Hermes awoke to a strange smoky smell. It reminded him of the pipe tobacco his grandfather smoked, but with a twist of cinnamon aroma.

He opened his eyes, and immediately regretted it. The light wasn't particularly bright, but it stung his eyes and made his head pound. He closed them again. There was a dull ringing in his ears that wouldn't go away.

I'm lying on my back, he thought. Where am I? He remembered the weirdo in the post office, the one that pushed him...pushed him through a wall. He must have blacked out. The post office was old. The walls were probably weak with termites, and he just crashed through into another room.

Hermes decided to hazard opening his eyes again. Bracing for the pain, he opened one eye, then the other, squinting against the light. The pain blossomed, then receded, and once his vision stopped swimming, he looked around.

He wasn't in the post office.

He lay on a reed mat in a room made of smooth grey stone. The light came from a lantern that sat on a table against the wall. There was a strange scorch mark on the floor, radiating away from the opposite wall; the stones there bowed inward, as if they had been struck hard from the other side.

A man reclined in a wicker chair a few feet away, one leg crossed over the other. His skin looked like caramel mixed with ashes, and a bushy beard grew from his face; Hermes could tell it had once been black, but now faded to a straggly grey. Beneath the beard, Hermes could just see a flash of white at his throat. He had the stem of a long carved pipe tucked between his lips, and removed it to speak.

"If you are here, then Angelo must have failed," the bearded man said. His voice had an exotic quality to it; Hermes thought he sounded Middle-Eastern.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Hermes propped himself up on one elbow. "What the hell is going on?"

The man held up a hand.

"One question at a time, please. I shall explain as best I can," he said. "My name is Rashad, and I am a Courier, and so are you."

"That guy said the same thing," Hermes said, uneasily. "Where is he? I fell through the wall, but I don't see a hole anywhere." Hermes glanced at the scorch marks on the floor, then away. No way. That wasn't possible.

"That 'guy,' as you put it, was Angelo. He was the Edict-bearer," the bearded man said. He leaned forward suddenly, staring at Hermes with wide amber eyes.

"The Edict! Do you have it? Is it safe?"

Hermes flinched in alarm, then remembered the envelope the man in the post office had given him. He glanced down, patted his pockets, and found it tucked into the left pocket of his jacket. How did it get there? He held it up.

"This?"

Rashad visibly relaxed, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good. There is still hope."

Hermes sat up, ignoring the woozy feeling that rushed to his brain until it subsided.

"Look, mister, I don't know who you are or what this about, but I just want to go home. Can I go?"

"I am afraid that is not possible," Rashad said, spreading his hands apologetically. "I do not know where your home is, for one thing."

"Well, how did I get here, then?"

"You arrived through a Waypath." At Hermes' blank look, Rashad sighed. "I can see you have no idea what I'm talking about. You Worldbound are so simple sometimes."

"Sorry to be simple," Hermes muttered.

Rashad smiled.

"My apologies, my young friend. Do not take offense. I shall attempt to explain," he said. He drew from his pipe and expelled a cloud of curling smoke from his nostrils, a gesture that made him look like some sort of strange Arabian dragon, Hermes thought.

"The universe you come from," Rashad began, "...the Node you come from...is one of countless Nodes in the Infinite Spiral. The Nodes are connected by causeways, shortcuts, really, called Waypaths, and it is through one of these Waypaths that you arrived here."

There was a quiet moment while Hermes let Rashad's words sink in. He regarded the bearded man carefully. If Rashad was insane, he was the most polite, sane-sounding insane person Hermes had ever met.

"So...I'm not in Kansas anymore, am I?" he said finally.

"Is that the name of your Node?"

"I—no, you know, just forget it. How can I get home?"

"Theoretically, if I knew the resonance of your particular Node, we could open a Waypath to it, and you could return from whence you came," Rashad replied. He took another puff of his pipe. "But even if I did know the resonance to your Node, I would not allow you to return there."

Hermes pounded his fist on the mat. "What?! Why not?"

"You are a Courier now, and more importantly, the bearer of the Edict. You have a mission to fulfill."

"I'm not a Courier! I don't even know what a Courier is, or what this Edict thing is, or anything."

"And yet, you swore the Courier's Creed," Rashad said.

"What?"

"'Neither blade nor bow nor tyrant's might'. Remember?"

Hermes blinked. "But—well—that guy, Angelo or whatever, he made me say it. I thought he was going to kill me. I didn't have a choice."

"Rubbish," Rashad said. Hermes started to protest, but Rashad held up a hand. "You always have a choice. Angelo would not have killed you, but you would have surely died, had you chosen to do so. The details remain the same: you swore to deliver the Edict. The responsibility is yours, whether you want it or not."

"And what happens if I refuse?"

Rashad gave a casual shrug. "You will die."

Hermes felt a dry lump in his throat, and he swallowed it. Okay, so maybe Rashad was crazy.

"Right. So...who am I supposed to deliver this Edict thing to?"

Rashad snuffed out his pipe, and stood from his chair. He was taller than Hermes expected.

"I shall explain that once we have met up with the others," he said, extending a hand to Hermes.

"Others? There's more of you?" Hermes asked; he took Rashad's hand and pulled himself upright. He expected his head to protest, but found the dizziness less severe than he expected.

"Yes. There are more of us. We shall meet the others on our ship, the Broken Herald."

"I, uh, don't do so well on boats. I get sea-sick," Hermes said, remembering an ill-fated fishing trip with his grandfather. Rashad boomed a hearty laugh, and clapped him on the back, hard enough that it made Hermes stumble.

"Oh, my Worldbound friend, you have much to learn," he said, bending down to roll up the reed mat. He tucked it under his arm. "By the way, you still have not told me your name."

"Hermes. Hermes Swift."

"That is a good name, Hermes Swift," Rashad said. "I hope it is enough."