Ch. 9: The Wild Man of Winsted

(Return to Arheled)

           Lara  Midwinter  saw  the  man  in  brown.

           She  rushed  to  get  permission  to  go  on  break  and  punch  out,  but  by  the  time  she  had  thrown  on  a  coat  and  hurried  out,  he  was  gone. There had  been  someone  with  him,  it  looked  like,  but  she  couldn’t  remember  what  he  looked  like  or  who  it  had  been.

           “Shoot!”  she  fumed.

           There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  head  back  inside  and  fix  up  a  free  cheeseburger  for  break,  and  hopefully  eat  it  in  peace  before  Brandan  noticed  she  was  free  and  glued  himself  next  to  her. She had  to  work  late  tonight  and  it  was  bitterly  cold  out. Why it  was  below  zero  in  the  middle  of  February  she  had  no  idea;  normally  bitter  weather  had  the  decency  to  let  up  by  now.

           “I  like  winter,  but  this  is  ridiculous.”  she  muttered  as  she  put  extra  cheese  and  four  paddies  on  her  bun. Her youngest  siblings  had  a  perfect  network  of  tunnels  in  the  huge  snowpiles,  and  all  of  them  went  sledding  now  and  then,  but  the  deep  snow—waist-deep  if  you  broke  through  the  crust—was  making  her  feel  caged.

           She  was  right  about  Brandan. She had  managed  to  finish  her  burger  in  peace  before  he  came  out  with  a  damp  rag  and  Widex  to  do  the  tables,  and  when  he  got  over  to  hers  she  kept  her  eyes  down  and  put  on  a  forbidding  expression. It worked  well  enough  to  keep  him  polishing  the  same  circle  of  tables  over  and  over  while  he  worked  up  nerve.

           “Hey,  Lara,  um  would  you—“

           “No.”  she  said  without  even  looking  up.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Aw,  Lara,  you  didn’t  even  hear  what  I  was  going  to  say!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Whatever  you  say  to  me  is  usually  a  prelude  to  asking  me  out.”  she  said  quietly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Well,  as  a  matter  of  fact  I  was  going  to  ask  if  you  were  busy  next  week—“

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “For  Valentine’s  Day.”  she  finished. “Look. Brandan, I  think  it’s  time  I  stopped  being  polite  and  had  a  serious  word  with  you.  I am  not  interested.  I  don’t  even think  I  like  you. I want  to  be  on  good  terms  with  you  so  I  can  work  in  peace  in  your  vicinity,  but  you’re  making  it  very  difficult. So, please,  stop  asking  me  out  and  stick  to  small  talk.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  sure,  I  mean  I  don’t  want  to  get  on  your  bad  side,  but  can’t  you  even  give  me  a  chance? I mean,  look,  is  it  the  way  I  behave  or  am  I  too  obnoxious,  I  mean  can  you  tell  me  what  I  could  do  for  you  to  even  consider  me?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  felt  like  banging  her  head  on  the  table. Why did  God  make  guys  so  dumb? She kept  her  temper  and  drew  a  deep  breath. “Look. Can you  do  me  a  huge  favor,  Brandan? If I  ask  you  to  do  something  for  me,  would  you  do  it?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’d  do  anything.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Good.”  said  Lara. “I would  really  appreciate  it  if  you  gave  me  a  little  time  to  myself. Maybe for  a  couple  of  months  you  could  just  stick  to  ‘Hi’  and  ‘Goodbye”  and  not  try  any  conversation  at  all. I’m sure  there  are  other  girls  who  would  love  having  you  smile  at  them. Have you  tried  asking  Heather  out?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Heather? But…” She  could  see  it  beginning  to  sink  in.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  Heather. I think  she  kinda  likes  you.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh. Never thought  about  it. But, yeah,  I  can  do  what  you  said. If you’ll…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No.”  she  said. “Your best  hope  with  me  is  to  leave  me  alone  for  a  few  months. Can you  do  that?” “Sure, of  course  I  can.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Good. Oh, I  think  I  see  Eric. You’d better  get  the  other  tables  before  he  comes  out  here.”  She  smiled  with  satisfaction  at  seeing  him  scoot  off  at  top  speed  to  the  unfinished  tables.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Heather  was  a  little  surprised  when  Lara  talked  to  her. “Brandan? You think  he  likes  me? But I  thought  he  was  going  after  you!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “He  was,  a  little.”  said  Lara. “But I  turned  him  down  for  Valentine’s  Day  so  he’s  feeling  all  blue. Be a  nice  girl  and  cheer  him  up,  would  you,  so  he’ll  get  off  my  back?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Sure,  girl,  be  glad  to.”  said  Heather. “Nobody’s asked  me  out  for  Valentine’s  Day  yet,  and  he  might  even  be  fun.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Thank  you  so  much.”  smiled  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Dark  fell  and  the  madness  of  the  supper  hour  passed. Brandan was  throwing  French fries  at  Heather  who  was  returning  fire  with  a  vengeance  and  James  was  bent  over  laughing  while  Lara  frantically  tried  to  keep  the  dirty  missiles  from  landing  in  the  food. Then they  finished  their  shift  and  the  evening  crew  came  in,  several  young  Hispanics  who  jabbered  Spanish  most  of  the  time. Lara started  the  clean-up process  and  got  the  trash  ready  to take  to  the  dumpster. She bundled  up  for  that,  even  though  it  was  right  outside  the  back  door.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  dumpster  was  inside  a  fenced  stockade,  open  on  the  drive-thru  side,  hedged  with  streetlights. Lara opened  the  wooden  gate  and  trundled  the  grey  bin  over,  then  threw  the  bags  in. She paused,  ignoring  the  clear  icy  bite  of  the  air  and  staring  up  at  the  stars. Colder and  larger  in  the  clear iron  air  they  seemed,  despite  the  streetlamps  scattered over  the  parking  lot. She gazed,  entranced,  at  the  blue  whiteness  of  the  jewel-like  lights. They seized  her  with  unutterable  longing  and  intolerable  sorrow,  pulsing  and  flickering. She stepped  away  from  the  dumpster.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           One  of  the  white parking-lot  lamps  went  out. The stars  glared  even  brighter,  frozen  eyes  glittering  down on  her  as  she  stared  up  at  them,  breath  wisping  and  curling  about  her  face  and  condensing  like  dew  on  scarf  and  eyelids. One group like  a  diamond-shaped  kite  with  a  downward  tail  pendant  from  one  corner  hung  right  above  her,  riding  up  the  heavens. More of  the  lamps  went  out,  and  even  the  lights  in  the  restaurant  behind  her,  so  that  McDonald’s  was  plunged  in  sudden  darkness  like  it  was  supposed  to  be,  instead  of  fencing  it  out  frantically  like  an island  of  neon  white. In the  increased  clarity  she  could  see  that  the  Kite  was  the  center  of  something  else,  a  great  manlike  figure  with  legs  and  a  belt  of  three  stars  and  a  fuzzy-tipped  knife  or  something  hanging  downward  from  his  tunic. His arms  held  a  bow—yes,  there  were  the  two  stars  at  its’  horns  and  another  where  the  arrow  would  nock,  and  a  cluster  of  several  close  together  to  make  the  arrowhead—

