Tavis walked beside his pony as it trotted down the dirt road. There was forest on either side of him and he could smell the season. The sun had disappeared but the sky was still bright. Tavis considered finding a place to camp for the night, but decided against it. He felt that he was almost at the village, and he would much rather stay in a home than camp on the ground.

It grew darker still, everything becoming grey and shadows. He came upon a garden and heard the songs of work. Tavis tied his horse to a tree and went in to the garden. Even in the dimness he could tell from the smells that this was a healer's garden. It made sense: nobody would gather food at dusk, but some medicinal herbs had the most power when gathered in the twilight. The song was subdued, quiet, a woman singing to herself absent-mindedly as she worked, coming somewhere from over the wall of green. Tavis whistled as he walked, not wanting to startle whoever was working in the garden. He stepped carefully, not wanting to damage any of the plants. He navigated the tiny maze of dirt pathways and split logs. Finally he could see the hump of a figure bent over, cutting plants most likely.

"Greetings," Tavis said in a soft voice.

The old woman straightened up, her hand grasped a bundle of stems, from which bloomed a mass of floppy green leaves. In her other hand a knife. "Greetings stranger," she said.

"I am the witch finder that has been called for. My name if Tavis Longhaven."

"Well met Tavis Longhaven, I am Haniti." Tavis bowed slightly. "Have you a place to stay for the night?"

"No grandmother."

"Then you shall stay with me."

He helped the old woman finish gathering herbs and they went inside her little hut, which already has a bright fire burning in the fireplace and the smells of vegetable stew. Tavis helped her sort, clean the weeds, selecting the useful parts and throwing the rest in a rubbish pile. Tavis commented that she had gathered quite a lot of the thornapple plant.

"It is winter soon, if I do not harvest now there will be no potency."

"Does the village generally require this much thornapple?"

"It never has while I have been the healer. However, don't forget the story of the rat's large hoard."

"Of course," Tavis nodded. He knew immediately what she was saying: it was better to prepare too much herb than too little.

After they had wrapped up the herbs in cloth and pushed them carefully in to clay jars, the old woman served food. Tavis complemented her on the food and they talked for some time about spices and through which villages the best spices were traded.

Then she lit a pipe with him. They sat and smoked and listened to the fire.

After a long silence she said "The wise elders must not think our problem very serious."

"Why do you say that?"

"They sent a male. Everyone knows that males make poor witch finders."

Tavis smiled at her. "With all respect, grandmother, do not forget the story of the brave squirrel."

"Hmm," she said. She took another puff on the pipe and stared in the space contemplatively.

The story of the brave squirrel was one of the mistake stories, all of which held a special place in Tavis' heart. In this story the mistake was that the other animals said "squirrels are cowards," and underestimated the squirrel. When the squirrel defeated his enemies through bravery he said to them "squirrels, as a whole, may be cowards, but I am an individual squirrel and what holds true about the whole does not necessarily hold true about me."

As a child Tavis loved the adventure and triumph of the story, but as he grew to enjoy the truth the story taught. Tavis listened to and read the stories voraciously. The village’s wisest elder was surprised when she learned how well Tavis knew the stories. He remembered her quizzing him on their meanings. She consulted with the spirits and found that his calling was as a witch finder.

Tavis had traveled East to Mount Tanaltis where witch finders train. Most of the young witch finders there were young women, which was some hardship on Tavis. They kept trying to elicit promises of marriage in ways Tavis found increasingly hard to refuse. The elders recognized Tavis' situation and tried to protect him in little ways, including inviting him to spend many evenings in their lodge, where students were not usually permitted. The elder's found his discussion of the mistake stories very interesting. He mused that the mistakes of the mistake stories were of asking the wrong question. In the story of the brave squirrel, the other animals asked "what are squirrels like" when they should have asked "what is this squirrel like". These musings greatly entertained the elders and made for a good night's discussion and spirited debate. This put Tavis in the hearts of many of the elders. They knew he had his shortcomings but they thought of him as especially clever, which was why they sent him when a town called for help with problems that seemed to defy reason. That was why Tavis was here.

"Yes," she said, coming out of deep thought, "You are wise to think of the brave squirrel. I shall keep that in mind, and remind others of the story as well."

"I'm sure that will not be necessary," Tavis said.

She laid out a place for him and he slept.

