Erelah's was a name Isaiah had heard in the markets for many years, but never met in person. She was something of a local legend in the lowlands: a name some whispered to their children to scare them into going to bed on time, and a name others whispered to one another with an awe that few in the realm commanded. Debate on whether she was crazier or saner than all of them was similarly varied. Whatever the consensus, though, everyone agreed she was a master of the Talakova's edge, and if she did not want to be found, she would not be.

The marketplace was a dangerous first stop. Isaiah could not assuage his jumpiness as the sparse crowd scuttled to and fro between empty market stalls and the occasional vendor who still retained the nerve—or financial desperation—to stand in the open for half the day. Every pair of footsteps that hurried by was a potential menace: a friendly face who proved the opposite when presented with some personal gain in betraying him. Only the threat of Dinah was enough to have brought him along on this expedition at all.

"This is going to be difficult," murmured Niccola, standing before yet another empty stall. The vendors who harvested from the great forest made up the bulk of the absentees. They were also the ones most likely to have information on where Erelah had last been spotted. Niccola sighed. "Come on," she said, tugging their linked arms. "Verde told me where her nephew is, at least. I've bought from him before."

Isaiah followed her reluctantly. Only a few alleyways off from the main marketplace, Niccola knocked on a door and was met with no reply. The rustle of the sun-kissed breeze and distant cawing of crows overrode any sounds of footsteps from inside the house. Niccola knocked again.

"He likely moved up the hill," said Isaiah. "At least until the threat down here clears."

Niccola made a noise of frustration and began to unlink their arms. "Wait here."

"Wait—"

The fear caught in his voice. Niccola stopped. Isaiah shivered at the prospect of being left alone in such a threatening environment, which just days before had been more like home to him than the palace ever had been. The palace guards would know how to sneak up on him so he would not hear them. And if they put out a call for tips on his whereabouts, he did not trust half the lowland people not to answer.

"Hide somewhere, then?" said Niccola.

That was an alternative he could stomach. Niccola led them deeper between the houses, into a maze of back alleyways devoid of plan or pattern. They were quiet, save for the distant crows—muffled now—and the occasional scuffle of a small animal. Isaiah leaned against a wall and crossed his arms tightly as Niccola let him go.

"Be careful," he whispered.

"I will."

She slipped away. She had already spotted guards once today, far up a street, speaking with the locals. This was nothing unusual for the regular City Guard, but she'd said these ones were in palace livery.

Isaiah didn't want to fight with the palace guards. He stood a chance against one if he could disarm them early, but two or more would overpower him immediately. Running was out of the question. Isaiah shuddered as memories of in-palace escapes bubbled up from wherever they'd lain dormant beneath his consciousness. The gut-tearing fear of sprinting down hallways, one hand to the wall, trusting only his memory and senses of direction and distance to keep him from injuring himself. Lodging himself in an alcove behind a stone statue and holding his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as the guards tramped past, as if they might be less likely to see him that way.

Pekea nibbled his hair, then headbutted the side of his head. He was still in the alleyway with the sun warming one shoulder and the sounds of crows in the distance, but the fear was the same.

After an indeterminable amount of time, Niccola's footsteps hurried back towards him. "I found her, come on," she whispered, then plunged further into the network of alleyways, dragging Isaiah with her. When they emerged again, Isaiah had lost all sense of direction save for that of the sun. The Talakova rustled dangerously close up ahead. Niccola threw down a handful of something—likely the mealworms she'd gotten from Verde this morning—before stepping into the shadow of the trees. The whoosh of wings swept down behind them as crows took the entrance offering.

The trail narrowed. The deeper they went, the more the sounds of the outside world were replaced with new ones. The slow moan of the wind in the canopy six stories overhead. The chatter of some distant animal. Things moved in the undergrowth: small, intermittent rustles like garden worms that emerged at night to pull leaves into their burrows, only it wasn't night, and some sounded too big to be worms. Something hopped off the path in front of Niccola. A frog, maybe. A bird in the distance made a watery trickling call that didn't sound birdlike at all.

Niccola moved fearlessly. The hand that held Isaiah's was tight but not clenched, with no other signs of nervousness. She walked like her head was held high. She had not exaggerated when she said the Varnic people were less afraid of the Talakova. Now and again, she would reach out and trail a hand over the plants that hemmed them in to either side, plucking a leaf on occasion and stashing it in her pocket with a whispered invocation of thanks in return.

Niccola must have received incredibly specific directions on where to find Erelah, because it was under half an hour before the sound of her rustling and humming to herself trickled through the forest up ahead. By now, the trail they were on had given way to a network of paths that twisted and forked like deer trails. The undergrowth at least had shrunk to ankle height.

"Fair weather," Niccola called. "Is that Erelah?"

The person ahead startled audibly. "Depends who's asking," said a voice both sharp and creaky. From the weight of her footsteps, Erelah sounded like a somewhat stout person, and either short, hunched, or bent over for how low to the ground she spoke from.

Niccola squeezed Isaiah's hand.

"Isaiah Cantor and Niccola Landau," he said, and heard Erelah startle again. The next moment, she was shuffling rapidly towards them—faster than Isaiah would have expected from one her age and stature. She was indeed very short, speaking from no higher than Isaiah's chest when she stopped a stone's throw from the two of them.

"Well, blow me down with an aspen leaf," she said. "Is that the prince I'm seeing with my own two eyes?"

Isaiah forced a smile, though being so exposed was tearing at his nerves again. "It is. We're here to ask you a few questions about... things that have happened in my family's past, near the edge of this forest."

He recoiled as Erelah scooted forwards. Niccola's "Hey" was lost as the old woman snatched them both by the wrists and dragged them down the path with startling strength for one so aged.