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “His  name  is  the  Herald.”  said  the  man  in  brown.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  thought  that  was  Orion.”  she  said  dreamily.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oromë  is  the  Hunter,  and  he  does  not  walk  the  skies.”  said  Brown. “From the  first  launching  of  the  new  Stars  the  Herald  was  there, as  a  sign  and  foreboding  to  the  end  of  days. Aever he  is  called,  and  Menelmacar  the  Swordsman,  and  many  other  names. They will  tell  you  the  constellations  are  random  groups  of  stars,  but  how  does  it  come  they  are  grouped  in  such  manner?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  stars  they  are  calling.”  murmered  Lara. “Who were  they? What happened  to  them?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That  you  will  not  learn until  you  come  to  Temple  Fell.”  answered  Brown.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  started,  tearing  her  eyes  from the  stars  and  staring  at  him. “That’s a  real  place? Where is  it?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“I saw  a  peacock  with  a  fiery  tail, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  a  crimson  sky  droppit  down  hail, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  a  cloud  circled  with  ivy  around, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  a  sturdy  oak  creep  on  the  ground ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  a  pismire  swallow  a  whale ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  a  raging  sea  brimful  of  ale ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  a Venice  glass  sixteen  foot  deep ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  a  well  full  of  men’s  tears  that  weep ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  their  eyes  all  in  a  flaming  of  fire ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  a  Hill  big  as  the  Moon  and  far  higher ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  the  Sun  in  the  midst  of  the  night ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I saw  the  man  that  beheld  all  this  sight.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  stared  with  brilliant  eyes  at  the  terrible  face  of  the  Man  in  Brown. As his  thunderous  voice  rolled  away  in  the  hills,  she  managed  to  say,  “What  is  a  pismire? And why  ivy?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “A  pismire  is  an  ant,  for  they  crawl  in  the  mud.”  said  Brown. “And of  old  this  town  was  named  Ivytown,  for  the  ivies  that  bury  the  hills.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There’s  no  ivy  anywhere  except  by  old  houses…unless  you  mean  poison  ivy.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  mean  laurel.”  said  Brown. “Because it  often  is  low  and  crawling  in  these  lands,  men  called  it  ivy. Look to  the  stars,  Lara  Midwinter,  but  do  not  entirely  forget  the  peril  of  the  ground.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           And  as  he  spoke  the  lights  flickered  back  on  and  Lara  saw  with  no  surprise  that  the  parking  lot  was  empty.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  went  back  in  to  find  everyone  in  a  tizzy  over  the  brief  blackout. Fortunately the  damage  was  soon  fixed  and  the  machines  were  back  on  line,  and  so  the  time  came  when  she  got  out. It turned  out  there  were  two  more  bags  to  take  out  and  Lara  grumbled  as  she  lugged  them  out  the  back  door. But she  froze,  when  she  heard  the  sound  of  rustling  coming  from  the  dumpster.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  hope  it’s  not  a  bear.”  she  thought,  edging  over  to  get  a  better  view. Though if  it  was  a  tramp  that  wasn’t  much  better;  men  were  more  dangerous  and  unpredictable  than  any  bear.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  was  a  tramp. A tall  skinny  man  in  blue  jeans  was  bent  over  so  far  as  he  rummaged  inside  the  side  opening  that  his  face  was  concealed. Lara didn’t  know  what  to  do. She didn’t  want  to  get  him  in  trouble  by  telling  the  manager,  and  she  couldn’t  very  well  let  him  keep rummaging  the  trash. As it  turned  out  she  didn’t  have  to  worry  about  interrupting:  he  turned  and  saw  her. She found  she  was  staring. A wild  grey  beard  sprayed  out  from  a  powerful,  lined  face  with  blue  eyes  that  gleamed  with  a  sort  of  innocent  brightness.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You—shouldn’t  be  doing  that.”  she  said  awkwardly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  blue  eyes  lit like  a  child’s. “But there’s  such  good  stuff  in  here!”  he  said,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  both  old  and  hoarse  at  the  same  time. He had  a  sports  jacket  of  dull  green  and  grey  plaid  and  wore  no  hat. He held  up  no  less  than  six  wrapped  hamburgers  she’d  somehow  not  managed  to  set  aside  when  she  emptied  the  trash. “See! Here’s half  a meal  already!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s—not  healthy.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh  come,  don’t  tell  me  you  don’t  secretly  pluck  these  goodies  when  you  have  a  chance!”  he  said  reprovingly. He rummaged  some  more. “Look, a  whole  bunch  of  cold  paddies! Isn’t it  wonderful? And here’s  half  a  pie!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  can  you  please  get  out  of  there? I’m afraid  you’ll  get  me  in  trouble.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why,  would  that  be  so  bad?”  he  retorted,  busily  stuffing  his  thrown-out  food  into  a  green  cloth  bag.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  don’t  think  I’m  allowed  to  let  people  rummage  through  there.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  I  thought  you  hated  your  job.”  he  said,  stuffing  half  a  beef  wrap  that  somebody  else  had  started  eating,  into  his  bearded  mouth. “At least,  that’s  what  your  dad  tells  me.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  blinked. “You—know me?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  but  you  don’t  know  me. Not surprising,  really. I’m a  dirty  little  secret. Dirty secret. Until I  wash  my  hands,  and  then  I’ll  be  a  clean  secret.”  He  stuffed  the  bag  into  a  large  backpack. “Ask your  dad  about  me  sometime. Ask him  about  your  Uncle  Peter.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  guess  I  will.”  said  Lara. “You’re not  homeless,  are  you?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No,  no,  I  sleep  down  at  the  Y  shelter. While I’m  in  town. Let me  see,  you’re  the  eldest  one  home?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  actually  I  am. Then there’s  Lilac…Daniel…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  the  remainder  of  the  Nine.”  said  Uncle  Peter. “When the  hundredth  year  comes,  something  must  be  passed  to  the  eldest  heir  of  Midwinter.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  are  you  talking  about?”  said  Lara. “Do you  mean  an  inheritance? Or is  it  some  clause  of  a  will  or  something?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  you  don’t  know,  then? I’m not  surprised. No sir,  I’m  not  surprised  at  all. Or perhaps  I  should  say  No,  miss. The eldest  Midwinter  of  my  line  must  give  the  eldest  sister  of  nine  a  threefold  riddle,  and  she  will  know  the  answer. So my  father  Heden  Midwinter  told  me  as  he  lay  dying,  as  he  passed  on  the  watch  that  is  our heritage.”  He  pulled  out  an  old  pocketwatch,  antique  and  intricate. It was  ticking  loudly. He slipped  it  back.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           His  face  seemed  to  freeze,  the  half-childish  brightness  draining  out  of  it. He drew  himself  up  and  a  mantle of  authority  and  dignity  seemed  to  be  pulled  about  him. His face  was  like  hewn  stone,  his  eyes  austere  as  ice. “Are you  ready  to  hear  the  first  riddle,  Lara  eldest  of  Nine  of  the  house  of  Midwinter?” His  voice  had  changed  too:  it  rang  like  that  of  Brown.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  am.”  said  Lara. Her own  spine  seemed  to  stiffen  itself. She met  his  remote  stare  with  hers.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Then  say  I,  Peter  son  of  Heden  who  lived  to  greet  the  Road,  eldest  of  the  house  of  Midwinter  at  one  hundred  years  and  four,  the  first  riddle  of  three:

