Torgan ducked out of the way and pulled Trey's reins, making the horse veer off to the side.

Immediately two more wraiths did the same, coming directly at him again, so that once more he had to turn sharply. He'd barely recovered from that assault when a third pair swooped down at him. Soon they were diving toward him from every angle, so that he had to turn his horse repeatedly. It was as if he had stumbled upon a swarm of giant hornets. He did everything in his power to keep them from touching him, knowing that one mistake would mean his death. Torgan wasn't an accomplished rider, and he could feel the beast straining against his increasingly desperate attempts to turn. He also sensed that the horse was tiring. He tried reining the animal to a halt, but instantly the Fal'Borna wraiths altered their attacks and dove at him from the side. He had no choice but to spur his mount into motion again.

On and on it went. The wraiths, it seemed, were immune to fatigue, or perhaps by taking turns they kept themselves from growing weary. Torgan, though, could barely keep himself in the saddle. The muscles in his back, legs, and arms were on fire. His hands shook with exhaustion and terror. His breath came in great gasps and his clothes were soaked with sweat so that the cold night wind knifed through, chilling the merchant to the bone.

"You look tired, Torgan," Jasha called to him.

"Make them stop. Please."

"I could, you know," Jasha said.

"Then do. For pity's sake."

Abruptly, Jasha was beside him, matching Torgan's every movement as if the wraith were also on a horse. "Did you know that in the Deceiver's realm Eandi and white-hairs live together?"

Torgan dodged another assault, and then another.

"I hadn't known," Jasha went on, as if they were chatting over ales in some city inn. "I hadn't thought about it much, really. But if you'd asked me I would have told you that there must have been two underrealms; one for our kind and one for theirs." He shrugged. "I was wrong."

Two pairs of Fal'Borna ghosts dove at him simultaneously, one pair from the left, the other from the right. Torgan was forced to pivot first one way and then the other. Trey reared, nearly unseating him. And no sooner had Torgan righted himself than he saw another pair of ghosts streaking toward him. Again he turned the horse, and again it tried to throw him off.

"I can't help it!" he told the animal. "They're trying to kill me."

"No, we're not," Jasha said, beside him once more. "If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now."

"Then what? What is it you're trying to do to me?"

Still more of the wraiths flew toward him. Torgan fought his mount, trying to make the animal respond. But apparently Trey had reached his limit. Torgan pulled hard on the reins, frantic now. Wraiths were coming at him from both sides. If he didn't move they'd surely hit him. He yanked back with all his might. Trey reared once, twice, kicking out with his front hooves.

And Torgan tumbled back, slamming into the cold ground, the force of his landing knocking the breath from his lungs. He heard Trey bolt away, but before he could raise his head to see where the beast had gone, he found himself surrounded by the wraiths once more. They pressed in around him, staring down hungrily, their pale eyes like flames, their hair gleaming as if lit by the white moon. They began to reach for him. One might have thought that they could pluck the life from his body, so eager did they seem to touch him. Torgan huddled in a ball on the ground, trembling, cold, terrified, certain that he was about to die.

"Enough."

Jasha didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to. The wraiths sighed as one. Torgan could tell without looking that they had backed away from him. He opened his eyes slowly and unfolded his body. He felt ungainly, thick, dull. The wraiths still stared at him, their hair stirring slightly, though for the moment the wind on the plain had died away. From what he saw in the ghosts' eyes he could tell that they had broken off reluctantly, that they had yet to satisfy their desire for vengeance.

"Thank you, Jasha," Torgan whispered. He sat up, and his head began to spin. He tried to look past the wraiths to see where Trey had gone, but they blocked his view.

"Don't thank me," the young merchant said.

Torgan climbed to his feet, staggered a bit, but managed to remain upright. He thought he could see Trey a short distance off to the… the south? Torgan turned a slow circle, peering over the heads of the ghosts. He tried to spot something-anything-that might allow him to orient himself. He looked up at the sky, but it was still covered over with clouds. What time was it? How soon until morning?

"You seem confused, Torgan."

He looked at Jasha. Had this been their purpose all along? What had he said before? If we wanted to kill you, you'd be dead by now.

"Where will you go?" Jasha asked him. "Which way to Eandi land?" Torgan shook his head. "It doesn't matter. It's just a few hours. As soon as the sun starts to rise I'll know which way to go."

"And where will you sleep? You don't travel by day. We know you don't. That's very clever, by the way: resting when it's light and making your way eastward after nightfall? Very clever indeed. But where will you pass the night?"

Torgan looked around again, but could see little. The wraiths were too bright and the land beyond them too dark. He strained his ears, hoping to hear flowing water. There had to be woodlands nearby.

"What if there aren't?"

Torgan looked at Jasha again, but the wraith's face revealed nothing. He wasn't smiling anymore. He didn't appear to be gloating or mocking him. If anything, he looked slightly sad.

"You don't want the Fal'Borna to find me, Jasha." Torgan eyed the others. "None of you do. I still have more of that cursed basket."

An angry murmur rose from the wraiths.

He forced himself to look the ghosts in the eye, one by one. "If your purpose tonight was to ensure that I'll be captured by your fellow white-hairs, then you've made a terrible mistake. I would have gladly ridden the rest of the way to the Silverwater without hurting anyone else. But if I can only survive by bringing the plague to more septs, then that's what I'll do."

"Do you have the basket with you, Torgan?" Jasha asked.

"Of course I do. How do you think-?"

Jasha shook his head. "I mean with you. In your hand or in your pocket?"

"No, of course not. It's…" He trailed off, looking past the wraiths once more. Had he really seen Trey, or had he imagined it? What if the horse hadn't stopped a short distance off? What if it was still running even now?

"You've been very clever," Jasha said again. "But what will you do without that basket? What will you do without your horse, without your food, without a sleeping roll or a blanket? What will you do if you don't know where you are or which way you're supposed to go?"

Torgan was shaking again. And this time he couldn't blame it on exhaustion or the cold. "I'll survive," he said, his voice quavering. "That's what I've always done." He nodded. "One way or another, I'll make it to the wash."

Jasha nodded once. "We'll see."

An instant later, the wraiths were gone. Torgan blinked several times, but he couldn't see anything. He felt as if he'd been staring into a fire too long. He whistled. Nothing. He called out Trey's name, but the only sound he heard was the distant howl of a wild dog. He opened his mouth to shout for the horse again, but then stopped himself. What if there was a sept nearby? He took a step, stopped, looked around again. Which way was east? "Damn you, Jasha," he whispered.