I shed my weapons, lighted a lamp, picked one of the document bundles, turned to my worktable. And there lay another of those packets from the west.

Croaker:

Bomanz walked his dreams with a woman who could not make him understand her words. The green path of promise led past moon-eating dogs, hanged men, and sentries without faces. Through breaks in the foliage he glimpsed a sky-spanning comet.

He did not sleep well. The dream invariably awaited him when he dozed off. He did not know why he could not slide down into deep sleep. As nightmares went, this was mild.

Most of the symbolism was obvious, and most of it he refused to heed.

Night had fallen when Jasmine brought tea and asked, “Are you going to lie here all week?”

“I might.”

“How are you going to sleep tonight?”

“I probably won’t till late. I’ll work in the shbp. What’s Stance been up to?”

“He slept a while, went and brought a load from the site, pottered around the shop, ate, and went back out when somebody came to say Men fu was out there again.”

“What about Besand?”

“It’s all over town. The new Monitor is furious because he didn’t leave. Says he won’t do anything about it. The Guards are calling him a horse’s ass. They won’t take his orders. He’s getting madder and madder.”

“Maybe he’ll learn something. Thanks for the tea. Is there anything to eat?”

“Leftover chicken. Get it yourself. I’m going to bed.”

Grumbling, Bomanz ate cold, greasy chicken wings, washing them down with tepid beer. He thought about his dream. His ulcer gave him a nip. His head started aching. “Here we go,” he muttered, and dragged himself upstairs.

He spent several hours reviewing the rituals he would use to leave his body and slide through the hazards of the Barrowland... Would the dragon be a problem? Indications were, it was meant for physical intruders. Finally: “It’ll work. As long as that sixth barrow is Moondog’s.” He sighed, leaned back, closed his eyes.

The dream began. And midway through he found himself staring into green ophidian eyes. Wise, cruel, mocking eyes. He started awake.

“Pop? You up there?”

“Yeah. Come on up.”

Stancil pushed into the room. He looked awful.

“What happened?”

“The Barrowland... The ghosts are walking.”

“They do that when the comet gets close. I didn’t expect them so soon. Must be going to get frisky this time. That’s no call to get shook up.”

“Wasn’t that. I expected that. That I could handle. No. It’s Besand and Men fu.”

“What?”

“Men fu tried to get into the Barrowland with Besand’s amulet.”

“I was right! That little... Go on.”

“He was at the dig. He had the amulet. He was scared to death. He saw me coming and headed downhill. When he got near where the moat used to be, Besand came out of nowhere, screaming and waving a sword. Men fu started running. Besand kept after him. It’s pretty bright out there, but I lost track when they got up around the Howler’s barrow. Besand must have caught him. I heard them yelling and rolling around in the brush. Then they started screaming.”

Stancil stopped. Bomanz waited.

“I don’t know how to describe it, Pop. I never heard sounds like that. AH the ghosts piled onto the Howler’s barrow. It went on a long time. Then the screaming started getting closer.”

Stancil, Bomanz concluded, had been shaken deeply. Shaken the way a man is when his basic beliefs are uprooted. Odd. “Go on.”

“It was Besand. He had the amulet, but it didn’t help. He didn’t make it across the moat. He dropped it. The ghosts jumped him. He’s dead, Pop. The Guards were all out there... They couldn’t do anything but look. The Monitor wouldn’t give them amulets so they could get him.”

Bomanz folded his hands on the tabletop, stared at them. “So now we have two men dead. Three counting the one last night. How many will we have tomorrow night? Will I have to face a platoon of new ghosts?”

“You’re going to do it tomorrow night?”

“That’s right. With Besand gone there’s no reason to delay it. Is there?”

“Pop... Maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe the knowledge out there should stay buried.”

“What’s this? My son parroting my misgivings?”

“Pop, let’s don’t fight. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe I was wrong. You know more about the Barrowland than me.”

Bomanz stared at his son. More boldly than he felt, he said, “I’m going in. It’s time to put doubts aside and get on with it. There’s the list. See if there’s an area of inquiry that I’ve forgotten.”

“Pop...”

“Don’t argue with me, boy.” It had taken him all evening to shed the ingrained Bomanz persona and surface the wizard so long and artfully hidden. But he was out now.

Bomanz went to a comer where a few seemingly innocuous objects were piled. He stood taller than usual. He moved more precisely, more quickly. He began piling things on the table. “When you go back to Oar, you can tell my old classmates what became of me.” He smiled thinly. He could recall a few who would shudder even now, knowing he had studied at the Lady’s knee. He’d never forgotten, never forgiven. And they knew him that well.

Stancil’s pallor had disappeared. Now he was uncertain. This side of the father had not been seen since before the son’s birth. It was outside his experience. “Do you want to go out there, Pop?”

“You brought back the essential details. Besand is dead. Men fu is dead. The Guards aren’t going to get excited.”

“I thought he was your friend.”

“Besand? Besand had no friends. He had a mission... What’re you looking at?”

“A man with a mission?”

“Could be. Something kept me here. Take this stuff downstairs. We’ll do it in the shop.”

“Where do you want it?”

“Doesn’t matter. Besand was the only one who could have separated it from the junk.”

Stancil went out. Later, Bomanz finished a series of mental exercises and wondered what had become of the boy. Stance hadn’t returned. He shrugged, went on.

He smiled. He was ready. It was going to be simple.

The town was in an uproar. A Guard had tried to assassinate the new Monitor. The Monitor was so bewildered and frightened he had locked himself in his quarters. Crazy rumors abounded.

Bomanz walked through it with such calm dignity that he startled people who had known him for years. He went to the edge of the Barrowland, considered his long-time antagonist. Besand lay where he had fallen. The flies were thick. Bomanz threw a handful of dirt. The insects scattered. He nodded thoughtfully. Besand’s amulet had disappeared again.

Bomanz located Corporal Husky. “If you can’t do anything to get Besand out, then toss dirt in on him. There’s a mountain around my pit.”

“Yes, sir,” Husky said, and only later seemed startled by his easy acquiescence.

Bomanz walked the perimeter of the Barrowland. The sun shone a little oddly through the comet’s tail. Colors were a trifle strange. But there were no ghosts aprowl now. He saw no reason not to make his communication attempt. He returned to the village.

Wagons stood before the shop. Teamsters were busy loading them. Jasmine shrilled inside, cursing someone who had taken something he shouldn’t. “Damn you, Tokar,” Bomanz muttered. “Why today? You could have waited till it was over.” He felt a fleeting concern. He could not rely on Stance if the boy were distracted. He shoved into the shop.

“It’s grand!” Tokar said of the horse. “Absolutely magnificent. You’re a genius, Bo.”

“You’re a pain in the butt. What’s going on here? Who the hell are all these people?”

“My drivers. My brother Clete. My sister Glory. Stance’s Glory. And our baby sister Snoopy. We called her that because she was always spying on us.”

“Pleased to meet you all. Where’s Stance?”