Cassima continued south, through the cool Serenian forest. The day had grown slightly overcast, and the queen's confusion over the events that had just taken place and the things she had recently learned hadn't subsided at all. She was in a different time? Shadrack was a werewolf? This bracelet she was wearing would turn her into a goat?

The bracelet – she had forgotten all about it. She rolled up her sleeve and examined the odd adornment, turning it to see the engravings etched into it. Raven, wolf, sea lion, goat, lizard, panther. Six different animals, all of which she could become with one of six words in what Crispin called the Old Language – the words which had branded themselves into her memory when Crispin put the bracelet on her. She had never read or heard the words before, yet now she felt she could spell and pronounce them as if she was born knowing how.

But why would she want to change herself into a lizard or a goat? Not only that, but once she had become an animal, how would she change herself back into a human?

The scrap of parchment Crispin had given her suddenly crinkled noisily in her pocket. She sat down on a convenient mossy rock, took the paper out, unfolded it, and began to read it.

The elegant and nearly illegible calligraphy at the top of the parchment read, "Guide to Using the Charm of Transformational Power." The name of the author was below, but it was so smeared that Cassima couldn't make it out. She read on…

This item is a bracelet designed to be worn on the upper arm in order for it to be operational. The bracelet allows the wearer to change into one of six different animals carved in it. One needs only to recite the Olde name of any of the creatures that are magically embedded into the wearer's mind when the bracelet is clamped onto the arm. If the wearer is in an animal form and wishes to return to his original form, he must recite his species' name (in this case, Andros). The bracelet will not be visible while the wearer is transformed.

The incantations spoken by the wearer will change only the wearer, not anyone else nearby. The wearer can also be changed by anyone who recites the words within sight and earshot.

The six different forms are:

Raven: Provides the wearer of the charm with the much sought-after power of flight, the only creature on the charm capable of such an ability. It has keen eyesight and can fly for great distances without stopping.

Wolf: A creature well suited for cold lands, with thick, padded paws and sharp senses. Keep in mind that this animal is most active after dark.

Sea Lion: An odd animal, not to be confused with the half lion, half fish creatures of the wilder regions of the multiverse. The sea lion is sleek and swift, a fast swimmer, capable of holding its breath for at least two hours at a time (which is very useful if the wearer is in a situation that requires an extensive period spent underwater).

Goat: Though seen as an unpleasant creature in some respects, the goat is an ideal form to be in if one wishes to scale steep, rocky cliffs. The horns (which manifest in both male and female alike) and the thick skull can be used to perform the goat's well-known act of breaking down barriers.

Lizard: A very small and quick creature, two traits that may be of great value to the wearer if he should find himself in a tight situation. A note: Lizards can lose or break off their tails if they get caught in something. The loss of a tail has no effect on the bracelet's wearer when he changes back to his original human form.

Panther: One of the most graceful and lithe animals in existence. Like the wolf, it has penetrating night vision and is renowned for being swift, stealthy, quick-minded and intelligent. Armed with sharp teeth and claws, this form should be used with caution by all bearers of this charm, novice or expert.

Another note of great importance: The animals that the wearer changes into do not alter or eliminate his memories or intellect. He will still be able to think and speak like a human. Some of the wearer's physical attributes may also stay with him through the transformation. Ordinary individuals probably won't notice these things, but a well-trained sorcerer's eye won't miss them.

Also, the longer one stays in any of the six forms, the more like an animal he will become. If the wearer stays in one shape for too long, he may forget that he is a human beneath and remain as a beast for the rest of his life. It is advisable to try not to stay as an animal for long periods of time or change from one creature to another consecutively. Again, one can return to your original form by reciting the word Andros, but it is direly important not to forget one's humanity.

User of this charm, beware, and do not forget.

Whoever wrote this guide, he was certainly keen on not getting him or herself in trouble for failing to give adequate warning regarding the use of the bracelet. Cassima felt a touch of unease as she read the last two paragraphs, but decided that she was capable of handling this charm nonetheless. After all, Alexander had dabbled in transformations before, and he had come out of it intact – surely Cassima could do the same.

Rising from her natural seat, Cassima continued south, and it wasn't long before the woods thinned and she came to a small town.

The cobblestone streets of the town felt hard under Cassima's shoes. She looked around at the quaint shops and dwellings, all of which were painted white with green and brown trim. The town seemed almost deserted. No voices came from the buildings, and no one answered her knocks on any of the doors. Perhaps the growing gloominess of the day had affected the residents of the town, making them as lethargic as lizards during cold weather.

The sound of someone running across the cobblestones at a fair clip dispelled Cassima's theory, however. A young boy due to enter adolescence in two or three years ran across the town square and ducked into a small alley. Out of curiosity, Cassima decided to follow him.

The alley ran straight for a few feet before turning left. However, Cassima couldn't see what was around that corner because the way was blocked by several large barrels filled with something that made them too heavy for her to move, and the low hem of her dress made climbing over them an undesirable prospect. There was no sign of the boy she had seen earlier, Still, he had to have gone down this alley.

"Hello! Is anyone there?" Cassima called.

Within a few moments, a lean boy with long black hair approached her from around the bend in the alley. It was the same boy she had seen running across the square. He slowly walked up to the barrel blockade, eyeing her suspiciously.

"What do you want, lady?" he asked when he was directly on the other side of the barrels, barely three feet away from Cassima.

"Could you…could you please let me by?" the queen asked.

"What's the password, lady?"

Password? A lifetime of royal training may have left Cassima without the pleasures of a typical childhood, but she knew about children's hideouts and secret meeting places, one of which this boy was surely being the watchman for. Still, her knowledge didn't give her any means of giving the boy an answer other than, "I don't know."

"Then you can't come back here!" the boy snapped. "Go away!"

And with that, he stomped away, disappearing around the bend. As put off as Cassima was, she still felt that she had to find a way to get into this boy's little secret society, or whatever it was. After all, she still had no idea where to go next, and she was willing to ask anyone – even a little bratty boy – for advice.

As she turned away and began walking out of the alley, she noticed two more boys coming her way. She had an idea. She began casually walking away towards the path out of town, paying no attention to the boys as they walked towards the alley. As soon as she was out of their sight, she quickly ran to the building on the left side of the alley and listened as intently as she could to the voices of the boys coming from around the corner:

"Hey! Hans! It's us!"

There was a sound of footsteps as Hans – the watchman – approached the two boys.

"What's the password, Tobias?" Hans asked.

"Down with Ashni!" Tobias said triumphantly.

"All right," Hans said, apparently satisfied. "Help me move this barrel."

There was a harsh scraping sound accompanied by much grunting from three different mouths as the trio apparently shoved one of the barrels blocking the entrance aside, stepped inside the boundary, and then pushed the barrel back again. After that, all was silent.

Cassima stepped out from her unimpressive hiding place and made her way to the barrels again. Ashni? She thought. Where have I heard that name before? Still, since it was the password, she decided to make use of it.

"Hello! Boys?"

