I am so very tired and yet it matters not. I had not expected to see them so. Both sent spinning from life over again by those foul creatures on the Royal Road. Too close! Too perilous! But oh my heart would burst from seeing this fever upon them – and yet continuing as always to be in control. Always duty, never self. Nothing could hide the weariness in them or the wet upon their dear face from the heat that consumes them. The labour that even breathing seems to take is written upon them. I think it hits hard for they are not used to sickness. Not they. The very fact they allowed themselves led back to the quiet of the halls. To be lain down and soothed. The relief seemed tangible on their face. They have hardly moved; hardly spoken. I keep hot sweet tea and soup and stews ready, but as yet they cannot take them. The cool damp cloths placed on their hands and face seem to help. Even if they do not know I am there I fan them with the gift I was given and read to them. I found myself singing softly too, but I have stopped that.

When I have had to move to relieve my aching limbs I have been at work so that when they get up, their boots and armour and weapons are well tended.

This is a strange thing indeed – for it now feels as though they were gone but a moment. I am with them at their side and yet they are pulled down by sickness. I know my prayers will pull them through. They must.

But hope I must cling on to, for I still wear it. With so many brothers returning to the land there MUST be hope! El Gato, Ferno, Boy….all back with us. How I have yearned for them all. Perhaps JKD himself may return….. but that is hope I do not wish to encourage for the despair would be hard to take.

I must make more tea – just in case.

Though I have not yet seen them we have spoken. There are signs in them of something being wrong; something that has changed since they went away. I cannot be sure, but I sense some fever or illness. I am, it is true, little use to anyone much of the time, but I do know healing. I am going to read up and then later I will seek them out. I will seek them out and see for myself whether my fears (on so many things) are unfounded. I have prepared things to take. I have warm cloaks and furs, teas and soups. If I am wrong and all is well, then all to the good. They shall be enjoyed just the same I think. I long to hear their voice. I hear it often in my dreams, but I need to hear it; feel it dance on the air and wrap around me. Words like caresses even when they speak of everyday things. There seems too much time passed between them and me. Theirs has been filled and mine has been, perhaps, wasted. I am terrified to see them again, and yet terrified of not.

It was a difficult letter to write, but it had to be written. I had to try to explain. They return calm, matter of fact, their duty done (well this one anyway) and have no idea what horror I have been through. I needed to try and explain too of another matter which brings me great disquiet and shame and stops my rest.

They are returned, yet I have not seen them. This is just the same as ever, I half smile to think of it. It has ever been our path. Just out of reach. Duty's servants.

But they are safe. That should be enough.

News - news that I should be overwhelmed with joy to hear and yet I feel almost anxiety.

They are safe. They are back from where they have been. Nothing was as it seemed - thank the gods. They have sent word.

And El Gato. My old friend, my dear brother, also returned to the lands once more.

Please, heart, take courage and be glad.

Being at prayer these last long days would usually have calmed me. I confess it has not. It leaves me uncertain of many things. Uncertain of my future, uncertain of where my path is leading me. It takes me further away from those I love and seems to narrow so that there is barely room for one to walk it. It is overgrown with brambles, and weeds choke it so it can hardly be made out at all. The shadows fall over it to the point where all is dark.

How I long for Starling's quiet dark - if I ever knew where it was.

I should not be here in this room; it deserves no such presence.

I think I will take myself down to a different place.

Beware of the Blue.

Caught off guard by the thought of news I have spoken foolishly - I should know better than to try humour. Inbetween tears of hope and relief from her message and blessing the one she had introduced me to, I think I have lost someone.

I managed the blessings; I managed to drag myself here; I sit in this room I have not known for many months, even years. If these tears do not stop I shall dry up like a dying flower.

And I do feel so blue. Words have many meanings. Beware of the blue indeed.

So it begins. It took some time to find my way back there, but find it I did. Terror and anguish mixed with hope and endurance and trust in my gods (for what else is there).

I fought my way to that place and desperately searched among those sad and pathetic remains. I saw no writing that reminded me of any I knew. A good thing perhaps. A bad thing in another way - for are they in those deeper, darker places? I fought on. Just keeping my balance took all my strength and the creatures that by some dark design are sure footed and nimble took all my courage. But I fought them still. I confess I used the gods blessings on myself - I felt I owed her that much. Yet this place while hard, is not impossible for my skills. I just wish I did not expend so much of my powers to stand still. Up and up, down and around. No sign. And yet there was something. Another tattered page. Speaking of a cleric in terror. Oh how I wish I knew what they had seen.

Beware of the Blue.

This troubled me greatly and I simply do not know what it means.

I am battered and bruised and my strength so utterly spent that I had none to retreat and have been flung away to take life anew. I am sure I had traversed and explored all places, but it is so hard to tell in the deep shadows and moving surfaces of that place.

I return as soon as I am strong enough. Perhaps I missed something.

I think I am ready. No apologies for time spent in prayer for Cory knows I will need His help! Still I cannot make out their dear words. Still some phrases evade me. Each stain on the parchment, each rip and tear, I feel as though through their, and now perhaps my, flesh. I have provisions in plenty, though I have been careful to pack only those stuffs that do not need heating. I do not wish fire or the smell of warm food to drift from my camp and call unwanted visitors. Trouble enough I am expecting to see.

I have been quietly practicing the art of shelter making that Richard tried to teach me so very long ago. I truly do miss him still and especially at this moment. He would have thought nothing of what I am about to do except to advise me strongly against it. So it was all those years ago up in the mountains. Still I can hear my voice echoing around the pass and reflecting back to me from the great doors if I close my eyes and concentrate. That is another place I have been dwelling on but I know it is not possible for me to go into there.

I have had to leave my books behind - they are too heavy to carry and I must be agile, I must be fast and able to move lightly. I have placed them into my bedspace in the guildhalls. They will be safe there. I thoroughly dusted and polished throughout too - in case they should return unexpectedly. I have prayed in our guild house of worship. I felt overwhelming sadness. There were so many rose wreaths there. I made sure those that were almost dust were tidied away and made a fresh one for our lady's head. I felt tears slide down my cheeks, yet did not feel them in my heart. I feel as though emotion is spent, yet the outward signs are somehow still being made. I just wish I did not feel so cold. I am so glad of my old cloak. I will be gladder too before long I imagine.

I have a worry that I cannot bring to anyone. I feel my outer shell hardening. I have not felt like that in a long time. It is not as bad as then and I do not feel in danger. But I dislike this passivity that creeps over me.

How far away and long ago does Ethucan sunshine feel. All is not lost - when I think on that, then I feel a glimmer of warmth and the smile I feel upon my face is true.