Delph woke once more to a pounding head, and a stranger at his side. With Lyre's skills and the traveling cloak to carry him, he'd nodded off before they'd even reached their home for the night.

"How did you know of this place?" asked Hen, collapsing into a comfortable chair by the fireplace.

"It came to my attention yesterday," Lyre replied, "When we visited the village."

Her hands resting on the arms of the chair, body slumped and energy depleted; Hen's eyes flicked open. "This is the Witling Woman's house..?" she asked.

"She isn't using it," Lyre reasoned, "And there isn't an inn any closer."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," said Delph, somewhat muffled by the fabric he was tangled in, "But could someone help me down from here?"

The cloak of travel was removed from his shoulders, and Delph settled down on the floor of the Witling Woman's house. Nestled amongst the trees in the north wilds, the little wooden house had been well kept, with a stone chimney, and a garden in front where herbs were grown in abundance. 

"We'll borrow her comforts for a while," said Lyre, "Master Strahl, why don't you take the bed and sleep the last of your headache away?"

The cozy patchwork quilt on the Witling Woman's bed looked inviting, but as the only man, he knew that Fiepet would not have approved had he taken it without putting up a fight.

"No, no,"  he said, still half asleep, "I couldn't possibly. I insist that it goes at least to one of you."

Hen shook her head at the prospect. They could not let the Divine sleep on the floor, and with Delph at the far side of the room, discussing the situation with Lyre would be easier.

"Pretty prize," said Lyre, "Unless you plan to take me there, I suggest you follow your feet to where sleep is awaiting you. Mistress Hen and I would not dream of putting ourselves in so vulnerable a position with an unknown man inside the house."

"Ah," yawned Delph, "Then allow me to make myself vulnerable."

His feet padded across the floorboards, his braided hair all that was left visible beneath the quilt as gentle snores soon filled the room.

"I must assure you," Lyre began, "I had no intention of letting him take me to bed. I might have been tempted, however, if you'd been inclined to keep me warm under the covers."

"Was it necessary?" asked Hen, "That the witch and I should swallow our names? Do you really think there are those that seek to find us?"

"Any fool with finding magic would think to try their luck locating the witch," explained Lyre, "And with you... it was simply the safest solution for us all. As long as he is with us, we cannot let ourselves be found."

"Is it madness to think the Innate would spare him? He knows nothing of his past, what danger could he pose?" Hen glanced at the slumbering figure. "How do we help him?"

"We send him home."

"But what of the Warlock?" asked Hen, "Once his power is recovered, he intends to destroy us all. Whether Ramun believed it or not, I am certain of what I heard."

"Then, we send them together to Grunterbad. We find a way. The witch will be safe... and so shall we."

The Warlock took the Madning Isle precisely that he might gift it to his bride; he had no cause to leave it, not when it would be so much easier to stamp out the Innate as he had done with the Protectorate. Besides.

"What if the Divine does not accept him?" asked Hen, "Even if there was a way to send them both to the other world, would it really be fair to that poor child with his memories in tatters? There would be no escape... he would be trapped there with the Warlock. No. There must be a better solution."

"Let us test the waters first," suggested Lyre, "When the witch regains his wits we can begin to broach the subject."

"Very well," said Hen, "But let us assume the Divine takes no issue with marrying a stranger and bringing him home to Grunterbad. What of the Warlock? Why ever would he open the portal in the first place? His bride is here."

Lyre gestured to Delph. "He can open it. He did so once, he can do it again."

The Warlock's energy would be too low without the time to recover. If they were going to successfully expel them from this world, then Delphin Strahl's dormant power would hold the key. Even Lyre was unsure, if they could extract his magic without dredging up his forgotten past. But it was best for everyone; that the past remained forgotten.

"Don't worry," said Lyre, removing Hen's shoes and deftly rubbing her aching feet, "Now is the time to rest. All else can wait until a more respectable hour."

Hen moaned softly as her body sank further into the chair. Before any objections could rise to her lips, she was already fast asleep.

Rest was not forthcoming in the western woods.

"Can't you see that you've sent us to another dead end?" asked Fiepet. "It matters not if the Counsel is in that direction, if there is no path to lead us there."

"You would rather give up?" the Warlock countered, "While your brother is still unaccounted for?"

"I am merely of the opinion," said Fiepet, "That the more idiotic attempts to find him can wait until the sun comes up."

Fiepet's words continued to unnerve him. There was something too familiar in their delivery. 

A dry spot beneath an old gnarled oak was determined to be as good a place as any to put their heads down. Out of sight of wayward travelers, but not too deep into the trees that the road would be lost to them. Or that they would be lost to the Happenstance. Laid awkwardly upon a root, Fiepet gathered a pile of leaves beneath himself and tried to relieve the discomfort.

"Just lie still," the Warlock told him, "It is what it is."

"Even the forests of Grunterbad are not so torturous as this," Fiepet replied, "You should see for yourself how superior our home is compared to your Madning Isle!"

"Continue to talk, and you will not make it home again," the Warlock warned.

That night, he dreamed of Rel.

Come the morning, Fiepet stirred to find that the cavalry had arrived. Even in the darkness, the Counsel had recognized the glint of the Warlock's jewelled saddle; his great black steed racing through the trees, with Remora's dappled gray hitched to a carriage not far behind it. Exerting his power of voice, the spell on them was broken. Elion was ordered to grab their reins, and the Counsel vowed that once Fiepet was found, he would stand to answer for his second mistake.

