When the Warlock staggered back to the lakeside, he found the Counsel had not returned. Failing at first to note the absence of Fiepet and Elion, his attention was fixed on the carriage, and the missing captive he had yet to punish for his drunken advances.

Had Fiepet Strahl taken pity and freed him? Or had Elion found an angle to exploit? While the Warlock glowered, his senses too dulled by the wine to inform his next decision, a girl walked over to him with a sweet-bean bread.

"Are you the Warlock?" she asked.

Barely sixty, she was still too young to understand that she ought to fear him.

"Where are your parents?"

"They lined up with the others when the old man started giving out medicine. So I was the only one who saw what happened. The only one that got to see him."

The Warlock motioned to the carriage. "You saw who released him? Was it the one in the blue coat, or the big idiot with the blonde beard?"

"Neither of those," said the girl with a shake of her head.

He hadn't thought that after their discussion, the Counsel would have been so foolish as to disregard the vow he'd made. Didn't he agree? That Ursa would be kept under control and sent back to Grunterbad? Delaying the inevitable would not prevent it.

Not without conscience, the Warlock threw her a coin in exchange for her insights.

"The witch gave me one too," said the girl, "But he was much prettier than you."

"The man who let the prisoner go..?"

"Was the witch!" smiled the girl, "He's so pretty, I can see why you want to marry him."

"Which way did they go?" demanded the Warlock. The girl pointed a finger towards the mountain, happily joining in with the newlywed's game of hide and seek. Children knew nothing. They made mistakes and latched onto rumors like fleas to a dog. But still, his desperate feet dragged faster, his liquor-addled head pounding at the judder of every step.

At the far side of the lake, a shimmer of pale and purple. It moved across the Warlock's vision as though a streak of colored light in the gathering darkness. He ran. Closer to the violet haze just out of reach, watching as it deftly turned towards him; his breath faltering in the radiant glow of its countenance.

A face beyond his memory, and beyond the limits of corporeal beauty. The witch..?

The shimmer of pale and purple flickered, its flames burning brightly in every direction. The Warlock's eyes darted wildly, seeking out the brilliance of Maphis's favored child, now lost to the aurora of the purple dancing light. All it once it vanished; and only the shadow of the mountain remained. It had not been the witch, but a ghost sent to haunt him.

The Warlock closed his eyes, pleading to Hymm that the specter would return. But the ghost was gone. Clutching a hand to his temple, he staggered back, resolving to make the Hermit pay for his liquor's lingering effects.

"Shh!" Lyre cautioned, as Ursa tried to raise his head.

Leaving Mistress Hen to drag down Delph, she'd tackled the larger of the two as they'd made their approach with the Warlock in pursuit. If not for Lyre's quick thinking in dispatching her dolls to crowd his vision, he might well have discovered the witch was alive.

"Are you alright Master Strahl?" asked Hen, "I'm sorry to have pulled you so suddenly, I trust I have not harmed you?" 

"I'm okay," whispered Delph, "But who was that following just now?"

"Ah, likely whoever your friend was running from... we thought it best to lose them."

Lyre watched carefully, her heartbeat in her mouth as the Warlock's figure grew smaller. Not until he left her sight did she dare to let Ursa stand.

"Your friends, Piglet?"

"Mistress Hen, and Mistress Lyre. They're taking me back to the Sirrup House."

"And what of the man you left with last night? I thought your friend would likely be him; I paid him a small fortune to service you well at the Catary. Don't tell me he never finished the job?!"

Delph blushed in the company of Hen and Lyre, clearing his throat as he fixed his eyes on a broken branch.

"Were you fleeing from fun when we found you Master Strahl?" asked Lyre, an insinuating twitch of her eyebrows, "Or did you find him too much to handle..?"

"I-"

"You know as well as I do that Master Strahl was being chased when we rescued him, just as he was now. Rather than wait for the Warlock to come back, I think it best we retreat towards the mountain."

Hen hadn't meant to let his name slip out.

"That was the Warlock?" asked Delph, "But won't I need his help to return to Grunterbad? Do you think I should go and speak to him on my own?"

As though the three were of a singular mind, Ursa, Lyre and Hen all had the same response; "No!"

Ursa shot Delph's new friends a curious look.

"Oh right," realized Delph, "I'd forgotten how dangerous he can be. I shouldn't rush into anything foolish; at least not without Fiepet to back me up. What were his plans with you Ursa? Did he really mean to drown you..?"

He'd meant to hurt him, that much was sure, his face still throbbing from the punch it had taken. Why was it he'd punched him again? The liquor confused the order of events, he couldn't remember much besides the warmth of the Counsel's body. But, he wouldn't have... only in his dreams did he dare to touch him.

"The Warlock refuses to rein his temper. It is better, Piglet, that you keep your distance. That we both do."

Not only had there been talk of sending Ursa to the other world, but the Counsel had deluded himself that Delphin Strahl was the witch. Even if the Warlock disagreed with him, if Piglet looked the same as his father, then there was no telling how Pike may act when he saw him. Knowing that Fiepet was with them made things tricky, but was not something he felt worth sharing.

 "Your friend is right," said Mistress Hen, "Let us think clearly what is best and wait until we find your brother. For now we should move lest he return and find us."

What the Warlock found, was that Fiepet Strahl had returned; and was poking at the newly lit fire not far from the revelers.