Hans came up to her again and prompted her for the password.

"Down with Ashni."

"Well," Hans said reluctantly, "Considering you know it, I guess it's all right for you to come in…help me move this."

"Certainly," Cassima said, helping Hans (who was quite strong for his size) shove one of the barrels far enough out of the way for her to step through the opening. After helping him replace the barrel, she followed him around the corner to the end of the alley. There were three more boys there, two of them fighting with a pair of wooden swords, the third watching them from his seat on the ground, his back against the wall. The two young duelists stopped their battle when they noticed Cassima. A girl of any age in their secret hideout was definitely not something that happened every day – especially a girl dressed in royal garments.

Looking at the four boys, Cassima decided that they would know nothing about a wizard named Shadrack. But perhaps they would be a lot more familiar with someone else…

"So tell me, Hans," Cassima said, "Who is this Ashni you referred to in your password?"

Hans snorted.

"She's a dummy, that much I know."

"Is she a person around your age?"

"Yeah, but she acts like someone less than half of it." Hans said scornfully.

"What do you mean?"

Hans screwed up his face in contemplation.

"She talks funny. She talks about weird stuff too. Even the girls don't like her."

"And for good reason," piped up the boy who was sitting, who was apparently Tobias. "I've got two older brothers, and my dad always says that I'm his stupidest son, but he always says, 'At least you're not like that little Ashni waif!'"

Goodness. Whoever Ashni was, she was certainly a scapegoat. Still, Cassima couldn't place where she'd heard that name before.

"Where does this Ashni live?"

"She lives outside the town, past the gate," said Hans. "You can't miss her; she's got funny hair. I wouldn't recommend calling on that half-witted baby, though."

"Thank you anyway."

Well, at least she had a goal now. She could only hope that Ashni or someone she knew would somehow help her in her search. It all had to lead somewhere.

The gate at the east end of the town opened into a much greener neighborhood nestled in the foothills of the huge mountain range that bordered Serenia. A dirt path wound its way through grassy lands, with occasional trees dotting the land in front of houses that were humble, yet beautiful in their own way.

It was rather quiet here as well, however. It had grown a little cooler, too. A few people were outside, tending their gardens or their livestock, but other than that, this community was just as quiet as the main town.

As Cassima walked down the dirt path, she noticed a small girl sitting on the grass outside of her home, nonchalantly playing with a brightly painted toy horse. She didn't look up as Cassima passed by, or when Cassima cleared her throat to alert the girl to her presence.

She had pale skin dappled with freckles, and was dressed in a simple tan skirt. She had thick hair the color of rust, and it was parted in a striking zigzag pattern that made Cassima wonder whether she had done her hair in that way herself, or whether her mother had done it to her…

What was it that Hans had said about Ashni? "She's got funny hair?" If this wasn't Ashni, who else could it be?

"Good day, young friend." Cassima said quietly from the path. The girl barely raised her read in response.

"Why are you sitting all alone here? Don't you have friends to play with?"

The girl looked at her for a moment out of large, brown eyes, and then suddenly looked away, as if she had seen something that scared her.

"What's wrong?" Cassima asked. "Did I frighten you?"

Ashni looked at her out of the corner of one eye.

"What do you want?" she mumbled.

"What?"

"What do you want?" she said in that same low mutter. "I didn't do anything."

"I never said you did."

"They don't like me. They never did."

"Who doesn't like you?" Cassima asked. "The boys in the alley?"

Ashni looked her in the eye, then turned away again.

"Yeah. Them."

Although Cassima had few doubts that this was the girl the boys spoke of, she decided to make sure, just in case:

"You're Ashni, aren't you?"

"Yes. But who are you?"

"A friend. I spoke with the boys in the alley in the town square. They seem to dislike you."

"I know," said Ashni indifferently, making her toy horse jump over an imaginary obstacle. "Everyone does."

"But I don't understand why they do."

"'Cause I don't have a daddy and I don't act like they do," said Ashni, a little bolder. "That's why I think they hate me."

Cassima knew of several children from the village of the Isle of the Crown who were jealous of her because of her royal status. When she and her family paid visits to the neighboring towns, they would often make faces at her when her parents weren't looking, and she was usually too afraid to tell on them. She hated to see this little girl ostracized in a similar manner, and she decided to do something about it – or at least attempt to do so.

"I think they're just insensitive boys, Ashni. I think you're no more unnatural than they are, and I'm going to go and tell them that."

Ashni shrugged stiffly.

"Do that if you want to," she said without looking up, continuing to play with her horse.

Cassima turned to leave, but stopped and looked back at the quiet child sitting on the grass. As withdrawn and blunt as Ashni seemed, she wasn't at all the young village idiot that the boys had described to Cassima. She was just a little different from most children, but to the boys in the alley, that difference was a good enough excuse to mock her.

"I just spoke with Ashni, and I don't understand why you seem so negative towards her," Cassima said to Hans, having returned to the boys' alley.

"She's too strange for us, that's for sure," Hans replied, kicking a small stone as the two boys formerly engaged in the swordfight began whispering to each other and snickering.

"Ashni's just different, Hans."

"I still hate her," Hans said adamantly. "She's ugly, and recently she's done something to make me hate her even more!"

"What's that?"

"She borrowed my toy horse a while back and said she'd return it, and now it's been three nights."

Suddenly Ashni didn't seem quite as innocent anymore.

"Three nights?" Cassima repeated. "That doesn't sound very long…"

"Fortnights," Hans said. As angry at Ashni as he was, he seemed to take delight in his little bit of wordplay.

"Oh. I can see why you'd feel hostile towards her, then."

Hans's features suddenly brightened as he looked at Cassima.

"You think you can get it back, lady?" he asked eagerly, realizing a way that Cassima's seniority could be used to his advantage.

"Well…I could try."

"If you get my horse back, I promise not to say anything bad about Ashni or you, even though you are girls."

Cassima was slightly incensed by this remark, but since the boys had been fairly civil to her so far, she elected not to push her luck by reprimanding the youngster.

"Very well, Hans. I'll be back soon."

Cassima returned to the small hut on the outskirts of the town. Ashni was still playing with the horse.

"Ashni?"

The girl didn't look up. Cassima called the girl's name again, and this time Ashni looked up angrily, as if Cassima had disturbed her from something important.

"What? Who are you? My Mama told me not to talk to…"

She trailed off as she recognized Cassima. She looked passively at her before returning to her game.

"I'm sorry," Cassima said quietly, slowly approaching Ashni. "Who did your mother tell you not to talk to? Strangers?"

"Yeah," Ashni said, looking down at the toy horse. "Mama said no talking to strangers. Not since…"

She paused and looked blankly at a spot in the distance.

"Since what happened?" Cassima asked cautiously.

"I don't remember it, but my Mama does. She cries whenever she talks about it."

Cassima suddenly remembered Ashni's comment about not having a father. It wasn't hard to figure out what she was referring to in light of that. The queen quickly changed the subject:

"I talked with Hans, and he said that that toy horse you're playing with is his. Is this true?"

