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Aurienne rustled about in her satchel and pulled out a notebook. “I detest operating in this improvisatory manner”—Mordaunt pivoted— “just titting about the countryside without a plan—”

Mordaunt, seized with sudden liveliness, leapt to Aurienne’s side. “Let’s tit about. Ilovetitting about.”

He crowded Aurienne and her notebook, and tried to read over her shoulder.

Aurienne held her notes to her chest until he backed away. “The entire point of my research was to besystematicabout aligning thin places with in-between moments. About following the data. However, in the face of your insistence, and in the absence of the chance to devise an actual plan—”

Mordaunt asked, with energy, “Where shall we go?”

“My inventory of specific Cúsc moon locations is paltry,” said Aurienne. “This pond was my best option. The next best was the most feeble of sources—a single line in an old Dyfedian ballad mentions hot springs that were curative at the Cúsc moon.”

“Which hot springs?”

Aurienne consulted her list. “Er…it simply said ‘the waters at Kentigern.’ ”

“Let’s go,” said Mordaunt, striding towards the waystone.

“We don’t even know if the springs still exist.”

“We’re going to find out. I don’t know how many full moons I’ve got left. Come on. Stop dawdling.”

The suggestion that Aurienne, of all people, would ever dawdle was as impertinent as it was ridiculous. She picked her way through the wet grass to the other edge of the pond—the one with the path—and beat Mordaunt to the waystone. She waited for him there, bursting with restrained disdain.

Mordaunt, as he approached from the other side, looked preoccupied—but this time, it wasn’t because of the mud.

“If I lose my seith, I won’t even be able to use waystones anymore.”

“Correct,” said Aurienne.

“Fuck,” said Mordaunt.

Aurienne offered no sympathy.

“You’re pitiless with your truths,” said Mordaunt.

“You’d prefer the comfort of lies?” asked Aurienne.

This gave Mordaunt pause. “No,” he said at length. “There’s something stirring about these sincere cruelties of yours.”

“Cruelty is your domain, not mine.”

Aurienne tugged a well-worn map of the waystone graticule out of her satchel and found the town of Kentigern. “The closest pub will be the Randy Unicorn.”

Mordaunt did a double take at her. “The Randy?”

“Yes.”

“Ah,” said Mordaunt. There was something significant in the syllable. Something amused in its delivery, too.

“What?” asked Aurienne.

“Nothing. Let’s go.”

Aurienne knew very well that it wasn’t nothing, but she didn’t wish to give him the satisfaction of her curiosity. They removed their gloves to press their tacn to the waystone. Mordaunt’s tacn flared an ugly red. Aurienne despised the sight of the thing. How many had died by that hellhound’s ruddy glow? How many innocents?

She looked away, repulsed. Her palm found cool stone. Her own tacn glowed white between her fingers. The waystone awoke.Mind the gapflashed. Aurienne and Mordaunt were dragged into the ley line and hurtled towards Kentigern.

The pond dreamed on under the quiet sky.