THE HULKING MAN in the sheepskin overvest pounded in the fence post with well-timed strokes of his heavy mallet.

I crept from the woods, still in the torn remnants of my jester's garb, carrying Emilie's cloak. I had clung to the forest for a week now. Hungry, avoiding pursuit. I had nothing. Not a denier or a possession.

You'll never mend a fence by lazing away like a fat cow, I said boldly.

The burly man put down his mallet and arched his thick, bushy eyebrows. He stepped forward to the challenge. Look what's crawled out of the woods... some scrawny squirrel in a fairy's costume. You look like you wouldn't know a day's work if it jumped up and strummed your dick.

I could say the same for you, Odo, if it wasn't always in your hand.

The big smith eyed me closely. Do I know you, malt-worm?

Aye, I answered. Unless, since I've seen you last, your brains have grown as soft as your gut.

Hugh... ? the smith exclaimed.

We embraced, Odo lifting me high off the ground. He shook his head in astonishment.

We heard you were dead, Hugh. Then in Treille, wearing the costume of a fool. Then word that you were in Bor俥. That you killed that prick Norcross.Which of these are true ?

All true, Odo. Except for rumors of my demise.

Look at me, old friend. You killed the duke's chatelain?

I took a breath and smiled, like a little brother embarrassed by praise. I did.

Ha, I knew you'd outfox them. The smith laughed.

I have much to tell, Odo. And much to regret, I feel.

We too, Hugh. Come, sit down. All I can offer you is this rickety fence. Not as fine as Baldwin's cushions... We leaned against it. Odo shook his head. Last we saw you, you ran into the woods like a devil, chasing the ghost of your wife.

She was ............