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  is  the  sign  of  the  head  of  the  Herald? ''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  stared  at  him,  cold  washing  through  her.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  will  return  to  you  on  the  third  night  from  now  and  receive  then  your  answer. If you  cannot  answer,  then  both  of  us  will  die,  and  the  line  of  Midwinter  will  perish.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Quite  abruptly  the  cloak  of  power  evaporated. The tall  man  drooped  and  his  bright  old-man  eagerness  returned  to  his  blue eyes.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Well,  that’s  that!”  he  said  cheerfully. “And now  I’ll  head  off  to  someplace  out  of  the  wind,  like  the  library  doorway,  and  have  a  feast. Well, goodbye  Lara,  and  give  my  best  to  your  Dad!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Are  you  really  a  hundred  and  four?”  she  said  curiously. “I must  say,  you  don’t  look  it.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  the  men  of  my  side  of  the  family  age  well.”  Uncle  Peter  chuckled,  fitting  on  his  backpack.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  said  we  would  die. What do  you  mean?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  mean  what  I  mean  when  I  said  I  would  mean.”  the  old  man  cackled  and  strode  off  into  the  night.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  Herald.”  muttered  Lara. She turned  around  and  looked  up  at  the  sky,  but  clouds  had  covered  the  stars  and  the  archer  was  concealed.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           When  she  got  home  she  headed  to  the  living  room  where  her  dad  was  reading  a  police  brochure  he  was  going  to  distribute  to  his  staff. He served  as  police  captain  in  Barkhamsted.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad,  who  is  Uncle  Pete?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mr. Midwinter looked  up. “Pete? Oh no.  Where  did  you  see  him?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Just  answer  me. Who is  he?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “He’s  actually  your  great-great-uncle  or  something. Where did  you  meet  him?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  gave  a  frustrated  sigh. “When I  got  out  of  work. Now, who  is  he? And why  have  I  never  heard  about  him?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mrs. Midwinter came  in  at  this  moment  and  beckoned  Lara  into  the  kitchen. “Don’t bother  your  dad  right  now.”  she  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  sat  down  and  folded  her  arms,  arching  her  eyebrows. “Do you  know  Uncle  Pete,  Mom?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mrs. Midwinter’s eyes  were  the  same  blank  blue  as  ever  behind  her  glasses,  but  there  was  a  frightening  appearance  about  them  now. Lara had  only  seen  her  mom  like  this  when  she  was  angry  about  something. “Your father’s  family  has  an  odd  sort  of  streak  on  one  side. Some kind  of  insanity,  or  something. Sometimes they  just  become  harmless  eccentrics,  but  once  or twice  they’ve  gotten  dangerous. It seems  to  affect  the  eldest  son  of  the  previous  eccentric,  every  time.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So  Uncle  Peter  is—not  all  there?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “He’s  a  tramp!”  hissed  Mrs. Midwinter. “He never  works,  except  now  and  again  to  get  money  when  his  cans  don’t  net  him  enough. He raids  dumpsters  and  eats  out  of  the  garbage. He camps  in  the  woods,  and  in  winter  he  goes  to  shelters.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Is  he  really  a  hundred  and  four?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mrs. Midwinter nodded. “But don’t  be  fooled. The ones  who  suffer  from  this—mad  streak—are  very  vigorous  and  often  live  past  a  hundred  and  twenty. Pete’s father  Heden,  from  what  I  heard,  had  Pete  when  he  was  a  hundred  and  one!  Look,  honey,  he may  seem  harmless,  but  I  really  don’t  want  you  talking  to  him. You don’t  want  your  father  to  have  him  arrested,  do  you?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “He  said  that  he  had  a  threefold  riddle  he  had  to  pass  to  me.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  not  that  nonsense!”  Mrs. Midwinter  exclaimed. “Pete goes  on  about  that  every  time  we  run  into  him. He won’t  tell  us  what  they’re  about,  because  it’s  never  the  right  year  for  it,  but  he  insists  it’s  some  crazy  family  tradition. I hope  you  didn’t  mention  that  to  your  father!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mr. Midwinter insisted  on  driving  Lara  to  work  the  next  day. He refused  to  talk  about  his  disreputable  uncle,  other  than  to  sternly  forbid  Lara  to  talk  or  even  go  near  him. “You do  believe  in  a  parent’s  authority,  don’t  you?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Within  reason.”  said  Lara. “You can’t  force  me  to  do  wrong,  you  know. But anything  else,  I  have  to  obey  you.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Then  you  are  not  allowed  to  talk  to  him. Period.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  hoped  her  strange  relative  would  have  the  sense  to  stay  away  for  a  little  while,  and  it  seemed  he  did,  for  she  saw  no  sign of  him. The clouds  remained,  and  it  was  actually  a  little  warmer  as  well. Lara looked  up  hopefully  at  the  evening  sky  when  she  got  out  of  work,  but  only  a  few  drifting  snowflakes  met  her  eyes. The next  day—despite  the  weatherman  saying  it  would  be  in  the  30s—it  flurried  off  and  on  far  into  the  night,  and  it  was  cold. The third  day  came  with  breaks  in  the  clouds  and  a  bleak  wind  coming  cold  out  of  the  south-west,  and  Lara  had  the  evening  shift. Dark fell,  and  she  got  the  trash  ready  with  some  trepidation. Brandan tried  to  be  a  gentleman  and  get  it  for  her  until  she  snapped  his  head  off  and  he  retired  offended  to  continue  bantering  with  Heather. She opened  the  back  door  and  looked  hopefully  up. Stars showed  fitfully  through  ragged  gaps  in  the  purple-grey  clouds,  but  pinpointing  the  Herald  was  impossible. Her dad  was  out  there  in  the station  wagon,  half  an  hour  early,  hopefully  with  the  heater  on. She opened  the  fence  and  started  heaving  in  bags.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Psst! Lara, don’t  look  over. I’m behind  the  dumpster. Your dad’s  kind  of  staking  you  out, so  be  careful.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Uncle  Peter,  you  better  get  out  of  here  fast.”  said  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Do  you  have  the  answer?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’m  not  allowed  to  talk  to  you,  Uncle. Period. Dad really  put  his  foot  down.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           There  was  a  chuckle  from  behind  the  dumpster. “Did he  now. Pity he’s  a  cop;  they  have  to  stare  at  the  ground  so  often  they  forget  what  up  means. Can you  give  me  his  exact  words.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  heaved  in  another  bag  as  she  thought. “He got  really  formal. Something like  ‘I  forbid  you  from  any  communication  in  any  form  with  your  Uncle  Peter.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dennis  may  despise  the  tradition,  but  he  certainly  plays  by  its’  rules.”  muttered  the  voice  behind  the  dumpster. “That counts,  I  guess,  as  being  unable  to  answer,  and  with  these  clouds  you  couldn’t  have  in  any  case. We have  another  three  days. I will  find  you  then,  and  even  if  you  can’t  communicate  with  me,  find  the  answer. Our lives  depend  on  it.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  was  about  to  demand  an  explanation  of  this,  but  a  glance  at  her  dad’s  car  showed  he  was  getting  ready to  come  see  what  was  taking  her  so  long,  and  she  hastily  dumped  the  last  bag  and  headed  inside.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  next  three  days  were  intermittently  cloudy. Lara was  anxious. Then in  the  evening,  as  she  was  getting  ready  to  punch  out,  the  sky  cleared  as  if  someone  had  swept  it  with  an  enormous  broom,  and  blue  moonlight  flooded  the  white  forest. James had  beaten  her  to  the  trash,  to  her  frustration, but  Dad  had  finally  let  her  drive  in  by  herself. She headed  out  to  the  car  and  glanced  quickly  around  the  dark-blue,  icelike  heaven. Near the  waxing  moon  few  stars appeared,  but  upon  his  back  the  Herald  lay  some  way  to  the  east  of  the  moon,  well  above  the  horizon. She stared  hard. There was  his  bow—so  that  had  to  be  a  hand  and  an  elbow—but  where  the  head  should  be,  the  sky  was  empty. No stars.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Uncle  Pete  rose  up  from  behind  a  parked  car. From the  red  and  runny  look  of  his  nose  he’d  been  outside  most  of  the  day. A scarf  was  pulled  over  his  mouth,  white  with  ice. “Do you  have  the  answer?”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Before  Lara  could  speak,  Mr. Midwinter came  galloping  from  another  car  she  hadn’t  noticed,  and  got between  them. “Lara, get  in  the  car.”  he  said. “Let me  handle  this.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad,  please. It’s all  right.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No,  it  is  not  all  right. I warned  you  this  morning,  Peter:  stay  away  from  my  daughter. If you  don’t  turn  around  and  leave,  right  now,  I’ll  haul  you  in  for  criminal  trespass  on  restaurant  property,  and  file  a  harassment  complaint  as  well.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ah, you  think  you  can  somehow  single-handedly  stifle  me  from  passing  on  her  inheritance,  Dennis? The Road  is  mightier  than  you  are.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  have  till  the  count  of  three. Onetwothree!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Uncle  Peter  paid  him no  heed. He was  staring  into  Lara’s  eyes. “Do as  you  wish,  nephew,”  he  said,  “but  she  knows  the  answer  to  the  first  riddle.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mr. Midwinter took  a  single  stride  right  up  to  him. “I told  you  a  hundred  times  I  don’t  hold  with  your  superstition. I gave  you  your  warning. Now you’re  under  arrest,  and  it  is  my  duty  to…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Please,  Dennis,”  the  old  man  said  gently,  “Unsay  that. Stand aside. Release the  chains  you  put  on  your  daughter. You are  messing  with  powers  you  cannot  comprehend.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Dennis  Midwinter  pulled  a  pair  of  handcuffs  from  his  pocket.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">            Peter  Midwinter  whirled  and  ran.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Dennis  Midwinter  gave  chase. To her  dismay  Lara  saw  he  was  drawing  his  handgun. “Freeze! Stop right  now  or  I’m  shooting!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Peter  Midwinter  stopped  in  his  tracks. Lara watched  in  stunned  dismay  as  her  dad  put  the  handcuffs  on  the  old  man’s  wrists  and  marched  him  over  to  the  unmarked  police  car  that  was  parked  in  the  gas  station  next  door. It was  like  watching  a  movie  where  everything  was  going  wrong  and  she  couldn’t  stop  it,  any  more  than  a  movie. Dejectedly she  got  in  her  car  and  drove  home.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  guard  room  at  the  front  of  police  headquarters  at  the  county  jail  was  dull  and  felt  closed  and  stale. Officer Mac  Byron  yawned  and  put  his  feet  on  the  desk;  partly  to  stretch  and  partly  to  annoy  his  partner  who  was  doing  paperwork. Bernie Keegan  loved  reports  and  was  up  to  his  nose  in  one  regarding  the  new  bird  in  Cell  Nine. Some kind  of  harassment  complaint,  charges  of  criminal  trespass  filed  by  the  bird’s  own  nephew. Pete Midwinter  had  been  in  here  before,  mostly  for  criminal  trespass;  being  a  repeat  offender  he  might  very  well  not be  going  home  for  a  while. Byron considered  him  harmless,  but  Captain  Midwinter  had  connections. At least  he’d  have  a warm  bed  and  meals;  being  homeless  he  probably  didn’t  get  either  as  often  as  he  should.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Bernie,  don’t  you  ever  get  the  urge  to  go  home?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Naw,  our shift  don’t  end  for  another  hour  and  it’s  only  10  PM.”  Bernie  said  absently. Then he  looked  up  and  stared  at  his  partner’s  feet  pointedly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Just  need  to  relax.”  Byron  mumbled.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  know  Dennis  was  grouching  about  the  scuff  marks  on  your  desk.”  reminded  Bernie.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  door  at  the  end  of the  corridor  gave  a  queer  sound  and  then  opened. Byron swung  his  feet  down  with  some  interest,  and  even  Bernie  looked  up. Both of  them  stared  with  bulging  eyes. The fantastic  triangular  coat—no,  cloak;  it  didn’t  have  sleeves—its’  margin  tattered,  the  wild  black  hair,  long  and  streaming  about  face  and  shoulders,  an  equally  long  and  wild  beard  upon  his  chest,  of  the  towering  figure  that  stood  in  the  hall,  was  enough  to  make  anyone  stare. Under the  huge  icy  cloak  he  wore  an  old  coat  and  blue  jeans. His eyes  were  brown  as  earth,  of  a  startling  deep  brightness.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  uncouth  figure  paused  at  the  open glass  window. Bernie was  there  already:  good,  dependable  Bernie,  you  didn’t  need  to  tell  him  what  to  do. Byron eased  out  the  side  door  into  the  connecting  passage  and  held  its’  door  ajar,  ready  to  spring  from  behind  it  if  the  wild  figure  needed  subduing.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Can  I  help  you,  sir?”  said  Bernie  in  the  inimitable  cop  manner,  that makes  the  words  sound  more  like  a  challenge  than  a  genuine  wish  to  help.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’m  here  to  see  Peter  Midwinter.”  the  weird  figure  said. He had  a  voice  as  rough  and  uncouth  as  his  appearance;  it  was  like  hearing  the  ground  speak.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’m  sorry,  sir,  but  I’m  afraid  access  to  Mr. Midwinter has  been  blocked  until  further  notice  while  the  captain  is  looking  into  his  case. Now, I’m  going  to  have  to  ask  you  to  leave.