The atmosphere was tense in the open carriage. Despite the soft and gentle breeze rolling constant across the plain, the air hung heavy over the travelers. Ramun's dissatisfaction was palpable, and despite Lyre's best efforts to improve his mood, he was adamant that they shouldn't be acting without a plan.

"Elion's in the wind," she said, her voice not far above a whisper, "Buck said it himself that we mustn't try to contact him. All we have to go on is a baseless rumor and the word of Mistress Hen. What more do you think we could have discerned from journeying back to the capital..?"

"Mindlessly following Mistress Hen's lead is one thing, but why did you have to invite trouble along for the ride? If I'd known when you brought this to me that Cuttle would be among our number, I'd sooner have handed this task to another."

"Ramun. Are you still put out that Merit Janney taught Cuttle to windtalk?" asked Lyre, "You know full well why she refused you." 

"You think Cuttle would be less likely to exploit it?"

"But Cuttle cannot make dolls. You each of you have a skill the other covets. You know, if you worked together, you could both reap the benefits."

"You're forgetting," chided Ramun, "That covetable skill is wrapped in his unbearable personality."

On the backseat, Mistress Hen's patience had been tested to its limit.

"I haven't even known yet," Cuttle bemoaned, "What it is to really master one's art! Should the world meet its end without my reaching the peak of it, can it really be fair to those deprived of the chance to see my 'Divine'? It is the role I was born to play!"

"Master Cuttle... I have no doubt you are a talented actor, but you need not worry until the answers are laid ahead of us. We are doing now what must be done; there is no sense in thinking the worst."

"Fiepet Strahl, in point of fact, has yet to see the role as it should really be perceived. Even he has failed to witness the full scope of my abilities, leaving as he did before the second act. There was a moment too in the first, when I made my third speech, a certain pause where, ah I'll just-"

"No!" cried Hen, "I mean, there's no need to recite another of your charming monologues. From what I've heard already you are strong in voice and feeling."

"I am, aren't I?" Cuttle confirmed.

The carriage rattled on past the eastern woods of the Witling Forest; and at last, a decision needed to be made. Hen, fearing her theory would be proven false, dared not suggest they continue on without first investigating the rumor of the Witling Woman. Abandoning their transport when the foliage became too dense, they went on foot to the forest village where the woman made her home.

"Is this really the way to go?" asked Cuttle.

"Ramun has been here there before," said Lyre, "He has... an uncle, that once invited him to stay."

Cuttle rolled his eyes at the oddly familial title Lyre had assigned to one of Ramun's rutting partners. "It wasn't the location I was unsure about," he said, "But the method in which to get there. Have we no other means? No cloaks to ride? No magical beasts to carry us?! Mistress Hen and I are suffering on this difficult terrain."

"No, I'm fine!" cried Hen, rather put out that Cuttle spoke for the both of them, "I like to walk outside when I can. There's too much rushing back and forth in the palace."

"And why would we need to conjure a beast when you are with us?" asked Ramun.

"We rest our energy when we can," Lyre explained, "We still have a mission of Mistress Hen's to conquer once we're done here."

A reassuring smile and an enquiring brow, and Lyre was sufficiently convinced that Hen was fine. The awkward quartet moved at a fair speed, with only the occasional cry from Cuttle when his foot landed awkwardly amongst the underbrush. Following Ramun's lead along the narrow path, they eventually came to the secluded village.

Half the Madning Isle had apparently arrived before them.

"What's going on?!" demanded Ramun.

A crowd were standing around the makeshift village square, some investigating the hastily constructed market stalls of its inhabitants, and others resting on the ground after making the trek through the forest. An elderly man was sitting on a log not far from them, his restless dog settling back down as he realized the strangers were not there to greet him.

"And here comes more of you!" cried the man, "What? Did you think you'd be the first? After the tidings of the witch came whistling on the wind, a whole herd of looky-lous came to see if for themselves. I told the others but they wouldn't listen; you'll only find yourselves disappointed."

