They broke into the woods and left the road to Silverymoon- and safety-behind.

Greyt's rangers were up long into the night, pounding on doors and interrogating townsfolk, looking always for the two knights-one huge, and one tiny. After a short skirmish, the knights had disappeared, and try as the rangers might, the knights were nowhere to be found. Oaths, growls, threats, and even the clashing of weapons filled the air, and little of Quaervarr got any sleep.

Meanwhile, on the edge of town, beneath the eaves of a certain Bullot Feyfoot's stables, a loud oath was heard, seeming to come from the air. A stray dog, hearing the curse, yipped and backed off from the invisible barrier its nose had struck just an instant earlier.

"Derst, where the Hells are you?" Bars asked aloud. The invisible paladin shifted and almost lost his balance, nearly falling to the cobblestones. He could not, after all, see his feet.

"Right here, actually," came a voice from beside him. The suddenness made Bars jump, then fall.

"Beshaba's horns!" Bars covered his mouth as though to pull back the foul words. Since he couldn't see his hand, he poked himself in one invisible eye.

"Watch yourself there, you big oaf," said Derst. "You almost crushed me!"

"I can't 'watch myself,' orc-brain!" shouted Bars. "Your Tyr-cursed potions made us invisible, remember?"

"Well, obviously…" he trailed off. "I always find invisibility comfortable, don't you?"

"How do you turn the damned things off?" growled Bars. "I feel… disconnected, as though I'm outside my body. A ghost." Like Walker, was his next thought, with a chill.

"Oh, you're all right," replied Derst in a tone that indicated he had rolled his eyes. "Well, I suppose I'm used to it, and my senses are a little sharper than yours. I'm tempted to just leave the invisibility on and let your small brain figure it out." Bars felt a heavy tap on his shoulder, a light push, and Derst shimmered back into visibility.

"See, it's that simple," said the wiry knight. "You remember how I told you not to hit anyone until-" Then a heavy force struck his stomach, and the smaller man doubled over with a gasp.

The paladin faded into view. "You're right, that was simple," said Bars, cracking his knuckles.

Derst just moaned.

"Funny, didn't mean to hit you so hard. Right then, Sir-Plans-A-Lot, what now?"

Slowly, Derst recovered himself and stood up straight. "To the stable," he muttered. "There's a trap door, used by those who Har-er, do business with me, in certain unpleasant circumstances a little like these. Tight quarters, though."

"Joyous," Bars said glumly.

28 Tarsakh

Arya did not know how long they had been traveling through the forest, Swiftfall picking her way between fallen limbs and avoiding holes in the ground. The deeper they went, the darker it became and the less at ease she felt. The silence of their ride did not help. Walker was far from talkative. Nightmares had gripped him earlier, and he had called out strange words she had not recognized, but they seemed to have passed, leaving him silent.

At first, she had filled the quiet with the tale of how she came to be in Quaervarr, of the vanished couriers, and of her suspicions about Greyt. Now, the knight divided her focus between ducking under tree branches and thinking about the mysterious man slumped against her back. He had long since stopped murmuring, and now she didn't know if he were even still breathing.

"Walker?" she asked. "Still with me back there?"

When there was no response, Arya turned her head back to look at Walker. He sat slumped, eyes closed, on the back of the horse. "Walker?" she asked in a frightened whisper. "Are you-still alive?"

His eyes flickered open and his intense blue gaze found her worried face.

"Of course," said Walker. "I shall speak up if I feel about to expire."

Arya looked away, hiding her relief. At first, she was upset he had frightened her, and that his voice had been almost mocking, but she laughed. It was appropriate, since she had sounded like a frightened little girl.

"Was that a jest?" she asked with a half smile.

Walker did not reply except to release her waist.

"What's the matter?" asked Arya, worried again, clutching at his hand. He felt so cold, even through the glove.

"I can sit on my own," Walker said. She heard a tiny elf touch to his voice.

"You've lost that much blood and now you can sit on your own?" Arya asked, doubtful.

"Healing." His rasping voice was soft.

"No one heals that fast," Arya said. "You were on Kelemvor's doorstep when I pulled you onto Swiftfall's back. How-"

Walker's right hand came up from her side. In the moonlight, a tiny sapphire glistened from within a silver wolf's head ring wrapped around the fourth finger.

"You have many secrets, it seems," said the knight with a nod of approval. "Lone wolf."

Walker nodded. Looking away, Arya bit her lip in thought. She was familiar with rings that healed their wearers-a warrior in the field did not always have a priest's healing at hand-and how powerful such rings could be. Still, she did not know how healed he was.

"Put your arms back around me," Arya said finally. "I don't want you falling off-I'm too tired to pick you up again."

Walker hesitated, but he did as he was told. She supposed the order was half for his benefit and half for hers. It was bitterly cold and though his arms were not overly warm, Arya welcomed them. His proximity reassured her against the dark of the forest.

That was what she told herself, at least.

"Talk to me," said Arya after a moment. "I've told you all about myself; what about you?"

"What shall I tell?" asked Walker. His voice still rasped, but he did not sound so deathly now. "I walk with ghosts. I have my task. That is all."

"Your task… you mean killing people?" She felt him wince at her harsh tone, and she quickly amended. "People who wronged you? Hurt someone you loved? Greyt? The others?"

Walker said nothing and silence fell again.

"I'm still not convinced you're not the one attacking those couriers, you know," Arya observed after a moment. "It's quite a coincidence, that I run into you exactly when I'm investigating those attacks-"

"Yet you aid me now," Walker replied. "Why?"

Arya paused. "My… Lord Greyt wants you dead, and that's enough for me." She was not sure why, but she stopped herself from drawing a connection with her step-uncle. "The same man is trying to kill us both, whatever his plans might be. Then the man's son, gods above, he's just as dangerous-"

Walker perked up. "Meris?" he asked, interrupting.

Then he stopped and looked around. "Wait." His arms were gone from around her waist.

Arya had been about to respond, but the urgency in his voice cut her off. "What is it?" she asked. Swiftfall whinnied and paced nervously.

"Something draws near," said Walker. "Something powerful."

He swung down from Swiftfall's back, landing on his feet and appearing not the least bit weakened.

"What is it?" she asked again.

"Stay there," Walker said. "I shall look."

Then he vanished into the air, as though he had never existed.

"Walker?" asked Arya, surprise in her voice. She could no longer even feel his living presence. She and Swiftfall seemed alone in the dark forest. "Walker!"

"Walker!" came her panicked cry.

The ghostwalker did not answer, but it was not out of rudeness. Rather, he understood that she would not have heard his voice had he spoken. Ethereal himself, he would be just as hidden from whatever approached.