"In the library? Oh, the brothers will love that."

"The Metamorphic Brothers have had their own way too long, and so has the Guild. That's one of the reasons we're in this slide. Imagine, not telling anyone the Qar have been coming here for years!"

"What? How did you hear of that?"

"Vermilion Cinnabar told us. She heard it from her husband, of course."

"Beat it out of him, more likely." Chert had to laugh. Clearly, things were going to change whether he wished it or not. Better to be on top of the boulder when it decided to roll than in front of it. He gestured toward the boy, curled sleeping in a feral pile of blankets on the floor. "What about Flint?"

A troubled expression flitted across her face. "I was going to bring him with me, but he declares he will go with you instead."

Chert felt bad for her. "He's growing. He wants to be with the men…"

"That's not what's bothering me, you old fool. He's changed. Haven't you noticed?"

"Of course. But he's always been… unusual…"

"Not that. He's changed in some other way… something new. But I can't…" She made a noise of frustration. "I don't have the words for it! But I don't like it." For the first time he saw how upset and frightened his wife really was. "I don't like it, Chert."

He stepped toward her and put his arms around her middle, pulled her close, and kissed her forehead. "I don't like it either, my love, but we'll make sense of it. I missed you, did you know that?"

"Missed me picking up after you," she said gruffly, but did not let go.

"Oh, yes," he said, smelling her hair, wishing they could simply stay that way, standing together, with everything bad still yet to happen. "That as well."