Chapter 39. The bitter winds of winter were closer now. Upon the mountain top the air was cold and bit like a desperate animal. Within the thin walls of the Kuti, August Fenwick drew the last of his gear together and gazed up at the silent form of the man he had called master.

At last he spoke.

Are you certain you do not need me to stay, he said with some hesitation that revealed his desire to be gone?

Roshan snorted but smiled.

There is little that I need from any man that lives, young one.

And you have your own path to follow. Soon the snows will swallow up the path, and you will winter in the high hills whether you wish it or no.

Fenwick nodded. You could come with me as far as the village below. I'm certain you would be

more comfortable there, at least until the spring.

Roshan turned his gaze impassively upon his remaining pupil.

This mountain is my home. It is my place. This life is my destiny.

Why would you have me leave it?' "'Fenwick sighed.

"'It is dangerous, master. You will be alone for months.'

"'You leave this place for your city, do you not?' Rachan questioned.

"'A place where you will seek out danger you need never have known,

"'where you will live a life of many masks

"'that will have you always and

ever be alone, and yet you seek out this existence for yourself. Why do you do it?'

Fenwick nodded and grinned a little. "'It is my place,' he said with quiet conviction. My destiny. The Satuon nodded. We are what we make of

ourselves. August Fenwick was quiet for a moment. And what about him? he asked. It had been ten days since the battle, and they had not

spoken of his fellow student in that time. What will he make of himself?

Roshan's eyes remained firm, but his shoulders fell slightly. I do not know, he said sadly.

But whether good or ill, I have failed him.

...