"Are you sure?" asked Elion, "You're sure you know these horses...? It just sounds a bit-"

"Ah," interrupted the Counsel, "You implied that once, didn't you? That the people of Hofingrad fucked animals?"

"What?!" cried Ursa, desperately trying to launch his bound body in Elion's direction.

"You heard that..?" Elion asked.

"For the sake of friendship, it is sometimes best not to openly hear the thoughts that shame our friends. But it does not mean we live in ignorance of what is said." 

Elion's shame burned red beneath the moonlight.

"They cannot have gone far," the Counsel continued, "We search until they are found."

Ursa passed out again, and Elion, having begged that they return to find lodgings at the Catary, was forced instead to scour the western woods, where at last the sounds of their snores revealed them. 

"A welcome sight!" cried Fiepet, "Though... your condition appears much worse than when I left you. Or should that be, when you left me?"

The Counsel's withered frame was barely keeping upright.

"Come, dismount and rest a while."

"You know him?" asked Elion, of the eloquent stranger.

"Fiepet Strahl, of Strahl's Printworks in Grunterbad," the eloquent stranger announced. "I see you have returned with the horses. I was telling your friend the Warlock as we toiled on foot last night, that his so called powers have nothing on your own, Counsel."

Elion was quickly amused.

"Smiling?" the Warlock asked as he rose from another night sleeping outdoors, "Whatever for? You realize, do you not, that you've arrived to meet your punishment?"

"Warlock?"

"I promised to punish you for each mistruth you propogated. After conversing at length with Fiepet Strahl, I find all manner of reasons to kill you."

Fiepet furrowed his brow in the Warlock's direction and hurled a handful of leaves. Not only the Warlock was taken aback at such an action.

"You talk so easily of killing this man?!" cried Fiepet, "And dare to put the blame on something I have said which you deem has incriminated him? I will not stand for that!"

The Counsel waited for the Warlock's retaliation but it did not come.

"What power does he have, this Fiepet Strahl?!" Elion whispered to the Counsel.

"Is that the brother I see, tied to your horse?" the Warlock asked, clearing his throat and brushing dry leaves from his clothes. 

"No..." the Counsel replied, still reeling from Fiepet's unchecked words, "It is Ursa."

"Ah."

"Were you able to find my brother?" Fiepet asked, "Might you have need of my shoe? The Warlock tried and failed to use it. We must call once more on your magical prowess it seems, should we want it to work."

Elion was impressed by his command over the Warlock.

"I found your brother," the Counsel admitted. "That is to say... Warlock. I have found the witch."

The Warlock stopped in the middle of the forest path. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, last night I saw him. He had been traveling with Ursa. I caught but a glimpse before the place they were found became overrun with the prying populous. His brother here is the means to track him down. But, wait. What do you mean the shoe failed to locate him?"

"He does not know how to use it is all," interjected Fiepet, "But what is this of the witch? Was my brother with him?"

The Warlock's somber eyes were locked on the Counsel. 

Returning his gaze, his answer was laced with sincerity. "Warlock. Delphin Strahl is the Maddening Witch."

"What?" cried Fiepet, "Is this that bloody play again? Cuttle played the witch, and my brother and I were soldiers. What is it you're trying to suggest?"

The Counsel's patience was gone. "Do you not know?!" he shouted, "Who your brother really is? Or are you trying to hide his identity?! I saw him, clear as day! The Maddening Witch I followed with your fucking shoe! Warlock, he is here. He is alive."

The Warlock's hand tensed around the empty journal in his pocket. It could not be true. If the witch was here, he would have come to him.

"Did you see the man he speaks of?" the Warlock asked Elion.

"I cannot say I did... but your prisoner on the horse had his own opinion on the matter. Perhaps when he wakes he can offer you his own account."

The Warlock took a step towards the Counsel's horse, and Min backed up to block him.

"I gave him something," the Counsel confessed, "To help him sleep."

"In the meantime I'd be happy to convey his thoughts," offered Elion, "All the more so if it meant I could live a little longer..."

"Speak."

"The sleeping bear believes that Delphin Strahl is the witch's son. And that the witch himself... is dead."

That much, the Warlock had agreed with till now.

"But, perhaps there is a resemblance between father and son, so great that the Counsel confused them for one another. For Ursa remained quite resolute, that 'Piglet', as he affectionately called him, was far removed from the witch he has come to demonize. Ah! And it appears the rumor of the Witling Woman was quite their doing."

"Min," said the Warlock, "I do not doubt that you believed what you saw."

"What I saw," the Counsel replied, "Were those self-same eyes that have haunted my dreams for a hundred years! There was no mistaking them. Why do you think I had no choice but to rescue Ursa from himself? Because I know the truth will out! And that he will try to kill your bride to avenge the family he lost. The families we lost. You must send him away from here; to Grunterbad, to safety, for the sake of Rel."

"Min."

The Warlock believed he at last understood.

"If you want to spare him, I will help you. I know what he means to you. But you do not need to invent such a reason to force my hand. You need only ask."

Before the Counsel could counter, Fiepet needed clarification. 

"Did you come looking for my father, thinking he was your witch?" he asked the Warlock. "Clearly you haven't the beauties on the Madning Isle that we have at home, if you think my father's head would turn for another man!"

"Oh come now," said Elion with a salacious smile, "It depends on the man."