"Did your talk go well?" asked Fiepet.

"Where have you been?" the Warlock demanded in return, "I told you plainly did I not?! That you are not to wander this land without my say-so!"

"As well as mine then at a guess," mused Fiepet, still picturing Cuttle's pained expression. "If the Counsel is somewhere with Ursa should you not go and find them? What was all that about, huh? A man so drunk he forgot it was not a woman beside him."

The Warlock regarded him strangely. Whether the heat from the fire or a discomfort burning from within, Fiepet's cheeks were as red as cherries. And it was clear he'd misunderstood his audience.

"I did not punch Ursa because the Counsel is a man. I punched him because the Counsel was unable to defend himself."

"It would not bother you then?" asked Fiepet, "If the two formed a sober attachment?"

His inadvertent curiosity had given the Warlock grounds to reflect on their relationship. He rarely took the time to think of them, assuming until now that they'd remained as brothers. When Min talked of how twisted things had become, were his feelings for Ursa included?

"Others' business is not mine. They can do as they wish."

Fiepet poked again at the fire, bright orange sparks flying above the flames. This world was too different from his own; the morality of its people too difficult to comprehend. If no one was drawing a line, he wouldn't know where to stand.

"How are we, Warlock and friend?!" 

The Hermit of Innsbad Cave had delegated the increasingly boisterous drinking contest to Olm, satisfied that now the Warlock was back, he had no duty to entertain the populace. Resting his weary bones beside the fire, he awaited a show of gratitude, and was quite surprised to find it not forthcoming.

"What the fuck is in that liquor of yours?" demanded the Warlock.

"Hm? Nothing! That is, nothing that warrants such a vehement distaste of it. Perhaps I underestimated your constitution... I hadn't had you pegged as a lightweight."

"I've drunk my fill just fine, and more besides, but I've yet to encounter a liquor potent enough to haunt my vision."

"You saw a ghost?" asked the Hermit, suddenly invested.

"Don't act dumb. Why else would the witch appear if not for the wine you fed me? He danced like a light around the lake before he was gone."

The Hermit made sense of things at last. "Ah! So that's whose energy I could not place! How fun! I had not expected your bride to be quite so mischievous, playing so close to his intended the night before your wedding. I had wondered who'd been speaking to the water."

"What do you mean?" asked the Warlock, "You heard something?"

"When we arrived, and for a short while after. Didn't you hear it too? Ah! This is what happens when you prioritze power over knowledge. You rushed your training that you might control the water, but you never thought to learn its language. Even Ease would have sensed it."

"The practice of water magic is forbidden!"

"Exactly! Then who else but your bride would have been so bold? I think the Divine will lend some much-needed levity to this forsaken isle. You chose your wife well!"

The Warlock looked back to the far side of the lake. It was not real, he told himself; as quickly as the witch had come, he'd vanished once more. It was nothing but a ghost. Just like the faces of the Protectorate that haunted his dreams, he was only visited by the dead. But the Hermit's words confounded him, seeping through the crack in his hardened heart.

My bride is here?

Whether desperate hope or liquor had fueled it, the Warlock rose to his feet, determined to find the answer.

"Ursa!" The Counsel had returned, only to find that Rel's brother was gone. "Warlock, where is he?!"

"I thought him with you," offered Fiepet.

"No," the Counsel replied, "I have not seen him since we left to talk. Pike, where is he?! Do you know who might have taken him? What of Elion? Could he have released him in our absence?"

"No, not Elion..." said the Warlock.

The Hermit smiled, drinking in the sight of his former student's enlightenment. The night had come, and the truth shone brightly against the dark. 

"He was taken by the witch."

The Counsel nodded, accepting it readily. They had been together at the Catary after all, and Ursa had yet to recognize him. Why wouldn't they mistake one another as friends? Only one among them took issue with the Warlock's response.

"The witch?" asked Fiepet, "The one who is dead? Or the one the Counsel believes my brother to be?!"

"That is what we will discover," said the Warlock, "Across the lake, towards the mountain."

"Fiepet Strahl, you need not follow," the Counsel told him, "When Ursa is found you will have your opportunity to accompany him back to Grunterbad."

Ramun's words were ringing in his ears. They would send him home with Ursa? What of Delph? If he was the one they were chasing, what would happen when at last he was caught? He would not leave him at their mercy, nor allow him to fall victim to their delusions.

"Show me this witch!" cried Fiepet, "And allow me to show you how wrong you really are! I shall not sit idle, lead the way if you know it! I will be on your heel every step of this madness, if only to pull you back from its brink."

The Warlock didn't care what he did; more time arguing was more time lost. Stilling the doubt that threatened to anchor him, he resolved to see this hunt through to its end. Whether Delphin Strahl or the Maddening Witch, tonight would see him unmasked.

The Hermit was amused, watching as the three set off together.

"Master!" cried Ease, "The liquor is done."

Olm carried over the earthenware flagon above his head. "Gone gone gone!" he declared proudly, "And light enough that we should barely notice its weight on the journey back to Innsbad."

 The flagon was lowered as his master's smile was raised. The disciples had a terrible premonition.

"Ease, Olm, hurry to the lake and fill it full with water. We've seldom chanced upon such a precious liquid as blessed by the Divine! Fear not, fear not and remove those looks from your faces! I shall carry it home on my back, just as I carried the first..!"