The next day, after breakfast, Tavis went in to the village center and introduced himself to everyone that he met. Tavis had been asked to take a roll of paper sent from the printer in Inkhaven. The size of the paper told him that it had been a while since anyone had come to or from the village. The villagers eagerly unrolled the paper to its full length in the town hall and began cutting it up. The paper contained letters from other villages, offerings from traders and selections from library texts. It was all printed in the new writing: holes punched in the paper by a clockwork machine. Some of the elders never learned the new writing, but would easily be able to find a younger person to read them aloud. Tavis remembered his delight and excitement as a child when the library at Antolin had begun making their volumes available in the new writing. It meant that Tavis would not need to travel to Antolin to read the books, nor pay scribes to hand-write copies and send them to him.

Tavis recognized some of his favorite stories in the unrolled paper, and looked to see which children grabbed them eagerly. They ran off with the stories, eager to sit around in groups and read them aloud. Tavis had learned to read the stories with his fingers so he could continue to read even after the fire dimmed for the night.

People were too delighted with their new printouts to even think of working in their gardens or tending to their animals. It would make it easier for Tavis to find and interview people. Tavis introduced himself to many of the villagers, enquiring about how they had been, what good and bad events had happened to them of late. They all knew why Tavis was there and he spoke of it plainly. He had been told that an abnormal number of misfortunes had been happening in this village for at least a year. "It may just be chance," Tavis said to the villagers, "but there may also be a witch here, and if there is I must find him or her." Tavis listened to tales of livestock getting sick, children falling and hurting themselves, crops doing poorly, couples fighting. The more he listened, the more it sounded like some influence was harming the harmony of the village.

People, Tavis had been taught, were not smart enough to see how one action would play itself out. One thing effects many other things and each of these effect many more. No human is smart enough to foresee every result of his or her actions. The only way to ensue that one will not accidentally cause harm is to always think and act in a healthy, respectful and humble manner. Many stories illustrate this principle: the lion with a pebble in its shoe, the snake who defecated in the stream, the ant who didn't trust her neighbors, the monkey who cursed the stars. As a young man he used the monkey story to entertain other children. He would act it out, complete with pratfalls.

When so many bad things were happening in the town, it made one believe that someone in the town had been trying to ignore a pebble in their shoe, or had been defecating in the stream, or not trusting their neighbors, or cursing the starts. One person’s unharmonious actions, whether intended or unintended, were coming back to hurt everyone in the village.

Usually the offender needed only a stern lecture, a reminder of the appropriate parables, sometimes restitution to the families that had been hurt, and occasionally a brief period of banishment. Sometimes a person was being driven to unharmonious thoughts and actions by a spirit. That spirit created within him or her, and fed off of, a compulsion to do some bad thing. Punishment in this case could be counterproductive since it might make the witch feel even more guilt for his or her actions and make the demon more powerful. In these cases it was usually necessary to call for a healer who specialized in such demons.

The worst possible scenario was a witch who was purposefully and knowingly did things to hurt others. It is this last type of purposeful witches that children speak of when they test their courage by telling frightening stories late at night. In his short career Tavis had only run in to this type of witch a few times. Each time the witches had admitted their actions and given up without a fight. Tavis had never had to fight a witch, as some of his teachers had. He did not enjoy thinking about the prospect, yet he did not fear it. His witch hunter training had involved trials which had eliminated his fear of sorcery, spirits and death.

The more he spoke to the villagers, the more he began to suspect accidental sorcery. Nobody could think of anyone who acted strangely, or would not share, or gave them bad feelings. Tavis had been taught that villages have health, like a human or animal. Friendship, trust and altruism are its blood vessels. The health of a village is like that of a small bird. One bond of trust broken, one act of kindness not reciprocated, and more and more things will begin to fail. That's what it felt like was happening here: someone was doing something unhealthy and wrong (“petting the cat the wrong way,” as they say) and it was slowly destroying the health of the village. Tavis learned the names and relations of the people in the village, what crafts they made and what they grew in their gardens.

Around afternoon some of the adolescents invited him to join them for bread and wine. Tavis sat and ate with them, listening to them talk. They talked of normal adolescent things, mostly about the roll of paper that had arrived. Tavis noted that the bread tasted different from the bread he was used to. Tavis was taught to always be on alert for strange tastes that might be poison. He tasted the bread carefully, noting that it was not so much a strange flavor but a lack of sweetness.

Tavis also noticed that one young man was favoring his wrist, which seemed slightly swollen. When there was a lull in the laughing and talking, Tavis spoke "Did you hurt your wrist?"

He laughed it away, "Only a little. I was being stupid and I fell."