"I will talk to you about that b'cause you're the prince, but I won't have that happening within earshot of another living soul," she whispered fiercely. "Come now, come, come, come. The forest won't bite you. Come, come."

They were hustled still further into the quiet depths of the Talakova, until even the faintest sounds of habitation dissipated. Erelah moved like a squirrel through the underbrush. Niccola, thankfully, did not speed after her, forcing the old woman to stop and wait for them several times as Isaiah navigated tangles of branches or brush that seemed to close in on every side even as he tried to battle through them. At last, they broke out into what seemed to be a clearing.

"Sit, sit, sit," said Erelah. Isaiah's foot bumped damp wood. It was a log, brushed clean along the top when he bent to feel it. Niccola sat and patted the spot beside her. Erelah bustled about the clearing a little, then returned to plop herself down on some form of seating just in front of them, close enough that their fingertips could touch if they both reached out. This wasn't close enough for her satisfaction. The next sound was the drag of another entire log being shifted closer.

Erelah plopped down again and leaned forwards, rocking back and forth. "You want to know what happened during the Catastrophe. How do I know you won't just turn around and arrest me at the other end?"

"Because we are currently hiding from the rest of the royal family as a result of pursuing this information," said Isaiah. "If I turn you in, I'm turning myself in as well."

Erelah humphed. "To your own family?"

"Yes," said Niccola simply, intervening. "Erelah, I promise we will not sell you out. This is a matter of utmost importance to all of Calis—even all the realms on this side of the Ring of Thirty."

Erelah rocked in silence for a while, evidently weighing the matter. At last, she leaned in again. "Okay, but I haven't lived here alone so long for nuthin'. I'll tell you, if you promise to keep it totally secret it was me."

"We promise," said Niccola. Isaiah echoed her.

"Hmph. Good. Well, what do you want to know?"

"What did Dinah do when she was sent to the cabin at the edge of the Talakova?" said Niccola.

"Locked that brilliant woman right up, they did. Strict curfew, and they came to check on her every twoday; a whole bunch'a guards with spears and everything. She was only allowed out for walks when the sun was shining. I talked with her once or twice. Brilliant, brilliant woman." The rocking became more frenetic as Erelah grew agitated. "Said they'd taken plenty from her. All her books. All her research. Permission to have kids, so she wouldn't pass on the magic she'd picked up. Cruel stuff, if you ask me. And all she'd said to them was how strong the realm would be if they dabbled in magic; did it herself to prove it. Didn't have no radical ideas before they freaked out on her and locked her up, but after..."

The rocking slowed. Isaiah and Niccola waited in silence until the old woman sat still.

"But after," she said, voice husky. "Well, I saw a different fire in her eye. Third or fourth time I talked to her, she was all on about the inferiority of non-magic, and altogether too fascinated by the Talaks. Called them her forest neighbors. And I mean, they're my neighbors, too, but she talked like they could be trusted. Like they could be used. She'd pace the cabin and spend hours reciting incantations like nothing I'd ever heard before. Once, I saw remains from an offering she didn't need for maintenance. And she had a scary smile then. I don't know what she'd found or made or started when she lived in that there cabin, but I never asked. I didn't want to know. I didn't talk to her no more after that."

"What were her maintenance offerings?" said Niccola quickly.

"Ah, she'd traded blood for power, she had. Came and slashed her own arm over the ground on Crow-Moon nights, and barely even winced. Risky business, I'm telling you. Risky business. You don't bargain with the Talaks like that. They're not your friends."

"And her power?"

"Never knew. Never wanted to know. Didn't ask. Guards said it was crow-speaking, but I never saw her speak to no crows. She was always in the forest on her walks, until they came around and locked her into the cabin again, except on Crow Moon nights, and then a whole escort came down to bring her to the Talakova. That's when people were dyin' and disappearin' all over. I didn't like the way she looked, getting all sick and thin, but that fire in her eye only getting wilder. I wondered if it might be her. I wanted to keep my life, though, and the royals sure weren't doing anything."

Her voice went sharper than ever at that, and Isaiah grimaced. Of course the royals at the time had stomped out any suggestion that one of their number might have been responsible for the disappearances, even if they themselves secretly knew.

"And then they blew her cover," said Erelah, "and a whole army came marchin' down to that there cabin. And when they opened it?"

Isaiah jumped as Erelah clapped her hands with a sound like a whip-crack.

"Poof," said the old woman, leaning closer than ever and dropping her voice to a whisper. "Just gone. Cabin empty. Window smashed, but the bars were still there, so either the Talaks came and took her away, or she had a different power than the royal family all said she did. They panicked. Caught a random crow from the forest and hustled right back. Released it again like a performance three moons later, the poor bird."

It had all been a lie. Isaiah was sure the forest floor would open and swallow him up if his heart sank any further. Already, it was lying somewhere dark and cold as the loam beneath his feet. Dinah had escaped. She'd escaped, and retreated to the deep Talakova where the time distortion would preserve her life while the world sped on without her, transporting her to a time when her immediate family was dead, and the lie of the Calisian royals had become the pillar that propped up their diplomatic relations. If this came to light and his parents handled it the way their ancestors had, Calis was doomed.

Niccola's voice reached him, muffled, through a suffocating blanket of dread. "You said she was ill? How so? And why?"

"Well," whispered Erelah, now rocking so furiously, her whole log rocked with her. "I would never say this in the village, y'know. But I had some suspicions, what with the way her magic worked, and the way the Talaks—"

Her voice cut short in a thunk and a gasp.

Niccola leaped up. "Erelah!"

She dove forwards, catching the old woman's body as it fell forwards. When she laid it down, her voice shook with fear. "She's dead. Isaiah, run."