The copy was better than nothing - and he had the folio. But he wanted the box back. Darm was sure it was from his real parents, that they'd wanted him to have it, even if they couldn't offer him anything else.

The people who raised him were kind and took good care of him - the doubt about them just wouldn't go away. He still didn't have any proof, just the sense that they weren't his parents.

But ... were his kind born? Mortals were born, eternals were created? It had never bothered him but ... Why did his real parents leave him? ... Which brought him to what he didn't want to think about. The little bits and pieces of memories that were coming to him - flashes now and then.

A vague question he'd never asked - he'd been so drunk at the time. He'd mentioned the box, then Kiata had said something about a bad omen ... He pushed it away. He wasn't ready for that.

The bed squeaked as he made himself leave the toasty blankets he'd buried himself in. He wandered around the spartan room. Three of the walls were stone, carved right out of a cliff face. The one with the door in it was made of logs and there were still bits of bark hanging here and there. There was one window - over the sink.

He went into a room beside the nice, hot woodstove. Ah - the can. When he came back out of there, he opened the only other door. It led to a bedroom. And that was it.

They hadn't been here long, not that he knew where 'here' was. The moon, nearly full, had come up as they got close. The lone, square light from the window had stood out, glowing among the unfamiliar mountains. Dark, creepy looking, not like the light gray, snow-capped peaks where they'd been since the cold weather set in. An old man had greeted them, then took Sleg off somewhere, leaving him to his own devices.

He couldn't get loose from the worries. The daemons, the Brethren, thought it was risky for him not to have the portfolio and the keys? ... Sleg still hadn't said much or cracked a smile. He must have made quite the mess with that monster.

Double nuts! He had to remember not to use that word. He'd called the daemon he'd mistaken for a statue that - and after bawling him out for it, Sleg hadn't opened his mouth. Well, it was his own fault he got yelled at. It was a huge daemon, but it wasn't anything bad. Intimidating. His eyes squeezed shut involuntarily. Understatement -

Screams, howls, like wild cats fighting to the death erupted - close! He ran for the door but it flew open before he got to it. The old man was screeching at Sleg, who now hovered in the middle of the room. Darm backed into the corner. They both looked at him and shut right up.

Sleg landed and tucked his wings in. Then he grabbed the pack and pulled out a pair of Darm's pants, a shirt, and a pair of socks. "Lend me boots, Huai. I've had enough freezing for one day."

The old guy pointed toward a hutch in the corner as he shuffled to the counter. He filled the sink with water and scrubbed his well-wrinkled tanned face, then shook his hands all around, ignoring the cloth hanging on the doorknob.

Sleg had a pair of tall, black boots out of the little closet and was pulling them on. "I have a meeting. Huai will feed you. Tell him about your appointment with the Brethren. He might be able to answer your questions." He walked out, paying no attention to their host.

Darm still hadn't figured out how Sleg could wear his clothes. And those boots couldn't possibly fit, but -

"Wants an awful lot for nothing," Huai spat. He puttered around the kitchen putting supper together, then took a hot kettle off the woodstove and made tea. The table was set. "But I suppose that's not your problem, Darmon Zolod. Sit and have some cheese and bread with me."

Darm settled into a chair closest to the big plate of food, licking his lips. Huai slid the dish his way and he snatched the thickest slice, then stuck two big hunks of butter-colored cheese on top of it. The crust was more than chewy enough to slow him down. A good thing - it tasted heavenly.

Fragrant steam rose from the shiny, black teapot, and he took a few seconds to fill the two big cups from it.

The old man looked up from his sparsely covered plate. "Long ago, the Master told me of a spirit with the name, Zolod. Good fortune has made a chain. While I've always known Sleg, I've not told him that tale. Today a bargain brings us together - and an eternal with that very name comes along with it! I take this as a good omen, although I admit I've not come across an aura such as you have.

"I wouldn't think you're an irhandi, proper. If you were, you'd have kin chasing after you. They're few and far between and they know their own. It's curious you've never met your kind. I suspect it's because there are none here. Practitioners of Kispu, yes, but they don't resonate with you.

"But you were already thinking as much ... You want evidence, though. Wise. My story might serve as a useful hypothesis. I see you've enjoyed the food. I'll eat while you talk."

Darm stared at Huai, confused, then caught himself. "The Brethren actually care whether I'm a sorcerer or not? Or what I am?" The man was good at reading his thoughts -

"I can't eat and talk at the same time!" He stuffed a hunk of bread in his mouth and chewed vigorously.

"I went to get the book - the Book of Kamugals - that's what I've been told it's called." He wasn't sure that it was - oh, later. "Something happened, but I've only started to remember." He paused, hoping Huai would jump in, that he knew something. His eyes were glittering turquoise now, not brown like they were. Another disguised daemon. And he wasn't about to say anything, that was clear.

"The door opened as I was trying to leave with the book," Darm went on. Something - someone - was standing there, but the light was so bright I couldn't see. It's come back to me. It had a head, two arms, two legs, but it was so shiny, I guess it wasn't very obvious. And there was a sound. I could barely stand it, it was so loud."

Huai swallowed his last bite and closed his eyes. "I have a notion. But before I say, I must go visit the Master." He got up from his chair, quickly gathered the dishes, and took them to the sink. "I'm tired. You can have that room." He pointed at the door leading to the bedroom.

So much for asking questions. Darm got up and grabbed his pack. "Thanks for the theory - and supper."

"Thanks for the company. And the Brethren do care. They have to decide what's appropriate and they have to know who you are to do that. Better for you if they hurry it up. Too easy to offend them. They're a picky -"

A horrible racket filled the air, cutting him off. Darm bolted for the door, but the old man got there first.

"Stay in here!" he shouted over the noise.

It was Sleg, Darm knew it. And that he was hurt, that he was in trouble. He didn't even think, just levitated Huai up and to the side of the door, then yanked it open.

The moon was still shining bright and he could see a figure far above, plummeting straight down. Sleg! He couldn't fly - he was going to hit the ground.

Darm tore outside, screaming, "No!"