"Cursing the stars?" Tavis said with a smile.

"Something like that," he laughed. Tavis could tell that the young man was suddenly nervous, as someone who had lied. Tavis made a mental note of it. He could have pursued it, intimidated the young man with his position as a witch finder, demanded the truth. Tavis preferred not to, though, not until he had some idea what the young man might be hiding.

Tavis mentioned that the bread tasted odd. One of the girls told him that it was because it was made without honey. He enquired further: the village had no beehives, it used to trade with a neighboring village for honey but it had been quite a while since they had traded with that village. Tavis inquired why it had been so long since they had traded with the village. The adolescents did not know, but they agreed with Tavis when he suggested that people were too busy with their misfortunes to go on trading trips.

Tavis asked some of the adults, later, about trade with the village, which they called Thorn. The adults said that it was Thorn that had been reticent to trade, but they could not say why. Tavis decided that this might be worth investigating. He checked his map, saw that it was only an eighth of a day’s ride to Thorn. He retrieved his pony and rode to Thorn. It was only starting to get dark when he arrived at Thorn.

It took Tavis some time to greet and introduce himself to all the elders, to wave off various offers of dinner and a place to sleep. He explained that he would be returning to Cambarton that evening. Finally he sat down in a hut with a few elders. They smoked a pipe together and Tavis asked them about their trade with Cambarton.

"We do not much like to trade with Cambarton anymore," said one older man, "we avoid it whenever we can."

"Why?" Tavis asked.

The man paused. "I do not like to speak ill of others..."

This was a turn in conversation Tavis had heard before. He knew it was his duty to excuse the bad things the person was about to say. "Please," Tavis said, "It may be important to my investigations."

"Well, the last several times we traded with them, they sent Kormin as their representative."

Tavis thought he remembered meeting Kormin. "Kormin, is he about my age, very tall and muscular?"

"Yes," the old man said with a frown. "He is the problem. Well, the way he trades is."

"How is that?"

"It's hard to put in to words... I guess whenever we trade with him we always feel like we must give them an unfairly good deal, even if it hurts us. We feel that if we don't give him a good deal he might... I don't know... hit us." The old man laughed a little laugh, as to show that he did realize how silly that sounded.

"He intimidates you physically?" Tavis asked. They nodded yes. "Do you think he does it on purpose?"

The old man shrugged. "It's hard to say what goes on in another person's head. Perhaps he does it on purpose. He never seems to mind getting the better deal."

"Do you know anything about him?"

"Not really."

Tavis questioned the elders a little more but found out nothing of consequence. On the ride back he thought over what he had learned. Kormin was almost certainly the witch.

It was dark when Tavis returned, but not so late that people had gone off to bed. They were in various lodges throughout the village, gathered around the fire talking, making crafts, relaxing. Tavis found the hut that the adolescents were in. Tavis found the young man with the injured wrist and motioned for him to come speak to Tavis outside.

“Your mother’s cow died three months ago,” Tavis said in low tones to the boy.

“That is correct.”

“Do you want all your mother’s cows to die?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then perhaps it might be wise for you to tell me the truth about your wrist.”

The boy hung his head in shame.

“Was it Kormin?”

The boy told a story about a fight with Kormin. Kormin was berating the boy for laziness, the boy said something sarcastic, Kormin picked up a rock menacingly, the boy fled but in his panic he fell in to a ravine and hurt his wrist.

“And why was Kormin speaking of you about your laziness, and not your mother or a village elder.”

“Kormin is like a village elder.”

“He is wise?”

“No, but he tells everyone what to do.”

“And you do it, not because of respect for his wisdom, but because you fear him?”

“Yes,” the boy admitted, tears of shame in his eyes. “But that cannot be… the misfortunes of our town.”

“What did you think would happen to a town ruled by the strongest and not the wisest? When the wise rule, people are kept in harmony with each other and with the world. When the wise do not rule, people’s minds and hearts are not in the right place, they make little mistakes that build up. Accidents, arguments, disease all multiply like mold on bread.”

The boy began to cry openly. Tavis put a hand on his shoulder. “There are others who are at fault more than you. Do not fear, this is what I am trained for and I will remedy the problem. No more of your mother’s cows should die.”

Tavis asked about Kormin’s wife, found out her name was Kaana. Tavis found Kaana in the women's lodge. He walked with her in to the woods so they could speak privately.

