“Why did you really save me?" I asked pointedly.  "What’s in this for you, Trenwyn?  Why would you and your circle go out of your way to help me?  You don’t even know me.”

“I already told you.  I want to find out why the Seti wished you dead, but moreover I wanted to save you because it was the right thing to do.  Is that so hard for you to believe, my lady?”

“Yes,” I told him frankly. 

Trenwyn shrugged.  “Then perhaps you’d like to tell me why I helped you.”

I frowned at his remark and finished off my first piece of bread, cutting another and changing subjects.  “What happens if I go through with the renaming ceremony?  What will I do after that?”

“You’ll be free of the Seti and can return to your own world.”  Trenwyn’s expression was quizzical, as if he thought this the most natural conclusion in the world and couldn’t understand why I had not reached it myself.

“How would I get back?”

“I would take you, of course.  We’ll ride north and I’ll cross with you, you can go on with your life.  You didn’t think you had to stay here, did you?”  He was incredulous. 

I shrugged.  I really hadn’t thought much about it, but now I had the strangest feeling that I didn’t want to go back.  What if there was such a thing as a reverse fading with my essence rejecting Earth if they tried to take me back?  For the first time since I’d come here, that vague uneasy feeling I’d come to know back on Earth ebbed at the edge of my consciousness.  “Do most people from my world return?”

“Of course.  It is only under special circumstances that people choose—or are forced—to stay here.”

“Of those who survive the fading, how many stay here?”

Trenwyn’s eyebrows drew down.  “Too many if you ask me.  You’ll be lucky to be able to go back free.”

“But there are some who choose to stay?”

“Yes,” he allowed reluctantly, “a few.”

I had a choice of whether to stay in this strange new place or return if I survived the renaming.  Or if Navarre succeeded.  Of course my family would be worried sick, thinking me dead, but even so, I couldn’t get Navarre’s piercing eyes out of my mind and I resisted the urge to reach for the medallion around my neck.  Trenwyn still didn’t know of its existence.  

Even aside from Navarre, however, a part of me—a large part—jumped at the idea of staying here. Could it be that I belonged more to this place than Earth?  I couldn’t seem to shake the irrational feeling that I did.  “Once I return to my world could I ever reenter this one?”

Trenwyn almost choked on his mouthful of bread.  “Wolves, why would you want to do that?”

“Is it possible?” I repeated.

“Yes…if you could find a maj that would consent to such madness.”

Obviously Trenwyn would not.  I started on my third large piece of bread, turning over this new dilemma and what it might mean for me.  Maybe I could return to reassure my family and then come back here.  But I would have to find some other maj to help me.  “So what’s on the agenda today?”  I finished the bread and looked up at Trenwyn. 

If he was surprised by the change of tracks, he didn’t show it.  “If you still insist on waiting for the renaming, we could take a ride outside the village now that you aren’t marked.  There are some things I need to check on outside the village anyway.”

This was the most reasonable thing he’d said all day. 

“So what about names, Trenwyn?” I asked as we walked toward the stables.  “Do people here have last names?”  I remembered that Navarre had, but he was the only one who had introduced himself with anything more than one name.

Trenwyn nodded.  “Yes.  Here most people don’t use them because Rhir is so small.  There’s only one Meggie.”

“Are last names the same as true names?  Can someone control you if they have your real last name?”

Trenwyn shook his head.  “No.  Your last name is passed down to you.  It’s something you’re born with. Something you cannot change.  It has nothing to do with your real essence.  Even so,” he looked at me earnestly, “You shouldn’t go around giving out your real last name.  If a determined maj found it, they might be able to trace you in your world and find out your true name from those who know you there.”

“So, is anyone able to control you if you give them your true name?  Or only majai?”

“Only majai.” 

I was relieved at this.  “How does a maj control you?  What happens if more than one maj learns your true name?”  I was afraid that was what would happen with me.

Trenwyn looked thoughtful for a moment and then snapped his fingers suddenly.  “Ah.  I know how I can explain it.  Your true name, Ethereal, is like a box of candy.”

I shot him a doubtful look.  What was it with these strange analogies? 

“The box has a certain number of candies in it and the candy can be divvied out to an almost infinite number of people.  The more of it you give out, the less each individual has.  You can give your name to one maj and that maj will have total and complete power over you.”

I swallowed, thinking of creepy Leo pulling invisible strings and playing me like a puppet. 

