Excerpt from BARBARICA

The boy went over to the shed. Arva followed. The boy stopped in front, and then walked around it. But there was nothing to see from the outside—just a small, windowless wooden building, barely more than a man's height. He raised the latch on the door and went inside. Arva followed, once again, although there was barely room inside for the two of them.
The place was dark and musty. It contained a few tools, as Arva had guessed. No logs, but some boards, and a few old chairs stacked in the corner. And one set down in the middle of the wooden floor. The boy sat in the chair. Why? He stayed there for a while, and then he got out of the chair and knelt on the floor and put his hands out in front of him. For some reason Arva started to become very nervous. What was the boy doing?
And then, just for a moment, Arva felt something else. He felt as if he were falling, falling, in emptiness that went on forever, that multiplied endlessly around him. And he too seemed to multiply, and every self was falling, and he knew he would fall forever.
It was the most awful thing he had ever felt.
And in an instant it passed. The boy was looking at him. "Me paenitet," he murmured. I'm sorry. But then he turned away and seemed to stare off into nothingness. And then Arva seemed to see the nothingness—just there, above the wooden floor. And how could that be true?
Arva backed out of the shed. He wanted no part of this boy, or whatever he was staring at in the shed. He wanted to run away. But he forced himself to stay. He was not a child; he was not a girl. He had travelled across the world. He would not be afraid of emptiness, of nothingness. Of falling.
He noticed that the man and the girl were standing behind him, their cloaks wrapped tightly around their bodies. They, too, were waiting for the boy.
Eventually he came out of the shed.
"Well?" the man asked.
"Affron was here," the boy replied.
"We knew this," the girl said.
The boy shook his head. "It's different."
"How?"
The boy didn't answer her question. "We should go," he said. "He's waiting for me."
"Where?"
"North, I suppose." He gestured at Arva, as if to say: We can trust what this man told us.
They walked back to town. He left them at the stable. They politely thanked him for the trouble he had taken. He said it was no trouble; he was delighted to help.
He watched them head off north on the King's Road. When they were out of sight he went directly to Grillich's tavern and ordered a cup of whiskey, even though it was still morning. He drank it down and sat shivering by the fire.
He was not shivering from the cold.
And as he stared at the fire he found himself praying to the gods, for the first time in many years. Even though he had no idea what he was praying for.
The last person to see the three strangers was Corin the stable boy. He followed behind them as they rode, hoping for one last glimpse of the girl with the blonde hair and gray eyes. And yes, finally she turned and smiled and gave him a little half-wave before turning back to the road and her journey.
And that was enough to keep him warm for the rest of the long, lonely winter in our small town.