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out of existence.
"Who's following me?"
Patchy eyebrows raised. "Now you confuse me with Omnipotence. That I don't know, and you have a
bit of time left. Spend it with me?"
"Do I have to cross your palms with silver?"
Gillander chuckled. "It would be difficult to try. Drop rein and sit with me, my boy."
Blade felt as though he had an iron bar frozen against his spine. The invitation went counter to every
ounce of common sense he had. With a swiftness of movement as though cutting himself loose, he
swung his leg over and dismounted. Cindy put her muzzle up and rolled her eyes, the whites showing,
but stayed put in a ground-tie, as promised.
Thomas sat also. He reached out and his hand passed through the frayed cuffs and spindly forearms. He
had expected it, but he had not expected the icy chill that accompanied the action.
Gillander put his hands out, palms facing. Thomas mimicked the action, his hands moving until almost,
but not quite touching. As the warmth of his body touched the icy barrier of death, his aura flared out,
and a corona of blue fire ringed the four hands.
"I have to move and move fast. The night Denethan attacked and you saved the perimeter you moved
time. I want to know how. Now tell me," Blade said, "and tell me true, or I'll find a way to rip the guts
out of you as surely as I would Denethan's."
The ghost grinned.
Chapter 5
The sight of Gillander's bared teeth almost changed Thomas' mind. He shrugged mentally, and let his
breathing even out and his thoughts shift into a more receptive mode. He felt his gills flare, prickling
against the scarf. The auras of their nearly touching palms became clearer, more sharply defined.
"What do you wish me to tell you first?" the ghost asked mildly.
"Whatever you would have me know, Gill." Thomas bit back his sharper, more urgent needs.
"Then I would tell you that a Protector never, ever, leaves his territory. You are tied to it. Your energies
are rooted there."
A sharp pebble under one lean hip ground at Blade. He nodded in answer to the ghost. "I know."
"Then you may not realize this. You're a naturalist, my boy. Your energies are grounded, bled out by
artificial things. You feel it without realizing it that's why the ruins excite you. There you're as blind
as any man, walking the edge, and your blood runs hotter, knowing the danger."
His head shook in denial, an independent movement that Thomas had not ordered.
A whuff of disapproval as the other's aura flared, orange-red, against his hands. "The more fool you."
Blade felt his gaze narrow despite his attempt to stay aloof yet receptive. "I'm an enforcer as well as a
Protector," he said sharply. "My skills in that domain move with me."
"A murderer." The ghost sighed. The scent of his breath, faintly foul, drifted past Thomas' face. "Not
what I would have taught you if I had had the time."
"Then teach me now."
"Impossible!" Gillander clucked his tongue over his teeth, making a sound as physical as if he still
existed in flesh and blood, bone and ivory. "Still& what are you doing tromping on my deathbed?"
"Trailing."
"Someone important, I gather. Most important if you want to know how I moved time itself."
Blade said nothing. The ghost reared up high, elongating itself in the torso until it towered above his
body. He did not even look up, forcing Gillander to shrink back in order to meet his eyes.
"For god's sake," his old mentor sputtered. "Do you think I would tell your secrets even now? To
whom? I hate Denethan more than ever. Out there, on that hillside, my bones rub cartilage of his folk&
my flesh decayed next to their scales. I smell the stink of their wrongness. They are not even human!"
Thomas relented. He said only, "I'm following hope."
The night grew very chill about them, though the fog from the coast gave them a wide berth and
hesitated even to cross the broken road track Blade could see clearly through Gillander's opaque form.
"Saaa," murmured the old man. "Babes. Charles found his genetic pair. I knew we were close& and
he's sent them away to hide them. How are they traveling, Thomas? Did you brew up this mist? It
stinks of the sea."
"No." He felt his face twist in a smile. "Wyethe and Alderman."
"Ha! I'd like to give those two old farts an ache in their joints for that." Gillander wavered a little. Red
flames came to life in his eyes, then died out. "But I interrupted you, boy."
"I'm trailing a paralight."
"It'll be beached, then. Just enough range to get them away from Denethan's gliders, probably."
Gillander sucked hollow teeth in thought.
"Yes."
"How many riders?"
"Just two."
The flame points winked up again. "You'll never keep up by horseback. That contraption travels as far
in an hour as you can in a day."
"There's a lot of fog this time of year," Thomas answered noncommittally.
"You'll need more than fog to keep out of Denethan's way. Ah. Now I know why you palaver with
ghosts. Do I hear Denethan following? No. But I have no ears for wind raiders& I can only hear what
strikes the ground. Hoofbeats. Yours and those of that other who follows you. Perhaps I'm wrong.
Perhaps fog will stand you better than I thought. Although& " and Gillander's reedy voice hung on the
word.
Blade's attention wandered. The ghost seemed mainly lonely despite Thomas' original hopes for real
information. The broken cityscape beckoned. Under slabs of concrete and rusted wire forms stabbing
the night like lethal spears lay the secrets of a dead city. And despite what Gillander had offered earlier,
wolfrats were running across the horizon. He saw the flashes of their red eyes, tiny pinpricks of rodent
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