"It is said," Tavis said to Kaana, "that there is a certain demon which enters the bodies of most babies, especially the male babies. For some the demon awakens during childhood but is quickly subdued, in most cases it never awakens again during adulthood. Every once in a while, though, someone awakes the demon and it takes them over. This is the demon that makes people want to control others by force, to have power over them and be able to have more than everyone else."

Kaana nodded.

“Someone in this village has this demon, I know who it is. Do you know who it is?”

She nodded again.

“This demon is causing your husband to act unwisely, upsetting the balance of this village and hurting everyone here. The demon has been allowed to feed for too long. It has grown strong, grown to be too large a part of your husband to be safely removed.”

From the folds of his coat, Tavis took out a tiny packet of paper which he put in Kaana's hands. "Put this in your husband's food."

She looked at the packet in horror. "I can't."

"A demon has awakened in your husband, a demon that has grown too powerful for any healer to destroy. The greatest kindness, to him and to this town, is for you to end his life."

Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I cannot. Please. I love him so much. I would miss him so much."

"You must understand: everything you love about your husband will quickly die as the demon grows more powerful. It is better to kill him now, while he is still someone you love, than to kill him later."

Tavis could tell by the look in her eyes that his words were not persuading her. She was too afraid of being alone to listen to his logic. Tavis decided that he must call on what his elders called "righteous fury." His voice rose in timber and power as he spoke: "Have you never read the histories? Do you not know that we were once ruled by kings, whose greed for power was a venom that poisoned the entire land, that from their huge stone buildings they learned to feel no compassion for the people who worked to serve them? Do you not remember that, fearing those they exploited, they tried to wipe out all wisdom, tried to destroy the ancient religions. They used a corrupted form of religion, ruled by an arrogant warrior god, as an excuse to burn and strangle the healers and the witch-hunters and anyone who knew how to use the power of plants? Do you not hear the wails of women echoing through the centuries, their grief as they had to poison their fathers and husbands? Do you not know that, in order to make this a world free from kings, they had to poison half the men in this land? They had to poison those they loved, for the sake of their children and their children's children. Do you think it was easy for them? Do you think it took no courage, no pain, to do what they had to do? They did not do it because they felt like it. They did it because they knew that if even one king remained they would have to live in a world controlled by those who have the greatest force, not those who have the greatest wisdom. Do you mock their suffering? Do you mock their sacrifice and bravery? Do you mock the wisdom of your most honored ancestors Kaana?"

She was openly sobbing now. Her head hung limply in her hands. She would not have the power to lift her head and look at him even if Tavis had commanded it.

"Kaana," he said, a bit more gently, "Do the wise elders not say 'Treat everyone as if they live in the same home as you’? Your husband has a terrible disease, and everyone in this village will suffer from it, everyone in the neighboring villages will suffer from it. You can not keep them from being effected by it. They will learn who causes them misfortune, then they will come for your husband and kill him. This is not a thing you can avoid. All you can do is kill him while he will still be remembered as a good man, while his ghost can still pass peacefully in to the other realms, where you can lay his head on your lap and tell him that you love him as he passes away."

She seemed almost too weak to weep. Her body spasmed as she took in breath, but it made little sound.

"Will you do what is wise, Kaana?" Tavis asked sternly.

He waited until she nodded yes. Then he left quietly.

Tavis went back to Haniti's hut on the edge of the village. Haniti had stew ready and they ate together. Tavis made no attempt to hide his ill feelings. Although he knew the murder of Kormin was necessary, but the loss of life was always a sad and terrible thing to him. Haniti noticed his foul mood and tried to breach the subject, saying "From your mood I would guess that you have found the witch."

"It is not wise to speak of things before their time," Tavis said dryly, and they spoke no more of that matter.

They went to sleep early. Tavis had trouble sleeping, he was finally forced to will his mind free from thoughts before he could pass on to sleep. His dreams were dark, full of danger and urgency. As he dreamed, an old rabbit spirit guide appeared to him. "You are in danger!" it shouted, "Wake up."

Tavis awoke instantly, opening his eyes. A bit of moonlight was filtering through cracks between the boards of Hatini's hut. The light was just enough that he could see a figure standing near the door. From the size and shape of the figure he could tell that it had to be Kormin. He could hear Kormin breathing heavily as if he had run all the way over here. Something about Kormin's breathing and the posture of his silhouette spoke to Tavis of a powerful desire to do violence. There was something in Kormin's hand, Tavis guessed it was some sort of club. It took half a second for Tavis to convince himself that this was really happening. Tavis had never seen physical violence beyond the weak flailing fists of children.

