The wind whistled across Ellie's face, fresh and cold and sweet. It blew her braided hair behind her, whipped at her skirts and chemise sleeves, and made her glad for the leather breeches Rain had provided. The ground below swept past, the blocks of fields and tiny villages looking more like a patterned tapestry than the world she knew. Above, infinity waited, beckoning to her with sunlit skies and the delicate puffs of white clouds she could almost reach out and touch.

"I'm flying," she whispered. "I'm really flying." Joy unlike any she'd ever known filled her. She flung out her arms and lifted her face to the wind, laughing with uncontainable happiness. "This is wonderful!”

«You like it, then?»

"Like it? I love it! I adore it!" If not for the waist-high front ridge of the saddle, she would have flung herself against his neck and squeezed him tight. "Oh, Rain. Thank you.”«It pleases me to bring you joy, shei'tani.» Her happiness was contagious. No tairen could ever grow bored of the sky, but sharing it with her, feeling her joy, made Rain recall the thrill of his first flight, the laughing exaltation, the feeling of immense freedom, the knowledge that he was a master of the world and anything was possible. He wanted to give her plea-sure, open the world to her, and stand by her side as she discovered its wonders. There was so much he could show her—literally an entire world. For the first time in a long, long while, Rain was glad to be alive, glad to be Fey and a Tairen Soul. «Where would you like to go, Ellysetta?»

He felt her eagerness, her excitement. "I don't care. I just want to fly.”«Then hold tight.»

He folded his wings, and they plummeted fast and hard, diving towards the earth. Ellysetta screamed with laughter and held tight to the saddle, fearless even as the ground rushed up to meet them. Rain's heart swelled at her trust and complete lack of fear. His wings spread wide, and the rapid dive became a swooping ascent that left Ellysetta breathless yet still laughing.With joy in his heart, Rain Tairen Soul soared across the sky.

Den Brodson smiled as he watched thin, gangly little Tomy Sorris scribble the last of his notes on the pages spread out before him. "You have it all, then?" The pair of them sat in the private back room at the Charging Boar. A nearly empty pint of Red Skull sat on the scarred wooden table before Den, and a half glass of well-watered ale sat before the printer's son.

"I do. Thanks for the story, Den!" Tomy tipped his ink- stained wool cap with one hand while the other busied itself stuffing the pages into his satchel. "It's a beaut. And I'm grateful you took time to write most of it down for me first. The less I have to write, the quicker Da can get it into print.”

"No problem at all, Tomy. Give your Da my best. And be sure he uses that one paragraph I showed you, exactly as I've written it." Those words, Batay had promised him, would sway simple minds, in particular the minds of readers who rarely thought for themselves. A spell of persuasion, buried not in the ink or the paper used to write them, but tied to the very words themselves. Already, Den had met and distributed the copied pages to half a dozen pamphleteers and newspaper writers.

"I will," the printer's boy promised. "Exactly as it's written.”

"And don't use my name, remember. I don't want to get my Da in trouble with the king." Den pasted a sober expression on his face. "I just want to see justice for Ellie. Sold out, she was. Sold out to a murderous sorcerer for a chest of magic-cursed gold.”

"Ooh, that's good." Tomy paused to scratch Den's words down on the last piece of paper before stuffing it away and carefully stowing his ink and pen. He straightened and scratched his head. "But, you know, Ellie's always fancied the Fey. Maybe she's happy with the way things have turned out”

"Women fancy tigers," Den snapped. "Doesn't mean they want to bed down with the beasts." He lifted his now-warm mug of Red Skull and downed the last quarter pint. "No, she's been ensorcelled. Her whole family has. And it's up to us—plain folk like you and me, Tomy—to save her.”

The boy squared his shoulders and nodded. "You're right, Den. I'll do my part. People have a right to know what the Fey are up to.”

"Indeed they do." Den clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder and escorted him out the Charging Boar's back door. He waited for the boy to disappear down the alleyway before closing the door and making his way back into the main pub. "Thanks, Briggs." He waved to the bartender as he walked past.

"No problem, Den. You off, then?”

Den nodded. "To church”

"Church?" Briggs threw back his head and laughed. "That's a good one, Den!”

Den grinned. "I know. Can't hardly believe it myself. I'll make an offering at one of the altars for you, eh?”

Briggs snickered and shook his head.

Den pushed through the pub's brass-and-leaded-glass doors and turned left down King's Road. He'd actually been telling Briggs the truth, though only because he knew the man would never believe it. His next destination lay about two miles down, in one of the rougher areas of town, where the Brethren of Radiance had set up a mission to minister to the poor and the godless of Celieria City. Founded more than a century ago by a zealous Church of Light priest who'd spent too many years in the north, the Brethren despised magic in all its forms.

Den patted his coat pocket and smiled at the crinkling noise of several more sheaves of folded paper. Yes, indeed, he could already feel the Bright Lord's Radiance shining upon him.