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Are  you  denying  him  from  me?”  the  rough  stranger  said  in  a  deep  growl.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You’re  an  extremely  suspicious  character,  sir,  and  in  any  case  visiting  hours  have  been  over  for  some  time. Now, I’ll  ask  you  once  more  to  leave,  or  you  will  be  forcibly  escorted  outside.”  At  this  juncture  Byron  came  smoothly  out  from  concealment  and  got  between  the  stranger  and  the  door  to  the  cells,  folding  his  arms  and  looking big  and  intimidating. And he  was  plenty  of  both.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Take  me  to  Peter  Midwinter.”  the  stranger  said  to  Byron.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’m  sorry,  sir,  but  you’ve  been  asked  to  leave  and  we’ll  have  to  escort  you  out.”  said  Byron. He grabbed  the  stranger’s  upper  arm  in  a  practiced  manner,  pinching  a  nerve  that  he  knew  would  make  it  hard  for  that  arm  to  move  quickly,  and  began  to  march  him  back  up  the  corridor.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  was  like  trying  to  uproot  a  tree.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  have asked  you  twice  to  take  me  to  Midwinter. I ask  you  a  third  time. I ask  no  farther.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Byron  pulled  harder. “Come along,  mister! Bernie, can  you  get  out  here? F-- you,  stir  your  f—ing  stumps!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  stranger’s  arm  moved, ignoring  the  nerve  pinch. One great  hand  fastened  upon  Byron’s  throat. Slowly that  one  hand,  without  apparent  effort,  began  to  rise,  and  Byron  rose  with  it,  his  feet  dangling,  choking  as  he  scrabbled  at  the  massive  arm. “I told  him  and  I  told  him,  the  rules  never  work,  but  does  he  listen? Nooo. I’m supposed  to  give  you  every  chance,  he  says. Well, three  chances  is  enough  for  anyone. Where is  Midwinter?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “F—  you.”  gasped  Byron. Bernie, coming  through  the  door,  froze  for  a  split  second,  and  in  that  second  the  stranger  hurled  Byron  with  such  tremendous  force  into  the  window  that  the  bulletproof  glass  crunched  and  broke,  and  he  sagged  onto  the  file  cabinets  inside. Bernie was  shooting  now,  but  the  stranger  lifted  one  hand  and  what  seemed  like  a  shield  made  entirely  of  dirt  sprouted  around  it  like  a  flash. He could  see  the  bullets  embedding  in  it  as  they  fired.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  are  you?”    gasped  Bernie,  lowering  his  empty  gun.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  terrible  eyes  burned  brown  above  the  rim. “I am  the  Wild  Man  of  Winsted.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  launched  a  spray  of  earth  into  Bernie’s  face. Screaming, clawing  at  his  eyes,  Bernie  was dimly  aware  he  had  dropped  the  gun. Turning, the Wild  Man  strode  toward  the  door  leading  to  the  cells.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Red  lights  flashed  and  buzzers  flared. Byron had  managed  to  trigger  the  alarms. The wild  figure  tugged  at  the  door,  then  ripped  it  off  its’  hinges. Byron’s voice  was  sounding  over  the  intercom  now. ''“Security breach! Two men  down! Suspect making  for  Cell  Nine! He is  unarmed  but  extremely  dangerous! Backup! We need  backup!” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Policemen  scrambled  down  the  halls. They were  in  time  to  see  the  billowing  cloak  of  the  intruder  disappear  around  the  corner,  but  when  they  tried  to  follow  him  they  found  it  blocked  with  a  wall  of  hard-packed  earth. Shooting it  made  no  impression. They hurried  off  to  find  another  way.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  uncouth  figure  strode  down  the  corridor. Faces pressed  against  barred  windows. His grim  brown  eyes  surveyed  each  cell  in  turn. Pausing outside  Cell  Nine  he  tore  the  door  in  half.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Peter  Midwinter,  in  an  orange  prison  suit,  looked  up  from  his  cot. The wild  fantastic  figure  filled  the  cell  with  his  flying  black  hair  and  enormous  cloak. The old  man  shrank  against  the  wall.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We  were  unable  to  answer.”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Terrible  brown  eyes  burned  into  his. “That does  not  matter  right  now.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  do  you  want  with  me?”  Peter  murmered. “I cannot  pass  her  the  Lore. Are you  my  death?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  Wild  Man  of  Winsted  roared  with  laughter. “On the  contrary,  I  am  your  salvation. You are  a  servant  of  the  Road,  and  it  will  not  be  gainsaid. I’m here  to  free  you.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They’ll  just  arrest  me  again.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  Wild  Man  waved  one  hand  dismissively. “Leave that  to  Arheled.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Fear  filled  the  eyes  of  Peter  Midwinter. “I knew  this  was  the  year. Is he  here  already?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “He  has  been  calling  for  some  time.”  said  the  Wild  Man. “Come. Let’s get  you  out  of  here.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           No  one  was  guarding  the  blocked  way,  and  the  Wild  Man  walked  through  the  earth  even  as  it  vanished. Once or  twice  police  raced  by,  but  nobody  seemed  to  see  them. Then they  passed  the  guardroom  the  Wild  Man  suddenly  stopped  and  then  headed  within. Peter made  to  follow  but  a  terrible  glance  from  his  rescuer  froze  him  to  his  place. Who was  in  there  he  could  not  see,  but  he  could  hear.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  have  him,  my  lord.”  said  the  rough  voice  of  the  Wild  Man.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “As  always,  you  seem  to  favor  a  sledgehammer  when  a  hedgetrimmer  was  required.”  said  a  low  quiet  voice,  peaceful  but  filled  with  power.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “These  people  try  my  patience  sorely. I played  the  rules. What complaint  can  you  make?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  managed  to  set  off  alerts  to  every  unit  in  NW  Connecticut.”  the  second  voice  said  with  a  deadly  quietness. “You implicated  irretrievably  the  very  man  you  rescued. And the  charges  filed  by  Captain  Midwinter—and,  most  importantly,  the  binding  he  laid  on  Lara—still  stand.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  say  we  torture  Midwinter  until  he  releases  her,  then! He has  already  incurred  the  Road  against  him. And you  know  what  penalty  the  Road  exacts.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  I  walk  the  Road.”  said  the  voice  of  Arheled. “And I  know  he  acts  not  from  malice  but  from  love. Wherefore he  merits  not  the  penalty,  and  I  will  not  suffer  it  to  fall  unmerited.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  my  lord.”  the  Wild  Man  sighed.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “These  are  hard  days.”  Arheled  said  gently. “We are  bound  at  every  turn  by  our  own  hands,  while  our  enemies  hunt  as  they  wish. None but  the  dragon-spell  could  have  so  infected  Midwinter  with  stubbornness. But I  will  walk  in  his  dreams  tonight,  and  I  will  frighten  him  so  dreadfully  he  will  be  shaken  into  reason.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ah,  now  you  sound  like  the  lord  that  I  serve!”  growled  the  Wild  Man  in  satisfaction.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Take  Peter  to  his  shelter. I will  speak  to  their  machines  and  walk  in  many  minds  until  all  are  convinced  that  terrorists  came  here.”  said  Arheled. “May the  Road  rise  to  meet  you.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  the  wind  be  always  at  your  back.”  responded  the Wild  Man. He came  back  out  of  the  office  and  took  Peter’s  hand. They took  a  single  step,  and  Peter  found  himself,  wearing  his  old  clothes,  inside  the  Y  shelter’s  typical  bedroom.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Until  later,  Midwinter.”  said  the  Wild  Man  of  Winsted,  and  turning  he  was  swallowed  by  the  night.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  first  heard  about  it  when  her  dad  got  the  call.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There’s  been  a  what?!...How  many  injured? What was  the  target?”  He  kept  barking  questions  as  he  threw  on  his  coat.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad!  What’s happening?!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Terrorists  attacked  the  Barkhamsted  jail.”  said  Mr. Midwinter. “Nobody seems  to  have  been  killed,  but  about  three  prisoners  are  missing,  including  our  crazy  uncle.”  He  rushed  out  the  door  and  was  gone.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  was  soon  on  the  news. After flicking  from  channel  to  channel,  the  Midwinters  finally  gathered  that  the  prison  had  been  penetrated  by  unknown  individuals  who  smashed  through  the  checkpoint  and  blew  open  several  doors,  and  were  apparently  able  to  hack  the  security  cameras  and  erase  all  pertinent  footage. The guardsroom  officers  had  been  injured  and  were  babbling  wild  tales  of  a  fantastic  ragged  man  in  a  huge  cape who  wielded  earth  powers  and  could  stop  bullets. The on-duty  staff  had  “scrambled”  in  record  time  but  found  the  intruders—and  three  prisoners—already  gone. Two of  the  escapees  had  been  picked  up  not  far  away,  but  the  third—whose  name  had  not  been  released—was  still  at  large.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           A  cold  feeling  crawled  up  Lara’s  spine  as  she  listened. Earth powers. Stop bullets. Uncle Peter  had  hinted  at  mysterious  powers  that  governed  this  whole  thing,  like  some  terrible  ritual  where  the  slightest  misstep  could  cause  the  more  insane  destruction. And Dad  was  deliberately  misstepping.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  I  know  the  answer.”  she  whispered.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Forest,  honey,  it’s  time  to  get  up!”  called  Mrs. Lake. Her voice  sounded  almost  forced  these  days,  as  if  she  was  trying  to  pretend  things  were  the  same  as  ever,  or  as  if  she  was  a  little  afraid  of  him.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  sat  down  at  the  table  and  poured  out  some  cereal,  trying  to  fasten  his  last  dream  into  his  mind. The Sun  and  the  Moon  had  joined  hands  in  the  sky  and  swirled  as  they  danced  in  spirals  of  bright  fire. There was  something  else,  too,  a  maiden  whose  bare  limbs  flashed  so  bright  a  gold  she  could  scarcely  be  looked  at,  walking  amid  a  silver  world  of  frost  and  dew  that  steamed  at  her  passing,  and  hand  in  hand  with  her  a  man  all  of  hoar  and  silver  light. Then the  Sun  and  Moon  spinning  in their  crazy  dance,  and  spinning  off  from  them  were  nine  stars  brighter  than  the  rest,  the  planets  themselves.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  snow  on  the  roof  is  dreadful.”  said  Mrs. Lake as  she  made  some  cocoa  for  Forest. “I might  have  to  ask  Cornello  if  he  can…if  he  knows  someone  who  can.”  she  emended  hastily  when  Forest  looked  up  and  met  her  eyes.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Have  you  been  with  him  since?”  Forest  surprised  himself  by  saying.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  shook  her  head,  looking  almost  haunted. “But, Forest,  it’s  not  like  I  married  your  father  in  the  first  place…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  was  amazed  how  level  and  flat  his  voice  was. “I know  you  didn’t.”  he  said. “I know  that  I  am  bastard,  a  misbegotten  son  of  a  shack-up. I know  you  drove  my  father  out.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mrs. Lake only  stared  at  him,  timidly,  as  if  he  was  some  kind  of  monster.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  wasn’t…quite  like  that…”  she  whispered.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  stared  at  her,  steadily,  unwavering. Mrs. Lake could  bear it  no  longer. “Forest…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  dropped  his  eyes. He hated  this. He hated  having  to  act  like  this  with  his  own  mom.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  refused  to  curse  you  in  my  dream.”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Forest,”  Mrs.  Lake  whispered,  “can  you  forgive  me?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “When  my  father  comes  back.”  said  Forest,  picking  up  his  bowl. “Not before.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  turned  when  he  was  at  the  door,  and  his  face  crumpled  as  he  looked  at  her. Tears boiled  in  his  eyes. “How could  you  do  this  to  me?”  he  choked,  and  ran.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  ate  his  cereal  upstairs. Part of  him  desperately  longed  to  make  it  all  right  with  her,  to  go  on  as  they  always  had  and  not  to  cause  trouble,  but  he  knew  he  couldn’t,  he  daren’t  back  down  if  he  was  to  make  things  right. She had  to  make  the  first  move. She had  repented;  but  not  yet  atoned.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  doorbell  rang.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  and  Mrs. Lake raced  to  get  there  first  and  almost  collided,  and  the  laughter  they  shared  over  the  mishap  eased  both  of  their  hearts.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">            “Perhaps  this  is  not  a  good  time.”  said  the  man  in  brown.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh—no,  actually  it’s  not  like—“  Mrs. Lake stammered,  laughing.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">            “I  wondered  if  you’d  let me  shovel  your  roof.”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Certainly.”  said  Forest. “And if  you  get  tired  Mom’ll  have  hot  chocolate  ready.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">            “But  you’ve  got  to  get  ready  for  school,  honey!”  exclaimed  Mrs. Lake.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “School’s  out  all  week  while  they  clear  roofs.”  chuckled  the  man  in  brown. “It was  in  today’s  paper.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  I  haven’t  got  it  in  yet. Forest, sweetie,  would  you  be  a  dear  and  run  out  to—“

