To Iarius' fortune, Magus Urapius agreed to reassign him after confirming with the Prefect that Nessalir was real and that she had been hired for a job. To his misfortune, the Prefect also confirmed that the particular Nessalir had taken was the task of hunting down the very same bandits that had ambushed the Equines.

  "Well, well," the Magus had said, not even bothering to hide his amusement at this turn of events. "It seems you may be able to confirm your theory about how many attackers ambushed the Pilus and his men. Is that not felicitous?"

  Iarius was not sure that was the word he'd use.

  The Prefect intended to extend an invitation to Nessalir to meet with himself and the Magus in the morning, so that Iarius' position could properly be explained to the mercenary. If she accepted his presence, then the two would doubtless head out into the wilderness shortly thereafter. If she did not, then Iarius would likely be assigned to a different Century.

  It was strange, but Iarius thought perhaps that he might prefer her to reject him. He was a scholar, and throwing himself into danger with but a single woman to protect him was not a part of his vocation. And yet at the same time, Iarius found himself looking forward to the upcoming adventure. He doubted he would ever get another opportunity to observe a virem draconem in the flesh.

  Back and forth he went. The danger shifted in his mind from terrifying to exciting and then back to terrifying. Iarius could deny within himself the indecision nor the uncertainty which plagued him. Thus, as the sun began to sink below the horizon, and the body of Lansa began faintly to illuminate the night sky, Iarius made his way up the hill which overlooked Paeliig, and he arrived at the temple which stood there.

  It was a unique structure. Originally the temple was a round-ceilinged hall constructed by the native Northerners, a hole cut into the roof toward the back of it so that the stars might be observed there. The Remurans had largely kept the original structure intact, but had constructed a great stone dome over the observatory with a wide hole cut into its center. Carvings surrounded that window, denoting calculations and positions, so that the observer within could properly ascertain where in the night sky the stars sat. The dome covered half the original hall, and a new opening had been built within that hall so that the inner workings of the dome might be accessed. It was a building now of two layers; a marriage of the savage Northerner with the civilized Remuran.

  Iarius stepped through the doors of the entrance hall. Tablets and altars lined the sides, and a priest in yellow robes walked slowly through the temple, speaking in hushed tones with supplicants and producing sticks of incense from within his sleeve upon request. Iarius walked to an unused altar, and he knelt before it.

  A tablet loomed over the altar, upon which were carved three figures: the Wolf, the Horse, and the Crow. The shapes were punctuated by holes which had been bored into the stone, lining up with the stars of their respective constellations.

  These were the three pantheons who were patrons of Remura: the Wolf, loyal and fierce, the Horse, swift and strong, and the Crow, clever and always observant. Blue paint surrounded one star in each constellation, marking the god which ruled over that pantheon. Porganta in the Wolf's mouth, Teir in the Horse's breast, and Ozmium in the Crow's eye. These were the gods who favored Remura, and it was to them and the stars which followed them that Iarius would pray.

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  "You are troubled."

  The priest's voice was low and gentle. Its softness was well-practiced so as not to frighten the supplicants who came to the temple. Iarius looked over his shoulder at the yellow-robed clergyman.

  "I am troubled," Iarius agreed. "I may be travelling with a mercenary tomorrow, a half-breed who has accepted a job on the Empire's behalf."

  The priest nodded. "You fear what may happen."

  "I am a scholar," Iarius explained. "A historian. I was assigned to document the Equine Century, and yet I fear I may have made an enemy of their Pilus. This mercenary is already known to me, and I think we may become friends, but it will be only one warrior between myself and death, where before there were many. I could simply observe a different Century, and yet when I think of how the Empire may benefit from the knowledge of this half-breed…"

  Again the priest nodded. "You seek guidance," he said, "on how best to serve Remura."

  "Yes," said Iarius.

  From his robes, the priest withdrew a stick of incense. "Place it in the center bowl," he said, "and strike the flint upon the iron. Pray to the gods, and let the stars guide you."

  "Thank you," said Iarius, accepting the stick. He placed in the iron bowl the priest had indicated, the one in the center of the altar. He picked up the flint which lay beside it and struck it against the side of the bowl until the sparks landed upon the incense and caught it alight.

  Iarius closed his eyes and breathed deeply of the spicy scent. He let his thoughts drift; to Nessalir, to his family in Megorias, to the Acadaemium and the Equine Century and the Magus' office. He saw in his memory the arrows which had sailed through the air earlier that day, and he heard again the cries of the soldiers around him.

  And then, in his mind's eye, he saw through the foliage and the branches which had obscured the archers, and Iarius beheld hidden in the trees but two bandits. Each moved swiftly and with great agility, repositioning themselves between each shot, mimicking the attacks of a greater force.

  Something struck Iarius' chest, sharp and cold—an arrow. His eyes opened, but not before he caught a glimpse of a woman watching him from behind his eyelids, who had black feathers woven into her golden hair. In an instant, the woman was gone, and Iarius was back in the temple, his eyes burning and his thoughts slow and heavy. He looked to the carvings of the pantheons upon the tablet, and he gasped at what he saw there.

  Shadows danced upon the Crow, and the Crow only. The blue around Ozmium shone and shimmered with an unnatural brilliance, and though the priest had left, and though Iarius knew he was alone, he felt hot breath against his ear.

  He stared transfixed at the glowing representation of Ozmium, and he heard a voice, whispered so low that he could discern no identifying traits from it; no gender or age or anything of the sort.

  "Watch her," the voice told him. "Her destiny lies with Remura."