"Is the witch not here?" asked Hen.

"No reason why he would be," the man replied, "But it doesn't stop them creeping in from Jophis knows where thinking to find him here. Have you come far yourselves?"

"Never mind that!" said Lyre, "What of the Witling Woman?"

"There are those returning from her house in the north wilds muttering that she isn't there, and yet others continue to follow the same pointless path. I suppose should I tell you she's gone from the forest, you won't listen either; no one thinks to trust the words of others."

"She's gone?" asked Hen, her gentle tone and elegant nature a far cry from the disrespectful visitors the man had dealt with all afternoon.

"Aye," said the man. "Whether Carduella found the witch or not I couldn't tell you, but she left on foot four days ago. She stopped at Tyton's to buy some bramble leather and stony bark, and was off without a word to anyone."

"Are those magical items that could be used to travel to another world?" Hen asked Lyre.

"Just something to snack on," Lyre replied disappointingly.

"I think she always feared the Protectorate would return," the man explained, "Whatever business she has outside the forest, she always keeps it to herself. Safer that way I suppose."

"You mean I've made runs in my stockings for nothing?" cried Cuttle, "All these bloody branches Ramun had us tangle with and the woman isn't even home."

"So what's next?" asked Lyre, "Back to the carriage and onwards to find the younger Strahl?"

"Let Cuttle try finding her first," suggested Ramun, "See if we can't make use of his inability to shut up."

In the eastern woods, the Warlock had no need to traipse through the forest. A signal through the water to his man in the north wilds, and the information was gathered for him.

"She is not at home Master, and has been gone from the forest for some days. No unknown faces have come or gone, and the waters have stayed quiet. All I can attest to, is that since making you the finding charm, the Witling Woman did not hang about; she left here almost immediately."

"She made you a charm?" asked Elion, "To find the witch? Perhaps she knew it wouldn't work and ran soon as taking your money."

The Warlock shot him a withering look, and Elion closed his mouth.

"The forest is overrun with travelers looking to find the woman or the witch," continued the Warlock's agent, "But neither have been seen."

The man was dismissed with the closing of the portal, and Elion dared to fill the silence.

"A curious thing, that she should have made you a charm to find the Divine, and then disappeared almost all at once. If her magic is true, it may not be that she suspected failure, but that she was hoarding the victory for herself. If a deal was struck with the Protector's son..."

"The Witling Woman despised the Protectorate," said the Warlock.

"Did she?" asked Elion, "Think about it, she survived the fall of King Vireo and the outlaw of magic; not everyone who practised was lucky enough to make it through the reign of the Protector unscathed. And it's awfully suspicious that she happened to disappear while this rumor flies freely."

"What's suspicious," the Warlock pointed out, "Is that I happened to meet you on the road to Relmund. Let me remind you, for each of your theories proved incorrect, you'll be punished accordingly."

"So what now? Do you have something of hers you can set in a circle and determine where she is?"

"The Witling Woman has power beyond the tricks she taught us," said the Warlock, "She cannot be found so easily."

In the forest village, Cuttle and the others were discovering just that.

"Try it again!" demanded Ramun, "What's the use of windtalking when it won't answer back?!"

"What more do you want me to say?" asked Cuttle, "I spoke her name and nothing happened. She's probably covered her tracks, it wouldn't be the first time someone hid themselves from the wind."

"You could always try speaking 'The Maddening Witch' into the wind," suggested Lyre, "Since they're said to be together."

Cuttle and Hen exchanged a look.

"If the Witling Woman's hidden herself, do you really think the witch wouldn't have thought to do the same?" asked Ramun, "Her abilities pale compared to his."

"Then back to finding Delphin Strahl," said Lyre, "We've wasted too much time in the forest."

Ramun appeared too deep in thought to answer her, and unwilling to revert to the original plan without first considering the alternatives.

