“Oar!” the Captain yelled. “Oar! That’s twenty-five hundred miles!”

“Add another hundred or two to the Barrowland.”

He stared at the maps. “Great. Just great. That means not just the Plain of Fear but the Empty Hills and the Windy Country too. Just fandamntastic great. I suppose we’ve got to get there next week?”

Goblin shook his head. “She didn’t seem rushed, Captain. Just upset and wanting us headed the right way.”

“She give you any whys or wherefores?”

Goblin smirked. Did the Lady ever? Hell, no.

“Just like that,” the Captain muttered. “Out of the blue. Orders to hike halfway around the world. I love it.” He told the Lieutenant to begin preparations for movement.

It was bad news, mad news, insanity squared, but not as bad as he made out. He had been preparing since receiving the courier letter. It wasn’t that hard to get rolling. The trouble was, nobody wanted to roll.

The west was far nicer than anything we’d known out here, but not so great anybody wanted to walk that far.

Surely she could have summoned a closer unit?

We are the victims of our own competence. She always wants us where the going threatens to become toughest. She knows we will do the best job.

Damn and double damn.

Shed had given Krage only nine of ten leva. The coin he held back bought firewood, wine, and beer to replenish his stocks. Then other creditors caught wind of his prosperity. A slight upturn in business did him no good. He met his next payment to Krage by borrowing from a moneylender named Gilbert. He found himself wishing somebody would die. Another ten leva would put him in striking distance of getting through the winter. It was a hard one, that winter. Nothing moved in the harbor. There was no work in the Buskin. Shed’s only bit of good fortune was Asa. Asa brought wood whenever he got away from Krage, in a pathetic effort to buy a friend. Asa arrived with a load. Privately, he said, “Better watch out, Shed. Krage heard about you borrowing from Gilbert.” Shed went grey. “He’s got a buyer for the Lily lined up. They’re rounding up girls already.”

Shed nodded. The whoremasters recruited desperate women this time of year. By the time summer brought its sailors, they were broken to their trade.

“The bastard. Made me think he’d given me a break. I should have known better. This way he gets my money and my place. The bastard.” “Well, I warned you.” “Yeah. Thanks, Asa.” Shed’s next due date came on like a juggernaut. Gilbert refused him another loan. Smaller creditors besieged the Lily. Krage was aiming them Shed’s way.

He took Raven a complimentary drink. “May I sit?” A hint of a smile crossed Raven’s lips. “It’s your place.” And: “You haven’t been friendly lately. Shed.”

“I’m nervous,” Shed lied. Raven irritated his conscience. “Worried about my debts.” Raven saw through the excuse. “You thought maybe I could help?” Shed almost groaned. “Yes.”

Raven laughed softly. Shed thought he detected a note of triumph. “All right, Shed. Tonight?”

Shed pictured his mother being carted off by the Custodians. He swallowed his self-disgust. “Yeah.”

“All right. But this time you’re a helper, not a partner.” Shed swallowed and nodded. “Put the old woman to bed, then come back downstairs. Understand?”

“Yes,” Shed whispered.

“Good. Now go away. You irritate me.”

“Yes, sir.” Shed retreated. He couldn’t look anyone in the eye the rest of that day.

A bitter wind howled down the Port valley, freckled with flakes of snow. Shed huddled miserably, the wagon seat a bar of ice beneath him. The weather was worsening. “Why tonight?” he grumbled.

“Best time.” Raven’s teeth chattered. “We’re not likely to be seen.” He turned into Chandler’s Lane, off which innumerable narrow alleyways ran. “Good hunting territory here. In this weather they crawl back in the alleys and die like flies.”

Shed shivered. He was too old for this. But that was why he was here. So he wouldn’t have to face the weather every night.

Raven stopped the wagon. “Check that passageway.”

Shed’s feet started aching the instant he put weight on them. Good. At least he felt something. They weren’t frozen.

There was little light in the alley. He searched more by feel than sight. He found one lump under an overhang, but it stirred and muttered. He ran.

He reached the wagon as Raven dumped something into the bed. Shed averted his eyes. The boy couldn’t have been more than twelve. Raven concealed the body with straw. “That’s one. Night like this, we ought to find a load.”

Shed choked his protests, resumed his seat. He thought about his mother. She wouldn’t last one night in this.

Next alley he found his first corpse. The old man had fallen and frozen because he couldn’t get up again. Aching in his soul.

Shed dragged the body to the wagon.

“Going to be a good night,” Raven observed. “No competition. The Custodians won’t come out in this.” Softly: “I hope we can make the hill.” Later, after they had moved to the waterfront and each had found another corpse, Shed asked, “Why’re you doing this?” “I need money, too. Got a long way to travel. This way I get a lot, fast, without much risk.”

Shed thought the risks far greater than Raven would admit. They could be torn apart. “You’re not from Juniper, are you?”

“From the south. A shipwrecked sailor.”

Shed did not believe it. Raven’s accent was not at all right for that, mild though it was. He hadn’t the nerve to call the man a liar, though, and press for the truth.

The conversation continued by fits and starts. Shed didn’t uncover anything more of Raven’s background or motives.

“Go that way,” Raven told him. “I’ll check over here. Last stop, Shed. I’m done in.”

Shed nodded. He wanted to get the night over. To his disgust, he had begun seeing the street people as objects, and he hated them for dying in such damned inconvenient places.

He heard a soft call, turned back quickly. Raven had one. That was enough. He ran to the wagon.

Raven was on the seat, waiting. Shed scrambled up, huddled, tucked his face away from the wind. Raven kicked the mules into motion.

The wagon was halfway across the bridge over the Port when Shed heard a moan. “What?” One of the bodies was moving! “Oh. Oh, shit, Raven...”

“He’s going to die anyway.”

Shed huddled back down, stared at the buildings on the north bank. He wanted to argue, wanted to fight, wanted to do anything to deny his part in this atrocity.

He looked up an hour later and recognized nothing. A few large houses flanked the road, widely spaced, their windows dark. “Where are we?”

“Almost there. Half an hour, unless the road is too icy.”

Shed imagined the wagon sliding into a ditch. What then? Abandon everything and hope the rig couldn’t be traced? Fear replaced loathing.

Then he realized where they were. There wasn’t anything up here but that accursed black castle. “Raven...”

“What’s the matter?”

“You’re head for the black castle.”

“Where’d you think we were going?”

“People live there?”

“Yes. What’s your problem?”

Raven was a foreigner. He couldn’t understand how the black castle affected Juniper. People who got too close disappeared. Juniper preferred to pretend that the place did not exist.

Shed stammered out his fears. Raven shrugged. “Shows your ignorance.”

Shed saw the castle’s dark shape through the snow. The fall was lighter on the ridge, but the wind was more fierce. Resigned, he muttered, “Let’s get it over with.”

The shape resolved into battlements, spires, towers. Not a light shown anywhere. Raven halted before a tall gate, went forward on foot. He banged a heavy knocker. Shed huddled, hoping there would be no response.