He was woken somewhat later by voices. A man’s and a girl’s. They hadn’t seen him yet, but were talking. He buried himself more deeply in the hay.

 '-and Gamy won't budge,' said a girl's voice.

'Well, let me see to ol Bodglimer first, an we'll see then.'

The boy stayed still, thinking worriedly of pitchforks.  The voices receded out around the far side of the barn, and after a time Beryloam dozed again....

He was woken by a soft padding on the hay, and peeking up saw a tabby cat. He sat up. 'Hey kitty,' he whispered. It turned again. He said, 'What kind of folk are these?' and he looked into its eyes, and it started to look away but did not. 'Thank you,' he whispered and the cat shook and strolled into the sun then stopped and stretched and looked back at him once more then scampered off.

He wondered if he should venture up. The voices had receded. He could get up and wander on, hoping not to be seen, or that the folk were as friendly as the cat seemed to suggest; or he could wait until nightfall.

He scrambled up and sidled to the door and looked out, emboldened by the cat. The farmer and his daughter were coming back from the fields. He was tired and hungry and thirsty and quickly made a decision and showed himself, waving.

The man waved back after a pause and so did the girl. 'Hello,' called the man uncertainly.

'Hello," answered Beryloam. "My name is Beryloam. I am sorry, I was wandering late last night, and I stumbled into your barn and slept in the hay. I will be on my way now. I meant no harm.'

The farmer said, 'No harm done if none is. My name is Jode and this is my girl Silye. May I ask what had a youngster wandering out so late?"

I rafted down the river from the mountains, and got off yester morn yonder and was wandering along the creek to circle back to the river, but when it got dark I saw your barn and without thinking took shelter."

The man stared hard at him. "You live in the mountains? What do you here?'

"I came down the river in a boat, fleeing a war that had come to my home. Then last night I had to escape a vile witch that had snared me yonder up the creek, and I fled until dawn, when I saw your barn and crawled in."

The farmer stared at him thoughtfully, and the girl looked puzzled or awed.

'That's a tale, ' he said at last. Then after a moment, 'Which war do you speak of?'

'I know not it has a name, it was just coming upon us, but I dwelt in a valley in the mountains up north.'

'And you fled all alone?'

'I didn't mean to. It happened that bad men were approaching, and I jumped in the boat and cut free.'

The man looked at him uncertainly.

'Where did the witch catch you?'

Beryloam looked the man in the eye, letting the man know that on this count he told no tale, and that his account, generally, was true in essence. He related exactly what had happened, until he got to the mouse, then he was unsure if he should reveal his magical learning; so he said he found a hairpin under the bed and used it to pick the lock. He then left out the phantasm as well, but then thought better of it, fearing to endanger these seeming kind folk.

'Sir,' he said, stopping. 'I will tell the whole truth. I did not find the lock pick under the bed, it was brought to me by a mouse-to whom I communicated my need using the magical training I had of my master in the valley I spoke of. And what's more, when fleeing last night, I was pursued by a phantasm of the witch's sending, which I dispelled again by the small magics I have mastered. Now you know. I should be going now, lest she send after me again.'

The girl stared at him with awe. The man said, 'You are well spoken for a youngster, lad, and I do believe your tale. There are mostly bad folk hereabouts. We stick to our own and hold to what's good. We don't traffic with magic,' he said concernedly, 'but if your master was of the white, as they say...'

'I know not he would call himself 'of the white' to be honest,... but he were furthest from 'the black', and he never harmed a creature I knew of. He knew my mother when I was born, and took me to the valley when she passed,' said the boy.

'Then ... we I think,' he glanced at his daughter then back, 'would be happy to have you for lunch; and perhaps we might find aught to aid you on your further journey. We don't fear the bad folk for the most part here. Where is it you will you go from here...?"

'I haven't yet thought, but I think back up river or perhaps down the coast. The folk I have encountered are of the worst sort, beg your pardon: excepting yourself. The lands I traveled through before, up river-the folk were not especially decent, but my master taught me to expect that in the world-but this place is somewhat worse than indecent--'

'There are many good folk hereabouts. Bad folk tend to cluster round the roads and approaches to the city. There are many like us, but we keep together, and mix not with the business of the rest. My people have been here for many generations, come from up river like yourself. It didn't used to be so bad here, where it were a small port town. But there's lots of traffic with foreign parts now and the city has grown beyond its usefulness. We keep to ourselves, like I said. He patted his girls head. 'And there are plenty more like us. Come on then.'

While they were walking the boy told the man and his daughter the truth that he had not fled in a boat but in a balloon and all about the gnomes and faeries that were fleeing that same day with his master, and about his little sister he had accidentally left behind.'

The man stared at him in wonder, and the girl was speechless.

The boy said, 'The cat in the barn told me you were good people.

The man laughed, and so did his daughter.

Lunch with the farmer, his daughter, his wife, and sister, went so pleasantly that Beryloam, in the midst of a desert of barjleberry pie suddenly burst into tears (he was only a boy of eleven summers after all). The farmer and his wife comforted him, and he quickly recovered himself and apologized, explaining how he had left everything he had ever known just a week before, and how he was sure that the witch had intended the absolute worst things for him.

The farmed looked to his sister. 'Maybe we should alert the Parishioner.'

Very serious suddenly, she looked down.

The man turned to Beryloam then. 'Do you remember exactly where this woman lived?'

Beryloam answered after a pause, said, 'If I followed the course of the creek up.... I could identify the cottage.'

''Cottage' you say?' said the man.

Beryloam nodded.

The sister spoke up then, "It might start a war."

'It might be necessary,' said the man. He looked to his wife, and she nodded supportively.

'I didn't mean to trouble you," said Beryloam. 'I am not needy by nature. I was overwhelmed more by how far away is every one I have ever known. I will journey on my way downstream and leave all this behind.' He bowed a moment. 'If you have any ailing livestock, I might speak to the animal and learn somewhat to help you.'

'That is well,' said the man. 'Gurny has a goiter I think and--,' he shook his head, 'but even so the evil ways of the folk up creek and by the roadways has gone unchecked long enough maybe. It might come to the attention of the court in Jaspar."

'In any event, won't you stay the night?' said his wife.

'I think you are very brave and capable boy,' said the sister.

'Silye can introduce you to some of the other children if you like.'

Beryloam consented for the time being.