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  picked  it  up  on  the  way  in.”  said  Brown,  holding  out  the  bagged  Register  Citizen.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why,  thank  you  so  much,  Mr. Brown! I’ll have  to  be  going  to  work  soon,  but  Forest  can  pay  you.”  She  paused.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No,  I’m  not  homeless.”  the  man  in  brown  said  gently. “I have  a  house  some  ways  north  of  here. It’s just  an  off  season,  is  all.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  what  do  you  do,  regularly?”  asked  Mrs. Lake.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  Man  in  brown  had  a  faint  twinkle  in  his  eyes. “I’m a  bit  of  a  groundskeeper  and  road-warden. For one  of  the  cemetaries.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ohhh.”  said  Mrs. Lake. Evidently this  seemed  more  respectable  in  her  eyes  than  a  homeless  man  doing  odd  jobs. “Well, the  ladders  are  up  by  the  back,  but  they’re  kind  of  buried.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Thank  you,  ma’am! You have  a  good  day  at  you  job!”  called  Brown  as  he  headed  around  in  back. Mrs. Lake got  ready  for  work—in  rather  a  hurry,  Forest  thought. He caught  her  as  she  went  out  the  door.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Mom? Be safe.”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mrs. Lake’s eyes  suddenly  sprang  with  tears. She wrapped  Forest  in  a  hug  and  kissed  him,  and  then  rushed  out  to  the  car.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           When  Forest  bundled  up  and  went  outside  to  help,  the  man  in  brown  was  already  clearing  the  steep  bottom  roof  where  it  met  the  ground. It was  growing  warm  and  there  was  a  delectable  scent  of  newness,  of  melting  and  wet  bark  and  snow. Forest grinned.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  and  your  mom  at  some  kind  of  understanding?”  Brown  grunted  as  he  pulled  down  snow.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We—know  where  we  stand.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  are  strong.”  Brown  said  approvingly. “You haven’t  backed  down,  but  you  let  her  know  you  love  her. Good. How are  the  Stars?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Nearly  done.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Brown  nodded. “I’ve seen  your  father  around  town. Tell me,  what  did  you  see  last  night?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  thought  hard,  pushing  through  all  the  jumbled  images. “The Sun  and  Moon  danced.”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Brown  went  up  on  the  roof  and  began  to  clear  the  flatter  tops,  and  Forest  climbed  up  after  him. They worked  in  silence  for  a  while. Hat and  coat  were  soon  thrown  aside,  and  Forest  in  his  grey  sweater  and  Brown  in  his  odd  stained  flannel  plaid  shirt  plowed  and  chopped  and  cleared.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  was  the  beginning  of  the  end.”  Brown  said  suddenly. “The first  sign  that  not  even  the  heavens  were  to  be  free  of  strife.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  was?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  romance  of  the  Sun  and  Moon.”  answered  Brown.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  leaned  on  his  shovel. Forest, glad  to  stop,  squatted  on  his  boots  as  they  looked  out  over  the  white  island,  joined  to  the  white  lake. Patches of  dark  slush  were  appearing  on  the  deep  snowbound  ice.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why  is  my  island  girded  with  spruce?”  Forest  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  need  not  fear  them.”  Brown  answered. “They do  not  stand  with  their  brethren. To guard  this  island  is  their  only  purpose,  and  they  own  no  lord  but  the  big  oak  by  your  window.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Today’s  Valentine’s  Day.”  said  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  aren’t  you  glad  to  be  out  of  school  and  away  from  mush-headed  dirlas!”  laughed  Brown. Forest gave  a  half  smile. “Not that  they  would  see  you  anyway,  Forest. Love is  a  strange  and  terrible  thing;  it  will  make  men  put  those  they  love  through  agony  in  order  to  make  them  perfect;  it  can  betray  plans  and  destroy  lives  and  souls,  and  undo  even  the  heavens  themselves.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  heavens  are  dead.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Now  they are,  yes. And who  can  tell,  if  the  Nine  Planets  had  never  come  into  being,  perhaps  the  ancient  stars  would  still  sing  their  haunting  melodies  in  peace  in  the  high  airs  and  the  foments  of  the  heavens  would  never  come  to  pass. And maybe  if  they  had  not  sparked  it,  something  else  would,  and  the  modern  skies  have  come  to  pass  by  one  means  or  another. Can you  imagine  the  scientists  learning  power  from  the  Stars,  or  the  engines  of  men  intruding  into  the  crystal  spheres? Perhaps it  was  fated  that  the  modern  space  would  come  about,  for  the  confoundation  of  the  gods  of  the  computers  and  the  telescopes.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  I  thought  the  Sun  and  Moon  were  steered  by—“