Ashni recoiled slightly, but then relaxed.

"Well…yes, it is," she admitted.

"I'm sure he wants it back."

Ashni looked into Cassima's eyes again.

"That won't make him stop yelling mean names at me every time I pass their alley," she said, a little harsher than normal.

"I think it will. I made a deal with him. He promises to stop picking on you if you give him back his horse."

Ashni protested again, and Cassima tried to reason with her. After a few increasingly frustrating exchanges, Ashni finally agreed to give up the horse, as well as give Cassima her word that she wouldn't take it again. Cassima gently took the horse from her grasp. It was an elegant little toy, painted in bright colors, though carved rather roughly from wood.

Hans was overjoyed to get his horse back. As Cassima withdrew it from her pocket, in his haste to get it, he almost pushed Cassima down. He examined it carefully for any damage, and then clasped it to his chest, grinning widely.

"Gee, lady, thank you so much! I promise not to say anything bad about Ashni…"

His grin suddenly wilted into a sullen frown.

"…Unless she takes my horse again, that is…"

"She promised that she wouldn't," Cassima assured him. "You seem awfully protective of that horse, though."

"I should be. I made it."

Cassima was so surprised she almost laughed.

"You made it??"

"Of course," Hans said proudly, stroking the horse head to tail. "My Papa is the best toymaker in the village, and I'm going to be the best toymaker in the world when I grow up!"

"Well, I wish you luck." Cassima smiled.

"Thanks…and lady, I want to give you something in return for getting my horse back."

With that, Hans pulled a large hand mirror from one of his pockets.

"You'd be surprised how handy one of these can be, lady. It's great for shining intruders in the eyes with, and you can send signals to other people with it, too. I've kept this wonderful mirror with me since I was a baby…"

"I thought you said you stole it from your mother," Tobias mumbled.

"Shut your mouth, Toby!" Hans snapped. "Anyway, you deserve this for taking care of that Ashni. Be careful with it. Good-bye!"

Cassima thanked him, her adverse feelings about Ashni stealing from Hans dulled upon realizing that Hans was as much a thief as she was.

Temporarily restoring peace between the boys and Ashni had brought the queen some satisfaction. Still, she had no idea where to head next in her journey…and there was one mystery that she needed to find an answer to, as much as she hated to do so…

"Ashni…can you please tell me…how did your father die?"

Ashni was silent for a moment. She didn't appear upset, but her voice trembled a little when she spoke:

"Well…Mama says that a stranger just came walking by the house and did something to him that…killed him. It was so long ago…I don't even remember what Daddy looked like."

Then this was her! The ghost she had met in the Underworld said that his wife's name was Elise and his daughter's name was Ashni! Cassima knew the name had sounded familiar.

"Maybe that stranger was a fairy," Ashni said, locking her fingers. "Some fairies kill people."

"I…I don't think that stranger was a fairy, Ashni."

"Fairies can be pretty different, you know," Ashni said. "Some have wings, some are part animal, and some look just like humans."

Cassima decided not to interrupt Ashni again, for fear of upsetting her. Perhaps talking about fairies was her way of coping with grief. Consequently, Cassima sat through a seven-minute "lecture" from Ashni that told her more about fairies than she had ever known or would have cared to know. The young girl recited a list of materials that most fairies avoid and a description of multiple species of fairies and other fantastic beasts, including the repulsive Nuckelavee, a creature that was part aquatic horse, part deformed human, with no skin covering its muscles and entrails. Ashni's knowledge on the subject was impressive, though. The boys were certainly wrong in calling her stupid. She may have been ignorant of social customs, but when it came to mythical beasts, Ashni was an expert.

"How do you know so much about fairies?" Cassima asked when the girl finally finished her speech.

"I read about them," Ashni said simply. "I wish I could meet a fairy someday. I like them."

"Why?"

Ashni stared contemplatively off into space again.

"It's the ones that look just like humans I like. I like them because they look like humans, but they're not. They're so different but so alike."

It didn't take much thought on Cassima's part to figure out why Ashni felt this way. In a way, these humanlike fairies she mentioned were a lot like her: ordinary in appearance outside, vastly different inside. The humanlike fairies seemed to be in the minority in the fairy world, too – while all their cousins were half-beast, somewhat distorted in shape, extraordinarily beautiful or winged, the fairies Ashni loved were the ones that appeared completely normal, though of course they were anything but.

"Well, maybe some day you'll meet one of those fairies," Cassima said softly. "Just keep your hopes up and try to ignore those boys, and maybe someday you will."

"Maybe," Ashni said, picking a blade of grass and rolling it between her fingers.

"One more thing," Cassima said. "If I were looking for someone and had no idea who to ask for help, where would I go?"

Ashni thought for a moment, then turned and pointed eastward. Cassima followed the angle her finger was pointed, and in the distance, she glimpsed several peaks of the intimidating Serenian mountain range, half-hidden in the thick fog.

"Up in the mountains," Ashni said. "A queen lives up there. She has wolves for servants. People say she knows a lot, but I don't – "

She was interrupted by a loud voice coming from behind her. She and Cassima looked to see a woman with wavy, strawberry blond hair and deep brown eyes staring at them from the window of Ashni's hut – undoubtedly Ashni's mother.

"Ashni, come inside!" she yelled. "Why are you talking to that woman? I've told you not to talk with people you don't know!"

Cassima rose to her feet and took a step backwards.

"I'm sorry, Elise," she said. "I didn't mean any harm! I was only…"

"What?" Elise said, eyeing Cassima suspiciously. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"

"I…I heard it from a friend!" Cassima said awkwardly. "I swear to you, I wasn't trying to harm your daughter in any way!"

Elise mellowed slightly at this.

"If that is true, you have my apologies. But you need to come inside, Ashni. We need to start preparing the stew for tonight's supper."

"Yes, Mama," Ashni sighed. She got up, then turned to Cassima.

"Good-bye, lady," she said quietly.

"Good-bye, Ashni," Cassima replied. "And thank you."

Ashni smiled a very small smile, then began running towards the ramshackle hut in which she and her mother lived, leaving Cassima in an even greater state of bewilderment than she had been in before.

Several hours later, Cassima found herself pondering the sanity of trudging along this barren, steep path leading up into the mountains. The air had already grown cold, but snow had yet to start appearing along the trail. Why was she doing this? For the thirteenth time, she had to remind herself that she had taken the advice of a small, slightly eccentric girl because she couldn't find anyone else to ask about her destination.

Shivering and feeling like she was blundering into even more trouble, Cassima continued on as the path grew rockier and steeper beneath her feet and the winds grew fiercer.

After another hour, she finally had to stop. She was now truly in the mountains; fog shrouded the lowlands far beneath her, and nothing but snow-covered boulders could be seen above and below her on the path winding its way up the mountainside.

