwire spat upon her newly woven floormat and cursed. Fola couldn’t stifle a gasp as she stared up at him. For the first time she noticed his dirty clothing, the infected scabs and pale scars discoloring his bone-thin arms. There was something terribly wrong with this man. How could she have missed this?

Bwire suddenly stopped and looked at her with an arrested expression. “You said ‘it’s a little way away.’ You know where we may find this goatherd, don’t you?”

Fola turned away. Bwire’s hot hand latched around her right arm. Spinning the startled guildmage around, he hissed: “Take me to this goatherd, little girl!”

“No!” Fola jerked her arm away. “You will leave my hut and my village,” she commanded. “I will tell you nothing! You want the Prison for yourself, don’t you? This has nothing to do with Kenlo!”

Bwire’s hands clenched into tight fists as he stalked purposefully towards Fola. “Why should I care about your drab little town? And you? You are nothing but breath and bones. And, if you are not very careful, someone may steal your breath and leave your bones to bleach in the sun.”

Stumbling backwards, Fola prepared to defend herself. If the shaman had been normal, it would have been a simple matter, but she could still feel Bwire’s demented strength in her aching arm.

“Fola?” A voice called just outside the pelt hanging over the door. It was M’bari. “May I enter? I would like–“

Thrusting aside the zebraskin, Fola stepped into the heat and sunlight. “Yes, you may enter, M’bari. But not until this piece of desert dung leaves my home and Kenlo.” She turned again to the shaman, her icy voice echoing the cold of her eyes. “This warrior will escort you from Kenlo and two hills beyond. If you return here again, expect your bones to find a home beneath the grasses of the Ntatsu Plain.”

Bwire bowed ironically, then stalked past M’bari. The warrior cast a quick, quizzical look at Fola before hurrying after the departing shaman.

Fola walked back into the relative cool of her hut. Sorting swiftly through the treasures in the small trunk, Fola pulled out her mother’s Marble Diamond amulet. A thing of cool, clear beauty, the stone would help Fola find mana should she need it.

With the heavy stone settled on a leather thong around her neck, Fola knelt once more by her hearth. She must communicate with that goatherd–and soon! Fola knew how important every goat was to its master. Most herders barely managed to survive, and they often treated their goats better than family. Strange people, to be sure, but usually good-hearted. Fola prayed to the Mother of Winds that this one was typical of his kind.

How could she contact the herder? Fola did not wish to leave the village without her protection, but she must get the man a message. . . Ah! Now she had it. Whispering a quick spell of summoning, Fola allowed the mana to flow through her and out into the universe. After a short time, something snuffled at Fola’s door; when she pulled the zebraskin hanging aside, a creature like a heap of animate kindling shuffled in, nearly filling her hut. The brushwagg peered curiously up at Fola through the thick thatch of tiny twigs matted onto its forehead.

Fola bowed to the brushwagg; every creature was worthy of respect. “Please take a message to the goatherd west of here. Tell him that Fola, in Kenlo, must speak to him about one of his goats. The animal may be in terrible danger. He must come to me and bring his goats.”

For all their size, brushwaggs detested violence, but they generally enjoyed serving as messengers. The creature pawed once in understanding and backed carefully from her hut. It moved away to the west with a sound like sticks rubbing together.

Fola picked up a twig that had fallen on the floor. The brushwagg would go to the goatherd and paw out her message in the dust. With luck, she would have the Amber Prison before the dragon returned. And Kenlo would be saved!

[What else can Fola do for Kenlo?]
[How does the Brushwagg see its mission?]
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