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Urwendi  steered  the  Sun,  that  maiden  most  glorious.”  Brown  replied. “But Silmo  bore  up  the  Moon,  for  it  was  heavier  and  less  buoyant,  and  he  strove  to  follow  Urwendi  and  could  not,  and  so  the  Gods  gave  him  a  slower  course,  that  he  might  at  times  come  near  enough  to  share  her  smile  in  the  skies. For in  the  time  before  the  Sun  and  Moon  he  had  loved  her  from  a  distance  as  she  stood  laughing  in  the  hot  rain  of  burning  light  that  fell  from  the  Tree  of  Gold,  but  he  was  of  the  shadowy  folk  of  the  Dreamweaver  and  the  Tree  of  Silver  was  his  delight. And when  she  and  her  maidens  entered  the  vats  of  boiling  light  to  burn  the  earthliness  from  the  bodies  that  they  wore,  they  came  out  glistening  with  gold  light,  and  light  flashed  and  dripped  from  their  limbs,  and  no  cloth  might  abide  upon  their  glorious  bodies.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  sat  down  on  his  haunches  next  to  Forest. The sound  of  dripping  snow,  the  voices  of  ice  fishers,  the  occasional  piping  of  a  sparrow  came  up  to  them  from  around.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  thought  the  Gods  were  spirits.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They  are.”  answered  Brown. “But they  are  bound  to  the  World,  for  they  chose  to  enter  it  and  guide  it,  and  so  they  must  put  on  raiment  of  flesh  over  their  spirits  if  they  would  have  power  over  the  matter  that  they  love. They may  cast  this  off  and  go  unclad,  if  they  wish,  or  they  may  for  some  great  reason  thicken  this  raiment  until  it  becomes  as  physical  as  yours:  an  incarnation,  an  imitation  and  likeness  to  that  supreme  and  utter  Incarnation  of  the  Lord  Himself. It is  said  that  these  incarnations  were  even  capable  of  physical  generation  and  bearing  of  children,  yet  this  has  happened  only  twice  in  the  entire  world,  once  on  the  Earth  and  once  in  the  heavens.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  was  silent  with  sheer  awe.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So  the  Sun  was  espoused  to  the  Moon,  and  those  two  great  lights  floated  together  in  the  skies  while  the  Stars  rejoiced  around  them;  and  astrologers  upon  the  earth  were  thrown  into  vast  confusion. And the  love  between  the  Sun  and  Moon  was  very  great,  and  the  Sun  gave  birth  and  brought  forth  nine  children,  the  Nine  Planets  of  the  ancient  skies:  Hormo  the  swift,  and  Charosa  the  lovely,  Barvast  the  warlike  whose  hair  and  face  glowed  red,  Angar  the  dark,  Drëdo  the  masterful  and  leader  of  the  Nine,  Gentos  the  reckoner,  and  the  three  cold  brothers,  Üra  the  raw,  and  Doldûn  the  cold,  and  Lundno  the  silent. Begotten of  both  Moon  and  Sun,  they  blazed  greater  than  the  other  Stars,  and  were  held  as  lords  among  them,  and  walked  fixed  courses  that  differed  from  the  others,  more  like  to  their  mighty  parents:  for  they  were  not  Stars  in  their  blood,  but  divine.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  thought  Earth  was  the  ninth  planet.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  was  never  a  planet  until  after  the  Stars  rebelled.”  Brown  answered. “There were  ten  planets  then. Until Angar  was  shattered. But that  is  a  different  tale.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           ''Mr. Midwinter was  having  his  hands  full  with  this  bunch. The beach  was  warm,  blue  and  tan  with  sand  and  sky,  and  the  busful  of  kids  he  was  shepherding  were  acting  all  rowdy  and  goofy. Gina wore  a  golden  bikini  that  showed  her  brown  body  nicely,  and  it  was  amusing  hearing  her  say  in  her  Spanish  accent  “Nobody  splash  me  until  I  jump  in!” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  kids  were  scrambling  up  past  an  ancient  place,  a  sort  of  ruin;  old  concrete  ledges  crumbling  away  leaned  over  the  trail. There were  arched  cavernous  vaults  underneath,  concrete  tunnels  in  a  dark  dirty  network  going  far  under  the  hill. The floor  was  earth  mould  from  ages  of  blown-in  leaves. Dennis Midwinter  touched  the  wall  and  shards  broke  off  like  sand. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Some  stonemason  will  be  in  big  trouble  in  a  few years,”  he  said  to  one  of  the  counselors,  running  his  hand  over  several  dangerous-looking  cracks. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           There  was  a  shifting. The cracks  grew. Walls and  roof  began  to  groan. The place  was  starting  to  collapse. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “…correction,  now.”  he  added. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Reality  seemed  to  blur  around  him  as  he  hurried  about,  marshaling  scared  kids. “Move!” he  yelled. “Hurry. Here, over  this  way. Keep moving.”  as  they  filed  up  out  of  the  entrance. Kids were  still  hurrying  around  in  every  direction. Big pieces  of  rubble  were  thudding  down  on  all  sides. He headed  farther  back  to  check  for  stragglers,  as  above  him  the  roof  creaked  and  softened. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Then  it  was  that  it  began  to  close  down  upon  him,  the  strange  fear,  the  slow  dawn  of  terror. One of  the  counselors,  a  middle-aged  woman,  came  out  from  farther  back,  and  she  hunched  along  crouched  as  if  injured  and  held  her  arms  to  her  sides,  and  blood  was  on  her  hands. “They’re here.”  she  groaned. “They’re coming.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  hurried  farther  back. It was  not  quite  dark. Light glowered  from  a  distance,  but  it  was  not  daylight. Then the  horror  dawned  at  last. Then he  knew. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           There  were  people  in  those  caves. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">            They  were  not  people. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Scurrying  up  the  passage  toward  him,  the  yellowish  cave-light  behind  it,  he  saw…a  man  all  twisted,  hobbling  furiously,  and  he  was—he  was  not  human,  not  as  we  mean  human,  he  was  sort  of  the  focal  point  of  vast  realm  beyond  realm  of  something  that  Dennis  could  not  see,  could  not  sense  but  knew  was  there,  something  utterly  and  indefinably  horrible. The cave  was  blurring  around  the  twisted one,  vague  and  wavery,  seeming  to  move  back  and  forward  as  if  sight  itself  was  twisting. Evil blurred  the  walls  around  him. Fear was  in  Dennis,  cold  helpless  borne  down  caught,  it  had  found  him,  horrible  was  coming  and  had  him. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Dennis  turned  and  stumbled  back  toward  the  children,  and  something  drew  his  eyes  to  the  left,  and  there  was  a  cat  not  a  cat,  the  very  sight  and  shape  of  which,  like  the  man  all  twisted,  made  the  soul  shrink  and  cry  for  it  was  not  natural,  it  was  horrible. “Oh God. Oh God.”  he  said  over  and  over. He was  breathing  violently,  he  found  it  hard  to  breathe,  his  heart  jerked  and  shook,  he  was  cold,  he  was  filled  with  helpless  fear. He heard  himself  feebly  urging  the  kids  to  get  out,  and  then  he  came  awake,  and  fear  was  still  on him. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Dennis  Midwinter  sat  upright  in  his  bed. No, not  his  bed—he  had  dozed  off  in  the  lounge  while  putting  in  a  long  night. “Get some  rest.”  the  chief  had  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  was  dead  tired  and  barely  able  to  keep  his  eyes  open,  but  he  could  not  close  them,  he  dared  not,  for  he  knew  that  if  he  went  back  to  sleep,  the  dream  was  still  there,  and  he  would  find  him  there,  the  twisted  one,  waiting  for  him. Yet do  what  he  would  his  eyes  sealed  shut  and  with  absolute  terror  he  felt  his  mind  spiral  straight  back  down  toward  that  dream.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Yet  not  into  it. Something was  guiding  him,  steering  him  away  from  the  crumbling  caves  and  the  waiting  evil,  and  he  felt  someone’s  hand  pulling  his. Uncle Peter  had  him  safely,  and  Dennis  felt an  irrational  small-boy  delight,  as  if  in  his  terror  he  had  again  become  a  child.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Run! This way,  my  boy! We’ll beat  him  yet!”  the  crazy  old  man  was  holloring. Yet somehow  Dennis  knew  with  a  deep  absolute  certainty  that  his  uncle  was  good,  it  was  safe  beside  him,  he  was  trustable. Behind them  were  the  wavering  caves. Fear beat  upon  the  back  of  Dennis’  neck,  and  Lara  was  gasping  for  breath  and  stumbling,  and  he  tried  to  tell  her  they  couldn’t  stop  now,  because  she had  frozen  in  place.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What’s  wrong  with  her?”  yelled  Dennis.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “She  bears  the  chains  of  another.”  murmered  Uncle  Peter.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Alarmed,  Dennis  saw  that  chains  were  wound  about  Lara,  holding  her  down,  she  could  not  run. Yellow light  glowed  behind  them. He heard  though  he  could  not  see,  the  footsteps  of  uncountable  hosts  of  the  damned. He hauled  at  the  chains  but  they  would  not  come  off.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  put  those  chains  upon  her  and  we  cannot  flee  now.” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">  said  the  old  man.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Dennis  Midwinter  collapsed  on  the  ground  and  screamed.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  got  off  the  floor  where  he  had  rolled  off  the  lounge  chairs. The dream  was  gripping  him  so  hard  he  raced  down  the  dull  corridors,  shouting  for  Lara. He caught  himself  as  it  began  to  dawn  on  him,  with  incredible  relief,  that  he  was  awake.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  staggered  to  his  desk,  still  shaking. Cold fear  was  still  upon  him. He mopped  sweat  from  his  brow. Why had  he  felt  so  incredibly  sure  that  Uncle  Peter  was  safe,  was  the  only  one  who  could  save  him? And those  chains…