She sat down on a nearby boulder, shivering violently and cursing herself for not being better prepared than she currently was. If only she had thought to bring along a scarf or a robe or a fur coat…

Fur…

For some reason, that word sparked something in her memory. With numb fingers, she drew back her right sleeve to reveal the bracelet Crispin had given her, and the words written on the scrap of parchment replayed in her mind:

Wolf: A creature well suited for cold lands, with thick, padded paws and sharp senses…

As reluctant as Cassima had been to use the bracelet before, now it seemed that it would be the only thing that would save her life. If the wolf was truly as suited to cold climates as the parchment said, perhaps…

Reluctance welled up within her again. What if something went wrong? She had never dealt with even simple magic before, who could say how she could withstand something as extreme as a physical transformation…

It's for Alexander's sake.

Cassima didn't know where the voice came from, but she found that she couldn't deny what it said. She glanced down at her wedding ring and felt her eyes grow wet. This journey, as awkward and disjointed as it was, might – no, would help her husband if she succeeded in it. If she turned back now, she could never live with herself for giving up, and if Alexander could dive headfirst into the practice of magic, so could she.

Beating her arms in an attempt to keep warm, Cassima stoically rose to her feet, which were quickly turning numb in the frigid snow. She gently patted the bracelet, for luck if nothing else, closed her eyes and firmly recited the word associated with the wolf on her bracelet:

"Lupus."

There was an odd, distant rumbling, almost like thunder, and an odd rushing of wind in her ears. She felt her body become insubstantial, like dry earth turned to dust in the breeze, then morph and shift about her. As it slowly seemed to grow solid again, she could have sworn she heard a low, distant howl mixed in with the strange wind.

When all the noises had ceased, Cassima noticed that it no longer seemed as cold as it had been moments before, and when she opened her eyes, the boulders sitting beside her on the path seemed to have grown in size. It didn't take her long to realize why: she was covered by a thick coat of fur and standing on four legs.

Cassima turned around in place, trying to examine her new body. Her fur was black – the same color her hair had been – and her paws were thickly padded, with large, dark claws protruding from them. She lifted one of them and touched her face, tactually examining her long muzzle and large, pointed ears. Though she had no way of knowing what she truly looked like, it was quite apparent that the charm had worked: she was now a wolf.

After a few minutes of letting this realization sink in, Cassima reminded herself that she had to continue her journey. She recalled the warning on the parchment about staying in one form for too long, and she had no idea how much longer she would be traversing these treacherous mountains. With this knowledge in mind, she continued along the snowy path, hoping that it would lead her somewhere of consequence.

After some time, the path she was walking along abruptly came to a dead end: a waterfall, now frozen by the frigid weather, had washed the path away, leaving nothing but a rigid, vertical sheet of ice. The path continued on the opposite side of the waterfall, but the gap between it and the section of path Cassima was currently on was at least eight feet wide.

A situation like this would have probably led to feelings of despair and utter hopelessness had Cassima been human at the time, but being a wolf had awakened senses and strengths that she had never felt before. To a wolf, this snowy land was familiar territory, and a crevice like this that would appear daunting to a human was a mere hop for any lupine.

Cassima found herself feeling completely confident that she could leap across that gap. All the doubts, anxieties and fears she would have felt as a human were somehow suppressed as she faced this new obstacle. As she was slowly backing up and preparing to jump, however, something on a ledge several feet up caught her eye.

Curious, she propped her forelegs against the mountainside and stood up on her hind legs to get a better look at whatever the "something" was. It turned out to be a tiny statuette of a wolf in a sitting position, perched on a square platform. It appeared to be carved out of some type of clear crystal, making it blend in with the snow almost perfectly.

Cassima extended a paw and slid the statuette closer to her. As she examined it, she realized that she could just make out her reflection in its surface. It was tiny and distorted, but it was visible. Her face looked a bit slim and delicate for a wolf's, and she was surprised to see that her eyes had remained the same color. She was even more surprised to see that she was still wearing her headdress. Unlike the rest of her garments, it had somehow stayed with her during the transformation.

She sensed that this statuette had to be important in some way and was therefore worth taking, but how could she accomplish that? She had no clothes now, and ergo, no pockets.

Cassima glanced at her reflection again, and a wild thought suddenly struck her. She moved her paw underneath the soft fabric of her headdress and almost immediately felt something long, pointed and hard: her dagger. She reached out with her other paw, carefully scooped up the wolf statuette and slipped it under the headdress. Amazingly, her headdress felt no heavier than it did before, and she couldn't even feel the statuette or the dagger on top of her head. In fact, she could have sworn she felt the statuette shrink in size as she stashed it away.

This phenomenon had to be the magic's way of dealing with extraneous, non-clothing items while the bracelet's wearer was in a different form, but it certainly was an odd way of doing so. Still, it suited Cassima just fine, since she certainly couldn't think of a better way to carry her sparse belongings.

With that business taken care of, she turned her attention to the gap in the path again. She stepped back a few more feet, then took off running, getting the knack of a four-legged gait almost instantly. Momentarily, she reached the crevice, leapt it and landed with a bit less grace than she would have liked on the opposite side.

Still, thanks to this form, Cassima had been able to accomplish what would have been nigh impossible for a human. At the same time, however, she was now thinking and acting in a way quite different than the way she usually did. As she got to her feet and continued along the snowy path, she had the uneasy suspicion that as long as she was in this body, she would have to play by its rules.

The path soon began sloping upward and widening. Presently, a remarkable sight some distance ahead met Cassima's eyes. It was a colossal castle that looked as if it was completely constructed out of snow and ice, with spires so pointed and cruel that the entire structure resembled a giant inverted icicle.

In front of the castle was a flat, round area that resembled a courtyard. Looking closer at the castle entrance, Cassima startled slightly to see two gray wolves sitting on either side of it. She then remembered that being a wolf herself, she had no reason to fear other wolves…not at the moment, at least.

She also remembered Ashni's remark about a queen living in the mountains with wolves for servants. If the girl's words were true, this had to be the queen's palace. Whoever this queen was, perhaps she could help.

Cassima carefully approached the castle, keeping an eye on the two wolf sentries. She suddenly noticed a third wolf lying silently beside a pile of boulders about halfway to the castle entrance. Cassima decided that she would be safer speaking to this wolf. She didn't think the sentries would be terribly eager to assist a stranger of their kind, especially a stranger with a green headdress decorated with diamonds and a sapphire.

She approached the lone wolf, who was a shade darker than the other two and considerably scruffier.

"Excuse me?"

She had no idea what she would sound like as a wolf, but surprisingly, she heard little difference between her wolf and human voices. This new mouth with its sharp teeth was a little challenging, however.

She suddenly wondered whether she was actually speaking in the language of a wolf or whether she was still talking with a human voice. Would this wolf notice this, and even if he did understand her, would she be able to understand him? Being in the shape of a wolf didn't necessarily mean being able to communicate with other wolves, did it?

The wolf calmly raised its head and looked at Cassima passively.

"Yes, friend?" it asked in a guttural, masculine tone. So she could understand their language. Thank goodness.

"Can you tell me whose fortress that is?"