Kormin was not used to having to think quickly. His thoughts stumbled over each other as he tried to figure out what to do. He calmed himself, reminding himself that his training had removed his fear of death.

Tavis wondered why Kormin was standing in the doorway. He guessed that Kormin had been out in the bright moonlight and was waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness inside the cabin. Tavis quietly searched with his hand for a rock. When he found it he tossed it across the hut. It hit some dried herbs which made a crackling sound. Kormin inhaled sharply and started out towards the sound. Tavis leapt from his blankets and dashed towards the door. He hit it with his elbow and it swung open, spilling him out on to the ground outside. Tavis ran towards Haniti's garden. He could hear Kormin roar with rage and chase after him. Tavis tumbled over and through plants in the garden, branches and thorns tearing at his skin. He was soon out of the garden and in the trees. Tavis weaved quickly through the trees, leaping over clumps of underbrush. Tavis tried to steer a course between the thickest tress and through the thickest underbrush. He hoped that Kormin's large size might slow him, and that in his rage he might try to power his way through the brush and it would fight against him. Tavis could hear crashing and rustling behind him as Kormin kept up the chase.

Tavis tore at the small satchel of herbs at his neck, trying to open the drawstring as he ran. He opened it and pulled out several tiny cloth bags. He put each bag to his nose, inhaling and dropping each one when the smell was not right. When he smelled the right bag he tore open the thin rabbit-hide and the powder fell in to his hand.

The ground started to tilt upwards and between the trees he could see the shadow of a hill ahead. Ahead of him was a large, waist high rock. He stopped before the rock and spun around. Kormin caught up to him in an instant, raising the club up to strike with it. When he was just out of arm's reach, Tavis put his open palm before his mouth and blew. An explosion of powder billowed out in circles, hitting both Kormin and Tavis in the face. Kormin was shocked for a second, stopping. Tavis turned and scrambled up on to the rock.

Tavis turned to face Kormin. Kormin swung the stick at Tavis' legs, but Tavis jumped back to avoid the blow. Kormin put his hands on the rock to launch himself up but Tavis jumped forward and kicked Kormin in the face. Kormin let go of the rock and backed up a step.

Tavis summoned his righteous anger. "Did you think you could so easily kill a witch hunter?" he demanded. "Did you think your animal strength would be any match for the wisdom of one who has trained on Mount Tanaltis? You are doomed, the poison I blew in your face will destroy you in moments. If you have any hope left for your soul, you should start apologizing for the things you have done and tried to do."

"The powder," he hissed, out of breath, "It's on your face too."

"Fool!" Tavis roared, "Poison can’t hurt a witch finder, any child knows that. Now get down on your knees and beg forgiveness from the gods for the pain you have caused!"

Without warning, Kormin ran forward and made a mighty leap up on to the rock. Tavis stumbled backwards out of the way and tumbled off the back of the rock in to some thorn bushes. Tavis twisted, thorns pulling holes in his skin. He grasped at branches and pulled himself forward in to yet more brush. He hoped that the shadow of the rock and the underbrush might hide him from Kormin until the poison could take effect.

Kormin jumped in to the brush. "Come out!" Kormin demanded, stomping around the brush, "Come out now!" Tavis knew the powder would make Kormin confused, give him disturbing visions, sap his willpower. Tavis could feel the effects of the powder on himself. Horrible visions trembled with malevolence at the periphery of his vision, nonsense ideas echoed in his mind, but he had long ago learned to ignore these effects. Unfortunately, Tavis knew, the powder would also make Kormin feel stronger and drive him in to a deeper rage.

Kormin started to spit out children's words for feces and dead things. He started to swing his club at the empty air around him. Tavis was not sure if he was swinging out of rage or at visions sent by the plant. Tavis’ fingers dug through the dirt, looking for a large rock he could use as a weapon.

Kormin hit the boulder with his club. The club cracked and flew from Kormin's hands, falling in to the brush. Kormin bent down to grasp for the club. Tavis tore a large rock, the size of a person’s head, out of the ground. He jumped up from the bush and brought the rock down on Kormin's exposed back. Kormin screamed out in pain, his back arching and he fell to the ground. Tavis jumped on top of Kormin, hitting him in the head with the rock. Kormin writhed and sputtered blood.

“Don’t worry, Kormin, soon there will be no more pain. I will send you to a place where the demon that devours you cannot hurt your.” Tavis his Kormin in the head with the rock until the skull gave way.

"I'm sorry," Tavis said, "I wish your spirit peace."