Amber stood at the prow of the boat, peering into the fog. The heavy gloom enshrouded the world, muffling the oarsmens’ strokes behind her, smothering the lanterns hanging above, and seeping its cold, wet fingers through her cloak. She stifled a shiver.

A back mass slowly materialized out of the fog. It seemed to grow as the boat drew closer, as if it rising from beneath the inland sea.

“I see it!” Amber called behind her. “The island is dead ahead.”

The oarsmen picked up their tempo. After a full day and a night on the sea, Amber suspected they were as glad for land as she was.

The boat’s captain joined Amber at the prow. Captain Sammish was a squat, hairy toad of a man with a long gray beard. He hadn’t wanted to make this trip—“Nothing to see out there but water!” he’d said—but a generous portion of Simeon’s gold had changed his mind.

“So that’s it,” he grunted. “Can’t say I like it. Sitting all alone out here, hiding from the maps. Something wrong about. Something dangerous. I’ll give you one hour, no more. You’re not back by then, you can stay here.”

Amber nodded. She shared the captain’s unease about the rocky island drifting into view. She hoped to find the islanders and drop off the tablets quickly. She had no desire to stay there any longer than necessary.

The boat drifted aground on a stony beach and a half-dozen men jumped out to haul it in. The rest of the crew disembarked and stood around, shaking their legs and stretching. Amber looked for the sun to get her bearings and spotted a bright smudge in the cloudy sky. Putting the smudge behind her left shoulder, she trudged inland, disappearing into the mist.

Amber walked aimlessly toward what she hoped was the center of the island. Simeon’s description of the place had been poor. When he was here, he had been more concerned about the islanders themselves (and their hidden treasures) than the geography of their home.

The trees were getting thicker and soil less rocky. Amber was soon walking through a forest and realized she was not alone. There was movement to either side of her. She got the impression that she was being herded as she saw flashes of gray and white fur through the trees.

The trees gave way to a rocky clearing. An old woman was standing in the clearing, naked and covered with scars. A pair of beastlings loped out of the woods beside Amber. One of them crouched protectively in front of the old woman. The other prowled between Amber and the tree line behind her.

The old woman touched a scar on her throat. It glowed dimly in the morning mist.

“You have… what is ours,” she said, but the words were stilted and strained and Amber realized the language was not hers.

“I’ve come to return what’s yours,” said Amber. She pulled Simeon’s bag from her back and set it on the ground. She made an elaborate show of slowly opening the bag, reaching in, and pulling out the three stone tablets. After holding up each of the tablets in turn, she placed them gently on the ground, then stood and took a step away from them.

“Thief?” asked the old woman. Frowning, she tried again. “Where… is the thief?”

“He’s at home,” said Amber. “His masters are punishing him for his crimes.”

The old woman nodded. She seemed satisfied with this answer.

“You have your tablets,” Amber continued, “And the thief is being punished. Will you stop sending your…” she swept an arm at the beastlings before and behind her. “Creatures?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The two women stood in awkward silence for a moment. The beastling at the crone’s feet absently scratched itself.

“Well, then I guess I should go,” Amber said.

“Go,” the old woman echoed, nodding.

Amber turned. The beastling behind her caught the old woman’s nod and slid out of Amber’s way. She took a step, then sighed and turned back.

“One last thing,” she said, “And then I’ll go. Simeon—the thief—told me about the words, and the power they hold. I know this word,” she pointed to one of the tablets, “Is ‘fire.’ And this other one is ‘preserve’ or something like that. But what’s this word?”

The old woman considered her words. She pointed, and Amber’s eyes followed the woman’s finger to the third tablet.

“World,” she said at last. “Now you go.”

“World? What does—“

But the old woman was gone. The beastling closest to Amber growled deep in his throat, and the fog was seeping thickly up from the ground.

It was time to go.