"It is the palace of the queen, Icebella," the wolf replied. "She reigns over the mountains of Serenia. Many of us, the wolves, are her servants, and are glad to represent such a wise and powerful person as she. We guard her and carry out her orders. Two of her most highly trusted guardians sit at the entrance to the castle at this moment."

"Who are they?" Cassima asked, glancing at the two guardians as she did.

"The male is Sir Greywolf. The female is Lady Ghislain."

"Hmm," Cassima pondered, deciding not to expose her unwolfish naiveté by asking how to tell the two apart. "How do you serve the queen?"

"Frankly," the wolf said, shifting his position slightly, "I don't think I serve her at all. I serve no one, save myself."

"Then how is it that you know so much about Icebella and her kingdom?"

"Any wolf in these mountains knows about Icebella. I'm surprised that you don't know more about her than you do."

"Well…I'm an outsider."

"I can see that," the wolf said with a yawn. He let his head rest on his paws again, apparently sensing that the conversation had ended.

Cassima glanced at the two wolf guards again. They didn't seem hostile, but they didn't seem to be the friendly sort, either. Still, she had to get past them in order to speak with Icebella. If she couldn't tell Cassima where to look for Shadrack or who would know of his whereabouts, no one could.

"Sir Greywolf? Lady Ghislain?"

"How do you know us?" asked the wolf on the left warily. Judging by its slighter build and higher voice, Cassima deduced that it was Lady Ghislain. "We've never seen you before."

"I'm just passing through this area, but I need to see your ruler, Queen Icebella. I have heard of her, and I think she can help me with my predicament."

"So you know of our ruler, Queen Icebella?" growled Sir Greywolf in a gravelly tone.

"Yes, and I would be grateful to the both of you if I could have an audience with her, if you would be so kind."

Cassima hoped that she was making a convincing lupine. She had never even seen one in the flesh until now, so she wasn't exactly experienced in acting like one.

"Hmm," Sir Greywolf rumbled. "You speak like a trustworthy wolf…and I can smell no whiff of bad intentions on you either. But nevertheless, you are a foreigner, and unless you show us a sign of your allegiance to our people, we cannot allow you to enter."

A sign of allegiance? Cassima stepped back from the guards to think about this. What would a sign of allegiance to Queen Icebella be? Did she have anything that would be considered one?

Cassima pushed a paw underneath her headdress and immediately felt the crystal wolf statuette resting beneath it. She carefully withdrew it and examined it thoughtfully. Of course. She should have thought of it immediately.

Cassima turned around and nudged the statuette towards the guards; carrying it was almost impossible with her paws. Lady Ghislain's hazel eyes sparkled with wonder at the sight of the little sculpture.

"That is the sign of Icebella!" she gasped. "How did you come by that?"

"Well," Cassima replied awkwardly, "I'm afraid I can't really say…"

"Regardless of how you got it, we cannot disallow you an audience with her Majesty now," Sir Greywolf said firmly. He turned to his fellow guard.

"Ghislain, take her inside and allow her to speak with Icebella."

He then turned back to Cassima and put his nose considerably close to hers, close enough for her to feel his hot breath as he spoke in a much quieter voice:

"But let me remind you, dark stranger: our ruler's patience is short, and so will your conversation with her be. Since you are a wolf, she will probably accept you, but you are still a foreigner, and after your talk with her is over, you shall have to continue your journey. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir Greywolf," Cassima said as bravely as she could.

"Good. Follow Lady Ghislain into the throne room, then."

Lady Ghislain delicately stood up and padded into the castle, with Cassima close behind her.

The interior of the castle was just as icy and bleak as the exterior. Cassima followed Lady Ghislain through a series of corridors and passageways until they finally came to a colossal chamber which had to be the throne room. An enormous flight of stairs wildly wound their way upwards towards the domed ceiling, taking up almost all of the space in the room. A throne that appeared to have been carved completely out of ice sat at the top of these stairs, with enormous stalactites jutting outwards from the back of it, creating an effect like a snowy starburst. Upon this throne sat a pale-skinned figure clad in simple, yet elegant garments, looking down at Cassima with a stern – and yes, icy – gaze. There could be no doubt as to who this person – if indeed she was human at all – was.

"Black Sister, you are a stranger to the people of my domain," said Queen Icebella in a voice that seemed to fill the entire room. "Where do you come from, and why?"

Cassima shivered, both from the chill of the snowy palace and from the chill of her words. Still, it was too late to back out now.

"I come from a kingdom north of yours, my lady, and I am seeking the wizard Shadrack. Do you know of him?"

"Why would a wolf like you seek a wizard?" asked Icebella, sounding faintly amused. "You are a strange one."

"This is important, my queen. My loved one is suffering greatly, and his life may depend on my success in finding Shadrack!"

"I'm afraid I cannot sacrifice my time for a common stranger. If you have nothing more to say, I would advise you to leave."

It looked like Cassima was back at square one, but she simply couldn't admit defeat now. She had come too far to be turned away. There was only one way to get Icebella's attention. It was a risky one, but it was a chance Cassima was willing to take at this stage. She shut her eyes, steadied herself, and muttered the word "Andros". Immediately, she began changing shape, shedding her wolf form and gradually reverting back to the body she was born in – a human's. Ghislain leapt back, alarmed at what she had just witnessed, but Icebella remained as silent and expressionless as always.

"Queen Icebella," Cassima said, "I am not a wolf, but a member of royalty from the Land of the Green Isles, Queen Cassima. I became a wolf to withstand the harsh climate of this land, and also…to speak to you."

There was a heavy silence during which Cassima expected Ghislain to go for her throat or have Icebella command her to do so. Amazingly, neither happened.

"So you are more than I first saw you as," Icebella said reflectively. "Though I am sorry to say that I know nothing of this Shadrack."

"You don't?" Cassima asked, feeling as if a rug had been jerked out from under her. "You truly know nothing?"

"No. My only advice for you is to hunt for him in warmer lands."

"Warmer lands? What warmer lands?"

"That is for you to decide," said the frigid monarch. "Speak to the mountain dwellers to the east. They may be able to direct you further. I wish you luck. Lady Ghislain, escort Cassima to the falls. She should be able to find her way from there."

Before Cassima could say anything more, she felt wolf fur rubbing against her side, and she was obliged to follow Ghislain out of the throne room and through another series of tunnels and corridors before emerging into the blinding snow and harsh expanses of the Serenian mountains. Ghislain had led her out through a different doorway than the one they had entered the castle by. The she-wolf proceeded to lead Cassima across a precarious naturally formed bridge, along a snowy expanse and finally to an eroding path that led to a small waterfall cascading into a large pool several feet beneath the ledge they now stood upon.

Ghislain peered up at her with a mixture of curiosity and contemplativeness.

"I never would have thought you were a human in wolf's clothing until you did that trick back there, you know," she said.

"If that was a compliment, thanks, I suppose," Cassima replied.

