After breakfast, they walked through the city, examining the houses and with amazement recognizing in them the black ruins they had seen less than a day before, when they first entered Ardrai. They went out through the southern gate, moving on foot along the road stretching westward through the ripening fields, leaving behind the gray fortress wall. On the left, the forest of Regerlim rustled on the horizon; ahead, its green ribbon merged with the gray outlines of the mountain ridge.

  "Today is the twelfth of June," said Kairu, peering into the distance spread before them. Wagons were passing by slowly, horses neighed, hooves clattered against the dusty road. "As far as I understood from Aok’s and Konrad’s stories, right now is that period when the expedition has already fallen apart, but at the same time all its participants are, one way or another, moving toward Ardrai and the Fire-Breathing Mountain. We know nothing about this period."

  "So what’s our plan?" Rita asked with a smirk. "Honestly, I didn’t have the time or strength to think about how insane and risky this venture is. But now—the more I think about it, the more questions I have."

  "I’ll try to explain." Kairu scratched the back of his head. "But only in broad strokes. The only date we know for certain is June sixteenth, when Petros, Saelin, Nubel, Konrad, and Hector ended up at the summit of the Fire-Breathing Mountain. By that time, Vergilius was already dead. Who killed him—we don’t know yet…"

  "Saelin isn’t the only candidate?"

  "I decided that until we get to the truth, we shouldn’t convince ourselves of anything. Everything will be decided on the night of the sixteenth. By then, I want to understand exactly how Petros and Saelin moved from the place where the aerostat crashed, I want to get up there and see, understand… Why they quarreled so bitterly that they still hate each other. And I want to know what the hell happened to Hector. And then…"

  "Then they part ways again," Rita curled her lips. "I know all that. But I don’t believe you came here just to watch and not interfere. Though that would be the wisest choice."

  "I want to catch Petros right before everything happens," said Kairu. "Find him, and be alone with him. And explain to him what all his actions will lead to in thirty years. Explain that whatever plan might later form in his head—it’s a bad plan. Maybe one side effect of that conversation will be that, when we return to our time, we’ll find him alive and unharmed."

  Rita shook her head.

  "You won’t be able to convince him," she said. "Or maybe you will, but he’ll still come up with some other, no less hopeless plan. Besides, we don’t know the exact path or timing of how they reached the summit. Or where they were when the eruption began. We don’t know anything."

  "But we do know that Petros knew the location of the shrine," Kairu objected excitedly. "And most likely, he went there. For Octarus. We’ll wait for him there."

  "In short, you only have a vague plan," Rita summed up. "As usual… in the Wolf’s Citadel it was almost the same… I’m used to it."

  "We’ll manage," Kairu said confidently.

  "The success with Octarus has just gone to your head…"

  "You’re right…" he admitted after a short pause. "I really do feel a little crazy… But Rita! Now we’re here! And we have Octarus. That means time is completely in our hands, we can do anything we want…"

  "Kairu…" They stopped. Around them rippled a boundless field, the mountains faded into the haze far to the north, and ahead, the road could be seen dipping down into a green grove. Rita brushed an unruly red curl from her forehead and looked at him. "Remember what Konrad said. Playing with time is the most dangerous thing you can do. And you want to convince Petros to turn the wheel of history the other way, just erase several years of events that reshaped the entire world. And you have no idea what your Interference will lead to."

  Kairu was silent.

  "What if you turn the wheel and change absolutely everything?" Rita asked. "What if we come back through the crossroads of time and discover that in the new reality, we never found Darius and Octarus, and never traveled into the past? And in that world, there are other versions of us who don’t care about Petros or his war at all? And what if we meet… ourselves?"

  "The world is big," Kairu objected. "If we come back and there’s no war, and Kairu and Rita live peacefully each in their corner of Aktida—we won’t disturb them. We’ll quietly repeat the journey, take Darius and Octarus again, and bring them to the Island. And then… we can hide. Disappear anywhere. Live out our lives, and no one will ever know that we split into two."

  Rita looked at him with a faint smile, and as always, he couldn’t tell whether she was sympathizing with his reasoning or laughing at it.

  "Listen," he said softly. "Just now… answer me honestly. Absolutely honestly. Would you want… to change at least something?"

  Rita was silent.

  "I’ve been thinking…" Kairu muttered hesitantly and waved his hand. "Ah, think what you want! But you can’t deny that the gods gave us this chance. Not Petros. Not Nubel. Not Saelin. Us. The year 1453… August… all we’d need is to get from here to Aktida, to the Southern Province, find the village… and just warn my father. Save him. Tell him everything. You see? So he could hide, and then, when I came there in the autumn, the villagers would simply have made me believe he was dead. Nothing would have changed, except that, when everything was over, and I returned, I would have found my family.

