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〃Up and down； here and there； among； between； around； in and out of；〃 she said。
〃Upon；〃 I offered。 〃Within； beneath； through and over。〃
〃Exactly。〃 she replied。 〃That is more shifterish。 There may be hope for Mavin's outland son。〃
5。 Schlaizy Noithn
During the time that followed I learned of shifterish behavior； and thoughts； and habits。 How could this be summed up so that you will understand； you of the world in which mountains do not walk and roadways do not run； you of the world in which you wake in the same place you have slept； find your way by landmarks； travel by maps and charts？ Having made one journey in the little lake ship； I had seen； though learned nothing of the art of； guidance by the stars。 In Schlaizy Noithn； that is what I did； for nothing but the stars remained unchanging through the nights and days of travel。 I despair of explaining 〃shifterish〃 to you except to say that it is difficult for one reared in a Schooltown。 And yet； from what I learned later； that rearing had been a mercy my Mother had given me which many young Shifters would have been glad to receive。 Well； there is no better way to tell it than to tell it； as Chance would have said。 So I will tell。
I entered the country of Schlaizy Noithn with Sambeline walking beside me。 I said something or other； and she replied； making a remark about Mavin being much respected there； and after a short silence I turned to say something to her but found a huge； shambling pombi walking beside me； its monstrous head swinging to and fro with each step； long tongue lolloped between fangs of curved ivory。 I was too frightened to do anything。 My first thought was that this beast had killed Sambeline and left her bleeding body somewhere behind us； but when the beast looked up at me abstractedly before leaving the path to climb a hollow tree； to which it clung with one great； clawed foot while dipping into the hollow with the other to suck the honey…dripping paw with every evidence of pleasure； I began to guess that pombi and Sambeline were one。 When the pombi blurred； shifted； and flew away through the trees on wide wings of softest white； calling a two pitched oo…ooo as it went； when the honey tree shock itself and moved away through the forest on roots suddenly as flexible as fingers； leaving me alone； then I began to know what shifterish meant。 I began to understand why it was that Sambeline had sneered at my belongings。 Does a pombi need a blanket？ A cookpot？ A firestarter？ I put down the pack and stared at it； unwilling to leave it and yet sure it marked me as nothing else could…stranger； outsider； outlander。 Was this dangerous or otherwise？ I could not tell。
Among the Gamesmen of Barish there were sixteen tiny figures representing Shifters。 In an ordinary set of Gamesmen； such as are given to children for their little two…space games； these would be the pawns。 In my set； Shifters； and one of them； or perhaps all of them held the persona of Thandbar； old sent…far himself； shiftiest of all。 Presumably none of this would have been strange to him； and yet I never thought of taking a Shifter figure into my hand； never considered it。 Later I wondered why I had not done。 It was simple enough： pride。 Shifting was my own talent； the one to which I had been born。 I wanted no instruction in it from another。 I wanted it to be mine。 So； out of ignorance and pride； all unprepared for what I would meet or see or be required to do； I went on into the country of Schlaizy Noithn quite alone。 So。 I sat upon a hill beside a grotesque pile of stones； twisted and warped as though shaped thus when molten； making an uneasy meal of fish。 These were unusual fish in that they had not howled and climbed up the fish spear to engulf my hands with a maw of ravening fury before melting into a swarm of butterflies and scattering into impalpability against the sky。 Because these fish were quiet； these fish； reason said； were real fish； edible fish。 Reason said that。 Stomach was uncertain。
Beside me the warped stones grated into speech； moving slowly as lips might if they were as wide and tall as a man。
〃Whoooo suuuups in Schlaaaaaizeee Noiiiiithnnnn？〃
I said； 〃Peter； the son of Mavin Manyshaped；〃 while trying to keep my heart from leaping out of my breast。 The stone said nothing more。 However； a long spit of earth began to grow from beside me； upward and outward like a curving branch of the living hill； out to turn again and look at me； opening from its tip a curious eye of milky blue； lashed with grasses； which blinked； blinked； blinked at me； staring。 It stared while the fish cooked； while I ate them； while I scrubbed my knife and put it away； while I put out the fire； then turned to stare after me still as I walked away。 When I looked back at the crest of the next hill； the eye had grown a bit taller to keep me in view。
Sometimes the road moved。 Sometimes it moved in the direction I was going； sometimes sideways； sometimes backwards。 Sometimes it jumped； like a cranky horse hopping when it is first saddled。 When the road went against my direction； I got off as soon as possible； always apologizing for doing so…or for having been on it in the first place。 It was hard to walk unless there was a road； for the land was full of impassable tangles。 Sometimes the roads spoke to me； sometimes they cursed me。 Once a road held fast to my feet while it carried me back a full day's journey。 Will you understand my stupidity when I tell you that I walked the day's journey again on my own two feet； carrying my pack？
They…whoever they were…grew impatient。
I stopped when it grew dark； took my firelighter out of the pack and laid kindling beneath it； ready for the spark。 The kindling reached up and flipped it out of my hands to be caught by a bird sitting on a stone。 The bird flew away； carrying the firelighter in her claws； and I seemed to hear small； cawing laughter from the air。 I cursed； cursed the place； the inhabitants； myself。 Nothing seemed to hear me or care； save that the tops of the trees moved in a wind I had not felt till then and clouds began to boil in the sunset； so many puffy gray dumplings in a red soup of sky。 Within moments it began to rain。 My kindling grew legs and walked into the brush。 I rolled myself into my blankets and nibbled on a handful of nuts collected during the day's travel。 A stag came out of the forest； trumpeted challenge to another which appeared from behind me； the two charged one another over my body。 I rolled； frantic； scraped across stones which left me bleeding； sat up to see the two stags running into the trees my blankets caught upon their antlers。
I sat beneath a tree； water dripping down my neck； without blankets； without fire； the rain continuing in an endless； mocking stream。 Whenever I moved； it found me。 There was no shelter near except a hollow high in the tree into which wings flickered from time to time； outlined against flashes of lightning。 I was cold。 My clothes were little use except to hold some warmth against my body。 I felt a little tug at one ankle。 The next lightning flash showed a small； razor edged vine cutting the seams of my trousers while a tendril sifted a kind of powder on my boots。 Two lightning fla