"These are the falls that Queen Icebella spoke of," Ghislain said, pointing her nose in their direction. "Before I leave you, though, I want to give you something I've hidden here…"

She began sniffing, then pawing at the frozen turf, eventually uncovering a large rock which partially concealed something long, flat and yellow. The she-wolf pulled at it with her teeth for several seconds before completely liberating it from beneath the rock. Cassima picked up and examined the limp, stringy thing dubiously.

"It's a scarf…" Ghislain explained, "Well, more a rope than a scarf. A traveler less fortunate than you 'left' it here."

She chuckled hoarsely at this. Apparently wolves had a bizarre sense of humor when it came to death…they were predators, after all.

"Uh…thanks again," Cassima said uneasily.

"I don't know how you can stand the cold in those clothes, but that scarf should keep you from freezing," Ghislain said. "So long, stranger."

With that, she turned and trotted off, leaving Cassima alone with the sound of the falls in her ears and a ratty scarf in her hands.

Cassima contemplated the scarf as she walked on, towards the falls. Whoever knitted it must have gotten a bit carried away – it was at least fifteen feet long, and as Ghislain said, it was much more rope than scarf. It was much too rough and cold to wear, so Cassima merely tucked it away, hoping that it would come in handy later.

The path she was walking along came to a halt at the bottom of a rocky cliff face. At first, she seemed to have reached a dead end, but closer scrutiny revealed a tunnel at the base of the cliff. Cassima got down on her hands and knees and began crawling upwards, wincing as the cold sides of the tunnel touched her bare skin. This was the last time she went on an undetermined journey without adequate clothing. Her dress was going to be a frightful sight after this.

The tunnel sloped upwards at a sharp angle, and Cassima was just able to scramble out of the slippery thing to find herself standing atop the cliff, looking down at the falls, with Queen Icebella's castle in the distance. Turning around, however, provided her with a vastly different view.

There was a vast gap in the mountain range, with very little snow in sight. There were many smaller peaks below her, all of them quite barren and featureless. Nestled within the peaks, however, were several flat plateaus. Constructed atop several of these plateaus was a tiny village – the mountain dwellers. It had to be.

The village seemed a long way down, and the path that led down from the cliff Cassima was currently on seemed like a lengthy and somewhat perilous one, but at the moment it was her only option. At least the wind seemed much calmer on this side of the mountains, and even the sun seemed to shine a little brighter. Vigorously rubbing her arms, Cassima headed down the mountainside, heading for the village and whatever help it could provide her.

The path proved to be pretty harmless and manageable until Cassima encountered a sudden slippery spot. Fortunately, she had been directly above one of the plateaus at the moment and had slid down a fairly smooth snowy slope, but the landing on the hard, stony ground had nonetheless been quite unpleasant.

Cassima lay still for a minute or two, slightly stunned from the fall, and slightly bruised as well. After a while, she stiffly got to her feet, hoping her screaming hadn't frightened any of the villagers. She was now standing on one of the bald plateaus in a small circle of plain thatched huts. A long suspension bridge led to a neighboring plateau, and a shorter one led to a plateau some distance below the one she was currently on. That plateau seemed to be a place where the mountain dwellers allowed their livestock to graze. From what little she could see of the livestock from here, they appeared to be either sheep or goats.

As Cassima walked towards the center of the plateau, she noticed movement inside one of the huts. Deciding that deliberately avoiding contact with the natives would only be delaying the inevitable, Cassima entered the hut.

The inside of the hut was sparsely furnished. A gray mat that served as a bed lay on the floor, as did several small plain clay bowls and eating utensils. In the center of the hut stood a simple, yet elegant loom with a nearly finished tapestry on it, and the hut's sole resident – an elderly woman with gray hair that fell to her hips, clad in a plain brown dress with a thick wool collar – was sitting cross-legged in front of it. She turned her kindly, wrinkled face towards Cassima as she entered.

"Greetings, friend," she said in a reedy voice. "I don't recall seeing you before."

"That's because I've never visited this village until now. Who are you?"

"I am the weaver, at least that is what everyone calls me. I weave the wool of our sheep into cloth for myself and for everyone else in this village."

"That sounds like quite a daunting task," Cassima remarked, glad that this woman had welcomed her so readily.

"To those who come from larger villages, my profession would seem difficult. But there are only a few who live here, and I rarely have to weave more than one robe or tapestry a fortnight."

"I see."

Cassima excused herself and left the weaver's hut. As kind as the old woman was, she didn't seem like the sort who could give advice on where to find evil sorcerers. Perhaps someone else in this village would know.

Spotting another hut with movement within, Cassima entered it. This one had an interior furnished in much the same way the previous one was, minus the loom. Aside from the bowls, utensils, mat and folded clothing, there was a low wooden table with a pair of shears propped up against it, some dry herbs hanging from the ceiling, and a wooden staff leaning against the wall.

Sitting at the table and eating out of a bowl was a dark-haired man, wearing a coat made out of the same material as the weaver's, complete with the wool around the collar.

"Good day, sir," Cassima said politely. "Excuse me for walking in like this, uninvited."

"Oh, that's all right, miss," the man said, swallowing the food he had been chewing. "You are quite welcome here."

"Why, thank you. Are you the shepherd of this village?"

"How did you know?"

Cassima indicated the staff and the shears. The newly identified shepherd nodded in response.

"Yes, those are tools of the trade. My flock grazes in the field to the south…well, it is a field in our eyes, at least. I have a feeling that you have come here from lands greener and warmer than ours."

"You're right, shepherd. I have."

"Well, it's nice to meet a traveler…we don't get many up here. Feel free to visit me and anyone else in the village. I don't know of anyone that won't welcome you into their homes, my lady."

"Thank you," Cassima said. "But tell me, shepherd: who in this village would be the best person to see if I were seeking the wherabouts of someone capable of harming me and my family in the hopes of stopping such a person?"

The shepherd's expression turned grave for a moment.

"Though I don't know what would motivate you to chase after such an unpleasant-sounding character, the wiseman on yonder plateau is the one you should speak to."

Here he pointed east, and although Cassima couldn't see where he was pointing, she knew that he was referring to the plateau that the great bridge led to – the plateau that didn't have livestock grazing on it.

Thanking the shepherd again, she left his hut and made her way to the precarious rope-and-plank bridge. The thin pieces of wood bound together with frayed rope looked dangerous, but it was the only way to the plateau where the wiseman lived. As Cassima cautiously stepped from plank to plank, trying not to look down, she froze in horror to see that one of the bridge's boards was missing, leaving a huge gap that she didn't dare try crossing.

There has to be a way to repair that bridge, she thought as she returned to the village. Who would be the best person to ask about this? The shepherd wouldn't know anything about bridges, but the weaver…could she have spun the rope for the bridge? It was worth investigating. Cassima entered the weaver's hut and was about to ask her about the bridge when she noticed several planks with two holes bored in each end leaning against the hut's inner wall. They were exactly the same size as the planks of the bridge.

"Excuse me for asking, weaver, but what do you keep these wooden planks for?" Cassima asked.

The weaver once more slowly turned her shriveled, smiling face to the queen.