  Or even earlier… 1449. The year of the plague. Take my parents away from the village… Save my mother. Rita, it’s been five years since then, and you know… I’ve almost forgotten her face, I can’t see it clearly anymore, not even in my dreams, and that happens less and less… Aktos, I’d give anything to see her again. To have her alive…"

  His voice broke. Rita grabbed his hand.

  "Calm down," she said quietly. "Hush. It’s just the magic of Lake Aktida, you carried it with you for too long…"

  "What magic, damn it!" Kairu shouted, pulling away. "Rita! Petros, Nubel, and Saelin chased this their whole lives! And we can do anything, as long as we make a good plan and think through all the possibilities! And you?! Rita, don’t you dare tell me that you, an orphan, don’t want to save your family? Save your father and mother?! They were both killed, Rita. And now we have the power to turn back time and punish the murderers… or at least find out who did it… Don’t tell me you don’t want that?"

  It was all like a dream. He felt his hands shaking violently, his eyes stinging, a hateful lump rising in his throat… But opposite him stood Rita. He saw her as if through a fog, a terrifying whirlwind of thoughts whirling in his head, stabbing, giving him no rest.

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  Rita shook her head.

  "No, Kairu. I don’t want to."

  He dropped his hands helplessly. Rita blinked. Her green eyes looked clean and clear, burning him with ice. That gaze—it pierced straight through him, sobered him, made him stop and imagine himself from the outside.

  "I don’t want to," she repeated. "Because… because when I was seven years old… my father first took me to church. It stood in Petista, in the merchant quarter, not far from the governor’s palace. Later, I never felt the need to go there… but that first time, I remember it as if it were yesterday. And I remember how we stood before the statue of Aktos, and my father told me… as if he knew what all this would lead to… He said: do you see him? He looks at you and knows your every thought, bad or good, he can see into your soul, and he knows the past, the present, and the future until the end of time itself. And people can invent any toys, anything, any mechanism, they can even gain power over space and time… and still all they’ll hold in their hands is smoke, which cannot be caught, and cannot be ruled. Perhaps gods don’t exist. But there certainly exist powers before which people are just ants, you understand? And these powers cannot be trespassed upon. We can’t even know what will happen a moment from now, and you propose to cut history apart… even just your own history, my history… I don’t want that, Kairu. What happened, happened, it came by Aktos’ will, and if I couldn’t escape it, I still must move forward. Only forward. Into the future, without looking back at the past, Kairu."

  Kairu covered his face with his hands and sank powerless into the grass.

  "Forgive me," he said with difficulty. "Alright. Let it be so. And you… you won’t regret it for the rest of your life?"

  "I will." She sat down lightly beside him, took his hand, turned her face to the hot sun and the dry wind. "And more than once. Why? Because we’re all human, and all the same. We regret what we couldn’t change. That’s human nature, but it has another side too, Kairu… it can learn from mistakes. Do you feel it?"

  "We could have done so much. Prevented so many deaths. Stopped so many wars. Just the two of us. And with Darius and Octarus. No one else would have been needed… We could have saved Woodie, Atgard, Konrad… my parents, your parents…"

  "Joanna," Rita added, her voice trembling. "Yes. We could have. But we won’t. We’ll only do what is necessary."

  ***

  By the tavern gates stood a carriage. It was easy to spot from afar on the deserted street in the heat of the day. The three horses snorted impatiently, pawing the ground and tossing their manes. The door was open, a yawning footman sat on the step, chatting idly with the coachman. Kairu and Rita paid it little mind, calmly walked past the landau, approached the tavern doors, and peered inside…

  Rita flinched, grabbed Kairu by the hand, and pulled him out of the doorway as fast as she could. She leaned back against the wall, breathing heavily, eyes wide with shock and fear.

  "What is it?! What happened? Rita!" He shook her, clutching her hand tightly. With effort, she managed to look at him, to focus her stunned, shaken gaze.

  "Rita! Who did you see in there?"

  "Did you see him?" she stammered. "The one sitting at the table in the center?"

  "Barely. And if I’d ever seen him before, I would have recognized him. But I don’t know who he is."

  "Kairu," Rita managed to steady herself. "Remember… I told you back in Mainor, right after the battle, about how Joanna and I and the others robbed the mansion? The one where we found the coin, the brooch, and the parchment? Kairu, that’s the owner of that mansion. Lord Garamant."

  "He’s thirty years younger now," Kairu said uncertainly. "You could be mistaken…"

  "No. If you had seen him that night as close as Joanna and I did, you wouldn’t mistake him either. It’s him. And you know what? He looks the same—about fifty years old. Don’t you see? He hasn’t changed, Kairu. He’s exactly the same as he was that night. When Joanna killed him."

  Kairu didn’t think for long.