“If, however, that maj shares your name with any other maj, it is as if he has given out some of the candy.  Now, in order to have total control, the two majai must be in agreement.  The more majai have your true name, the harder it is to control you because they must come to a consensus.  Otherwise, alone, they might be able to control some things, but you can resist and outsmart them.”

“So if they have your name, you hope they spread it out among them.”

Trenwyn’s frown suggested he disagreed.  “That would not be advisable.  Often, when an agent is spread too thin, the only thing that Seti majai can agree on is that that individual is no longer of use to any of them and they decide to terminate the agent.  You kill yourself at their will.”

“What about majai?  Can other majai control you if they find your true name?”

“Of course,” Trenwyn said dismissively.  “But it is not enough to find a true name.  You must be given it, usually by the bearer.”

“If that’s the case, Trenwyn, why is it dangerous for me to give out my real last name?  The Seti might be able to find my name but it wouldn’t be me giving it to them.”

“Not quite.  If you give your name to another person who is not a maj, it is also like giving the candy box away.  The person will not be able to disburse the candy, but they will have the box.  Then, if they pass this box on to a maj, he might be able to use it just as if you yourself had given it to him.  Therefore, if one of your friends back in your world gave your name—which you had previously given to them—to a Seti maj, it could be equivalent to you telling them yourself.  It doesn’t always work for reasons we don’t know, but sometimes it does.”

How bizarre.  I tried to think of all the possible ramifications of this, but couldn’t. 

We reached the stables where our horses were quickly readied for us, and we rode out of the village and through the north gates, starting up the dusty hill beyond.  The horses didn’t seem the least disturbed at the wolf trotting alongside. 

“What would happen if I killed the majai who knew my name?”

Trenwyn shot a suspicious glance my way.  “That would be impossible, my lady.  You couldn’t get close enough before they killed you.”

“What would happen, Trenwyn?  This is all new, and I’m trying to understand.  Just humor me for a second.”

“Going back to box of candy.”  He liked that candy box.  “If you kill one of the majai who knows your name, it is like the piece of candy is divided equally among all the other owners.  It is only if you kill all those who possess the candy that the power of your name will revert back to you.”

“Do you feel it when something like that happens?”

Trenwyn shrugged.  “I don’t know.  I’ve never heard of it happening.  Most times, if the situation is dire like yours, and if they can, people undergo renaming.  If it is less dire, some just choose to live with it.”

“And do other majai take agents and use people’s names against them, or only the Seti?”

“It depends.  The Seti are most notorious for it, but some of the others do as well.  It depends on the individual who gives their name, it depends on the maj.  Sometimes a maj will not want your true name but, if you give it, they have that burden and that control over you.”

I shuddered remembering how close I’d been to giving Trenwyn that power over me.  Thank goodness he’d stopped me.  Maybe he was telling the truth about merely wanting to help me.  “How many different kinds of majai are there?  Besides the Seti and Duri?” 

“There are six in total, the others are Kyristi, Omri, Navri, and Laesi.”

“What’s the difference?”  I was fascinated. 

“Essentially what sets the circles apart is the scope of their power.  The Seti, for example, wear black rings, are represented by the color black, and their power extends to darkness and manipulation.  The Duri wear amber rings and we can speak with and control animals.”

“Wait.  You mean not all majai have the same powers?”  This was not what I’d expected.

“Naturally.”  I did not find this natural, but apparently I was wrong.  “The Seti can bring in shadows, cause them to move, snuff out candles, bring darkness to a room, and they are particularly deft at seeing through the tangled webs of politics.  Duri cannot manipulate darkness any more than you can.  But I can certainly ask this owl who she’s seen on the roads the past few nights.” 

I didn’t see any owl, and raised a doubtful eyebrow, until Trenwyn pulled his horse to a halt.  He held out a hand and I heard the rush of feathers from a tree above.  The gray owl alighted on his arm, turning her head this way and that for a moment before her large black eyes focused on Trenwyn.  There was silence, but the bird cocked her head to the side a little, then ruffled her feathers.  Another moment, and she took flight once more, returning to the tree she’d been perched in.  Trenwyn gave me the hint of a smile before his horse started forward again.  Had he really just had a conversation with an owl?  Incredible! 

“She hasn’t seen any Seti lately, you’ll be relieved to hear,” Trenwyn announced.