"I sometimes store them here for no reason except to keep them out of the snow. My hut is one of the best insulated from the weather, so the wiseman elected to have those planks kept in here. I also find them useful for winding yarn around."

"Could I please have one of these planks?"

The weaver's wrinkles drew themselves into a tight knot.

"Well…I don't think removing just one plank would be too disastrous…but still, I would appreciate it if you did something for me in return."

"And that is?"

"I am close to completing this tapestry, but I still require a tiny scrap of wool to spin into thread to finish it. Find me just a little bit of wool, and you may have one."

Remembering the sheep she had seen upon her arrival, Cassima left the hut and made her way south, across a smaller rope-and-plank bridge (which was thankfully in better repair than the one she had attempted to cross a short time ago), and onto a plateau that was slightly less barren than the one she had left. Tough grasses and twisted shrubs grew here and there, and several shaggy sheep stood about, grazing, tending to their young or just catching a brief nap before doing either of the aforementioned activities.

Cassima didn't want to pull a chunk of wool out of one of the sheep, and after finding several pieces of wool stuck on the branches of a nearby bush, she didn't need to, either. Triumphantly, she returned to the weaver and handed her the tangled material. The old woman took the wool with a grateful grin, informing Cassima that she was free to take one of the planks now, which Cassima did.

She then carefully made her way to the damaged part of the bridge. She had a plank, but no means to affix it to the bridge….or did she? Cassima searched her pockets and pulled out an end of the ropelike scarf she had gotten from Lady Ghislain. This might do the trick, she thought. She pulled out her dagger and cut several inches off of the scarf. Fortunately, since it was so long, even after she had cut another section off, she still had at least ten feet of scarf left over. She carefully knelt down across two of the bridge's planks and threaded one section of the ropy material through one end of the plank she was carrying. She then tied it to the bridge in the same way the other planks were tied, fixing it to the planks on either side of it as well as threading the two loose pieces of rope hanging from the frame of the bridge through it and knotting them. She did the same with the other end of the plank, and rose to her feet, confident that she had not only provided herself with a way to the plateau where the man who could advise her on where to look for Shadrack lived, but also done the village a favor by repairing their bridge.

Cassima placed one foot on the plank and her knots seemed to hold. She pressed down a little more firmly. Nothing happened. Finally, she gathered up her courage and stepped onto the plank. It supported her weight unflinchingly. With a sigh of relief and accomplishment, Cassima continued across the much-improved bridge, towards the next section of the village.

There was a cluster of huts on this plateau too, as well as a few scruffy tufts of grass. Despite the imposing pair of marble statues carved into the shape of sitting wolves in front of one of the huts, Cassima decided to enter the first unadorned dwelling she came to. Although she suspected that the hut with the statues belonged to the wiseman, it could just as easily belong to a representative of Icebella who strongly disapproved of the presence of foreigners.

The hut she walked into had three people in it. There was a heavily built, bearded man shaping a pot on a small stool in front of him, a young woman sitting on one of the two mats in the hut, and a tiny child clutched in her arms. Like the shepherd, the man and woman had the same dark, straight hair and tan skin. Judging by the vessel that the man was currently shaping, the large pile of clay beside him and the numerous pots sitting on the hut's floor, he was apparently the village potter. The sight of his wife and child aroused intense feelings of longing and emptiness within Cassima.

"Good day," she said politely. The potter looked up from his work and gazed with interest at Cassima.

"Good day to you," he said in a gruff, yet pleasant voice. "You are an outsider, are you not, my lady?"

"I am," Cassima replied.

"How astonishing," the potter's wife breathed, gazing at the queen with large, dark eyes. "I've never met a person from outside the village before! Except for…"

"Mind you don't let your tongue run off again, dearest," the potter chuckled.

"Of course," his wife said, checking herself and rocking her child gently. "We would offer you lodging here, visitor, but as you can see, we are already a little compromised for space."

"That's all right," Cassima said. "I'm not staying here, anyway. Tell me: where does the wiseman live?"

"Why," the potter replied, "His hut is the one with the twin wolves in front of its door. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," Cassima said, turning to leave.

"Did you journey all the way here just to speak with the wiseman?" the potter's wife asked, cocking her head to one side like a puzzled bird.

Cassima turned back to her.

"Well…yes."

The woman's wide eyes grew even bigger.

"My word," she breathed. "You must have something very important to talk with him about."

"Oh, I do," Cassima said, gazing back at the woman and her child and feeling that strange sensation rise within her again. "I do."

The interior of the wiseman's cabin was markedly different than those of the cabins she had recently visited. Aside from the predictable bowls and clothes, a brilliant red rug was spread inside the doorway, an elaborate stylized painting of Icebella was hung on one section of the wall, while a green coat woven out of an odd, coarse fiber which appeared to be missing a sleeve hung on another. There was also a finely crafted table with several books stacked upon it, the topmost one entitled Life, the Multiverse and Everything. Kneeling in front of a low stone table piled high with scrolls and papers was a man not much older than Cassima who nonetheless looked oddly mature for his age. He looked quite different from the other people in the village – he had tousled blonde hair, fair skin, an unshaven chin and square jaw, and he looked at the queen out of clear blue eyes. Despite his rugged appearance, there was something oddly regal about him that Cassima couldn't place. Was this really the wiseman?

"Greetings, fair maiden!" the blonde youth said, raising his left arm in a welcoming gesture. "I can see by your attire that you are not a resident of this village."

"You're right about that," Cassima smiled. "But who are you, sir?"

"I have been called many things in the time I've lived here. Some have called me teacher, others have called me advisor, some have even called me wiseman. You may call me any of those, or any other title you are inclined to use. As for myself, I call myself the resident leader of this village, mostly because nobody else feels they are worthy of such a title, and also because I was the only one who was considered worthy."

"Please pardon my curiosity," Cassima said, "But if I didn't know better, I'd say that you were just as foreign to this village as I."

"That is true, my lady," said the wiseman, nodding solemnly. "I am a foreigner to this village, but I've lived here long enough to become accepted…accepted as a leader, no less, though Icebella is the only true ruler of this icy realm. I suppose the best reason for this is because I know so much about the world outside this place that is so cut off from it…I'm like a swallow amongst the chickens, as one might put it."

"I see."

"Anyway, m'lady, you are welcome to stay in this village for as long as you need, and you may speak to me for whatever advice you may need. In fact, before you do anything else, come here, if you please."

Cassima approached the table, and with his left hand, the wiseman fished a pair of silver coins out of a pouch on the floor and handed them to her.

"It is customary to give travelers a small token of gratitude for braving these icy peaks just to come to this humble village," he explained. "Besides, as all those who live here know, silver matters little in a climate like this. It's not as if Icebella's servants are werewolves."

He grinned at his own joke, and so did Cassima.

"Well, thank you very much," she said, pocketing the coins.

In the brief time she had spoken to him, she had already grown fond of the youthful leader of the village. As she gazed at him, she gasped involuntarily as she realized that he didn't have a right arm – from the shoulder down, there was nothing but white feathers…a bird's wing.

