It is told that she hesitated at the edge of this place and thought she would not go in. This is the first of the things told here which must without fail be said: Moonhawk thought she would not go in.

At the moment of thinking so she heard the voice of the Goddess, and the words were Enter, thou.’

Obedient, Moonhawk went forward.

The second thing that must without fail be said is this: Moonhawk was afraid.

“THAT’S MINE.”

Lute flashed a grin sideways and upward, chidingly.

“Apologies, Noble lady. The bag is mine. It contains the necessities of my trade. The repository of magics, you might say. Dangerous in untutored hands.” He gripped the disputed item and straightened, smiling with urbane Idiocy.

“You will understand my reluctance to place so beauteous a lady as yourself in the slightest peril.”

The lady took a breath that brought the principals of her beauty into high display, and thrust out her lower lip.

“It’s mine.”

“Noble—”

“She said,” the walking mountain at her side interrupted, “that the bag’s hers, tricksman. Are you calling Lady Drudae a liar?”

Lute sighed inwardly. The intervention of the mountain was as unwelcome as it was inevitable. He made a mental note to curse himself roundly for visiting this Goddess-blasted place at all, and smiled more widely.

“It would give me nothing but joy to surrender my bag into the care of the Noble Lady if I did not know that it contains instruments of dread magic. Even now, I might place it in her hands safely, for I should be here to hold her protected. But think, sir, what if I were to leave the bag with the very Noble Lady and withdraw myself and my protection over the boundary of your delightful village, as we all know I must. What then?” He affected a shudder. “I cannot complete the thought.”