"We should have continued west," Cuttle began, "We were already on our way to find... the younger Strahl. And now we've taken this futile diversion, the elder Strahl might well be out ahead of us! I would never have come if I hadn't thought it a chance to see Fiepet Strahl again. I mean... to properly thank him for his assistance at the theater."

"And Fiepet would be with the Counsel..." mused Ramun.

"As you know," said Lyre, "Which is why I'm not all that keen on running into them. So we should go, yes? And carry on with Mistress Hen's lead."

"Carry on for all you like," said Ramun, "But I think it's better we've eyes on the Counsel's movements. I can't imagine he'd have the same protections against finding magic. Cuttle, can you locate him?"

His thumb to his nose and his pointer to the air, Cuttle whispered the Counsel's name into the wind.

"Fuck!" he cried, "They're already to the west of us. Do you see?" he said, striding back down the path towards the carriage with purpose, "Hurry! We're much too late!"

Hen curtsied neatly to the man and his dog and rushed off to follow.

"You're not really intending to go after the Counsel, are you?" Lyre asked Ramun with an expectant smile, "It's dangerous to get too close."

"For you, perhaps," he replied, "But not for me."

"Ramun! We're supposed to be in this together."

"Then start considering my opinions," he told her, "Instead of blindly following those of people you've only just met. I know the Innate took Mistress Hen as their spy, but their network is fallible. The rumors are flying that the witch has made his return, and yet, we're what? Stopping the Warlock from destroying the world? If the witch has come back he's no reason to. All of this... it's madness."

"Can't we be mad a little while longer, and see if there's truth in it first?" asked Lyre, "I'll owe you a favor."

"It's lucky we're heading in the same direction," said Ramun, "For now at least."

The four were faster on their return, despite the influx of curious pilgrims making their way to the forest village; Ramun created a boar to clear their path. When they got to the carriage, Cuttle climbed in and motioned for Hen to take the seat beside him. Lyre was beginning to wish for both her sake and Ramun's that she hadn't agreed to bring him along.

It was dark by the time they reached the edge of the western woods.

"Wait," said Cuttle. Having woken up from a peaceful nap, he tried the Counsel's name and found he'd traveled south from the forest.

"And Delphin Strahl?" asked Lyre.

"Try it again... as before," whispered Hen.

Almost imperceptibly, Cuttle spoke the name of the Maddening Witch, "The Counsel and Fiepet Strahl are to the south... but Delphin Strahl appears to be due west."

"I'm sorry," Ramun told Lyre, "But this is where I override your decision."

"Fine," said Lyre, leaping down from the carriage before it moved again, "Continue south if you must, but I intend to finish what we started."

She reached a hand to Mistress Hen.

"I will join you," said Hen, readily accepting it, "The Counsel may fail to recognize me as a member of his staff, but I'd as soon not run into him out here. Not before we've gotten to the bottom of things."

Cuttle was torn. He disliked Ramun, but was eager to reunite with Fiepet Strahl.

"I'll catch up to you both in a while," he told the women, "Do not fear getting lost, I know how best to find you."

Ramun had not the patience to argue. As the two men left in the carriage, Hen and Lyre continued west on foot.

"Are you sure you like walking so much?" Lyre asked, "Even in the dark, in the middle of nowhere?"

A strange laugh came from the space beside her. Until she heard her speak, she was not wholly convinced that the noise had come from Hen.

"There's something amusing in its aburdity," giggled Hen, "I should be running errands in the palace before bed, and yet here I am... walking in the dark, in the middle of nowhere, with a woman I've only just met."

"Alone like this," said Lyre, "It feels as though I ought to hold your hand, should Maphis try and snatch you away under cover of night."

"Oh! And why would she do that?" asked Hen.

"The goddess would surely grow jealous of your beauty in the moonlight."

"Not mine," said Hen, taking hold of Lyre's hand and pointing out a celestial figure in the distance; "But maybe theirs..."