Passing through the trees where their clothes had been left drying, Hen hurriedly pulled them down and stuffed them into her pocket realm. It didn't matter if their things were still damp, they could not afford to leave a trail.

"What's the plan exactly?" asked Ursa, "If we continue on we'll be forced to climb, isn't it better to get back to the road?"

"We stay out of sight until the parade moves on," said Lyre, "Camp on the mountainside for the night and follow behind in the morning. If they find you gone, they should suspect you headed for the road. Besides, I need to recover my energy, and Delphin- well, Master Strahl should dry off after playing in the water all day."

"Is that what you've been doing while your comrade was made a prisoner?! Piglet, you're far more callous than I gave you credit for."

There was no sense explaining that none of it had been his own idea. And in honesty, he couldn't refute the accusation. As scared as he'd been when he ran for his life from the Catary, things really hadn't been bad for long. Lyre and Hen had taken good care of him, and he really had just played in the lake all day. Fiepet would not have left a friend behind without a fight.

"I'm sorry," said Delph.

"Master Strahl helped you escape, didn't he?" asked Hen, "Then I'd call him far from callous."

"This one seems to have taken a shine to you Piglet," noted Ursa.

Hen could sense Lyre's agitation rising.

"If you purport yourself to be his comrade, then you should help him dry his clothes when we've a fire made; he's likely to get sick in those wet clothes. I leave him in your hands. Mistress Lyre, let's continue on and find a spot where we can rest." 

In taking hold of Lyre's hand and leading her ahead, she successfully diffused any animosity towards Ursa. It was Mistress Hen's tact that had earned her peacemaking reputation in the palace, though she hadn't thought her skills would be needed when ascending Velmund Drum.

"That child is the Survivor of Hofingrad," Hen whispered to Lyre, "And your temper is unfounded."

"My temper? Dear Mistress Hen I said not a word against him!"

"Nor will you," cautioned Hen.

Lyre flashed a broad smile, stretching her fingers to interlock with the pretty maid's as they navigated the foot of the mountain.

"What's going on there then?" Ursa asked Delph with a nod to the ladies in front.

"They saved me last night. When word got out that we'd started the rumor, I was chased towards the forest and they found me. I think Mistress Lyre felt bad for separating me from Fiepet, so taking me back is a means of making amends."

"Not that," said Ursa, "Are they together? They seem very... close with one another."

"The rocks are loose underfoot, why wouldn't they hold hands? Do you want me to take yours that you might steady yourself?"

"No," Ursa replied, in awe of Delph's naivety, "Besides, you're dripping everywhere. It would be like holding an octopus."

"Oh!" cried Delph, "I have read of those! Do you have them here on the Madning Isle?"

Ursa winced at the name.

"It used to be called the Cimbran Isle, before it was conquered by the Warlock and named after-" Ursa was sure now that the witch must be Delph's father, and hadn't the heart to curse him, "After his bride. The Cimbran Isle and the city of Velmund, both were changed under his reign."

"Velmund? Like the mountain?"

"Like the mountain. And not too far from here lies the source of the Rivel Vel that feeds into the capital. They call the city Relmund now, in honor of my brother. He would always boast that one day he would live there, and he does in a way; his name living on beyond his death."

"His name was Rel-mund?"

"Rel! His name was Rel!"

"Ah. The Warlock must have liked him very much..."

"The Counsel too. The three of them were friends before the witch appeared. And yet you know already which name was put above my brother's in the end; Pike's love for him was only worth a city, and yet the witch got the whole damn isle."

With night drawing in, the temperature had begun to drop. Delph was shivering, the wet clothes clinging to his body and causing his teeth to chatter. Ursa could hear his labored breaths as they walked.

"If you die here you'd be lucky to get a tree named after you, so hurry up that we can get that fire lit."

The four pressed on. Not far behind them, and closer than they could have realized, the Warlock was on the hunt.

"He appeared as a light?" asked the Counsel.

"My head was ringing from the liquor. I thought it a specter when I saw his face. Suddenly there were half a dozen like him dressed in violet... except... for their hair. It was dark I think. They danced in my vision and were gone again."

It sounded familiar. Fiepet was reminded of inciting Lyre's wrath outside the palace. The purple flashes, like ghosts in his periphery. Cuttle had told him, that Delph was with her. It seemed clear now that it was his brother they were chasing.

"And what of Ursa?" asked the Counsel.

"I didn't see him, but I suspect he was there. It felt almost dreamlike; as though I was bewitched. He appeared and was gone."

"His eyes?"

"I did not meet them... but he did look back, if only for a moment."

"Then it was likely not the witch," offered Fiepet. "From what I've been told he was your one great love, so why would he run from you? If it was your bride, would he not have stopped when he saw you?"

"He may not have recognized the Warlock as he is now," ventured the Counsel, "Our youth was left in Hofingrad, and a century of hardship changed us greatly. Only Rel's face has stayed the same, kept safe all these years in our memory."

A century was long enough to forget a face; and it did not bode well for Delph should reason be excused by the passing of time. Confusing him for another was becoming a frightening possibility.

"Don't look so fearful," said the Warlock, as though reading his mind, "If it is not my bride, I do not want him. No other but the Maddening Witch can tempt me... no matter how close a resemblance they may share."

"So you have no plans to make my brother your bride?"

"No," said the Warlock.

Fiepet breathed a sigh of relief.

"Unless he is the witch."

He regretted it already, not listening to the man in the dress... and making Cuttle cry. If there was a chance they could have helped, he'd been a fool not to accept it. Now it fell to him alone to keep Delphin safe.

The tracks of the ghost were not well hidden; a discarded cloth and trail of water through the dry leaves gave them away.