"Er…wiseman, if you don't mind me asking…what happened to your arm?"

The wiseman glanced idly at the appendage in question.

"My arm?" he asked, clearing his throat with a touch of unease. "It's, uh…it's a sad business, my lady. I can stand telling it now, but unless you really want to hear…"

"I do."

The wiseman sighed, not in grief, but in a manner that suggested that what he was about to tell her wasn't his favorite story.

"Well…my father, who was the king of my homeland, accidentally married a witch when our mother died. She turned my ten older brothers and me into swans, and we were cursed to fly across the land by day, only to become men at night. Our sister was banished from the castle, but she found us many years later, far away from home.

"She learned of a way to break the enchantment placed upon us, and that was to weave each of us a coat of nettles and throw them upon our backs while we were in our swan shape. She couldn't let a word escape her lips while she was weaving, otherwise we would all remain swans forever.

"Even when she was accused of being a witch because of her strange behavior and her muteness and was sentenced to be executed, she kept on weaving. And just before she was killed, we came to her and she threw the coats upon us, and she was finally able to speak and prove her innocence…except…"

Here he pointed to the odd fibrous coat hanging on the wall.

"…She didn't finish mine."

"Oh…" Cassima said softly. "I'm so sorry..."

"Oh, don't worry your head about it," the wiseman said gently, smiling again. "I've learned to live with this thing."

He spread his swan's wing, then drew it in to his chest. He examined it and smirked.

"And they say the youngest sons always are the luckiest," he remarked.

Cassima was amazed at the man's contentment in spite of his odd deformity. He wasn't bitter, sad, or even ashamed of it. He seemed to regard his wing as nothing more than a minor embarrassment, like a long nose or a large pair of ears. To live here far away from his family and homeland was one thing, but to spend the rest of his life with a wing instead of an arm…what spirits this man must have had to remain so cheerful despite the circumstances.

"How did you wind up here, wiseman?" Cassima inquired. "Your father was a king, so you are a prince, are you not? Why don't you have a kingdom of your own?"

The wiseman chuckled.

"You think that eleven princes would all be able to find kingdoms with vacant thrones? I think not. Besides, my oldest brother naturally was the heir to my father's kingdom."

"So you chose to live here, as the leader of this tiny mountain village?"

"Don't forget, I was a swan for about a quarter of my entire life. My brothers and I traveled all over the world, exploring places that humans have never been. I guess I've grown a little attached to places like this…that's why I live here, I suppose."

He shrugged, ruffling the feathers of his wing slightly.

"…Though I must say, it's been a bit difficult for the weaver to fashion coats for me."

Cassima managed to stifle a laugh. The wiseman's kindly demeanor had almost made her forget the purpose of her mission. Recalling it, she addressed the village leader in a much more formal tone:

"I have something of great importance that I need to ask you, wiseman."

"You want me to help you?" the wiseman asked.

"Yes, sir. It's urgent."

"Well, the code of this village prohibits me from revealing any information to foreigners unless they display a token of trust. Show me a sign of trust, and I will tell you whatever you need to know."

It only took a moment's contemplation to unravel the mystery of what the wiseman wanted. Cassima handed him the crystal wolf statuette.

"Here. This is the symbol of Queen Icebella. I presume you recognize it?"

"Indeed I do, my lady," the wiseman nodded, placing the statuette on his table. "Ask me whatever you need to know, and I will answer you as best as I can."

"Good. I am looking for a dark sorcerer named Shadrack. I believe that he might be in a position to harm my family and I need to find and apprehend him as soon as possible."

The wiseman nodded soberly, all the lightheartedness and humor gone from his face.

"You are a brave woman," he said quietly. "You remind me of my sister. How I wish I could visit her as easily as I could when…oh well. I shouldn't dwell on the past."

He fell silent for a moment, his brow furrowed as he seemed to be momentarily lost in a miasma of thought.

"The being you are looking for can move as easily as a bird, and twice as swiftly," he finally said. "You won't find him in this land."

"No? Then where?"

"The shortest way is a perilous one…but if you do not go that way, you may never catch up with him. He covers his tracks well."

He rose to his feet and began walking towards the doorway.

"Come with me," he said, beckoning to Cassima, who obediently followed him out of the cabin, across the plateau and down a flight of carved stone steps that led to a large, barren plateau with no structures or plants of any kind on it. It appeared to be a place reserved for festivals or councils, though its unprotected location didn't make it the ideal place for such events.

Once they had reached the edge of this bare formation, the wiseman pointed eastward with his wing, towards the distant mountains.

"You see that over there?"

Cassima followed his wing and noticed a sizeable gap between two of the peaks. Between them and far away, something glittered brightly in the midday sun.

"This is one of the few places in this part of the mountains where you can see the ocean. It is far away, but at least you can see it. Not being able to see where you are headed is something that has beaten many a man with a journey to take."

"But I still don't know what my destination is," Cassima protested.

"As I said," the wiseman explained, lowering his wing, "It is a risky one…but if you keep going straight that way, straight as an arrow through those peaks and to the east…you should arrive there."

"Arrive where?" Cassima asked, growing a bit tired of the wiseman's enigmatic directions.

"Well…to tell you the truth, I'm not so certain myself. I know that this individual you seek is in a land that is to the east of this one, but I know neither the name of the land nor its exact location."

"Great," Cassima muttered. "So I'm stuck here, then."

The wiseman suddenly took hold of her hand – with his left hand, of course.

"I don't think so, my lady," he said, his icy blue eyes locked into hers. "I've been in these peaks long enough to learn some of the wisdom of the rocks and snow. I can feel that you will find the right way. Something or someone will tell you which land to go to."

He released her hand, raised his swan's wing, looked at it and smiled that same innocent, gentle smile of his.

"Believe me, my lady…I may be a bird-brained wanderer at heart…but I just know…you have it in you."

He touched the center of her chest with the very tip of his wing as he spoke these last words, just below her collarbone. Cassima felt a small shiver race through her at the feeling of those pure white feathers against her clothing, which looked so delicate yet were in actuality so strong. The wiseman withdrew his wing, nodded, then walked off, back towards the village. Cassima silently watched him leave.

She was silent for a moment, pondering what had just taken place. What did the wiseman mean when he said "you have it in you?" How was she going to make it to that land he said Shadrack was in? What land was he in?

As she tried to work out answers to these questions and formulate something that at least resembled a logical plan, she found her mind wandering, and eventually finding its way back to a subject that she had almost forgotten in the confusion of her journey.

Edgar. That man she had met at the Edge of the World. The one who was wearing a pendant identical to her own.

She pulled the odd object out of her clothing and examined it as she thought about him. Why did that name seem so familiar to her? Why had they appeared in the same place? Who was he?

As these thoughts churned heavily in her head, the pendant in her hand suddenly began glowing, and before she could drop it in surprise, the image of a man's head appeared in front of her, and it belonged to the very man she had been thinking of.

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