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Mr. Midwinter buried  his  face  in  his  hands  and  groaned.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  heard  the  phone  ringing  out  in  the  hall.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  was 5  in  the  morning  and  she  hadn’t  been  able  to  get  to  sleep  again. Hurrying from  her  room  she  caught  it  on  the  third  ring.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hello?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  who’s  this,  Lara?”  It  was  her  dad’s  voice.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad! We’ve been  wondering  how  you  were  doing.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  um,  I’m  glad  you  answered.”  Big  pause. “I’ve been  wrong  about  Uncle  Peter. I withdrew  the  charges. He’s got  a  clean  slate  cause  I  torched  his  file. He’s free.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What…was  the  reason?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  had  a  nightmare. It’s a  little  hard  to  explain,  but  he  was  there  and—I  guess  I  just  saw  him  as  he  really  is  for  the  first  time. Oh, and  Lara,  you’re  free  to  talk  to  him.”  He  drew  a  shaky  breath. “I don’t  know  what  was  wrong  with  me. It was  like  I  was  insane,  blind  or  something. I owe  him  a  big  apology.”

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  hung  up  the  phone,  a  confused  sense  of  relief  dawning  inside  her. It was  all  right. Dad wasn’t  in  the  wrong.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  had  to  find Uncle  Peter.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Glancing  out  one  of  the  windows  at  the  thermometer,  she  shivered. Yesterday had  been  wonderfully  balmy,  but  now  it  was  10°  out. And windy.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  fixed  herself  some  breakfast  and  ate  dry  cereal  thoughtfully. Looking out  the  window  again  she  noticed  the  sky  had  no  clouds. It was  only  5:30  and  not  even  blue  out,  though  the  east  was  paling. Abruptly she  put  down  her  spoon  and  began  bundling  up. Even though  Orion  or  the  Herald  or  whatever  he  was  had  probably  long  since  set.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  wind  had  fallen  for  a  moment  when  she  stepped  outside,  but  she  heard  it  moaning  far  off  in  the  mountains,  a  steady  deep  sound  like  a  rushing  horn. Snow that  had   been  melting  yesterday  was  hard  and  glassy  under  her  boots. Sure enough,  the  Herald  was  nowhere  to  be  seen.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  thought  you’d  be  up  and  about.”  said  a  voice  from  the  driveway. “Relax, lass,  it’s  Uncle  Peter. And no, I  haven’t  come  to  raid  your  garbage.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad  dropped  the  charges!”  said  Lara. “Did you  hear?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  I  did.”  the  old  man  said  enigmatically. His eyes  wandered  toward  the  brimming  trash  can. “Oooh! Garbage!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  stop  it,  Uncle.”  laughed  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  it  looks  like  it’s  brimming  with  possibilities! Thrown-out ends  of  loaves! Uneaten chicken  legs! There might  even  be  unscraped  jelly  jars!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Sorrrrry.”  said  Lara. “Around here,  we  not  only  scrape the  jars,  the  little  kids  lick  them.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ohhh.”  muttered  the  eccentric. “I notice  you’re  talking  to  me. Are you  still  chained?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No,  Dad  says  it’s  perfectly  all  right. He also  wants  to  tell  you  that  he  was  wrong  about  you  and  owes  you  an  apology.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Then  tell  him  it  is  already  accepted.”  said  Uncle  Peter,  waving  one  hand  grandly. “So, tell  me,  Lara. Have you  found  the  answer?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  I  know  what  it  is.”  said  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Peter  Midwinter  seemed  to  grow  taller,  although  in  the  dimness  she  could  only  see  his  shape  against  the  pale  snow. Even masked  by  twilight  she  felt  the  power  and  authority  he  had  drawn  about  him  like  a  cloak. His voice  came  deeper  and as  powerful  as  the  distant  wind.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  is  the  sign  of  the  head  of  the  Herald?” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  felt  answering  power  tingle  through  her  as  she  spoke. '' “The head  of  the  Herald  is  hidden  from  view.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  have  answered  rightly.”  the  voice  of  her  ancient  uncle  sounded.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Now  say  I,  Peter  son  of  Heden  who  passed  the  lore  to  me,  eldest  of  the  house  of  Midwinter  at  one  hundred  years  and  four,  the  second  riddle  of  three:

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Where  aims  the  point  of  the  arrow  of  the  Herald? ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  will  return  to  you  on  the  third  night  from  now  and  receive  then  your  answer. If you  are  unable  to  answer,  three  nights  more  have  you. If you  cannot  answer,  then  both  of  us  will  die.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Don’t  worry,  Uncle,  I’ll  have  the  answer.”  said  Lara.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Splendid,  splendid.”  the  old  man  said  in  his  usual  sprightly  manner. You wouldn’t  have  a  sandwich  for  me,  maybe? I’ve had  a  long  walk.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’m  due  for  the  morning  shift at  7.”  said  Lara. “Here, wait  in  the  garage. I’ll give  you  a  lift  into  town  and  get  there  early.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  quickly  warmed  up  one  of  the  Styrofoam  Instant  Chicken  Soup  cups  her  family  favored  and  made  a  peanut-butter-and-jelly  sandwich  as  well. Then she  took  a  volume  of  St. Thomas Aquinas  she’d  been  meaning  to  get  to  and  headed  out  to  the  car. Once the  heater  got  going  it  would  be  warm  enough. In the  meantime  Uncle  Peter  was  very  glad  of  the  soup.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So,  how’d  you  get  out  of  jail?”  she  said. “We heard  it  was  terrorists.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  stole  a  sidelong  glance  at  his  bearded  face. The headlights  made  the  pine  forest  stand  out  in  sharp  contrast,  like  cutouts,  as  they  drove  up  the  long  hill  out  of  Riverton. She still  didn’t  feel  exactly  comfortable  near  him,  he  looked  so  bearded  and  eccentric  and  unsafe. Even though  she  felt  he  was  basically  trusty.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  was—pulled  out.”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  but  who  did  it? And why?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “When  you  serve  the  Road,  it  does  not  brook  dissent.”  he  answered  at  last. “They came  for  me.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  felt  an  icy  tingle  creep  up  her  legs. “Who did?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  Wild  Man  of  Winsted.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  said  no  more  for  a  short  time,  as  there  was  black  ice  on  the  road  and  Lara  suddenly  had  to  concentrate. She knew  the  legend  of  the  Wild  Man;  Ronnie  had  told  her  once,  but  the  image  of  a  hairy  naked  caveman  busting  into  a  jail  with  earth  powers  just  didn’t  jibe. “What did  he  look  like?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ah,  you  believe  me!”  laughed  Uncle  Peter. He drained  his  soup  and  started  on  the  sandwich. “He wore—I  think  he  had  jeans  and  a  sports  jacket,  but  over  that  he  wore  a  huge  ragged  cape. And yes,  he  had  black  hair. Black beard,  too,  and  very  frightening  brown  eyes. If Arheled  wasn’t  here  I  would—well,  it  wouldn’t  be  very  safe  around  him. He seems  to  command  earth.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Arheled.”  she  repeated. “Who is  Arheled?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  you’ll  know  soon  enough.”  Uncle  Peter  said  darkly. He bit  down  with  gusto.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Uncle,”  she  said  after  a  while,  when  they  were  at  the  traffic  light  at  Nelson’s  Corners,  “have  you  ever  heard  of  Temple  Fell?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Uncle  Peter  choked  and  spent  the  next  minute  coughing  up  sandwich. “He hasn’t  told  you  about  it  yet?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara forgot  to  look  at  the  road  and  stared  at  him. “He?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  old  man  flapped  his  hand. “Yes, he.”  he  said  impatiently. “Don’t tell  me  you  haven’t  been  talking  with  mysterious  strangers. I know  you’ve  been  called. Midwinter for  the  Stars,  and  Lane  for  the  Road. But yes,  I  know  of  Temple  Fell.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Where  is  it?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Up  north  of  Little  Pond. Above Rugg  Brook  Lake. And I’m  not  any  too  certain  I’m  supposed  to  be  the one  who  tells  you. You have  to  find  it  on  your  own,  I  hear;  but  then,  I  was  only  four  when  the  last  time  happened. Not always  the  Midwinter  who  receives  the  Lore  is  the  one  called. Sometimes they  just  end  up  giving  the  right  information  to  the  one  called. I guess  it  depends  on  who  answers.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  do  you  know what  it  is?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  a  fell.”  he  answered  testily. “Plenty of  fells  up  here. You know,  as  in—“

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “—rounded  lumpy  mountains.”  she  finished. “Yes. I read  old  books.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  reached  Winsted  and  she  drove  up  Main  Street  to  the YMCA. “Thanks for  what  little  you  were  allowed  to  tell,  Uncle.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You’re  welcome,  lass.”  he  answered  brightly  as  he  unfolded  himself  from  the  car. “And I  must  say,  it’s  a  pleasure  to  have  such  a  charming  niece. Thanks so  much  for  the  grub!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  laughed  as  she  closed  the  door.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  could  hardly  wait  for  the  stars  to  appear.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           As  it  turned  out  the  mountain  blocked  the  view  east,  so  she  tramped  down  the  down  lane  and  through  Riverton centre,  across  the  bridge,  up  till  she  reached  the  fairgrounds. The snow  in  the  broad  field  was  crusted  hard  enough  to  support  her,  although  she  did  break  through  occasionally. Looking up  she  glanced  around  to  see  where  the  Herald  was. Sure enough  he  was  just  striding  up  the  sky,  on  his  back,  and  the  clustered  stars  that  formed  the  arrow-point  were  easy  to  make  out. She noted  the  angle  it  formed  relative  to  the  bow,  and  the  body; if  the  Herald  stood  upright  he  would  be  shooting  about  45  degrees  upward,  not  level. She held  one  gloved  finger  outward,  tracing  an  arc  overhead,  following  the  line  of  the  arrow.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  first  thing  in  the  path  was  the  Milky  Way. The irregular  ragged  band  of  paleness  crossed  at  an  angle. What an  odd  shape  it  had. There was  a  gap  in  it,  and  a  back-curving  arm,  like  a  head…and  there  was  another  arm  a  little  lower,  two  in  fact  opposite  each  other…then  it  branched  as  it  descended  to  the  horizon,  like…in  fact,  exactly  like  a  tropical  fish  with  long,  trailing  fins. She traced  the  arrow-path  again. Two bright  stars,  one  right  in  the  fish-Milky-Way,  the  second  at  the  head  of  a  wiggling  line  of  stars. Both pointed  across  the  dome  of  the  sky—Lara  turned  to  the  left—right  to  the  Little  Dipper. No, that  wasn’t  right;  the  Dipper  was  out  of  the  way. The tail  of  it  wasn’t,  though…

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Her  eyes  widened  as  she  realized  the  answer  to  the  second  riddle.