In the years the Warlock and Counsel had exterminated the Protectorate, they had learned to discern the marks of a hasty retreat. And in the years that the Counsel had searched for Ursa, he had learned not to underestimate his ability to disappear.

"How did you manage that?" asked the Warlock, admiring the lock of dark hair resting in the Counsel's hand, "I thought you were asleep in the carriage with him?"

"I cut it at the Catary when he was passed out. I had a feeling he'd do something stupid if given the opportunity."

The location where Ursa was found had as yet been a mystery to the Warlock. Given he'd been traveling with Delphin Strahl, he could only assume that the two had been there together. This posed a serious issue should he prove to be the witch.

"What is a catary?" asked Fiepet, "Is it as it sounds? A farm where cats are bred perhaps?"

The Counsel realized his mistake.

"There's breeding alright," said the Warlock, "Or at least the act that leads to it."

"The witch was alone when I found him there," the Counsel assured, "And fully dressed."

Fiepet couldn't decide if he should be outraged that his brother had fallen into morally reprehensible behavior, or be thankful he'd sought out the company of a woman at a bawdy house. If anything, it only proved further that he was not the man the Warlock was looking for.

"We'll discuss this later," said the Warlock, "Hurry and do the spell."

When Ursa ran from Relmund, he divorced his spirit from all he'd touched, out of fear there'd be an object used to find him. But a physical part of himself could not be so easily separated. The Counsel placed it on the ground, performed the ritual, and confirmed their suspicions. 

"You take Ursa, I'll take the witch."

"Suspected witch!" cried Fiepet, hurrying after them in the moonlight.

On the side of the mountain, Delph stopped to listen. The faintest sound, and yet it stirred something within him.

"Did you hear that?" he asked the others, "I think there's someone down there."

"Relax," said Ursa, "The Knurren keep to the forest, and the Happenstance don't usually announce themselves. Probably just someone looking for a place to fuck."

"Most likely," agreed Lyre, raising an eyebrow towards Mistress Hen. "Not a bad idea."

"It would serve us well to be on our guard," reasoned Hen, "If the Counsel came looking for Master Ursa then the rest of us would be caught along with him. It is a risk we can scarce afford."

"They would capture us for helping him escape?" asked Delph, "Then should not you and Mistress Lyre go on without us? I was the one to untie him after all."

Lyre was more than happy to separate and have some alone time with the pretty maid, but Hen was adamant they should stay together. Deep down she knew it too, that the Warlock finding Delph would be trouble; but if the Counsel came looking, not even her strongest magic could protect them from his power of voice.

"I'll send a doll to check, okay?" offered Lyre, allowing them to continue onwards.

Before long, Hen felt the fingers tightening around her hand. 

"Is it the Counsel? Or the Warlock..?"

"Both," said Lyre, "And another... Fiepet Strahl is with them."

"Fie is here?!"

"Now is not the time for reunions, Piglet," cautioned Ursa.

"But if my brother is here, then things will be sorted out in no time! There is no need for panic. Fiepet will know what to do."

"Can you forge us a path through the mountain?" asked Hen.

"It's too risky. If the Counsel calls for me to stop, we'd find ourselves encased in stone. It might be better, to split up and let them find the one they're after." Lyre was staring solely at Ursa.

"Those maniacs aren't just looking for me!" cried Ursa, "The Counsel's got it into his head that Piglet here-"

He didn't need to finish his sentence for Lyre and Hen to understand him.

"That I'm what?" asked Delph, "The son of the Maddening Witch..?"

They couldn't hide the truth from him any longer. He had to learn quickly that even Fiepet's protestations might not be enough to save him.

"That you are the Maddening Witch," Ursa revealed. 

"Me?!"

"And if the Warlock decides to agree with him," added Lyre, "Then you'll have no choice but to become his bride. Your brother won't be strong enough to stop him... not even I could prevent it."

Ursa raised his hands in protest. "Pike refuted it," he said, "Only the Counsel refuses to accept that they're father and son, and not one in the same."

"You haven't seen the determination in the Warlock's eyes," warned Lyre, "They burn with the fire of Canphis. He means to capture his prey tonight."

Delph was still trying to understand it. His father's life had been a mystery; and as unlikely as it was that he'd lived in another world and been sweethearts with a Warlock, there was no evidence to the contrary. But what of his own life? He had lived it in Grunterbad; growing beside his brother, helping at the Printworks, and keeping clear of the curious townsfolk. If he had lived as a witch, would he not have remembered it?

"Ridiculous."

"If we cannot go through the mountain, what options are left to us?" asked Hen, "Do we continue to climb or admit defeat?"

Lyre racked her brains for a solution. "We climb!" she cried, "Continue onwards to the stream."

"And then what?" asked Ursa, "Build a raft and let it carry us down the mountain?"

"And then Delphin Strahl will make us a portal in the water."

"Just as you did in the lake, Master Strahl," said Hen, "You find a door in the water and open it; only this time you make it large enough to swim through. Trust me, I know you can do it." Her hand found Delph's and squeezed it gently.

"I mean, I will," he offered, "But it's still insane to think of, that anyone would confuse me with the Maddening Witch! Ursa, how did they-"

As pale as the moon that shone high above their heads, Ursa's frightened form backed away from him. 

"Ursa?"

"What did she mean, Piglet..?" he asked his new-found friend, "How did you make a door in the lake?"

"I found it," Delph told him plainly, "I spoke to the water and it showed me where to look..." 

The unnerving beauty, the scars at his wrists... only one other man besides the Warlock could rend the velvet water. "He doesn't know, does he?" Ursa asked Mistress Hen.

The maid shook her head, an uncomfortable silence settling down around them.

"Save your revelations," demanded Lyre, "They're coming!"