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“Good.” Ash slapped the boy’s face not gently but not like he was looking to inflict damage, and said, “Good boy.” Ash hopped back, the blade simply disappeared, and he was once again a suburban dad with a very fit and large body and scary eyes. “What is it you want, Isthil?”

“Random chance,” Isthil answered, apparently not at all surprised by Ash’s behavior.

“Life and death, I hope.”

“Suffering of one type and suffering of another type,” Isthil said, sounding disapproving.

“Mmmm. Yes. I see.” Ash considered for a moment and we all waited. I think he enjoyed the suspense and the attention. “There is a symbol, half black, half white.” And suddenly there was a yin-yang symbol floating in the air off to one side.

And then, just as suddenly, Ash held a tall wooden bow. The bow must have been eight feet from tip to tip, with the thickest part as big around as a wine bottle. His free hand moved and an arrow was in it; he whipped the arrow against the bow and notched it.

The yin-yang symbol began to spin, faster and faster until it was just a gray blur.

Isthil saw what he intended, arched a weary eyebrow, and said, “If the arrow strikes black, the term of indenture is doubled. If it strikes white, then the messenger who has erred will suffer isolation.”

“Shall I loose a test arrow first?” Ash asked, grinning beneath fearful eyes. “Shall I see how many of these creatures of yours I can impale with a single arrow?”

“That wouldn’t be the randomness I require,” Isthil said patiently. “The duty for which I requested your presence.”

“No, I suppose not. But it would be fun.” Lightning quick, he drew the string back to his cheek, sighted on the spinning target, ostentatiously closed his eyes, and . . .

Twannnng!

The arrow flew. It hit the target with a satisfying thwack! And the target’s spinning slowed, slowed, until we could see that the point was almost dead center.

Almost. But clearly in the white.

“This is nuts,” I muttered under my breath.

Messenger glared at me in alarm. There was no way Ash could have heard and yet . . .

In the blink of an eye he was before me. He seemed much larger up close. His breath stank of rancid meat. The low growl that came from him at all times was now loud in my ears.

To my surprise he did not stab me with the bayonet or shoot me with the bow. He laughed and his eyes grew small, yet though smaller, I saw things there: slaughters, men and women disemboweled, children dashed against rocks. Blood and bone and spilled intestines.

“Yes,” Ash said to me. “It’s madness. All madness. Didn’t you already guess that? Don’t you know that you serve the cause of insanity?”

I didn’t try to answer. I did try to swallow and tasted ashes.

“The balance,” Ash sneered. “There’s only one thing threatening the balance between existence and . . . non. You.” He poked a finger hard against my breastbone. “You and your species. Remove man, and the balance is effortlessly maintained. What do you have to say to that, child of a warrior who died while killing?”

“My father was a soldier,” I said. It came out as a squeak, a pitiful noise.

“Oh, you’re all soldiers,” he said with a sneer. “You will all kill, given the right motivation.”

I closed my eyes, unable to look any longer into his, fearing what I might see there. When I forced myself to look again, he was gone.

Isthil remained undisturbed, waiting until the sideshow was done. Then she stood, raised her sword in the air, and said, “This doom I impose: the messenger will endure one month of isolation. Her apprentice will take refuge with another messenger, so that his learning will not be interrupted.”

She looked out over the faces turned up to her and pointed the sword directly at Messenger. My Messenger.

“You,” she said, and with a lesser blast of light, she, too, was gone.

One by one the messengers began to disappear.

Chandra, the messenger who was to be isolated, said a few words to her apprentice. As she spoke, she looked at Messenger once or twice, and her apprentice just managed to stop himself from turning around to stare. Then two wraiths drifted up to stand beside her. She nodded acceptance and without a backward glance, walked away, becoming more and more transparent until she was gone entirely.

“A month in isolation doesn’t sound so bad,” I said.