  "He’s waiting for someone. Until you meet Garamant in Petista thirty years from now, and he learns what you look like, he has no idea who we are. We can just walk in, sit at a nearby table, order some food, and when his friend comes, we can overhear everything they say. They won’t pay us the slightest attention."

  Rita stared at him in fear.

  "Kairu, that’s still an Interference," she protested, her voice trembling. "What if, thirty years later, he remembers he saw us before, and it changes the course of events?"

  "We could kill him right here," Kairu said. His thoughts were racing wildly, one overtaking the next. "And make Joanna’s job easier."

  "You’re insane! That’s even worse!"

  "Rita, he killed your mother—and maybe your father too," Kairu reminded her. "We could finish him here and now, and save them in the future. When the war starts, and you come to Mainor, you could simply take everything you need right from your mother’s hands."

  They stared hard at each other. Kairu could see the sparks of doubt flickering in her eyes. Half an hour ago, when they had been talking in the fields, things had felt different. Now, a real chance to alter the future was right before them.

  "Alright," Kairu said quietly. "He never once will speak to me, not thirty years from now. He will only see me fleetingly at the banquet in Petista. And I won’t break into his house. Now, I’ll just go in and listen. Wait here, hide somewhere for when they come out. I swear I won’t kill him—unless you want me to."

  And without waiting for her answer, he stepped out from the corner, walked up to the tavern door, pushed it open, and went inside.

  Kairu felt himself go cold from his own audacity, but at the same time, a strange, desperate bravado filled him. He was like an actor playing a role before a discerning audience that could either praise or boo him. He strode confidently, almost nonchalantly, between the tables and sat down—not too close, but close enough to Garamant—and even smiled and gave him the slightest nod when the man returned an indifferent glance. So that’s what you’re like, Kairu thought, signaling the tavern-keeper.

  Garamant was drinking ale. Kairu’s stomach twisted with fear, and yet, forcing a false smile, he ordered beer and sausages, sprawling in his chair as if ready to doze. He avoided looking directly at Garamant, glancing only now and then, but the man sat sunk in thought, paying no attention to any of the other patrons. Kairu’s order arrived, but unable to eat, he slowly sipped his beer, when suddenly the door opened, and Garamant rose to greet a newcomer.

  It was a druid. A stuffed owl hung from his belt.

  "Greetings, Yarak," said Garamant, bowing to him. From his table, Kairu heard every word. "Sit down, I’ve ordered lunch for you… Well, what news?"

  "I have little time, Garamant," the druid replied in a rasping voice. "We came to the place you mentioned. No one was there."

  "No one?" Garamant’s voice held genuine surprise. "Not even traces?"

  "There were traces. But the people had left earlier. Maybe a day or two."

  "You searched everything?"

  "Yes. They didn’t fly far. We found the crashed aerostat and signs of a battle—many dead druids. The people had good weapons, they managed to escape."

  "So they were attacked—but not by yours?" Garamant was even more surprised.

  "Exactly."

  "Then who?"

  "The Lynx Clan."

  "You tried to track the people?"

  "Yes. They’re close. Heading north, toward Ardrai. We didn’t attack, only followed from a distance. They’re led by a druid. There were fewer of them than you said."

  "How many?"

  "Four."

  "Only four? I don’t understand a damn thing. You’re sure none of them died in the crash?"

  "Only dead druids." Yarak shook his head. "There’s human blood on the trail, but no bodies. The Lynx Clan didn’t pursue them—they went the other way. I met with them. They took one prisoner. They’re leading him north, too."

  "Who hired them?"

  "We never reveal clients. I didn’t ask. It’s business ethics, Lord Garamant. They didn’t ask about you either."

  "I see," Garamant muttered. "But Yarak, with one prisoner, that makes only five. Where are the other three? You missed someone. Those bastards knew they’d be followed, and split up to confuse the trail."

  "We can comb the forest again. It will cost another hundred gold. And an advance."

  "Fine, fine, take it…" Garamant grumbled. "I’m a reliable client, you hear? But I want results. I thought it impossible for three people to just vanish into the forest, not die, and no Clan know their whereabouts? I want you to find everyone—except the one the Lynx Clan took—and follow them closely, understand? I want to know where they go and what they do."

  "Here’s a map with the latest data." The druid slid a sheet across the table to Garamant. "Four are moving north. The Lynx Clan is moving north, too. And the Wolf Clan is also moving north. If they all continue in that direction, in four days they’ll be about here, on the opposite slope of the Fire-Breathing Mountain."

  "Good. I’ll be here tomorrow at the same hour. I want reports. And damn it, find me those other three."

  "The forest is vast," the druid answered mysteriously. "But we’ll see what can be done. Until tomorrow, my lord. Thank you for the meal."

  With that, he rose and left the tavern.